ugh.. I need an editor for my posts. I read them after I post them + think…why don’t I catch all those mistakes before I publish a post. I hope you don’t mind too much…
Going through interviews and pulling out pieces onto a time line. Storing recurring themes in my head. The process has a fine logic to it. First just listen and collect ideas. Themes resonate as I listen to one interview on top of another.
The next step is to be more methodical. Label every clip and collect like clips into bins. It’s no so different from any sorting task. The filter is my own experience. What I see in a statement is a reflection as my own experiences and point of view. Another editor might hear the same clip and put it into another category. I might hear Janice talk about teaching yoga and I would see that as an issue of “balance”, someone else might put that into an entirely different category (I can only guess).
Here is a rough list of common themes:
Issues I hope to collect:
Dealing with limitations: injury
??? I won’t know yet what I am need to collect until I’ve carefully archived all the edited interviews and spend more time writing out my own experiences and expectations. It’s what I ask of my students but I haven’t taken the time yet to do that…
Did I mention the challenges of balance? I’ve been training for my first half marathon on Saturday. I have no time to write about this, though. It’s such an easy training by comparison with a full marathon. So there’s that. And music. I need at least 45 minutes at night to practice my violin (I have a lesson in a half hour). And classes. At least I have a break form classes this week. E-mails.More e-mails. Projects in the works, this one in particular. Taxes. I may or may not get to them. And a check to send off to Poseidon for Henry’s swim clinic. And dinner tonight. And the garden. The dog needs walking.
It’s a little painful to get back into this. Or, very painful. After the November marathon and my Boston qualifier, I lost my focus. I was afraid I wasn’t getting the material I needed. I was afraid I was getting the material I needed but I needed more. I was afraid I didn’t know how to build a strong enough story. This is just some of what I’m now trying to ignore and just get back to work. I have a deadline in April to show a rough cut and that is what I need to get back to work. At this point, the blog takes a turn. It’s more about the process of this project, and less about my running. Although, I’ve never let up on that. I’m training well and ran a fine 15k last month. I’m looking forward to my first 1/2 marathon in a few weeks. I’d like to try to split this blog into two parts 1) the process of building this documentary and 2) my own training (which is more for my own documentation). One is about the design process, the other is just about running. Right now I have two long interviews to log and transfer and while that’s happening I can get a violin practice in. It might sound like I have a lot going on. It feels like I try to juggle to much, and I believe I’m not too good at that.
A week and some after a great run. As much I can recognize from the splits that I ran—maybe—a perfect marathon last week, I continually counter with the thought that maybe it wasn’t that perfect if I still had more in me. Now my sights are on shaving just a few minutes off to come in at 3:4something. That :4X is so much more appealing than a :5X (as in 3:5something). As much as I would love to run a spring marathon, I’m not sure how fair that is to Don and Henry to begin a new round of training with long runs on the weekends. Don would probably say it’s okay. I would have to ask him. It is more an issue for me to work through. How badly do I want to now run a fast marathon (versus a comfortable one)? Or how comfortable will I be now with my 2013 Boston Qualifier in the bag so that I don’t have to hold back or have that concern in my brain for 24 miles (because at that point—and especially with Ben calling out to me “you’ve got it, Laura”— I realized I was going to make my target— and at that point was I even looking at my watch?).
I have a few weeks to live with the tension between enjoying my strong finish and achieving a goal, and seeing room for an even better race. By December I would like to know what my race card looks like for next year.
For now, I am looking forward to the 5k with Henry on Thanksgiving morning. The run around the lake at Central Park in Schenectady is my running homecoming. It will be my third time with this race. The first time I ran it was sometime in the mid ‘90’s: it was my first race ever and I ran it with David Clayman. I wouldn’t have any idea what my time was but I think I was exhilarated to just run a race. The second time I ran it was two years ago when my training run at that time was not quite a full 4 miles.
In that race, a woman close to me in age gestured at about 2 1/2 miles for me to catch up with her and we panted together up to the 3 mile marker by the casino when she turned to me and said, “go for it!”. That camaraderie is what pulled me into a love of the race. I miss that a little now that—especially with the shorter race—it’s all out mental focus and battle.
I’m checking over the times of the age group winners and see some really fast women in my age group with sub 20 minutes times. I have no idea what my time will look like after distance training. Clearly, my next goal is to work on speed over the next few months.
3:53 for 26.38 miles. What a day. I hit my target time pretty dead on. Actually, I just realized that for every long race I give myself three targets: the one I have to meet (non-negotiable), the one I reach for and the one that I think is possible but I’m not yet willing to give it all up for. Both marathons I’ve hit the second. With this one, I had to meet 4 hours to qualify for Boston. I knew it was well within my range but it also made for a less than relaxed run. I was on edge for much of the run, checking myself to make sure I wasn’t speeding up too much too soon, trying to insure I didn’t fall apart at the end. But it was hard. I think the tension made it less of a beautiful race on a perfect day. Until the last 2 miles. By then I knew I had a 4 hour race but I didn’t know by what margin. Hearing Ben hollering out at mile 24 “you’ve got it Laura!” certainly give me an added boost. From them on I held a strong, steady pace on to the final turn down hill AND I passed a friend in the last tenth of a mile. I went back over my splits yesterday evening and it looks like I ran a close to perfect race. But it was hard.
At the start I was planning to go out with a 9:15 pace for the first few miles then bring it down to just over 9:00 up to mile 20 but I ended up following Sean Cusack, one of the coordinators for the marathon training program, wearing his Viking horns helmet. He claimed he was leading the pace for 4 hours but starting with a 9:00 pace. I questioned him and he answered, “You can do that,” in a way that made me think he knew something I didn’t know, that I was underestimating myself. I felt pressured to agree. Actually it was easy to keep his Viking horns in sight, and it helped relieve the start-of-race jitters. After weeks of training with my team, I was a little disoriented in the mass of strangers.
I kept reminding myself that I could keep my own pace anytime I wished, but it surprises me to see that I held that pace almost to within a tenth of a second (not including the long down hill on Cary Street) until mile 10 when I dropped to the mid/high 8’s. When I go back over the splits, it REALLY surprises me how even and how close to my plan they were with a few minutes to spare at both the half and 20 mile splits.
As I remember it, the miles seemed to pass quickly although there was mile 9 where I was thinking I wasn’t even half way and I wasn’t very comfortable. And even thought it’s only two days out, much of the race is a blur. I was happy to catch Jonathan one of my training partners around mile 4 or 5 and run with him until about mile 10 then somehow he pulled ahead and I never saw him again. I didn’t at all mind the hills from the river up to Forrest Hill Ave and even up Forrest Hill until the half way point. It was a steady effort but I was aware of my breathing, never really labored. I passed the half way point and felt steady and suddenly there were Don and Henry waving signs and smiling. And then ten blocks later there they were again. And again, another ten blocks later. Each time them popped up it put a little hop in my stride and it pulled me out of a tight focus. I thought I would have found it comforting and a little weird to be running my marathon down the road I either run or drive down several times every day—within two blocks of my house—but I was too focused on the race, concentrating on my pace, my effort, my breathing.
At mile 15 we turned onto the Lee Bridge, blessed with a rare tail wind, where most years runners battled a dreaded head wind. And by then some folks were starting to labor and I thought “hmmm, he doesn’t look so good,” and “woe, he’s sweating a lot now and he’s got a long way to go still.” And that made me feel fresh and strong.
Now I realize I may have lost my non-running readers long ago but this narrative is mostly for me: to document the race. To figure out what I did right and what I can learn. I can’t see any particular errors but what I DID learn is that I can afford to relax and enjoy the race more, and that I had a lot more in me still at the end of this race. What that might mean is that if I run my next race harder, I might be even more on edge. And maybe what I learned with this race is to allow myself to be uncomfortable for 3 ¾ hours. I have a memory of the first 18 miles of the Sugarloaf Marathon as very relaxed and pleasant but memory twists things very quickly. Already this marathon is looking more like a wonderful run through the city with crowds calling my name out, on a beautiful Fall day. But I know I wouldn’t have said that to anyone running beside me that day.
Just beyond the Lee Bridge, Winnie a friend and coach who was the impetus for my signing up for the race called out to me and I called back, “Hey, run with me a bit.” She asked how I was doing and I replied, “This is hard.” “Of course it’s hard”, she answered, “it’s a marathon.” The humor eased tension instantly. Mile 11 with the steep hill up from the river was my slowest mile at 9:18. Mile 17 after the bridge was my next slowest at 9:04, my “hoped” for average pace up to mile 20.
At mile 20 one of my coaches, Debbie, caught up with me and asked, “Is it everything you hoped for?” I thought “you’ve got be kidding me!”. If I said what was on my mind it would have been, “No, not at all. It hasn’t been fun and relaxed. It’s been hard. My legs are a little sore and I’m not enjoying this run.” Somehow I thought it would be nice and easy like the long training runs. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can see now how it takes no time at all to forget the labor of a long run. Even now as I write this, I think, “But it never really was that difficult…why did I think it was hard…”
I passed through the gates at Pope Ave at mile 21, smiling and waving wildly at Don Garber (come to think of it I smiled and waved to a LOT of friends along the way). Honestly, how hard could this run have been? It was funny to see Maureen at the start near mile 2 in her long black coat and then at mile 17 again in her biking clothes and helmet. I thought to myself, “That was a quick change”. But of course it was about 2 ½ hours later. For the next mile or two another coach came up and run beside me and just helped me stay on pace. He slowed down with me at the water stops and I lost him on the way to 23.
The crux was down Brooke Road but I was looking forward to seeing the Endorphin tent and hoping Henry’s teacher Allison was there. She ran up and was SO supportive and enthusiastic.“You’re still doing sub-nine minute miles” she called out. And I sort of knew this but now that tail wind was a head wind and asked her to run me up to mile 24. Donnie, a coach I’d run with a lot was on the side and asked how I was and I jus sort of waved back something like “not so good,’ but from the looks of the data on my Garmin I had sped up. Allison kept the wonderful chatter up and several times I said, “I love you! Thank you!” Now, I’m embarrassed to remember that but it was the quickest way to say “thank you” and by the time she left me I knew I was on the home stretch and I had plenty to get me to the finish.
And there was Don and Henry one last time just as I turned the corner onto Cary Street with the finish in sight. And coaches Kara and Kevin and I was thrilled to be feeling so great at the finish, and for them to be part of that.
It really does sound like a perfect race, doesn’t it? I’m hardly sore at all as I finish this two days later and I’m starting to plan my next race. I hate to put my family through the training but I do try my best not to have it derail much of our family life. I’m sure I’ll have to go back and edit this but I needed to get this written and posted so I can go back to collecting more interviews and moving ahead with
Last day of taper: Ice in the freezer and hay in the barn
Nervous and excited. Grateful for beautiful weather. Hat or sunglasses… I don’t like wearing glasses even to sit in my kayak or my car. Is that a clue? And, oh yes, I have never in almost 40 years run with sunglasses so that sort of closes that debate. But that just opens the door for another obsession. Pants at the starting line to throw away or to pack in a checked bag?
I will probably be curious months from now what was going on this week:
Little things were flaring up but really nothing substantial. Morton’s neuroma bugged me a little on Tuesday. My left quad had been feeling tight but my chiropractor has given me the thumbs up and seems to think everything is moving well. This helps. I’ve been drinking as much as I can (water, water, tea, water) and packing in the carbs. I don’t think I did this much before Sugarloaf, so I’m wondering if this will make any difference.
I haven’t been drinking much coffee this week; mainly because I’m not sleeping all that well and I don’t seem to need any more help to keep me awake at night. I’ve read that if you lay off the caffeine for a few days, that extra boost in the gel can be even more effective.
It’s the obsessing about the little things that is certainly nervous energy at its worst. I think what I need most is to head out to pick up my packet, lay out all my race clothes, and sit.
I just googled “sore legs while tapering” and there were hundreds of hits. One post started “just google ‘taper phantom injuries’ ”. My hips are sore and my legs felt heavy and tired walking up stairs after a 6 mile marathon pace (i.e. slower than my normal mid-distance tempo pace) run this afternoon. I saw the chiropractor this morning and he seemed to think everything was in good working order. He even admitted to feeling lousy the week and a half leading up to a race and feeling great, finally, at the starting line. I’ll take his word for it. I don’t remember feeling this way in May before Sugarloaf.
…but, now, come to think of it, it hurt to walk a couple weeks away from that race. I had forgotten that. I forgot that I was visiting a friend and we were taking her dog for a walk in the park and I resented the walk from the parking lot to the picnic area. But she would have been disgusted with me if I’d confessed my neuroses. And my hamstring felt awful just walking around Portland the day before we drove up to Sugarloaf and I was icing on and off all day for the two days before the race. And even though it was cold and rainy at the start, I was feeling great the second the gun went off. It’s good to remember that.
I will be so much happier when I’m out there and on my pace. I am, oddly enough, looking forward to Lee Bridge. I’ve ridden my bike over it so many times, that running across just doesn’t seem as difficult. I’m looking forward to passing Alan and Paula’s house on Faquier at mile 22 or 23. I am looking ahead to running past the Honors College. There are so many landmarks that are part of my life here that I hope I can enjoy the race through what has become my town.
Running¬—training, really—throughout the city has given a much stronger sense of home. I know the turns and cross streets, the hills and sidewalks. Which sidewalks are brick and to be avoided if possible, where the wider parking lanes make for a safer weekend run…
For the next week and a half: I hope to get in the scheduled runs at a moderate/slow pace and to continue to eat well, drink lots, and get a lot of sleep. As Ward King, a climber friend often said, “sleep is under-rated”.
a post not written:
what I didn’t write about (it’s been a busy week and a half… Halloween, a lot of interviews to collect, papers to grade, assignments to figure out) is my fussing about pace. My last 20 mile run over a week and a half ago I ran without my Garmin. I kept an easy pace with a friend who was having some cramps so I held up a few times when she needed to stretch. I ran ahead at 16 and picked up to what felt like a comfortable but steady pace, and raced another running partner for the final mile and a half to come in a couple minutes under 3 hours. With stops, and trying to keep it relaxed, my pace was close to 8:50 something with a 7 something final mile. If I were to drop down to a 9 minute pace I’d easily break 4 hours. So now it’s a question of how greedy I want to be. Aim for 3:50? Just shoot for a 3:59:59 to qualify for Boston? And if I have a terrible day and don’t even break 4… I’ll figure that out on November 13th. For a non-runner this stuff about pace must sound obsessive but to me it’s like figuring out a puzzle and looking at all the possible variables (what if I’m feeling great? in pain? it’s cool and dry? rainy and windy? i see friends on the course?). anything can happen but at least I have sort of have a plan: don’t go out too fast, keep a steady pace, and finish strong. Okay, that’s not really a plan. It’s what EVERYONE says, but I’ll be happy if that’s how it all shakes out.