Finishing time: 5:46:59.
21 minutes faster than last year!
I can honestly say that I've been to hell and back. Those images of hell being a fiery inferno are all wrong because hell is a 26.2 mile L.A. "foot tour" of rain (some torrential), thunder, wind, ankle deep puddles that you cannot go around among other indignities I'll tell you about later. The upside of going to hell and back is that I can now brag: been there, run that!
I went into yesterday's marathon feeling AWESOME (this a vast difference from 3 weeks ago when I didn't even want to run this sucker)!!! I had done the training (unlike last year); felt confident and relatively relaxed (despite the visit from my dear friend Insomnia, that likes to hang out with me before races). Although I had initially aimed for a 5:30-5:45ish finish this year, I was prepared and confident enough to ramp up my expectations to a 4:50-5:25 finish. I felt THAT good....
So here's my The Good, The Bad, The Ugly Breakdown in save-the-best-for-last order of my 2nd marathon:
The Bad:
Even Moisture Wicking Has Its Limits: Nike DriFit is impervious to just about any sweaty endeavor with which you test it....unless that endeavor involves 26.2 miles in the rain. Then torrential rain becomes DriFit's Kryptonite. And none of this occurs to your wet ass until somewhere around mile 14 when you start to hear and feel your thighs slapping together (thank God I used the Body Glide) and you still have more than 12 miles to go. And then you feel your pants crawling where they have no earthly reason to crawl. That's when your mind starts mulling over the possibility of a nasty yeast infection to add insult to injury. I won't even tell you about taking a piss and not wiping because it's so wet everywhere it just doesn't matter...oops, I just did. Sorry!
Homicidal Impulses: I'll admit it. I had them. And they were directed at the selfless volunteers and innocent spectators standing out in the rain who yelled out, "You're almost there! You got this!" At miles 18 and 19 when you're not almost there and when you don't got it.
The runners up to this group of people on whom I wished ill - the ones who yelled out, "Less than a mile to the finish" a good 1.30 from the finish.
You wish you could take these idiots out and make them literally run not walk, in your shoes for the remainder of the race so they learn never to offer people false hope again. Distressed runners would be more encouraged and motivated if the race organizers took all those Kenyans and Ethiopians, and all those sub 2:45 marathoners who came in hours before you, and had them doing all the cheering and yelling. They could say things like: "you look like hell, but there's only 1 mile to go, lard ass!" or "who cares if you cross the finish line in 5:25 hours!" Now shit like that would crack me up and get me going again!
Not Being Able to Run the Last 3 Downhill Miles: Really?!?!? The easiest part of course?!? What a difference this last 3 was from last year. I was totally re-invigorated at this point last year. And why not? It's all DOWNHILL. You run faster without even trying!!!!
Except when the tank is past empty; when there is no tank; when you lost it miles ago. Then it's sheer misery. My legs refused to do anything remotely imitating a run, a jog, a trot or even a shuffle. I cannot even begin to describe to you the mental toll that extracts from you - being so close to the finish on the easiest part of the course and you can barely walk. Sure, you're a stud for battling the elements to get that far, but you're so full of self-loathing and other vileness that that's the farthest thought from your mind!
The Ugly:
The Epic Bonk: Marathoners/endurance athletes talk about hitting the wall or bonking. However, there are many levels of bonking. There's hitting the wall (running with a bad hangover (been there, run that) or running on a belly full of cinnamon rolls and what else was that, Nicole? ;p); there's smashing into the wall (improper hydration and nutrition...uh, Susie...), there's bonking (what I experienced last year at mile 16ish) and then there's Epic Bonking (why go for the bonk when you can get the epic bonk? I'm ambitious that way).
I made one foolish decision early on that haunted me right after the half marathon point...I didn't de-layer. I had 3 layers (4 if you count the cap) on top to fight the rain - a trash bag, a light windbreaker that's been very useful in rain, and my light Surf City t-shirt.
I ignored the voices that started chattering away at me around mile 7-8 (when I was feeling THAT good) to start stripping because I could misjudge my body temp with all this cold rain and overheat without even knowing it... which could and would lead to dehydrating and bonking. Can you imagine? Dehydrating with rain pouring down on you?!?!? Who does that?!?!?
The Epic Bonk unraveled over a few miles before it took told and tried to wrestle me to the medical aid tent. My calves started cramping around mile 13.5. Cramping = sign of dehydration. I was filling up with water and Gatorade at every station, but it was already too late. My body was operating at a deficit. A mile later, I sadly had to start the ole' run/walk thing. I didn't even bother trying to run hills...just flat out walked them to conserve energy. The next few miles were a blur of feeling blistering nastiness on my feet (I just have minor blisters); soreness and aches in my quads, hamstrings, nalgas, ankles, hips that escalated to pain; hunger that only an In-n-Out burger can quell; aching kidneys; despair, anger and homicidal impulses. I had gone beyond the dark side. I had moments where I thought I wanted to die - I am that not joking about going to the dark side...But it comes down to one thing - just put one foot in front of the other until you get to the finish line.
I won't lie. This was the worst race I have ever run. Things got so bad out there that it almost felt like a matter of survival at some point. I mentally mishandled so many things that I'm still beating myself up for. But I know that this was huge learning experience that will make me a better runner.
You know that powerful feeling I felt at the end of my first marathon? Still not feeling it. This was the worst and most painful finishes ever and I thought I'd had some bad ones.
I shaved off 21 minutes off my marathon time in severe weather conditions. Being a good 5-7 pounds heavier (not counting the weight of my drenched running shoes) than I was last year. So I know it takes guts to do what I did. I'm hoping that I'll have a delayed elated reaction to this accomplishment. But maybe I won't and it will just get quietly stored into that vault of wisdom you acquire with good, hard experience.
The Good:
Mental Mile Marking: Last year I counted down backwards at each mile marker from mile 26.2. I'd think to myself, "Yay, you! Only 13.1 mi to go! You've done a half before! You know what it feels like! You can do this!"
This year I didn't need to do that. Doing the training as recommended immunized me from focusing on miles. I ran to run. I ran because I could. I didn't need the countdown. I just patted myself on the back for the good, strong miles and kept going.
West Hollywood is A Girl's Best Friend: There's nothing like drag queens or hot young men in European man thongs to re-energize you and help you fight off a low-level bonk! It worked on me last year and it worked again this year. In fact, it's just as good as any damn reason to run the marathon!
God Has Officially Punished Me For All My Sins, So He and I are Square Now: Somewhere around mile 21-22, I really believed that God was punishing me for ALL my sins. It can get THAT bleak out there, I shit you not! I thought He was punishing me for the ones He'd already forgiven me for. Even double and triple punishing me for the really salacious ones! It seems there's no end in sight for the torture, so this seems a logical explanation for the hell you're enduring. I mean why else would this shit happen?!?!? I texted my sister after the race about this and she texted back: And now that you and God are square, you can go get into some trouble! ;p
Fight or Flight Response: You know when every alarm on your body goes to Defcon 5 level and your kidneys start to hurt? And you get hungry when you know it's actually a bad sign feel that way? And then you want to cry or kill...or maybe both?
I had BAD race moments from mile 13.5 to the finish. Some I almost caved into, but there were more where I pushed, battled and fought and found that I still had 9:30 minute miles in me. You simultaneously feel pain and don't feel pain.
I actually experienced the fight response when the urge toward flight was stronger and threatened to prevail. I ran when I mentally and physically could NOT run because some primal instinct took over and propelled me. I ran as if my life depended upon it; as if I was being chased by a predator. I ran when I couldn't because Failure is the predator that chased me to the finish line. I hope I never have to finish another race that way, but it was an incredible experience nonetheless.
Revenge Run: This is a total about face from 24 hours ago when I announced my retirement from marathoning. Now that I've had 24 hours to get dry, warm up; eat solid foods that are bad for runners and other humans; and lick the wounds on my bruised ego, some like-minded runners and I are plotting our revenge run for March 18, 2012 - the 27th running of the L.A. Marathon (note it's 9 months before the apocalypse, so we'll be getting an early start there). While it's no small feat to shred 21 minutes off your time in the worst conditions in L.A. Marathon history (and where almost 30% of the runners did not finish), L.A. and I have some unfinished business. Somewhere on the streets of L.A. is my sub 5 marathon (the one I could have done sans epic storm), perhaps even sub 4:30 marathon. The marathon organizers like to say that the runners own the streets of L.A. on race day. I will OWN them on race day next year! L.A. - you have been put on notice!!!** (**provided race day 2012 maxes out at 70 degrees at noon and that I'm still not suffering hypothermic delusions).
21 minutes faster than last year!
I can honestly say that I've been to hell and back. Those images of hell being a fiery inferno are all wrong because hell is a 26.2 mile L.A. "foot tour" of rain (some torrential), thunder, wind, ankle deep puddles that you cannot go around among other indignities I'll tell you about later. The upside of going to hell and back is that I can now brag: been there, run that!
I went into yesterday's marathon feeling AWESOME (this a vast difference from 3 weeks ago when I didn't even want to run this sucker)!!! I had done the training (unlike last year); felt confident and relatively relaxed (despite the visit from my dear friend Insomnia, that likes to hang out with me before races). Although I had initially aimed for a 5:30-5:45ish finish this year, I was prepared and confident enough to ramp up my expectations to a 4:50-5:25 finish. I felt THAT good....
So here's my The Good, The Bad, The Ugly Breakdown in save-the-best-for-last order of my 2nd marathon:
The Bad:
Even Moisture Wicking Has Its Limits: Nike DriFit is impervious to just about any sweaty endeavor with which you test it....unless that endeavor involves 26.2 miles in the rain. Then torrential rain becomes DriFit's Kryptonite. And none of this occurs to your wet ass until somewhere around mile 14 when you start to hear and feel your thighs slapping together (thank God I used the Body Glide) and you still have more than 12 miles to go. And then you feel your pants crawling where they have no earthly reason to crawl. That's when your mind starts mulling over the possibility of a nasty yeast infection to add insult to injury. I won't even tell you about taking a piss and not wiping because it's so wet everywhere it just doesn't matter...oops, I just did. Sorry!
Homicidal Impulses: I'll admit it. I had them. And they were directed at the selfless volunteers and innocent spectators standing out in the rain who yelled out, "You're almost there! You got this!" At miles 18 and 19 when you're not almost there and when you don't got it.
The runners up to this group of people on whom I wished ill - the ones who yelled out, "Less than a mile to the finish" a good 1.30 from the finish.
You wish you could take these idiots out and make them literally run not walk, in your shoes for the remainder of the race so they learn never to offer people false hope again. Distressed runners would be more encouraged and motivated if the race organizers took all those Kenyans and Ethiopians, and all those sub 2:45 marathoners who came in hours before you, and had them doing all the cheering and yelling. They could say things like: "you look like hell, but there's only 1 mile to go, lard ass!" or "who cares if you cross the finish line in 5:25 hours!" Now shit like that would crack me up and get me going again!
Not Being Able to Run the Last 3 Downhill Miles: Really?!?!? The easiest part of course?!? What a difference this last 3 was from last year. I was totally re-invigorated at this point last year. And why not? It's all DOWNHILL. You run faster without even trying!!!!
Except when the tank is past empty; when there is no tank; when you lost it miles ago. Then it's sheer misery. My legs refused to do anything remotely imitating a run, a jog, a trot or even a shuffle. I cannot even begin to describe to you the mental toll that extracts from you - being so close to the finish on the easiest part of the course and you can barely walk. Sure, you're a stud for battling the elements to get that far, but you're so full of self-loathing and other vileness that that's the farthest thought from your mind!
The Ugly:
The Epic Bonk: Marathoners/endurance athletes talk about hitting the wall or bonking. However, there are many levels of bonking. There's hitting the wall (running with a bad hangover (been there, run that) or running on a belly full of cinnamon rolls and what else was that, Nicole? ;p); there's smashing into the wall (improper hydration and nutrition...uh, Susie...), there's bonking (what I experienced last year at mile 16ish) and then there's Epic Bonking (why go for the bonk when you can get the epic bonk? I'm ambitious that way).
I made one foolish decision early on that haunted me right after the half marathon point...I didn't de-layer. I had 3 layers (4 if you count the cap) on top to fight the rain - a trash bag, a light windbreaker that's been very useful in rain, and my light Surf City t-shirt.
I ignored the voices that started chattering away at me around mile 7-8 (when I was feeling THAT good) to start stripping because I could misjudge my body temp with all this cold rain and overheat without even knowing it... which could and would lead to dehydrating and bonking. Can you imagine? Dehydrating with rain pouring down on you?!?!? Who does that?!?!?
The Epic Bonk unraveled over a few miles before it took told and tried to wrestle me to the medical aid tent. My calves started cramping around mile 13.5. Cramping = sign of dehydration. I was filling up with water and Gatorade at every station, but it was already too late. My body was operating at a deficit. A mile later, I sadly had to start the ole' run/walk thing. I didn't even bother trying to run hills...just flat out walked them to conserve energy. The next few miles were a blur of feeling blistering nastiness on my feet (I just have minor blisters); soreness and aches in my quads, hamstrings, nalgas, ankles, hips that escalated to pain; hunger that only an In-n-Out burger can quell; aching kidneys; despair, anger and homicidal impulses. I had gone beyond the dark side. I had moments where I thought I wanted to die - I am that not joking about going to the dark side...But it comes down to one thing - just put one foot in front of the other until you get to the finish line.
I won't lie. This was the worst race I have ever run. Things got so bad out there that it almost felt like a matter of survival at some point. I mentally mishandled so many things that I'm still beating myself up for. But I know that this was huge learning experience that will make me a better runner.
You know that powerful feeling I felt at the end of my first marathon? Still not feeling it. This was the worst and most painful finishes ever and I thought I'd had some bad ones.
I shaved off 21 minutes off my marathon time in severe weather conditions. Being a good 5-7 pounds heavier (not counting the weight of my drenched running shoes) than I was last year. So I know it takes guts to do what I did. I'm hoping that I'll have a delayed elated reaction to this accomplishment. But maybe I won't and it will just get quietly stored into that vault of wisdom you acquire with good, hard experience.
The Good:
Mental Mile Marking: Last year I counted down backwards at each mile marker from mile 26.2. I'd think to myself, "Yay, you! Only 13.1 mi to go! You've done a half before! You know what it feels like! You can do this!"
This year I didn't need to do that. Doing the training as recommended immunized me from focusing on miles. I ran to run. I ran because I could. I didn't need the countdown. I just patted myself on the back for the good, strong miles and kept going.
West Hollywood is A Girl's Best Friend: There's nothing like drag queens or hot young men in European man thongs to re-energize you and help you fight off a low-level bonk! It worked on me last year and it worked again this year. In fact, it's just as good as any damn reason to run the marathon!
God Has Officially Punished Me For All My Sins, So He and I are Square Now: Somewhere around mile 21-22, I really believed that God was punishing me for ALL my sins. It can get THAT bleak out there, I shit you not! I thought He was punishing me for the ones He'd already forgiven me for. Even double and triple punishing me for the really salacious ones! It seems there's no end in sight for the torture, so this seems a logical explanation for the hell you're enduring. I mean why else would this shit happen?!?!? I texted my sister after the race about this and she texted back: And now that you and God are square, you can go get into some trouble! ;p
Fight or Flight Response: You know when every alarm on your body goes to Defcon 5 level and your kidneys start to hurt? And you get hungry when you know it's actually a bad sign feel that way? And then you want to cry or kill...or maybe both?
I had BAD race moments from mile 13.5 to the finish. Some I almost caved into, but there were more where I pushed, battled and fought and found that I still had 9:30 minute miles in me. You simultaneously feel pain and don't feel pain.
I actually experienced the fight response when the urge toward flight was stronger and threatened to prevail. I ran when I mentally and physically could NOT run because some primal instinct took over and propelled me. I ran as if my life depended upon it; as if I was being chased by a predator. I ran when I couldn't because Failure is the predator that chased me to the finish line. I hope I never have to finish another race that way, but it was an incredible experience nonetheless.
Revenge Run: This is a total about face from 24 hours ago when I announced my retirement from marathoning. Now that I've had 24 hours to get dry, warm up; eat solid foods that are bad for runners and other humans; and lick the wounds on my bruised ego, some like-minded runners and I are plotting our revenge run for March 18, 2012 - the 27th running of the L.A. Marathon (note it's 9 months before the apocalypse, so we'll be getting an early start there). While it's no small feat to shred 21 minutes off your time in the worst conditions in L.A. Marathon history (and where almost 30% of the runners did not finish), L.A. and I have some unfinished business. Somewhere on the streets of L.A. is my sub 5 marathon (the one I could have done sans epic storm), perhaps even sub 4:30 marathon. The marathon organizers like to say that the runners own the streets of L.A. on race day. I will OWN them on race day next year! L.A. - you have been put on notice!!!** (**provided race day 2012 maxes out at 70 degrees at noon and that I'm still not suffering hypothermic delusions).
