Well, it didn't last long. I've signed up for the Delaware Marathon, which is only 6 weeks away. I'm not running it as a fundraiser*; this one's for me. I figure I've already got the long distance fitness in me, and the race is less than 20 minutes from my house. Also, my running buddy is running it, so we'll get to do it together. I'm going to wait to set goals to see how I recover from the Shamrock Marathon. So, let the insanity begin again!
* Of course, if you didn't have the chance to donate last time, here's your opportunity!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
$1,915.20
Unbelievable, that's all I have to say. In just a few short months, we raised almost $2000 to provide research to help cure and treat NMO. I am grateful for your generous support, both financial and otherwise. I am particularly thankful for Tulaloo, whose promotion brought in over $300. Those of you who took part in that promotion have the opportunity to enjoy some beautiful stationery knowing that they also performed an act of generosity.
While the race is over, the search for better treatment options is far from it. I hope you will remember Guthy-Jackson in your future charitable donations. Don't worry, I plan to run another fundraiser in the future--maybe if I ever qualify for Boston!--so I'll be sure to remind you of the valuable work that the Foundation does for this debilitating disease.
Thank you again for taking part in this fundraiser and for coming along with me on the journey.
While the race is over, the search for better treatment options is far from it. I hope you will remember Guthy-Jackson in your future charitable donations. Don't worry, I plan to run another fundraiser in the future--maybe if I ever qualify for Boston!--so I'll be sure to remind you of the valuable work that the Foundation does for this debilitating disease.
Thank you again for taking part in this fundraiser and for coming along with me on the journey.
Monday, March 21, 2011
On to the Next One
Well, that's it. The race is over, and this is likely the penultimate post. There will probably be one more post with the final fundraising tally. I met my running goal of coming in under 4 hours with a final time of 3:59:04! That's 40 minutes faster than my last marathon, which I ran when I was in my 20s.
The morning started out very cold, and runners shivered an extra 15 minutes at the start line due to traffic problems. The shivering made my muscles tight right at the start. After the first half hour or so, the weather warmed up, and so did I. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. There were high headwinds--about 17 mph--but although they probably slowed me down a bit, I really didn't notice them. I started out a bit too fast; one of my early miles was under 8 minutes! That's probably why my calves cramped up into tight balls about 6 miles in. Somewhere around mile 7, there were rows of uniformed military personnel lining the course and cheering loudly and giving high fives, so that helped me push through the pain. Still, when I saw Josh and Cora between miles 11 and 12--which also happened to be when the 3:40 BQ pace group slipped ahead of me--I told them that I didn't think I was going to finish the race. I was almost in tears, my legs were just not working, and every step took incredible effort and will. Josh ran next to me with the stroller and told me that he knew I could do it, that he'd seen me run through pain like this before, and that he'd see me at the finish line. There is no way I would have finished the race without his pep talk.
I pulled back my pace a bit, and after a few miles, my legs started working better, though the pain had moved from my calves to my knees and quads. I still came in at just about BQ time at the first half, which shattered my PR for a half marathon! Too bad it doesn't count, since it's part of a longer race. The second half was slower, but the crowd support was great, and there were water stands everywhere. The Shamrock Marathon is incredibly well-organized and fun, and I would highly recommend it to any auspicious runners. There were some sections that were a little boring: long straight stretches up steady--though not too steep--inclines with little crowd support, by the fort, for example. But the boardwalk finish and the post-race party on the beach with all you can drink Yuengling and good Irish music more than made up for it!
We had a long drive home (Josh did, that is) after the race, and my legs tightened up again as a result. I could barely move them last night, even having to lift my legs up with my hands to get them into bed. I got a lovely massage this morning and relaxed in the hot tub at the gym, and I've done a little light walking, which helps quite a bit. I'm still wearing my medal, which stops some of the funny looks due to my hobbling.
I thought I would feel disappointed if I didn't BQ, but I don't. I feel proud of my sub-4 hour accomplishment, of course, but more importantly, I feel warm and fuzzy thinking about all of the support so many of you have given me and my mom and the Guthy-Jackson Foundation. Whenever I got tired on the course, I would think of that support, and I would feel the sea breezes lifting me up and pushing me forward. During many of the miles of this marathon, I wondered what I was thinking signing up for it and decided I would never run another run. Already at the finish line, however, I listened to Jay-Z's "On to the Next One," and started plotting my next step on the road to Boston. I'll get there, and I'll probably use my next race not only as another attempt to qualify, but also as another opportunity to raise money for the Foundation. Thank you all so much for your support!
The morning started out very cold, and runners shivered an extra 15 minutes at the start line due to traffic problems. The shivering made my muscles tight right at the start. After the first half hour or so, the weather warmed up, and so did I. The sun was shining, and it was a beautiful day. There were high headwinds--about 17 mph--but although they probably slowed me down a bit, I really didn't notice them. I started out a bit too fast; one of my early miles was under 8 minutes! That's probably why my calves cramped up into tight balls about 6 miles in. Somewhere around mile 7, there were rows of uniformed military personnel lining the course and cheering loudly and giving high fives, so that helped me push through the pain. Still, when I saw Josh and Cora between miles 11 and 12--which also happened to be when the 3:40 BQ pace group slipped ahead of me--I told them that I didn't think I was going to finish the race. I was almost in tears, my legs were just not working, and every step took incredible effort and will. Josh ran next to me with the stroller and told me that he knew I could do it, that he'd seen me run through pain like this before, and that he'd see me at the finish line. There is no way I would have finished the race without his pep talk.
I pulled back my pace a bit, and after a few miles, my legs started working better, though the pain had moved from my calves to my knees and quads. I still came in at just about BQ time at the first half, which shattered my PR for a half marathon! Too bad it doesn't count, since it's part of a longer race. The second half was slower, but the crowd support was great, and there were water stands everywhere. The Shamrock Marathon is incredibly well-organized and fun, and I would highly recommend it to any auspicious runners. There were some sections that were a little boring: long straight stretches up steady--though not too steep--inclines with little crowd support, by the fort, for example. But the boardwalk finish and the post-race party on the beach with all you can drink Yuengling and good Irish music more than made up for it!
We had a long drive home (Josh did, that is) after the race, and my legs tightened up again as a result. I could barely move them last night, even having to lift my legs up with my hands to get them into bed. I got a lovely massage this morning and relaxed in the hot tub at the gym, and I've done a little light walking, which helps quite a bit. I'm still wearing my medal, which stops some of the funny looks due to my hobbling.
I thought I would feel disappointed if I didn't BQ, but I don't. I feel proud of my sub-4 hour accomplishment, of course, but more importantly, I feel warm and fuzzy thinking about all of the support so many of you have given me and my mom and the Guthy-Jackson Foundation. Whenever I got tired on the course, I would think of that support, and I would feel the sea breezes lifting me up and pushing me forward. During many of the miles of this marathon, I wondered what I was thinking signing up for it and decided I would never run another run. Already at the finish line, however, I listened to Jay-Z's "On to the Next One," and started plotting my next step on the road to Boston. I'll get there, and I'll probably use my next race not only as another attempt to qualify, but also as another opportunity to raise money for the Foundation. Thank you all so much for your support!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Goals Met, Goals Remaining
The official report from Guthy-Jackson this week is $1520.20. Couple that with almost $300 from Tulaloo, and we sailed right by three different goals ($500, $1000, $1500). There's still a little time, so feel free to donate and bring us even closer to $2000!
I always have a three-tiered goal for races. My minimum goal is to PR, to get a personal best that beats my last marathon time of 4:40 (that's 4 hours, people). My realistic, but challenging goal is to beat 4 hours. Oprah and P Diddy both did it, so why not me? My dream goal, that is not entirely out of reach, is to BQ, which is 3:40. Look for a report in two days!
I always have a three-tiered goal for races. My minimum goal is to PR, to get a personal best that beats my last marathon time of 4:40 (that's 4 hours, people). My realistic, but challenging goal is to beat 4 hours. Oprah and P Diddy both did it, so why not me? My dream goal, that is not entirely out of reach, is to BQ, which is 3:40. Look for a report in two days!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield
I recently learned that, according to BBC online, "The last line of Tennyson's monologue Ulysses, 'to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield', will serve as inspirational words for the world's athletes when they come to London for next year's [Olympic] games." As it turns out, that famous line is also the quote on our geocaching stamp. For those of you who aren't high-tech treasure hunters, geocaching involves using a GPS to track down caches that people have hidden. The main point, for us, is the adventure. So the quote, while inspirational, is a bit tongue-in-cheek in the context of geocaching.
In the context of marathon running, however, it is not. Striving and never yielding are critical throughout the training and race. But what about seeking and finding? Because of the taper this week, I've had more time to reflect on just what exactly it is that I am looking for when I strap on my shoes and pound the pavement for several hours every week. Those of you who know I'm an English literature graduate student will probably not be surprised that I turned to the rest of the poem to find an answer. This post is going to be a little dense, but I hope you come along with me on the journey--and maybe even read the whole poem! (For my Victorianist friends, please forgive any misreadings.)
The poem's a dramatic monologue about the last days of the famous Greek hero, Ulysses, known for fighting heroically in battle, encountering wild adventures on the way back to Ithaca, and arriving home after a long and tiring 10-year voyage only to find his wife hotly pursued by several suitors--whom he shoots dead with a bow and arrow before revealing himself to her. Tennyson's telling of this story features Ulysses in his old age, still filled with the desire to travel and to have adventures, despite his failing health and his happy reunion with his wife and son. In the following passage, Ulysses reflects on his desire to explore:
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things.
Tennyson's portrayal of Ulysses is vexed. Is Ulysses heroic? Or is he foolishly dissatisfied with the life he fought to retrieve? Is his striving meaningless and problematic? Or is his desire to explore the "untravelled world" and to keep moving until the end of his days admirable? Many people choose to read his character in a negative light, or with pity. Yet I can't help but identify with his yearning to fill his life with movement and "new things." Why pause just because you're old, or tired, or sore, or suffering? Why not live every moment beyond the bounds of your everyday "experience"? Why not "shine in use"? I see Ulysses as trying to stave off stagnancy and even death ("eternal silence") with his desire to "move." Ulysses also sees this desire to "work"--even at the "end" of one's energy or life--as "noble":
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world."
Ulysses's belief that something noble can be done before "the end" inspires me. And the series of sentences that begins, "The long day wanes," is just so beautiful I can't stand it. The day, the moon, and therefore time are all active, while he's forced to be still yet to long for movement, for "a newer world." His will to "seek" is tragic, yet beautiful; sad, yet noble. He is not defined by his suffering or by his stillness, but by his ability to transform them into beauty. He may not be moving in this poem, but he moves us.
The poem ends with an acknowledgment of loss that becomes a swan song; true to his warrior character, he will not go down without a fight. He turns his moment of struggle into a moment of transcendence:
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
The poem does not allow us to pity Ulysses. He is too "strong in will," even though he no longer has the strength to move "earth and heaven." We know that even though he reflects on the past, he does not dwell in it; instead, he recognizes, "that which we are, we are." The strength of his "heroic heart" is the driving force of the poem. He refuses to be defined by the limitations of his body or his age. He is unyielding, unapologetic. He does not pity himself or ask us for pity.
So, I'm not yet old (although my students might beg to differ), and I was never a hero, so what does this poem have to do with this race? I'm inspired by his ability to push beyond his physical limitations, and more, to find beauty in them. Part of the allure of running for me is in taking pleasure in struggle, enjoying the friction of bumping up against my physical limitations, of locating my will as the source of my true strength.
The other half of this equation is my mom. Her "heroic heart" inspires me. She will never "rust unburnished, not to shine in use." She moves others even when she struggles to move herself. And she has always instilled in me the desire to pile life on life, to live fully and meaningfully every day.
Only a few days remain, and I'm fighting off a cold--and, worse, so is Cora. I hope that our strong wills can push aside these cooties. We will not yield!
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Dog Days Are Over
"Run fast for your mother / run fast for your father" is the chorus of Florence and the Machine's hit song "The Dog Days Are Over," a song that a wise and supportive friend suggested that I add to my running playlist. I always think of marathons as two ten mile runs followed by a 10K race, and I've positioned this upbeat song at the very end of the second ten miler, just before I dig in for the final 6.2 miles. For me, the song celebrates the hard work of slogging through the Wall--and of slushing through the winter snow--and it propels me when my legs are tired. Its lyrics remind me of a central source of inspiration for running the marathon: running fast for my mother.
Dog days are typically the hottest days of summer, so metaphorically they signify an unproductive or sluggish time. With spring peeping its daffodil bulbs out of the cold, hard ground, I wonder if we could think of the frozen winter season as inverted "dog days." In the winter, it's easy to cuddle up in a Snuggie and hibernate. This winter, however, I was lucky enough to find a reason to keep moving even on the coldest, wettest days. During my last long run today--a mere 8 miles that I would have struggled to finish last fall--I realized that the dog days are over, and even better, that they weren't really dog days at all.
This insight charged me with renewed energy and helped me run stronger and faster than I had intended to run today. My delight in running also helped me to remember that I'm not just running for my mother. I'm running because I can. I like the way my endorphins pump through me after a run--even a slow or short or bad run. I like feeling my heart and legs grow stronger, and I like having the time to clear my mind and to reflect. Running makes me feel good. And I'm grateful that I have the time and ability to do it.
With only one week and two very short runs to go before the big race, I'm becoming nervous and excited. I'm not sure if I'll accomplish any of my running goals, but I know that's not really why I'm running. I've already experienced the two most important reasons for training for this marathon: the first is my pleasure in the training runs themselves, and the second is exceeding my fundraising goals. With $1,422.20 raised and an additional $200+ raised by Tulaloo, we have left in the dust our latest goal of $1500. From here on out, I won't set any new goals; it's time to taper! But if you want to celebrate my momma and to help find a cure for NMO, there's still time to make a donation to Guthy-Jackson or to buy notecards from Tulaloo.
Dog days are typically the hottest days of summer, so metaphorically they signify an unproductive or sluggish time. With spring peeping its daffodil bulbs out of the cold, hard ground, I wonder if we could think of the frozen winter season as inverted "dog days." In the winter, it's easy to cuddle up in a Snuggie and hibernate. This winter, however, I was lucky enough to find a reason to keep moving even on the coldest, wettest days. During my last long run today--a mere 8 miles that I would have struggled to finish last fall--I realized that the dog days are over, and even better, that they weren't really dog days at all.
This insight charged me with renewed energy and helped me run stronger and faster than I had intended to run today. My delight in running also helped me to remember that I'm not just running for my mother. I'm running because I can. I like the way my endorphins pump through me after a run--even a slow or short or bad run. I like feeling my heart and legs grow stronger, and I like having the time to clear my mind and to reflect. Running makes me feel good. And I'm grateful that I have the time and ability to do it.
With only one week and two very short runs to go before the big race, I'm becoming nervous and excited. I'm not sure if I'll accomplish any of my running goals, but I know that's not really why I'm running. I've already experienced the two most important reasons for training for this marathon: the first is my pleasure in the training runs themselves, and the second is exceeding my fundraising goals. With $1,422.20 raised and an additional $200+ raised by Tulaloo, we have left in the dust our latest goal of $1500. From here on out, I won't set any new goals; it's time to taper! But if you want to celebrate my momma and to help find a cure for NMO, there's still time to make a donation to Guthy-Jackson or to buy notecards from Tulaloo.
Monday, March 7, 2011
It's Never Easy
The other day, my husband referred to my 12 mile training run, saying, "Remember how 12 miles used to be really hard, and now it's easy for you!" I quickly responded, "No, it's never easy." Every mile that I run is work, hard work. I'm not a natural runner, no long gazelle legs here. Each mile presents its own challenges, and sometimes a 4 mile run can be harder than a 10 miler.
As I wrap up my training with less than two weeks until the big day, I realize that a big difference (among many quite obvious ones) between the pain and effort of distance running and the struggle with Devic's is that I choose to run, it's good for me even when it hurts, and I can stop at any time. I get to have control over the toll taken on my body, and I get to have rest days. Part of the reason that I run so much is that it helps me in a tiny way understand what my mom is suffering, but of course I know that I can never do that. What I can do, however, is continue to appreciate the work that my body can do each time I push through a stubbornly difficult mile. I can enjoy the feeling of muscles working and heart beating. I can be grateful that I have the choice and the freedom to run. And these thoughts can propel me forward.
We are within $300 of our $1500 goal. Please consider donating to Guthy Jackson, either by a direct donation to them (http://www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/) or by purchasing notecards at Tulaloo (http://tulaloo.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-we-live-in-devics-disease.html).
As I wrap up my training with less than two weeks until the big day, I realize that a big difference (among many quite obvious ones) between the pain and effort of distance running and the struggle with Devic's is that I choose to run, it's good for me even when it hurts, and I can stop at any time. I get to have control over the toll taken on my body, and I get to have rest days. Part of the reason that I run so much is that it helps me in a tiny way understand what my mom is suffering, but of course I know that I can never do that. What I can do, however, is continue to appreciate the work that my body can do each time I push through a stubbornly difficult mile. I can enjoy the feeling of muscles working and heart beating. I can be grateful that I have the choice and the freedom to run. And these thoughts can propel me forward.
We are within $300 of our $1500 goal. Please consider donating to Guthy Jackson, either by a direct donation to them (http://www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/) or by purchasing notecards at Tulaloo (http://tulaloo.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-we-live-in-devics-disease.html).
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