Preparing from Maryland

I remember the week leading up to the race as a time filled with nervous, yet very directed energy. I’m sure Jamie wished I could run more miles! Although, truth be told, neither of us complained about our spotless bathrooms or the piles of clean laundry that magically appeared.

I was so focused that the thought of a destination marathon didn’t seem to bother me. I knew exactly what I had to do and when. After a trip to REI to stock up on GU gels, a recharging of my iPod and a triple check of my favorite race gear, I was set.

I packed a separate bag that was designated as my race day bag. It contained (from the feet up because that’s how my mind works) my Saucony Kinvaras, my favorite SmartWool “long run socks,” my beacon-like orange shorts, my favorite sports bra, my “lucky” sleeveless top, my CamelBak, my “also lucky” Nike headband, my iPod, my Nike+ sensor and wristband, and then of course my gels and Nuun tablets. And I brought my foam roller.

I also, in a moment of impressive foresight I have to admit, managed to remember a post-race outfit and the packet of instructions that was mailed to all the participants.

Arriving in Pennsylvania

We arrived in one piece to my mom’s house late Friday night, despite getting into a minor accident with a tractor trailer along the way. She had pizza and vodka waiting for us, and a sign on her kitchen chalk board that read, “Go Alyssa!”

I had been trying not to drink alcohol too much that week, but after the tractor trailer incident and considering my nerves, I figured a few vodka tonics two days before the marathon wouldn’t hurt. I also took a sleeping pill that night because I knew I could count on the full eight hours if I needed it. Plus, they say “the night before the night before” your marathon is really the time to sleep.

The Day Before the Big Day

According to my Hal Higdon training plan, I was to run an easy three miles the Saturday before the race. So I laced up my running shoes and headed out into my old neighborhood. It was a crisp morning. And I remember thinking that I could conquer it all. The tunnel down the street seemed much closer to the house than I remember. Well, I had never run to it until this year. A distance that would, in the past, take me about 15 minutes to cover now took me closer to five. I was feeling good.

My mom, Jamie and I then went to the expo to pick up my race packet and try some random food samples. I had everything else I needed, so there was no need to buy anything. Random food samples excite me more than clothes, anyway. Unfortunately, Jamie and my mom were thoroughly unimpressed with the warm-ish coconut water.

Picking Up My Race Packet

As part of the expo, we also sat in on the “course presentation” which was essentially a panel of running gurus answering questions about the course. It was not a PowerPoint, which, in my marketing-tuned head, is totally what I expected. I also kind of wanted to see a motivational video of some kind. With emotional background music! It was not that either.

The main takeaway of the presentation was that we should be very careful on the downhills. Steamtown is known for about eight miles of pure downhill at the start. This makes for a fast course, and naturally the temptation is to bank time early on. However, the gurus told us quite plainly not to do this. Our quads could take a beating and there was always a risk that, if we damaged them too much, we wouldn’t be able to finish the race. I had read all the race reviews, so this wasn’t news to me. But it was a good reinforcement.

That night, we ate dinner at my family’s restaurant. Shameless plug: it’s called Oliveri’s Crystal Lake Hotel. They serve the best food. And the tables, during the warmer months, overlook a beautiful lake. My love of the outdoors I’m sure stems in part from the summers we spent there, diving for golf balls.

We had an early dinner (I don’t believe in the carb-load but I did have pasta) and of course I allowed some time to visit with my family. Then, it was back to my mom’s house for an attempt at sleep.

Before I hit the pillow, I set out all of my gear on the kitchen table and my race clothes in the bathroom. For some reason, I was obsessed with shaving my legs before the race, so I planned on taking a shower first thing in the morning. Who wants hairy legs in race photos? Not I, apparently.

Race Day Morning

The alarm, set to Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band, went off at some ungodly hour, 4:15 am I believe. I got in the shower, shaved my legs, got dressed and went downstairs to make coffee and eat my signature pre-long run meal of white bread with peanut butter. Delicious.

The car ride to the race start in Forrest City is a bit of a blur. It was dark, and cold. Jamie played Hit the Road Jack for my mother who was singing it before we left. It was not my ideal “pump me up” song but I didn’t care. Mom liked it. And I had just downloaded a bunch of great tunes and created my marathon playlist on my iPod, so I knew that once I turned that on at the starting line, I’d be in my zone.

Along the windy roads, we happened to come upon the race cannon en route to the start. The truck pulling it was going very slowly, so they let us by. We were so excited that we beeped repeatedly as we passed it. I’m sure the driver either got a kick out of this or thought we were still-drunk-from-last-night rednecks. Like I said, it was dark.

I took off my sweatshirt as Jamie pulled up to the race start. I knew I’d be cold at first, but I also knew I’d warm up quickly, once I started running. I grabbed my CamelBak (stocked with Nuun-infused water and GU gels), my iPod and well, that was it.

It was in this moment when I realized what I was about to do. I literally had this bag on my back and not much else. Nothing except 26.2 miles in front of me.

One Hour to the Start

Exiting the car, I said, “See you guys at mile 17!” and off I went into the darkness, following the volunteers that were directing us to the gym of Forrest City High School.

Along the way, someone shoved a purple ribbon in my face. I said thanks but had to ask what it was for. I’m pretty particular about the causes I support. The volunteer said, “It’s, um, for the race.” I thought, well okay then. I guess I can support that!

Inside the gym, there were masses of runners huddled up on the bleachers and on the floor. Some were holding big black garbage bags which I soon realized were for your belongings should you want to “check” and retrieve them at the finish line. I was glad I didn’t have anything to check. I wandered around for a while, enjoying the warmth of being inside.

All of sudden, I heard someone yell, “Alyssa!” It was my friend from high school, Jaye (also known as Running Momma). We reconnected recently through Facebook and it was so amazing to have her as a virtual training partner through the past few months. She’s a seasoned runner, and had run Steamtown in the past, so it was comforting even to be in her presence for a few minutes before the start. She was running the race with a friend of hers, so after we talked for a few minutes, I decided to go on my way.

I hit the bathroom one last time and finally approached the starting line. The sun had finally risen. There was a band playing and someone sang the National Anthem. The energy was electric. I managed to position myself somewhere between the nine and the 10 minute mile markers. Wishful thinking, yes, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get caught up in it all. I wanted to dream big.

And then… boom. We were off.

The First 13.1 Miles

Due to the sheer number of people, it always takes a few minutes to get to the starting line of any race. I was so pumped up, though, that I started literally running in place, just waiting for my chance to break free from the crowd. My enthusiasm unfortunately got a swift kick in the you know what, though. As I was inching my way up, I tripped on an uneven section of the road, almost falling into the poor guy next to me. I felt my ankle cry out in pain. Someone asked, “You ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, on the verge of tears. My worst nightmare at that point was to get injured early in the race. Never did it occur to me, though, that I could get injured before I even touched the starting line.

Thankfully, I was able to shake it off and move ahead.

The gurus at the course presentation (and all the reviews I had read online) weren’t joking about the downhills. Those first eight miles were, at first feel, awesome. After all, a decline usually is awesome. But we all knew we had to pace ourselves, or we’d pay for it later. During this portion of the race, I took it easy, and I was feeling smart.

We then passed through a few small towns in Pennsylvania, including Carbondale, where my grandparents and some of my family live. I knew they wouldn’t be there, but I looked for them anyway. It was a lonely feeling, honestly. But I decided to stay focused on the positive and take in all the good vibes of the moment.

Finally, the downhills had ceased and we were, in all senses of the word, rolling.

At a certain point in a marathon, you start to notice the other runners around you and recognize them as they pass, and then as you pass them. Fun games of leapfrog. Their faces become familiar and comforting, and you realize that all of these people are, in a lot of ways, just like you.

Before I knew it, I had approached the half marathon mark. I was happy to realize I had reached this point in 2:05, which meant there was a chance I could finish the race in 4:00. I was feeling great, actually. I thought if I could just pick up the pace, I could complete the entire thing with a negative split.

The Middle Section

By this point in the race, the outside temperature was rising and I was starting to feel the heat of the day. My left foot was also starting to tense up, a symptom I hadn’t experienced during training. I kept telling myself to relax. “Relax your foot, Alyssa, just relax your foot.”

As fate would have it, mile 15 was the start of the absolute best part of the race for me. From mile 15 to mile 18, I ran in the most beautiful part of the course, in my opinion, and I also got to see my favorite people in the world: Jamie, my mom, my sister and my cousins.

I didn’t realize how happy I would be to see them! Around mile 16, I started picking up the pace a little and I made sure to time my GU gels around our meeting point. For more than a mile, I was completely distracted, pleasantly so, at the thought of seeing them on the course. We had planned a good spot, but I didn’t know exactly where they’d be. The anticipation was unbearable but awesome.

Finally, as I rounded the corner into the park, I could see my mother jumping up and down. This was a signal that the others were close by, and, if I hadn’t already run 17 miles, I would’ve sprinted right to them.

Mile 17

My cousin Nicole made signs which they were holding up, and my mom just couldn’t stop hugging me. I stopped for a little bit to talk with them. I know this added to my overall time, but I didn’t (and still don’t) care. The love and support I felt in that moment meant more to me than anything.

It was hard to part ways with my family, but I had to keep going. The last thing I saw was a sign that said, “Alyssa, We Have Mimosas for You!” Do they know me, or what? Mimosas aside, though, seeing my mom, sister, cousins and Jamie was the most emotional part of the race. It gave me that extra push I needed to finish. It reminded me what I had to look forward to at the end. Essentially, I couldn’t wait to see them again.

The Last 10 Miles

Well, despite the high of seeing my family, my dreams of a negative split crumbled around mile 20. There seemed to be long expanses of nothingness on the course, where there were no crowds and hardly any other runners around me. I remember the moment when I realized that I wouldn’t make it in 4:00. And the moment when I realized I wouldn’t in 4:15. Or in 4:20. My left foot starting aching again. I was stopping for walk breaks more than I wanted to.

At one point, I stopped on the side of the road to try and stretch out my foot (if that’s even possible). A man running by actually yelled out, “I wish I could help you!” That was just the thing I needed. It’s so inspiring to me what a little human interaction can do. His words motivated me to keep going.

My body was breaking down, and I stopped at every water station to give myself a reprieve from the pavement. Looking back, I wonder if I could’ve timed my GU gels differently or if I should’ve drunk more Nuun. By the end, there was about a quarter left of my Camelbak. This was unusual considering I’d typically finish the entire thing during 20 milers. I chalk it up to nerves.

The last two miles were both grueling and insanely fun. This was the part of the race everyone warned us about, on account of the quick, steep uphills. If you take the downhills at the start too hard, this was the part, 20 miles later, where you’d feel it. I’m honestly not sure if that was the case, or if it was your regular run of the mill, “Hey, I just ran 24 miles,” sort of pain.

Nonetheless, I got through it. And what helped was the street party. I’m not even joking. Especially in the last mile, the city of Scranton really did it up with live bands, and people trying to give out Oreo cookies and beer. Yes, I said beer! I didn’t take any of it, regrettably, but it was fun to run through such a scene. It was evident that the people giving out these things had been drinking for a few hours. I really, really wanted to join them, but the finish line was mere minutes away.

After one last uphill, I could see the banner. A woman on the side of the road screamed out, “Wow, you look really good!” She was talking to me. I said, “Really?” Hey, fishing for compliments didn’t seem so awful after running 26 miles. She replied, “Oh my god, honey, you really do!”

I relished every second of that last quarter mile. I found my family again to my left, and I waved to them. I made eye contact and I only hope I let them know how grateful I was that they were there. And then, with determination and a lot of pride, I made my dash for the finish.

It was my moment. I put my hands up and enjoyed it. I remember what it felt like as my foot touched down on the other side of 26.2. Like I had done something amazing. Not amazing when compared to anyone else. But amazing for me.

Nearly 10 months before that moment, I had mustered up the courage to commit to my first marathon. There were a lot of ups and downs in those 10 months. A lot of challenges. But I conquered them all. And how did I know it? Because I was here, and I had crossed the finish line. Someone put a shiny sheet over me. There was a bottle of water. A little dizziness. A random conversation with some guy on a chair. And then there was my Jamie. And my mom. And my sister. And my cousin.

My legs were wobbly. But my heart never felt stronger.

Luckily, I had just enough fuel to get myself to the gas station closest to our house, at which point I reluctantly called Jamie. “I just want you to know that it was very hard for me to make this phone call,” I said, swallowing my pride. Of course, he came right away, unscrewed the gas cap like it was a light bulb, and had a good chuckle. Apparently it was not screwed on properly, so to remove it, you had to simply pull it backward without actually unscrewing. Whatever.

I thanked him for his assistance and said I’d meet him at home. It was so embarrassing. I like to think I’m an independent woman who can take care of herself. Well, I am, you know. But sometimes we all need a little help.

After I filled the tank and took a few deep breaths, I actually drove home with a smile on my face. Jamie gets a kick out of me and my fierce need for independence. I honestly felt bad for being more frustrated than I was grateful to him. But he just shakes his head with love. And amusement.

I also thought, man, I should not be so hard on myself. So what if I couldn’t unscrew a gas cap? You know what I did just a week and a half ago?

I ran a marathon.

When I decided to run my first marathon more than seven months ago, I said I was doing it for all the little girls out there who doubt themselves. And, admittedly, that group included me. I wanted to prove to them, and to myself, that they could do it. That they could achieve their dreams, whatever those dreams might be.

Now that I’ve crossed the finish line, I have the proof. No matter what hardships I might face, and no matter how many gas caps get stuck, I will always have this. I can always say, I’m a marathoner. I set a goal, and I did it.

In a few days, I will write more about all the technical stuff we runners like to talk about – the splits, the gels, the gross blood blisters. But, for now, I want to end here, with a simple message that yes, you can do it. Two years ago, I could not run a single mile without stopping. Today, I can say I’ve run 26.2 miles in four hours and 45 minutes.

I didn’t make my time goal, but that’s ok. I loved every sweaty second of it. And here I sit. Still coming off the high of it all, but also with a serene sense of, yep, I did it.

And now, with more fuel in the tank, I’m considering my next big goal.

Cruising into the finish at the Steamtown Marathon on October 9, 2011.

In any case, a few months prior to that 5K, I honestly could not run a quarter of a mile. Now, as I approach my first marathon in less than two weeks (holy crap!), I’m getting sort of sentimental about the whole thing. So I wanted to share some of the little tidbits I learned along the way.

If you’re thinking about running a 5K…

1. Just do it. If you’re considering starting to run, I say do it. No doubt, 100%, do it. It’s been a really rewarding experience for me, and most of the runners I talk to would say nothing to the contrary.
2. Set a goal. Pick a local 5K (which is a 3.1 mile race) about one or two months from now and sign up for it. If you have this goal, and you’ve paid the race fee, you are more likely to push yourself out the door.
3. Get the right shoes. Seriously. I started my first attempts at running with old gym shoes and my knees ended up killing me. A friend recommended I get fitted at a local running store. Best decision ever. It’s worth the investment.
4. Write out a training plan. You can find some good ones online. In general, though, the idea is to be consistent without over-training. Pick mornings or evenings and build running into your routine. Also, increase your long run just a little bit each week. Most people do their long runs on Saturdays or Sundays.
5. Rest the legs. I know you will be tempted, but try not to get too amped up and run everyday. Most training plans incorporate plenty of rest. Heed their advice! Especially when you are just starting out, you need to allow yourself the time to listen to your body. This will help you avoid injury.
6. Walking is ok. When I first started, I actually ran in spurts of one minute, followed by walking for two minutes. I would repeat this until I reached my distance goal for that day. Gradually, I increased the “running spurts” until I could run the total distance.
7. Reach out to other runners. My favorite way to talk to other runners is online, through sites like Twitter and DailyMile. But some people enjoy more personal contact. If so, try joining a local running club. You can do this through the local running store when you get your shoes (see tip #3).
8. Crank it up. There are some people who prefer to run without music. I am generally not one of those people. Every once in a while, it’s awesome to listen to the sounds of nature. But, for the most part, music fuels me. If you know what I’m talking about, download some upbeat tunes for your runs.
9. Stop being hard on yourself. If you’re just starting to run, I can tell you from experience that there will be setbacks. There will be days when you feel like crap or days when you just can’t get it done. Trust me, it’s ok. If every runner followed their training plans to a tee, we’d all be robots in some Orwellian society of freaky robot runners. Or something like that. Anyway, if you skip a run, don’t sweat it. Every day is a new day.
10. Reward yourself. Every time you hit a new milestone, whether it’s distance or time or just being out there again, it’s an opportunity to celebrate. Some running coaches I’m sure would scoff at me for this, but, after every long run, I have a beer. I know I’m supposed to drink water and consume protein, but whatever! It’s once a week! Anyway, whatever your reward of choice may be, make sure you take advantage.

At the end of the day, running should be enjoyable. If you have any questions as you get started, definitely let me know. Have fun out there.

It’s about the doing of it.

I have yet to run a race or a long run where everything in that middle area of the actual running ended up exactly as I had imagined it. I’m always grateful, of course, for the preparation and training (without which I wouldn’t make it very far) but it’s the doing of it, the running of it, that’s the adventure.

People always proclaim that running is a metaphor for life. They say this is because both running and life are challenging and both test our will, our strength in overcoming obstacles. No matter how hard it is, you train, and you keep pushing. You get up every morning and you get it done. Just like life.

Not to put down that theory, but my version is a little different. For me, it’s that middle part, the running of it, that’s analogous to life. Not because I’m overcoming any obstacles, but just because I feel the world as it really is when I’m running. I’m aware of everything in a very genuine way. And, mostly, I think running forces you to sort of go with the flow. Just as in life, there will be the expected and the hard. There will be the easy and the effortless. There will be days when your plan comes to fruition. And then there will be days when a downpour forces you to take shelter under a tree and, well, wait.

For me, the lesson in running is not about the victories, although they are great, don’t get me wrong. I have to admit, I love it when I reach a milestone like my first 20-miler a few weeks ago. Or when I get a PR for a certain race distance. Those are accomplishments that prove to me that I’m progressing.

But, at the end of the day, for me, it’s more about the stuff that happens on the journey. The sweat drenching my socks. The unexpected song on my iPod that brings me back to high school. The friendly wave from a runner passing in the opposite direction. The way the light shines through the trees in my favorite park. The feeling of not knowing what’s around the corner. The running of it. That’s my favorite part.

So I’m training for a marathon which will take place October 9 in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I decided to follow a Hal Higdon training plan and, in a somewhat ambitious move, went with the Intermediate 2 version. It’s actually been awesome. Challenging, but awesome. This week – officially week 9 on the schedule – Hal threw in a bit of a curve ball by prescribing a half marathon for Sunday’s long run.

I searched and searched. The only half marathon in the area turned out to be a race called Riley’s Rumble over in Germantown, Maryland. I hesitated for several reasons. One, it was in Germantown, which is a good 45-minute drive without traffic. And two, the description really intimidated me. The opening sentence, in fact, described the race as “the evil half that your mother warned you about.”

And, my favorite part of the Riley’s Rumble webpage: “Awards? There are no awards.”

But I decided to power through, setting my alarm for 4:00 am and mentally preparing for what was sure to be a tough morning. I had no idea.

Thanks to my trusty GPS, I arrived on time, registered on site and used the Port-o-Potty (which is never anything less than gross, but it has to be done).

As the sun was rising, I looked around and noticed that there were 200 people there, tops. That’s pretty small for a half marathon. This race was actually part of a series of races for a local running group, which would explain the small numbers.

By 6:45 am, we were lining up in the street and ready to take off.

I was psyched to do this. To be honest, I felt pretty hardcore showing up to a half marathon on race day, having not previously registered. I couldn’t have done that a year ago. But, at this point in my marathon training, I was confident I could run 13.1 miles on command. What I did not anticipate, however, were the conditions of this particular race. Riley’s Rumble was no joke.

At the start of the race – 7:00 am to be exact – it was 75 degrees and 94 percent humidity. I repeat, 94 percent humidity. That’s analogous to swimming through a bowl of Italian Wedding Soup. And the hills! I swear I’m not exaggerating when I tell you there was not a one quarter mile stretch that was flat.

So hill after hill, we trudged through the misty morning. Being back country Maryland (or at least the most back country I’ve personally seen in a while), there were lots of trees, barns, fences and cows. Yes, cows! I swear the cows were thinking, “Look at those dumb bastards.”

This was the first race in a long time where I stopped at every aid station. Any break from the hills and the humidity was a good enough excuse for me. Water? Gatorade? Why not. Load me up. I think the added hydration was a good call, even though I also had a full CamelBak and a GU Gel.

This was also the first run in a while where I took several walk breaks, especially toward the end. A negative split this was not.

But there were good things about this race too. It was a really beautiful setting, for one (excluding the cows). And the challenge of it made it especially satisfying.

And despite the small size, there was professional photography along the course. I thought of giving one of the photographers the finger (Christmas presents perhaps?), but decided against it. After all, it wasn’t his fault that it was 94 percent humidity and I clearly hadn’t done enough hill training.

After it was over, I grabbed my bottle of water and sat on the side of the finish line, cheering on the next bunch of runners coming through. It was nice to encourage them in solidarity. We all knew what a feat it was.

By the time I got up from my spot on the ground, I had left a puddle of sweat. Every inch of me was soaking wet, and apparently I had marked my territory. Thankfully I brought a change of clothes.

Since there were no awards or really any frills of any kind (except some cookies and watermelon slices), I decided to take off.

As I drove away, barefoot on the pedals, I thought, “Man, that was brutal. Messy. Inconsistent.” But even though I knew I finished nowhere close to my best half marathon time, I was proud of myself for making it through.

Rumble we did, Riley, rumble we did.

Riley's Rumble Photo! (That's Me in Blue)