Neither Wind nor Rain

I truly believe that a race is run in an athlete’s mind before ever reaching the course. It all starts with the desire, a goal, an ambition and unwavering determination to cross the finish line. Putting my own goals, desires, ambitions and unrelenting determination to the test in Edinburgh on 22 May moved the mental race plan once again to the physical.

Sixteen weeks prior, on a cold 31 January, I began on the road to Edinburgh, my 9th marathon. This city, the capital of Scotland, is where five years ago I learned to respect the 26.2 mile long-distance race. It is where I crossed my very first marathon finish line and realized what I was capable of; to become a Marathoner, and knew I had more within me. So it was only fitting to revisit the location of Arthur’s Seat, The Edinburgh Castle, The Royal Mile, and stroll in Holyrood Park, to return to absorb the atmosphere of bagpipes, tartans, windswept streets and the mix of the amazing architecture of Edinburgh Old and New Towns.

We planned our arrival time to be in Edinburgh before the morning commuter traffic built up. It was a scenic drive up the motorway through the Northern Lake region of England, across the border passed Gretna Green and onto a duel carriage-way, then a more rural road from our western approach to the city.

Arriving early at our hotel meant we needed to wait for our room to be ready. With no race activities scheduled for the day, while waiting, we took in the fantastic sites of the city. This would be the only day we would be able to walk any great distance, and we did.

Friday morning my husband left for his three mile run and shortly after I followed the same route. Memories of five years ago flooded back to me as I retraced the route I had taken then. Even though it was early, the city was waking to commuter buses, cyclists and taxis. I ran along the well visited Princess Street with the beautiful and majestic Edinburgh Castle high above me on my right. I ran passed the Scott Monument, The Nelson Monument, and finished at my turn around point of the Balmoral Hotel. Before reaching my halfway point, my speedy husband and I passed each other and stopped to exchange a bit of encouragement before continuing on our way; he back to the hotel and me yet to complete my half way distance.

Saturday was the final two mile easy paced run. I was out again in the early morning following the same route to Princess Street but this time turning just passed the Scott Monument (dedicated to Sir Walter Scott). I had hardly stepped from the hotel and my earlier- out-the-door husband was finishing his run. After a quick exchange we continued in opposite directions, with me on towards the one mile mark. Once reached, I briskly retraced my steps with the knowledge that the next run I would undertake would be more than 24 miles longer.

The afternoon was very low key; focus on packing the remaining items to our kits bags, organizing our race gear, setting a wake up phone call for 0400, and a last walk over to Starbucks for lunch and the local running store across the street. We were concerned about the weather as winds and rain had been forecasted for the next morning. We made sure that included in our kit bags were the appropriate rain protection.

We went to the hotel restaurant to enjoy our pre-arranged, pre-race staple dinner of jacket potato, cheese and salad. Disappointingly it wasn’t satisfying enough so on return to our room we rounded it off with a bit more carbs of a cheese sandwich and a quiona salad. Then, to try and calm my nerves, I feel asleep mentally re-running my last long. The restful silence was shattered by the wake-up phone call; Marathon morning had begun.

Once again I followed through with the well memorized pre-race routine; natural peanut butter sandwiches , fruit, and a recovery drink prepared for after race fuel, my Camelbak filled to the rim with SIS sport drink, a breakfast of muesli, soy milk, banana; then showered and dressed to be ready for a 0700 hotel departure to walk the 1.5 miles to the start.

There is a unique quietness that accompanies the migration of racers to the start on a marathon morning. It’s like a homing beacon signalling and lighting the way through the city streets to beckon us along. Thus it was for my husband and me as we walked along the route we had run just days before in training.

There were two start areas, and due to my husband’s quicker finishes he was with the faster racers and their start was a further half mile along a different road. We walked and talked about the race, our preparations, our shared goals, and our finish area meeting plans. The quiet buzz of anticipation was beginning to accelerate as more runners arrived and the race marshals made adjustments to nearby equipment. Knowing that I needed to walk back to my start road and begin my own preparation, I embraced and kissed my husband, wished him an incredible race and made my way through the approaching athletes.

The half mile walk to my start road enabled me to see the starting mats that I would soon be crossing. Continuing up the hill, music and race announcements mingled with the voices of thousands of anxious runners. I found a low wall to sit on while I made my final preparations; over-pants removed, shoes and socks replaced with race ones, jacket and after race items placed in kit bag and throw away sweatshirt and space blanket secured around my shoulders. All this done before the first of the rain started. I received one more text from my husband wishing me well, and after replying, I stowed my phone in my waist belt, secured my stars and stripes bandana and turned my kit bag in to the truck that would take it to the finish for my retrieval. One last port-a-loo stop and it was time to position myself toward the beginning of the purple corral.

Somehow amongst all those thousands of runners I was alone with my thoughts. I drifted from wondering how Graham was doing in his start area, when would he start, to keeping warm by doing a bit of foot shuffle while clutching my sweatshirt and space blanket. Unexpectedly we began to move, I draped the sweatshirt over the side rail to be collected for charity distribution. I wished the woman next to me a good race as I continued my approach to the start line. I tied the space blanket to another rail as the pace quickened. Soon I could see the first of the timing mats and I crossed over with the electronic beep registering my foot strike and start time exactly as I started my Garmin.

I had prepared a race pace band with a new goal time of 5:35:00, an ambitious time as this required a 12:47min/mile pace, quicker than I had ever planned before. I glanced at it as I continued the downhill towards Holyrood Park and the impressive Arthur’s Seat. This was not the time to doubt my training, or worry about previous marathon quad and calf issues. I needed to focus on my breathing, keep my thoughts positive and watch my pace.

The rain at the start had given way briefly as I momentary looked at my watch near the first mile marker, 10:33! Once again I had been caught up in the adrenaline fuelled beginning miles. The course made its way passed the Leith Links and the rain returned. Flashbacks to five years ago and running on some of these same streets jarred my memory as I approached the four mile mark, my watch showed less than 46 minutes, I was getting faster.

I could see the sea front road ahead and once more my thoughts went back to 11 June 2006 and my first marathon on these same roads. The course had changed but I couldn’t forget the spot where I crossed over twenty miles for the first time, I was now crossing over it at just five miles.

Onward along Portobello Promenade and the Firth of Fourth to my left and the 10K mat; my time was 1:12:40 and I was four minutes ahead of my pace band. The cheers and encouragement from spectators fuelled my determination to keep to my finishing goal. My breathing was comfortable, not laboured; my stride was constant , not difficult; my pre-race niggles were not even whispers.

As I approached the double digit miles, the course had a frustrating twist, it took me right passed the finish line! It would take me another 17 miles to get back to that spot! I turned my focus to reaching the half way point and perhaps catching a glimpse of the lead runners as for the majority of the rest of the course we would be passing each other in opposite directions.

Soon after passing mile 12 and the welcome water station I caught sight of motorcycles, then the lead race vehicle as they approached and followed by the lone swiftest racer. He was nearing 24 miles to the applause and cheers of spectators and us fellow racers who had only completed half his distance. I watched as additional racers came into view and hoped that I would catch sight of my husband before my route turned away from the oncoming soon to be finishers. However, I was forced to follow the road as it turned away from the shared road and missed seeing him. I crossed the half way mat nearly 10 minutes below my watch band time; 2:37:16…I had never run a half distance that quickly!

Could I keep this pace? Could I run a sub 5:30 marathon? Could my legs hold out without cramping? Would my breathing remain steady and constant? Questions started to filter into my mind as the rain started again and the wind became more pronounced along the openness of the seafront rural type road. I just wanted to reach the distant turn around point passed the 30K and feel the mental reward of running towards the finish line. If only I knew what awaited at that directional shift!
The WIND! There was a slight incline to the turn around point and once I changed directions the wind was unrelenting. Except for two detour type turns from the sea front, the remainder of the course would be with a head wind!

With these conditions and the fatigue I started to experience my time was slipping. The rain briefly returned, I noticed the oncoming runners behind me, I pushed my body and took necessary walk breaks. I kept my concentration by timing these breaks and then forcing myself against the wind to pass others in front of me.

I counted down the mile markers…..5 left, 4 left…just 3 more miles. My breathing was still strong, my body was getting weaker though. The wind made for added effort and my mind needed to sharpen me to keep focused.

At the 24 mile area there were crowds lining the street. I saw finished racers walking with their kit bags and medals around their necks. I was so close now, I had to push on. My time had slipped even more and I was beginning to doubt if I would finish better than in Philadelphia 6 months earlier.

My calf muscles were getting tight, my hamstrings were aching. I could just walk it in if I wanted. I could let a personal best wait until next time. NO! I had run this race in my mind and in my mind I had done a PB, and that is what I wanted. Somewhere, somehow and with the cheers of those spectators in my ears and a little more than a mile to the finish , I regained my rhythm. Run, then quickly walk, run, then a quick walk and then mile 26!

My legs wanted to buckle and they ached. My hamstrings wanted relief, but I pressed on. RUN IT IN!, my mind shouted. RUN! Finally I could see the finish banner, my time was still good. I could do this, I WOULD do this. RUN and you will make that PB time! Don’t give in, you can stop and rest when you cross that final mat. RUN till you hear the electronic buzz! Breathe, press ahead.

This was my own final battle. Here is where my months of training, cross training, boxing, reading, nutrition and mental talk would show. I RAN! I focused on the finish gates ahead of me. I watched as the clock numbers moved. I RAN! Then finally and with a last push of body and mind I heard the electronic buzz! I had done it! I finished my 9th marathon in a new personal best time of 5 hours 36 minutes and 37 seconds…close to a minute better than in Philadelphia!

(P.S. Speedy Graham finished with another PB: 3:17:59!)

There are hills, and then there are Bradford City Half Marathon Hills! (my entry for the 5th annual WWFOR!)

I don’t recall right off how many half marathons I have run. But I can say that I have never run one as difficult as the one I ran on Sunday! I go by the name“Hillrunner” on a health realted website (Sparkpeople) because no matter which road I choose to come back home, I have to come up hills to get back to my village. At the Bradford City Half Marathon yesterday, I more than earned my name!!!
Bradford is a small city a little more than an hour east of me over in the county of Yorkshire, UK through the Yorkshire Dales (Moors) and into “Bronte Country”. Those of you familiar with English Literature will recognize the Wuthering Heights setting by Emily Bronte. The countryside is vast, expansive, picturesque and full of hills!!
Graham and I made the early morning trip to be ready prior to the 9am start. It was clear, cool, and crisp. Dropping off our kit bag to retrieve at the finish we made our way to the start funnel. Since he is much quicker than me I remained half way back as he moved closer to the start line. The chip timing would be very helpful as it would give an accurate accounting of my finish. My training for my marathon had being going well so I was optimistic that I could do a PB in this race. All that was going to change after mile 4!
With the sound of the start horn ringing in my ears, it only took seconds for me to cross the mat and start my ascent that I would soon learn would just go on and on and on. I was on my goal pace of 12 min/mile until in mile 3 the climb took a sharp increase. The total ascent for the first 4 miles was over 600 feet!! When we reached the 6 mile mark the elevation had already hit 1,000 feet. I kept thinking that what goes up MUST come down, eventually??!!
The crispness of the day and freshness of the air made the hilltop running spectacular and at about miles 7-8 I started to feel like my breath was returning. The panoramic views were stunning and I soaked them in. The locals dotted the rural roads and offered their much welcomed cheers of support. I relished the spotty downhill places and let my gears open up and relaxed enough so that when the road levelled off and undoubtedly climbed again I had the leg strength and stamina to keep going.
I had considered printing out a pace band to wear during the race, but after the first half I was glad that I was just depending on my Garmin to guide me. I think I might have gotten too disheartened to see the goal time I was aiming for slipping further away with subsequent miles. What looks good on paper is just that, it doesn’t take into account what will be met on the road, and these roads were incredible!
By now at mile 9 the ascent seemed to turn into a slow decent with short teasing and leg punishing uphill parts. I found my mile splits beginning to even out with being able to sprint on the downhill. Then came the cruelness of the “king/queen of the mountain” challenge part. Nearing mile 11 where the road takes a steep downhill the bottom had been equipped with a timing mat and the challenge was which ever man and woman that could make the quickest assent up the almost half mile 200 foot elevation gain would win a “King/Queen of the hill” shirt. Those who had gone before me had nothing to worry about. I inwardly chuckled as I passed over the bottom mat and saw what awaited ahead! My run had turned into a hand on quads slower paced “just get this over with” as I climbed to finally meet the timing mats pair at the top.

I pushed hard as I crested the top of the hill and along the now tree lined street I welcomed the cheers of those there to witness the final downhill run of that last 1.5 miles. I found myself running alone in full flow down the middle of the traffic free road. Those applause were for only me and I used them as fuel to enable me to increase my pace. I could feel the pressure on my toes; I told myself I was strong. I could feel tightness in my left quad; I told myself I had strong legs. I could feel the tiredness creeping into my breathing; I told myself this race would be finished in less that 20 minutes and to just continue to flow down into the park like water rushing down a hill side.
I then saw the left turn into the park and passed several other runners I had seen at the start and now were just attempting to put one tired foot in front of the other. I found new energy as I sped passed Sunday park visitors and half marathon completed athletes, and shouted a warning of “RUNNER” to alert them to not get in my way. I desperately wanted to finish strong and not collide in the final 400 meters!
I had a sneaky feeling that this race was going to end the way it had started…uphill..and I was right. The run through the park and to the very edge made it necessary to do a u turn up the other side. I dug deep into what reserve I had left and pushed on and then saw Graham poised in the distance to capture my final moments. He snapped and then joined me along side to encourage me to just keep focused and I was nearly there. He told me I had done a great time on that difficult course. He then stopped to enable me to make the final right turn along the finishing funnel and step over the timing mat with a finish of 2:47:07.
I was exhausted, elated, breathless and extremely pleased at my determination to not once give up during this race. Not once did I let up and relax my attack. This race was more than a half marathon to me, it was a testing ground for what I am made of. I'm ready, I'm prepared, bring on the PHILADELPHIA MARATHON! (On this very difficult course, speedy Graham finished in a remarkable time of 1:37:08 and finished 2nd in his age group.)

London's Legend and My Marathon

The inspirational reading on my daily calendar today pretty much sums up my attitude toward marathon running—“If you can’t fly, run. If you can’t run, walk. If you can’t walk, crawl. But by all means, keep moving”. King

Sometimes during the course of the 26.2 miles (42K) marathon distance I go through each of the above phases. However, my mind remains fixed on that waiting, beckoning finish line, and I continually push onward. This was the pull London had on me even before stepping into my start corral at Blackheath on 25 April 2010 in Greenwich. Because a race/event begins long before the starting line it; it’s that idea that I CAN DO THIS, and so I WILL.

My husband and I arrived in London Thursday afternoon and followed our three time before routine of getting to our hotel, dropping our bags and heading to the race expo to secure our numbers, kit bags and scour the exhibitor booths for clothing, running gadgets and the like. This is always a memorable occasion and we always document it with photographs. Often times we or I return the next day catch any last opportunity to pick up a bargain or catch a glimpse of any running celebrity.

So it was that Friday morning we made a return trip after an evening’s think about some new shoes. It was on our sweep through the show floor that we noticed people congregating at one of the booths and on closer inspection my husband excitedly came back over to me and announced that it was Paula Radcliffe!! OH MY!!! Paula...THE Paula was standing just a few feet away from us and we had cameras in hand.... (If you aren't aware, Paula is the World Record Holder for the Women's Marathon 2:15:25 and is from the UK and ran it in London) We joined the autograph/picture line and the Legend that is Paula was gracious as she signed my running shoe and posed for a never to be forgotten photo! I babbled something about how we had just watched two nights before, for inspiration, our recording of the 2008 NYC Marathon which we ran and she won. Meeting her was like being touched by running royalty and sprinkled by magic dust. The experience left me in awe and wowed by a very special pre-marathon moment.

On Saturday it was time to turn our focus to preparing for Sunday’s race. We had both finished our last easy paced shorter distance runs around Canary Wharf and even got to run along the marathon route marked by the this years RED line (in recognition of the Virgin Corp sponsoring the race). Our evening pre race meal was jacket potatoes with cheese and a light salad provided by room service so we would do as little walking as possible. Marathon Sunday Morning started early; 0400 and we were awake with nerves already in second gear!

Always before a race my stomach just churns with excitement and I do my best to calm them by just robotically going through the same routines of preparing muesli/fruit/milk breakfast, packing after race sandwiches and drinks; mixing up sport drink for my hydration pack during the race ( I don’t use the race provided drink, don’t like it), showering and then putting the last items in the kit bag to carry up to the start area to be then deposited in the trucks that will transport them for me to collect at the finish. At 0700 we left our hotel and began the exodus of the “Red Bag People” towards Greenwich.

I had planned our route to the start with precision so we would have as little walking as possible. We took the Docklands Light Railroad from the Docklands area to Greenwich where we walked a short distance to catch the above ground train to the next stop at Maize Hill. Then it was an approximate one mile uphill to the start areas.

As my husband had secured a good for age entry his start area would be different than my club provided entry and once guiding him to his GREEN START area and giving him a kiss and wishing him a strong and fast finish time, I walked onward to the larger BLUE start.

My mind now began its focus on the task at hand; prepare myself during the next hour or so with the routines I have done six times before. These routines do help to settle me in some respects, but as the minutes creep towards that moment of turning in my kit bag my nerves just go into overdrive.

I mentally check off from my list each item as I finish; potty breaks, waist pack of gels, phone, tissues, money, ibuprofen secured; watch replaced with Garmin, USA bandana secured on my head, MP3 player on arm and playlist cued and ready to go; race shoes replaced walking shoes; over-pants removed. A quick phone call to my hubby over in the green start and a final strong running wish and then I hurriedly put on the rain poncho obtained at the expo from one of the charities as the predicted spot showers begin and then turn in my kit bag; it’s TIME! Time to go to my start corral. Time to trust my training. Time to make another Marathon Memory! Time to DO LONDON, again!

The race start areas are divided into 3 sections; RED, BLUE, and GREEN. The elite races all begin from the BLUE start. The Elite women were already on the course and by the scene on the big screen they were already past the 5K mark! Next the wheelchair athletes began and that would signal just 5 minutes until the Elite Men and the Mass start. Too far from the start line to hear the start signal it was the view across the grass field of a sea of runners moving that alerted me the marathon had begun. Nine minutes later I could see the start gate and then hear the electronic bond of my timing chip with the mat. MY race had now started.

There had been a glitch in the last 10 minutes prior to my start…my Garmin 305 would NOT turn on! The instrument I was counting on to help me maintain and gauge my pace/speed/HR was not going to be available. I was devastated! I was going to be running blind and it shook me. The only hope I had of knowing how I was doing was to notice the clock time at the mile markers and try to keep the same margin of minutes throughout the course. (Something to be said about keeping a watch on the other wrist.)I had prepared a race time band that would be of some assistance when mentally attempting to figure my pace/splits.

I was listening to my body and my own breathing to gauge how I was running. I could tell I was at a quick pace the first couple of miles. As runners streamed past me I kept my focus on what I felt like. How was my body responding? It is so easy to get caught up with what the “others” are doing and attempt to keep pace.

The rain had passed and now the humidity of the morning began to settle in. I registered the “Come on Mary” shouts I heard as I passed by the spectator lined street sides. I passed the 5K marker with a split that was quicker than my pace band. I was on target for my desired finish. This is the area of the course where the RED start runners join onto the road I was on. The road remains divided for a short distance and then we run as ONE unit until the finish.

Water stations were provided more frequently than the mile distance previously arranged as organizers anticipated temperatures into the mid 70sF. This was not the case as the cloud cover stayed with us well into the halfway point.

I kept focus as best I could with the music softly playing in my ears so I could also soak in the on course entertainment. My 10K split was still slightly under my projected time. It seemed like each pub along the way had either a band outside or music blaring from speakers to cheer and encourage us along. The children’s attempts to “high-five” us as we went by was as if to capture some of that “magic dust” I felt when I met Paula just two days previous.

The turn onto Tower Bridge always takes me by surprise! It sends chills and brings a wide smile because to see that span above you is simply amazing and words can’t express. It’s one of the very few uphill in the course and is deafening by 3 deep rows of cheering and shouting spectators. This is defiantly the first “ROCK STAR” moment of the race.

The clouds for the moment had passed and warm sunshine necessitated a few side stepping diversions into the course provided showers. The short respite was a welcome relief as I now was entering the part of the course where the quicker runners were at mile 22 and I was barely half way.

My eyes scanned the approaching fast flowing ribbon of sub 3:30 projected finishers for my husband. If we were both on pace there was a possibility of us passing so I positioned myself along the left side of the road. These amazing athletes were moving at close to twice my pace and deserved respect for their achievements. Due to my pace in the previous 10K I realized that my husband was well passed this portion of the course and nearing his final few miles along The Embankment. How I wish I was that close to finishing! The course now turned and headed toward the Isle Of Dogs and the Docklands; a portion of the race that had unravelled me before.

Going through the mile markers at 15 and 16 I could tell my time was slipping. I was developing an uncomfortable ache in my periformis (R glut muscle) and it wouldn’t stop. I had some pain relief pills that as a last resort I took at mile 16. I pressed on and the support at Mile 17 was encouraging and the smells of barbeques and Sunday lunches filled the air. I was now approaching the financial district of Canary Wharf and the tall glittering office buildings and the winding streets. I could feel a rubbing on the top of my R foot and could tell that the area was raw and if I didn’t stop for assistance I would not be able to endure the final 7 miles.

Reluctantly at 19 miles I sought out the St. John’s Ambulance first aid station and asked for assistance. This stop I knew would cost at least 10 minutes in my final time, but you do what you have to do. With a now bandaged toe I vowed that I would attempt to catch some of the runners that had passed by while I was being treated.

Blocking the discomfort of my glut muscle, the tightness in my IT Band and the bandaged toe, (all on my R leg) I continued my pursuit of the golden finish gates just 6 miles further. I approached the area where over an hour before I witnessed the sea of quicker runners pass me, now I passed the dismantling crew removing signs across the barrier. The Blackfriars Tunnel was ahead and crowds of people still adorned the overpass. A sign above announced that in just THREE miles I would make history! I held on to that thought….THREE, just three more miles.

Entering the tunnel I needed to stretch my tight IT Band and found the tunnel side a suitable stretching post. Then it was off again to make my way through the dampness and asphalt stickiness from sport drink/gels to the light of The Embankment and the River Thames.

Here I welcomed the tree sheltered street, the view of the Thames to my left, The London Eye further along and then the tall soldier like stance of Big Ben. Cheering crowds were still present as a woman ahead caught my focus. I remembered her passing me while I was stopped for assistance, I was now determined to not only catch her but stay ahead of her. My mind shifted to something to divert its continual reminder to me of the bodily discomforts I was feeling. Now I could reel her in foot strike by foot strike. Before the turn onto Birdcage walk, less than a mile from the finish I overtook her and planned to keep it that way.

Big Ben’s loud 4 o’clock chiming announcement singled to me that I was now 15 min beyond the finish time I was hoping for. I pressed on and continued running when others around me had been reduced to continual walking. It hurt my hip more to walk than run, so I kept running. I ran passed the Houses of Parliament, passed earlier finishers making their way from the area, passed the overhanging sign that stated just 385 yards left. Passed the 800 metre sign, then the 400 metre. I know that is just once around the track....I kept that illustration as I pressed forward.

Buckingham Palace was on my left the quick lean to the right, the large projection screen on the left and then that final welcoming right turn to see the yellow finish gates across the expanse of the Mall. Applauding and cheering crowds lined the finishing straight either in the stands or against the fences, The Union Jack adorned the flag posts and photographers positioned themselves to capture the last steps of a long yet rewarding journey to the awaiting final timing mat. My arms outstretched, I mentally pulled that gate toward me and ran through the finish line of my seventh marathon.

No personal best time like my husband’s amazing 3:18:43, no second goal time of less than 6 hours because Big Ben’s chime announcing 4 o’clock signalled that. Just the warm satisfaction of completing something I had set as a goal in the best manner I could. I kept moving and finished in 6:18:01....and never ever quit!

Why Run?

I was asked to write an article concerning my running for our village newsletter. This is my submission:

I was never an athlete, never thought myself capable of doing long distance running or any type of running for that matter. All that changed in 2004 when I signed up for the Race For Life and got hooked. With 6 marathons, 8 Halves, several 10 milers, countless 10ks, 5 Miles and training runs, I now say: I AM AN ATHLETE!

You might wonder why someone would brave the cold, the uncomfortable heat, brisk winds, pelting rain, early Saturday morning long runs, additional longer distances, muscle aches, bruised toenails, and all the other trophies running provides. What could possibly be the motivational force that would propel them onward day after day, mile after mile? My journey along this trail began as a tribute to my mother’s battle with Cancer and the honour of her memory. I pay her homage each time I run and remember her 2 ½ year battle with a disease that has probably touched all of our lives. Once I completed that race I wanted to find out just how far I could run and how strong my body was.

As if stepping stones I set myself goals of turning my run/walking outings into further and further running only distances. I began exploring the various routes available in and around my village. I thought of which hill I wanted to return on and that helped me to decide which exit path I would use. It didn’t take long for me to learn much of the geography of the area as I didn’t limit my excursion to just the roads. Great cross county footpaths criss-cross this beautiful area and are a joy to explore. I began finding extensive information on internet websites, magazines, and from other runners. I was reading all things running.

The Ribble Valley 10K hosted by the Blackburn Road Runners was my first race of that distance. It was freezing cold, icy and glorious! I had achieved a goal I had worked months for. So the obvious question was: What’s next?

Again I wanted to see what I could achieve and the next logical step up would be to run a Half Marathon to celebrate a year anniversary of running. I prepared myself by entering races of shorter distances and working myself up to the 13.1miles of a Half Marathon. A blistering hot, hazy June 2005 Sunday in Blackpool was my testing ground. Despite the smouldering oppressive noontime completion, I smiled as I approached the finish line to receive my event medal. Again it was time to ponder that question: What’s next?

Could I take that huge leap from a half marathon to a full marathon in a year? Could I celebrate my second running anniversary with a 26.2/42K mile glory run? If I truly wanted to see what I was capable of and how far I could push myself then the answer had to be YES! There would be hundreds of training miles to complete, hundreds of hours of time to prioritize for training, and hundreds of pounds to set aside for shoes, running events, clothing, assorted gear and nutritional needs. Yet even after considering all of that I eagerly signed up to run the June 2006 Edinburgh Marathon.

Preparation for Edinburgh included the Cardiff Half Marathon where I watched my husband complete his first of now eight outstanding marathons. I saw firsthand a glimpse of what 26.2 miles could do to an athlete’s body; the grimace from hours on one’s feet and the intense soreness that makes simple walking up stairs a hardship. I also witnessed the immense pride of accomplishment that radiated from his face and those of the other marathoners when they crossed the long toiled for finish line. I wanted to experience that. I wanted to forever have that memory and carry it with me into the years ahead.

So it was to be; June2006 in the beautiful city of Edinburgh, on another hot and steamy June Sunday I ran with my heart the 26.2 miles of my very first marathon. Even though I prepared well, trained hard and was mentally ready, I didn’t know on the day what I would experience. Although there were thousands of racers out there on the course, I was alone in my thoughts. It was me putting the miles to the road. It was me feeling the body aches and stings of sweat in my eyes. It was me that was for the first time running over the 20 mile mark. And it was me seeing an arch of deep blue balloons hovering over the finish line at the foot of Arthur’s Seat beckoning me onward until I too crossed over the line; arms outstretched and tears streaming down my face. I was now and forever a Marathoner! I have the joy of replaying that moment anytime I wish.

For someone who isn’t a runner it may be hard to understand the reply to the question, “Why would you put yourself through that again and again?” I could start by saying that I love travelling to cities such as Dublin, London, Edinburgh, New York, Berlin, or Boston; of meeting and/or watching elite athletes strive for perfection in their encounters . I could add that it’s a wonderful hobby that my husband and I both share hence the hours we converse, plan, and support one another at various events and training. I could add that I enjoy perusing over the thousands of race/running photos we have taken and, the scrapbooks I have put together that chronicle our achievements. I could show you the dozens of event shirts, race mugs, coasters, and various other mementos that we have collected as awards for a job well done.

Those are all tangible reasons why I run, but not the real reason. For the real reason why I and perhaps many others run lies deep within us. It is a force that urges us outside, to pit ourselves against the elements, our inner thoughts, our doubts, our ambitions. To allow me to feel the exhilaration that occurs when I finally crest the hill and look to my right and see the immense expanse of the Ribble Valley. To feel the rush of wind in my face and hair as I push just a little bit more, a little bit faster, on the downhill towards my village.

I savour these moments and events. For I know that there will come a day that I won’t be physically able to do these runs. They will have become collectables to adorn my memory. But for today, I run. Because I can! What about you? Why not lace up and make some incredible memories!

Gotta Gear Up!

I have been slowly putting my mind into "marathon mode" these past couple of weeks. My marathon running hubby and I have decided that we plan to register for the Chicago marathon when the registration opens up in late January. I know the Marathon is a little less than a year from now but I needed something to focus on and put my mind in the right space.

Well now I have even more reason to shift gears! I am so excited I'm jumping up and down inside and just going to have to take a celebratory run today! My running club has come through for me again!!! I didn't get a place in April's 2010 Virgin London Marathon in the ballot, BUT since I got rejected from that and the club received 4 spaces, I GET ONE!!!

Yes I am a bit nutz and you might agree (esp if you read my Berlin Marathon blog account) to be so excited about putting my body through another 26.2 miles and over 500 training miles but I am like a Cheshire cat!! SOOO thrilled!

So if all goes to plan, that will be TWO marathons in 2010: London (April) and CHICAGO (Oct!) Now, gotta go lace up and hit the road, I've got a run planned!!

Bringing Berlin Home...The long way

Marathon Woman. That’s what my shirt reads, and that is what I am. Back in April of this year at the Boston Marathon expo I had the honour of meeting and conversing with Kathrine Switzer. I had just purchased her book just a few days earlier but knew a bit of her fantastic story. (If you don’t know who she is you MUST Google her name and learn. If you are a woman and run marathons, you have her dedication to the sport to thank!) So it’s no wonder I chose that shirt to wear as my hubby and I slowly walked the 3 miles back to our hotel after a hot yet satisfying Berlin Marathon on 20 September 2009.

With an ankle injury that hampered my training I was frustrated and concerned about how I would do during the race. I had to alter my training runs to compensate for time lost and performance limitations.

There was a churning in my stomach when I counted the weeks left and the shortcomings of my training. Sensing my anxiety, my marathon running husband asked how I was feeling concerning the upcoming race. I explained my concerns and told him of the various physical niggles I was experiencing. He wisely suggested to me that to go to Berlin and ENJOY the experience; to run to the best of my ability on the day and take it all in.

Hearing that was like writing me permission slip to go and do. I knew that I had a running base of 5 years, of 5 previous marathons and training, of determination, perseverance, and endurance. I would not be able to race this marathon due to my shorter training but I could run it, walk when I needed to, enjoy it, soak it in, and complete it. This is what I set my mind to do, for you see, I believe we run a marathon in our mind and transfer it to our feet. It’s the mind that pushes the body, that speaks to it in those exhausting “Why am I doing this??!!” moment or miles and shakes it into submission to keep on going for one more mile, one more kilometre, one more water station…..just one more….

It was a glorious morning 20 September in Berlin. We awoke early, had our typical breakfast of muesli, fruit and milk. Our kit bag was already packed from the night before and all that was needed was a shower, get dressed, and begin our day- break 2+ mile easy paced pilgrimage to the start area.

The sun had broken as we neared the beautiful wide tree lined area within the Teir-garten on the boulevard Straße des 17. Juni. From all adjoining streets athletes were making their way as if following a homing beacon which pulled them towards the start area. Our race bib pinned to our shirts allowed us access and the hunt for where to drop our bags off began.

The area was now hustling with athletes from around the world completing their various race preparations of changing to racing shoes and socks, ensuring timing chip is in place, slipping out of warm up pants and sweatshirts, attaching sport gels, hydration packs or belts, tuning iPods, syncing GPS watches, consuming the last of necessary fuel such as bananas, breads, bars, etc. and then finishing by covering up in bright yellow disposable type ponchos provided by the race organizers to await the final walk to their designated start corral.

Needless to say, the tent where my kit bag was to be placed was quite a distance away from my husband’s. Therefore while closer to his drop off tent we both prepared ourselves and after placing his bag in the care of the race organizers we pushed our way through the now crowded area to drop off my bag. Having completed that we were less than 30 minutes before race time, and with a kiss, a hug, and exchanged encouraging words of “Run strong, have a great race, and see you at the finish!” we walked in opposite directions disappearing into the stream of other racers.

It’s amazing how in that throng of thousands upon thousands I was alone in my own thoughts. I was part of a “Marathon Army” directed by race marshals to assume my position in the order of start and joined what was to be nearly 40,000 others. I listened to conversations being spoken in German, French, Spanish, English and other languages I couldn’t determine. I quieted myself and thought of my husband 4 corrals ahead of me and silently prayed for him to have a safe and memorable race. I thought of all that had led up to that morning and me standing on the start line. I was grateful for another opportunity to run 26.2 miles/42 kilometres someplace that I had never been before and to do my best.

Then without warning a large cluster of yellow balloons appeared in the sky beyond my area and as they swiftly floated upward in the cloudless sky, the crowd began to cheer and applaud. The race had started and like penned race horses jostling for positions the atmosphere around me started to ignite. Minutes later I began my slow migration towards the start gates, picking up my pace until finally the gates were in view. Crossing through them and letting out a cheer, the electronic ring of stepping on the start mat signalled that now I was officially in the race.

The sides of the street were lined with spectators cheering, shouting, waving flags and just watching as the parade of racers passed by. They had been there to see the elite field begin over 12 minutes before me and now it was my turn to step in those earlier athlete’s foot strikes.

The day was indeed glorious, not a cloud in the sky where it’s blueness was like a tent capping the incredible event. Predictions were that it would be warm with temps rounding out near 26C/78F before noon. That can hamper anyone’s marathon running!
All along the course the bands played, the wonderful spectators cheered and yelled, clapped and called out. Some of the route was familiar due to the sightseeing bus tour my husband and I went on two days earlier. I glimpsed views of the Bundeskanzleramt, the Reichstag, the Berliner Dom, the Fern-seh-turn, and Sudstern as I passed them on my way to the half-marathon mark. (13.1 miles/21K).

I had started out comfortably quick but could feel my pace slowing, my legs tiring, the heat beginning to melt me and turn me into a puddle. The water stops were a welcome site even through they were covered and littered with previously used plastic cups, and assorted other paper litter. I carried my sport drink within my Camelbak backpack and therefore refused the offers of tea, sport drink and slices of banana and apple. I consumed my SIS sport gels at the pre-determined times and took water as needed along the course.

The welcome site of the banner across the road announcing the half way point lifted my pace slightly as I crossed the Potsdamer Straße. By this time in my race within the larger race, the field was thinning out. I was beginning to see the same people in my “pack”; other athletes of a similar capability as me. We had run through areas that were the previous East Berlin, passed cafes with Sunday afternoon patrons sunning themselves with a pint of Germany’s best, over cable car tracks, and glowing faces of young children with outstretched hands with the hope of a passing athlete’s touch to allow them to take home a bit of the magic of this amazing athletic event.

Over three hours had passed and my mental talk was now of just to keep going, time isn’t the issue here, as my body was beginning to ache with each passing minute. It was then my mobile phone rang and I knew it meant my husband had completed his race. Excitedly I listened to his report. He sounded good and his time was an exceptional 3:22:38! His second fastest marathon finish and his first one run as a 60YO Vet. He spoke of the heat affecting his last 10K and the beginning of leg cramps as he approached the final 5K. His words were a great encouragement and mental boost. His race was complete and now it was my turn to bring Berlin home.

I pressed onward into the third 10K of the race and although I split my running time with some walk breaks I was feeling the effects of the heat and distance on my body. The spectators were still there; the restaurant chefs outside their establishment banging spoons on pots and lids, the fire brigades with their welcome fire hose showers to cool aching and overheating bodies, and the funnel made by samba playing musicians who encouraged you to dance along with them as you ran through their lines.

The streets were shaded on either side with trees at this point and I welcomed the respite as the temperature continued to climb and I knew I would show the effects with a lovely suntan. I welcomed the opportunity at water stations to dip the race provided sponge into a vat of cold water and empty it over my hair covered stars and stripes bandana.

Being towards the back of a marathon pack is a unique experience. Unlike the pristine streets and enthusiastically cheering spectators for the elite and earlier finishers, we who bring the race home contend with water station marshals that are clearing their tables, bicycle riders peddling through the course, young children racing along side, and official photographers who have the time to snap you several times before you pass by.

At 30K I recognized the familiar area where I stood just an evening before awaiting the arrival of the elite rollerblading Marathoners! I was on the Hohenzollerndamm nearing the famous and upscale shopping avenue of Kurfurstendamm . I had passed the 32K mark and had just another 10K left (6.2 miles) My time was slowing as I was keeping track via my 305 Garmin. I was measuring my distance in miles although the race was measured in kilometres and it helped me to gauge the distance remaining as I only saw distance markers at 5K intervals as I ran over the timing mats.

I now knew where I was as the impressive sight of the Kaiser-Wilhem-Gedachtnis-Kirche came into my view. I glanced to my left and from the exit of the underground came athletes. Emerging with their marathon medals around their necks their race long ago completed, they took the time to applaud me as I continued on my way towards my goal.

My phone rang again and my husband provided me with an update as to how he was doing and where he would wait for me. I told him of my fatigue, my aches, and my determination to complete the last 5miles ahead of me. With his words of encouragement in my ears I pressed on passed the familiar business district we had walked through on our way to the start line nearly seven hours previously.

I was now approaching the last 5K (3.1 miles) and trying to keep the wheels on to finish my race. I attempted to interject bursts of faster running into my now speed walking. I found it humours when approached by the sweep vehicle attendant and cautioned that the roads would be opening back up shortly and I was instructed either to speed up and/or move over to the sidewalk to finish my race. The thought of speeding up after being on the road for over 5 and a half hours made me chuckle. However, I followed his instructions and made my way over to the sidewalk and joined the rest of the pedestrian traffic interspersed with marathon athletes. This only caused my pace to slow even further.

After passing Potsdammer Platz I approached an area where the streets were still closed to traffic and the wide expanse of pavement beckoned me. I returned to the streets and continued on through the maze of large government and commercial buildings. The German flag on the horizon waving high above the Reichstag was where we were headed mentioned a fellow athlete. Feeling slightly faint and queasy I slowed slightly to regain my composure as I thought “Not much further” as I made another turn and passed over the 40K litter strewn timing mat.

It was now that I felt an urgency to complete this race, to pass through the awaiting finish gate and have my much toiled for medal placed around my neck. The slight cobble area signalled the approaching final bend and straight away of the Unter den Linden. Could this be it? Could this finally be the finishing stretch through the Brandenburg Gate? By the cheering of still remaining spectators, sightseers, Sunday afternoon café patrons, I could tell the answer was a resounding YES! Then I saw it, like a glimmering beacon ahead of me, the much photographed and historic Brandenburger Gate. I willed that gate closer and closer to me as I found an incentive to increase my pace. To my amazement I was the only one at that point running, spurred on by the crowd lining the street, cheering me through the Pariser Pl., through the Brandenburger Tor and into my “Red Carpet Rock Star Moment”! It was just me at that spot; those cheers were for me, for what I had worked for over 6 1/2 hours for. I don’t know if the German announcer was saying my number or just encouraging the crowd to cheer everyone, I savoured those applauds as they rang in my ears. I showed my appreciation by my smile and the sweat running down my face.

Now it was just a few hundred feet away, I picked my gate and watched the clock as it approached a time I had never seen before in my 5 other marathon races. I found just enough drive for one final push and outstretched my arms to bring Berlin home.
Finally now after 6:40:47 I could stop. Through the muscle aches and the sweat and tears of completing my longest marathon, my medal was placed around my neck. In the distance awaited my husband and the stories we would share about our Sunday running through the streets of Berlin.

Nothing Else

Just a regular weekday for me; feed the cat, the dog, make breakfast for hubby and me, start the laundry. Working from home I take care of the office work and today was payroll day and I had just completed that with a morning run in the plans.

Phone rings, it’s my husband, he had just received a text; Linda’s mom. Oh no, no I am barely able to say with the lump in my throat increasing with each word. I had just the day before received an email including the information on the upcoming Race For Life. Impeccable timing I realized.

Memories of my own mother washed over me and tears flooded my eyes. I sobbed with the thoughts from her battle with Cancer and her unfortunate passing 19 years ago. I phoned Linda and her sobs pierced my heart. “I’m so so so so sorry” was my feeble attempt to express my shared grief at her loss. Words were minimal as she needed to get off the phone to take care of arrangements with her sisters and Dad.

Again I cried; for the years I have been motherless, for the life events I have been unable to share with the woman who gave me life, for my children and now grandchildren who either were cut short their relationship with her, or who never got the chance to be touched by her life. What can I do to bring honour to these women? What can I say to a wonderful friend and fellow runner who now knows the pain and heartbreak of loosing her mother to a relentless killer? How can I celebrate their life with my life?....... I can run!

I can give my time today and celebrate their accomplishments with my own. I can feel the wind on my face, the rain on my jacket, the puddles dancing with my foot strikes. I can push myself a bit harder as I climb up the hills and feel the freedom of almost freefalling down the hills. I can realize the discomfort of regaining my fitness after a month off from illness is nothing compared to what so many are dealing with. I can rejoice in the knowing that my life is rich in so many ways that don’t include the monetary.

With resolve, I changed to my running clothes, I tackled the hills, I coasted the declines, sweat mixed with tears, I melted into the moment, I ran. For you see, there was nothing else at that point in time I could do…so, I ran