Hello 2013!

2012 turned out to be a pretty good running year!  My blogging skills have been abysmal, but I made real strides towards accomplishing my goals.  Yay!

The big things:

I lost 22 pounds!  I was aiming for 30, but I'm happy with 22.  I'm down 2 dress sizes.  How can I complain about that?

I PR'd in a Half Marathon.  I took a whopping minute off my best Half time.  Hey it's still a PR!

I PR'd BIG TIME on my marathon time!  I took 1h 6 min off my NYC Marathon 2011 time, and PR'd for a marathon by 24 minutes!  Of course I had planned to run NYC in 2012 but that didn't happen thanks to Sandy.  I ran Harrisburg PA instead.  My goal was to finish in under 5 hours, and I made it by 19 seconds.  Whew!  I wold have been crushed if I had missed that goal by just a few seconds.

Some big news of 2012 is that I was selected to be on the Dr. Oz Show (airing today, repeating tomorrow).  I followed the "Shred Revolutionary Diet" for 6 weeks, documenting my progress, and then taped the show with 5 other ladies who had done the same thing.  The diet worked just fine, but the Dr. Oz experience was really lacking.  I'll write about that tomorrow.

I just had to get those 2012 items out of the way so I feel like I can start again tomorrow with a blogging plan.

I have a great feeling about 2013 - it's going to be a great year.  For fitness and fun!

I hope you'll join me on the journey along My Pink Miles!

See you tomorrow...

13.1 Shades of...

...Death.

Last weekend I ran the Shades of Death Half Marathon here in New Jersey.  Compared to all other distance races I've run, it was pretty small, just a few hundred people.

But it was awesome!

It was actually run on my local training routes - I run Shades of Death Road all the time.  So it was really nice to race on the roads I know so well.  It was very rural, run through farms and fields and beautiful country roads of Northern New Jersey.  There were very few human spectators, but lots of the furry kind!

My favorite human ones were two senior ladies standing on a corner.  They were there by themselves, and I was the only runner around.  They clapped and waved and I waved back.  They were great!

The furry fans were the best.  I passed a field with a couple of horses - they had their heads over the fence, standing together, watching the runners go by.  Across the street was a small field full of goats, merrily chomping on piles of hay.

A little further down the road there was a dog in a driveway.  It just stood there and watched us go by, with the occasional bark at a runner.

A couple of miles on, there were the dairy farms.  Black and white cows grazing in their pastures.  At this point I choked back a tri-berry GU, followed by a swig of Gatorade.  Which went really well with the fragrance of cow poo.  But I loved it!

As it was a two loop course, I got to run past these sights twice.  On my last loop, with about a mile to go, I passed an open field that suddenly filled with about a dozen horses mounted by red- and black- coated riders accompanied by a pack of hounds - on a fox hunt, I presume.  They came up on the road beside me, and for a quarter of a mile I ran next to horses and hounds.  It was so great!

My goal was to run strong, but not flat out.  New York City was just 3 weeks away, and I wasn't chancing any injuries.  But I finished with a PR!  My fastest half yet!  2:20:18.

The best part?  I got to kiss this guy at the end!

New York, New York

I've been in a little bit of a funk these last few days with my exercising.  I've been lacking motivation - I just want to lay in bed when the early alarm goes off.  I don't want to run or exercise.

The mind is a fickle thing.  How is that one day you are are raring to go and the next you could care less?

I skipped my Tuesday run this week - I just couldn't for the life of me get out of bed.  I ran 3 miles of hills yesterday, dragging my sorry rear up and down the inclines, including Hilda.  Today I woke up at 5:30am without the alarm and after 30 minutes of trying to talk myself out of getting up, I finally rolled out of bed.

I sleepily put on my running skirt and shoes and headed out the door, with my playlist set to shuffle.

The second song made my heart and mind wake up.

Frank Sinatra and his famous New York New York.

Verrazano Bridge, the start of the NYC Marathon

I remembered why I have to run 4 miles today.  I'm running the New York City Marathon in 115 days!

All of a sudden, I had a spring in my step and a smile on my face!  I felt lighter and much happier. And most importantly, happier running.

I don't know why my mind does this to me.  I know it happens to everyone, this lack of motivation. My goal seems far away - 115 days - but it's not that far away at all.  That's the thing with marathon training - it takes time!  I can't just wake up and run a marathon.  It takes days and days of miles and miles.  It's easy to lose track of the goal when you are weeks away from the race.  But you need to keep building your endurance and strength.

Frank made me realize that this morning.  That I'll have good days and bad, but as long as I keep hitting the pavement, my goal will be reached.

It really is all about putting one foot in front of the other.
On my pink miles!

Run Up and Down. Repeat 7 times. Then go see Hilda.

3 months post op and I am finally feeling normal again.  And that means training again!  The New York City Marathon is just 4 months away, and I'm getting my rear end in gear.

I'm back to running 4-5 days a week, and I'm also running hills again.  Hill repeats had always intimidated me.  When I read about other mother runners running them, I always thought that hills were for real runners, not me.

Well, hello, I'm a real runner! And hill repeats are now one of my favorite things.

Except for Hilda.

I have a hill route that I run - it's just up and down my rural country road.  I run three miles - three different hills.  Two hills I run twice and one I run three times.

And then there's Hilda.

There is this hill right before my driveway. For lack of imagination, I've named her Hilda.

 OK so that looks pretty pathetic.  Hilda doesn't look bad at all!  

But pictures just aren't conveying the feeling I get 

when I stand at the bottom and look up.

And then she continues around the corner, and heads upward some more.

She's not an exceptionally long hill.  Or steep hill.  But I have a fear of Hilda.

I don't know what it is.  I've avoided running up her for the last 2.5 years.  She is certainly steeper than what I normally run.  But there is no reason why I can't just crank on up the slope.

So I did just that this morning.  I said to myself - get your rear end up that hill.  Is Hilda stronger than you?  No, Ma'am, she is not.  I ran up the Queensboro Bridge in the NYC Marathon last year for crying out loud! I'm going to let a little hill defeat me?

So up I went.

I almost made it to the top without collapsing.  My Garmin beeped 3 miles (Done!) before I reached the top.  How's that for a lame excuse to quit Hilda?

But she's not going anywhere.  Hilda will still be there next week.  And the week after that.  And the marathon after that.  I'll be racing up Hilda before I know it.

And the good thing is that my driveway is right at the top of Hilda.  So I can just collapse on my own turf when I'm done with her.

Starting to Feel Human Again

4 weeks post op and I'm starting to feel a little more human again. 

 

picture from http://runningtshirtsonline.spreadshirt.com/evolution-of-woman-women-s-running-t-shirt-A6417496

Thank goodness. 

I was starting to have some trouble with my pathetic self.

My recovery from this horrible but necessary surgery has been problematic, to say the least.  I had to have another urgent trip to the doctor on Monday as my bladder hasn't been working quite right.  The doctor thinks that it is having some trouble getting accustomed to it's new internal pressure.  It's going to take some time to get used to its new and improved function.  So in the meantime, I'm on another medication and have to go back for some tests in a week and a half.  Hopefully everything will be normal.  And the medication is starting to work, relieving the pain and spasms I was having.  Again, thank goodness. 

It's been difficult not getting depressed. I'm usually so active and always training for something.  Always having a goal or a project to work on.  I set myself some goals to work on during my recovery - mostly writing related - but in all honesty I've been in such a fog the last four weeks that I haven't been able to think straight. 

And not being able to really exercise has been very hard.  Running would always clear my head.  I'd start off grumpy, angry, whatever, and come home 4 or 5 miles later refreshed and renewed.  I'm up to walking two miles a day now which is certainly helping.  But it's nothing like pounding the pavement.

But then yesterday I got some news that has put a real spring in my step!

I'm in for 2012!  As in the New York City Marathon...again!  I got in the lottery last year, and thought I'd enter again this year. 

I figured that my chances were slim to zero for this year.

But somehow, I made it in again!  I am beyond excited!  November 4th is 199 days away, but now I feel like I have a goal again.  If my first few weeks of training are just walking, well so be it, but I'm still training.

The New York City Marathon is such an incredible experience.  Running those streets last year was a day unlike any other. 

And this year, it's going to be even better.  I can feel it. 

I'm getting my body healthier. 
All my bits and pieces have been put back where they belong. 
I'm losing weight. 
I'm eating a lot more spinach.

And at last my mind and body are starting to resurface from the last four weeks of drug induced lethargy and self induced pathetic-ness.

4 more weeks of recovery restrictions and then...

Look out New York, here I come!  Again!

The New York City Marathon. And My Faith in Human Nature.

"If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon."  True words spoken by the famous Kathrine Switzer, a woman who made marathon running possible for all women.

Another way of restoring your faith in human nature? Going out and running a marathon.

On November 6, 2011, I ran the New York City Marathon.  I've watched coverage of the race numerous times, always in awe of the pure athleticism and determination of the elite runners.  Years ago, I thought to myself, one day I'd like to run that.  And my opportunity came this year with a lucky draw in the lottery. 

I knew that I'd run/walk it slowly.  And I was slow, finishing in 6:06.
I knew that it would really start to hurt around mile 20 or so.  And it sure did.
I knew that I would be excited, terrified, nervous, happy, overwhelmed, exhausted, all at the same time.  And I was.

I had heard that the New York spectators were incredible in their cheers and support of all the runners.  And they were. 

It was the spectators that made this one of the most amazing days of my life.

I could write about how I felt physically, mile by mile. 
I could write about the pain in my knees.
I could write about the challenge of running those famous New York City Bridges.

But instead I'll write about how the cheering made me cry tears of happiness, and run in almost disbelief, that these thousands and thousands and thousands of people were cheering for me.  Me, an accidental runner, a bit overweight, slow, but a New York City Marathoner, nonetheless.

Before the race, I put my name in big letters on my chest - I'd heard that a lot of runners do that so people cheer for them by name.  So I started across the Verrazano with "DEB" written for all the world to see.

Coming into Brooklyn, before the crowds were numerous, I heard my name for the first time.  "Hey Deb," shouted a man, "where're ya from?"  "New Jersey!" I shouted back, only to hear laughter and kind of a "shucks!" response.  I think he was hoping for a more exotic locale, rather than across the Hudson.

A little further on, a man leaned out and shouted "I love you, Deb!"  I told him I loved him too!

Then the crowds started to get thick.  Everyone cheering and clapping.  Groups of people - men, women, children - were shouting and chanting my name. "Deb! Deb! Deb!"

I highfived every child I could.  Little kids in their dad's arms.  Big kids with smiles on their faces.

I highfived little old ladies in wheelchairs.

I heard my name everywhere. "Go Deb! Go Deb!"

I started to cry.  All these people were cheering for me!  They had no clue who I was, where I was from, but I was a runner, and had 20 miles in front of me. And they cheered me on!

Outside churches, stores and homes, there were bands and choirs, playing music and singing.
People were tailgaiting, cooking burgers on the side of the road. And they cheered us all on!

At one point in Brooklyn, the street really narrowed and the energy became more condensed.  On one side of the street was a group of young men who seemed to be enjoying a party.  From their balcony they chanted in unison "Deb! Deb! Deb!"  Beleive me, it's been a while since this 40-something-muffin-top-mom-of-three had a group of young men chanting my name.  If ever!

Down the block, on the other side of the street, were three nuns, in their habits, also cheering my name.

Now where else but in New York can that happen?

I gave up listening to my music a few miles into the race, because I couldn't hear it over the noise of the crowds.  Their supportive cheers were far better than anything Lady Gaga could belt out that morning!

On 1st Ave in Manhattan, the crowds were also thick.  There was a man holding up a sign reading "Free Hugs!"  So of course I gave him a hug!  I wonder how many sweaty stinky runners he hugged that day?

I stopped to take a picture of two ladies chanting my name.  They loved it!

Then next to them, another group of ladies starting chanting "Deb!" even louder, so I stopped to take their picture too!

 

The crowds got a little thinner along 1st Ave, but still people cheered me on. 

A single lady standing alone, "Keep going Deb!"

A dad with his son, "Looking good Deb!"

A family standing together, "Way to go Deb!"

A race official, "Looking pretty in pink Deb!"

It went on, and on, and on.

The bands, the drums, the dancers, they went on and on for miles.

Entering Central Park, I saw my family.  My three boys and husband waiting for me - now the cheers changed from "Deb! Deb! Deb!" to "Mom! Mom! Mom!"  They hugged me, kissed me, encouraged me, and sent me on to battle the last 2 miles.

 

Coming up Central Park South, cheers of "Deb!" were all around me.  I was exhausted, but their voices propelled me on.  Then there was one woman, standing by herself.  She shouted to me "Hey Deb!  I saw you in Brooklyn!" 

From there, I cried all the way to the end of my 26.2 mile run.  Tears of happines, exhaustion, accomplishment.  I finished and got my medal.

 

I've had some time to reflect on that incredible day, and I keep going back to that quote from Kathrine Switzer. 

Faith in human nature.

We are bombarded every day with news of war, death, famine, poverty, violence, a shattered economy, nasty politics, bullying, hatred, greed, tragedy. And the list goes on.

But for that one day in New York, we were all together on those streets of the five boroughs.  It didn't matter what color people were, how rich or poor they were, what neighborhood they were from, what religion they were, what political affiliation they had.  They were there together, standing shoulder to shoulder, cheering me on, cheering all 47,000 runners on.  The fast runners, the slow runners, the thin runners and those not quite so!  The runners from around the world, from 100 different nations.  All different colors and creeds. 

We were all there together to accomplish one of two things.  Finish the marathon, or cheer those running on to the finish.

Thank you to each and every spectator.  To all those who cheered my name.  Who gave me highfives. Who smiled and waved.

You are the reason I ran that day.  And you lifted my heart, and my exhausted legs, to a place never before experienced.  You made me remember that no matter what, we are all human, capable of great strength, determination, and most importantly, kindness.

Thank you New York.  From the bottom of my grateful heart.