Many will tell you that in order to stay focused, you must have a goal; a set number or grade or feeling...etc. "You have to know where you're going, or else any road will take you there." is a quote that recently came across. Well touche, my good sir, but I say au contraire. Goals are fun and certainly important, but what ever happened to doing something because it was, well, fun?
This is especially evident in the realm of endurance sports. We are always chasing the clock (see "grains in an hourglass", one of my previous posts) and not thinking about how cool it is that we can run (or swim, or bike) as far and as well as we do. Somewhere between the intervals and combinations of sets and reps we lose the concept of self achievement. Even a bad workout is awesome. Did those 400's beat you up this morning? Instead of being discouraged, just let it go. A bad workout doesn't mean a darn thing. If you eliminate expectations, then you also eliminate the doubts and fears that come with them. It's kind of like cutting loose of the shackles. All is successful when there is no chance at failure.
Some people do respond well to goals, and it's a great tool for someone who isn't used to training or competing. But for those of us who have had our hearts broken on the course a few times, maybe it's time to chuck the goal out the window and just do what you can on that day. One of my favorite quotes is "When I have done the best I can with what I have, then I have won my race." This is a better motto than any of those that suggest that you should be near death when you cross the finish line...
Now that I am contemplating what my next pursuit is, I have decided that it will not include a certain number. I simply want to be the best I can be, and get that "raw competitor" feeling back. I saw a side of me that I didn't know existed in my half marathon 2 months ago, and that's what I want to go for every time I race. I had no goal for that race, and it will probably be my best performance as a whole for years to come.
Of course, you have to assess yourself. How are you motivated? Ask yourself honestly, would you train for hours and hours a day, even if you didn't have a goal? Finding what works for you both physically and mentally really affects the approach you take. I think I've found mine.
For getting through my rant, you can now enjoy some post-marathon stories:
1. Walking to class on Monday after the race was miserable. I waddled like I had a stick...erm, nevermind.
2. The stairs were even worse. I side-stepped up, and then used the railings like crutches on the way down. When boarding the bus, people slammed into me because it would take me so long to get in and out. Oh, and I grimaced A LOT.
3. Speaking of the bus, I twice saw it drive right past me as I was walking to the stop. I tried power walking, but stopped because I would get out of breath. I'll catch the next one.
4. I hate the bus, but I did see some interesting people. Always do.
5. I always got really strange looks when hobbling to class. People gave me this what-is-this-girl's-problem look.
6. Lastly, I am really proud of the race. It was a great experience, and I don't think I could have done any better. I sure am glad that the pain is gone, though. I'm hoping it will be better the next time around. :)
Monday, January 16, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Disney Marathon RR and the Reset Button
My watch alarm beeps at 3:30 am January 8th, and my eyes snap open. It's here. Today is the day I run to my goal or walk to shame. I hastily pull on my running shorts, tank top, and my new highlighter and green Saucony Kinvaras. My whole body was shaking with nerves and lack of sleep as I swallowed a banana and piece of bread. I grabbed my GU's and my race bib (which beared my name) and headed out the door.
I got to Epcot around 4:15, and I took in the scenery in the parking lot. The place was crowded with runners of all shapes and sizes, some wearing sleek singlets, others in goofy hats and tutus. Many were standing in groups and laughing, some swinging their legs and discussing race strategies. I followed the signs that led to the start, and immediately met a stream of runners walking slowly on the sidewalk, like cattle headed to the slaughterhouse.
My doubts fought with the optimism in my head the whole way to the corrals. I didn't run a single step before the race, in fear of feeling that pain in my hamstring that kept me from successfully tapering. I thought of how long it would take me to walk, how disappointed I would feel if I did, and feared that I would do damage that would take months to heal. No, I thought to myself, stop it. Just go out and do your best. You worked so hard for this, don't blow it!
I bobbed and weaved to the "A" corral. I began a series of lunges to warm up, and after a while I noticed that a camera man was recording it. Wonder where that video ended up. I shook my legs and listened to the pre-race announcements. "Party Rock" by LMFAO came on, and I began to dance. I really hate that song, but at 5:25 am right before I was about to run a marathon, it actually pumped me up. Before I knew it, Mickey counted down 3...2...1.. , and fireworks shot up from the start banner, along with a row of flames. The wheelchair division was off. The A corral moved up to replace them, as as we did, that is where I finally let my preoccupations go. I was ready to race. Mickey once again counted down, and even more fireworks lit up the sky. I began my journey through the cool morning air with a smile on my face and in my heart. My first few steps were painless. I smiled even wider. Let's race!
I could see the bobbing 3:15 pace group sign in front of me. It called out my name, begging me to run with them. No, I told myself. Just keep them in view. Well, so much for that. Before I knew it, I was right behind the guy holding the sign, watching his hair bounce up and down with each step. I stuck with them all the way through mile 16. That was okay, though, because my goal was 3:20, even though I was training for 7:30 pace. I saw lots of waving Disney characters along the way, the ones I can remember included Snow White, Chip and Dale, Captain Hook and Smee, Goofy, Mickey and Minnie, and Jack and Pocahontas. I felt ridiculous waving back to them, but there was something about it that made me feel better. I also danced to the YMCA somewhere around mile 18 and made a drumming motion to some fat drummer guys in Animal Kingdom. I was doing anything to keep my spirits high. The going got really tough a bit after mile 20.
At mile 22 we made the turn for Epcot, with a video screen of us running and an announcer asking us to tell him where we were from. Unable to talk, I just Gator chomped. "We've got a Gator in the house! I'm from Gainesville too! Go Gators!" The announcer boomed. I was temporarily excited, but then my attention returned to my labored breathing and aching quads. The interior quads screamed and begged for mercy, and my ankles wanted no more pounding. My form was solid, but deteriorating. I walked for the first time through a water station around mile 23. My face was contorted in a tight grimace. As I walked by, a volunteer said to me "It's alright Kacy, honey, you've made it much further that I ever would have." I should have thanked her, but in the delirium of my fatigue, I just nodded. I walked though all of the remaining aid stations except for the last one. I was in so much pain, and I wanted desperately to stop running. I was shuffling along Epcot, with people telling me that I was almost there. All I could think about was "WHERE IN THE HELL IS THE FINISH LINE????" I peered across the water, browsing for any sign of the finish. The grimace was still stuck on my face as I dragged my body through the finishing shoot. Some girl sprinted by me at the end, by I didn't care (as far as I'm concerned, she must not have ran fast enough during the race if she could still sprint, haha) I was filled with elation and joy, but also pain and complete exhaustion. It took everything I had to finish the race. 3:23:25.
Just because I stopped running didn't make the pain go away. I waddled through the shoot to get my medal and picture in front of a Disney themed background. I grabbed a banana and 2 Clif bars and meandered to the runner reunion area. "Don't sit down, don't sit down, don't..." I couldn't help it. I sat down on my space blanket in the middle of the parking lot. Turns out sitting hurts too. Ouch, ouch, and more ouch. It took me a solid 3 hours to realize: I did it! I finished, and without a word from my hamstring!
The toughest thing though, is knowing that everything I have done over the past 6 months: the 18 mile runs, 10 mile tempo, 60 mile weeks, doubles, the half marathon, has led to this day, and now it's over. I had been waiting and worrying for the race for a month, and it was over. Now it's time to hit the reset button. I have to re-evaluate my goals, make new ones, and recover. I've been on marathon mode for way too long. Now is the time for something new--once I'm able to walk--not waddle.
I got to Epcot around 4:15, and I took in the scenery in the parking lot. The place was crowded with runners of all shapes and sizes, some wearing sleek singlets, others in goofy hats and tutus. Many were standing in groups and laughing, some swinging their legs and discussing race strategies. I followed the signs that led to the start, and immediately met a stream of runners walking slowly on the sidewalk, like cattle headed to the slaughterhouse.
My doubts fought with the optimism in my head the whole way to the corrals. I didn't run a single step before the race, in fear of feeling that pain in my hamstring that kept me from successfully tapering. I thought of how long it would take me to walk, how disappointed I would feel if I did, and feared that I would do damage that would take months to heal. No, I thought to myself, stop it. Just go out and do your best. You worked so hard for this, don't blow it!
I bobbed and weaved to the "A" corral. I began a series of lunges to warm up, and after a while I noticed that a camera man was recording it. Wonder where that video ended up. I shook my legs and listened to the pre-race announcements. "Party Rock" by LMFAO came on, and I began to dance. I really hate that song, but at 5:25 am right before I was about to run a marathon, it actually pumped me up. Before I knew it, Mickey counted down 3...2...1.. , and fireworks shot up from the start banner, along with a row of flames. The wheelchair division was off. The A corral moved up to replace them, as as we did, that is where I finally let my preoccupations go. I was ready to race. Mickey once again counted down, and even more fireworks lit up the sky. I began my journey through the cool morning air with a smile on my face and in my heart. My first few steps were painless. I smiled even wider. Let's race!
I could see the bobbing 3:15 pace group sign in front of me. It called out my name, begging me to run with them. No, I told myself. Just keep them in view. Well, so much for that. Before I knew it, I was right behind the guy holding the sign, watching his hair bounce up and down with each step. I stuck with them all the way through mile 16. That was okay, though, because my goal was 3:20, even though I was training for 7:30 pace. I saw lots of waving Disney characters along the way, the ones I can remember included Snow White, Chip and Dale, Captain Hook and Smee, Goofy, Mickey and Minnie, and Jack and Pocahontas. I felt ridiculous waving back to them, but there was something about it that made me feel better. I also danced to the YMCA somewhere around mile 18 and made a drumming motion to some fat drummer guys in Animal Kingdom. I was doing anything to keep my spirits high. The going got really tough a bit after mile 20.
At mile 22 we made the turn for Epcot, with a video screen of us running and an announcer asking us to tell him where we were from. Unable to talk, I just Gator chomped. "We've got a Gator in the house! I'm from Gainesville too! Go Gators!" The announcer boomed. I was temporarily excited, but then my attention returned to my labored breathing and aching quads. The interior quads screamed and begged for mercy, and my ankles wanted no more pounding. My form was solid, but deteriorating. I walked for the first time through a water station around mile 23. My face was contorted in a tight grimace. As I walked by, a volunteer said to me "It's alright Kacy, honey, you've made it much further that I ever would have." I should have thanked her, but in the delirium of my fatigue, I just nodded. I walked though all of the remaining aid stations except for the last one. I was in so much pain, and I wanted desperately to stop running. I was shuffling along Epcot, with people telling me that I was almost there. All I could think about was "WHERE IN THE HELL IS THE FINISH LINE????" I peered across the water, browsing for any sign of the finish. The grimace was still stuck on my face as I dragged my body through the finishing shoot. Some girl sprinted by me at the end, by I didn't care (as far as I'm concerned, she must not have ran fast enough during the race if she could still sprint, haha) I was filled with elation and joy, but also pain and complete exhaustion. It took everything I had to finish the race. 3:23:25.
Just because I stopped running didn't make the pain go away. I waddled through the shoot to get my medal and picture in front of a Disney themed background. I grabbed a banana and 2 Clif bars and meandered to the runner reunion area. "Don't sit down, don't sit down, don't..." I couldn't help it. I sat down on my space blanket in the middle of the parking lot. Turns out sitting hurts too. Ouch, ouch, and more ouch. It took me a solid 3 hours to realize: I did it! I finished, and without a word from my hamstring!
The toughest thing though, is knowing that everything I have done over the past 6 months: the 18 mile runs, 10 mile tempo, 60 mile weeks, doubles, the half marathon, has led to this day, and now it's over. I had been waiting and worrying for the race for a month, and it was over. Now it's time to hit the reset button. I have to re-evaluate my goals, make new ones, and recover. I've been on marathon mode for way too long. Now is the time for something new--once I'm able to walk--not waddle.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Marathon
When I tell people that I'm a runner, this is usually how the conversation goes:
Me: Yeah, I run a lot. It's definitely my favorite thing to do.
Them: Oh, so you like, run marathons and stuff?
Me: Well, no...I've run 5 halfs. And I do lots of 5Ks.
People toss around the word "marathon" like it's the normal race for people who run. Even my parents get confused and call my half marathons marathons. In case anyone was wondering, 26.2 miles is really, really far, and it takes someone special to be able to run it; trained or not. Hopefully after this weekend, I can say yes, I do run marathons. In fact, I may even call myself a "marathoner" for a few weeks.
However, I'm definitely not going into this race as I had planned. I've barely run at all the past month due to a hamstring injury. I went from being in the best shape of my life to hobbling into the pool for long swims. Talk about a disappointment. Immediately upon my injury, I was angry and considered all of my hard work and 2:30+ runs a waste of time. But then I realized that I was forgetting something. I have run 3 PR's in a span of 2 months and have ran faster than I ever thought was possible. Marathon training has showed me a glimmer of my potential, and now I'm hungry for more. I feel strong, confident, and happy during every run. Quite the improvement from my race-quitting high school days.
Anyway, I'm no longer in pain, but now I find myself cast with a shadow of doubt. I've ran my standard mid-distance route twice this week, and while my pace was comparable to my pre-injury runs, my legs are definitely not as strong as they were. It feels almost as if I've forgotten how to run. I was somewhat sore the day after my first run of 5 miles on Monday...how am I going to feel after running 26.2??
This race is going to be a real test of my mental strength. When the going gets tough, am I going to be able to push through it? What if the injury comes back? What if I can't find a porta potty before the race starts? (okay, that last one has been a fear of mine ever since I started training for this thing) I knew that the marathon was going to be my biggest challenge yet, but this hammy has added a new twist to the plot. I find myself in a sea of worry, and I'm starting to feel seasick.
It kills me to know that I probably won't nail the time that I know I was capable of four weeks ago. However, that won't stop me from trying. I saw my doctor once this thing flared up, and he suggested that I try to walk-run it. Pfft. I didn't pay $160 and run my legs off to putz around Disneyland at 5:45 am Jan. 8th. If it comes down to that, I definitely want to finish. I never want a DNF next to my name, unless I lost a limb along the way.
Right now, I'm just trying to remind myself that sometimes greatness can be found in the most unexpected of places. I'm trying to believe that this race can still go well, even though all of the signs point the other way. Successful or not, I think it will be a great experience for me. After all, isn't it illegal to sulk in the happiest place on earth?
Me: Yeah, I run a lot. It's definitely my favorite thing to do.
Them: Oh, so you like, run marathons and stuff?
Me: Well, no...I've run 5 halfs. And I do lots of 5Ks.
People toss around the word "marathon" like it's the normal race for people who run. Even my parents get confused and call my half marathons marathons. In case anyone was wondering, 26.2 miles is really, really far, and it takes someone special to be able to run it; trained or not. Hopefully after this weekend, I can say yes, I do run marathons. In fact, I may even call myself a "marathoner" for a few weeks.
However, I'm definitely not going into this race as I had planned. I've barely run at all the past month due to a hamstring injury. I went from being in the best shape of my life to hobbling into the pool for long swims. Talk about a disappointment. Immediately upon my injury, I was angry and considered all of my hard work and 2:30+ runs a waste of time. But then I realized that I was forgetting something. I have run 3 PR's in a span of 2 months and have ran faster than I ever thought was possible. Marathon training has showed me a glimmer of my potential, and now I'm hungry for more. I feel strong, confident, and happy during every run. Quite the improvement from my race-quitting high school days.
Anyway, I'm no longer in pain, but now I find myself cast with a shadow of doubt. I've ran my standard mid-distance route twice this week, and while my pace was comparable to my pre-injury runs, my legs are definitely not as strong as they were. It feels almost as if I've forgotten how to run. I was somewhat sore the day after my first run of 5 miles on Monday...how am I going to feel after running 26.2??
This race is going to be a real test of my mental strength. When the going gets tough, am I going to be able to push through it? What if the injury comes back? What if I can't find a porta potty before the race starts? (okay, that last one has been a fear of mine ever since I started training for this thing) I knew that the marathon was going to be my biggest challenge yet, but this hammy has added a new twist to the plot. I find myself in a sea of worry, and I'm starting to feel seasick.
It kills me to know that I probably won't nail the time that I know I was capable of four weeks ago. However, that won't stop me from trying. I saw my doctor once this thing flared up, and he suggested that I try to walk-run it. Pfft. I didn't pay $160 and run my legs off to putz around Disneyland at 5:45 am Jan. 8th. If it comes down to that, I definitely want to finish. I never want a DNF next to my name, unless I lost a limb along the way.
Right now, I'm just trying to remind myself that sometimes greatness can be found in the most unexpected of places. I'm trying to believe that this race can still go well, even though all of the signs point the other way. Successful or not, I think it will be a great experience for me. After all, isn't it illegal to sulk in the happiest place on earth?
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