Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Every day, at least a mile, no walking, no exceptions: Five years of daily streak running


October 28, 2018
Lawton, Oklahoma

1826 days ago, I was having a rotten night in the middle of a rotten season. It was Monday, one of my two rest days for running. Rest days were my worst days in this season, and suddenly, impulsively, I reasoned if rest days were too hard, I shouldn’t take them. I will start a running streak, I decided. Just like that. And the next day, I went out to run, and now, 1826 days later, I have not missed a day. 

This evening I rounded up my parents (for pictures!) and set off to run 5 miles to celebrate 5 years of daily running. I did stop for pictures at the first mile because that mile is when the streak counted. Then I went on and ran the other 4.

To celebrate I treated myself to new--old--shoes. Some who have known me a while remember Pink Magic. The Asics Gel Nimbus 14s were brand new in 2013 when they arrived around the day after Valentine's Day. All of a sudden, I felt like my feet could fly. Pink Magic became my closest companion. When the next year's model came out, Asics had changed the heel-to-toe drop from 8mm to 13mm. And I could tell the difference. As a result, I bought up every pair the previous model I could find. And I went through them like children do cookies. As I got close to the end of my supply, I saved one pair. It remained in my closet until my 5 year run. What better occasion would there be? And you know what? They felt, again, like magic. I've never found a comparable shoe.

Pink Magic

So I ran those 5 miles, after a rough year physically, unrelated to running. My mileage had dwindled, and my speed slowed some, but in my heart I knew if I wanted to run 5 miles, I could. So I did. It was a reminder of the miracle of my own body. 
____________________

Five years. Think back to every day you can remember over the last 5 years. Whatever day that was, I went for a run. Here’s what my numbers look like for the last 5 years:

·      5385.91 miles
·      2228 different activities
·      1826 days in a row



Some of my stats and PRs from my running history

But there is the stuff that can’t be quantified. Here are  5 Lessons learned in 5 years of daily running

1. There's not much you can't run through 

I suppose a broken leg might stop a streak, but really, we let ourselves give up long before we have to most of the time.  During the past five years, I’ve been fortunate to be in mostly good shape, as far as being able to run; however, I did have two bouts of some real sickness, which included pneumonia and sinus infections. Believe it or not, the sinus infections were harder to run with than pneumonia. Truthfully, the first round of sickness was the sickest I had ever been, and it seemed to really attack my body in a way  where I never totally got back to normal. Running became harder after that. My mileage has slowed down a bit and my distance isn’t quite as long. But you know what? While many people were wishing they were running, I was.



2. If you believe you can do it, you have done half the work;  running is a mental sport

I think back to the hardest day of all for me to run, April 23, 2017. I couldn’t have been much sicker. I started to run and my Garmin had not started, so .11 (I counted later) miles in, I had to restart (to have a qualified running streak, you have to be certain you actually run a mile). I sat on the grass and cried. It had taken me probably an hour to get up the strength to go—as it had most days of the sickness. I remember someone driving by and seeing me sitting there. She stopped and asked if I was okay. “Yes, thank you; I’m just taking a break.” It was the first time I considered giving up the streak. I was so sick, I knew no one would think anything of it. “Just try,” I told myself. You have to be sure. I waddled my little running legs to the track in Eisenhower Village (where my parents live). A man came out of the neighborhood, walking his dog. I knew I must look incredibly pitiful. But I didn’t care, suddenly, how I looked. As slow as I was running, as lame as I looked, I was winning a race most people wouldn’t even enter. I finished that incredibly slow run, and while I remained sick another week, no run was ever as hard as that one. Overcoming that and slugging through it was worth every bit of agony. And I knew it. I knew to quit right then would only increase how utterly down I was from this lengthy illness.

The running data for the slow run in the midst of being incredibly sick.


Running is a mental sport when you’re healthy too. My two most challenging runs were Grandma’s Marathonbecause, hello!—it was a marathon, which is 26.2 miles and the Fort Smith (AR) half marathon (because it was like running up a mountain for 11 miles and down, half a mile, then maybe the rest was sort of flat. I don’t even know how that makes sense with physics and geography and stuff, but when I saw the mile 4 mountain, I knew my brain needed the strength to run way more than my body. In the end, I ran every step of both the marathon and that half (and nine other half marathons). That means I never stopped to walk, tie a shoe, nothing. I wanted to walk during the marathon, but I knew if I walked a step, I would make myself do another, and if I ran it all, I could be sure I had completed the ultimate goal. So I ran. Every running accomplishment I have is a matter of will and mental strength, even more than physical. 

SO earned this!

Mid-marathon smile.

The moment I worked so hard for--and one that is mine forever. Becoming a marathoner!

Because I did it! 26.2 miles, and then some, running every single step.


3. Don't give yourself opportunity to regret

I know one day I might be wholly unable to run, and when that day comes, I want to look back on these days and know I took advantage of the fact I could run at will. I never want to regret not running when I had the chance. So I run.


Do it now. Whatever you’re dreaming of doing someday, do it now. And follow through. Often, especially as I have found myself with some health challenges in the last year or so, I have thought to myself, what if I couldn’t run anymore? I would regret not running when I was able to do so, and I know it. It’s something that applies to life in general. How much do we avoid doing because we aren’t sure or we want to wait for some billboard to tell us to? Unless there is a compelling reason not to, then take the chance. Don’t wake up one day in regret. 



4. You have time to do exactly what matters to you.

Do you have an hour or two a day with nothing scheduled? Maybe not, but let’s says you run an average mile—which could be 10, or even 15 minutes (speed does not determine if you ran it, running determines it!). We like to say we are so busy we just don’t have any time, but every time I see a question asking how we find time to run, I have the same simple answer. If you don't have 10 to 15 minutes a day, you are probably so busy you're making yourself sick. Everybody has 10 to 15 minutes a day, in fact, you were spending some of yours reading this right now. It would be more honest to say we don’t want to use our time to run (to be with that friend, to read that book, to hike through the woods) because it’s not a priority. I read something once where the writer suggested that instead of responding, “I don’t have time,” we should be responding, “it’s not a priority,” when it comes to most things. In short, the last 5 years, running has been a priority.


5. I understand the mail carrier

The unofficial motto of the US Postal Service reads:

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of  their appointed rounds.

They could say the same thing about run streakers too. And these five years, I have had many great runs, probably more bad runs, and some very unusual runs. My running stories are probably as diverse as you would expect in the fight to keep a streak alive 5 years. Every 24 hour period that constitutes a day in the time zone you are in means at least one continuous mile, or the streak is gone. So here are a few of my challenging runs:

* Running in circles on the 21st floor of a building in Jerusalem, several times! There simple wasn’t enough time to go down 21 floors, get across the street to a place not wall-to-wall people, run a mile, get back, go up, and shower—without taking precious time away from traveling all over the West Bank. So a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do! I turned on the Garmin, checked my step count, and watched the time—being sure I went over on all of the above (a mile is anywhere from 2000-2500 steps on my short legs, so I always went over 3000 and to at least 1.10 or 1.20 and made sure the time I spent was longer than even my slow sick runs). Since I was traveling with my parents, they often came downstairs in our rented apartment in Jerusalem and found me running in circles all over the small living and dining area. Of course they knew exactly what I was doing!  

* Time zones are tricky and other than being terribly sick that couple weeks in April 2017, the next challenge was how to maneuver a mile run when we had an overnight flight to Madrid before transferring to our flight to Tel Aviv. I ran on May 8 in Lawton, OK, but then suddenly it was May 9, and I was on an airplane. I didn’t dare sleep. I had worn clothes on the flight that included wicking fibers, Under Armor carpi joggers, sports bra, etc. I also had a good pair of compression socks on my legs, so I could run immediately upon landing from an international flight. In my overnight bag were baby wipes, a whole new outfit, and lots of prayers. The plan was to run in Madrid because we’d land in Tel Aviv in the early evening, and who knew how long that would take to get to the hotel (wise choice since I was detained by Israeli immigration officials—we arrived after dark). Hotels in Israel rarely have treadmills, so I knew Madrid was it. It was 2 a.m. Oklahoma time when we landed, so I would have been awake anyway. We had to recheck through security, then we went to our terminal, found our gate area, and once that was settled, I left my bags with the parental, put two Garmins on my wrist, and checked the step count on both as well! Then I took off running—trying to make it look like I was just casually coasting through, perhaps rushing back for a flight. If any official stopped me, it would have meant beginning again. Turns out no one cared, so I made my way through T4’s Satellite area in Madrid, up and down halls, a few people looking when I circles back and froth, but since I as obviously no threat, they didn’t care. I window shopped, and finally hit that magic mile marker—huge relief sweeping over me. I actually went a bit longer, to maybe 1.3, before I arrived back at my parents’ perch. The Madrid airport doesn’t have air conditioning in some parts, so I was a wet, soaked mess, even though it wasn’t hot. It took a long time to clean up, and I still felt gross, but now I only had to make it four hours to Israel. We got on our next flight—and I conked out so hard almost right away, and didn’t wake up until we were descending into Tel Aviv. My parents were eating a snack, which was served a while after the meal they had been served. I didn’t move the whole time. I still have no recollection of the flight. My body knew there were high stakes: the run. It used all its resources to keep me vigilant until it was complete. As soon as my body took the cue that it could relax, I was out. But I ran, despite losing 8 hours in the time change as well as being on an 8 hour flight. In the end, other than Madrid, I only had 4 actual hours of May 9 where I was on the ground. 

Pre-run, Madrid airport
Post-Run, Madrid airport

 I’ve run with wind gusts up to 50 mph, 40 mph sustained. I’ve run in -4 to -8 wind chills. I’ve run through snow, run on ice (they make shoe accessories for that!). I’ve run 10 half marathons, one full marathon, and so many 5ks and 10ks/quarter marathons that I couldn’t tell you. I have run in Missouri, Kansas, Arkansas, , Massachusetts, Minnesota, Texas, Oklahoma, Alabama, Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana. One day, I ran three times in three different states (Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana). I’ve run in 107 degrees, with heat indexes higher. I’ve run on my treadmill at midnight. I’ve run around lakes, up and down streets, through shopping centers, on the beach of the Atlantic, through Boston streets, and by Minnesota lakes. I’ve run loops around parking lots at midnight when the hotel treadmill was broken. I’ve run as a cold front passed over me, experiencing the awesomeness of a hot, humid run, turning utterly chilly. I’ve run with friends, run through pain, run through heartbreak, to celebrate. I've run to dispel anger. I’ve run for a sort of justice for myself—to be sure someone or something didn’t have control over me. I've run on business trips. I've run instead of eating lunch while at a conference. I've run in the middle of road trips by finding a track at a school and running 4 laps. There is very little I haven’t done to be sure I have completed my daily run.
 


Neither snow nor rain...



Because runners run. Period. That’s a phrase I have used all along. If you are a runner, you run. Your speed, your agility, your stride, your distance, that doesn’t make or not make you a runner. Running makes you a runner. Not a “jogger.” You’re either walking or you’re running, perhaps slower sometimes, but a run is a run is a run.

People have, of course, tried to tell me it’s not healthy to run every day. That’s a myth. I remember my coach in Kansas City, Jan Schmidt, a former competitive runner, a health professional with a master’s degree who has worked in a hospitals and taught in a university—I asked her when I first began if it would be a bad idea. She told me that it was more about mileage than it was how often I ran. I didn't up my mileage really, just my frequency. I assure you that running a mile a day on those semi-rest days is probably less strenuous than some of your errands or dinner parties on some of your own rest days.

Thanks, Jan! (Go see her at Blue Bicycle in Kansas City, MO!)

____________________


When I think about the five years that have passed, I am a bit amazed I've accomplished this. I can't think of much I have done for five years straight--if anything at all. That's a long time, yet it's actually gone by quickly.  Running has become a part of me; it's inseparable from the person called Suz. It is as natural as brushing my teeth, showering, checking my email, or doing laundry. It's just what I do.

To think that on October 28, five years ago, during one of the most difficult times of my life, I had a random thought that I would start a running streak really blows me away. I didn’t have an endgame. I’ve decided that as long as I was struggling through that time in my life, I would continue to run daily so I could assure myself that every day would have something good in it. That awful situation itself ended, became resolved, and life went on. And so did my running streak.  Five years later, the only think I can say for sure is that running is in the plans for tomorrow. 

Here are some pictures and a video from the big 5 for 5 run:







Posing for pictures, of course:




As I finished my five victory miles, I paused to take a picture of the beautiful evening sunset. I have had numerous sunset runs over the years, but this one held a special joy.




And of course, there must be celebration! My parents gave me cards and a balloon, and I enjoyed some cake later--because I'd already run it off!




















Sunday morning I woke up to an email from the United States Running Streak Association (I am member 1262. I have no idea how I lucked out and got a 262 in my number!), congratulating me on my five year anniversary. That moved me up a notch in the organization. Currently, in the U.S., I am ranked 466 in streak runners. The record holder had 52 years before he retired his streak, so if it seems amazing to you I have gotten this far, try to imagine that. The best part about being a member is that when the streak ends, I get to officially "retire" it so it stays alive, in a sense. My major goal was to make it to five years. But goals are made to be surpassed. 
 

Sunday, February 8, 2015

riding a roller coaster with my feet (half marathon #9)


Today I ran what I would say was the hardest race of my life. If you asked me whether my marathon was more difficult, I would hesitate before answering you. I’d probably say yes, but only for two reasons: In the marathon, my knee was really hurting and not braced, and it was twice the distance. But other than a hill (with a landing in the middle) at almost the end of the race it was flat.

When I finished, I did what I knew I shouldn’t. I walked to the grass and plopped myself down on my back. I’d deal with lactic acid build up later. I had to stop. Those sweet race people were so attentive. One wanted to be sure I was okay. I told her, yes, I just needed to stop for a minute. And another came to check too (perhaps I looked pitiful despite a strong finish?). One asked me if I wanted her to go get me a heat sheet for when I started getting cold (they are Mylar “blankets” that insulate). I had refused one because I was so hot, but this time I said “yes, please.” I realized that as hot as we had gotten (60s and sunny now—no real wind, which is not good when you are that hot), it was actually cool out and I would be shivering soon. I was light-headed at the end (that was a new one). My ear had gotten plugged up early in the race and never let up, so my equilibrium seemed, well, unequal. I forced a banana down (and I did take two gels on the course, as well as a bit of Gatorade—and I ate a full big bagel with cream cheese for breakfast, so nutrition was not the cause of being light-headed). My right ear gets plugged up a lot when I run, so I’m thinking I may talk to my doctor about this. I thought it was just sweat, but it’s always the same ear. Anyway, other than that, I was okay. On the first evil (and it was, indeed, evil) hill (mountain!), I realized that unlike my other half marathons. excepting the first, I was going to really feel this tomorrow. Rarely do I feel anything much the day after a half because I stay trained enough, at least with base mileage, that I can usually just go run a half without going through a 12-week training plan. Sometimes my quads or hamstrings are a bit sore, but I recover well. But the muscles we used to run what was, essentially, ten miles of hill repeats (without the slow jog or walk down), are not the same effort we may put on daily muscle use, even in running some hills. And also, running downhill is actually hard because to do it right, you need to exert control, and it’s work. I am not above taking the elevator to my office tomorrow! I didn’t even feel bad physically after my marathon, but I just have this feeling about tomorrow. OW!

Other than that, I decided to write about this mile-by-mile, recapturing some of what was going through my head. I have very few pictures to post this time because that took too much effort. I didn’t even want to deal with it. Staying focused was my only hope. I figured I would steal other people’s pictures. I sort of wish I had gotten one on the killer hill, just to prove how big and steep it was. But it was so big and steep, I couldn’t imagine fiddling for my phone. So this blog is mostly words. Here’s a play-by-play.


Pre-race: Woman behind me tells friend next to her that really the hills probably aren’t that bad, and the first one was likely the worst. She also said they were short. Woman behind me was a liar.


Lying woman in Fleet Feet yellow shirt.

Mile 1: Wow, this was a pretty decent turnout for a first race. This is a very pretty area.

Mile 2: I heard that lady at the start line saying that the first hill was probably the worst. Is that really it? I guess a lot of people don't ever run hills, so it seems steep to them.

Mile 3: Oh my gosh, another hill. Wait, do we have to run up that huge, long one I see ahead?

Mile 4: This is not a hill; this is a mountain. Running at Mt Scott was easier than this. I'm being led up a mountain. I paid to do this.

Mile 5: That was a really long mountain. Look! A turn! Oh, it's still going up. Exactly how high off the ground is the view of the city? How can we run this high up and not come down? Isn’t that, like, a law of physics or something?

Mile 6: The country club; we should hit the halfway mark here. The race director told me that after the halfway mark we would be rewarded with mostly downhill.

Mile 7: I take back every wish I ever had of running golf courses; I hate golf courses. They are roller coasters propelled by feet. It's still hilly. Finally, we’re off the golf course. It should start to be downhill now, right? Oh look, a newspaper was littered on the side of the road, but one page is ripped so we can see a headline. It says, “More women buying guns.” Yes, I think, to shoot race directors. I’m rationing my water. Wait! Is that a mirage, or is that little boy handing out bottles of water? “You are awesome!” I tell him as I take the bottle and let myself down the rest of my first bottle because now I have more than teeny 4 oz. cups they hand out. Little boy saves the race! He should get a mansion in heaven for that. Or something.

Mile 8: Okay, we got up the mountains. But why are we still going upwards, anyway? I saw a mile 9 on my way here this morning. We're almost there. It can't be that bad. But maybe I shouldn't drive home tonight. Maybe I should only drive partway and get a hotel, and drive straight to my class in the morning. I need a bath. A long Epsom salt soaking bubble bath. I don't want to sit in a car for 4 hours first.

Mile 9: Oh. I guess it doesn't start going downhill until mile 10? Mile 9 is uphill too (of course it is). So much for the reward of mostly downhill after the halfway mark. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” I think channeling my thoughts to the race director. But I'm sure it goes downhill at mile 10, right? I don't think I've ever hurt this much running a race. The marathon was only harder because of the knee injury and the distance. This is the hardest thing I've ever done in a race. This race is about survival, not running.

Mile 10: We're actually going down a little bit. Only with all that uphill running, now I have to control my quads going down, and that’s hard too. No coasting. This still hurts. I think it's always going to hurt. I have inflicted a lifetime of hurt on myself from one race. Also, the sky is falling.

Mile 11: This is the part of a race where I usually take out my camera and post a picture of the mile 11 marker, which means I'm home free. However, the extra effort to take the camera out would be too much. I didn't take a single evidentiary  photo to prove what this race was like. Also, I'm not sure I'm going to think I'm home free until I see mile 13. Hey wait? Where is the marathon winner? The fast marathon runners always run by me between mile 10 and 11. Is it possible that the winner hasn't even come in yet because of the challenging course?

Mile 12: You only have 1.1 miles left, Tyrrell. Hold on. Why does 1.1 miles seem like a whole half marathon? And why are we still going up—again?

Mile 13: They just made us run a block out-of-the-way we seemed to be headed? Do they hate us? Is this race actually a secret plot of revenge for something? And then there's a slight uphill after that? Where is that finish line!? All the people around me seem to be walking now—even with the finish line less than half a mile ahead, lots of them just walk, even though they were not walkers.  Even after they see the finish line. They continue to walk. Muscle atrophy is setting in. I'm still running; if I start walking, I'll just sit down. Must keep running. Must keep running until I cross the finish line. I have no idea how my time is. The mile 4 mountain made me realize time was irrelevant; no one was PRing today. Maybe the marathon winner died. He just ran off the mountain to stop the pain. They had 13.1 more miles of this. How could someone do that without being bionic? That’s it. They were all so exhausted they died. I’ve never run a half in tandem with a full where full winners didn’t come in ahead of me. But I was almost done, and time was irrelevant. The bragging rights in this race were actually running and finishing. I suspected my usual half times, always around 2:30, give or take a few minutes on either side, were way off. I didn’t care at all. I hear people! I see the finish line! I just have to keep my feet moving, leg up, leg down. People are screaming for me! They say I look strong;  “way to finish strong!” Clearly, I mask things well. I've never been so weak at the end of the race.

Mile .1: Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!  I just have to run until I feel the timing mat under my feet. Am I injured? Do I hurt unusually? No. There's nothing wrong with my body. Except that I've been running up mountains all day. Okay they were paved, but they felt like mountains.

The finish line: What, what? I did that in 2:32:50? (20 of 48 in my age group). For real? Give me that medal now! I'm glad it's so big, because I earned every bit of that giant medal. 



Flopping on the grass: Yes ma'am, I'm all right. I just need to stop for a minute. Yes, please. I would like a heat sheet for when I start shivering in a few minutes.

Post-flopping on the ground: I need someone to take my picture in front of that finish line. I crossed that finish line. I didn't even walk. I'm either crazy or a rockstar. Or dead. Maybe this is an out-of-body experience.

I look so happy. I think it's Runner Delirium.

"This one's got grit," the race tagline says. Um, that's not a strong enough word, but thanks.



 A few final notes:

First, let me issue a disclaimer: I generally run hills well. Rarely a day goes by that I am not going up and down hills. I run hilly routes often. Well, actually now I believe I will call them “slopey” instead. Because now I know what hills are. But wait! You may say. You have run the Kansas City Half Marathon twice, and the first 10 miles are hills. Well, yes, KC is hilly, but compared to Fort Smith, AR, the KC Half is a fun run. Not really, of course, but KC wasn’t hard, even though it was challenging. This was hard. It was the hardest race experience I’ve ever had. It was one where even at mile 12 I wasn’t sure I was home free. I’ve never prayed so much on a course (Shout out to FCA for the stream of Bible verses about strength and running around mile 11). I could not believe how hard it was. But I did it. I really did. I ran the whole way. I can’t even believe I ran the whole way. If I’d have seen that course previously, I’d have probably planned to run intervals. If I’d seen it before I registered, I may not have registered.

Let me issue another disclaimer, as well: The race was very well done. I am quite impressed that this as an inaugural race because it was as well done as many established races I have done. There was a minor glitch with the first one or two water stops, but if you’re going to have a glitch with water, that’s where you want it! The crowd support was fabulous (except on the never-ending golf course which was void of crowds, where I’m pretty sure I was dizzy from the roller coaster hills). I was impressed that so many people took their Sunday morning to cheer us on in a city that has never had a marathon and half marathon. Nice work, Fort Smith. You are good people. Everything was well-organized and professional. The post-race spread was phenomenal. As a race itself, I would recommend it to anyone, but not as a first race and not for one who didn’t do well on hills (and remember, I do pretty well on hills). In fact, I was really hoping it wasn’t a first half or full for some people (unless they planned well and knew the course because they run it locally) because it was so hard it might make them want to reconsider another! But to be fair, the course was billed as challenging and hilly. We knew. Only we didn’t know. Post-race, absolutely everyone I saw and heard and most of the Facebook posts too, say “it was the hardest race I’ve ever run” or something to that effect. I am not a person who runs for a medal, but that huge medal felt so great after that.
One more disclaimer, lest anyone think I am too serious, I don't really think people are liars, but I do sort of question where the RD got it in his head that the second half was downhill.  

EDIT: Results came out. The first place marathoner finished in 3:10. That's the first time I have ever run a half where the winning marathoner didn't pass me. This race was no joke.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

#becausemarathon (tips for first-timers)

A few of my friends will be running their first full marathon soon; one is doing it this weekend. I promised to write up a “what to expect.” This is that blog. These are things I found out about running a marathon. Some people told me, but the biggest effect of all, absolutely no one prepped me for (the one about hormones after the race). I have run exactly one marathon. I am not an expert, but I am fresh enough to remember these things—and to know that other people who maybe don’t know them could benefit from there. There’s a ton of great advice on good websites about running, but not as much where someone runs one and tells you what to expect, so this is that. One person’s view from one day. But what a good day it was.I hope this helps you guys a bit.

Also, my blog account of my marathon is here, if you want a play-by-play.



Before the race

Clothes-Lay all your clothes out the night before. You probably won’t sleep well, and certainly not long enough. Don’t let that psych you out. Study after study shows that does not decrease performance, and that the night before the night before is the one that matters most. If you have a Sunday marathon, Friday night, sleep as long as you can.

Carbs- For a marathon, carb loading is important (it’s not so much for 5Ks or 10Ks, for example). But it’s not just the night before. You should be eating good carbs all week. The night before, have a carb dinner like pasta or rice. Hold the sauces. A bit of olive oil and some seasonings are good, bread on the side. Marinara or Alfredo could cause you to relive the taste for 26.2 miles. A banana and bagel or half a bagel, for breakfast is good. Some don’t like to eat. If you can’t eat much, go with the banana (a good source of energy). Avoid dairy before. Eat your dinner early (like 5) so that you can digest it and get rid of it before the race!

Yes, you have to go- Use the porta-potties as close to start time as you can. Of course they’re gross. Guess what? They are way grosser at mile 18 when lots of people have used them.

New is not cool- Don't try anything new on marathon day. Don’t wear new socks, or anything that touches your skin (a sweatshirt to throw off later because it's cool is okay, but not the bra and shirt underneath). And especially do not try new foods. This is not the time to eat that awesome dessert you always wanted to try. Eat it for a post-race victory celebration. Also, it should go without saying, but don’t drink the night before.

Aquaphor is your BFF- Before you put your socks on, rub all of your feet with Aquaphor, which is even better than Vaseline. Try this before race day (nothing new). It feels weird for a few minutes, but it will help prevent some blisters. Also use it where your bra rubs, if you're female; if you have chafed a lot in the past, use it wherever that chafing has been. While I'm at it, if you have had any issues in long runs (I had a sore knee and  knew it wasn't an injury but the strain), don't be afraid to wear a compression brace (that you have tried before). I only had pain on long runs, so I didn't think to wear mine. I regretted that.

The expo- Don't walk around too much at the expo. You need that energy in your legs. Starting a marathon with tired muscles is bad. If you travel to race, don’t do sightseeing until after the race. The walking will take its toll. 



Water and nutrition

Nutrition during the race-
Consider carrying your own water and gels. Also, consider carrying a little packet of Advil. You shouldn't take it right at the start, but it will help you with your recovery if you take it about an hour before you get to the finish line; it will kick in around when you finish, and the long walk back to the car will be a bit better.


Take gels and other energy sources before you feel the need for them. I was amazed when I watched the Boston Marathon one year, and I saw all the elite runners take their first nutrition at the 10K mark and then every 5K after that for the race duration. You know they didn't feel like they needed it, but they wanted to keep their body running strong. Of course they run much faster than us mere mortals, but it's not a bad rule of thumb to follow. If your stomach is used to gels, taking one every hour or so is a good idea. If you’re offered a banana at a stop, take it. The marathon will most likely not have a gel or food for you every hour; most have two gel spots, or even one. You don't want to lose precious time if the gel line is crowded or the water line is crowded. This is very typical in large marathons. You either have to stop, or go without.

I generally carry a very light and easy collapsible water bottle in distance races (though a hydration belt can work) and when I can reach the water stops where I can get water without losing time, I pour the water directly into the bottle to replenish it; it’s much easier to drink from than those mini cups, too. The bottle clips onto my running belt whenever I want to empty it, so I clip it at the end, so I can still run through with my hands in the air :-)


More nutrition during the race- Whatever nutrition you think you need, bring it along. If you do handle gels well (which you should have figured out before your marathon), they are the simplest way to get a pretty fast burst of carbohydrates and caffeine. (There are caffeine-free ones if that bothers you, but caffeine has been shown to improve performance—legally!). They take about 15 minutes to really work, which is why you have to take them before you start feeling like you're crashing. (I like the "Just Plain" GUs because there is no sweet flavor that might make me feel I am inhaling sugar. I just take the gel and wash it down with water, no weird after tastes or flavors.)


Why nutrition will make or break you- The human body is only designed to go about 20 miles. That's why the marathon is such an important event than only .05% of Americans have completed. My coach had told me before mine that in the past decades, the reason so many runners hit the wall at mile 20 is because we didn't know then what we know now about nutrition. We burn about 100 calories a mile, and our bodies store about 2000 calories at a time. Therefore, your glycogen stores run out at mile 20, if you don't fill them up as you go—before they run out—you will “hit the wall.” It's basic physiology, and unless you're an elite marathoner or one who knows all of your limits for 26.2, follow science. It works. Marathon day is not the time to experiment with such a crucial thing.


During the race


Take a few pictures (or more)- It’s worth it. Carry your phone in a bag where you can get to it. I wear an Amphipod belt (you can buy one at the expo if you end up without  a belt, but run a bit in it to be sure it's adjusted right. I can clip Fuel Belt water bottles on it, and stick gels and Advil (and even a caffeine pill) in it. And my phone fits nicely. So it’s a matter of pulling it out and shooting a picture. I am rather picture happy and so I did what I do for most half marathons or long races. Every mile I took a picture of the mile marker and then a selfie. It’s dorky but cool. A couple pictures, my selfies were with Brian and Melissa or Eldon (my other friend—who was already my friend before the race).  Take some. But that leads me to the battery question. For mine, I bought a battery extender (it’s for sale for an iPhone 5 or 5s, by the way! It doesn’t fit my 6.) They are pricey, but I bought one that had some discount. It wasn’t the best on the market, but it was a wireless charger, and it worked. I finished the marathon with power left. My Garmin died before my phone.  (They retail around $100 or more, but I got mine for about half that. Ask around in your cell phone store; they can often give you a discount too). Totally worth it. It’s one memory, one day. You can’t ever have a first marathon again. Take advantage of every moment.


Don’t go out too fast- The excitement overtakes you in these moments. You start running, you think “Wow, I feel good!” You pass the half mark and think you feel better than you did when you ran all your half marathons, so you pick it up. And then at mile 18, you find yourself walking where you didn’t plan to. Part of the challenge of a marathon is being able to carry your endurance the whole way. If you have a Garmin or other GPS device, watch your pace. It shouldn’t be much faster than you expect. You should know your expected finish time. If you get to mile 20 and can push more, great. If you are taking in food and drink well enough, you should have energy to make it. It is better to push less and finish than too push too hard and have to sit down because you feel sick.


Enjoy the process- Don't get hung up in how hard it is, or how bad you feel. It is hard, and it will be uncomfortable. Keep the determination in your mind, trust your training, and every once in a while tell yourself, “I'm running a marathon. I'm really running a marathon!” One of the most surprising parts of my marathon was when we got to mile 20, where people are known to hit the wall and think they can’t make it, I got a second wind and a runner’s high because I knew I was at that pivotal mark in the marathon, and I was still going. Do not think about how far you have to go. It's easy at mile 20, for example, to think, “oh my gosh! I have to run a full 10K more and I’m so tired, and my back hurts, and there’s a hill ahead.” You’ll think of 10Ks you've run in the past and how long they were. Don't do that! Focus, instead, on thinking “Oh my gosh! I’ve run 20 miles! I’m still going!” If you showed up to the starting line of a marathon, you most likely have done the training. Your body is ready, and the saying is actually true, it's your mind you have to work on.


About the pain and difficulty- Listen, it may be very painful, or it may not. My back hurt some as I got into the 15-16 mile range, and my knee was definitely hurting because I hadn't braced it, but I didn't feel any incredible pains anywhere. I never had to stop. You feet will probably hurt. Think about it, if you walk around shopping for a few hours, your feet and back probably hurt some. The constant repetition on your feet will hurt. You will adjust your footfall to try to get relief. It may even make you want to stop and walk. The thing is, every time I thought that, I realized that would extend the time on my feet. No.


Some people say you shouldn't walk down the stairs because you feel like you're dying, that going up is easier, but avoid stairs altogether. That didn't happen to me at all. I got up the next day and ran a mile. My body ached some, but not horribly. I never went through any horrible pains or strains. For a couple days I felt it, but honestly, I hurt more after my first half marathon than my marathon. Of course, your results may vary, but don't imagine the worst because it might not happen. Plan for it, plan to pamper yourself if you need it, but don’t imagine that it’s the worst and you will be in pain for a week. Some people say the marathon is the hardest thing they have ever done. I can’t say that. It was not easy, by any means. I could not go out and do one today, but I have done harder things. This was less hard because it was so joyful. But honestly, if you are trained, your body is ready for it. Barring injury mid-race, expect the best. The worst for me it was definitely the emotional ups and downs from the messed up hormones and cells.

Focus on the finish- Imagine the moment that you're going to cross the finish line, and even at the beginning, you're only hours away from that moment. Another common saying with the marathon is that you've already done the work and the 26.2 miles is the celebration of that. This is true, too.

In your first marathon, time does not matter. Finishing matters. Don't focus on the time or you might over-pace yourself and run out of energy.

I only had one person at my marathon cheering me on because I went out of state. But that person (Joyce, amazing Joyce) mapped out a route where she could drive to various points, and she managed to appear out of the blue at least four times and still get to the finish line to see me cross.  She would jump out with a new sign when I didn't know she would be there, and my face lit up. That helps so much. You need people there. And if there's any way they can appear at various points and map out what roads are opened and closed to be able to drive to the next one, plan that out. You need people before you get to the finish line to help you get to the finish line. If you don't have people, and you are running a large marathon, the fans will be the most incredible thing you've ever seen and will help. They'll randomly call out your name if it's on your bib, cheer you on, scream for you and act like you're the greatest celebrity in the world. They're amazing.



Other runners- Inevitably you will see some of the same runners over and over because you are at about the same pace. I met my friends Brian and Melissa that way. We ran 26.2 miles together—and much of it was together. We talked a lot. Talk to people. 4-6 hours or so is a very long time to be alone doing something hard. You will miss out on some of the joy of the race if you don’t talk to people—whether it’s the same people like I did, or just a few different people you see. Ask them stuff: What do they do? Is this their first marathon? Where do they live? Have a conversation. A few miles of my race were blurs because I was walking and running. Remember, you’re not trying to break speed records in a marathon if you are not competitive. For most, a marathon pace is also one where you can talk easily. Do it.
After the race

Expect your hormones to go wacky- I don't know that it happens to everyone, but I do know it’s common, especially for first-time marathoners. I was stunned at what my body and mind were doing afterwards. A Facebook friend of mine who is an ultra-marathoner or told me that it was normal and that your cells and hormones go out of whack in a marathon because of the stress on the body, that you cause trauma to the body. For a first marathon, it would be better to expect this to happen and just be thankful if it doesn't. It really messed with me.  For three solid days after I got home, I was nauseated and as emotional as pregnant women say they are. I would be amazingly high one moment that I had done this awesome thing, and then suddenly I would start crying. It was insane. I felt a bit insane. It tapered off after three days and was only here and there. By the end of the week that part was back to normal.


Until you feel normal again, do not make any major decisions, or put yourself in a place where you might have to be part of something major. Three days later you might feel differently. Let yourself stabilize first.


To help your body settle, have Gatorade type drinks on hand at home And start drinking it after the race as well) to help neutralize and re-balance your system. Coconut water will help, if you prefer that. So will ginger ale. Also, you should probably take some extra doses of vitamin C and vitamin D--even before the race. I got a cold almost immediately after coming home, and I expect that part of it came from my physical weaknesses.

Sleep- I am a chronic insomniac, and I could not stay awake past 10 or so the many days after (again, cellular trauma need recovery). Plan out time to sleep, and possibly even expect to be in bed reading and--bam!--the next thing you know it's morning! I liked this side effect because I do have trouble sleeping, but was also was odd and threw me.

Buy the pictures- I don’t care how expensive they are. Buy them. Relive your moments. Frame some, put them on Facebook. You worked months for this moment. You just became part of an incredibly small group called “marathoners.” It’s a big deal.




Other people- Lots of people think every race is a marathon. They don’t get what you have been doing, how many runs you did in bad weather, or feeling yucky, how many Saturday mornings you missed lounging around, all so you could beat your body into the right training to endure one of the ultimate tests of endurance. Remind yourself that non-runners don’t usually get it. Don’t let yourself be hurt (so in those first three days or so while you are all emotional, if someone says, “oh, cool, but is it really that hard?” then bite your tongue and respond to them Friday. And tell me! I absolutely love hearing people’s race stories. I care about all those little details that even your family doesn’t get. If you are not a part of the Facebook group called Runner’s Corner, join it. It’s so positive and encouraging. That group celebrated my many pictures, race recap, etc. I had something pretty rotten happen after my race, and that FB group kept me going with joy over it the race. It’s vitally important to surround yourself with those types of people, even online. (Plus I have made some actual real life friends from that group when I have met them at races.)


Sign up for a race- When you get back, sign up for another race right away (though the race won’t be right away), even if it’s a 5K (give yourself 2-4 weeks before you race again, and most would say 3-4, but of course I did a race the next week because I’m a dork! I was slower than normal but won first in my age group!) If you don’t have a race to work on, even slowly, you can easily get caught up in recovery, having our time back, and getting out of the running groove.


About recovery time- There is a lot of information online. Read it, but listen to your body. It actually helps your recovery if you run a slow mile or two the next day. I know some people who don’t run at all for two weeks. If your body says that, then listen. But if you feel great three days later and want to run, then run. If the run starts hurting or feeling too strained, then walk. No two people are alike; therefore, no one can tell you exactly how long you need to recover. You must listen to your body.


Buy it- That 26.2 sticker or magnet. You earned it if you finished. It’s an unwritten rule of running that you never put those on your car if you didn’t do it. It is like a secret handshake. When I see one, it makes me smile at the car (even f it cut me off!) and smile at the memories of mine.


Finally- I voice dictated a lot of this as I was driving just so I would have my thoughts to edit later, and I still get teary-eyed as I'm saying it. When I think of some of the things like crossing the finish line or the surprise euphoria at mile 20, or seeing Joyce  jump out of the blue, I really don't remember the pain or where it hurt or any of that. I only remember the victory. I have never had a child, but it does sound the way the people describe childbirth, although I'm quite sure that the pain of childbirth is much worse.


Also, wear your finisher shirt a lot because you will feel like a rock star. #becausemarathon



Savor the moments of the marathon so you can savor the memory