A few months ago, a coworker commented on the fact that all of my self-photos on Facebook were taken after a race, when I was all sweaty and tired looking.  She diagnosed (with a smile on her face) that I must have some sort of obsession with running and perhaps should seek professional help.  I smiled back at the suggestion and headed into my office, assuming that I was a well-rounded enough person to have more than one hobby in my life.  And I sit here today knowing that I do have other hobbies: reading, dancing around my apartment (while kind-of cleaning), travel, singing (as long as I’m alone in the car or bathroom), and decoupage.

But after the past two weeks, I also have to acknowledge that my friend was right too.  About three weeks ago, I started using the stair machine at the gym (or what my friend Nikki calls the Stairway to Hell).  I would use it for 22 minutes, or the length of an episode of Go On on my iPad, and then walk on the treadmill for an hour before heading home.  So on that Tuesday when my thigh started hurting a little, I figured it was just a new muscle group being used and backed off a bit to give it time to recover.  Then over the weekend, I had a great time running an evening Summer Solstice 5K on Friday, did some solo running downtown on Saturday morning, and was on time for my Sunday morning running group.  I kept up with four other women on Sunday morning, turning back towards the start before them because of a halff marathon coming up.  Suddenly around mile 6, my left calf (the same leg as the sore thigh) felt light it had gotten a significant bruising and I had to walk for a few minutes.  I was able to mostly jog the final two miles back to my car but for the rest of the day I was limping through life.  And the pain was still there Monday morning.  And Tuesday morning.  And Wednesday when I finally went to the doctor.  When she asked me what I hoped to achieve through the appointment, my quick response was “drugs and a diagnosis.”  What I was too embarrassed or afraid to ask for was the promise that I would be able to run again.  As she worked through the tests, I slowly realized I was more worried about not being able to run than not being able to walk.  And how messed up those priorities were.  Or were they?

I walked out of my appointment that day with a semi-diagnosis (strained muscles due to overuse) and a prescription for ibuprofen and muscle relaxers.  Success!  Oh, and I wasn’t supposed to do any jarring exercise like, oh say running for a while.  I couldn’t look my doctor in the eye at that point as I did the quick math to realize I was 8 days away from my scheduled and paid for 10th half marathon.  I knew that as long as I could walk, I was heading to the Foot Traffic Flat on Sauvie Island July 4th.

I didn’t ask anyone if they thought I should still do the run, because I knew every logical friend, family member, neighbor, pet, and lawn gnome around me would say I shouldn’t.  That I should just forget the entry fee and focus on recovery.  And every single one of them would be right.

But I had to.  I hurt myself a bit more and yet I don’t regret the choice.  I ran slowly, walked often, and played leapfrog with a woman in a sparkly skort.  During the Newport Marathon, where I had to walk several miles due to illness and exhaustion, I was brought to new understandings of giving in versus giving up, the importance of completing the journey, and how support is never limited by location.  This time, I learned about the community I’ve gained through running, one that I am not willing to lose, and about knowing something is just a little bit foolish, and doing it anyways.

My leg is finally truly improving, thanks to medication, rest, and a massage that left several bruises on my leg.  Getting hurt helped me to realize that my friend’s diagnosis a few months ago was right.  I’m obsessed and well-rounded.  And I’m okay with that.

When you sign up for a Rock n’ Roll running event, you are not just signing up for a run.  You truly are signing up for an event.  Heading down to the Waterfront that Sunday morning (on the Max because I wanted to be Portland Green, and avoid a parking nightmare), I already felt like a rock star with my number showing and cliff bar in hand.  Why yes, I was going to run a half marathon this morning.  What are you doing up so early, strangers on the train.  Over half the Red Line train ended up pouring out at the same stop as me; we were a few blocks from the river and already hearing the music bouncing off the buildings.

This was going to be fun.

I had signed up for the inaugural event in Spring 2012 for two main reasons: I had been reading about the company for months in Runners’ World Monthly, and the course traveled outside of the normal downtown routes.  This year, unfortunately the event incorporated a lot more of Naito and less Laurelhurst, but it did still venture up that long SE Hawthorne hill.  For the first time I was running a race with a friend, and during that particular mile, I came to adore and hate my friend Patricia, depending on the block we were on.  Based on the comments from other runners, there was a general enjoyment of the course but definite hope that it will keep SE part of its scenic route.

Now I must give a shout out for all of the volunteers who make this a well oiled machine.  There was plenty of water and Gu along the course, and lots of cheerleaders too.  Much like the Portland Marathon, the best part was just the people on their front lawns, cheering on strangers and giving that boost of belief that would keep us going to the end.  And that official volunteer keeping the porta potty area clear near Corral 16; your job was far from glamorous, but you kept at it with a smile and speediness that I appreciated so much.

13.1 miles and about 2:30 later (which was right on target for my goal), Patricia and I cross the line with fists pumping into the air and tons of random strangers cheering for their loved ones coming in around us.  We placed our new medals on each other’s necks, toasted with chocolate milk and bagels, and then sat on a curb with her family to enjoy this mass of celebrating people for a while.  Yes, the event was a bit on the expensive and busy side, but it was well-organized, well celebrated, and well worth the mileage.

Plus, it was fun.

When I first started exercising and dreaming of weight loss, I started also reading autobiographies about fellow dreamers.  Books like The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl were inspiring because they were about real people who succeeded, stumbled, and had real world goals.  I tried to read one about an Olympian, but soon gave up because I just couldn’t connect with that lifestyle or see potential of following it.  After five months, I attempted my first 5K run (Starlight Run) and a new life was born.  I kept going to the gym, started running a lot more often, and focused my reading on runners, like Second Wind about a mid-life crisis that is resolved through completing (not winning) a half-marathon on every continent.  I signed up for Runner’s World Monthly, along with a bunch of online blogs and email newsletters, and devoured the stories for their inspiration.  After a couple of years, I even started to think I had my own story that could be on those pages and wondered what the ending would be.

One of the later books in this journey was What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.  The author, Haruki Murakami, was so intentional about his reflections in his marathon training that I was again inspired.  This time it was not about getting faster, thinner, or out on the road more often.  Instead it being aware of what was going on while those shoes were hitting the pavement.  So since then I really have tried to think when I run.  Crazy concept I know.   In this little experiment, I’ve also realized running and racing involve two very different wavelengths in me, even if the physical process is basically the same.

What I think about when I’m running:

• Is there a Heaven? – for some reason this has been a bit of existential wondering ever since seeing a painful scene during The Hunger Games
• How should I respond to Student A’s question / co-worker B’s email / supervisor C’s drop in? – sometimes I work out the conversations that will take place on Monday and sometimes I argue the conversations that will never happen (like if Student A is being extra twerpy but I can’t respond in kind)
• What would it be like to live on Hawthorne, in Laurelhurst, or along the waterfront?
• How can I find people to run with, either friends or someone more?

What I think about when I’m racing:

• Catch the blond – this was the method to my madness during the Shamrock Run; trying to catch up with and then pass skinny blond women with pony tails
• 1:10 – this was my goal time for the Bridge to Brews 10K yesterday
• Where is that stupid finish line? – another major thought on Sunday after I had counted five turns at the end of the course but there was no finish line until after an unexpected sixth
• Why am I doing this? – somewhere in the middle of every race, I question the sanity of paying money, to get up early, to drive to another part of down, to run and get sweaty
• Why are there walkers near the front of the pack? – the organizers are so intentional and verbal about asking people to line up by intended pace, but there are always packs of women (sorry friends) who ignore the directions and line up in a pack of five to walk together; I love the fact they are out there too but not the fact I’m trying to get around them without getting run over myself
• How did that woman with the stroller just pass me on a hill?
• Road Kill – this is a phrase I learned from Hood to Coast; it refers to when you pass or are passed by another runner
  

As you can see, not many deep thoughts during a race, but there is a lot of music (all Taylor Swift this Sunday), some clarity by taking a break from deep thoughts, and the challenge of a clock that is ticking away.

At a meeting about a month ago, a co-worker described her musical hobby as something that came out of being asked if she could do anything with her life, what would she do.  Of course I asked myself that question during her presentation and was surprised when the answer back was “run”.  Now I don’t think I’m headed for the Olympics any time, but maybe I can somehow combine this internal answer with an external one I received a few months ago, “write”.   I’ll have to think about during my next run.

My alarm went off at 4am yesterday morning.  Now since I had only gone to bed about 5 hours before, it took two bonks of the snooze alarm before I was actually willing to respond to my Taylor Swift ringtone telling me to be “Fearless.”  In fact, if I’m being quite honest, there was a moment at 4:20am where I looked at my bed for a full minute and contemplated bagging the whole thing and going back to sleep.  Luckily I realized how many people already knew I was going to the Portland Marathon that day (thank you Facebook) and I really could not back down now.  No, I had paid over a $100 to go run 26.2 miles at 7am on a Sunday morning.  So after a quick change of clothes, and a good laugh at how strange this morning already was, I was headed for the bus stop.

Now for some reason I imagined the area before a marathon to be different from that before any other race, but I didn’t realize this expectation until I was there.  I arrived at the course start about an hour and a half before the starting bell, and for a while it seemed like it was just me, the volunteers, and some individuals who were quite unhappy to be awoken so early by all of the racket.  So to continue with the unexpected morning, I pulled out a copy of Entertainment Weekly and learned what the casts of Clueless, Arrested Development, and Melrose Place have been up to for the past few years (because what else are you going to do before running 26.2 miles..a thought that makes me laugh even afterwards).  I was part of Corral F, which put me starting about 15 minutes after the National Anthem was supposedly sung (too many buildings to bounce the sound off of) and the starting bell went off (that one I knew about because of the cheers right afterwards).

After a bit of hurry up and wait, suddenly there I was, running down Naito Avenue towards the first mile marker in what would be an over 6 hour journey.  For the first six miles I listened to a variety of music on my “Marathon Success” playlist, which I busted out again for St. John’s Bridge and the final mile stretch.  But for most of the time I was kept company by The Mark Gungor show, and listening to the hosts talk about love, marriage, and challenging church leadership to actually preach what they believe.  In many of my initial training runs I listened to these podcasts, as a way to pass time, so it was nice to be reunited for a few hours and to randomly laugh while trudging up a hill or wondering where that next mile marker would be.

Also along the way I was blessed to have a few visits by my friend Beth, who I may have thought was an angel in my delirium as she offered me a diet coke.  If I had had the energy at the time, I would have shared that she was the bestest person in the whole wide world.  Knowing that she was out there, and was going to be my ride home, was an amazing source of encouragement and reason to keep going (especially up that hill to St. John’s Bridge).

I would also like to share gratitude to the marathon organizers in general.  Oh my gosh, there were so many water stations (and logically porta potties) that is seemed like every time I was thinking about being thirsty, there was a small army of 20+ cheerful volunteers with water of fake Gatorade ready to help.  It totally freaked me out the first few times they called me by name, then I remembered that my name was on my bib number.  Whoops.  I will admit that by the end I was a bit tired of smiling at all the people cheering, but as someone near the end of the pack, it really was amazing to have so many people still there on the sidelines cheering on their love ones, and the occasionally stranger journeying by.

Beyond the pain in my knees and calves (which have me home today recovering), I tried to have some deep thoughts during the run.  See I read Second Wind last spring, about a woman who completed a marathon on every continent and experienced these spiritual revelations about herself along the way.  I didn’t expect the run to be like a spiritual quest, but perhaps a few light bulb moments would be nice.  Around mile 12 I decided that I could do this again, but decided to wait on signing up until at least mile 17 (you know when I was beyond half-way).  During the last 6 miles or so, when I really started to slow down, I was passed by many many walkers and my main thought was how much that…well the word that came to mind was a bit less than appropriate so lets just say…stunk.  Luckily a second voice in myself, probably related to the “Why Not” voice that got me into this thing in the first place, reminded me that no matter what I was still faster than someone sitting on their couch.  So when I saw at the finish line that my time was much slower than I expected or hoped, there was that second reminder of victory right away: I was about to complete my first marathon and no time on that clock could take away my win.

I had five goals going into yesterday’s marathon and am happy to share I succeeded in all but the one connected to time: don’t die, finish, run the whole thing (except for water stations, and running is defined by me not by observers), and recover enough to go to Kaitlyn’s baby shower.  And for that fifth goal, well there is just the right amount of pain in my legs and shiny on my finishers medal to say I’ll try again next time.

When completing races I’ll often see people cheering from the side of the road with signs for their friends or loved ones who are completing the run.  Sometimes the messages are more generic rather than giving a personal shout out, like “You’re all Kenyans” or “No matter how slow you run, you’re still faster than the couch.”  My favorite sign so far was one I spotted near the beginning of the Rock n’ Roll Half Marathon in Portland last spring: “This seemed like a good idea 6 months ago.”  This sign was being waved on the sidelines shortly after the start, when I still had plenty of energy to spare an audible laugh and wave at the holder.  That run was also the first time I had friends along the path who shouted my name when I passed; I had never realized what an amazing boost it could and would be to have someone there, waiting in the rain until I went by (Jim, Patricia, and Beth, Tim, Inge, and Natalie; I am still grateful for those cheers).

As I near the Portland Marathon, that sign from last spring keeps coming to mind.  In January 2012, when I signed up for my first marathon, it really did seem like a good idea.  I had almost 9 months to train, no seminary homework to get in the way, and stacks of books to tell me how to pull this off.  Now as I sit curled up at Barnes and Noble, my legs occasionally throbbing, I’m doubting my definition of a “good idea.”

Yesterday was my last long run in preparation for the marathon.  I traveled 20 miles from my apartment downtown, via Division and Burnside heading West and then back via Hawthorne and Division to get home again.  I’ve treaded over a similar course 3 times now, and have learned where the good water fountains are and where the evil hills are too (hint: they are not near each other so pack water).  I’ve also learned there are a few areas I recommend holding your breath for a few moments because of the piles of trash that have been left by motorists or people living in the area.  And I’ve learned to never ever ever ever go into the bathroom at the SmartPark on NE Davis.  Ever!

After yesterday’s run I went home to crash on the couch for a few hours, letting my legs be in charge of all decisions for at least three hours.  If they wanted to lay down, I laid down.  If they wanted to curl up in a fetal position, curled up I went.  If they offered a few minutes of quiet, then I would put away a few pieces of laundry or dishes, then back to the couch for more resting and a major Once Upon a Time marathon (I am so excited Belle is a full-time character this year!).  It’s actually freeing to put my legs in charge of all decisions for a few hours: I have a great excuse to do absolutely nothing without their say so.

So what’s next in this little adventure that seemed like a good idea 9 months ago?  Next week I have a 10 mile training, and then 6 miles the following week.  Then I put my already spent money where my mouth is.

Will it hurt? Yes.  Will it be worth it? Yes.

I’m about to write something that may shock my friends: I am a nerd.  I’ll give you a few minutes to compose yourself about this completely unexpected revelation…

Are you okay now?  Alright.  The reason I share this “duh” statement is to explain this post.  Last fall I decided that it was time to start looking towards a real deal, 26.2 mile marathon.  I had a couple of reasons for this decision.  One was that some friends, and my mother, already thought I had run several marathons and it seemed time to prove them at least a little bit right.  Another was the marathon seems to be this runners life changing experience; a chance to see how far your feet really can go.  Finally I believed I could do it and wanted to see if that faith could be supported one day.  I wanted to prove myself right, and to prove my doubts wrong.

The first step was to put my money where my mouth was and register for a marathon.  I wanted an event in my own community, one that I could know some details about in advance and maybe even get a few friends to celebrate with me along the way (hint hint).  So in January I signed up for the Portland Marathon 2012.  Then I had a small panic attack.  And then I went to the gym because I so was not ready for a marathon.

Now back to that whole I’m a nerd thing.  Part of the way I’m preparing for October is by trying to run several times a week, and the other part is reading about normal people who have successfully completed one or more marathons.  A week ago I finished Second Wind, an autobiography from a middle-aged woman who competed a marathon on every continent and learn about her inner wisdom, warrior, princess, and b!#*h along the way.  What I loved about the book was her honesty and that she was a total back of the pack runner, not an Olympian in the making.

Next up is Marathoning for Mortals.  In the third chapter, the authors present a quiz to ask yourself what your strengths and struggles are going into this training program.  And since one of the things I want to come out of my running and lifestyle choices is encouragement for others, I want to share my answers here (using the multiple choice answers when given in the text).  I am fully mortal, and I am totally going to complete a marathon in 6 months.

• What is your age? – 18-30
• What is your gender? – Female
• What is your weight? – I am 26-50 pounds over my ideal weight
• Describe your health. – I have never had any health problems.
• Describe your injury history. – I have had injuries, but they have since healed, and I am currently injury-free.
• Describe your current activity level. – I participate in some form of continuous aerobic activity most days of the week (4-6 days).
• Describe your past activity level. – I have been active for more than one year.
• What is your training goal? – I would like to run the entire race. (the text didn’t have this exact option, but I want to run the race and not only finish it)
• How many days per week can you commit to training? – 6 days per week.
• How much time can you commit to training? – 8-10 hours per week.
• List the top three factors that motivate you to exercise (e.g., lose weight, train with a group, follow a structured program, relieve stress, find time for myself, have a goal to reach for). – to learn more about who I could be, to lose weight, to explore
• List your top three challenges to finishing this training program (e.g., lack of time, lack of motivation, lack of support). – lack of time, occasional loneliness, lack of motivation regarding weight training

So that is Mortal Meg, nerd and wanna-be marathoner.