L.A. Marathon 2011: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Gutsiness

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).

L.A. Marathon 2010: Stadium to the Sea Minus Two Toenails and Up Two Blisters

This is the blog I meant to write last year post-race, but all that full-time work nonsense precluded such activity. But, heck - I took today off and I kept my notes from last year! Although I write this from the wisdom of 2 marathons under my belt (the conditions this year being far worse), these are the main thoughts I took away from my first marathon:

Respect the Distance: It's 26.2 miles on your feet. And you're supposed to finish by 3 or 4pm the afternoon of. So what if you can hike for 18 miles - this really was the logic that told me I was prepared for the marathon. You're not 20 any more. You're body will remind you of that from mile 8 on. Train like they tell you to - long runs and all. There's a reason those training plans work.

You're Tougher Than You Think: I feel I have the metal strength of Silly Putty. I'm told otherwise. I'm told I've proven otherwise. I just didn't buy it until I crossed the finish line. You will get haunted by every mental demon of yours from mile 16 on. You know the one that says you're too fat and unprepared to be out there; the one that says you have the mental strength of Silly Putty. Those demons will abuse you and make you want to stop that running nonsense. But something amazing happens as those demons ramp up their attacks. You just put one swollen, blistered, toenail-challenged foot in front of the other and repeat. For another 2 hours or more. And when those blistered feet hit the finishing timing mat, you realize that the Silly Putty was really steel all this time.

"Today You Are My Hero": A lady was holding up this poster for her Team in Training running buddies (not for me) at mile 17 when I was fighting, fading and failing. I don't know if it was sheer arrogance, the hand of God or what, but I saw that sign and read it as if she had written that for ME. That lady, whoever she was, saved my ass out there! Everything was hurting so bad; I ran out of water; I wanted to cry. But I saw her sign, gave her the thumbs up and ran strong until I ran to the dark side (mile 20) at the VA Center.

The Race Really Does Start at Mile 20: All this time, I thought a bunch of elite, runner douchebags spouted off this expression just to show off and make us mere mortals feel inferior. Turns out that they are right. But for different reasons. Bad, uncool things start happening around mile 16 and get worse through mile 20. Bonking, mental demons, aches, pains, other gastro-intestinal indignities...You become this close to quitting and wanting to die when you see that Mile 21 marker at the end of the VA Center and you experience a literal 2nd wind that moves your exhausted, depleted body to speeds you thought your body had long since abandoned. You actually become giddy when you realize that you have 5 more miles (3 of which is downhill) and the 5 miles are a cakewalk. It's almost a miraculous experience when you come from the brink of all things dark and nasty and come out the other side energized and happy!

You Need A Good Pit Crew: I don't know how I could have finished this race without Gary and Susan. My non-runner hubby has patiently tolerated the horrifically early race morning wake up times; stood at countless finish lines weighted down by all my pre and post race gear while trying to get a shot of my crossing the finish; negotiated street closures and resolve-testing traffic just to humor me and my athletic whims. And Susan, with the cute See You at the Finish Line sign that greeted me at 4am race morning, helped saved me during my dark mile 20 with her texts of encouragement that continued at each mile marker from there. She also saved the day with the humor of Susan just being Susan - near the finish line, I spotted her chatting away with some really cute guy. When I asked her who he was, she said that she didn't even know his name, that they just started talking. You go, girl!

Other quick observations:

LA is a really cool course: Olvera Street, Silverlake, Sunset Blvd., The Museum of Death, all those cool bars, Brentwood, Santa Monica - I gotta get outta OC more often!

Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies" makes you run faster: That song and her reedy voice are so annoying you will run faster just to get away from it quickly. No matter how many toe nails have popped off!

People are awesome: You really do experience the kindness of the human spirit out there. A smile, a fist bump, a high five from a stranger...it's truly heartwarming to experience to see total strangers just being out there for other total strangers. Maybe we're not so bad after all.

I have no idea what "the miracle of childbirth" feels like. And never will I am happy to say. But crossing the marathon finish line struck me as something pretty damn close to what women say they feel when they give birth. I felt amazing; strong and powerful. I felt invincible for days. I can respect that marathoning is not for everyone. But if you even have a tiny inkling that you may want to try it, then do it. You won't regret it (after everything stops hurting and your toenails grow back!).

Trek 2009 Women’s Race Series – Duathlon (1.5 mi run/10 mi bike/2 mi run) - Disneyland

Time: 1:14:10 (goal – around an hour – oops!)
Run 1 – 13:43 (goal – 12 min); ranked 139 of 554 female racers
T1: 1:38
Bike – 41:07 (goal – 30-35 min); ranked 254
T2: 1:38
Run 2 – 16:03 (goal – 20 min); ranked 213 (PR!!!)
Overall rank: 201/554
Age Division Rank: 28/56

How To Ignore Sound Training Advice & Still Cross the Finish Line

It’s looking as if 2009 will go down as a highly unfocused and undisciplined, devil-may care race year for me – hence, the title of this post and race report. Maybe that’s just what I need right now – I don’t know. I just kinda went off the rails after the tri last September and haven’t been as hard-core in my training or as committed to racing. Heck, I even missed out on my chance to be a Legacy Runner (cuz I’m all about titles and awards) at the Surf City Marathon this year and all I needed to do was enter and run the 5K!!!! Before it sold out…

But rather than fight this lackadaisical attitude, I’m gonna go with it and see where it takes me – because I think my body and mind are taking an extended vacay right now to prepare for some crazy shit in the future…like a 3rd place age group medal.

Have Race Gear Prepped and Laid Out for Race Morning

Like everything but my Garmin running watch!!!! You know, that overpriced watch that helps me monitor my heart rate (too high for my liking and possibly safety), mileage (is this torture over yet?!?) and pace – cuz God knows after two years of running, I still can’t tell the difference between a 10-minute mile versus an 8-minute mile without that thing (except that 8-minute miles hurt more)!

So, yes, it would help if I would plug it in properly to the charger. But that didn’t happen, I suppose, because a few days prior to the race, I had run some blistering intervals with my trainer Rick and the resulting PTSD prevented me from plugging the thing in right!
What makes this boo-boo more egregious is that I had done this VERY SAME THING last year at the Placentia Get Fit 5K!!!! Yeah, you should have seen me get my freak out on then! I couldn’t run with just a regular ol’ heart rate monitor!!!! My poor husband Gary couldn’t find the Valium fast enough…for either of us…

But what gave me peace of mind in the wee hours of Sunday morning was that I had PRd last year without that pricey beast of a running watch. I ran an 8:30-ish minute mile – my best race time ever. I thought that if I could pull this stupidity off a second time, then surely another PR was on the horizon. I dropped a couple f-bombs (for my own amusement) and went on my merry way to Disneyland.

Result: ANOTHER PR!!!! In final 2 mile run, ran an 8:01 minute mile (with walk breaks). I never once looked at my heart rate monitor to check out my heart rate (a major feat). I used it only to judge time . . .and when I got those minute walk breaks!

Do Not Alter Your Pre-Race Nutrition On Race Morning

Stick with what works; with what helps you run a strong, safe race. Don’t wanna be surprising your adrenaline-laden tummy and body with pre-race surprises! Really bad things can happen if you try this. Unless you’re me.

Now, I didn’t go all Usain Bolt and chow down a Big Mac before a 100-meter Olympic sprint. I went minimalist this time. I eschewed traditional coffee with creamer and half a peanut butter sandwich on oatnut bread for…coffee, black and a couple teaspoons of Jif. And water (see Mud Run race report for significance of water). I drank water until I emptied my bottle 10 minutes before the race. My mouth started to get dry, but I think that’s pre-race adrenaline and nerves. I was able to run to a water fountain pretty soon after the race started.

Result: Hydration is a big thing for me. I’m an Aquarius for God’s sake! I felt better for the most part throughout the whole race. Heck, I PRd, so I’m going to try this minimalist approach again!


Do Not Use the Race to Break In New Running Shoes

There’s physiological and psychological factors at play here. You can injure yourself running in shoes with which your body is unaccustomed. And why mess with a shoe that makes you feel like Usain Bolt? You and your running shoes should have a beautiful relationship.

Unless you find a hole in your favorite pair of Asics (orthotics fitted to the shoe) a week before the race. And you haven’t heard back from your Asics connection who gets you a sweet deal on your running shoes. And you decide to get fit tested at the highly recommended Running Lab. Two days before the race. Oh, no, my friends. The fun doesn’t stop here – it’s just beginning!

Now I had heard about the very excellent work that Running Lab does on fit testing, but I never heard that to do this outstanding work it requires time and appropriate clothing. Time I don’t have in my afternoon a few days before the race and clothing that least lends itself to running. Oh, yeah – those bastards weigh you, too! Talk about getting started on the wrong foot!
But they poked, prodded, shook their heads and clucked sympathetically (for themselves, not me!) as they observed the staggering difference in leg measurements; a freak of nature over-pronation issue; questionable ankles and other things they had to consult their bio-mechanics guy on! I’m sure they wanted to tell me to hang up my running shoes; that it was hopeless and physically dangerous to me and other runners if I continued, but the commission on a $150 pair of running shoes was far more enticing to them.

Do they send me out with Asic 2120s like I have been wearing since I started running? Heck no! I walk out of there with these industrial Saucony’s – a completely different shoe with a completely different purpose! These things are ugly! They look like the corrective orthopedic shoes that doctors in the 70s used to torture their patients with. They are the running equivalent of a dunce hat!

Result: Massive humiliation and ego-bruising; loathing of parents and their genetics passed down to me; and a depleted checking account. The jury is still out on the shoe and its performance because the jury is still embarrassed by her ridiculous Sauconys!

Post-Race Re-Fueling

Lots of different theories on this that mostly espouse refueling your exhausted muscles with nutritious foods. There are some people who train hard, eat properly and would never dream of polluting their precious post-race bodies with an XL pizza – those are the Chicken and Brown Rice People.

So why do all the best races have beer gardens? Why are some of the best races within post-race staggering distance to cool neighborhood watering holes?

Clearly, I’m no Chicken & Brown Rice Girl (although my body has put me on notice about this matter!). I’m an Efusjon-swilling, waffle & butter-eating (believe it or not, this is a rarity) post-race Wine-Tasting Girl! Nothing repairs the muscles like splitting 10 bottles of whites, reds, and sparklings with a few of your buddies. Wine, cheese, bread and dancing at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night is how I reward my body for a PR!

Result: A very humbling hangover, alcohol bloat and strange, inexplicable bruising which may have had to have something to do with my husband rescuing me from an ill-timed pool plunge.

By the way, this blog took longer to write than it did to finish this race…

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - And the Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

And the Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

The sequel to the mud run begins at home. When you try to rescue your race clothes . . . the morning after and that smell of mossy lake funk has taken over your laundry room.

We’re in a recession, right? So why discard my trust work out and race clothes just because I got a little mud on them? After all, there was hardly any mud - that thing I bitched about! Because you’ll spend more on your water bill trying to wring out all the dirt and mud in your clothes than on new workout clothes. And because I'll need yet another shower after trying to wring out my clothes!

You Only Get 24-Hours to Monday-Morning Quarterback and Beat Yourself Up. Then it’s time to get back to work. Much harder work.

Running events aren’t strictly about competition, camaraderie and testing one’s limits – they’re life learning events – big Ah Ha! moments from someone up there thumping you over the head. Sometimes real freakin’ hard! Some one or thing trying to tell you that you have amazing gifts and that you better start taking care of them (giving them plenty of water is a really good start!). Real good care of them. Because the time with we have our gifts is fleeting. And the clock is always ticking . . .

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - The Just Plain Ugly

The Just Plain Ugly:

Dehydration. I am not an athlete – not even close. I suffer from Adult-Onset-Athleticism and the effects of working with a trainer (Rick, Rick, Rick) who is part miracle worker and part Jedi Mind Trick Master. I have dealt with a weight problem, low-self esteem, depression and other demons virtually my whole life. It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I started feeling very Lara Croft Tomb Raider and decided to give this whole racing thing a shot as a hobby. A very demanding, time-consuming hobby.

That said, I have had a fortuitous intro into running and multi-sport events. I have read soooo many race reports about professional-level athletes who bonk; fail miserably; have hellacious race experiences; and generally crap out despite their life-long training and God-given abilities (and perhaps, HGH in some cases). Total racing horror stories.

Yet, I have been so blessed as to only experience minor racing discomforts (a minor injury here; the humiliating sound of my flabby thighs slapping together at top speeds; a heart rate that surpasses 190) and a ton of small victories over the past two years. I am 41 and could still stand to trade in 15 pounds of flab for more muscle, but nothing remotely horrific has happened to me on race day. Until Saturday.

Dehydration is one of the worst enemies of a runner or endurance athlete. Runners are told that once you feel thirsty, your body is already dehydrated. Dehydration can hospitalize your ass and possibly kill you.

Well, guess what I felt standing in the starting corral 10 minutes before the race start? Thirst and dry mouth. As I keep myself on the hydrated-plus side, this was a discomfort that I thought would be assuaged at the water station at mile 1.
We went out harder and faster than planned for mile 1. We might have been at a 7:57 pace – nothing that should have made me feel as crappy as I felt after mile 1. I wasn’t very pleased with my body, but I was determined to finish and thought a few ounces of water would fix everything.

By the time you feel thirsty, you’re already dehydrated…

Guess what I drank the entire trip to Pendleton? Coffee. What does coffee do other than possibly act as a performance enhancer? Dehydrate you!!! Guess who gave that no freakin’ thought whatsoever as she discarded her Arrowhead water in favor of coffee? Guess who was more freaked out about having to take a whiz on the race course, having to use stinky porta-potties and experiencing that oh-so uncomfortable sloshing feeling one can get from running with too much in the tummy? Guess who thought she thought she had her crapola nailed down by eating a relatively healthy pre-race dinner of scallops and rice and a breakfast of half a peanut butter sandwich sans a healthy dose of H20?

After mile 1, I’m having difficulty breathing and filling my lungs with air. I develop a side stitch – something that I have only felt once or twice before a couple years ago and sucks butt. The stitch eventually dissipates, but then the huge bloaty, uncomfortable pain sets in between my sternum and gut. I’ve become the turtle of team of jackrabbits which has the potential to humiliate the crap out of me, but I believe I will recover and finish after some walk breaks.

By the time you feel thirsty, it’s too freakin’ late . . .

Somewhere on a hill around mile 2.25 I start suspecting that dehydration could be the culprit to my sorry-ass performance. Again, I know I will finish. I put it out of my mind and try to walk it off. A quarter mile later – I experience one of the worst feelings a runner can have in 70+ degree heat – shuddering chills – and the realization that I’m not sweating as much as I normally do. Hell No! I’m not gonna be one of those sad sacks that gets carted down the hill in an ambulance. Cute Marines or not! I will not not finish a race! But I know this could be bad for me. Really bad. To my ever-growing disappointment, I take yet another walk break. And I tell no one about this except Gary . . . on the way home.

By the time you feel thirsty … You know happens to your heart rate when your body is dehydrated? It SKYROCKETS because it has to work harder to do even the simplest things. Dehydration can cause kidney and heart failure. Dehydration can lead to death. And if you live to tell the tale - the dehydration headache will be tougher and nastier than an overly-hilly race course. Trust me on this. The pain drove me to tears last night.

Camp Pendleton Mud Run - The Bad

The Bad:

The Hills to Mud Ratio. Was it the weakened economy that precluded Camp Pendleton from making more mud or the rabid environmentalists that don’t let anyone have any fun anymore?

All week long, I read blog after endless blog (like mine) about the race and the inconviences of stinky, oozy, mossy mud that gets in places mud doesn’t remotely belong. About how freakin’ well-conditioned you have to be to squat-walk through small tunnels; run through a tire obstacle; hurdle 5’ walls and run with 10 pounds of mud clinging to your shoes and body with a Marine hurling insults at you; and getting hosed down steep hills by fire hoses. So what, I said. I’m gonna have fun!

But very few of these blogs focused on the endless amount of hills; their proximity to the sun; their grades and how much the course and topo maps LIED!!!! It’s a real hoot when those adorable course marshals tell you that you’re climbing up the course’s last hill, when alas it turns out, the steepest, gnarliest m-fers are still ahead of you and waiting to test your mettle, lungs, quads, glutes and calves.

When I enter a race called the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, I want mud and Marines (the two finest selling points for a female runner)! EVERYWHERE! Don’t let those PETA-like, rabid environmentalists dictate that Camp Pendleton use Super Soakers instead of bona-fide-tear-your-skin-off-fire hoses! Mother Earth and her runners want water and mud – especially while the earth and its inhabitants are microwaving themselves! This event occurs only 3 times a year – the earth will not dehydrate because Camp Pendleton wants to raise money for the people who would give their lives for us! And Mr. Obama, could you please return our Marines in time for 2010 Hard Corps Race Series?

Racing with Your Trainer: Your trainer 10 years your junior bounds up hills ceaselessly energetic like a mountain goat – even late in the race – as your well-conditioned legs and lungs want to call it a day. At mile 1.5.

Douche-bag Behavior: The USMC informs you that the race starts at 9 a.m. – a very, very civilized race start. What kind of an a-hole are you that you show up nearly an hour late; shove your way through the team runners THAT GOT THERE ON TIME during the National Anthem on a Marine base and DELAY the team start?

And what kind of jerk-off are you that steals an Under Armour cap?!?

Douche-Bag Behavior (mine): Bypassing the HUGE lines of patient, deserving post-race runners waiting for those heavenly, cold showers by exploiting lemming-like tendencies and a minor logistical shower flaw – entering on the unused, opposite side of the showers. I told myself that I was entitled as it was my personal revenge for those stupid, disrespectful m-fers mentioned above.

The Camp Pendleton Mud Run: The Good, The Bad, The Just Plain Ugly and The Dirty Little Secrets of Mud Runs

My initial draft of this blog was in the form of an open letter to the mud run race organizers to either add mud to said event or rename it the Camp Pendleton Hill Hell and Back Run due to the relative surplus of hills to actual mud. But after hosing down and wringing out my race clothes and getting nothing but brown water out of them, categorizing the race by good, bad, ugly and dirty seemed far more appropriate.

The Good:

Young, cute Marines.

I finished it! Despite the fact that my longest training run was 2.5 miles and that I was 40 the last time I’d even looked at a hill in a vaguely athletic manner. Despite that pesky little dehydration issue that kicked in before the race even started (but more on that in the Just Plain Ugly section).

My pit crew, Gary. That man suffers with me when the alarm goes off at the ungodly hour of 4:45 a.m. race day; drives endless minutes off two exits to find me suitable facilities when the caffeine kicks in; waits ever so patiently for the start and finish to try to shoot a decent shot of me; and shows up at just the right time with a post-race Blue Moon brew. This man was delivered to me by the running gods. As Gatorade says, “That’s G!”

Young, cute, friendly Marines.

Running with a team comprised of friends and strangers (are there really any strangers in running?) called Team Mixed Nuts – people who inspire, push you, make you laugh and try to distract you from the evil your body has in mind with vacuous conversation. Note to Rick: I’m on to you and your tricks, buddy. You get away with them because I let you! Note to Kristie: Call your buddies at Chanel and tell them to start making athletic eyewear! You rock, girl!

Young, cute friendly Marines from out of state that thought I was cute.

My body, guts and spirit – si se puede! Sure, they let me down a little on Saturday. But no matter how much I may beat myself up for my shortcomings on Saturday – this body, whom I refer to as Cartman-like or fat-ass, and on some days despise with a passion equivalent to my passion for physical challenges – performs miracles that amaze me. It goes fast when I least expect it; quits feeling pain when that’s all I should be feeling and just refuses to give up.

The young, cute friendly Marine from out of state who liked my cowboy hat.

Spectators who cheer for total strangers and put their hands out for a high-five from a runner! They make you feel like an Olympian when your body makes you feel, well, like Cartman.

Being able to laugh at yourself when you fall on your butt after BOTH 5’ assisted wall climbs and enjoying the “active rest” while plummeting down a hill.