Marathon- Part DOS

I've kept you on the edge of your seat with the anticiaption of part 2, haven't I? Well, I can't say that the reason I have taken 2 weeks to write is because I have been staying healthy, in shape, and maintaining my running lifestyle. Quite literally, I have done the opposite: the fat, happy, glutenous slob lifestyle has taken over. So my only excuse for not writing is, well, I am lazy.

So where did I leave off? Oh yes: Mile 10 made me realize I was on a suicide mission. I just got tired, that's really the only way to explain it. My mind was all "You can do this, you can! Keep going!" but my body was all "Shoo gurl, I is tired, enough wit dis runnin' sh*t." I have never been one to complain about the hills of Memphis because, well, there aren't any. But as I came up to the 1% incline on Poplar just before LeBonheur Children's Hospital, I swear to you, I was either delirious or the road ACTUALLY morphed into a 15,000 foot tall volcano of death. I know Memphis is not known for volcanoes, but I swear to you, I am not making this up. I just put my head down, distracted myself with a GU gel, and tried to think of something else... like elephants, my favorite childhood outfit, and my future/non-existent wedding day- anything that randomly flew into my head and distracted me from the lava surrounding me as I plowed up the volcano on Poplar Ave in Downtown Memphis. Add it to your list of tourist attractions the next time you come visit.

Once I made it past the volcano, I began to feel a little better. Then the 1/2 marathon group slipt off. As I approached the giant flashing lights saying " <---- FULL MARATHON, HALF MARATHON ---> " I kinda felt all badass and super-hero, like "Yea, that's right, I am going left, what of it? Ain't no thang, just runnin' a marathon!" I felt like I was the center of attention of the entire world at that moment, making the (insane) decision to go left, to pass the point of no return. That whole super-hero feeling lasted about, oh, I'd say 23 seconds- until I realized that the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of runners AND the streets lined with spectators were a thing of the past. Cue western theme music and tumbleweeds. Again, maybe I was delirious or hidden speakers ACTUALLY started playing Celien Dion's "All By Myself", I don't know. I am beyond the point of trying to decipher what actually did happen during the race and what was a byproduct of my running-induced psychotic break that began around mile 10.

Miles 12-15 were so... effing... boring. Literally in the Memphis ghetto, not a spectator in sight, maybe 4 runners ahead of and behind me within eyesight... I'm not gonna lie, it sucked ass. Luckily, I had my killer music to keep me going. I had a little dance party in my head, and that kept me from crying of loneliness.

How was I feeling? My ankles were fine, oddly enough. My right knee/IT band was in pain. My lips were so chapped. It was starting to get pretty hot out. I was slowing down a bit, but I was still at about a 12 minute pace.

At mile 16 I saw Kevin and Maureen. All I could say was "My lips hurt real bad, I need chapstick." Those are the only words that I could form into a sentence that would make sense. But, again, seeing them made my heart fill with doodles of butterflies and hearts and flowers, which carried me 1 more mile until I saw Eszter and got another photo shoot.

At mile 17.5, I think I met Jesus. There was a bartender from the Slider Inn standing on the corner handing out cups of beer. I literally stopped running, stood in front of him, and asked, "Is that beer?" "You betcha! Want one?" "Will you marry me?" I took the beer, pounded it, threw the cup, screamed, and moved on. Yes. That's right. I drank a beer at mile 17. HOW BADASS AM I?!

When I got to mile 18, I was all "Wow, hey, check this out, from here on out, every single step I take is the farthest I have ever run!" That was cool and all, and I basked in that glory for a good 5 minutes, but I could feel myself quickly approaching THE WALL. Oh dear, the wall. That lovely mythical running nightmare. Well, let me tell you, my friends, IT AINT NO MYTH. Literally, one minute I was feeling like 7 more miles was totally doable, and the next minute I was getting ready to call a cab and ask him to bring an axe to cut my legs off. Instead, I called Omar for a pep-talk. That was much more productive.

It was hot as balls now. The sun was frying me- who things to put on sunblock for a race in friggin' December?! Not this girl. Bring on the farmer's tan. I started taking 2 cups at each water station- 1 to drink, and 1 to throw over my head and face like a sexy super model. I actually pictured myself in slow motion as I did it, shaking my head from side to side, looking all sensual... again, psychotic delusions running rampant, cuz lord knows I was the furthest thing from a Playboy model at that point.

I saw the cheerleaders at mile 20.5ish, and this picture says it all, I don't even need to explain:

I think I may have actually been telling Kevin to find a crossbow and put me out of my misery, not sure. Ask him.

OK that is all you get for now. Bye!

I ran an effing marathon- PART 1

I bet you've been checking my blog every 48 minutes, on the edge of your seat, just waiting for me to tell you all about THAT TIME I RAN A MARATHON! Well, alas, my friends... the time has come!

There is so much to share, so I am going to do it little by little as to not overload and post a 8173757 paragraph entry, which I am famous for, seeing as how I never know when to shut up.

OK, so let's start with the obvious... I FINISHED! You bet your sweet ass I crossed that finish line, screaming my face off, practically doing cartwheels. So there, now that I ruined the surprise (oh, while I'm at it with ruining surprises: Santa doesn't exist, and Dumbledore dies), let's talk about just how I managed to cover 26.2 miles. By foot. Without cheating.

Last week, I was a mess. I mean it. I don't know how I didn't chase away every friend, coworker, family member, and grocery store attendant I encountered... I think I even freaked out the homeless people begging me for money. "Money?! MONEY?! I'm running a marathon in 2 days! Don't ask me for MONEY!" So, to those of you that were unfortunate enough to cross my path last week, my apologies, and thank you for still wanting to be my friend.

I spent the entire week being as sedentary as possible. I didn't do any sort of physical activity that might further impede my (already minimal) chances of running the marathon. I did everything short of wrap myself in bubble wrap and wear a surgical mask. I wore my running shoes every day to keep my ankles happy. I wore KT tape 24/7. I iced, rolled, stretched, and rested the F*CK outta myself.

My neck slowly recovered after 3 adjustments at the chiropractor. Ok, go ahead, insert your comment about how the chiropractor is a quack and blah blah blah WHATEVER. After 2 sessions, I could finally look to the left without pain, and was no longer a spitting image of Zoolander as an ambi-turner. So say what you will, but the man fixed me, and I am forever grateful.

Somehow I made it to race day without a complete mental breakdown. I woke up (after a lovely 3 hours of nervous sleep) on Saturday morning, put on Journey as loud as it would go, and chugged a gallon of water. I somehow made it to the start line (wearing a pair of maroon Goodwill velour pants to keep warm), managed to make it to the port-a-potty and squirt out 3 nervous-pre-race-peeing sessions, and then found my way to my corral. I think the start gun actually went off while I was peeing, but I was so far back in the caboose, I had a good 20 minutes before I started running.

Hey, feet! You ready for this hell? No? Oh, well, too bad, cuz here we go...

Ok. Now. Let's run.

I saw my cheering posse at mile 1.5, and that was a great way to start the race. I was genuinely still happy at that point, all smiles and hugs and "Isn't this awesome!?! Look at me go! Yay marathons!" So that was cool.

One of the trainers from Cant Stop Endurance gave a great tip at one of the pre-race meetings about not pulling out the emotion and reasons and motivation for the race too early. Instead, "put it all in an envelope, tuck it away, and pull it out when you are at the point where you don't think you can take one more step." So I did that. I let my mind think about silly things like the guy with the really hairy back in front of me, or why there is ALWAYS a banana running the race, or how they managed to make Beale St NOT smell like beer and prostitutes that morning... ya know, just random things that come to mind.

Then we ran through the St. Jude campus around mile 4. (Honestly, I think it was dumb for them to put such an emotional and inspirational thing at mile 4. Nobody is needing that type of motivation that early in the race. Save that for mile 19 when I want to rip my legs off and throw them into the oncoming traffic. But, fine, whatever, throw this emotional bomb at me at mile 4.) Hundreds of people lined the streets, all thanking us for our contributions. I turned off my shameless running music, and soaked in the experience. I was overcome with emotion, and the flood gates broke lose when I saw a little girl holding a poster: All it takes is all you've got. That's when I lost it. Sobbing. So proud that I could give these children hope. So touched by the strength these families have shown. Completely overwhelmed by the entire experience. There were posters in the hospital walls that simply said "thank you." It doesn't get any more genuine than that. Oh, yea, it's really hard to run when you're sobbing.

Ok, so, after that, I only had another 21 miles to go. No big deal, right?

My ankles? Holy sweet Jesus- they felt FINE! I was waiting for the pain to hit. Waiting for them to perk up and say, "What, you thought you could get through this without us acting up?! SUCKER!" Stupid attention-seeking bitches. Yea, I just called my ankles bitches.

I was doing a good job of keeping around an 11:30/12:00 pace. I had my watch on and spent a lot of time making sure I wasn't going too fast. I knew I was going to see my cheer squad again around mile 6 or 7, and I was so happy when I saw Maureen with her signs, Kevin with his bright blue Chelsea jersey, and Jeremy's 28 foot tall head towering over the crowd. I practically skipped over to the side of the road to say hello. Again, smiles were genuine and I was feeling great. Around mile 7.5 I saw Eszter, my wonderful paparazzi. I saw a few more people I knew as we went through Overton Park. Then Eszter again around mile 10, then cheer squad around mile 10.5... how awesome is that?! These people either really like me, or they were scared of the wrath of Amy if they DIDN'T cheer. Either way, whatever, I'll take what I can get. I think the excitement got to me a bit, because I picked up my pace. Not by much, but enough to ultimately kick me in the ass around mile 12...

And that's all you get for now. WHAT A TEASE!

Race day details so you can stalk me, and some final thoughts on this whole crazy situation...

My last post before the race! Why? Well, I am an emotional mess, and I want to spare you all from the complete meltdown that will be taking place over the next 4 days. You have been patient enough with my ramblings up to this point, and I think it is time I cut myself off from the emotional verbal diarrhea that is already itching to explode.

So first of all, I know you are heartbroken that you don't get to stand outside in the freezing cold for 6 hours to watch 4 seconds of me running by, am I right? It's ok, I understand you have better things to do with your Saturday morning.

But fear not! You can stalk me from the comfort of your own home!

For those of you that want to track my progress, you can sign up to get text messages that will alert you when I reach 7 points along the way. That way, you know I am still alive and kickin'. If you stop getting texts, you can know to send your condolences to my parents. (OK, that is not funny. Sorry. I won't die, don't worry, sheesh. Tough crowd.)

I may also see if this system can follow my progress to the Emergency Room (to alert you of my diagnoses of "temporary psychosis" and "completely broken lower extremities"), and then to the nearest bar (to track my drinking status of "one beer and she's down for the count").

So, here is the info on text message tracking (with my comments in purple):

"Beginning race morning (ass crack of dawn), the runner tracking system can be accessed on the marathon home page (<-- that's a link, so just click on it). Family and friends (that means you) can track runners (that's me, bib number 2833) as they cross mile marks 3.1, 6.2, 10,13.1, 18.6, 24 and the finish. The system will also provide an estimated finish time. Search for your favorite runners (again, that's me) once the race begins."

So, in a nutshell, for all of you that need the info presented in simple terms... you need to:
1) Wake up by 8am CST (9am for all my east-coast pals) on Saturday morning
2) Go to the marathon website
3) Sign up for runner tracking (IMPORTANT: my bib number is 2833)
4) Sit back with your feet up and a nice mimosa in hand
5) Make sure your phone isn't on silent, which will cause you to wonder why you haven't "heard" any updates, thus sending you into a complete panic thinking I didn't even survive the first 3 miles

You may ask, “Amy, what’s your plan? What’s your strategy for running 26.2 miles on 2 busted ankles and a jacked up neck, having not trained in 2 months? How are you possibly stupid enough to run this race in your current situation? Why are you a moron? Do you really think you are ready for this?”

Good questions. Thank you for your inquiries.

Let’s start with this: I openly acknowledge that 1) I should not be running this race, 2) I am a complete moron for attempting to run this race, and 3) there is a very, very good chance I will not finish this race.

So, now that we have THAT out of the way, let’s talk strategy.

I am going to put myself with the 5 hour 10 minute pace group. Eww. I will be using what is called the “Galloway Method”: running + walking. I will run/jog/travel for about 10 minutes, then walk for 2 minutes through each water station. Yea, this means I will be at a 12 minute pace- a long cry from my 9:30 pace I had set out to accomplish. Double eww.

My estimated start time is around 8:30am CST. So, to break it down a little (all times in CST):
Mile 5- 9:30am
Mile 10- 10:30am
Mile 15- 11:30am
Mile 20- 12:30pm
Mile 25- 1:30pm
Finish- 1:45pm

Now, to address your last question: Do you really think you are ready for this?

As my wise friend Lauren so eloquently stated, “Sometimes being ready means accepting that it might not happen like you planned.” And boy oh boy, is this completely opposite of what I had planned. I am ready to face the day with an open mind and (try to) not be upset with my performance. I am ready to do my best, but not push myself too far. I am ready to be proud, but also disappointed and upset. I am not as ready physically as I want to be (or should be), but I have to play the hand I have been dealt.

Last, but not least, I need to accept that none of this is my fault. Thank you, Carrie, for really shaking some sense into me: "It’s not your fault that you got injured, it’s not your fault that it won’t go EXACTLY as planned, and that does not change that you are still the most dedicated runner I know."

So, here it is, 56 hours (yea, that’s right, we are now counting down in HOURS) from the starting line. I want to thank all of you for not just your support over the past YEAR, but also your patience and guidance. I can’t believe that 1 year ago, things were so drastically different in my life. I am so grateful all that has happened over the past year, and regardless of what happens in this marathon, I am really proud of how far I have come. Though things didn’t really end up as I had hoped, I am still so happy to have found my passion for running. And no, this isn’t the end- not even close. There will be more races (more marathons, you bet your sweet ass!), and more of my nonsensical ramblings.

Well... I guess that’s all I have to say... so... here goes nothin’...

I am a walking disaster

It's like every force in the universe is trying to keep me from running completing this marathon.


My ankles hurt + my neck being all jacked up = When I walk, I look like quasimodo doing the robot... Imagine me running.


(I bet you have an amazing mental image of me right now, yea? Nice.)


It snowed last night. Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE cold weather running, and I am a sucker for some pretty snow. But put aforementioned 80's-dance-move hunchback on slippery grounds, and it's a recipe for disaster. I have heard the weather is supposed to clear up by Saturday, but that doesn't alleviate the fear of putting the most clumsy girl on earth on wet pavement for 26.2 miles.


Everyone around me is sick. Coughing, sneezing, hacking, snotting... Please stop engulfing me with your germs. I have been tempted to walk around and spray every person I encounter in the face with Lysol, but with all the ruckus lately about pepper-spraying at these stupid occupy events, I am scared I will give the wrong impression.


So, if all this crap could just STOP, and I could be healthy, un-hobbling, un-hunched, and have the sun shining on Saturday, that would be great. A damn miracle, but worth hoping for.

5 days...

I was driving down East Parkway yesterday and saw all of the signs saying "Marathon Route, Expect Delays, THIS SATURDAY".


Everything is so surreal. That is the only word that makes sense to me right now. Surreal. I can't believe the race is so soon...

What a pain in the neck... literally.

Yesterday morning, I woke up and my neck said, "Ya know what? I am sick of your ankles hogging all the attention here! I want to be in the spotlight! My turn!" And it them proceeded to completely throw itself outta whack and toss me into the most extreme pain. I am completely crippled-- I cant move my neck at all, and even the smallest movement sends shooting pain down my right leg and right arm. 


AWESOME!


Oh, and the best part: only 5 days till the race! DOUBLE AWESOME.


So, for the past 2 days, I have had to axe my ambitious "solo-holiday-to-do" list. Instead, I have been laid up on my couch trying to find a position that minimizes the shooting pain. I have been reduced to laying here miserably, watching awful romantic comedies on cable. FYI: the movie "27 Dresses" only makes the pain of throwing out your neck WORSE. 


I am going to find a chiropractor tomorrow and beg for an appointment ASAP. As if I am not worried about this marathon enough, ya know...?

Misery loves company

Since I can't run, I have been getting my running "fix" by reading endless running blogs. I am cruising through the top running blogs of 2011, and have found some really amazing reads.


The 2 things I noticed right off the bat (and that made me feel a little bit better about my current situation) are:
1) Lots of people get injured, even when doing everything right. Bones break. Tendons fail. Knees protest. I still strongly believe that our bodies aren't made to consistently run such incredibly long distances. There are people out there that can run 10 marathons a year and be perfectly healthy- those people are what I call "freaks." (Haha, just kidding. But, no, really, you are...) But the rest of us humans need to suffer the consequences of the insanity we subject our bodies to. I need to be patient.
2) Everyone has a bad race from time to time- not every race can be a PR or an amazing, happy experience. Disappointment is part of the game. Again, even if you do everything right, you are bound to have a race that you are ashamed to tell anyone about. But, you can't lose hope; while there are poor races that bring you down, there are also those races that make you feel like such an amazing bad ass, like you are an actual super hero and deserve a cape. 
...I know I am not the only one in the world that is hurt and facing a bad race, but hearing the stories of fellow runners that have been in my shoes definitely helps. 


I mentioned earlier that I am having a really hard time putting my feelings into words. And I still am. But, reading the experiences of others has helped...


I found a phrase (on this blog, discussing a bad race) that pretty much hits the nail on the head about how I have been feeling lately: "soul-crushing." (Man, am I a drama queen or what? People are dying of hunger, fighting cancer, and facing horrible struggles, and here I am bitching that I cant run 26 miles? Hello, selfish.)


Also, another blogger had an entry about a disappointing race, and this portion of her entry really made me realize a huge part of my sadness about the upcoming marathon: "... I think a huge part of it was that I felt like I was failing in front of a friend. If I go out and have a bad race when I'm running by myself, no one else knows. But in this race, I felt like my crappy failure of a run was on display for my friend to see, and failing in front of a crowd sucks so much more than failing when no one is watching." 


Wow. Yes. So true. 


Ok, here goes nothin'. I will be honest and admit 2 feelings I have had recently:
1) I am sad that I will be running the race alone. Don't get me wrong, I love a nice solo run more than anything in the world. But, when you train for a race with a group and go into training thinking you will be side-by-side with a friend mile after ungodly mile of the race, it is a bit heartbreaking to face the fact that you will, indeed, be left alone in the dust. I am proud of my friends for doing so well with their training, and I wish the best for them in this race, don't get me wrong! But... I am scared to run alone.
2) I feel like a failure, and I don't like that feeling being on display for those watching. I know my friends love me unconditionally, whether I run this race or not. But, nonetheless, failing while in the spotlight is really, really hard. Is it embarrassment that I am feeling? Maybe. I am so excited to have Maureen and Kevin watching- having them there will keep me going. But, at the same time, the thought of them seeing me fail brings tears to my eyes. I feel like a failure- I can't help it. No matter what anyone says, I can't shake this feeling.


Well, hello catharsis- there you are! Where have you been hiding?

A bit of sunshine in a dark, stormy, cloudy sky

A good metaphor to use during our current 3-day rain storm of gloom and fog.


Maureen and I just spent an hour planning her "cheering route" for the marathon. She (and Kevin) will be able to see me at 6 places along the way, which is amazing! Even though I am still scared out of my gourd about this race, I am so excited to have spectators along the way that my fear is (temporarily and superficially) smothered by happiness.


I am organizing and planning the events of the race weekend now because 1) I know I will be too psycho, panic-driven freak next week to hold a clear thought in my mind, and 2) it will (hopefully) help ease some of my pre-race jitters. So, while I have zero control over my current injury situation, I can at least have control over the color headband I will be wearing for my trip to the hospital after the race. 


Disclaimer: If you haven't caught on by now, I am using humor as a defense mechanism. I, in no way, will let myself get to the point of actually needing to go to the hospital. I use all of my "cross the finish line on a stretcher" jokes as a way of bringing humor to a situation that, quite frankly, totally sucks ass.

12 days...

I am getting really anxious about the marathon.


I went to a running clinic last week, and I was smacked across the face with two intense, yet opposite emotions: heart-beat-out-of-your-chest-excitement, and paralyze-you-and-make-you-want-to-vomit-FEAR.


I really wish I could explain everything that is running through my mind about this race, but it is impossible. So, I am not going to try.

Have $8 million you could lend me?

I was lucky enough to get to attend Pediatric Research Day today, sponsored by LeBonheur Children's Hospital. At that conference, I heard 2 presentations on research being done at St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. In these presentations, several case studies were reviewed, looking at how new technology is helping save the lives of children, as young as 2 or 3 years of age, with brain tumors. Listening to an actual brain surgeon talk about how he was able to save a child, keep them cancer free, and give them a wonderful quality of life was humbling. However, it is expensive to do such amazing things. One of the machines, an Intraoperative MRI, costs a staggering 8 MILLION DOLLARS. At the risk of sounding like a MasterCard commercial... saving a child's life: PRICELESS.


Today's conference really reinforced the impact the St. Jude Marathon will have on the help that can be offered to these children and families. The 2011 Marathon has already raised over 2.5 million dollars. As a St. Jude Hero, I can proudly say I contributed over $700 to that. Before my shoes are even tied, I can easily say that it will be a day that will forever live in my memory, and one of the greatest accomplishments I have ever achieved.


With your help, we can throw a few more dollars towards St. Jude and the tremendous things they are doing for people in need. Please, if you have not already, donate- even if it is $5, every little bit helps!


And once again, to all of you that have helped, an unconditional "thank you" is sent your way. It means so much to me that this day can be about more than just the race- it's about saving lives.