some things are better left unsaid

And unfortunately for all three of you, those are all the things I've got on my mind. It's late, and I've got to go run tomorrow with a big ol' mask on my face (more on this tomorrow). So I'll just show you some pretty shiny things and leave it at that.

I know you're not supposed to play favorites, and truthfully all my medals have their place on my wall of racing, but I do have a few favorites.

share and compare

I promise, I promise, I will stop talking about the marathon soon. Soon is not yet, however.  I was curious to see how my stats compared from this marathon versus the Colorado Marathon. As luck would have it, Garmin has a comparison widget.  You can click on the images to make them bigger if you actually want to look at the data.

God bless statistics.  While in no way shape or form do they demonstrate a dramatic improvement, they do show improvement.  I would also like to note that the first 14 miles of the Colorado Marathon were mostly downhill, while there was a 200 foot elevation climb in the first 4 miles of the Portland marathon. And I'm pretty proud of my miles 25 split in Portland. It's just nice to see that the improvement is consistent.

In other news, I finally managed to drag my ass out for a run today. It wasn't pretty, but it happened. Now I just need to figure out what I'm doing next.

portland marathon race recap

*Warning--this may be my longest blog post ever, but I wanted to get this down before I forgot some of it. If you've heard enough about the Portland Marathon from me, come back tomorrow.*  The race photos went up this morning, a bit ahead of schedule. But the quality is kind of horrible. However, I'm not purchasing them for the exorbitant fees they charge, even for the jpegs.  So they'll give you some brushstrokes, but probably not much else.

Pre-race
The race started at 7:00, so I woke up at 5, had some bread and chocolate almond butter, a cup of coffee. The forecast seemed to settle on an hour of rain/showers between 6-7, and just cloudy after that. It didn't start raining until about 8:00, and then it rained off and until about noon. So that was spot on, Weatherman! Thanks!  I opted for compression socks and a skirt, although after having seen the race photos I probably should have gone with capri tights or compression shorts. Green was a good choice for visibility, I think. I'm also glad I wore a hat because the rain/sweat dripped off it pretty continuously after about mile 8 or so.

Mr. Bump walked me to the starting line, which was about 12 blocks from our hotel, snapped a couple of photos and then wandered off to the starting line in hopes of seeing me there.  Luckily, he did.




Starting line - Mile 1 10:35.2



Mile 2 - 10:58.6/Mile 3 - 11:12:1
These first few miles start off a gradual uphill. You go through Portland's pretty Chinatown gate, down to the waterfront (where I saw Mr. Bump again, but I was so far ahead of where he thought I'd be that he didn't have a chance to get a picture of me). Then the course climbs through about Mile 3. I managed to spot my cousin and her family at around Mile 3, just outside their hotel.  Though I was heading uphill, and you can see it in my mile 3 split, I was just cruising. Mile 1 seemed a bit fast, but I was on target for 2-3, feeling good.  At this point in the race you have so far to go, it's best to just soak up what's going on around you ignore the fact that you're running. There will be time enough for that later.

Mile 4 - 10:22:0/Mile 5 - 10:38:1/Mile 6 - 10:34:5

At mile 4.5 you turn around and head back toward downtown. This was where it started to spit, then rain for the first time. We saw a couple of bands along here (there were supposedly something like 84 bands on the course), including a marimba group playing above us on a pedestrian walkway. Lots of people in the neighborhood were out with their coffee cheering us on and watching the, as we saw on several signs, such as: "Most Boring Parade Ever."  This part is back along the waterfront and heading toward the industrial area. I picked up some speed on the downhills but it didn't feel like I was pushing too hard. In retrospect, I was.  I never should have had a 10:22 split.  In this section we passed by a homeless tent camp under a bridge and the smell was horrible.

Mile 7 - 10:38.6/Mile 8 - 10:39.4
I was around the 4:45 pace group at this point, so I thought I'd just hang with them, which I managed more or less until mile 15.  I was pushing pretty hard in the first half, and I could feel it in my legs. But I reasoned that I was supposed to be pushing the pace, this was the race, after all. But I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain it. That should have been my clue to pull back.  I saw a couple in camp chairs who had laid a raincoat down on the ground for their pit bull to curl up on, then draped it over his back to keep him warm. 

Mile 9 - 10:55.4/Mile 10 - 10:46.2
The first (second?) turnaround. It was at this point that I could finally see if anyone was still behind me. The next two miles allowed me to feel a little better about my pace, given the amount of runners, and eventually walkers, still coming toward us.  It rained all along here, but thankfully we didn't get stopped for any trains. We cross probably 10 sets of tracks along here, and it happens frequently that runners get stopped, but we didn't. Someone I saw at breakfast the next morning said they got stopped for 15 minutes, but they were run/walking and didn't particularly care about their time. I think they said they clocked in around 6:30.  I remember actual cheerleaders along this point. Tiny little middle school cheerleaders.

Mile 11 - 10:47:2/Mile 12 - 11:01.9/Mile 13 (halfway!) - 10:40.8
My memory of these miles was that there were lots of spectators, but knowing probably none of them would be for me. I always hold out a little hope that I'll be surprised, but no dice. Lots of great signs along this section. "I'm proud of you, complete stranger!" and "Your feet hurt because you're kicking so much asphalt/butt/etc."  My feet weren't hurting yet but I was feeling it in my calf muscles and my quads.  You run through some neighborhoods in mile 10-12, there were a few bands along the course, aid stations, all a rainy smeary blur. I realized it was probably going to be just this wet the rest of the way (which was almost true).  My spectators never got rained on, but then they were parked at Sugar Mama's inhaling a crazy-good breakfast. The didn't believe me when I said it rained almost the whole time when I saw them at the finish line.

Mile 14 - 11:01:1/Mile 15 - 11:02.8/Mile 16 - Checkpoint Charlie/The Hill - 11:37.5
Even though you realize at this point you're halfway, what you're feeling physically is that you can't possibly do this many miles all over again. For me I knew the hardest part of the course was coming up, that crazy steep hill you have to run up before going across St. John's bridge. I spent these miles trying to run under the cover of the trees to get out of the rain, and eyeing the bridge when I could see it in the distance, thinking how impossibly far away it seemed, and knowing I still had 9 miles yet to run after I got there.

For whatever reason, there are no race photos between the starting line and mile 17. Which I find just bizarre. Also my family was still leisurely consuming their from all accounts very delicious breakfast, with pancakes and homemade sausages. It was all very cruel now that I think about it.  I was trying to keep my body temperature up and eating Gus every 4-5 miles. What is wrong with me? I kept thinking.

There was also a guy dressed in drag like a 20s flapper girl along here. He/she must have been racing, however, because this was just after what they call "Checkpoint Charlie" where they make sure you have a timing chip and race bib on or you can't continue on the course.

Mile 17 - The Bridge - 12:59.4




This was a really tough mile, one of the slowest, too. It was rainy, there was a wet breeze coming off the river as we went over it, and I was out of Gatorade. You can actually see me trying to locate Mr. Bump and my folks as I came off the bridge in that second picture. But they, much like a water/aid station, were not to be found until mile 19. When you get up that hill and onto the bridge, you think that it's going to be downhill soon, but that damned bridge is very long and half of it is still climbing.  The weatherman was burned in effigy by us 5 hour marathoners on the bridge.


Mile 18 - 11:46.5  Frantically searching for something to drink, or someone I knew on this section. There were neither. The course profile appears to be all downhill from the end of the bridge to the very last half mile, but there was an uncharted hill after the initial downhill from the bridge. There was cursing involved. Also some walking. All I wanted was something to drink and to see my spectators in their Team Bump shirts. (Oh yes, I had shirts made. They are fabulous. I will share photos later.)

It was around here I also saw the best spectator sign EVER, held by a little blond boy of about 3. It said "My head was in the 99th percentile. You got this, Mom!" I laughed out loud.

Mile 19 - First Parental Sighting - 12:24.5

I finally saw Mr. Bump and my parents, and managed to swap out my empty bottle for a full one. I also took the opportunity to chuck the iFitness belt that I bought at the expo to carry my cell phone, because I just couldn't seem to get it to stay put, probably because I was sopping wet. I'll try it again but it chafed me somewhat, mostly because I couldn't get it to stay on my hips. Seeing my family and offloading some gear a boost I needed, but it didn't last for long.

Mentally I had this notion that once I got over the hill and the bridge, it would be all downhill and easier and I wouldn't hit the wall and that rainbows and unicorns would come shooting out of my ass running shoes. I wasn't prepared for how very long the last 6 miles were going to be. And I suffered for it.


Mile 20 - 12:45.2

Somewhere around here I began to feel my body and my mind separate from each other. I felt like they sort of uncoupled like two train cars, and while they were both traveling the same direction, they weren't really paying much attention to each other. I had fantasy conversations with other runners. I got fixated on a guy who's shirt said "I Am Sofa King..." and then had a list of sentence ends like "sweaty" and "awesome" and "my wife after this." I spent a good 3/4 of a mile trying to think up other ways to end that sentence.  I spent a lot of time scrutinizing the runners around me, what they were wearing, their gaits and socks and oh, just about anything. I felt like I was at a distance from all the spectators, all the other runners, myself. Also like I was sort of in slow-motion.  Probably I was somewhat energy depleted and my brain was just working triage on the body and didn't have time to entertain me.  It was weird, that's for sure.

I never had any problems with my GI on this race, and I never needed a pottie break either, which is normal for me. I did have a tough time opening up my gus and I don't think I kept up adequately with the fuel. I was trying to plan them for water stations, but I'd forget until I was out of water. I also kept meaning to wipe my face off to clear the salt off it at each water stop, but I kept forgetting that too.  My brain gets very forgetful when I'm racing. It doesn't have much short-term memory.

Mile 21 - 13:15.6/Mile 22 - 12:04.2/Mile 23 - 11:57.0/Mile 24 - 13.09.8
This is where the wheels came off the bus and I felt like I let everyone down. Remember how I said I was going to dedicate these miles to thinking about people in my life that I found inspiring and/or supportive?  I apparently am really bad at math because I didn't list anyone for mile 22-23. I therefore spent miles 20-23 trying to figure out who the hell I was supposed to be thinking of. But I also spent a lot of these miles alternating between running and hurting and thinking about walking, and then walking and hurting in different places and trying to gear back up to running again.  I felt bad for the people I was supposed to be using as "inspiration" because these splits were anything but inspiring. 

Still, I kept moving, even though I kept forgetting that I was on mile 22 instead of 23 (so disappointing). These are the "never again" miles, when you're sure that you will never run another marathon. They're also the miles where the 5:00 hour pace group caught up to me, then passed me at a water station. They were in my line of sight until about 24, when you cross back over the river. That was the point at which my goals began to shift back to "finish and not die." I was trying to do math at this point to figure out exactly how much further I had to go and if I really was going to miss a sub 5:00 marathon. I'm useless at math on the best of days, so I had no idea.

I did think, more than once, as a way to get myself back running, that this was the walk break I was going to regret later. That got me going again every time.

Mile 25 - 11:19.8 (negative split!) Around this time I realized if I didn't have too much further to go, and if I picked up the pace, I might actually finish sub 5 hours. Hence the negative split. Actually, this is the pace I should have run every mile. But it felt like a hurry after the last five slow run/walk miles. There is some good downhill on this part too, so I opened it up as best I could. The fact that I was able to run this mile faster lets me know that I could have run some of the previous 5 faster, if I had mentally been around.


Mile 26 - 12:00.3


Misery is the best way to describe this face. Until you round this corner, you really have no idea how much further you have to go. People keep screaming at you that "you're almost there!" which is the most useless piece of shit encouragement.  I think this was 25.9 or so, so really only .3 miles left to go. But until you can see the finish line, it's really hard to know you're close, but you can't see quite how close you are to finishing. I also knew my watch was off the official course markers, so even though I could tell how far I'd come, I couldn't do the math on how much further I had to go. If there was a final 800 meters sign, I never saw it.  I also didn't see my father waving his baseball cap at me over the barricades. I was just focused on holding on to it. I so badly wanted to stop and walk, but there was some serious shame in that so I kept running.

26.0-26.4 (my Garmin's official distance) - 5:37.8 (but I forgot to stop my watch right away, so a bit off)
Net time: 5:02:43 (official)
Average pace: 11:26/mile


I only vaguely remember putting my hands up here, but it makes for a nice picture so I'm glad I did.

Post-race
After finishing I was really impatient to get my medal and space blanket and get moving again. After being in motion for that long it's really hard to just stop and wait in a line (no matter how short) to get your medal. Also, apparently my blood sugar was nonexistant because I was ready to shove some other poor finisher out of the way to get my medal.  I was completely soaked to the skin by the time I finished, so that space blanket was great. Although it was sort of sweat under it, freeze out of it. I've seen in other races that they tape them on like a cape, which would have been helpful because of all the other stuff I was going to need my hands for. Upon reflection, perhaps there were some bags somewhere, but they weren't in my line of sight.

The finisher's chute for this race was an effort to load you down with a bunch of stuff when you can barely grip anything at this point. Medal, space blanket, rose, comemerative coin, pendant, long sleeve t-shirt, and tree seedling.  For some reason I insisted on a hot pink (not pale pink) rose from the poor girls gripping thorny roses. Why I cared, I have no idea. But I distinctly remember thinking that I'd just finished an f*cking marathon and I deserved the color of rose I wanted. 

Not to mention the fact that there is tons of food. And you really would like to eat (or at least grab some of it), but your hands are full of things you can't eat.  As I was heading from the roses to the food, the road seemed to slant one direction and a race volunteer angel descended from a cloud in front of me, asking me if I was all right. I assured her I was fine, it was the street that seemed to be slanted to the left. She nodded, gripped me around the shoulders and said "Let's get you some juice."  Once I had a little cup of juice, and she was assured that I wasn't going to fall over, she waved vaguely in the direct of the medical tent in case I needed it and used her angel wings to flutter over to the next delirious finisher.

I got orange and grape juice, a string cheese (I heard some older gentleman saying "how do you get this thing open?") a half a banana, a frozen fruit bar, and a fistful of redvines, pretty much at random. Although I really wanted that fruit bar. They also had mini candy bars, bags of chips, quarters of bagels, oranges, grapes, gingersnaps (should have got some of those), other cookies. A ton of food. I ran out of room to put stuff so I just gave up. And then they handed me the pendant and the coin in little velvet pouches. Then I really was out of room. At that point the street was sort of tipping again, and I just wanted to find my family. The reunion area was really really far away, probably  3/4 of a block from where you exit the finisher's chute. Yes, I had just run 26.2 miles so an extra 2-3 blocks of finisher's chute to reunion area was really too long. 

Thankfully my last name starts with A, so my little band of merry spectators was waiting at the head of the reunion area. And let me tell you, it was the best part of the whole day to see them and the smiles on their faces. I wish I had been lucid enough to get photos of that. It was wonderful. So much better than any of my armloads full of race schwag. Mr. Bump became my official holder-upper, and while I now regret that he to NO photos of me after the race, it sure felt good to have someone's arm around my shoulder at the time.

We walked to the car, said goodbye to my family who came down from Washington, and made it back to the hotel and into a very long, very hot shower.  Later we went to lunch at Burgerville and then over to Powell's Bookstore (somewhere along the course I promised myself that as a reward for finishing) but I couldn't even think about what I wanted to look at or buy and my feet were throbbing so I cut the visit short.  I rested in the late afternoon but didn't nap, and we went to bed early. That was pretty much it. 

I finished. I didn't get sick, didn't have any blisters, although I got a wicked chafe from my heart rate monitor because of how wet I was. I didn't hit all my goals but I did hit some. I'm calling it a win.  I'll save my thoughts and future goals for another post. Sorry this is so long. If you got all the way to the end of it, then I owe you a medal. Leave me your address in the comments section.

the waiting is the hardest part

Pictures from the race still haven't posted on the Portland Marathon's website (and it sounds like they won't be until Tuesday), but hopefully this will tide you over.  Mr. Bump didn't get very many pictures of me because it was crazy packed and just hard. They would be searching the crowd for me, and by the time they saw me, there wasn't time to snap a picture. Because I'm just that fast.

Here's one from the start line, just before I entered the F corral (ominous?) and the porta-pottie line that would kill 20 minutes between when Mr. Bump and I parted company and when the race started.

It was kind of chilly but not too bad. I was amazed at the amount of clothing people kept on. I was expecting to see a lot of clothing get shucked, based on what people were wearing, but I saw runner's near the finish line with jackets and layers! I went with short sleeves, running skirt, compression knee-highs. I thought that I was going to have some chafing issues as I kept needing to adjust at the start, but once I got going everything seemed to settle down and behave itself.

This one is kind of a where's Waldo deal. See if you can spot me, based on what you know I'm wearing from above.

As always, there's some old geezer in my way. Take a good look at my thigh, because that's the best shot of it you're going to see.  And then brace yourself.

*Moment of silence for my body image*

Man is that terrible. I'm sure there are more of those to come in the official race photos.

Anyway. Moving on!

The Portland Marathon collects a whole bunch of data from the timing chip, and uses it in a matrix to show you all kinds of cool (or depressing) information about your race, and how it relates to everyone else's. Like this:

It shows your gun time, chip time, and where you placed. I love how it tells you how many runners you passed, and how many passed you, in the final 6.2. Not too shabby, considering the out of body experience I was having at that point.  In the top 2/3rds of finishers, middle of the pack for my gender. I'm amazed there were only 8402 finishers. Supposedly 15,000 people had registered. Where were they?

Then it also shows you your pace and speed per mile/km.  It's kind of hard to see the "Your Finish" but it basically shows you who/how many people finished before you/after you (also shows their names and division/sex). You can scroll forward and back to see who finished ahead or behind you. The different colors are for men/women/runners in my division. I like seeing all those guys behind me. :)

 This one shows (yellow arrow) where I was on the course when the winner crossed the finish line.

That's mile 12.

Where I was when the Female Winner crossed the finish line.

Winner of F35-40 division

 You can also input someone else's bib number and find out where they were in relationship to you. Which would be very cool if I had known anyone else running this race. You can also see in the "Section MPH" area, that my mph deteriorated in the last half, and especially in the last 6.2.

I am still gathering my thoughts about the race itself, but this one was definitely a different experience than the last marathon. The size of the race and the number of spectators aside, it just felt different. I was somewhat fractured in my preparation, both physically because of nagging injuries, and mentally because we were traveling with my parents. I just never really had time to sit down and puzzle out my race plan. I had a vague idea of when I was going to take my gels, which wasn't correlative to water stations. I winged it on hydration, bring some gatorade but also drinking the course drink and water. While it was painful and exhausting, there were times when I definitely felt the physical and the mental uncouple. It wasn't exactly an out of body experience, but that's the closest term I can think of to describe it. I couldn't get myself to even sprint to the finish line because despite yelling at myself to, I wasn't able to reach down to wherever the mental/physical handoff happens. I would think it, but my thoughts didn't translate for my body. It was weird, I'll tell you that.

More later...once those race photos come out. Then I can give you a mile by mile play by play.

5:02:43

No sub 5 hour marathon, but a PR. And darned close. I also think I shook up my babymaking parts so that whole having kids discussion may be moot.  It was an interesting day. I got as close as I could, but I just didn't make it under 5 hours. I think I'm happy but right now all I am is tired. More later.

me against the marathon

Your heroine

vs.

26.2 glorious miles

In these conditions

The bags are packed, the boarding passes are in hand. All training that is to be done has been done.  All that's left to do now is make sure I'm properly hydrated and my liver is all filled up with glycogen goodness. I think I can handle it. The scale this morning claims my liver weighs 2 more pounds than it did last week. Unless that's all water weight. Hm.

Actually, there is one last bit of training I need to do now, and aside from Mr. Bump and I herding cats my parents around northern Oregon. And that's getting my game face on.  I've got a variety of goals for this marathon, which is partly why I'm so keyed up.

A goal:  A 4:45 marathon. Is this realistic given my training? Probably not, but if all the stars align, I might have it in me.  It's my might-just-be-out-of-reach goal.

B goal: A 4:59:xx marathon. My main goal is to break 5 hours. My previous marathon time was 5:03, and I believe I can break that 5 hour barrier, barring any major crap disasters.  There will be pacers for this marathon, and although my previous experience with pacers wasn't great, if I can keep myself between the 4:45 and 5:00 pacers, I'll be in the sweet spot.

C goal: A 5:02:xx marathon. If something goes awry, and I can't gain back a couple of minutes, I would really like to beat my previous marathon time.

D goal: Finish this mother.  Really, this is primary. Given the challenges of this training cycle, I just want to git ma giddy up and hold my medal up.  I just freestyled that right there. Next career: rap star, yo.

Beyond setting out my goals ahead of time, the mental preparation is also all about making a sort of plan and visualizing how that's going to look.  

• I plan on running the first 17 or so miles except for water stops, and then assess how I'm feeling at that point as to whether I want to switch to run/walk or just keep after it.  If I switch to run walk, I'll shoot for 5/1 intervals.  
• Mr. Bump and I are trying to make a spectator plan as well, places where they'll try to be so I can look for them.  There are going be something like 14,000 runners in this bad boy, so there's a good chance we could miss each other all together.  We'd all be disappointed to come all this way and not have the opportunity to connect, but I have to face that as a possibility, and mentally be prepared to run the whole distance on my own. With 13,999 other people.  
• Speaking of other people, I really want to try very hard not to get caught up in the start surge and run those first couple of miles too fast. This is hard for every runner, and while I've been guilty of it in the past, I know that I can also slow down and take the first few easy.  
• I'm also experimenting with a mantra or two:  I've always loved Haruki Murakami's: Pain is inevitable, misery is optional. I've actually got a headband with those words on it, which I might be wearing for  the marathon. Other options are
• Those last 6.2 miles. I'm going to try and dedicate each of those last six miles to someone who has supported me, helped me along and been my cheerleader. I've got three pros already lined up, who I hope to see along the way.  
• My two friends whose names both start with Chris. I've raced with both of them, and had so much fun with both of them.  While I'm hating miles 20-22, I'm going to try to think about the smiles on their faces while I was pushing them both to sprint at the end of those races. 
• Mom gets mile 23-24. Pretty much don't have to explain this one to anyone who has ever met my mom, but in case you haven't, I'll just leave you with this picture. Also she's the designated worrier for Team Bump, so I have nothing to worry about--she's on top of it.
 
• That guy in the matching sweatshirt is my dad. Mile 24-25 is really hard. You want so badly to quit, even though you're almost done. Your body is wrecked (pain is inevitable, misery is optional) and every step feels like the toughest step you've ever taken. My father has broken many bones, fallen several stories, flown through the windshield of his pickup truck, fallen down a well, and had so many stitches we've stopped keeping track. At almost 77, he's still a badass. If he can shrug off pain and keep at it, then I can cowboy up that mile. I'm going to be picturing him marching behind me shoving me toward the finish line. That'll work for me.

• Mr. Bump gets mile 25-26. He's been to all but a handful of my races, and he's always there after a hot run with a big glass of ice water and a fan, or a mug of cocoa after a snowy, chilly one. He always, every time, no matter whether it's a 3-miler or a 21 miler, asks me how my run went. I never could have gotten to a point in my life where I was running a marathon without him.
• Don't worry, I didn't forget that last 2/10ths of a mile, which is without question the most difficult .2 miles EVER. The person I hope to be thinking about, through the hazy stupor that comes from being able to see the finish line,is my littlest running partner, A. He runs because it's fun and most of the time when he does, he's giggling (although that might be because I'm chasing him...hm). And I'm sure I'm going to need that reminder right about then. Because really, shouldn't it always be this fun?

And have no fear. I'll probably be thinking about you somewhere between miles 1 and 20. I'm sure you'll come up.  Thanks for reading all the way to the end of this ramble. I'll be back, hopefully before Sunday.  In case you're dying to know how this all plays out, you can real time track my progress via this link on race day. My bib no. is lucky #6523.

crap

No one can say that RAIN in Portland is a big surprise for race day. But a girl could hope.

Friday five things x two = lots of woe

1. Back still hurts, but it is better. Standing for long periods of time is out (so glad I have to decorate a WEDDING CAKE in the next two days!), but I can walk ok if I'm not carrying anything, and sitting is fine. When I wake up in the morning, I'm pain free. 
2. I saw the doctor on Monday and she says that since the pain is intermittent it is probably muscular (spasms) and can be handled with ibuprofen and muscle relaxants. Muscle relaxants are the shit. I'm awake for about an hour, and then I slide sideways no matter what I'm doing. Best to just leave those for overnight consumption. And that's when I'm cutting a pill in half.
3. I'm making a wedding cake for someone to be delivered tomorrow at 3:30. I am living for 5:00 on Saturday. It seems like there is so much potential for me to end up on Cake Wrecks in the near future. Hold me.
4. I paid off my student loans on Monday. Paid. In. Full. I've only been paying on them since 1998. I feel so free. And richer.
5. Marathon is in 37 days. Hold me.
6. I have gone through the five stages of grief this week, but ultimately I've settled for anger. I refuse to let this injury get the better of my plans, and all the time I've put in to training. I'm mad at my body, I'm mad at my training plan (because this is its fault), I'm mad at the weather for making training so hard. I HATE summer marathon training. But I'm fighting mad.
7. I'm very tired of reading running blogs where everyone is Running! Lots! of Miles! and I feel like a failure because of the injuries and time I've had to take off from running. It makes me feel really really bad. I know it isn't like I'm just being lazy, but it feels like it's my own fault and I've failed at training. (I had this listed as No. 10 but I just can't finish on this note.)
8. I applied for a credit card on Sunday night, and I've yet to get an email from them. Should I be worried? I haven't checked the mailbox in a few days, though, so who knows?
9. I can finally, FINALLY get my hair in the stumpiest of ponytails/pigtails. It's only taken me almost a year to grow my hair out this long.
10. There will be pizza, alcohol, and a run in my Labor Day weekend, damn it! Not on the same day, perhaps, and not in conjunction with the consumption of muscle relaxants, but still THEY WILL HAPPEN.

what i've been up to: running edition

These are the races I've done in the last few months:

November 2010 - Turkey Trot 5K, Loveland, CO 32:11 PR
December 2010 - Rudolph's Revenge 5K, Littleton, CO 32:59
January 2011 - Frosty's Frozen 5M, Littleton, CO 51:14 PR
February 2011 - Snowman Stampede 10M, Littleton, CO 1:50:01 PR

This is what's on tap for the rest of the year.  Races in black I'm registered for, races in blue I'm thinking about; and races in red I've got my fingers crossed for.

March 2011 - Boulder Spring Half Marathon, Boulder, CO
April 2011 - Platte Half Marathon, Littleton, CO
May 2011 - Colorado Marathon 10K, Fort Collins, CO
June 2011 - ??
July 2011 - Leadville Heavy Half Marathon (15 M), Leadville, CO
August 2011 - Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon
September 2011 - ??
October 2011 Nike Women's Marathon/Portland Marathon
November 2011 (NYCM)
December 2011 ??

As you might be able to discern, I'm thinking about a streak this year. Think I can do 12 races in 12 months? I've only got one marathon in me this year, and I've got a priority list:  NYC Marathon (pipe dream), Nike Women's Marathon (Tiffany necklace finisher medal), or Portland Marathon (all reports are that it's a lovely race, but if I hem and haw too long, it might be full before I get a chance to sign up).  I really want to run NYC but I signed up for the lottery not really thinking I'd get it on my first try. I'll let you know on April 30th whether I got picked or not.  If not, I've always had Nike Women's Marathon on my list, but I've heard some pretty negative things about the race organization and course support for the full marathoners.  Also it's a lottery system that is supposed to draw sometime in March/April, but I can't find anywhere that you can sign up for the lottery yet. Which leaves me with Portland, but I'm stuck wondering if I should sign up now, or wait until after the lottery for NYC. If I wait, I run the risk of it selling out before I can sign up.  Not sure what to do.

Anyway, so depending on what marathon I end up getting picked/picking, That leaves me with needing a race in June, one in September, and one in either October or November that I need to choose.  I've had a tough time finding one in June that takes my fancy, and since I'm running the Boulder Spring Half, I don't want to run the same course for the Boulder Backroads Half in September, which I did in 2009.  There are gobs to choose from in October, and if all else fails I can go for the Turkey Trot again in November. December could either be the Rudolph's Revenge again, or I could push back my marathon until December and run either Rock and Roll Vegas or California International Marathon in Sacramento.  Decisions, decisions.

Well, I'm off to be a good little physical therapy patient and do my exercises.  How I've ended up in PT, and the fact that I haven't shared my 12 in 12 goals with my physical therapist, well, that's another blog post for another time.  Toodles!

P.S.  I'm also on Daily Mile --> see the widget on the sidebar?  Let's be workout buddies!

let's recap, shall we?

So shall we discuss August?  That lovely month where all my goals went off track, slid down the mountainside, and came to rest in a heap in the river.  As you will recall readers, when we last saw our heroine, she was having some serious motivation problems. My perspective was all jacked up, too. I had a run in Leadville that I didn't finish. This was a first for me. It was only 12.5 miles instead of the 14 I was supposed to, and I cried my heart out over it. Seriously, me?  You ran 12 1/2 miles. At 10,000 feet. Why are you crying! 

Anyway, I don't know if it was heat or motivation, but I kept getting (at least what felt like) slower and slower.  So set the scene: this was my my state of mind at the end of July.

Enter August. Which started out with the removal of two of my wisdom teeth. (By the way, I don't recommend this, if for no other reason than the fact that I kept hearing, "Well, you know you're older, so your recovery is going to be harder. Gee, thanks for the reminder.)  This, I believe, was the Universe's way of deciding what was next for me.  Two weeks of painkillers, semi-soft food (Wendy's frosty, I heart you), and not being able to open my mouth more than the width of a finger. I did a short run about a week later, but what wasn't in the cards for me was running the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half-Marathon, as I had planned. As I had signed up for and paid my money for. This, again, was a first for me. A DNS (did not start). The shame! 

But, when you wake up the day before the race, and you're covered head to toe with a bright red rash, this is again the Universe intervening in your training. This was the day I ran a 4 mile test run anyway, but that was before I realized I was standing at the corner of Rash and Itch streets. And by the way, Universe? You don't have to shout.  I think I can hear you just fine now, thanks. We think it was a penicillin allergy, but that is something my doctor and I will have to make sure about at a later date.

So no half-marathon for me, which was probably a Life Lesson or something.  There will be other races. After all, they hold this race every year! Yada yada yada.  Somewhere after the half marathon no-go, I decided that maybe it was time to let go of the idea of another marathon this year. And rather than being tearful and mopey about it, it felt like a huge relief. Marathon training takes a lot of energy and time, and maybe two training cycles back to back was a mistake for me. Other people can do it with no problem, but not me. So sayeth the Universe, so sayeth I.

I started instead to watch what I ate, record it, calorie count--all that stuff, and also to do some cross-training.  I've gotten back on the bike (hurrah!) and the elliptical, and the treadmill.  I'm doing some pilates. Some strength training.  And wouldn't you know it?  My weight has started to drop again, somewhere to the tune of 5 pounds, although some of that is probably water. I've got about 4 pounds left to go before I'm officially (and forever, damnit!) a healthy weight, according to my BMI.  With a month to go before our trip to Italy, that is my new goal. A healthy weight before I go to the country that loves carbs almost as much as I do. But given the amount of walking I think we'll be doing, I'm not too worried.

I'm also I'm trying to fall back in love with running. We're flirting with each other, but I'm going to take it slow. This is a relationship I'd like to last.

And although September has begun with what is either a late summer or an early fall cold which made my Labor Day weekend an indoor-on-the-couch-with-a-book kind of holiday, I'm going to go ahead and give September the benefit of the doubt.  The weather has shifted, and the summer heat seems to have gone out of sun. Up at Bumpalot the leaves are starting to turn.

Fall is my time of year, and I'm back, baby!  Take that, Universe!

no day is a good day

that starts with a pile of dog vomit in your bed.  Blergh. Mr. Bump didn't love his dinner last night, so he set the remaining mushrooms and sauce on the floor for Ruby to finish off.  Apparently it didn't agree with her either, and she didn't want to bother us, so she just threw up in the bed between us.  On the comforter, and the sheets, which bled through to the mattress pad but thankfully not the mattress.  I'm not sure when she did it, but it was an unpleasant wake-up call.

But!  There have been good things happening, too.

Like this:

And by that I mean the diamond earring you can see in my left ear.  Yes!  I finally, FINALLY, got myself those earrings.  This isn't the best picture of them, but I do love them so.  They aren't huge, but they're big enough for me, and they're wearable, which I have been doing without a break since I got them.  It will probably mean that I'll have to clean them more often, but I don't care.  The point of them is to remind me of what I've accomplished and what that means to me.  And how important it is to keep working on it, every single day.

And with that in mind, I must admit that since the marathon, I've gained a couple of pounds.  Quite honestly three to four.  So the earrings also are a reminder to get back to basics, and so that's where I am.  With my food log, and my exercise, and all that hard work.  Mostly I think they are the result of eating like I'm running 25-30 miles a week, while actually not running any.  Whoopsie.

So I'm back to hitting the pavement, too.  I took three or so weeks off, and then one half-hearted week where I ran once.  But I'm back, baby!  And trying to figure out some new training goals, which is tough.  I feel really at sea without a goal, and without a goal I have been re-introduced to those three to four pounds.

I thought about a triathalon for a bit, but the lack of someplace to train and the amount of gear required were offputting to me.  I love to swim, I like to ride my bicycle (Queen reference!), and running is my bag. But trying to find a place to swim that isn't the teeny tiny rec center pool has been a challenge.  So for right now, I think that I'll let that go, although I am going to try and do more cross-training this summer.  We're on the cusp of the purchase of a new bike for me (so exciting!), and it's between this one and this one.  So I hope to use that a bit, too. 

I cringe to put this out there, but without accountability, I'm a backslider.  I think I'm going to try another marathon.  In the fall.  *Cringe*  I'm thinking about the Mountain Air Marathon, which is at some elevation, but is again downhill, and isn't a big marathon.  So there you go.  I said it.  So much for keeping it under my hat, Mr. Bump!  I'm competitive enough to really want to try and run it under 5 hours.  Anyway, what this means is I'm back on a training schedule.  Which is good for me--I do well with structure.  What I don't do so well with is heat, which we've been enjoying in our neck of the woods lately.  I ran last night at 8:30, then got up this morning and left the house to run in to work at 5:45.  Both runs were very sweaty, and it has been very hard to get control of my heart rate.  I only took a few weeks off, so I can't imagine that the difference is in my fitness.  The heat is killer.  I don't remember how I did it last year when I was training for the half.  I predict a lot of early mornings in my future.  Hopefully ones free of dog vomit.

the post marathon world

Immediately after crossing the finish line on Sunday I thought "Huh. That wasn't so bad." Sure, my feet hurt.  Sure, I was really tired.  But I didn't feel horrible, which is what I was led to expect. To answer one of the questions I've been getting this week, (How was your marathon?) I say "It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be!"  But I would argue that this statement speaks more to my pessimistic nature than my mad marathon skills. 

The soreness didn't set in until sometime late Sunday night/early Monday morning, but set in it did.  I went to roll over, not fully awake, until I was fully awake because someone had come in while I was sleeping and took a baseball bat to my quadriceps.  Every position was painfully sore.  The transition from standing to sitting on the toilet was a particularly painful one. But it sort of felt like as much of a medal as my actual finisher's medal.  Bragging rights, if you will.  But after a lovely, lengthy massage on Monday night, I was feeling much better. 

By yesterday all the soreness was gone.  The only physical reminders of the marathon that remain are some scabs leftover from where my fuel belt and my heart rate monitor chafed.  And while that's good (great, actually) from a physical standpoint, I'm beginning to get that late-in-the-party feel, where the helium balloons are floating a foot from the floor. That bit where almost everyone has left and there are dorito crumbs and sticky spots all over the floor, half-empty Solo cups on every surface--you get the idea of this metaphor. 

I've gotten the "what now?" question a lot already, and I'm with all the askers.  What now indeed.  I'm realizing that perhaps I am meant for distance, for endurance.  I'm realizing just how much I'd like to shave 3 minutes and 51 seconds off my marathon time.  Other people I know who ran the race are still hobbling and not at all contemplating another one.  Me?  I'm thinking about how I could have done better.  Gone faster. Ran more of the last half. 

My anxieties about finishing flew out of my head around mile 15--I knew by then that I was feeling well enough to finish.  And I tried as hard as I could to speed up in the last three miles, but there really wasn't any gas in the tank.  I may as well go ahead and admit this here.  I got passed by a 70ish speed walker. No--I got smoked by a 70ish speed walker.  She smoked me by at least a couple of minutes, sadly.  I kept up with her for a while, but at some point I couldn't summon enough interest or energy to pass her or even keep up with her.  So instead I watched her go.  And admitted to myself that although I was going to finish after that woman, I was more interested in finishing myself than beating someone else. 

But beating my own time. That's something worth thinking very hard about.  But I don't know yet. Maybe I'll do a sprint triathalon this summer.  Maybe I'll find a race up in the mountains.  But for just this moment, I'm ready to be done with Week 0 of training and get back out there on the road.  It's crazy, but even yesterday I was really trying to figure out when I could run again.  I'm proud of that fact too, alongside the marathon finish.  The post-marathon restart can be hard.  But I think I'm ready to begin again.

Tomorrow is my birthday.  Thirty-five was a really good year for me.  I've got nothing  (except perhaps a couple new crow's feet around my eyes) (ok one thing) bad to say about it.  I can't wait to see what this next year will hold. 

5:03:51

I'm beyond proud of myself and happy with my time.  I'll try to get a recap together in the next couple of days but for now, I'm just going to try and nurse my sore muscles.  It was a hard day, but an awesome one.

2010 Colorado Marathon

What a difference a year makes: 

 2009 Colorado Marathon 10K

24 hours from now

You've played this game, right?  When you have something big huge major going on the next day, and you analyze what part of the big huge major you'll be in 24 hours from now.  As I write this, 24 hours from now I will be all done with the marathon.  Hard to imagine.  I woke up this morning around 3:45, and realized 24 hours from then I'd be getting up to get ready to go meet the bus, which will take me up to the start of the race.  I woke up again at 6:05, and realized 24 hours from now I'd be crossing the start line.  That line of thought has rolled on and on today. 

I was in worry mode today (what today? try this whole week) until we went to pick up my race packet.  When I saw my bib number was 13, I found my excitement, wherever it has been hiding.  Thirteen is my lucky number. I choose day to believe in signs.  Everything is going to be great. I'm going to have a good time. I have exhaled. 

See you 24 (or so) hours from now.

big huge major

So this week made the mistake (mistake! dumb, dumb dumb) of sending out a mass email inviting all and sundry to come and cheer me on on Sunday.  I know it would really help me if my loved ones popped up along the way.  But then came the "I can't make it" emails.  Which is fine.  I wasn't expecting everyone to come.  If no one came, would I still run the race? Yes, because I'm not doing it for anyone else but me.  But it was a dumb idea because now I feel worse that I invited people and they're not coming than I would have if I hadn't invited them and they weren't coming, if that makes sense.  I am high up on the "self-obsessed" scale of personal self-interest. I get that. Also, high up on the "I must control every tiny aspect of my life" chart.

Sometimes I just can't help myself.  You know how something happens to you, or you plan something and it totally and completely takes over your life?  Where you have moments where you shake your head at other people because don't they KNOW that your flugelhorn recital is on Saturday?  This is a big huge major deal for me, but for me. Not anyone else.  I'm obsessed with it because I've spent the past four months' worth of weekends running for hours at a time.  Weeknights of 7 and 8 mile runs, in rain and snow and dark. I have clothes with Gatorade stains (and man, that stuff can stain).  I am sunburned and freckled and on my second pair of running shoes for the year.  I'm closing in on 400 miles logged on my Garmin. So yeah, big huge major.  But aside from Mr. Bump and a couple of close friends, no one else is bound to get it. It's day after day of not just the runs themselves, but planning runs, researching gear and fuel, and stretching. Oh the stretching.  And if you didn't have a ringside seat for all of it, picking me up with a cooler full of ice packs and chocolate milk, making dinner because I don't get home from my after-work run until seven o'clock, always asking me "How was your run?" and buying me pepper spray after that one dodgy by the train tracks run--well then of course you don't get it.  My marathon is just way too early and too far away and right smack dab in the middle of your Sunday morning.

But that's ok. Because I know your trip to South America or your dog training class or Mother's Day aren't on my radar, but they're your big huge major deal.  And I probably won't appreciate how hard you've worked, or how much energy went into your big huge major. Maybe because you haven't told me about it, or I haven't listened well. It may even be that we haven't connected lately enough to know what's going on with each other. And that's just how it goes.

Just so you know, Mr. Bump will be there, Mrs. Bump my mother-in-law will be there.  My parents will be there.  Mr. Bump's aunt will be there.  I'll get plenty of love and cheers.  And every single person I've heard from that can't come? They've all promised to keep me in their thoughts Sunday morning.  The security guard at work who's from Boston and has run the Boston Marathon 3 times?  He's going to be thinking about me and wondering how I'm doing. My co-worker the triathelete? She's going to remember me when she's out on her Sunday morning run. And you all--I'm sure you will too.  So what am I whining about?  I have absolutely no idea.  

I'm glad we had this talk.  I feel so much better.

three days

Had a horrible run on Tuesday.  Horrible.  My knee hurt a lot, I was really hot, my heart rate kept spiking. Frequently I found myself walking instead of running without consciously thinking, "I should stop and walk."  My body apparently had some say in that decision.  I iced my knee and pounded some advil when I got home, and it seems better now.  But what the hell?  I might be freaking out. A little. Ish. Maybe.

My tummy has been bothering me the last couple of days, too, which is throwing off my eating.  I don't know if it's nerves or the advil I've been taking. I've had a couple of stuffy noses, but I think those are allergies.  I'm paranoid something is going to happen in the next three days that would force me to DNS (did not start, not to be confused with DNF, did not finish).  I'm supposed to run a 3-miler tonight, but I'm worried about my knee and not sure I want to push it before Sunday.  Will missing a single 3 mile run ruin my marathon abilities?  I don't think so. So I'm done with running before Sunday.  Tonight I'll stretch out well, and take a hot bath.  Tomorrow I'll sleep in for as long as I can, and take a nap in the afternoon if at all possible.  I will be rested. I will be ready.  

I've got some things to do in the next couple of days which will keep me busy, like sorting out my gear, making Mr. Bump a birthday cake.  I'm trying to just distract myself as much as possible at this point.  Lately I've been using these as a point of distraction:

Pretty, no?  These beauties might just keep me going at mile 18, if no one is there to cheer me on. If I make it through, who knows?  Anything might be possible. The world just might crack wide open and these might fall into my lap. 

five days

I'm so keyed up that I'm low on words, at least words that aren't expletives. But this poem was in my feed reader from a few days ago, and while it isn't about running per se, still it seems to resonate with me. There comes a point in every race (usually in the first couple of miles) where everyone in the pack is pounding along, breathing, making the turns in the course together.

Blackbirds
by Julie Cadwallader Staub

I am 52 years old, and have spent
truly the better part
of my life out-of-doors
but yesterday I heard a new sound above my head
a rustling, ruffling quietness in the spring air

and when I turned my face upward
I saw a flock of blackbirds
rounding a curve I didn't know was there
and the sound was simply all those wings
just feathers against air, against gravity
and such a beautiful winning
the whole flock taking a long, wide turn
as if of one body and one mind.

How do they do that?

Oh if we lived only in human society
with its cruelty and fear
its apathy and exhaustion
what a puny existence that would be

but instead we live and move and have our being
here, in this curving and soaring world
so that when, every now and then, mercy and tenderness triumph in our lives
and when, even more rarely, we manage to unite and move together
toward a common good,

and can think to ourselves:

ah yes, this is how it's meant to be.

courtesy of The Writer's Almanac

Six days

Final week.  I've run my last long run before the race.   I've got a 4 miler tomorrow and a 3 miler on Thursday.  And that's it.  I've done all I can do.  I'm prepared as I'll get.  The rest is all downhill. Kinda literally.  Mr. Bump and I drove the course over the weekend, and it is 90% downhill.  And twisty/turn-y. There is really no way to run it unless they have traffic blocked off, as they will on Sunday.  But I've run all the portions you can run without orange cones in the road.  My shoes are broken in, I've gotten comfortable with my fuel belt, and all that's left to do is hydrate, eat well, get as much rest as I can, and decide what to wear.  I intend to go through my gear and post some pictures of my running stuff.  We'll see if that happens.

I've got a couple of body parts that are nagging at me, and I'm going to acknowledge them and then tuck them away.  They aren't going to prevent me from running the marathon, so I'll just have to live with them.  The inside of my left knee, just to the left of my kneecap, has been bothering me off and on for the last couple of weeks.  But it seems to respond to ice and Advil, so I'll keep on that this week.  My right hip has a spot that's painful when I poke on it or do a hula-hoop hip stretch, but otherwise doesn't bug me too much.  It doesn't seem to respond to ice or heat or ibuprofen or anything.  I think it might be something like bursitis, in which case it is what it is, and probably only rest will make it better.

Currently the weather is looking pretty good.  High of 62, low of 43, partly cloudy, 20% chance of rain.  There is a real possibility of that changing in the next few days, however, and that weather forecast isn't for up in the canyon.  It's bound to be colder, probably in the 30s.  And shady.

But the truth is all of these factors (except possibly for the nagging body parts) are external.  And so much of this whole thing is mental.  I'm trying my best with that part.  I've been reading Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, and there's a part where he talks about running a 62 mile Ultramarathon.  He hits a point where he begins to run on autopilot and I'm trying to cement that experience, that state of being in my mind.  I believe I reached it in the last two miles of my 20 mile run a few weeks ago, so I sort of know what he's talking about. This is what he says (his experience in the passage below occurs at around mile 47):

My muscles silently accepted this exhaustion now as a historical inevitability, an ineluctable outcome of the revolution. I had been transformed into a being on autopilot, whose sole purpose was to rhythmically swing his arms back and forth, move his legs forward one step at a time.  I didn't think about anything. I didn't feel anything. I realized all of a sudden that even physical pain had all but vanished. Or maybe it was shoved into some unseen corner, like some ugly furniture you can't get rid of....I was in the midst of deep exhaustion that I'd totally accepted, and the reality was that I was still able to continue running, and for me there was nothing more I could ask of the world.

Sine I was on autopilot, if someone had told me to keep on running, I might well have run beyond sixty-two miles. It's weird, but at the end I hardly knew who I was or what I was doing. This should have been a very alarming feeling, but it didn't feel that way. By then running had entered the realm of the metaphysical. First there came the action of running, and accompanying it there was this entity know as me. I run; therefore I am.

This is what I'm aiming for, around mile 17.  At the end of every long run in my training, I would think about how I was feeling at the end of it, trying to decide if I had x (if x represents run + x = marathon) left in me.  And I never was sure that I could continue until I got to the end of the 20 mile run.  In the last two miles of that run, I began to think that it wouldn't matter if I ran another 2 or another 6.2.  It was all going to be the same.  That's the moment Murakami is talking about, I think.  Letting go of the mileage and just living in the physical process of putting one foot in front of the other. 

Wish me luck.

OMG

I did it. I ran 20 f*ing miles today.  The last two were really hard. I'm really tired.  Enjoy this while I take a nap.

misery is optional

Yes, my friends, I did decide to run after all. Here's the proof:


This was a PDR for me (personal distance record), and I'm so crazy proud of myself. Even though I hurt like hell last night, and I've got a bit of soreness in my hip, the fact that I rested Friday and Saturday really seemed to help. Ice on Friday, heat on Saturday and there were no twinges by Sunday. I decided to give it a try, promising myself that I'd quit if I started hurting. And admittedly, miles 12 through 14 were a bit painful, but the pain was in my right front groin to hip area and there was nothing to do but finish at that point, so I just kept on.  I always joke that, especially with out and back routes, once I turn around I'm like a horse headed back to the barn.  I'll just go and go and go until I get there.  The last four miles of this run were like that for me.  It's all bearable if I know there's lying down and chocolate milk waiting for me.  This works for me, and I'm hoping to use this in the marathon, which is point-to-point rather than out and back.  Which means that every step I take is one back to the barn.

I've been reading (off and on, haltingly) Haruki Murakami's book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, in which he says "Pain is inevitable. Misery is optional."  I definitely had this on my mind yesterday miles 12-14, and I've decided to use this as my mantra for this next phase of the training.  I'm going to hurt.  But what I do with that pain is up to me.  I can wallow in it, let it affect my attitude and my run.  Or I can acknowledge it, be aware of it, but run beside it.  This of course can backfire if you're actually injured, and you shouldn't be setting the pain aside, but I (mostly) know the difference between a tight muscle and an intense jabbing pain in my hind end.

I think it helped that I ran on dirt roads, and didn't have the camber that I usually deal with on asphalt, or the pounding that happens on a concrete trail.  I met one cow that had managed to get past her electric fence, a few dogs that were ambivalent to my presence on the road, even more that weren't (oh the jumping and the barking that went on (thankfully) behind fences), dropped my water bottle and had to backtrack for it, and discovered I don't like Gu Chomps.  The orange flavor tasted like an orange Ricola cough drop.  My go-to is still Cliff Shot Blocks, in case you care, which so far have been the only thing I'm able to choke down while running.  But all in all the run gets a thumbs up.  It was fairly quiet and traffic free, and almost every driver slowed down and moved way over when they came upon me.

If you're interested, you can check out the details with my Garmin data here: Garmin Connect - Activity Details for 3/7/10 14 Mile Run. The interesting thing about this data is you can see exactly where I jog back to get my water bottle, where I thought the cow was going to get me so I turned tail and went another direction.  I think the data is really cool.  I geek out over it all the time.

And now I'm going to try and keep my head off the desk at work today, and count the hours until my massage tonight.  Never was a massage more yearned for, at least by me.