Corktown 5k Race Report

St. Patrick's Day always reminds me of that joke: Someone asks you, "Got any Irish in you?" to which you respond, "I did once!" Okay! Off-color joke dispensed with, race report commencing.

From now on I am not going to sign up for any races anywhere other than the Southwest or California that don't take place between April and October. It's just not worth it! The chance of freezing your ass off is too great.

This morning it was a balmy 12 degrees at the start line of the Corktown 5k in Detroit. 12 degrees real temp with a 0 degree windchill. It could have been worse -- at least there was 0% chance of snow! I had to get there early because I wasn't sure about parking. The start line was right in front of Detroit's most famous abandoned building, the Michigan Central building. This:

It was also surrounded by lots of Detroit's less-famous abandoned buildings. Altogether a bleak and depressing scene. I did my homework before the race and found out that Corktown is Detroit's oldest ethnic neighborhood. First Irish, then Maltese (really! I always thought that was just a dog breed, not a nationality; shows what I know), then finally Latino. I couldn't tell what it was today other than empty. The St. Patrick's Day parade follows the race but it would take a braver and hardier person than me to stand out in that cold for any longer than I had to.

I sat in the car wrapped up in my giant, puffy jacket -- more like a comforter with arms and a hood -- running the heater until twenty minutes to start time. I spent the whole time berating myself for thinking one pair of threadbare tights was enough for a 0-degree windchill and wondering if I should just go home. But if I went home I would have nothing to blog about. Plus I was curious to see what my 5k time would be. It's been so long since I did a 5k I really didn't know.

I left my jacket in the car and stepped out into the icy cold wind and wanted to cry, but instead I just got in the porta-pottie line and began jumping up and down, running in place, and cursing the cold like everyone else was. I wanted to say this was the coldest I had ever been at a race start line but I knew that wasn't true. Nothing will ever be colder than the 3 hours in Hopkinton at the Boston Marathon start line. At least here I only had to be outside for 20 minutes before the race started.

Once I had gotten in my corral -- this is a huge race, and they had 4 waves -- the announcer said there were still lines at the registration table so the start was going to be delayed by 5 minutes while we waited for those people to finish registering. This generated a mass "Booooooooo!" from the runners and liberal use of the F-word as well as generalized grumbling. Come on, people, preregister or get here on time, seriously! We hopped, jumped, and ran in place while waiting. At least the Irish music booming through the speakers was exciting.

Finally we started. The race is an out and back down Michigan Avenue. The icy wind was straight into my face. I was wearing a neck gaiter but it promptly got wet with condensation from my breath and then froze stiff. The air was so cold my teeth hurt even with the gaiter covering my mouth. I consoled myself with the thought that it would be a tailwind on the return. My feet felt like blocks of ice clumping on the cobblestone street but I was making good time. I think Corktown might be a cool place to visit in, say, July. Not today.

When we got to the turnaround it was immediately obvious that the wind was still blowing just as hard. That HADN'T been a headwind at all, it had been a crosswind the whole time, and still was. I swear that often in my Michigan workouts the wind blows out in all directions from the center point of my workout loop. This was one of those times. But by this time, I didn't care because I was more than halfway done. As I got within sight of the finish line, I was passed by a guy running shirtless. I swear that no matter what the temperature, there will always be someone wearing hardly any clothes and claiming to run better that way.

I finished in 24:18, a 7:38 pace, which was about as good as I could've hoped for. I would've been happy with anything 8:00 or faster. Considering my winter fat, 7:38 is a respectable pace. As I crossed the finish line, it started to snow, big, fat flakes, and I wondered for not the first time why any Michigan forecaster would ever say 0% chance of anything weather-related. I say there is always a chance, for anything at all! By the time I got to my car, I could barely even see Michigan Central because of the snow. But by the time I pulled out of the parking lot, the snow had stopped and the sun was shining again.

This week's forecast looks much more promising, with nothing in the teens and a couple days in the 40's. I'm hoping for some good outdoor running!

S-P-R-I-N-G!!!

Well, not today, of course, as anyone in any part of the country that was violated by this late-winter blast of nastiness knows. This is the blog post I meant to write on Friday, or maybe it was Thursday, whatever that day last week was that it was WARM. (Not Tucson-warm, but Michigan-warm.) I'm writing it today instead of when it happened because when it happened I was outside enjoying it, not inside writing about it. Today, on the other hand, I have just returned from walking the dogs, a miserable slog through the latest 8 or so inches dumped on top of the grimy, pitted remains of the rest of the winter's unmelted snow. (At least it looks fresh and white again! There are few things more disgusting than late winter's leftover snow when most of it has melted and all the frozen trash and dog crap buried underneath are reemerging.) It's cold again too. The Carhartt snowsuit, the wader boots, the heavy gloves, all had been put away and had to be pulled out again. But even though today is an awful day (albeit made slightly better by an early dismissal from work), it is inevitable that spring is coming and soon, soon, soon! I can play outside again.

The feeling of the first not-miserably cold day is hard to describe. Giddy, joyful, glorious, alive with a sense of possibility, all come close. Last year the first snow that stuck and left no doubt that the terrible WINTER was here happened on November 22. On November 23 I layered up and set out, determined not to let weather stop me just like I didn't let 110 degrees stop me from running in Arizona. After having run less than a mile, I slipped and fell on a sheet of ice buried under the snow. I wasn't hurt, but the fear was now there, and if it was freezing at any point during the day* I could not run anything like fast, because I was too afraid of the ice monster hiding under the snow. (*It was always freezing at some point during the day. We've had well over 100 days this winter where it never got above freezing, and on most of them, to the best of my recollection, we've never even gotten close.) Anyway, I picked myself up from that fall and ran the rest of that 13-mile run, and haven't run outside since then, other than during vacations to California and Arizona, which seem like they happened in dreams. My reality now is cold and snow and biting wind and thermals and Carhartt and boots and gloves and running on the treadmill.

But on Friday there were none of those things. Oh, sure, there were huge... puddles is not the word, more like half-block-long lakes of frigid meltwater to splash through, but there was no ice anywhere at all on the sidewalk, and on the east side of the road where the sun hit in the afternoon the sidewalks were bone-dry. The air wasn't cold enough to freeze snot (that happens!) or hurt teeth just by breathing it in. I started with gloves but took them off in less than a mile. I passed lots of other runners and every one of them waved and smiled and I did the same back. We're free! Released from the prison of the treadmill! I was supposed to run four miles but ended up doing six just because it felt so good to be outside and not freezing. Best of all, I was able to average 8:05 pace. Not great by any means, but considering my 20 pounds of winter fat and the fact that I've been on the treadmill for months and this whole run was made of hills, I was pretty proud of it! I am sure at least some of the reason I had such a good run was that in my head I was yelling, "Take THAT, winter! Die, evil bitch, die! You have ruled for a long time but Mr. Sun is going to VANQUISH you! See Mr. Sun over there? Feel his warmth on your face? I DO!!" and other things of that nature. (I think I was only yelling them in my head. I may have been yelling out loud. I'm not sure.)

I can't wait till I can run outside every day in just one layer, and the gym is a thing of the past except for swimming. I can't wait till I can bike again! Although, looking at the shape these roads are in I'm not sure I can EVER bike again. Talk about potholes... these are more like sinkholes. Giant, axle-busting, car-wrecking sinkholes that eat up entire curbside lanes. (See, for example, article here and video here.) How or when these will ever be fixed is impossible to know, but until they are, I'm probably not going to bike anywhere except at Stoney Creek, and that's after I drive my bike there in my car. That is where all the triathletes train on the bike anyway. Oh, Michigan, you suck so much for road bikers...

Anyway, spring is almost here even though I am in thermals again sitting in front of the heat dish trying to thaw out from walking the dogs, and looking at a low of 0 for tomorrow and a range of 10-27 for Sunday, 5k day. It's worth it to be here, it's worth it to be here, it's worth it to be here! Right?

Some Day This Blasted Winter Will End...

...and I will have something to write about again. I can't wait for that day! I have hope that it will come, even though last night, the first night of March, it snowed 4 more inches, and today, the second day of March, we only briefly made it into double digits and only for a very short time. Surely this has to stop soon, right?

And surely I have to want to do something athletic again, right? Some day? Oh, it's not that I haven't been doing anything. I belong to the nice gym and because it's so expensive, I am there at least four or five times a week or else I start thinking I'm not getting my money's worth and if I'm not going to get my money's worth, maybe I ought to just stop paying for it and accept that I live in the Midwest now and can get fat...NO! Unthinkable! Anyway, I'm going to the gym regularly and listlessly plodding through an hour on the elliptical or on the treadmill or in the pool or in spin class, but talk about no passion whatsoever. I don't know if I will ever get it back or if it's just something that was part of my Arizona life and isn't part of my Michigan life. I can explain it a few different ways, thusly:

1) THE WEATHER. Well, obviously. It's super hard to feel like busting ass when the weather busts you every day. We have had by all reports the worst winter in recent memory, both with snowfall and with the crazy, bitter cold. Last year I came for my interview in January, and it was 55 and rainy. I remember running in one layer and thinking, Yes, this sucks but it is doable. I wish I could get mad at someone for false advertising. I really have nothing more to say about this winter; everyone knows it sucks, and the whole country has heard about it for several months now and doesn't need to hear about it anymore. I will only add that I have to work outside in it (if I want my dogs to get trained for class next month) every day and that leaves me with no energy at all to spend any more time outside in it at the end of the work day. Also, it's not the cold that stops me from running so much as it is the ice. If I slip and break an ankle, I can't do my job anymore, period. And that would be very bad. So, no running and no riding till there's no more ice. Which might not be until April, the way it's been lately.

2) THE "WORK-LIFE BALANCE" IS ALL WORK. This is not really a bad thing. My job in Tucson was the place I went to recover from my grueling weekend workouts. While the people I worked with were nice (mostly), I had little in common with them outside of work and almost never, with only two exceptions that I remember, voluntarily did anything social with them after work hours. (One of those exceptions being biking 50 miles, with an unspoken agreement to never ever mention work during those 50 miles, and the other exception being something currently unmentionable on a public blog.) The people in WOG and TTR were the cool people in my life, the interesting ones, the ones who I wanted to spend time with. I did not see those people at work, so I had to see them outside of work. Here, it is completely different. ALL my friends in Michigan are work friends. I don't know if it's just that I work with cooler people to begin with, or if it is shared passion for the job (as opposed to shared enjoyment of high salary, non-taxing workload, and job security that I had in Tucson), but the people I work with all day are simply more interesting than any other people. I don't have any desire to go outside of work and meet new people or get involved in any local athletic community because, why should I? I have everything I need right there at Leader. And my coworkers work out, too. Lots of us (grudgingly) go to the gym right after work. But it is just something we do because we should and because we don't want to be fat and because we don't (most of us) want to change our eating habits. Actual enjoyment of it? I don't think anyone would actually go that far. (Long-time readers of this blog know that I have NEVER claimed enjoyment of running, triathlon, or any other form of workout. But they have always been part of my identity in a way that they just are not right now.) Don't get me wrong -- it is great to have a job so engrossing and fascinating that it's not just a job, it's a hobby. But it doesn't leave room for much else.

3) NO CONNECTION TO THE LOCAL OUTDOOR SPORTS COMMUNITY. This is related to #2 and is totally my own fault. There are all kinds of outdoor sports groups here. There is an awesome running group right there in Rochester. I ran with them off and on through the summer and fall. That group was full of great people, and the dynamic reminded me so much of ComeRun that I am kicking myself for not continuing to run with them. What happened? It got dark and cold and I got to feeling guilty for leaving the dogs in the kennel for such a long time and I felt like I should be going to the gym because I was paying for it and... and... I haven't run with the group since November. Not that they're doing much running either. But still, going back there as soon as it gets warmer might be a good idea.

4) I'M HAPPY. My best training has always taken place when I was trying to get over something or channel life-related stress into something more productive than sitting home drinking. When life is happy, there is so much less motivation to try to change anything. I'm glad I'm happy (or as happy as I can be, not living in Tucson). But why do happiness and motivation seem so mutually exclusive?

I have exactly one race on my calendar, the Corktown 5K in Detroit March 16. I haven't run a 5K in a long time, except for the Meet Me Downtown 5K in Tucson, which I ran every year just because I loved downtown Tucson so much I couldn't NOT run it. I registered for this one because it is a huge race and because they have a cool shirt. The first year I was in Tucson, I ran practically every local race just to see what they were all about. Maybe I need to do the same thing in Michigan; maybe I will magically become interested in the community again and make new running friends and start signing up for marathons again and get the missing piece of myself back? But then again, I would not want to trade that missing piece for all the other missing pieces I've found here, either. I guess we will just have to see.

The Worst __________ Ever (Lehigh Valley Health Network Via Marathon Report)

This was Marathon #27 and State #20, and in all those marathons I don't remember saying, "This was the worst (anything) I've ever seen in a marathon" very often. I did say, after San Diego Rock and Roll in 2011, that the line for the shuttle at the finish line -- a line a mile long in the sunny, blacktop, 85-degree Sea World parking lot -- was the worst logistical mess I had ever seen. And it was -- until this weekend in Allentown, Pennsylvania! Somehow this race managed to have BOTH the worst start line parking and the worst finish line shuttle ever, which is quite an accomplishment for a marathon calling itself a runner's marathon.

Anyway, I had picked this marathon a few months ago with the goal of qualifying for Boston and with the secondary goal of visiting friends in New Jersey, where I used to live. I knew I was not going to qualify for Boston -- since the Ann Arbor Marathon in early June, I had run 18 miles once and 17 miles once, and that was it for long runs -- but I was still looking forward to the marathon. The Lehigh Valley is beautiful, the course was described as easy and scenic, and fall is the best time for marathons. Also, I got to see Joan from WOG the night before, and that was great too. So it should have just been a nice day running, even if I didn't get the time I wanted.

The first part of the problem was-- I admit it! -- my fault. Even though the event website told us exactly how to get to the start line ("If coming from west of the Northeast Extension", etc), I was too lazy to look at a map to figure out what direction I was coming from and instead just used Google Maps to get directions to Lehigh Valley Hospital. (Quote from the Athlete Guide: "This net descent course starts marathon runners and relay teams at Lehigh Valley Hospital in Allentown, PA. Maybe an odd location to start, but it’s easy to find and has plenty of parking." Ha.) So I searched Lehigh Valley Hospital Allentown PA and my map told me I was only 1.7 miles from it. Perfect! I slept in till 5, and at 5:45 was turning into the hospital parking lot for a 7 a.m. start only... there was no one there. No race setup, no signs, no nothing. I was sitting in front of a giant neon sign that said "Lehigh Valley Hospital" but it was, obviously, the WRONG Lehigh Valley Hospital. Okay. This was a setback but I was still early and had plenty of time. I opened the Athlete Guide on my phone and typed in the name of the exit and found that I was 14 miles away. Well, geez! Who even knew that Allentown was that big. Anyway, it was all freeway so it went fast until I got about a mile from the exit. At that point traffic in the right lane stopped. There was no other traffic on I-78 except for traffic in the right lane. The backup started at the top of a huge hill and I could look down and see a long line of brake lights all the way to the exit. Well, actually three long lines of brake lights. One line in the right lane and the other two lines parallel to the right lane as drivers, desperate to get off at the exit, passed up as much of the line as they dared and then shoved in.

I sat in this bottleneck and at first told myself not to worry, it would move, but it didn't. It wasn't even creeping. It just wasn't moving at all. I decided someone must have been hit, and it must have been serious for traffic to be dead stopped for so long. It was 6:15, then 6:20, then 6:30. Parking lots were supposed to close at 6:40. Some runners (who presumably had other people driving them) were running along the side of the freeway. I thought about getting back on the freeway and going to the next exit and letting the GPS reroute me but then I realized with road closures and the way Pennsylvania roads just meander around in random directions that might just be making a bad situation worse, so stayed where I was. As terrible as it was, I began to think maybe I would just get out of doing this marathon! If I didn't get to the start line soon, I wouldn't be able to finish and get back in time to check out of the hotel. So maybe I could just NOT RUN! Go back to bed, have some more coffee, read my book, have a leisurely day with my friends in New Jersey, do the Pittsburgh Marathon later for my Pennsylvania race and just write this trip off as a visit to Jersey PERIOD.

Then traffic started moving at 6:40. Moving slowly, but moving. Bummer! By now I had almost accepted the idea that I wouldn't have to run, and now it looked like I was going to have to. I saw that some runners had parked their cars on the side of the freeway and left them there. I guess they were more concerned about missing the start than I was! 

The assigned parking was closed by the time I pulled up at 6:55. I just parked in the first visitors lot I came to and then sprinted for the start line. I got there at 7:02 and stood just this side of the first timing chip mat adjusting my waistpack, setting up my music, etc while people yelled, "Go! Go!" and pointed at the start like I didn't know where it was. Do they not know about chip timing? I glanced at the Porta Potties and should have just stopped there! but I didn't. I was tired of being yelled at to GO and I figured I would just go on the course. (NOTE: starting a marathon without going to the bathroom -- especially after a giant cup of coffee -- is one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Did I think there wouldn't be an issue with that? Seriously?) 

I have never started a marathon after the gun went off; it was a totally new experience. Kind of fun, actually, as I passed hundreds of people without hardly even trying in those first couple of miles. I was cranky because I had been thinking I was going to get out of running and now I had no choice but to run. Also I felt tired and out of breath from the beginning. (Probably those extra 15 pounds I'm carrying! All that junk food consumed in the process of fixing up the house, coming back to haunt me...) I can't even tell you what the course was like, really, except that it did have a lot of downhill. It was warm and humid. This would not have been the day to forget a sweat/spit rag and luckily for me I did not forget it. Eventually we wound up on a towpath running alongside a canal, and that was pretty. The footing was dirt and sometimes chipped asphalt, which I enjoyed but apparently a lot of people didn't (based on the reviews on marathonguide.com, which slammed the race for not warning people it was more like a trail race than a road race). 

The course was shady and pretty but boring after a while. Flat, green, yes, pretty next to the water with steam rising off it but after that many miles you get tired of looking at anything no matter how pretty. The website had advertised aid stations every 1.5 to 2 miles but there was a stretch of almost 4 miles with no aid stations, between Miles 8 and 12. I would've been mad if I had been planning on a drink at Mile 10. That was really the only problem I had with the course itself. 

Around the half-marathon mark we got to get off the water and briefly run through a park of 18th century industrial buildings in Bethlehem, which was cool. I really have always liked this part of Pennsylvania and wish I had had more time to look at stuff. My time at the half was 1:48, which was just under BQ pace, but I had felt crappy the whole time and knew I would slow down soon. It was back on the waterside path after that nice little break. I honestly don't remember much about the second half other than a general impression of shade, trees, water, and flat. Oh, except that I finally had to stop to pee at Mile 20. I could not believe I had waited that long! I must have the best bladder in the world. 

By then I was still running only because I was so worried about getting back to the hotel (where Duncan had been in his crate since 5:30) and checking out in time. Nothing was really hurting and for once I wasn't nauseous. Oh, of course my legs felt like sticks of dead wood since they hadn't run this far in three months but I didn't have an injury. By the time I got to the finish I saw I would be just under 4 hours. My GPS said 3:56 but my chip time was 3:57:22. Not the time I wanted, but the time I deserved. (Actually BETTER than the time I deserved.) I didn't feel sick for once, and after picking up the unspectacular medal I went to look for food. There were granola bars and pretzels and that was it. I asked about fruit but the volunteers told me it was all gone and pointed at empty bags and boxes that used to have oranges and bananas. Gone? Finishing around 4 hours is not super impressive but it is not slow enough that all the fruit should be gone. On a hot day like this that was all I really wanted, so I took a couple water bottles and went in search of the shuttles. 

After being directed to a completely wrong place by a volunteer, I finally wandered around enough to find the line, and right away got a bad feeling. Not only was the line incredibly long, it was in an active parking lot with cars constantly pulling in and out and with no shade at all. Marathoners and half-marathoners were in the same line and no one knew how often the shuttles were running. The guy in the front of the line had been there 45 minutes and had seen one shuttle. After 40 minutes in line, two shuttles pulled up, one giant charter bus and one the size of a paratransit bus. Luckily the giant one was for marathoners and the small one for half-marathoners. I made it onto the bus; it was standing room only and we were packed in there, which no one minded because at least we were not standing in that parking lot anymore. 

The bus was like a sauna with all those people packed on. It reeked like... words fail me. Imagine a couple hundred runners having just finished a warm-weather marathon and then having stood in the sun for anywhere from 40 minutes to an hour and a half. It was not a good smell. Everyone was desperate for the bus to get going so the air could be turned on. Finally the bus pulled away from the curb and started crawling through the completely jammed up streets of Easton. Still no air. Everyone was playing with the vents above the seats but there was nothing, not even the tiniest movement of air. People yelled at the driver to turn on the air but we were in the back and couldn't hear his response and don't know if he even heard us. It was not possible to open the windows so eventually we gave up and just suffered. Those of us who were standing had to hold the handles above us to keep our balance and sweat just poured off of us. I watched the guy standing next to me drip sweat like a faucet on the guy sitting in the seat next to him. There was nothing anyone could do. Finally we got out of Easton and onto the freeway. I had never looked at the course map so didn't realize just how far we had to drive. Oh! 22 miles, said some guy who had his phone out. Everyone shut up when they heard that, thinking of enduring this bus for that long.

That shuttle ride was the single most miserable thing that has ever happened to me that was in any way related to a race. Other marathon problems -- freezing cold at the start line in Boston, that Sea World parking lot in San Diego, walking the entire Mt. Lemmon Marathon on a stress fracture -- NOTHING came close to this. It was hard to keep a lid on the sense of impending panic attack -- no way out, hard to breathe, intolerably hot, lots of other people in the same situation any one of whom might give in to the urge to panic and start a mass panic where people would get trampled... I truly believe that could have happened. It got worse when we finally got to our exit and people started mumbling, "Just open the doors and let us out! Hurry up, man!" I cannot describe the relief that everyone on that bus felt when they stepped out into the fresh air. That shuttle ride scarred me to the point that I not only have literally experienced it in a terrifying dream once already, but also I know that I will never, EVER get on a shuttle without assurance that the air is working. What excuse could there possibly be for not having any air moving? Not even a fan? I can't imagine. 

Of course I had no idea where I left my car, AND I was desperate to get back to the motel for checkout, so I had to run through what felt like acres of parking lots until I finally stumbled on it mostly by luck. Just what I wanted to do after running a marathon -- run through parking lots! I made it back fine, I'm glad to have another state done, I was no more sore than usual, it was great to see Joan and my friends from Jersey, but that marathon I have to say was the worst marathon experience out of all the ones I have done, and that's saying something!

Boston Qualifying, I Don't Think So... Oh Well

I am good at teaching class at Leader Dog, I am pretty good at buying a fixer-upper house and fixing up what I can and finding people to do the fixing that I can't do, I am really good at packing up my house to move, I am good at training new dogs... but apparently I am NOT good at doing those things and training for a Boston qualifier. In fact, my training has pretty much sucked. (And my blog writing has COMPLETELY sucked, so bad that I don't know if it will ever recover or not.)

First of all, class. Class ran from July 7 through August 1. My only day off in that whole time span was July 31. Days in class were very long. I lived in the dorm at Leader and had to get up and take care of my own dogs first thing in the morning, then work with my students from 7:15 in the morning till at least 4:30 in the afternoon, then take care of my dogs again and give them some decent exercise since they were spending so much time locked up in the kennel. So it was at least 5:30 by the time I could even think about exercising. (And that was if I wasn't on duty, which I was six nights, which meant that I worked with my students till 8:00 at night.) Even with those long days, though, I did okay in class. No long runs, but I worked out more days then not, and lost almost ten pounds by telling the kitchen crew at Leader not to feed me anything but fruit, vegetables, and egg whites. That diet plus the stress of teaching class and doing all the work necessary to make sure my students were happy and safe with their new guide dogs made it not that hard to lose weight. And losing weight makes me able to run faster. So I figured with one month between the end of class and the marathon, I still had a shot.

But then... the house. This is a really nice house, BUT. It was owned by a cat lady, not updated in probably 30 years, vacant for two years, mouse-infested, and I could go on. I bought it because the mortgage is half what I'm paying for rent and because its backyard literally opens into a nature preserve with a paved exercise path running through it. In other words, a giant backyard that I don't have to mow. It's an awesome house. Mom came out a few days before the end of class to work on the house while I was in class. That was the idea. But closing was delayed over a week. So we couldn't do anything on the house at all. Stress, stress, stress. Then when closing finally happened we had four and a half days to work (which is what I did with my week off after class). Mom worked 12-17 hour days every day, doing nasty stuff like ripping up carpet and sitting in puddles of carpet adhesive remover scraping up adhesive that was older than me. I didn't work as many hours but that was because I had to keep going home and letting the dogs out periodically. I bleached walls and pulled up tack strips (exposing crumbling asbestos tiles, which will probably kill me but hopefully not for a while, till I've had time to enjoy the house and make it worthwhile). I also had to find a floor guy (Home Depot wouldn't touch it because of the asbestos), painters, and electrician, a handyman, duct cleaners, et cetera, all of which required phone calls and appointments, things I hate. It was obvious from Day One that this house was going to suck up all my energy and time if I wanted to move in by the end of the month and that doing all this work would only be possible if I was fueled by junk food. ("If we finish bleaching all the walls, tonight we can eat dinner at Ram's Horn at midnight when we're done.") Without junk food, there is no way I could have done all this work. So I have probably gained back all the weight I lost in class. I'm afraid to look and my scale is packed.

I came back to work this past Monday and got new dogs. In four months these dogs will be well-trained guide dogs, but right now working with them feels like I'm steer wrestling in a rodeo. What's stronger than a 14-month-old Lab who weighs 80 pounds and was used to living with a family but is now living in the kennels and getting about 10% of the exercise he's used to getting? Nothing! I finish work every day profoundly tired from working with these dogs and barely able to find the energy to walk my own dogs, let alone go home and work on the house some more, let alone work out.

Since the Ann Arbor Marathon in early June, I've done ONE long run. And that one was only 18 miles. And it wasn't Boston qualifying pace. It was close, but not that close. My shorter runs, anything under half-marathon distance, have all been where they should be pace-wise, but I am ready to collapse when I finish them and know I won't be able to keep that pace for a whole marathon. Maybe I should be more upset about this -- I really would have loved to do Boston with WOG people next year -- but I'm not really that upset at all. The way I think about qualifying for Boston -- for me, anyway -- is that for me to do it, I have to be at a point in my life where I am able to prioritize Boston training over everything else. I just plain am not at that point right now. Nothing is more important than teaching class and giving my students all of my energy, time, and focus, and now that class is over, well, I have to be out of this house and into that house by the end of the month, and I don't have enough money to pay someone to do all that for me, so.... if I don't do it, no one will. I can't just put those things on hold to get my mileage done. So I am just going to look forward to seeing people in New Jersey when I go to the marathon, having a nice run, hanging out with Joan before and after the race, and getting another state done. I guess it's not impossible that I could qualify, but I think it's highly unlikely and even if I did, it would be by the skin of my teeth, which wouldn't even be enough to get me in most likely.

Oh well. I can still go to Boston next year and be a spectator while my awesome fast friends from Tucson run it!

No Other Plans? Run A Marathon. (Ann Arbor Marathon Report)

This was how I decided to run the Ann Arbor Marathon today. (Keep in mind that if you had asked me when my next race was, say, yesterday at 5:00 in the afternoon, I would've said Lehigh in September.) I skipped the group long run yesterday, for no other reason than that I slept in because I was still tired from my very long work day in Kalamazoo on Thursday. I told myself I would go to Lifetime and do the elliptical, but I never did because shopping for clothes sucked my soul out of me and the only things I had energy to do were eat crappy food and drive around looking at houses. So, okay, I was going to do the group run on Sunday. Well, this week there wasn't one, everyone ran on Saturday instead. Still learning the local group. So yesterday evening I was sitting at home wondering where I would run and thinking maybe two loops around Stoney which would only give me twelve miles. And I didn't even want to do that because that stupid nagging hip pain was still going on (has been ever since that ill-advised charge across the trampoline at Sky Zone during trampoline dodgeball).

As I was sitting idly at my computer, knowing deep down I was not going to do a damn thing on Sunday except sit around eating and possibly mow the lawn if I got really ambitious, I thought, when was the Ann Arbor Marathon again? I looked it up and found that, oh, it was tomorrow. I thought, I wonder if they have race day registration? thinking, no, of course they don't, no marathons do. I checked on their website and, guess what, race day registration was available. Okay. I thought about it and thought about the pain in my hip and knew, because I knew myself, that I would NOT take time off to let the mystery injury heal; I would keep running until it either repaired itself or else blew up. If it was a real injury, maybe it would blow up in a marathon faster than it would in the 30 miles or so a week I'm doing now. Okay, let's let it blow up, then, and if it doesn't, I need to stop being a pussy about it and quit complaining.

This morning was beautiful -- cool, overcast, not humid, a perfect day for running. I drove the 45 minutes to Ann Arbor. Ann Arbor is one of those places that I have been to a disproportionate number of times considering how short of a time I've lived here. I love everything about it, the downtown, the lush green hills and tree-lined streets, the powerhouse University, the beautiful Huron River, everything. About the marathon itself I knew nothing except that it was hilly. Well, of course, you couldn't have a flat marathon in Ann Arbor; it would be like having a flat marathon in San Francisco, can't be done. But I didn't know exactly what the elevation changes were or where the hills were because I couldn't get the pages to load at 9:00 last night on my computer. So I went into it totally clueless.

It was absolutely perfect weather, the kind of day you never, ever get in the desert. Nice cloud cover but with just enough sun behind the clouds to color the sunrise clouds pink and orange. Just one day like this is good preventative medicine for missing Tucson too much. There were supposedly around 1000 people in the marathon. It started at the U Mich stadium. I paid my registration at 6:10, walked into and out of the porta-potty line in under 5 minutes, and strolled casually up to the very front of the start line because the crowd was so sparse there was no reason not to. The race director was introducing one of the runners, a guy who, at 85 years old, was running his 150th marathon. He had started running when he was 50 and overweight. Anyone who says "I'm too old to run!" needs to look at this guy. Anyway, after she introduced him we all took off. This was a small marathon but it still had pace teams for every 5-minute goal time. I had no plans to run with any pace group because I had no goal time. I just wanted to run moderately hard or as hard as my injury would let me.

The first few miles went through campus and then down a beautiful residential street, and I do mean down. There was so much downhill that I stayed right in front of the 3:30 pace group for the first 4 or 5 miles, and I was not even breathing hard. I wasn't trying to stay ahead of them, just trying to run at a comfortable speed. Then we came out onto a path that ran along the river. The river was beautiful, huge and slow and lazy. It invited fishing or kayaking or swimming or picnicking or just about anything you would want to do on or near a river. I felt so good on that path I was doing 8:00 pace with no trouble at all and having very enjoyable flashbacks to the way it felt to be in top shape and to know I was going to shatter my PR and qualify for Boston with time to spare. I even dared to think maybe I would qualify for Boston today. I had no idea what the hills to come would look like, but I knew I liked a course with some hills as opposed to a completely flat one, so maybe...? I mean, if I felt that good it was certainly a possibility.

We left the path at Mile 8-ish and came out onto a big out-and-back, Huron Parkway. It was uphill on the way out and mostly downhill (but with a headwind) on the way back. It was boring, but I was still well-ahead of the 3:40 pace group (although I had lost sight of 3:30 by now and 3:35 was in the distance ahead of me). The weather was still perfect. I have often thought that the cool air out here tastes so delicious it's almost like you can drink it like water. (Or slice your throat open with it in winter, but I digress.) Once we were done with Huron Parkway, we got a long, boring uphill back to campus, during which I lost some enthusiasm and was passed by the 3:40 pace group. Oh well. I really didn't think I could BQ today anyway. It was nice to be back on campus. There was a lot more to see there. Especially when the course turned onto a beautiful, shady dirt trail that was also a screaming downhill. I think it went through the Arboretum, or something? That party ended when the trail began to go as steeply uphill as it just had gone downhill and I ran out of energy and walked. It was still pretty, beautiful even, but steep.

The trail spit us out on campus again and I managed a slow jog. We came out from campus onto State Street and here the course turned to crap. It was the longest out and back yet in a boring, deserted commercial area. I felt like it was sucking my soul. I wanted to walk the whole thing but couldn't shake a feeling I was doing moderately well and should keep running unless I had a physical reason to walk, which I didn't. (No nausea, no pain, just a messy blister forming on the bottom of my right foot, but I could run through that. So I did.) The sun was out now (though only briefly, thankfully) and I was not the only one who was visibly short of enthusiasm. I saw one girl puking and a whole bunch of people walking. We were headed uphill and could not see the top of the hill, only that wherever it was it was a looooooong way in the distance.

Finally we reached the top of the hill at Mile 21 and ran down the other side of it. The course then circled a shopping mall for a mile. There were no cones blocking the lanes and I watched a runner almost get hit by a bus. I had picked up company by now, this girl who was as pissed about the suckiness of State Street as I was and, also like me, did not object to throwing around the F-word to communicate the extent of her displeasure with everything about this part of the course -- the hill, the scenery, the lack of safe traffic controls, everything. Bitching made the mile around the shopping center fly by, and then once we made it around the shopping center and started on the "back" part of State Street, I felt better just seeing all the runners still on the "out" part. I guess I am just a bitch. Because as much as I hate "outs" on the out and backs, I love the "backs" even more. Something about seeing other people suffering like I just was, but now am not, gives wings to my feet.

There was a good amount of both steep uphill and steep downhill in the last six miles. This made it harder, in my mind, than Flying Pig, because at Flying Pig the last six miles were nearly all downhill. I had not been passed by the 3:50 pace group and also hadn't looked at my Garmin in a long time. I finally looked at it with half a mile to go and saw that it was on 3:45, which meant under 3:50 was not only achievable but mandatory since I was so close and felt basically okay. I came across the finish line at 3:49-something (after having to slow for that last sprint across the field to the line because a very slow, very wide line of half-marathon WALKERS was spread out right in front of me).

I felt fine at the finish but not quite up to doing justice to the great spread -- pizza, cookies, giant muffins, smoothies, all kinds of stuff. I had a banana and half a piece of pizza, which I chewed on until my stomach gave me the "Not This" message and then I spit it in the trash. Believe me, sitting on my deck writing this I would happily eat the whole freaking pizza right now, and may just do that later. I am very happy with my time. Ten minutes faster than at Flying Pig a month ago, on a harder course. I am proud of myself for being able to get out and run a decent marathon with less than 12 hours notice. And I am hopeful for my September marathon being my Boston qualifier!

(Marathon #26 and State #19, for those keeping count.)

Marathon # I Don't Know Exactly, State # I'm Not Sure Anymore

I never thought that I would lose track of how many marathons I've run or how many states I've done, but, surprise! That happened. I THINK this is my 25th marathon and my 18th state but I will have to go home and count bibs on the refrigerator or else get a big US map and check off states to know for sure.

I always knew my Ohio marathon would be Flying Pig, just because it's the biggest and most famous and Ohio is not a state I ever get excited about for any reason, so I figured I would need to do a fun marathon just to make Ohio enjoyable at all. In my head all of Ohio is flyover country and boring. If I hadn't moved to Michigan I'm sure this would have been one of my last states. But because I DID move to Michigan, I signed up for it. It happens to be on my birthday this year. I'm 37 and I take great pleasure in the fact that not only am I running a marathon on my birthday, but also I look better than I did at 17 AND at 27! Take that, aging process!

I was surprised to find that Cincinnati is actually a really pretty city, with the river and the hills and the bridges and the trees and the cool downtown buildings. I did notice as I was driving to the hotel that there were an awful lot of hills. The course was described as hilly too, although I had looked at the elevation profile and only saw one that looked sort of bad, and even that one was only a 400' climb spread out over a few miles. So not bad at all. I wasn't expecting great things from this marathon. I'm both seriously undertrained and fat. I mean, I ran a 20-something back in mid-February and then everything got all messed up because of the move and the cold. Literally I ran one 16-miler in early April (and fell apart on the last 2 miles of that) and then did the 16 miles of Kamran's trail ultra a couple weeks ago -- but that was not really much running. Other than that I've done a couple of 10-to-12 milers and that's it! I just barely decided I was going to lose weight and requalify for Boston a couple weeks ago, but I haven't done that yet and am 20 lbs over my Boston-qualifying weight. So I was not expecting anything great and didn't really even want to try. I planned to walk whenever I wanted and be without a time goal other than that I really should be under 5 hours.

I must say this marathon was one of my favorites. They've had the same race director for eleven years and there was not a single thing about the race that didn't go smoothly. The weather on race morning was warm. I had debated over whether to wear my Boston Marathon shirt or my Marathon Maniacs shirt. I decided last night it would be the Maniacs shirt because it was sleeveless, but then when I tried it on last night I saw that I was too fat to wear it. A roll of stomach fat was hanging out under the bottom of the shirt. Can't have that! Boston shirt it would be, even though I thought it was really too warm for that. I figured I could always roll the sleeves up.

At the start line, we could go into Paul Brown Stadium and use the bathrooms there. There was enough room in the stadium to run your warm-up there, if you wanted to. I imagine that is much appreciated in rainy years. I was warm at the start, always a bad sign. But there was a beautiful pink and orange sunrise straight ahead. The start line was right downtown next to the river. Everything was very well-organized and went off without a hitch. The streets on the course were wide and for the number of people running (20,000 between the half and the full, which started together) there was hardly any of the run-a-few-steps-then-screech-to-a-halt-because-of-congestion that there usually is at big marathon start lines. The first few miles went through and around downtown. We ran over one bridge into Kentucky, and then over a different bridge back into Ohio. I was grumpy and did not want to be running. I don't know why. I was just thinking of all the things I would rather be doing, like lying in the hotel taking a nap, or reading my book or spectating on the sidelines with Frieda. My feet hurt for no reason, my leg hurt for the stupid reason that I had tripped going up the stairs to the bathrooms at the start line and given some muscle a little pull, my U of A visor was bugging me because it was too low over my eyes but if I tightened it so it would stay up then it would be too tight and uncomfortable on my head. Et cetera. I wanted to quit, pretty bad, for no real reason. I scolded myself and reminded myself of Tom in Zane Grey, Kamran in the 100-miler, all the WOGgers in Boston, Keith who just won a marathon yesterday, none of them quitters. I bitched and moaned in my head for the whole first 5 miles and then we hit "the hill" and suddenly, inexplicably, I felt better. I ran all the way up the hill feeling fine. About 2/3 of the way up we went into Eden Park, which had such stunning views of the city and river that I wanted to stop and stare. But I didn't, I just kept running.

Okay, so this race does have some up hills but it has a lot of downhill too. So much that by the half-marathon I was wishing it would flatten out or even climb again. My quads were sore and both my ankles and my Achilles hurt. I love Newtons but I do feel like they don't really have much stability, especially around the ankles. Any suggestions for shoes with the same heel-toe drop as Newtons but more stability would be much appreciated!

My half-marathon time was 1:55, which would be a 3:50 finish if I kept it up. I had no plans of keeping it up, just wanted to keep running until I couldn't run anymore so that I could get done as soon as possible and get to the eating part. My brother had mentioned something about a grilled cheese donut and I wanted that, bad, whatever it was. It was sprinkling rain and had actually gotten cooler since the start. The forecast had been for 30% chance of rain the last time I looked at it; well, someone got that wrong because it rained for the rest of the race. I didn't mind that -- much -- because it wasn't, at that point, a miserable downpour, just a light rain that made me glad I wore my long sleeves after all.

Miles 16-18 is where I usually fall apart but today I was strong through those miles. I got to twenty miles at 2:57 and knew I had it in me to go under 4 hours, if I wanted to. I still didn't care. But I did think I should keep running unless an obvious reason to walk presented itself. My feet hurt but not terribly, and I wasn't nauseous like I usually am. Also, the course was a gentle downhill practically all the way to the finish. I just kept running.

When I got to Mile 24 it was obvious I would be right around 4 hours exactly. I was running long according to my Garmin -- .33 miles ahead of the race mile markers, which meant I would run 26.5 miles, not 26.2. I was annoyed with myself because I had run fast enough to make 4 hours attainable (I had been planning on a 4:20, 4:30-ish finish or maybe even more, but there's no dignity in a 4:02 finish.) Plus, the 4:00 pace group had appeared out of nowhere and were right on my heels. I could not bear to be passed by the pace group at Mile 25, so I had to speed up.

I could see the finish line right in front of me and I saw 3:58 on my Garmin, so I had to speed up racing down the chute to the finish. I stopped my watch on 3:59 and hope it matches my chip time; who knows when I actually pushed "Start". The rain had turned into a downpour by the time I walked through the Recovery Zone, picking up huge handfuls of fruit and crackers and bars and water and everything else I could carry. I was soaked by the time I got to the car. I felt bad for all those people still out on the course. Even now, many hours later, it is STILL pouring outside. Hasn't let up at all. I will not be going outside if I can help it!

Overall I am really pleased with my time. It used to be a big deal to be under 4 hours, and my average marathon time is still 4:10, so to do 4 hours when I haven't really been training is pretty cool. Happy birthday to me! This was a great marathon and for anyone looking for a nice course and the "big marathon" feel without the big marathon logistics complications, I totally recommend it. Plus, it has a really cool medal: