I haven’t talked much about the marathon, have I? The one I’m doing on Sunday? Some small affair, with 19,999 other runners?

I mean, I’ve talked about the training I’ve been doing...well, sort of…and I’ve mentioned from time to time that I’m looking forward to the marathon…but other than that, I’ve been pretty quiet about the whole thing, huh?

Actually, the silence is even a little surprising to me. I haven’t been obsessing over the weather or what to wear…it *is*San Diego after all…it will be 60-70F and mostly cloudy or mostly sunny, maybe with some morning cloud cover or fog. If it rains, so what? We already know that I’ve proven myself in the rain. We also already know that it doesn’t even matter if I am experiencing any ‘female related issues’ because I’ve dealt with that at the Danskin Tri, the New Haven 20K and the Hartford Marathon last year.

Maybe I’ve grown as a runner or something. Maybe I’ve conquered my race-day butterflies. Maybe it’s like a.maria was saying, and I’m not afraid, no matter what race day may bring.

My goals are just different for marathon #3, which helps to take some of the nervousness out of the stomachs of all those crazy butterflies that I usually have to control (rather unsuccessfully).

My goals are not just different, but simple and two-fold:

1) Have fun.
2) Run with April-Anne, one step at a time, until we’re done.

Non-race related goals for the trip are three-fold, and similar:

1) Have fun.
2) Catch up with old friends.
3) Meet up with new friends.

To kick off my pre-marathon week, there have been some ups and downs that deserve a mention:

1) Down: The last long run was *not* a confidence booster.
2) Up: Lots of rest and cross-training on the schedule this week.
3) Down: There’s a good chance I will be experiencing some less than welcome female issues on race day.
4) Up: I won’t be alone.
5) Down: I lost $10. Searched almost everywhere for it.
6) Up: Found it after I stopped looking (laundry room floor).
7) Up: Got a call from one of my California hosts, asking me what flavor Gatorade Endurance I prefer (orange)…taking one more detail off my list.
8) Up: Got hooked up with a last minute massage from a friend. It was perfect, just the way I like it and just what I needed. (And, selfishly, I have *another* massage later this week in California. I’m a massage whore. I admit it.)
9) Up: Got an offer for a ride to the race from a race veteran and native to the area!
10) Up: I can’t wait to visit with my old and new friends!

How about that…more ‘Ups’ than 'Downs’ – funny how life works out that way sometimes, isn’t it?

Well that cinches it, I’m officially excited now!

On occasion, I’ve been known to experience some ‘user error’ with regard to running:

--Forgetting to hit the “lap” button on my watch.
--Forgetting to actually start my watch. Or stop it.
--Tying my sneakers so tight that I hurt my foot.
--Neglecting to apply Body Glide prior to a long run.

As the above evidence suggest, ‘user error’ is not a foreign concept to me. I’ve learned to accept it as part of my training, and I try to learn the lesson that I’ve brought upon myself.

On tap today was a speed workout. I mentioned in an earlier post that formal speed workouts are new to me, so I take time to mentally prepare myself for the task. I visual what the workout will look like, what route I’ll take for my warm-up and cool-down and how I’ll track the speed intervals with my fancy speed-distance gadget. I like to be prepared.

Sometimes, being prepared just isn’t enough.

The weather was sunny and warm, a shock to the system after our forty days and nights of clouds, rain and cool temps (not really that long. just felt that way.) Beautiful day, nice breeze…great day to be outside and running.

I remembered to bring some Gatorade and a Gu, and made sure to triple check the workout that Coach assigned: 2-3 miles warm-up easy pace; 6x800 at 3:30-3:40 with 400 recovery between; 2-3 miles cool-down easy pace. I did some easy math to figure out what my pace would be on my watch - since it’s set to miles and not meters – then out the door I went.

My warm-up was a little further than I planned at 3.52 miles.

I’ll just keep the cool down to 2 miles. No big whoop.

I reached the track, reset my watch and adjusted the technology so I could keep manual splits instead of letting the watch do it automatically. I was proud of myself for remembering to do that and gave myself an imaginary punch in the shoulder.

I took off from the line for the first interval, glancing at my watch to check the pace…right on target.

This doesn’t seem so bad. Heh. It’s over already. That was almost easy.

Recovery jog then the second interval.

Seriously. This isn’t too bad. This is like 5K pace for me. Huh. Weird.

Recovery jog. Look at distance on watch and pause when I see .75 miles.

What? Wait. Isn’t 800 meters like half a mile? So shouldn’t I be at like 1.25 miles by now? Waiiittt. OOhhh. NOooo.

Instead of an imaginary punch to the shoulder, I was now giving myself imaginary slaps to the forehead.

It felt easy because you were doing 400 meter intervals instead of 800 meter intervals!

At the moment, I felt the air begin to deflate out of my ego. *Sigh*

Having already expended the energy to do those first 2 intervals, I negotiated 4x800 with myself as a compromise. If I had gas left in the tank, I would do more.

My legs had exactly 4 intervals left in them.

Ohhhhh. This is how it’s supposed to feel! Yeah. This is hard. This kinda sucks.

Between psyching myself out with my silly mistake, the heat and having to dodge all the walkers in Lane One…I was spent. The fact that I contemplated walking my cool-down miles told me that I had left quite a bit out there. Further attesting to my energy expenditure, my face had turned a lovely shade of red, one usually reserved for fire trucks, sports cars or strawberry daiquiris.

Another lesson learned. Repeat after me: one lap around the track is only 400 meters.

Sunny skies in front of me and dark cloud behind me, I zipped down to Groton, CT for the Bluff Point Twilight Trail Run. I was looking forward to seeing my running friends, and spinning the legs outside in the sunshine with the beach over my shoulder.

Shortly after I arrived and picked up my number, Susie and I found each other..and then quickly found Michelle. As we stood in the parking lot discussing such race strategies as “Should I run the 3.6 mile race or the 7.4 mile race?” we watched the blue skies get swallowed up by dark, ominous looking clouds. Within minutes, the winds picked up, the temperature dropped and the rain came down. We clambered in to my car for shelter and wondered what we had gotten ourselves into.

Twenty minutes later, the rain let up enough for us to brave getting out of the car to take care of various pre-race needs – warm-ups, port-a-potty visits, etc. I spotted April-Anne as she dashed towards the registration table. Soon after, we found Bill, Missy and their kids, all trying to stay warm. Baby-sitting circumstances prevented Bill from being able to run the race with us, but he was there to see us all off the start line, including Missy. She was the only smart one running the 3.6 mile race...the rest of us were out there for the duration.

In typical fashion, the start was a little slow as everyone jostled around trying to find their place and pace. To add to the confusion, there were huge puddles spanning the trail so people were slowing to navigate around the puddles. The race director had warned us that we would be getting wet, but the puddles all seemed to have a way around them. The rain had let up and there was some hope that there would be patches of blue skies again.

Then, a puddle swallowed my foot. And I knew it was going to be an interesting race.

April-Anne and I stuck together and I kept our pace moderate for the first mile, hoping to slowly speed us up over the course of the race. As we hit mile 1.43, I heard my watch beep…which was a bad thing. It meant that the battery just went dead in my foot-pod transmitter…either from age or from the last ankle-deep puddle I ran through.

And without mile markers, there was no ‘back-up’ system for me to gauge our pace.

“Oh well.” I thought, “It’s a trail race with mud, puddles and slippery roots and rocks. Just run and see what happens.” I took a moment to admire the scenery as we left the ‘point’ and headed back in to the woods.

Shortly after this, we came up on the first water stop. As I grabbed a cup, I heard a commotion behind me and looked back to see April-Anne on the ground. She insisted that she was fine and was up and on her feet in seconds. We pushed on, and I teased her about getting flustered by all the cute Coast Guard Academy guys staffing the water stop.

I also thanked her for being the person who took the ‘digger’ at the trail race, because, well, someone had to do it. She said she was happy to be a team player. She wasn’t alone for long though, as we watched another runner go down when the mud gave way under his foot. (He was fine too.)

The conditions were fun and annoying at the same time. I loved splashing through the mud, but wasn’t real excited when my shoe would decide to stay behind for a bit. My socks were sopping wet, my feet were sliding around in my shoe, my shoes were slipping off the rocks and I was worried about my whole foot-knee-itb issue as a result of all the action my feet were getting.

I started pacing us with a guy who was whistling while he ran through the woods. Whistling! While running. I asked if he took request and he said he only knew older songs, since he was ‘old.’ He would occasionally let out a ‘whoop’ type holler that would make me giggle every time. He certainly kept things interesting for us.

Past the second water stop, we reached the part of the trail that runs along the train tracks and the surface dried out a bit. The fragrance of honeysuckle filled the air, making me breath deep and smile. Based on our lapsed time, I knew that we were well past the halfway point. We cruised over the bridge, down and around a field and past the third water stop. I ate a gel, knowing that the boost would help me finish strong.

Back over the bridge, high-fived Susie as we passed, and once we were along the train tracks again, I picked up the pace. I heard April-Anne yell something at me about ‘killing’ her, but I could hear her footfalls and knew that she was still keeping pace.

Passing by the water stop again, I heard a volunteer yell out ‘Just a half mile more!’ and that was all I needed to hear. I started my final kick, pouring it on, but feeling smooth and controlled. With less than a quarter mile to go, I spotted Bill and his son cheering me on and I glanced at my watch. I was going to PR and I wanted to make it count, so I pushed hard for those extra few seconds off my time and flew over the line.

“58:23” yelled the time-keeper as I was handed a cold bottle of water. Sweet. PR’d by over a minute and a half, with gas left in the tank.

April-Anne came in right behind me and we walked together to cool down. She pulled up her pant leg to reveal a bloody knee so we headed back to get her some medical attention. I told her I would meet her by the massage tables (free massages!) and went back out to jog for a few minutes, to cool down.

When I got back to the finish area, she was nowhere to be found and I asked around for bandaids/medical attention. I found April-Anne at about the same time that the race director found the medics so I made her sit down so they could patch her up. (I also ordered her to ice her knee tonight, but I know she won’t listen to me.)

After a quick massage and some dry clothes, Michelle, April-Anne and I all cheered Susie in as she crossed the line. We met up with Bill and wrapped up our evening with some chatting, laughing and free food. I’m sure they will all have their own versions of the race too!

Good times.
**A extra note about the race logistics: Awesome! Trail was well marked, and more importantly, well staffed. This year, the inclusion of the Coast Guard Academy cadets was a fabulous idea. Not only were the water stops adequately staffed, but there were cadets posted at various points on the course, insuring that runners didn’t miss important turns. There was bagels, bananas, donuts, and corn chowder, plus tons of bottled water at the finish. And let’s not forget the free massages. Just amazing, especially for a smaller race. I highly, highly recommend it.**

Anne had a great post today...it was just what I needed as I mentally prepare for my 7.4 mile trail race tonight at 6:00 p.m.

And speaking of the Bluff Point (Groton) Twilight Run Trail Race.....Rae has asked us all to run a mile for Brent's 29th birthday today. So at least one of my miles will be raced just for him. With any luck, it will be a fast one...and it will match the other 6.4 miles.

Hopefully...other members of the RBF will be at the race...although there is a rumor that Susie might wimp out if it rains. Please feel free to stop by her blog and call her names. (Incidentally, I'm being blamed for the rain.)

Check back later for the race report.

Irony is carefully analyzing the weather predictions and switching your long run from Saturday to Sunday in order to avoid the “rain, heavy at times with wind gusts 15-20 mph” only to wake up on Saturday to *no* sounds of pitter-patter on the window. Instead, the wet weather arrives on Sunday morning. In the form of misty drizzle and sprinkles…until your running partner utters the damning phrase “At least it’s not pouring” which means that 5 minutes later, it starts pouring. At mile 7.

Sigh.

Irony is reading about a new shoe-lacing technique in a running magazine, and testing it out on the same day that your speed-distance foot pod thingy seems to be a little “off” so you stop to tie your laces even tighter to make sure the pod isn’t jiggling around too much…and you wind up irritating the top of your foot so much that for that for the next 5 weeks, it wreaks havoc with your ITB. And then the magazine publishes a new lacing-technique…to help alleviate pain on the top of the foot.

Sigh.

And so it went on Sunday. Out in to the rain, out to the “hillier” part of the course, April-Anne and I adopted our “we’re hardcore” attitude and set out to make our last monster long run just a note in the training logs.

Despite the weather, our spirits were high and things felt smooth. I had already squeezed in two miles before she arrived, knowing that I wouldn’t do the extra two miles by myself after we did our planned 20 miles together. It was the only smart thing I did all day.

At mile 6, I led us down a new road, not realizing that it was more crowned/cambered than our usual roads. The top of my foot was already starting to hurt, and the road only made it worse. Then I felt the ITB start to complain. “Not now. Not this soon. Oh, it’s going to be a long 12 miles.”

My bright idea of running some long, slow inclines wasn’t looking so bright anymore either. Stupid uphills. Stupid downhills. Stupid rain. Stupid foot. Stupid ITB. Stupid marathons. Whose idea was this anyways? What’s wrong with me? Did I really give up scrapbooking for *this*?!

We managed to make it back to home-base for our scheduled pit-stop after the first 13 miles. Note to rained-on-runners: changing in to dry socks and a dry shirt? Best. Idea. EVER. While it didn’t take the pain away from my left leg, it made me feel almost “refreshed.”

As we pushed off for the last 7 miles, April-Anne uttered the dreaded “w” word…she said “Are you sure we can’t just walk this last bit instead of run it?” We laughed at the absurdity of the question, both secretly wishing the answer could be “Yes!” But we knew better.

Two miles later, I muttered something under my breath about how much things sucked and April-Anne cheerfully offered to walk with me, if I needed a break.

Again, with that “w” word. There it was…just taunting me.

So I kept telling myself “There’s no walking in running.” (Which I don’t really believe because I walked through all the water stops in my first marathon…and I actually don’t think that walking is bad but dammit, I was feeling stubborn and I wanted to get home and needed to be motivated by something.)

By mile 20 (mile 18 for April-Anne)…I could feel the storm clouds gathering in my mind. I was tired from the pain. I was tired of holding myself upright. My freakin’ leg freakin’ hurt and I just wanted to stop. I couldn’t talk anymore, but instead needed to use that energy to think of all those things I draw on when I need strength…this time, I thought about how awesome it feels to cross that finish line. Seeing friends and families, getting huge, bone-crushing hugs from people who love you even though you are stinky, sweaty and insane. That was one reason I was doing this.

We approached the last hill, and I gave it a good cussing, while April-Anne gave her “We love hills! Hills make us stronger!” battle cry. Somehow, we managed to smile briefly as we shuffled up the nose-scraping steep hill at mile 19.5 (21.5 for me).

The last downhill hurt like nothing else. April-Anne read my thoughts when she said “This must be what Boston feels like” as we shuffled down the hill. It felt odd to *not* fly down the hill…almost unnatural. But we were giving what we had left to give.

Finally, we were done.

It wasn’t pretty. But we decided that we were getting all the bad luck out of the way to make room for the awesome experience we’d have in San Diego. Like reverse irony or something.

Thank you, dear RBF, for all your wonderful comments.

You always know *just* what to say to make me feel better.

You know what else made me feel better? Watching Mark run around in a skirt. Damn. I had tears streaming down my face at my desk, laughing like mad. Thanks Blogfather, you have no idea how much that meant to me. (And, knowing that your son is going to be OK...that brightened my mood even more!)

And you know what else made me feel better?

A speed workout.

I know! I was equally as surprised by that fact. To be honest, I was a little nervous and a little reticent to even *do* the workout, given how tired I had been feeling. But Coach took the time to plan the workout for me, so I felt that I had to at least give it a try.

I'm new to the whole concept of speed-workouts, but I've welcomed the idea because I know I need to do something different in order to get better (faster) results. Especially for that Boston Qualifying time. In the past, however, I scoffed at speed workouts. I mean, what kind of workout has 2 miles as a 'warm-up'? That's almost an entire training run...not a warm-up!

That type of thinking made Wednesday's workout look a bit daunting on paper:

"Wednesday: 2-3 miles warm up (9:00 or slower pace), 4x1 mile (7:55-8:00, 7:50-7:55, 7:45-7:50, 7:40-7:45) - jog slowly 5 min between intervals. 2-3 miles cool down (9:00 or slower pace)"

Coach promised that it would be "fun" and that I'd feel "awesome" afterwards.

You know what? That was 100% true and accurate.

I felt strong the whole time, did a 3-mile warmup, then hit each interval at exactly the right pace, with the last one even a little faster than needed, then had a 2-mile cool down. Wrapped up a 10.50 mile run in 1:28.

I was astonished. Stunned. I felt amazing. No foot pain, no trouble with the ITB...and I even left the knee brace at home.

I never, ever would have pushed myself like that if it wasn't for my Coach. And the workout did more than just add some strong miles to my base...it gave me some much needed confidence, and better yet, made me feel good.

The 22-miler in the rain yesterday may have robbed me of some of that confidence. But that's a story for another post. Stay tuned as we continue on this roller coaster ride!

Apparently, the 20-miler took so much out of me, I didn't even have enough energy to write a post last week. Heh.

I took an extra day off from running last week, to give both the ITB and foot some much needed rest. Remember...when Body talks, listen up!

Even with the extra rest day, my running was labored all week. The legs were just plain ol' tired and cranky. Filled with lead. Not perky.

A busy weekend just added to the overall fatigue. Friday night was a wine-tasting birthday party. I limited myself to one glass of wine, and brought my own food with me to make sure I properly fueled up for my long run. (I felt like such a dork, with my tupperware full of pasta. Sigh.) The party went later than expected, and I got to bed waaayyyy past my bedtime.

Somehow I managed to get out of bed and get through my 14-miler on Saturday, ALONE, with no ITB issues, and just a little bit of foot pain (it's just a bit on tendonitis, from tying my laces too tight a few weeks ago). The highlight of the run? Mysteriously, a twisted, rusty, wire clothes hanger found it's way over my foot and up around my ankle. How it got all the way on to my ankle without me noticing is beyond me. What the hell?

Afterwards, instead of resting, I did some shopping and then went out for a fabulous dinner with two friends. Another late night, but well worth it.

Sunday didn't afford much time for resting either, as I volunteered to scramble eggs for 3.5 hours, baked a birthday cake, did some yard work, took the bike out for an 11-mile spin and then went to yet another dinner.

My legs aren't feeling as spent this week, and last night's 7-miler was smooth and strong. But there's still something not quite right. Some kind of funk...I remarked to a friend earlier today that I feel like I need a vacation...that my soul feels tired. Weary. I need to recharge my batteries.

Any suggestions? What do *you* do to get out of a funk?