Colon Cancer Challenge 15K

Two days before the Colon Cancer Challenge was to take place, I found myself wishing I had selected the 4-mile option instead of the hefty 15K (9.6 miles). Yes, I had run 9 miles two weeks earlier, but I just didn’t feel really ready to tackle the 15K in a race setting. Still, I suited up that Sunday morning and headed out to Central Park.

The option to move to the 4 mile race was still there, and, as I saw, many people had taken that option. I was one of 6 people in my corral! That was scary, to say the least, but it was nice to get closer to the starting line by moving up a few corrals.

The race consisted of nearly two laps around the lower part of the park. Heading up the east side, instead of continuing up into Harlem territory (where the infamous, torturous “Harlem Hill” looms) we cut across the 102^nd street transverse, down the west side, back around the bottom, repeated the top, before shooting in the 72^nd street transverse to the finish.

I won’t lie, this race was extremely hard for me. Central Park is extremely hilly and even though I have done all of my training there, those hill still get me. 

I didn't have a good start. Could have been nerves, or the fact that the race began at 10:30am (instead of the usual 7:00-8:00 start times) giving me ample time to eat a decent breakfast. I don't run well when there is food in my stomach. This one was not planned well. 

Being in the back, I didn't really have to worry about maneuvering around people, and I didn't have to worry about people needing to go around me, so I was able to focus on keeping my posture upright and breathing deeply through the stomach cramps. The cramping seems to come about when I stop paying attention to what I'm doing (trying the "just run!" philosophy) and I stop breathing correctly. In fact, I actually hold my breath while exercising if I'm not paying attention!  Who does that? Really! Well, apparently, I do that. So I consciously breathe in, breathe out... breathe in, breathe out... repeat. 

It's a strange thing; when you actually have to think about breathing, since it is something that is supposed to come naturally, but I'm getting used to it. Hopefully once it becomes second nature, I can actually "just run" like everyone tells me to.

I had a lot of cramping in the beginning. I think I walked the most during those first three miles! I was getting really discouraged about how poorly I had started, so I took some water, stepped off the road, stretched out my legs a bit and recomposed.

Getting back on the road 10-15 seconds later, I felt better. I decided that no matter the outcome, I was going to finish this race. Sometimes, I wonder why I'm doing this. When it's cold outside, when the wind is blowing, when it's 7:00 in the morning, when everything in my body is telling me it's not worth it.. I wonder. And honestly, I couldn't answer that question during that race. So I 'gave up'. I don't mean that I quit the race, I don't think I would allow myself to do that, but I gave up on trying to do anything than run. I gave up on complaining about how slow I was going, I gave up beating myself up for how many people passed me. I gave up on caring about anything other than keeping my feet moving and air moving through my lungs.

So I started looking around me. I watched dogs play in the park, said hello to a man pushing a jogging stroller, took note of how the cherry blossoms were blooming, and I just kept running.

Around mile 3, I heard a commotion behind me: "Lead runner, coming through! Move aside! Lead runner coming through!" The leader had reached mile 8 in just over 40 minutes. I was on mile 3. Unbelievable.

When I started getting tired, I had to push myself mentally. I took water at every station, making sure I at least stayed hydrated throughout the race. My paced breathing turned into deep breaths in and chanting "don't stop. don't stop. don't stop." while breathing out. I kept moving. 

After the fatigue set in, I took a Gu, busted through "the wall", and kept moving. But, shortly after, comes the pain. Every nerve in my body came alive and I started to feel those individual pains. The bottoms of my feet are suddenly on fire with every step. That sock is rubbing a bit on the left side... and I'm pretty sure there is a rock in my shoe...

After the first loop around the park, I tried to really kick it in to gear. I found a girl that had basically kept my pace and I stuck with her. She'd run ahead, walk a bit, I'd run up, pass her, then I'd stop and walk a bit, then she'd run past me again. 

By mile 7 or 8, I was pretty much done with running altogether and just wanted to quit. My body hurt, bad. I was tired. My stomach was cramping almost continuously and the only thing that kept me moving was the realization that the faster I move, the faster I can stop running. 

The photo to the left was actually taken just before turning onto the transverse just after mile 9. I can't believe I actually mustered a smile at that point! I was still racing "the girl" (photo below) and I think I had run past her and set a pretty wide gap between us.

It wasn't until I had the finish line in sight that she roared past me, sprinting toward the finish. So, I picked it up, I ran as hard as I could, as fast as I could across that line. After I realized that the girl was going to "beat me" I also realized that the finish line was just ahead and I just focused on getting across it.

Craig was on the other side, cheering me on (he had finished well ahead of me) and I was just happy to see that I had achieved my original goal: Finish in under 2 hours.

I came across the finish line at 1:52:43, which gave me a 12:08 pace. Sure, my ultimate goal has always been to get under that 12 minute mile pace, but since I'm still heavily reliant on taking walking breaks due to the cramping, I'm happy that I seemed to walk less than usual during that race.

Crossing the finish line, Craig ran up to me and said "oh God, are you okay??" Apparently, my face was yellow. Like jaundice yellow instead of flushed red like it should be. I mentioned that I was tired, and in some pain, but otherwise okay and hoped it would go down shortly.

I took the Gatorade and bagel and walked for a bit with Craig. It actually took a few hours and a shower to get the yellow color out of my face.  Any one have any ideas what could have caused the yellowing of my face? I don't think it was a "not in sunlight" thing because Craig noticed it immediately and several volunteers at the finish line stopped me to ask if I was okay. I checked it out in a mirror on the way home and it was definitely yellow. So weird.

Edited to add: There WAS a rock in my shoe the whole time and it settled right underneath my big toe on my left foot. I really thought there was going to be a giant, bloody hole in my foot when I took my sock off. But, no, no injury, just a bit of pain!

Anyway, some of you may remember that I dedicated this run to my Grandmother, a colon cancer survivor, and that still holds true.

This race was hard. Really hard. But I think going through Chemotherapy is probably a lot harder than running 9.3 miles - so I am happy to do that in honor of her struggle.

After rolling out with the foam roller (I'll post about that later), icing my knees, and a long, hot shower (where I spent most of it laying in the tub), we ordered some enchiladas and rested for the remainder of the day.

I counted the 15K as one of my long training runs in preparation for the half marathon. 9.3 miles on the books. 2 weeks later, I would run 13.1

On listening to your body...

"Listen to your body" is something that anyone who has ever done anything fitness related has heard over and over again. "Your body knows what its doing" "Your body knows what it needs" "Your body is telling you what to do" "Listen to it."

Yeah, well no offense to genetics (sorry, Mom and Dad!) but my body is a whiny little bitch. There. I said it!

Never being one prone to physical fitness, this new "fit" lifestyle is completely new to me. Sure, I danced as a child (up until college), I swam and dove competitively, and even played some team sports as a wee girl (didn't last long); but I was never the "give it my all" type of athlete. I was in it to participate. In it for the friends, in it for the "fun".

The first thing I ever found to be 'hard' (fitness related) was spinning. Riding a bike isn't hard, right? Well, I coughed and hacked my way through my first class and clutched my stomach trying to force the nausea away while shuffling my way home. My legs burned, my heart was pounding, so I spent most of the class sitting on the bike just pedaling along.

When I began running, everything hurt. My knees, my thighs, my butt actually moved up and down as I trotted down the road, leaving the muscle actually sore from impact. (Hint: compression pants are your friend!) My lungs burned, my heart raced, and my body was screaming "STOP! STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW!" So, I stopped. I always stopped.

Granted, there are times where walking is necessary, and I have stopped beating myself up over the absolute need to slow it down during a run; but, listening to my body often leads to me accepting less than what I can actually do.

Sure, my body feels like it knows what it needs.

"Rest today. Feel the hurt in your legs? It's because you did too much yesterday. Know what would be better? Order pasta in and just rest."

Riiiiigght.

My body thought it knew what it needed 50 pounds ago. Now, I can power through a 45 minute spin class pushing myself harder each step of the way. I can push myself hard to get a tough workout even if the instructor, for lack of a better word, sucks. And running will eventually be the same. Body screaming "Stop!" or not, I'll show that little voice just how much more can be done.

Marathon Training: Day 1

Did I tell you I'm running a marathon? No? Oh, well, add me to the list of stupid idiots that think running 26.2 miles in one morning is a good decision.

So, I'm running a marathon sometime in 2012. Now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about day one.

The New York City ING Marathon will begin tomorrow morning. The city is in a full marathon mode, barricades are set up, the path is properly labeled with banners and flags, signs are in store windows, congratulating tomorrow's runners. So what better time to start the training for MY marathon than today? The ultimate goal is to run the NYC marathon in exactly one year. (Note: it can be really difficult to get in to run the NYC marathon, which is a crazy idea if you think about it - it is HARD to gain access to run 26.2 miles. So Philly or DC may have to take NYC's place if I can't get in.)

This morning, Craig and I went to Central Park to run around the Jackie O. Reservoir.  The 1.6 mile loop would be a perfect start to our running "careers". We would go around twice, just over 3 miles. I take a spin class several times a week, do weekly cardio classes, yoga, swim, pilates, certainly running 3 miles wouldn't be a bad place to start. We walked over, arms crossed against the chilly wind, excited to begin this journey. At the reservoir, we noticed the marathon flags. "They'll run down this road tomorrow," Craig said, and I thought about how I might run down that road in one year. I was excited.

We started running at a steady pace together and I was feeling good. The leaves were beautiful in the park and the water glistened in the sunlight. And then it hit me: a cramp. Already! We stopped and walked for a bit, the cramp subsided and so we picked it back up again. I was surprised that running didn't hurt my knees or my hips, and I didn't even feel a burn in my muscles! At the mile point, my hand found my abdomen again as the cramp swelled back up. Suddenly, the other side cramped up as well. Breathing in started to feel like knives being jammed into my ribcage and I slowed to a walk again. Craig ran ahead and I walked with my hands rubbing the knots in my stomach. At one point, a man walking with his new-to-two-legs child passed me. I caught up with Craig and he could see it on my face. "What's wrong?" he said. "I can't do this," I lamented back, "Why can't I do this?"

And there it happened. I cried. I cried with over half a mile to go before I got back to the starting point. The point where I intended to start a second lap. I cried from the pain of the cramps and the headache I started to feel. I cried for the second lap I knew I could never complete. I cried from the disappointment I felt in myself. Craig walked with me a bit and eventually the cramping subsided, along with the tears. At the bend in the path, I decided that I would push myself, push past the pain and the disappointment and complete the last half a mile to the starting point.  So we did. We ran together through the last bit of the reservoir loop.

At the end of the loop, we made our way out of the park. Crossing the street, the 24 Mile banner hung over the road. 2.6 miles past that point was the NYC Marathon finish line. And I couldn't even make it 1.6 miles around the reservoir.

Let's just say, there is work to be done.