Better late than never, right?

Three days after Newport I flew home to NY for work & a few vacation days, so I'm just now getting around to a race report. Overall I had a great weekend, and would recommend Newport to pretty much anyone.

I took a half-day at work and carpooled out to the coast with my friend Sandy. She spent the night camping with a bunch of other friends that night at Beverly Beach, while I opted for a real bed and a quiet night at the Shilo Inn. (Totally the right call!) I drank a ton of water and mindlessly watched TV to calm down. I had no problem getting to sleep around 10, and woke up at 5:15 am relatively bright and cheery. I got all packed up and checked out, and made it to the Embarcadero Resort by ten after six. The Embarcadero is the finish line of the marathon; there were shuttle buses to the start line about a mile and half away. My hotel was actually quite close to the start, but there was no way to get back to the start from the finish. So rather than worry about it, I just parked at the finish (whew, tired already).

I met up with Tina and Dan to catch a shuttle to the start. It was chilly but I was comfortable enough in shorts and t-shirt. The ocean was theoretically to our left, but thick fog socked in the entire point. About 800 people lined up at the start. I was ready to go but seven AM came and went with no horn…just more time to get nervous. Eep. I was glad I knew the majority of the course, but still…26.2 miles is a long way. Why do I do this again?

Before I could sneak away and hide the horn went off. There were no timing chips, but it only took about 20 seconds to cross the start. The first five miles or so are made up of rolling hills as you go down to the water and back up toward Highway 101 in Newport. It wasn't terribly scenic, as the ocean was still M.I.A. and we were running behind houses and hotels. I found my first pace bunny at this point, a tiny little woman wearing a Maniacs singlet. I unobtrusively mimicked her pace. Soon we looped around past the starting point and down to the boardwalk. We headed up the one "major" hill in front of the Embarcadero and then were on the Bay Road proper, our home for the next ~20 miles. Right after the hill I started chatting with my Maniac pacer, and a few other ladies who'd settled in around us. I don't really remember most of it, just general marathon chat. We were doing around 8:50/min miles. Knowing I would slow down in the second half, I figured that would still be good for an under-four hour finish. As I told one of the ladies, I really just wanted to finish feeling good and happy. I lost most of them around mile 11 when I grabbed a cup of HEED on the go rather than stop.

I was glad to have people to talk to, because miles 7 through 9 are the ones I struggle with the most. By that point I've started to get tired, but there is nothing to "celebrate" yet – I haven't made it halfway, or even to the double digits. Thinking of the miles or time I have left is just depressing, as is trying to imagine passing these same landmarks again on the way back, two hours from now. Ugh. Miles 11-17 (the turnaround) are a blur…I honestly don't remember much. Once we got away from the ocean the fog lifted and it was a beautiful day, sunny and warm. Around mile 15 the lead runners starting passing us coming back. My lower back started to hurt, which was odd – I don't normally have any back problems. Luckily it didn't get beyond a vague ache. I also got a butt cramp – WTF? I've never in my life gotten a literal pain in my ass. Weird. It was totally bearable, and went away after a few minutes, but still weird.

I got something of a second wind after the turnaround, always pleasant. I'd say that carried me through to about 21-22, at which point I went on autopilot. One foot in front of the other. Motivational strategies: "Just a typical lunch-time run left;" "Just a quick run to 148th and back left;" "ONLY TWO G-D MILES LEFT". I did actually find myself saying "living in a VAN down by the RIVER" a couple of times. Awesome.

I lucked out at the end of the marathon. I'd been sticking with an older woman, not letting her getting too far ahead of me. About two miles out her boyfriend met her to pace her in to the finish. I let him pace me in too, of course! That definitely kept me from fading in the home stretch. I made sure to thank them in the finisher's area.

The last .2 miles is a steep downhill, which actually sucked. My quads were dead, and I didn't want to risk any knee issues by taking it too fast. I tried to find my friends at the finish as I came around the corner but there was a pretty big crowd. I could see the clock as I entered the chute. 3:57! Yay! My immediate need was for water. Water water water. I'd been careful to get a full drink of water or HEED at each aid station and sip from my fuel belt, up until the last four or so miles. At that point I just couldn’t stand the thought of water or HEED or Gatorade, or anything other than "FINISH LINE, KEEP MOVING, FINISH LINE, KEEP MOVING."

I showered and hung out with Tina and Dan (and got my yummy finisher's beer) until after the awards ceremony. (I won a raffle prize! A giant bottle of Hammer Gel, woohoo!) The rest of the weekend I spent sitting and/or shuffling around the campground. Oh and eating, of couse. Good times.

I took a couple of things away from this race. One, I'd really like to try a marathon without my fuel belt. That thing just cramps my style. I'm always aware that it's on, and jostling, and I never even finish the Gatorade. I'm contemplating buying a hand-held bottle. Second, I need to figure out how to get more even split times in the big M. I don't hit the wall exactly. It's more like each mile from 18 on hands me a brick that slows me down by 5 seconds. I sort of putter out.

Next up is the Timberline Marathon September 19th. Technically I should've started training last week, but I'm not running until this Saturday, when I'll head up to Powell Butte for 15 miles. I've been doing the Stairmaster, elliptical, weight training, etc., just not running. I did a couple of quick 3-5 mile runs the week after Newport and felt pretty good. I just don't want to push it. Timberline is going to be an experi-marathon. I'm using a three-day program with FIVE twenty-milers (yikes). The distance doesn't worry me though, because I'll never run two days in a row – goodbye overuse problems! Also, I'm going to try to do all my long runs either on trails or at elevation in preparation. (I already know one 20-miler will be on pavement at sea level, because I'll be in Victoria, BC that weekend.) We'll see. I'm looking forward to getting in some great trail runs around the area, and having the freedom to have fun this summer and not be chained to a training schedule.

3:57:39

And I finished feeling good! Yay!

Still a bit gimpy but feeling awesome.

1:51:57!

Had my first race since the marathon on Saturday, the Helvetia Half Marathon in Hillsboro. I went into it with mixed feelings. On the one hand I was not as well-prepared for it as I had been for the marathon. I totally slacked off in training: my longest training run was 10.5 miles and I averaged 15-20 miles per week. Pathetic! But on the other hand, I came to realize how nice it was to do things backward and get that pesky marathon out of the way first. I felt like I had nothing to prove to myself or to anyone else, and approached the race only wanting to enjoy myself. Well, that and to at least equal my halfway time in the marathon, which was exactly 2:00:00. (Seriously, they set up a clock at the exact halfway point and as I was running toward it in the canyon I realized I was going to hit two hours on the nose. Pretty neat.)
It was a gorgeous summer day in Oregon, sunny from the get-go but not too hot. My two friends who were going to run with me both bailed (thanks, guys!), so I drove out alone at 6:15 am. After crawling through the traffic from Rt. 26 to the stadium (The distance from 26 to the parking lot? About 1.5 miles. It took me 45 minutes to lurch through it. My clutch leg was getting tired and I actually worried about it affecting my performance. Anyway…), I slathered on sunscreen, decided to go with the dri-fit tank top and not the tech shirt, double- and triple-checked that I had my car key with me, and got in line for the ladies room. (Natch.)
I knew that there would be water/Gleukos stops about every mile and a half, and I really don't like wearing my hydration belt, so I left it at home. Plus I forgot my watch (can you tell I half-assed this thing?), so all together I felt oddly naked. I lined up at the start, chatted with a nice Portland Fit lady for a few minutes, then set off.
The race had both a half marathon and a 10k, which started at the same time. There were about 3,000 people at the start line – that's a lot of bodies. (Oh, and I think I half-assed it? I saw several guys getting ready to run wearing jean shorts. Doesn't that chafe?) I started out slow partly by choice and partly by circumstance. A lotta dodging and weaving the first few miles.
I took in at least a cup of water or Gleukos at every stop, and had some ClifShot at the turnaround point, even though I didn't really want it. I took it because it was there, swallowed about half, then looked futilely for a trash can until the next water stop. The famous middle hills were tough, and I was panting at the top of two of them, but overall it was great. I love running hills because they break the monotony and make the flat stretches seem so easy. I made the right call going sleeveless: by the end of the race I was H-O-T. After the mid-point it was pretty much direct-sun city for five miles. (BTW, having the photogs at Mile 12? Not cool! Dude, we were all sweating and icky.)
But that's okay, because I finished way below my goal time and 472nd out of 2607 participants. Top 20% baby! I'm like the front of the middle of the pack. :) On the last rolling hills I passed some people who were in bad shape, wheezing and soaked with sweat and what-not. I was feeling great, and I didn't know whether shouting encouragement as I passed would inspire renewed vigor or white-hot rage. So I kept my pie-hole shut.
The finish line was in the stadium, which was fun. I got my pretty green medal and stumbled over to the water table. I was thirsty but knew better than to chug, so I grabbed two cups to sip as I made my way to the car. Once I got off the freeway I drove with the window down and music blaring, checking out the medal at red lights, feeling groovy knowing that I'd gotten my weekend's exercise and it wasn't even 10:30 yet. Rock on!

Next stop: Haulin' Aspen Trail Half (how much do I love that name?) in August and the Portland Marathon in October.

Oh hey, PS - Ice baths are SO MUCH EASIER in the summer time.

So...what do I do now?

I'm still sort of in shock. I was making plans with a friend for later this week and I realized that I could go out any night I wanted. The epic awesomeness of that has not yet sunk in. I wrote a little race report below - in summary: it was great, it was hard, it went by in a flash.

I took the whole day off on Friday, even though we weren't leaving until mid-day, because I knew I would be completely useless at work. I got up at 8, packed, and then putzed around and got nervous until noon. Funny aside – clearly my mind was elsewhere when I left my house, because somehow I ended up on the on-ramp to I-84 West instead of East. Sigh. That was a fun 10-minute detour.

The drive up was unremarkable, though very pretty. Packet pick-up was a snap. The pasta dinner was good – I was glad they had lots of salad too. I didn't eat a ton, just a normal dinner. I read something while training that said if you are going to carb-load, do it two nights before (i.e. Thursday night for me), because eating a ton the night before a race will just weigh you down (and maybe make you queasy). The nutrients won't be in your system until the following night at the earliest. That's how I prepared for my long runs and it worked for me, so I stuck with it. T and I drove to our hotel in Ellensburg. (We didn't go via the course, as I read another piece of advice that said doing so tends to make first-timers nervous. Like, I have to run THIS far? I think it was a good call.) We checked the weather, I laid out all my stuff, and we were in bed by 9:30. I have bedtime-only narcolepsy (note: not a real medical condition), so I had no problems getting to sleep. The first alarm went off at 5:45 (we set three…) and I woke up immediately. Got dressed, had water, coffee, two slices of whole grain toast with butter and grape jelly, and water. T and I arranged late check-out (it required some eye-batting, since I asked for an hour later than their usual late check-out) then left for the race HQ. The race has basically taken over the local Days Inn, so I got to use an indoor bathroom rather than a porta-potty. Of course by the time I got to the start line I had to pee again (and I didn't find a vacant porta-potty until Mile 16).

I got near the back of the middle at the start, and before I knew it we were off. The first few miles I considered kind of a warm-up, and tried to find a good settled pace. I also found the first of my pace bunnies. I admit that I really had no race strategy. I just wanted to run the whole way and beat Oprah's time. At the pasta dinner, one of the women who'd run the race before said they had pacers who wore rabbit ears, hence the name pace bunnies. I was hoping to find one during the race but I guess they didn't have them this year. So, I created my own pace bunnies. I'd find someone who seemed comfortable, and whose pace I liked, and stick to them like glue (figuring pretty much everyone there has more experience than I do). The first was a guy in a blue singlet and shorts. I stuck with him for about miles 1-3. Then either he slowed down or I sped up, and I passed him. After the first aid station I started following two women who were chatting as they ran. I stuck with them for about 3 more miles, until the next aid station. They stopped; I grabbed some water and kept moving. I was on my own for awhile until I found another bunny. He was a marathon maniac and (again) I stuck with him until an aid station. I then got slowly passed by a woman in blue whom I tried to keep pace with, but I could tell she was just a little too fast. I hung back, and by then we were in the middle miles. Twas then I found the Pace Bunny to end all bunnies. Her name was Gina and she was a 100-Marathon Club Member (her singlet told me these things). I figured: Here is a woman who knows her marathons! Stick with her, kid, and you'll be fine. So I did, until tragically, she stopped at an aid station. I was torn, and for a moment I actually stopped too (and grabbed an orange slice and some pretzels). But I knew that the longer I held the still the worse it would feel to start again, so I left without Gina. ::Single tear:: I figured that if she passed me, I would just velcro myself back onto her. She never did though, although it turns out she finished only about a minute behind me.

The rest of the race I ran pretty much bunny-less, although near the end I tried (and unfortunately failed) to run faster than these two really annoying people behind me. Ugh. The major hill at Mile 22 was ghastly. My quads felt the way I imagine tenderized chicken cutlets feel after being hammered with a mallet by an angry little Frenchman. I absolutely refused to stop though, and "powered" through it (powered = ran at approximately 2 mph). After that hill it was pretty much smooth sailing. I got a lot of friendly encouragement from people I was passing. I felt good, all things considered.

The most amazing moment for me came when I ran out of the canyon and could see the finish line. All of a sudden it hit me that I was going to do it. Not only was I about to finish my first marathon, but I was going to do it exactly the way I dreamed. I'd run the whole way and I wasn't destroyed. There might have been some sobbing, until I realized it was messing with my breathing. Back to business, kiddo.

I got to the finish, I got my hug, my rose, my hi-tek space blanket, and my medal, plus some fig newtons that were the absolute best thing I'd ever tasted in my life. T was crying. Strangely, I was not.
**
I think I've caught the bug. I started looking around to see when my next marathon will be. I should've signed up for Newport, danggit, which is now full. The Eugene Marathon is May 5 but it's like $105. Yowza!! North Olympic is in June, and only about $65. I think I'll aim for that. Oh, and yes, everyone I know (except Steve the fellow marathoner) thinks I've lost my remaining marbles.

PS - My new goal MIGHT be to qualify for Boston. But I just don't know if I care that much.