Staying close

Anyone in my family will tell you that I almost never have any trouble falling asleep or staying asleep. That is, of course, when I am sleeping in my own bed at home. My kids, Jude (9) and Maya (7) even know that they probably won't wake me up, unless they knock or talk loudly in my presence. The exception is that I generally don't sleep well at all when my husband is out of town. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, and then usually, I am in for a restless night. Good thing he rarely travels or I would be more of a zombie.

A few weeks ago, while my husband was gone for business, I was just about to drift off WAY past my usual bedtime, when I heard a little cry. I thought, "Is that Maya crying?" I hurried out of bed and to the stairs leading up to where my children have their bedrooms. The little crying started again and I quickly realized that it was Jude. I headed up to check on him. He said that he had a nightmare, and couldn't get back to sleep. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. 

"No" he said, "but can I come lay down with you for a little while?"

I said, "Sure." I thought,"Why not? It's not like I am going to sleep well anyway."

Jude came down with his favorite, very special stuffed dog, Lightning. I laid down on my side and he scooted himself close. There in the darkness, I felt a sense of calm, and of bliss. I was taking in the smell of his body wash from his recent shower, listening to him breathing quietly, and stroking his course hair. I felt completely in the present moment, and it was so comfortable to hold my son close---it was just like when he was 8 pounds, instead of 85.

If you know anything at all about 9 year-old boys, then, you know he was like a little furnace, and I was getting warm with him laying *right* next to me. I suggested, "Jude, you know you could slide over onto Daddy's side of the bed." He replied, "But I feel better laying right by you." 

That statement melted my heart, but it also it struck me. Jude rarely cuddles up with me at all anymore. I remember rocking him and holding him constantly when he was a baby. Sometimes, my arms would ache because I'd been holding him all day. As an infant, he would only sleep if he was right next to me or being held. He didn't outgrow this until he was 9 months old! Of course, through his toddler-hood and preschool years, he loved to cuddle up for bedtime stories, during movie night, and when he wasn't feeling good. These days, I have realized that although I give him little touches, and squeezes, he wasn't seeking much more than the occasional hug from me.

I am starting to wonder if cuddle time will become obsolete for me and my boy. As much as I hate the idea, I think maybe it's already started to go away. Even if cuddling goes away, I would like to think that he will trust me to comfort him forever when things aren't going well---when he's worried, scared or heartbroken. 

I know that contact is so important for us humans. And, it's not just the psychological aspect; there are brain chemicals released during hugs and cuddles. As a parent of children who appear to be “growing up” nearly daily, I think I may have to find ways to make sure our kids get contact we all need---even if they aren't seeking it. So, I think I will be more conscientious of making sure that we continue to be close throughout their growing years, teenage time, and into adulthood. These two kids are my special people and I want to make sure they always know it.

10K: The Perfect Race Distance

It seems like over the last few weeks or so, I’ve noticed several places where either bloggers, magazines or other running related outlets, have been asking runners which racing distance is their favorite. 

What Racing Distance Is Your Favorite:

5K? 10K? Half-Marathon? Marathon? Ultras—50K, 50-mile or even 100-milers??

For a lot of people who run, it is an interesting question to ponder.  After reading though the other people’s responses, I noticed (unscientifically, of course) that a lot of people prefer the half-marathon distance. One person said something like: “A half-marathon just long enough that you feel like you did something, but not too long to be overwhelming.”  Hmm, I don’t fall in step with these people.

After having now raced in 5 half-marathons, a marathon, and some sprinkled-in 5Ks, I still love running the 10K distance more than all others.  Maybe it’s because this is the distance I chose to race when I started racing back in July 2009? First love, perhaps?  It’s true that I fell in love with the10K and never looked back. I’ve heard that those who are born in the Aquarius sign are likely to fall in love quickly, and are very loyal. Maybe astrology is telling me something about running AND life?  Ha! Since that time, I’ve run more than 25 10Ks and counting.

But, why? Why do I love this 6.2 mile race more than any other distance?  What makes this distance special or different than any other?

The10K is important in its own way because you have to combine speed and endurance over the 6.2 miles.  Half-marathons and marathons are so much about endurance, mental planning and patience. My temperament doesn’t wait very well; I like to get things done, now, like right now!! And, the 5K is just a glorified sprint. From the moment you start a 5K you are running hard and nearly…almost, gasping for breath with your legs burning the whole way. Yikes.  

Hagg Lake 10K 2012

The 10K brings the two ideas together in a complete union.  Run fast, run steady, and keep running your body neither too fast nor too slow. Honestly, that’s the recipe for a Perfect 10K.  You are literally right on the edge of your anaerobic threshold---not quite out of breath, but not really able to speak more than a few words.  Your legs are tired, but not too tired. Your mind is thinking about running the part of the race you’re running right now, and nothing else. There are no concerns about how much is left to go or how you ran the previous few miles.

Running this way makes me feel like I’m doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.  When it all comes together, it is the best feeling in the world because it’s utterly quiet.  It’s just me out there---cruising along, moving forward, staying smooth and running the perfect race.  

Something Unexpected at the Portland Marathon

Now that my legs feel normal again and not like ground sausage, I am beginning to reflect on my first marathon experience.  They say the marathon is different from all other races. And, being a person who mostly runs 10k races, I always thought that was just what marathoners said to set themselves apart from “other distance runners."  Since I have essentially tied a neat bow on the Portland Marathon 2012, I can honestly say that it was truly different than any race I have ever run.  And, not just farther in distance or longer in time; it was physically, mentally and emotionally different.



A hot afternoon run in shady Forest Park



On race day, I felt ready. Anyone who knows me knows that I don’t hastily jump into things.  I prepare, I plan, and at times, I fret. I had prepared physically by tirelessly following a 16-week training plan and logging more than 655 miles during that time. I felt mentally prepared by forcing myself to run on hot, humid afternoons and early mornings when I really didn’t want to run all.  On those warm days, I would have rather sat in the shade with a book, and when the alarm buzzed at 4:30am, I really wanted to stay in my lovely bed. I even set up my iPod playlist carefully to include slower songs at the beginning, increasing in tempo and intensity toward the end.

My plan going into the race was to run the first half slower than the second half.  My goal time was to run between a 3:30 and a 3:35.  I decided to follow Bart Yasso’s strategy for running a 3:30, since to run a 3:30, you need to run about an 8-minute mile overall.  Bart said to run an 8:05-8:10/mile for the first 10 miles, then an 8:00/mile pace for the second 10 miles, and then run the last 6 miles at 7:55/mile.  No problem.  This was completely doable.

I remember waiting at the starting line in the early morning.  I was full of anticipation, excitement and ready to move. I tried to stay loose, stretch, and relax. I heard so many voices running through my head. Friends who had wished me well, saying “No one trains as hard as you…you got this.” and, “Good luck today. You’re right in there to qualify for Boston.”  To “qualify” for Boston, you have to be in the top 5-10% of runners in the country for your age and gender [Boston qualifying time for my gender/age group is 3:40].  Boston?!? I had to put that out of my mind.

Relax.  Stick with the plan.

At the starting line, I saw a fellow runner friend with whom I had been running races for the last 2 years in the ORRC 10K Series. Brian and I always finish our 10K races within about 30 seconds of each other.  I see him at every race and he’s always very encouraging. Brian reiterated the idea of running the first half of the marathon SLOW.  Okay. I can run slow.



Around Mile 17. Still feeling pretty good.



The first 10 miles, I tried with great patience to run slow. Since I usually run 10k races, I am used to running 6:55/miles or faster.  It was difficult when, at mile 3, I saw Brian run past me.  It was very hard not to try to stay with him. I had to tell myself, “I am running my own race.” I was determined not to derail my own plans. For the first 10 miles, I averaged around an 8:05 minute/mile. Not bad, pretty close to the goal pace. Once I hit mile 10, I really wanted to run faster. It felt good to run faster.  Then right before the long hill leading up to the St. John’s Bridge, I had caught up to Brian.  We exchanged pleasantries and both of us seemed to be still feeling good.  I felt like my right hamstring was little tight, but other than that I felt well. So, I loped up the hill, and cruised across the bridge. The spectators and volunteers were so nice, saying, “Good job, Melissa, you got this.” I felt like I did.  My Garmin watch "average pace" was reading 8:03/mile. Good. Just wait until mile 20 then I could speed up and finish this thing.

Then, it just seemed to happen.  After, I ran uphill around mile 18 or 19, I felt really, really tired.  So tired.  I had planned to meet my husband, Scott at mile 20 so he could join me for the last 6 miles.  I thought it would be fun since October 7^th 2012 was our 12^th Anniversary. By the time I met up with Scott at mile 20 my legs were completely done.  Run a 7:55/mile for the last 6 miles?!! HA!  I knew that wasn’t in the cards, and I threw away the idea of running a 3:30 marathon. I watched my Garmin average pace of 8:03 slowly climb, to 8:04, 8:05… 

Running with Scott was a godsend.  He asked me if I needed anything.  I wanted to say, “Yes, can you run the rest of this race for me while I stop and take a nap??” But, that was too many words for me to manage.  After mile 22, we headed down a LONG downhill from Swan Island.  By this time, my knee joints and hip joints were hurting so bad each step felt like someone was stabbing me with a hot poker. It was a new sensation since I have never had joint pain when I’m running.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to stretch my right hamstring. I wanted to walk, I wanted to stop running. Scott said cheerfully, “Only 4 more miles!”  I thought, “Oh my, I have to run 4 more miles like this?”

I didn’t run those last 6 miles with my legs.  I ran them with sheer WILL and DETERMINATION. I knew if I stopped and started walking like so many of the people we were passing, I would never get going again.  I just wanted to get done.  Be finished.  Get myself on the other side of the finish line with my medal around my neck and a space blanket draped over me. DONE.  I also was holding on to some idea that I could still run a 3:35.  I couldn’t let all the work of the last 16 weeks fall apart.  “Hold it together.  Try not to slow down” I told myself.

As we closed in on the last 2 miles, a song came on my iPod that made me start to cry. I swallowed hard, and realized that I was mouthing along to the lyrics of Christina Aguilera’s "Fighter."

YOU-WON'T-STOP-ME

I am a fighter and I
I ain't gonna stop
There is no turning back
I've had enough

I have hurt before during races.  I have wanted to slow down, walk, or even stop all together.  But, I’ve never experienced an emotional reaction during a race. Tears? Really?

At that point, I felt like hurled myself over the Broadway Bridge and into the downtown streets of Portland.  The finish line was like a lighthouse, I was like ship lost at sea.  I was so happy to see those blue and red balloons above me.  It seemed like thousands of people were shouting my name, cheering and yelling and yet somehow,  I heard a familiar voice call, “Go Melissa!!”  It was my mom.

I made it. I glanced at my watch.  3:34:32!!  I got my medal! I got my space blanket! I was finally walking!!!

Scott and me after the race

But, walking hurt terribly too.  My hip and knee joints were so painful, my quads and hamstring were really tight, and my eyes were full of tears. I had to limp my way slowly to find my family.  As soon as I saw my husband, my two kids and my mom, I started to cry.  It was so overwhelming to keep all that I had just experienced inside of me. With the love of my family, I recovered myself pretty quickly.

I knew the race would be hard physically.  You cannot run that far at any pace without feeling some level of fatigue.  I knew I’d have to dig deep mentally, too, to keep myself on pace, to force myself to drink water and fuel my body.  But, the wave of emotion that swept over me during and after the race was something new.  I had no preparation plan in place for this sort of reaction. And, I strive to to take measure to be ready for all contingencies.

Not this day.

I love running because most of the time it helps me through tough emotional times.  This time, running was leading me to my breaking point. And, I was ill prepared for this unexpected reaction from myself.  I came through this "marathon experience" however, and now I feel different. There was so much going on inside my body and my head, but the largest part of me that felt affected was my heart (not the organ). It’s hard to put into words and maybe a little cheesy, but I felt like the race wasn’t an achievement for my body, but more milestone for my soul.

So...the question of the hour is: Will I run another marathon?? Maybe. I mean I didn’t get to the 3:30 goal this time, so there’s always next time, right?  :)