I get an email from Jillian Michaels' fitness website on a daily basis, and today's email really resonated with me. It's a perfect explanation of the impact of stress on your health and weight. Rather than try to explain it, I'm just going to reprint it here. It's brilliant. If you don't know who Jillian Michaels is, she's the trainer on the TV show, "The Biggest Loser". She's one kick-butt lady and I would love to meet her sometime.
http://www.jillianmichaels.com/fitness-and-diet-tips/stress-and-metabolism
From LOSING IT! With Jillian Michaels
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Inspiration!
When I feel frustrated that I backslid, when I get angry at the crap that is going on in my life with my Emotional Vampire relative, I need to rewatch The Biggest Loser finale. Oh my goodness. To see what people can do when they push, and when they stop letting the garbage in their lives hold them back...WOW. It is absolutely amazing.
Danny Cahill has to be the most inspiring person I have ever heard about or seen on TV. To see him lose 55% of his body weight in just...what, five or six months time? He went from 430 pounds to 191. And it just absolutely blows my mind.
It also really tells you what you can do, if you put your mind to it.
Anyway, I was watching the finale tonight via the internet because we don't have cable or satellite TV. I was so impressed with the progress of all these people who worked so hard to drop so many pounds. I remember being at 155, and thinking there was no way I could lose any more than that. But to see where you can go if you are willing to put in that extra little bit of work--I realize now I was self-limiting. Telling myself what I could and could not do. Was I fit and healthy, and much smaller? Oh yeah. But I think I could have managed even more, a new level of fitness and health, had I pushed just that much harder, the way the people on the Biggest Loser did.
Everyone "knows" when you go home for a week on BL, you don't lose much. Danny blew everyone away and lost 15 pounds that week that he was home. I thought, man, he did it. I could too. I just need to get my focus back.
Life gets chaotic. I let myself get pulled down by it, and I tell myself I do the best I can, which is true--I do. But when you know better, you can do better. Watching that episode...man. I think I know better. I feel all charged up, and kind of wish it was daytime so we could head out to the YMCA. If the weather tomorrow cooperates (no rain), I'll bring Kara in the jogging stroller. I used to do that earlier this year, but got out of the habit because I HATE HEAT. Ha ha. If I do that, I can get out on the road and start working up the mileage again. I want to do another half marathon--I get so charged up doing those. And I have had it with this backsliding I did.
I gained a total of 40 pounds since moving to this state, and in dealing with the emotional vampire of a certain relative of mine. In fact, just today, this person and I saw each other at a store. She looked as startled as I, and I waved at her--and she said, "Good morning." That was it. I have offered and offered to talk, I have emailed and emailed, I have tried joking around, I have tried offering to go to family counseling, I have beaten my head against the wall over and over, only to have her email to the entire family:
"The temptation to go to professional counseling is great: I'd like to see what would happen with Karina and a counselor. And her family would benefit from her going to see one."
To ask someone over and over to talk, to tell me what I did, to listen to why I am upset, to communicate, and this is the reply--that I need to go to counseling, and that my family would benefit by it. It's truly amazing.
I have given myself the gift of letting it all go. I've listened to enough Dr. Laura to know that I don't have to continue to try to put myself into a relationship with this person, because frankly, in the year I have been here, it has never gotten better. It started with her offering us a place to live while we found a house, only to kick us out, in the middle of the month (so no rentals were available), with four days' notice. This happened just two months later.
Oh, let me rephrase--Kent and Maddy were invited to stay. She told me that the baby and I had to leave. The reason: she had to have surgery to remove a cyst, and needed "time and space" to recover. After we left it became a full hysterectomy and, since then, that's the revisionist history. "You had to go because I had major surgery." Her actions made a family with a 21 month old baby homeless, with noplace to go but two hours away by car over mountain roads to my inlaws' summer house.
And she wonders why I got angry. But despite that, I let it go, I started back at ground zero, and tried again. And again she would ignore my emails, say rude things then refuse to answer my texts, be negative whenever I tried to include her by sending her pictures. And I have so had it!
Naturally I am now the bad person because I've said that until we talk it out, she is not going to have any contact with my family. I can't risk it. My children are being asked to choose between their mother and another relative who won't talk to their mother. The baby doesn't get it, but Maddy does. I don't trust my relative and I don't particularly like her, not after the way she has acted. And watching how her children treat other people...grr. I won't go into detail other than to say that in 53 weeks of finally having our own home in this state, my daughter's favorite cousin has never, ever called her, to say hi or talk or invite her for a play date. And it kills Maddy and it makes me mad.
So that's my chaos. And I've let it drag me down. I've eaten my feelings, and I'm tired of it. I know Danny went through that, that's how he got to 430 pounds himself. But I am still 60 pounds lighter than I was. I am not going to go back to that person--she didn't even walk, let alone run half marathons. I'm ready for the athlete in me to come back to center stage. This poor girl who's been sitting here, eating fudge or hershey's kisses en masse, who has cried too many tears over an emotional vampire, and who has beaten her head against a stubborn wall of "refusal to communicate", has had ENOUGH.
It all starts over now.
I'm going to bed. Yep, before midnight. That, alone, is a major accomplishment, and one I've not had in...months and months and months.
Tomorrow morning, my training...my LIFE begins anew.
Where will I go from here? I have been dreaming of a marathon or a half Iron Man triathlon. 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run.
The wimp is gone. The athlete remains.
Let's go kick some serious ass!
Danny Cahill has to be the most inspiring person I have ever heard about or seen on TV. To see him lose 55% of his body weight in just...what, five or six months time? He went from 430 pounds to 191. And it just absolutely blows my mind.
It also really tells you what you can do, if you put your mind to it.
Anyway, I was watching the finale tonight via the internet because we don't have cable or satellite TV. I was so impressed with the progress of all these people who worked so hard to drop so many pounds. I remember being at 155, and thinking there was no way I could lose any more than that. But to see where you can go if you are willing to put in that extra little bit of work--I realize now I was self-limiting. Telling myself what I could and could not do. Was I fit and healthy, and much smaller? Oh yeah. But I think I could have managed even more, a new level of fitness and health, had I pushed just that much harder, the way the people on the Biggest Loser did.
Everyone "knows" when you go home for a week on BL, you don't lose much. Danny blew everyone away and lost 15 pounds that week that he was home. I thought, man, he did it. I could too. I just need to get my focus back.
Life gets chaotic. I let myself get pulled down by it, and I tell myself I do the best I can, which is true--I do. But when you know better, you can do better. Watching that episode...man. I think I know better. I feel all charged up, and kind of wish it was daytime so we could head out to the YMCA. If the weather tomorrow cooperates (no rain), I'll bring Kara in the jogging stroller. I used to do that earlier this year, but got out of the habit because I HATE HEAT. Ha ha. If I do that, I can get out on the road and start working up the mileage again. I want to do another half marathon--I get so charged up doing those. And I have had it with this backsliding I did.
I gained a total of 40 pounds since moving to this state, and in dealing with the emotional vampire of a certain relative of mine. In fact, just today, this person and I saw each other at a store. She looked as startled as I, and I waved at her--and she said, "Good morning." That was it. I have offered and offered to talk, I have emailed and emailed, I have tried joking around, I have tried offering to go to family counseling, I have beaten my head against the wall over and over, only to have her email to the entire family:
"The temptation to go to professional counseling is great: I'd like to see what would happen with Karina and a counselor. And her family would benefit from her going to see one."
To ask someone over and over to talk, to tell me what I did, to listen to why I am upset, to communicate, and this is the reply--that I need to go to counseling, and that my family would benefit by it. It's truly amazing.
I have given myself the gift of letting it all go. I've listened to enough Dr. Laura to know that I don't have to continue to try to put myself into a relationship with this person, because frankly, in the year I have been here, it has never gotten better. It started with her offering us a place to live while we found a house, only to kick us out, in the middle of the month (so no rentals were available), with four days' notice. This happened just two months later.
Oh, let me rephrase--Kent and Maddy were invited to stay. She told me that the baby and I had to leave. The reason: she had to have surgery to remove a cyst, and needed "time and space" to recover. After we left it became a full hysterectomy and, since then, that's the revisionist history. "You had to go because I had major surgery." Her actions made a family with a 21 month old baby homeless, with noplace to go but two hours away by car over mountain roads to my inlaws' summer house.
And she wonders why I got angry. But despite that, I let it go, I started back at ground zero, and tried again. And again she would ignore my emails, say rude things then refuse to answer my texts, be negative whenever I tried to include her by sending her pictures. And I have so had it!
Naturally I am now the bad person because I've said that until we talk it out, she is not going to have any contact with my family. I can't risk it. My children are being asked to choose between their mother and another relative who won't talk to their mother. The baby doesn't get it, but Maddy does. I don't trust my relative and I don't particularly like her, not after the way she has acted. And watching how her children treat other people...grr. I won't go into detail other than to say that in 53 weeks of finally having our own home in this state, my daughter's favorite cousin has never, ever called her, to say hi or talk or invite her for a play date. And it kills Maddy and it makes me mad.
So that's my chaos. And I've let it drag me down. I've eaten my feelings, and I'm tired of it. I know Danny went through that, that's how he got to 430 pounds himself. But I am still 60 pounds lighter than I was. I am not going to go back to that person--she didn't even walk, let alone run half marathons. I'm ready for the athlete in me to come back to center stage. This poor girl who's been sitting here, eating fudge or hershey's kisses en masse, who has cried too many tears over an emotional vampire, and who has beaten her head against a stubborn wall of "refusal to communicate", has had ENOUGH.
It all starts over now.
I'm going to bed. Yep, before midnight. That, alone, is a major accomplishment, and one I've not had in...months and months and months.
Tomorrow morning, my training...my LIFE begins anew.
Where will I go from here? I have been dreaming of a marathon or a half Iron Man triathlon. 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run.
The wimp is gone. The athlete remains.
Let's go kick some serious ass!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
I am a Trail Runner!
DONE!
I am a "real" Trail Runner!
It has (again!) been a while since I wrote. I am not good about this, mostly because I don't know who the heck I'm writing for--except myself, and sometimes that seems a little narcissistic! So I keep forgetting about it, and thinking, what do I have to say, really?
But I had a nice comment (Hi Hail) and thought, you know, if this is interesting or even a little helpful, even as a one-off read, I should really keep at it. Plus it helps keep me grounded.
So the last time I wrote, I had a FAIL. Epic Fail! I tried to go for a 13 mile run, and made it all of about 6--two of which were running, and most of the rest was a walk. It was really depressing, but I was so dizzy I should have known...
I went to the doctor almost two weeks later--nobody can accuse me of hypochondria, hee hee--and it turned out I had a nasty bacterial sinus infection. NO WONDER I couldn't run. I couldn't even walk without dizziness.
One more run of antibiotics and a series of days with lots of advil and sudafed on board, and I finally got over it.
I was able to pick up running again, and had some lovely days on the treadmill, doing sprint intervals one day and on another, six miles of progressively-faster running. I felt good, as though I had a chance of succeeding at my goal: running the North Face Endurance Challenge Trail Half Marathon in Sausalito, California, on Saturday December 5.
The week of the race arrived, and saw me spending four straight days on the computer, instead of even doing any sort of taper. Two days were spent preparing a Christmas present for my parents and in-laws, and two days were spent writing articles.
Oh, yes, I forgot--I'm a writer for Lance Armstrong's LiveStrong.com, and also for Trails.com! That's fun. I'll link some articles so you can read them. Some have to do with weight loss, running, and nutrition:
I finally fell asleep just after 1, then woke up in a panic, CERTAIN I would not make the cutoff time of 4 hours. I knew there were pace charts showing split times for each aid station, and I worried that if I didn't make an aid station in time, they'd send a "sweeper" to pull me off the course.
I finally fell asleep, only to wake just before the alarm at 4. I was ready to go.
After taking a shower, having some breakfast of a banana, toast and almond butter, and some black tea spiked with agave syrup and ribose, I drove off in the dark at 4:30 a.m.
Before I left, I texted to my Facebook account: "Terrified...who am I kidding. I'm not ready for this!! OMG. but...on my way 4 better or worse..."
I was in such a dither, I missed my highway onramp. The one I always take. AND that was with the GPS on telling me what to do!
The drive over was uneventful, and I listened to the radio and tried to not lose my mind. I got in around 8 a.m. to Sausalito, and quickly found a parking spot and caught the shuttle. At the base station, I got my bib number and timing chip, and anchored it with a plastic wire tie. Then I put on my gloves because I was freezing--it was cold and a bit damp, as well as in the shade--and it was time to wait.
We were supposed to start at 9, but we were delayed because people were still arriving. At 9:15, we were finally off.
Here is the elevation chart for what I proceeded to run:
This is actually not quite the correct chart--they revised it to be more accurate, and the second mountain should be much more vertical and thinner.
The first couple miles was reasonable, but then we hit the hill and I had to walk. I just can't run up hills, not that long of one anyway. So I walked up, but then when I got up there, I was able to run again. The first peak was such fun to run down from! There were little wooden bridges and walkways, and shallow steps built into the singletrack. I felt like a gazelle bounding down them. What a blast!
At the bottom, at mile 4, the first aid station was there. I had not made great time, at 1 hour 4 minutes, but I knew the ups would kill me.
Let me tell you about ultramarathon or trail run aid stations. That was what this was. You see, my half marathon wasn't the only race being run that day. There was a 10K, and also a 50K (31 miles) and 50 MILE race. We shared an aid station with them. On a normal half marathon, you'd find water and maybe some gatorade, GU or Shot Bloks if they are sponsors of the race. Otherwise, some liquid and that's it.
This aid station had, from what I remember, water, yellow and purple drinks of some sort, brownies, cookies, bananas, bagels, chunks of cooked red potato you dip into salt, saltine crackers, and I don't remember what else. I had a saltine, they filled my handheld Fuel Belt water bottle, and then hit the bathroom before tackling hill #2--the monster.
I ran through the flats until I finally hit the uphills about ten minutes down the road. Then I was reduced to a walk. It was so steep at times I had to pause and take a breath then forge on. I was NOT ready for these hills, but I was determined to make each aid station within one hour--that was the only way I could pace myself to make it through by the cutoff time of four hours. I was off pace a bit, but the first segment was 4 miles, and each one thereafter was around 3. I felt pretty sure that, even with an uphill, I could manage a 20 minute mile pace for the next three segments.
When I got to the top, I had the singularly unpleasant realization that it was so steep, I couldn't walk down. I had to run. It was shocking and difficult! Normally you would attack a hill by almost tipping forward over your toes, and allowing the gravity to take you down the hill, very close to an out-of-control forward fall. This hill was so steep, it felt too dangerous to do that, so I ended up doing the worst thing you can do on a hill--pulling up and holding back, letting my quadriceps take the brunt of the effort. The pounding of going down that hill, the delicacy of doing so over dirt, rocks, and these giant cracks criss-crossing the track, made it almost as hard as going up had been.
I made it back to the same aid station (mile 7.2, apparently, although there was some discussion on the trail about whether this was accurate). I came in at just over an hour at 2 hours 10 minutes on my watch, and felt pretty good about my chances of making it in under 4 hours.
Despite eating some of my Shot Bloks on the second segment, I needed something. I decided to have what I thought was Gatorade...but it turns out, I didn't know what it was. It was awful, but simultaneously the best thing I ever tasted! I mentioned that, and the volunteer laughed and said, it's funny what your body wants when you're trail running! I asked what it was....
It was flat Mountain Dew.
I HATE Mountain Dew...but this day, it was like the elixir of the gods!
As I headed out, I knew the fourth, and last, segment was 2.7 miles, so I felt I was close to being done, and that the third segment was going to be fast.
Was I wrong.
The next hill was much more forgiving, in terms of angle, and yet again I had to walk. At the top, I was able to start running on the slight downhill and slight flats, walked up the 2nd ascent, and then ran down and around the corner until I hit the 3rd aid station.
At this point it was again over 3 hours (I forget how much), and I felt like I had been on the path forever. They said, though, "This is it, you've done it--2.7 more to go!"
I headed off down the hill, running for a solid ten or twelve minutes before being reduced to doing 3 minute run/20 second walk intervals. I had to slow down. My quads were trashed. I did this until the last slight uphill, then finally on the last flat, within sight of the finish line, I was able to run again.
As I came down the straightaway before making the turn down the hill to the finish, people all around me were cheering me on. It was a great feeilng. Lots of "stay strong!' and "you're almost there!" and "way to go!" There's nothing like a road race for support!
Finally, as I came to the grassy slope downward to the finish and made the right-hand turn to run it in, my right knee finally had it. It completely seized up! I thought, "Oh hell no! I'm right here, there is NO way I'm going to walk!" Even though I felt like I was crabwalking in, I finished at a run--and in a time of 3 hours, 41 minutes and 28 seconds.
I made it--I beat the cutoff time! I was the last official finisher--two more came in after me, over the official time. I feel pretty good, though, considering the fitness level of my fellow competitors and knowing I was really not well prepared for this race.
I stopped for a moment while a volunteer cut the timing chip off my shoe, and she was apologizing for making me stand there. I told her, "That's OK, my knee seized up and I can't move anyway!" After she finished, she offered to get me a chair, but I just asked to stand still for a moment. Another five seconds, and I was able to sidestep over to a grassy area, and then, bing! My knee loosened up and I was fine.
I was sore, though. My legs were toast. The quads, hips, calves...even my toes would seize up on me if I tried to curl them a bit to stretch. WOW.
I walked for a while, maybe five minutes, and ate the rest of my Luna bar that was in my pocket. I had one Shot Blok left from the trail, but it didn't sound good so I let it be. I got my bag and fished out a banana, and ate that too. That helped. Then I sat down and stretched for a while, which made me feel almost back to normal. While I was stretching, several people I had spoken to in the morning came by to say hello and congratulate me. One woman said the nicest thing to me--"You're a real trail runner now!"
What a nice comment! I guess I am, aren't I?
I went and claimed my Schwag--a gorgeous soft mint-green short-sleeved North Face technical shirt, with the North Face Endurance Challenge logo on the sleeve. It is my new favorite running shirt! I also got a new pair of technical socks, and was treated to my "finisher's beer". It was apricot ale, and was marginal; I'm not a big beer fan, except for Lost Coast Apricot Wheat at the Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka, California--so I only had half and left it behind.
Before I left, though, there were raffles, and I went to listen to the awards. The fastest half marathoners ran that thing in 1 hour and 36 minutes. CRAZY! But the best part of that was the fact that DEAN KARNAZES was there to give everyone their awards!
I was so excited--he's a legend, and my inspiration. After the awards and raffles (I didn't win), I was able to meet Dean. I explained that I just wanted to tell him that I read both of his books and loved them. I also told him that I listened to Ultramarathon Man when I ran my first 20 miler. I said it got me through, because whenever I felt down, I just listened to what he was going through, and thought, if he can deal with THAT, I can do a 20 miler!
That's when he said something that blew me away. He told me I was an inspiration!! ME?!?!?? He shook my hand, too. Wow. He told me, "Don't ever stop!" And that's one of his sayings from his book. I said, "I'm trying not to!" and he said, "Good, I can tell!"
It was a great experience!
Anyway, I went back to the car, and found out on the shuttle that the 2nd aid station was at 8 miles, not 7.2 as was originally posted. That means that whoever told me that the race was closer to 15 miles was right. The elevation chart puts the distance at 14.56 miles.
Wow.
When I got to the car I had a full change of clothes, and was never so glad to clean up and change at the park's bathrooms. Especially my socks--they were so brown from the trail! I got back in the car, called my Dad to tell him what I'd been doing that morning, and headed back. I made a stop in Vacaville for Rubio's steak tacos and a peppermint mocha from Borders Books & Music cafe'. Then I headed home, making it in by 7 p.m. Total time round-trip: 14 1/2 hours, 3 1/2 of which were on the trail and 7 on the road.
The next day was interesting. I couldn't walk very well. It took me a couple days, but I'm now 100% back to normal. My hips, quads and calves have recovered, and I am ready to get back to the treadmill.
After all, there is another half marathon coming up in the spring! I don't know which one, but...it doesn't matter. I'll find one, and I'm there!
What a fantastic experience. If we are still in California next year, I'm doing this one again. Only this time, I'll train for the hills. I know what to expect, now.
Have a great day...and, DON'T EVER STOP!
I am a "real" Trail Runner!
It has (again!) been a while since I wrote. I am not good about this, mostly because I don't know who the heck I'm writing for--except myself, and sometimes that seems a little narcissistic! So I keep forgetting about it, and thinking, what do I have to say, really?
But I had a nice comment (Hi Hail) and thought, you know, if this is interesting or even a little helpful, even as a one-off read, I should really keep at it. Plus it helps keep me grounded.
So the last time I wrote, I had a FAIL. Epic Fail! I tried to go for a 13 mile run, and made it all of about 6--two of which were running, and most of the rest was a walk. It was really depressing, but I was so dizzy I should have known...
I went to the doctor almost two weeks later--nobody can accuse me of hypochondria, hee hee--and it turned out I had a nasty bacterial sinus infection. NO WONDER I couldn't run. I couldn't even walk without dizziness.
One more run of antibiotics and a series of days with lots of advil and sudafed on board, and I finally got over it.
I was able to pick up running again, and had some lovely days on the treadmill, doing sprint intervals one day and on another, six miles of progressively-faster running. I felt good, as though I had a chance of succeeding at my goal: running the North Face Endurance Challenge Trail Half Marathon in Sausalito, California, on Saturday December 5.
The week of the race arrived, and saw me spending four straight days on the computer, instead of even doing any sort of taper. Two days were spent preparing a Christmas present for my parents and in-laws, and two days were spent writing articles.
Oh, yes, I forgot--I'm a writer for Lance Armstrong's LiveStrong.com, and also for Trails.com! That's fun. I'll link some articles so you can read them. Some have to do with weight loss, running, and nutrition:
- Lose Weight by Counting Calories
- How to Calculate Minimal Caloric Intake
- Make Yourself a Faster Runner
I finally fell asleep just after 1, then woke up in a panic, CERTAIN I would not make the cutoff time of 4 hours. I knew there were pace charts showing split times for each aid station, and I worried that if I didn't make an aid station in time, they'd send a "sweeper" to pull me off the course.
I finally fell asleep, only to wake just before the alarm at 4. I was ready to go.
After taking a shower, having some breakfast of a banana, toast and almond butter, and some black tea spiked with agave syrup and ribose, I drove off in the dark at 4:30 a.m.
Before I left, I texted to my Facebook account: "Terrified...who am I kidding. I'm not ready for this!! OMG. but...on my way 4 better or worse..."
I was in such a dither, I missed my highway onramp. The one I always take. AND that was with the GPS on telling me what to do!
The drive over was uneventful, and I listened to the radio and tried to not lose my mind. I got in around 8 a.m. to Sausalito, and quickly found a parking spot and caught the shuttle. At the base station, I got my bib number and timing chip, and anchored it with a plastic wire tie. Then I put on my gloves because I was freezing--it was cold and a bit damp, as well as in the shade--and it was time to wait.
We were supposed to start at 9, but we were delayed because people were still arriving. At 9:15, we were finally off.
Here is the elevation chart for what I proceeded to run:
The first couple miles was reasonable, but then we hit the hill and I had to walk. I just can't run up hills, not that long of one anyway. So I walked up, but then when I got up there, I was able to run again. The first peak was such fun to run down from! There were little wooden bridges and walkways, and shallow steps built into the singletrack. I felt like a gazelle bounding down them. What a blast!
At the bottom, at mile 4, the first aid station was there. I had not made great time, at 1 hour 4 minutes, but I knew the ups would kill me.
Let me tell you about ultramarathon or trail run aid stations. That was what this was. You see, my half marathon wasn't the only race being run that day. There was a 10K, and also a 50K (31 miles) and 50 MILE race. We shared an aid station with them. On a normal half marathon, you'd find water and maybe some gatorade, GU or Shot Bloks if they are sponsors of the race. Otherwise, some liquid and that's it.
This aid station had, from what I remember, water, yellow and purple drinks of some sort, brownies, cookies, bananas, bagels, chunks of cooked red potato you dip into salt, saltine crackers, and I don't remember what else. I had a saltine, they filled my handheld Fuel Belt water bottle, and then hit the bathroom before tackling hill #2--the monster.
I ran through the flats until I finally hit the uphills about ten minutes down the road. Then I was reduced to a walk. It was so steep at times I had to pause and take a breath then forge on. I was NOT ready for these hills, but I was determined to make each aid station within one hour--that was the only way I could pace myself to make it through by the cutoff time of four hours. I was off pace a bit, but the first segment was 4 miles, and each one thereafter was around 3. I felt pretty sure that, even with an uphill, I could manage a 20 minute mile pace for the next three segments.
When I got to the top, I had the singularly unpleasant realization that it was so steep, I couldn't walk down. I had to run. It was shocking and difficult! Normally you would attack a hill by almost tipping forward over your toes, and allowing the gravity to take you down the hill, very close to an out-of-control forward fall. This hill was so steep, it felt too dangerous to do that, so I ended up doing the worst thing you can do on a hill--pulling up and holding back, letting my quadriceps take the brunt of the effort. The pounding of going down that hill, the delicacy of doing so over dirt, rocks, and these giant cracks criss-crossing the track, made it almost as hard as going up had been.
I made it back to the same aid station (mile 7.2, apparently, although there was some discussion on the trail about whether this was accurate). I came in at just over an hour at 2 hours 10 minutes on my watch, and felt pretty good about my chances of making it in under 4 hours.
Despite eating some of my Shot Bloks on the second segment, I needed something. I decided to have what I thought was Gatorade...but it turns out, I didn't know what it was. It was awful, but simultaneously the best thing I ever tasted! I mentioned that, and the volunteer laughed and said, it's funny what your body wants when you're trail running! I asked what it was....
It was flat Mountain Dew.
I HATE Mountain Dew...but this day, it was like the elixir of the gods!
As I headed out, I knew the fourth, and last, segment was 2.7 miles, so I felt I was close to being done, and that the third segment was going to be fast.
Was I wrong.
The next hill was much more forgiving, in terms of angle, and yet again I had to walk. At the top, I was able to start running on the slight downhill and slight flats, walked up the 2nd ascent, and then ran down and around the corner until I hit the 3rd aid station.
At this point it was again over 3 hours (I forget how much), and I felt like I had been on the path forever. They said, though, "This is it, you've done it--2.7 more to go!"
I headed off down the hill, running for a solid ten or twelve minutes before being reduced to doing 3 minute run/20 second walk intervals. I had to slow down. My quads were trashed. I did this until the last slight uphill, then finally on the last flat, within sight of the finish line, I was able to run again.
As I came down the straightaway before making the turn down the hill to the finish, people all around me were cheering me on. It was a great feeilng. Lots of "stay strong!' and "you're almost there!" and "way to go!" There's nothing like a road race for support!
Finally, as I came to the grassy slope downward to the finish and made the right-hand turn to run it in, my right knee finally had it. It completely seized up! I thought, "Oh hell no! I'm right here, there is NO way I'm going to walk!" Even though I felt like I was crabwalking in, I finished at a run--and in a time of 3 hours, 41 minutes and 28 seconds.
I made it--I beat the cutoff time! I was the last official finisher--two more came in after me, over the official time. I feel pretty good, though, considering the fitness level of my fellow competitors and knowing I was really not well prepared for this race.
I stopped for a moment while a volunteer cut the timing chip off my shoe, and she was apologizing for making me stand there. I told her, "That's OK, my knee seized up and I can't move anyway!" After she finished, she offered to get me a chair, but I just asked to stand still for a moment. Another five seconds, and I was able to sidestep over to a grassy area, and then, bing! My knee loosened up and I was fine.
I was sore, though. My legs were toast. The quads, hips, calves...even my toes would seize up on me if I tried to curl them a bit to stretch. WOW.
I walked for a while, maybe five minutes, and ate the rest of my Luna bar that was in my pocket. I had one Shot Blok left from the trail, but it didn't sound good so I let it be. I got my bag and fished out a banana, and ate that too. That helped. Then I sat down and stretched for a while, which made me feel almost back to normal. While I was stretching, several people I had spoken to in the morning came by to say hello and congratulate me. One woman said the nicest thing to me--"You're a real trail runner now!"
What a nice comment! I guess I am, aren't I?
I went and claimed my Schwag--a gorgeous soft mint-green short-sleeved North Face technical shirt, with the North Face Endurance Challenge logo on the sleeve. It is my new favorite running shirt! I also got a new pair of technical socks, and was treated to my "finisher's beer". It was apricot ale, and was marginal; I'm not a big beer fan, except for Lost Coast Apricot Wheat at the Lost Coast Brewery in Eureka, California--so I only had half and left it behind.
Before I left, though, there were raffles, and I went to listen to the awards. The fastest half marathoners ran that thing in 1 hour and 36 minutes. CRAZY! But the best part of that was the fact that DEAN KARNAZES was there to give everyone their awards!
Dean Karnazes (center)--my inspiration! Poor photo due to backlighting, but...wow!
I was so excited--he's a legend, and my inspiration. After the awards and raffles (I didn't win), I was able to meet Dean. I explained that I just wanted to tell him that I read both of his books and loved them. I also told him that I listened to Ultramarathon Man when I ran my first 20 miler. I said it got me through, because whenever I felt down, I just listened to what he was going through, and thought, if he can deal with THAT, I can do a 20 miler!
That's when he said something that blew me away. He told me I was an inspiration!! ME?!?!?? He shook my hand, too. Wow. He told me, "Don't ever stop!" And that's one of his sayings from his book. I said, "I'm trying not to!" and he said, "Good, I can tell!"
It was a great experience!
Anyway, I went back to the car, and found out on the shuttle that the 2nd aid station was at 8 miles, not 7.2 as was originally posted. That means that whoever told me that the race was closer to 15 miles was right. The elevation chart puts the distance at 14.56 miles.
Wow.
When I got to the car I had a full change of clothes, and was never so glad to clean up and change at the park's bathrooms. Especially my socks--they were so brown from the trail! I got back in the car, called my Dad to tell him what I'd been doing that morning, and headed back. I made a stop in Vacaville for Rubio's steak tacos and a peppermint mocha from Borders Books & Music cafe'. Then I headed home, making it in by 7 p.m. Total time round-trip: 14 1/2 hours, 3 1/2 of which were on the trail and 7 on the road.
The next day was interesting. I couldn't walk very well. It took me a couple days, but I'm now 100% back to normal. My hips, quads and calves have recovered, and I am ready to get back to the treadmill.
After all, there is another half marathon coming up in the spring! I don't know which one, but...it doesn't matter. I'll find one, and I'm there!
What a fantastic experience. If we are still in California next year, I'm doing this one again. Only this time, I'll train for the hills. I know what to expect, now.
Have a great day...and, DON'T EVER STOP!
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