My first HURT.

I did my first HURT (Hawaii Ultra Running Team) trail race today.

I last practiced trail running on Thanksgiving weekend, 2011, in Makawao, Maui, where I chased some stony mountain bikers around. I figured I was ok at it, because I kept up. Turns out it's more likely they were just really, really stoned and slow. 

Before that, my last trail run with during Escape from Alcatraz. Some of that Presidio stuff counts as trail. I had the best run of my life there. I think that was spring of 2009.

In college sometimes I would run the fire trail up through Strawberry Canyon into the Berkeley Hills, but it was hard to focus on the trail running when all I was ever thinking about was being mauled by a mountain lion. 

Suffice to say, my trail experience is limited.

Here are some things I noticed:

1. The HURT trail runners are so nice they make all us road runners seem like complete and total assholes. The girls who passed me slowed to introduce themselves. Seriously. Everyone was so sweet and kind to each other. It was like Woodstock or something, but less dirty.

2. Running a hilly trail race when not recovered from a hilly marathon is not a good idea. I walked up many of the hills, because my HR would top 200 bpm on even the slightest slope. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.  It would have been so disheartening, if it weren't for all the kind friendly folks who introduced themselves as they passed.

3. The niceness must've worn off, because Stacky waited for me at the top of all the hills I walked. Then, when we got to the final half-mile downhill stretch (on the pavement - the sweet, sweet pavement), he was waiting there for me to finish with me. 

4. My 9-mile trail race time is slower than my current half marathon time: 1:29 or so, today.

5. I got a potted carrot plant as a prize for being a top 10 woman! (Probably only 10 women showed up.) Live prizes, as long as they aren't puppies, are the best prizes ever!

6. I was worrying about the wrong thing. I didn't think my ankles could handle it, but they did. My right eyeball had an unfortunate run-in with a pine needle somewhere in the last few miles, and everything got really blurry. It's still blurry 8 hours later. My eye-doc friend says it's a scratched eyeball or something and it'll go away if I ignore it. I am typing left-eyed right now.

7. The buffet. Wow. Everyone brought something, it seemed, and all of it was amazing. Fresh fruit, veggies, salads, homemade breads and cookies and muffins, wraps - even if I hadn't run, that food would have been worth the $15 entry fee. 

8. I cannot begin to fathom how people run 100 miles on trails. That is seriously amazing. The next  HURT race is 10+ miles on June 8, and I will be there. Hopefully with some hill-climbing legs. It was harder than any road race I've ever done, but the views were incredible (hence the name: Run with a View) and it was so much fun.

The rest of the day went like this - a little time in the water with some of Team Kailua - Todd, Brig, Cara, and the kids.

First Time for Everything

I got a surprise in the mail last week - a new swimsuit from Splish. Not just a new Splish, but a whole new, never seen before Splish style for me to test out. So I wore it to paddling, and it stayed put. Thank goodness, because that was the day the coach had us paddle right up the Ala Wai, with five lanes of traffic and countless tourists walking by. I wanted to wear it surfing this weekend, but there was nothing to surf anywhere on this rock. Then, on Sunday, I felt the pressure of the new Splish, and agreed to swim. So for the first time since August, I dug out my goggles and swam. It was a gorgeous morning that turned out to be the calm before the storm, and Brigitte, Todd, Mark, Ikaika and I walked down to Lanipo to this view:

 

 

 

As usual, we headed for the beach on the island on the left. I was afraid I wouldn't remember how, but within 10 or 12 strokes, I found my rhythm and kept up. It was just as clear as it looks. We saw a ton of reef fish, a turtle, and a pod of about 30 brightly-colored humans heading out as we came back in. Ikaika hasn't gone for a swim since I quit (if I were writing up an elementary school report card, I'd be unlikely to check the self-motivated box), and he swam better than ever. My goggles died of old age during the 9 month swim break, though, and leaked like mad.

 

I'm sore today, and I've got paddling practice tonight. Poor lats and shoulders.

 

It was an ocean filled weekend. I skipped the 5k because my ankle hurt during a 20 minute evening run with Sky on Friday. I think a couple of days off (well, 4) are in order. After watching the Kentucky Derby and drinking my first ever mint julep on Saturday, we headed west. Yokohama (below) was a desert, so we picked a random beach along the highway that faced west, I put on my wetsuit, and we went shell-diving. Check out the loot - all in about 30 minutes of getting tossed in the steep west-side shore break.

They'll clean up nicely - soaking at home now.

We hit the Chinatown Cinco de Mayo block party for tacos and margaritas on the way home and found some sombrero'd amigos.

 

 And then I took the first step to one of this year's goals, and signed up for my first trail run - a nine miler put on by HURT this coming weekend. I might air-cast my wobbly ankles pre-emptively. Or I might just run carefully and hope for the best.

5k

Sky and I did a running photo shoot for lululemon this weekend at Diamond Head. I love her banged up knees - one is bloody, and the other has a band-aid on it. She fell out of a tree half-way through the shoot, and her bony little elbow matched by the end. Nine is such a great age. She's smart, and says crazy funny things. She has a quick dry with that I've never seen in someone so young. She has so much confidence and spunk. She is the opposite of what I was at that age - I was shy and insecure and generally not very happy. I find myself thinking every day: don't f this one up. She's currently running for school president, even though she was the new kid in school this year. She still tries to climb into my bed at night to snuggle, and when my hair turns into dreads on a morning run, like it did today in the rain, she shows up in my room with her brush and offers to help. Man, I hope she stays sweet. The teen years are coming all too fast, as her oldest brother has shown me. I'd write a paragraph about how sweet and fun to be around he is these days, but I'd be lying.

 

Back to the training. Friends keep asking what's next? I don't know what's next. I'd like to do an ultra this summer, but I haven't committed. There's one in Pacifica the same day as my little brother's wedding in Berkeley, but I don't really want to feel like I need compression tights and socks at a his big event. I also don't want to pay to travel to CA twice in one summer. There are only a couple here, and we don't have the big fire road "trails" that CA does. My little rolly ankles would have a much better chance of surviving 50k or 50 mi in CA.

 

I finally got around to post-Boston analysis. Here's how it went down:

 

5k: 20:19 (6:32/mi)

5k - 10k: 20:51 (6:42/mi)

10k -15k: 21:11 (6:49/mi - there it is - that's what most of my 5k splits in the 2:58 mary were)

15k - 20k: 21:43 (6:59/mi)

20k -25k: 21:56 (7:03/mi - stopped to talk to Ikaika for a while in there for some dumb reason)

25k - 30k: 22:36 (7:16/mi - let the hills begin)

30k - 35k: 23:07 (7:26/mi - hello Newton Hills! Felt like 9+ per mile)

35k - 40k: 22:19 (7:10/mi)

 

Total: 3:03: 53 (ave pace 7:01/mi)

 

This, my friends, is what it looks like when you kind-of don't care about the race. The marathon is too long to not care and do well. I didn't feel bad about my race at all, because the overall time didn't bother me, until I broke it down like this. Even now, I don't feel too bad, I just feel like going back to Boston in 2014 and running even splits and breaking 3h. I want it, now.

 

I'm running a 5k this weekend. I haven't run one in four years. I keep telling myself I remember the pain, but really, I don't remember the pain. If I did, I wouldn't have signed up. I saw the start list - I don't even have a shot in hell at the top three around here lately. That's ok, though, because I only feel recovered about 50% of my runs right now, so Saturday is hit or miss. I have no idea if I'll feel like a runner or a tree sloth, and I won't until the race starts. I signed Ikaika up, too, because misery loves company. I looked it up - my last two 5ks (in 2008 and 2009) were on this same course and were 18:17 and 18:25. I'll be happy with anything faster than the first 5k in Boston: 20:19. Well, maybe less than 19:59.

 

 

 

Boston and NYC pictures.

Race morning. I was relaxed, but not that relaxed.

 

For Boston, evil Marathonfoto upped the price of a single race photo to $50. So I zoomed in on that one from David's phone, and that, paired with the one that Ikaika took of me climbing Heartbreak Hill are my "official race photos."

 

I run with my eyes closed. 

Hills at mile 21 are mean.

 

Post-race, the Four Seasons had a beautiful set-up, including a congratulatory cupcake for finishers. The burger was awesome.

 

From there, things went downhill in Boston quickly. So let's just jump on ahead to NYC. We drove back down to the city first thing Tuesday morning. Even though it was nice to be there, and in David's lovely home, I wanted out of the Boston area.

 

We did the touristy stuff right off the bat:

 

Top of the Rock. I liked this view better than the Empire State! And no lines or crowds.

Times Square

Brunch at my former Timex teammate Ian's place in Norwalk, CT - this was on the way up to Boston. Pre-race mimosas turned out not to be a bad call.

 

The Hyatt Grand Central upgraded everything when they learned we'd been at the marathon. Room overlooking Grand Central, wine and strawberries at night, and Club level, where you can hang out on the outside patio and eat fresh baked cookies (and real breakfast, if you want) all day long.

 

In New York, we slept till 10 or 11 every day, wandered the various neighborhoods during the day, and went out at night till 2 or 3 am. It was perfect. We didn't have much of an agenda. We just explored.

At the Yankees game Tuesday night, they did a nice tribute to Boston and the Sox. I forget who won the game, but it was awesome. I could sit at MLB games daily and be happy.

We jog-hobbled through Central Park each morning (noon). Ikaika chose the people to take this photo by saying Look! They look old and slow to steal my phone.

The NY Public Library and Bryant Park were just a couple of blocks away, so we spent time lounging in the sun there daily, eating our bagels.

 

My cousin Brian posted on FB that he was in NYC, so we met up to watch his friend play music. I hadn't seen him in 5 years. We closed the place down at 3 am, and I don't know what is going on in this photo, but I can tell you it was fun.

 

We shopped across Soho, bar-hopped from Chelsea through Union Square and the Village, and had dinner with friends on the Upper East Side. We had a great lunch at the rooftop restaurant of Eataly with a friend I hadn't seen since 5th grade. We tried to not think too much about Boston and just enjoy the trip, although I was following the news incessantly.

 

And then we came home. I couldn't wait to hug my kids. But now I'd like to go back to spring in NYC, please.

Boston.

I am rarely at a loss for words. Seriously - this almost never happens.  But I'm posting a week after my race because until now I didn't even consider sitting down to write. I didn't have it in me. Not because I have some major trauma or anything. Nothing happened to me. I am one of the lucky ones. What do I say? Do I write about the race? About the child that died watching his father race? About all the limbs lost and lives forever changed? About my inability to sleep Monday night, because every time I drifted off I dreamed I was searching for my children at the finish line? 

My mom keeps calling to ask if I'm ok. If I'm sleeping. If I have PTSD. I'm fine, I tell her. I am, because really, I feel nothing but fortunate. I cried a lot on Monday. I can't tell you how many times I have cried for the family that lost their 8-year old son. I can't tell you how badly I want a rewind button, or psychic powers, or some instinct that could have gotten everyone away from those bombs. 

I can't think of anything better to do or say, so I'll just write about my day.

In Boston, Ikaika and I stayed with David (a.k.a. KN's husband) and he was a wonderful host. He knew where we should be, when. He took us out to an amazing pre-race steak dinner, and got Ikaika to the half-way point to see me go by during the run. The Davids were the best support crew a girl could ask for. I slept well and woke up happy on race-day, with little anxiety or stress about the race. I reminded myself that it was just a catered long run, and that 26 miles is really not that big of a deal. In a way, it was nice that I had no real goal. I was worried my sore ankle might keep me from running, and that in itself made finishing the goal, instead of that sub-3 I tend to chase. 

Ikaika, David and I picked up my friend Kelly and drove down to the start. She was also injured, but she was optimistic. We said good-bye to the Davids at the Hawaii House, and Kelly and I hung out there, about 200 ft from the start line, warm, safe, and happy, for a while, then did a mile warm-up run. My ankle was sore, but functional, and it hurt less as I warmed up.

I found my friend Corina in corral 3 a few minutes before 10 am, but not Andrew and Scott, who I had hoped to run with. The gun at Boston in surreal. It's hard to believe you're really there. It takes a minute to get to the start line, even when you get a good seed up front. Corina and I ran 6:30s through the first 5k. Too fast, for me, really, but what the hell did I care? At mile 3 I stopped for a moment on the side of the road and told myself to commit to some plan. I felt like I was all over the place - scatterbrained. I had a plan, but no commitment. I decided to stick with running the first half at under 1:30, then see how I felt, with sub-3 as the goal. At mile 8, my legs got tired, but I didn't feel like I had to stop. I thought it was too early for the level of fatigue in my quads, but really, there's not much I could do about it. I settled into a 6:45 minute mile pace, but it wasn't easy. I found my friend Scott at mile 12 and we talked to the half, where I saw Ikaika and David on the left side of the road. I stopped running, kissed Ikaika and said I'm fine, but I really don't feel like running sub-3 today. I will finish though - see you there. It was such a lovely mental break to see them. I'm not all alone in the world! Something about running without music, without a partner, in a big sea of fast people, made me feel so lonely. I have never felt more alone in a race. I'm not sure why I stopped, except maybe that I needed to just talk to them.

This is the biggest crowd I've ever been in while running sub-3 pace, which makes it a little funny that I felt so lonely. David took this photo, and if you click on it, you can find me (waldo in yellow) and see just how packed the course was. You can also see why I was surprised by the course, even though I've been here before. In my mind, net downhill meant flats and downhills. Nope, this is not downhill.

 

I went through the half at 1:28 something - faster than I did in Chicago. Really, sub-3 was within reach. But I didn't go after it. It wasn't in me. I decided to run comfortably for the back half, with all the hills, and enjoy the sights, and tried to back off to 7:15 - 7:30 pace. But 7:30 pace felt harder than 6:45 did. So I picked it back up, and started racing up the hills. Miles 17-21 are insane. Straight down, or straight up. There really is nothing else. I hated the ups. I hated the downs. The spectators were too loud with their shrieks and cowbells, so I covered my ears as I ran. I wasn't totally grumpy or a raging bitch or anything. I was happy for the most part, and grateful that I didn't hurt. I remember thinking to myself sometimes I'm so lucky to be in this race. Ikaika, David, Toby, and Noah surprised me at mile 21, most of the way up Heartbreak Hill, and that motivated me to check my form, smile, wave, and be happy.

From miles 22-26.2, I just wanted to be done. I felt surprisingly good, and went from running 7+ to running 6:45 per mile again. I passed hundreds of people who'd run up the hills too hard. I started thinking about the finish, Ikaika there waiting, the burger at Four Seasons, and all that stuff. My quads were ruined from the hills, and every step killed. I dodged people the way you fly through cars on the highway changing lanes because I was in a hurry to just be done. Really, the race flew by in spite of the pain. Suddenly I was turning on to Boylston and the finish line was 1/4 mile away. I glanced at my watch and decided I didn't want to run another 3:04 at Boston, so I picked it up a bit. I crossed the line in 3:03 high. 

I wasn't happy about the time and I wasn't sad about the time. I got out what I put in. I think I shrugged and thought good enough. Had I focused, I might have done better, but my mind was all over the place. My fitness showed up last Monday, but my brain didn't. 

There were people 20-deep cheering on either side of the road all along Boylston. That last stretch is like no other race. Even Alii Drive in Kona. I smiled the whole way. Once you finish, you hit a traffic jam. I tried to climb over the fence to get out, but volunteers screamed at me that I had to keep walking down the line. So I ran along the curb outside of the crowd and hopped off of planters and dodged volunteers with icky food while we all were herded through the blankets and stuff. I just wanted Ikaika, my burger, my jacket, and a place to sit down.  Other runners were swaying and puking and a few said that I hadn't run hard enough if I could still jog. I didn't care, I just wanted out of there. I jogged along until I found a cop, then asked him for directions to the Four Seasons - our meeting place.

The Four Seasons is 3-4 blocks from the finish. I'd tell you something more specific, but really, I don't think my brain works for at least 6 hours after a marathon. Ikaika, David, and David's sons were right there in the street, waiting for me by the hotel. I wanted food, and a place to sit, now. They'd already gotten a table. I had a burger so big that I had to use a fork and knife to eat it. The boys had snickers bars. I texted my mom, and talked to my dad on the phone, and stretched and iced. Everything was perfect. We finished eating, went out front and waited for the valet to bring David's car around, and then the boys asked David what the boom they'd heard was. I didn't notice the sound, amidst all the noise of the crowds, until they pointed it out. The car came, we got in, and started heading out of the city towards David's house. I saw two women in race blankets running and crying and thought to myself, they must've had bad races. I saw people hailing cabs frantically and thought they must be cold. Then my phone started getting texts - over 70 texts in 20 minutes, all asking if we were ok. I didn't know what had happened, I just started replying Yes, we're fine, we're in a car heading out of the city now. The texts came so fast that I had to cut and paste my response. Finally, someone told me there were bombs going off at the finish line. I called my parents, my ex-husband Ramsey, and my kids' schools, to make sure no one would be worried about me when they heard the news. 

We watched the news all evening. I cried this weird grateful cry that I am not a person who can afford to fly my children to the finish line. I cried some guilty tears for being the reason that Ikaika, David, and his two sons were anywhere near that finish line because of me. I held onto Ikaika for dear life, because it was the spectators, the supporters, the race-lovers, that were killed and broken. Mostly, I feel like we were blessed.

We left town for NYC the following morning. I'll post the happy stuff - vacation, photos, and stories, sometime soon.

Boston Marathon 2013

this city

 

+

this guy

 

+

this sport

 

+

 

the finish line of the World Series or whatever of this sport

 

= a good week ahead.

 

I have to admit, I'm not optimistic about the race. Going in to Chicago, I felt fit, fast, and determined. Sure, I had doubts, and the taper-week mindf$#k was in full-effect, but if I didn't have those, then it wouldn't be scary, and if wasn't a little scary, I wouldn't travel across the country to do it.

 

I have not had one single good run since Tantalus three weeks ago. 20 miles of mountain was too much, too close to race day. Lesson learned. This week, my ankle tendonitis came back full-force on Monday. It always comes without warning, and always during a rest week. I couldn't run 10 feet. I hobbled home, and I've been icing ever since. I ran 40 minutes this morning, and I'll run 20 minutes on Sunday, like I do before a marathon. When I run, the fatigue is apparent immediately. I feel like I did a 10-mi track workout yesterday, but really, I haven't run in days. I'm going to wear the Hokas, because I had great long runs in them. I've never tried to run fast in them. They're squishy and make my ankle the happiest, though, and I think that's the priority over speed, this time.

 

There could be race-day magic. I'm going to start with my fast friends and cross my fingers. I could not be able to run 10 feet. There's no way of knowing until Monday. I keep getting these Oh you know you're going to run hard comments from people who aren't really listening to me. It makes me angry when people don't listen and assume they know more about what I can/will do than I do. I'm going to run to the best I can on Monday. Some races don't go well. I'm prepared for this to be one of those, and if it is, then I'm going to pull back, take my time, and enjoy it. I'll have my phone. I'll take pictures. I'll stop and call for a ride if I think I'm doing permanent or long-term damage to my ankle. I won't be devastated if that's how it goes.

 

I will definitely enjoy the excitement of the Boston Marathon. It was my second ever marathon. I had perfect conditions back in 2006. I ran 3:04, and it was my PR for 6 years. It looks like I'll have perfect conditions again this time: 50-ish degrees and clear. I loved every minute of the Boston Marathon, and I intend to love it all over again this time, regardless of pace. I can't wait for the week of exploring Boston and NYC with HK, and to see my friends in both cities. Good luck to all my fellow racers!

 

 

One Week.

One work week left till I get to spend a week seeing the NY and Boston sights: the NY Library, Top of the Rock, my favorite Dean & Deluca in Soho, a Yankees game, a Sox game at Fenway, drinks on Stone Street, a night out with Rousey and Eli in Boston, and running through Central Park! And that pesky 26.2 miler from Hopkinton to Boston, of course. I know I live in vacation-land, but I can't wait to get out of here for our urban vacation. It's time for some mainland. I even bought fashionable clothes, because no one actually does fashion here, but on the mainland it's acceptable. Even encouraged.

 

As part of the taper I have re-found surfing. Surfing is like swimming, but without all the sucky parts, like a pool, and being bored to death. Sky has picked it right up. HK and I took out his tandem board and Sky paddled along next to us yesterday. I forgot the camera on shore, but it was a sunny Waikiki evening and watching my little girl paddle into waves taller than her on her styrofoam board was so much fun. HK's hands slipping off the under-waxed board and him face-planting onto my butt was also entertaining, but in a different way. I really wish someone had a GoPro out there for that. We had some good rides, too. A lot people asked about the custom made 12' tandem board. I had fun answering: He got it as a wedding present  from Fred Hemmings. And then when they'd say: How long have you been married? I said: Oh, we're not.

 

The taper is a lovely thing. But I have the first inklings of pre-race nerves: Stage 1 - dread. Why on earth would I want to mess up my vacation with an extremely difficult run? I am fighting the dread two ways: 1. Reminding myself that it's just a catered long run. Years of convincing myself of this has led to me being a really good pre-race sleeper. I'm not allowed to really panic until I wake up on race day. 2. I went and read the Chicago race report, to remind me of how good marathons can go. One week from now, it'll all be done!

 

 

 

 

Calculating

Check out this handy Boston Marathon pace calculator. It was sent to me by a friend who happens to be in my corral. And in the past week, I've learned that I have three friends in my start corral, and they all have 2:55-ish aspirations. I wish I could honestly say that I was seriously after that 2:55. That it was 2:55 or bust, the way I felt about 2:59 in Chicago last October. But truth be told, I'm still indifferent. 

Here's what 2:55 pacing looks like:

And 2:59:

And 3:20. I ran 23 miles on pace for a 3:20 with a pretty solid hangover two weeks ago, which is why I entered 3:20. I love this. This looks like a fun race. I could sing along out loud to this, but everyone would hate me for it:

Clearly, I'm still all over the place. Am I going to go out with my 2:55 buddies from the get-go? Hell yes. Am I going to totally blow up somewhere along the way? Most likely. But so what if I do? Who cares but me, really? Ikaika will be at the finish whether I roll in at 1 pm or at 3 pm. He'll be drunker if it's 3 pm, but so long as he has my burger I don't really care. My kids will forget I even had a marathon, so they're easy. My friends will be disappointed for me, but they won't love me any less. It's interesting going in so indifferent. I'm pretty fit, but not especially invested. I feel like I have nothing to lose. 

I did enter the 2:55 first. And you know what that looks like to me? A disaster. Or a solid threshold workout, that would really be great with 3-4 minute rest intervals every couple of miles. And a ride home somewhere around the 8-9 mile mark.

My parents were thinking about coming to watch Boston. They came out the last time I ran it, in 2006. My dad asked me what my plan was that day (it was my second marathon ever) and I said, Ehh, top 100 women, I guess. And he laughed at me. Laughed! And reminded me that it was THE Boston Marathon. My dad did a great job of being everywhere on the race course in Chicago, and my mom was right there at the finish when I needed her. My dad called last week and asked if I was planning to run fast in Boston. I guess I answered incorrectly when I said, I dunno, but I'm not really planning to suck or anything, because they decided to skip it. 

Easter weekend around here was lovely. Ramsey and I snuck the kids onto the Stairway to Heaven. Turns out that Henry is deathly afraid of heights. The stairs become a ladder in some places where it's completely vertical, and I literally climbed with one hand holding onto Sky's pants. She flew up that stairway. Henry, not so much.

Sky and me climbing away.

Me, two goofballs, and an angst-filled teenager at the first landing.

We took the kids out surfing, too, and pushed them into waves. Sure, we had to bribe them ($20 if you get up and stay up for 10 seconds or longer), but it was worth every penny to see them surfing off Waikiki on a sunny afternoon.

And now, it's taper time. Ahhh, a 30-mile week. Three miles of hard work, and a lot of easier miles.

Last Long Run.

 

So, that profile really doesn't do it justice. The top of Tantalus, according to mapmyrun, is 1599 feet. It's 5 miles up, and 5 back down. I haven't done that much hill work, even though I know from experience how Boston's hills hurt, so for my final 20 miler, I woke up and told HK: I have a great idea! I'll run two loops of Tantalus this morning. He said Do you have mace? Pepper Spray? Want my switch-blade? Yeah, because me cutting my own fingers off would scare the potential rapist away. It's been a little rough on Tantalus lately. A cyclist was stabbed. There are drug deals in many of the turn-outs. But it's beautiful up there in the woods, and it's the best hill we've got.

 

I promised to run with my phone (it might help with the finding of my body, right?) and to check in as soon as I'd finished. On the way up, I was offered pot by teenagers at the first turn out (no thank you) and then saw a tranny-hooker and her client fighting over money in the next. I almost told Mr. Crying Game just to pay her, because really, I could tell from 40 feet down the hill, so there's no way he was surprised. But I didn't want to get stabbed. I passed a nice but scary neck and face-tattood man, and then ran past two guys smoking from a glass pipe on the street near the top. That's beyond my scope of drug-recognition, so I can't tell you what it was, but really, would it have killed them to walk 10 feet into the woods first?

 

I also saw a few native birds, enjoyed the long stretches of quiet, and ran into a few friends running and cycling up there. The first descent didn't hurt, and I think I have my Hoka's to thank for that. They are great! The second climb back up was easier than the first (and I saw no drugs at all that time). The second descent was painful for my quads - exactly the way the downhill hurts after the Newton Hills as you head into the final miles at Boston. I ran 8-9 minute mile pace up the mountain, and 6 - 6:30 minute mile pace down the mountain.

 

And now, I'm shot. I am glad it's in the bank, but I can't walk down stairs very well. Here's hoping it wasn't too much, too close to race day.

 

I slept in today. Taper time! After two 80+ mile weeks, it's time to back it down to 50-60 miles this week, then 40 the next, and then it'll be race week. That snuck up fast. I'm developing a plan for the race. Something completely different. More on that soon...

Too soon.

We lost a wonderful, loved member of our community this weekend on Oahu. Duda was a healthy, kind, happy, wild, Brazilian who was always a pleasure to be around. He was a dad and a husband and a brother, and if I'd ever thought about it, I would've said he had another 30 or 40 or even 50 happy years ahead of him. And then he didn't wake up. I chatted with him at the tri shop last week while trying on shoes. It was just us in there that afternoon, which is rare, and he said that life was great, that his little girl was such a joy. I am heartbroken for his family. He was so loved. I woke up to the sad news on Sunday morning and spent the rest of the day clinging to HK, who is about the same age as Duda was, telling him how much I love him. My kids are lucky they're out of town for spring break, because they would not have been as understanding as HK was. 13 year-old boys don't want to hear how loved they are, and how grateful I am for every minute with them. Duda sold me my first bicycle when I wandered into Boca to ask about doing a triathlon back in 2005. He told me to join one of the Boca clinics, so I did. After one of our first runs in the clinic, where we'd pushed the pace towards the end, he gave me one of my favorite compliments of all time. I remember that we were in Kakaako Waterfront Park, so winded we were all in a group with our hands on our knees, trying to catch our breath, and he looked at me and said You, Rachel - you run like a boy. I loved that.

 

I ran 83 miles last week, with both a solid tempo and track workout thrown in. My 3-hour run on Saturday flew by, even solo. It was completely enjoyable. I have no gps right now, so I went by time, and did some bad running math and guessed I was running a little under 8 min pace and likely to get about 23 miles in. I mapped it later and found it was 23.1 at 7:45 pace. That'll do. I thought about running on Sunday, just to make it a 90 or 100 mile week, but then my perspective changed with the news of Duda's passing, and I can't say I cared much about running anymore, so I rested instead. We went for a little surf in the evening, just to get outside for a while.

 

I didn't sleep well, and I headed out in the dark this morning for a 16-miler before work. I saw a beautiful sunrise over Molokai from Kamehame Ridge, and got some good hill-climbing and some tears out. I'm sending all my love to the Torres de Sa family right now.

 

 

Doing Enough

Is it just me, or does everyone else tend to get a bit of I'm-not-doing-enough panic from time to time, especially when we compare our training with our friends in real life and on the blogs? I hear that my friends B & T are at the track twice a week running hard intervals and I think, wow, I'm not doing enough! No wonder I can't keep up. This is not a rhetorical question, by the way. I'm really curious. Tell me I'm not crazy, people.

 

I worry sometimes, but then I remember that different things work for different people, and while I honestly think I could do more speed and tempo work without hurting myself, I also know that if I did more speed and tempo work, I would not like running as much. I wake up sick to my stomach on track mornings. I psych myself out before I even arrive at the track. This isn't fun, and I run for fun!

 

However, when I know I have a 3 hour run coming up, I wake up excited and ready to tackle it. I have my coffee timer set, my shuffle charged, my clothes laid out, and I poke HK in the ear and nose until he gets so annoyed he wakes up and agrees to run with me. It's a routine that I love.

 

Lately I alternate weeks, running an evil track workout every other week, even though there's one on the schedule every week. There are mile markers on the roads here because of the Honolulu Marathon, so if I wake up on a track day and the dread is just too much, I cheat and run mile repeats on the roads instead. Fortunately, my coach is me and I tend to let my slacking off slide. I could be Boston-cramming with speed and tempo every week because that'd likely lead to a better race. But I just don't have it in me.

 

On Thursday, I went to the track to run a ladder before work. We didn't get out of the house as early as planned, so we had to drop the top "rung" - the 1600. In retrospect, I should have dropped the 200s. We ran 200, 400, 800, 1200, 800, 400, 400 (oops!), 200. The goal was to run the back half of the ladder faster than the front half. That was no problem, considering I could barely run a 6 minute mile pace when I started. By the end, I ran 84 for the 400s, and 36 for the 200. The most impressive thing about the workout was HK. He tends to stick for the first 100m of any interval, then his footsteps disappear. He ran the last 400 in under 1:30. The footsteps never went all the way away! And for the final 200, he was on my heels. I felt like I was being chased by a bear.

On Friday, I ran 20 miles before 7 am. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. They're never easy, but it wasn't hard either, and the average pace was well below 8 minutes/mile in the end. But, an hour after finishing, while sressing out about all I had to do on my way to the office, I got slammed with a migraine. That's my body's complete shut-down NOW command, and I always heed it, because I go almost completely blind for the first hour and have to pull over where ever I'm driving and take scary drugs and sleep it off.

On Saturday, I ran an easy 5 miles around Paia, Maui in the evening while I waited for my pizza to be ready at Flat Bread, mostly to keep myself out of Tamara Catz and away from her bikinis. Ok, so it didn't really work, I still bought one (the black one, my fashion sisters Kir and Kerri, because I know you can't not look). It was a great little recovery run.

Paia

 

I took Sunday completely off, partly because I had a course to attend all day, and then a flight home immediately after, and partly because I stayed up way too late in Kula Saturday night catching up with my old friends Tess and Ben. I say old because Tess pointed out that we met at 18. Exactly half our lives ago! And that makes me feel like we are all quite old.

 

And today I got up and cheated on the track. I ran 12 miles instead, in clear, 60-degree morning air, and I threw in 4 miles of tempo in the middle. I learned some new stuff this weekend, and I think it was the key to not giving up or quitting when 6:15-6:20 pace got difficult. So maybe knowledge is running-power, too?

 

The point of all that is that even with an easy weekend, I think I'm probably doing enough. Not as much as my friends, but still, it's all I can do. This week's goal: 75-85 miles with three key workouts. Tempo is done. I have track later this week (50/50 odds on whether I'll show up). And then a 22-24 mile 3-hour run this weekend. The rest is just brainless, happy running.

 

65 and up

No, that's not my AG, although my ankles think they're 65. That's last week's mileage. My friend Jules was out with her fancy camera near the Lanai Lookout last weekend and took these shots of me climbing the hill past the shooting range out on the road to Sandy Beach. I was about 1:30 into a 16 mile run after a late night that resulted in sleeping in, then running in the heat of mid-morning with what I call hangover-gut. I look happier than I was, but mostly just because I was happy to see Jules, who is always fun to talk to. Not a bad backdrop for a long run, is it?

 

 

 

On Saturday the 2nd, I ran my first 20-miler since last fall. Team Kailua (Brigitte, Todd, Steve, and HK) carried me through. HK, Brig, and Todd were there for the first 30 minutes, and then when they turned around, Steve and I chatted our way across Enchanted Lakes, Norfolk, Olomana, across the marsh, and into Aikahi. Steve finished at home in Aikahi, which left me only an hour alone with my brain, and I worked my way back across Kalaheo to Enchanted Lake, then up to Maunawili. Average pace: 7:45/mile, which means that I am finally starting to shake the cobwebs off. That's a standard long-run pace for me. Usually, it feels easier than it did this time. When I got home, HK was waiting with a bucket of ice for me to stick my grumpy ankles in. He made me an egg sandwich while I writhed in ice-pain. Oh, and he bought me my own foam roller. See why I love him so much? The foam roller is pink, so I'm calling it a belated Valentine's present.

 

This week's goal: 75+ miles. But it's going to be hard with a whirlwind trip to Maui this weekend for two days of sitting in seminars from 8-5 with dinners out afterwards. To account for what might be a non-running weekend, I'm aiming for 10-15 miles per day during the week, and I'll sneak a 20+ in there one day.

 

The staycation weekend at the Ihilani was exactly what my mind, body, and relationship needed. HK and I made no plans. We loafed. We watched a wedding at Lanikuhonua at sunset, during which he took this selfie:

 

 

Karma was quick though, because shortly after he posted this to facebook with the caption It's a conspiracy, we hopped in his truck to head to Chuck's Steakhosue for dinner, and the valet said Alright Mr. Ross, you're all set. He didn't really like that. We spent most of the weekend drinking fruity cocktails by the pool, watching whales from our balcony, and just relaxing. It was perfect.

 

All Over the Map

 

Boston is six weeks away. Six weeks! I'm not readdddddy!

 

To make it feel like I was actually training for something in spite of my ass-dragging workouts, I wrote out the key workouts for the next 6 weeks in my cute little Believe I Am training log. I'm following the plan I made for Chicago, but this time I'm going to try to finish more of the intense tempo workouts than I did for Chicago. I also stopped eating sugar, because I have no off button for sugar. Me + sugar = 5 extra pounds that just fall off when I kick the habit. March is a Whole30 month, although I modify the Whole30 to make it Whole30 + wine, because I like wine. And if I can't have sugar or processed food or wine, I'll probably do something stupid like pick up drugs or smoking or drinking hand sanitizer or bathsalts (I don't even know what that is, I just hear about how bad bathsalts are on the radio), just to have a vice. I had black coffee and a pile of dry-roasted mac nuts for breakfast today. Wheeeee.

 

I am not running the women's 10k on Sunday. I made a decision after the GAR debacle that I would not race over race weight again. It works out though, really, because I need the distance instead anyway. I did the mileage math this morning, and it turns out what I thought was a 45 mile week last week was actually 55. And that means that 65 is fine for this week. And 75 for the following week. I'll hit peak mileage 4 weeks out, when the kids are on Kauai for Spring Break, which is closer to race day than I've ever run high mileage before. This week I've run mile repeats, a tempo workout, and a few ten-milers, all before the sunrise.

 

When the Sunday morning race got canned, HK and I decided it was time for a staycation. So we're off to spend the weekend here, on the west side:

 

 

I was hoping it'd be a shell-hunting kind of weekend, but the wind and waves refuse to cooperate. So instead, we're packing the short boards and my wetsuit, and maybe we'll make it a surfing weekend. Or maybe we'll make it a pool-lounging kind of weekend. Regardless of what we do, the break is much needed. I've been a stressed out mess, because work and the kids' activities have been really busy and running has been crappy. I even successfully started an argument with HK on Tuesday. It was only our second fight in 3.5 years, because HK is impossible to get riled up. He's as reasonable, rational, understanding, and mellow as any person can be, but when I'm a big enough train wreck, apparently I can piss anyone off. We were fine within an hour, but still. If we're fighting, there's something off in our little universe.

 

Last west-side trip, I came home with this.

 

I'm posting this photo with my beautiful friends Shel and Haseena to show what happened when I decided I didn't like my forehead anymore in the midst of the super-stressed out disaster mode. I cut bangs, which wouldn't be a big problem, if they hadn't come out orange. I don't dye my hair. It turns blonde in the front from the sun on it's own. But it turns out that the part that's under the blonde when my hair was pulled back is orange. And now, I'm probably going to have to dye my hair to fix it. Or I could just start dressing like Strawberry Shortcake. Does anyone know if Kick a Ginger day is soon?

Remember those United Colors of Benetton ads?

 

Finally, I found the best shirt ever for my time-challenged man. When I gave it to him, he laughed and said I love it! But you probably should have bought me seven. He is always late. I got it at Print Liberation, if any of you have a chronic late person in your life. You, Super Pacer, should probably buy yourself a week's supply, too.

 

Stages of Bad-Race Recovery

I have to let bad races stew a few days before I know what to do with them. These are my five steps to bad-race recovery:

1. Denial: Oh well, who cares? It's just a hobby. (Immediately post-bad-race, I'm always happy.)
2. Self-loathing: I suck, I shouldn't have even raced. If I wasn't me, I'd be embarrassed for me. (Usually later that day, looking at results online.)
3. Discouragement: I'm not racing again until I'm fit. The Hapalua and Boston are out.
4. Self-Pity: I'll never be fast again.
5. Motivation: I'm going to train like an absolute crazy person until I'm fast again.

Immediately following the race, I didn't give a rat's ass that I had sucked it up out there. But by Monday night, I was annoyed at myself, so I went out and ran another 8 to make up for the crappy 8 miles I raced in the morning. On Tuesday, I ran 10 on tired legs, because losers don't get to be lazy, then on Wednesday, Todd, Noa, and Brigitte dragged my sorry butt up Tantalus after work. It was brutal climbing the mountain on exhausted legs, and I fell back, then caught up again, here and there. Sometimes I couldn't even talk! (I think Noa was relieved in those moments.)

 

Somewhere in there (during Discouragement) I realized I'd failed to sign up for the Hapalua Half Marathon Chase in two weeks. I also pieced together that it's looking unlikely that the other mothers (KN & Brigitte) are going to be joining me in Boston, for a myriad of reasons. And I decided that I'm not running again until I'm fit. I wasn't going to bother racing either. What's the point? I've run Boston before. I'm not fit to PR, and won't be by April 15. Running 26 miles un-fit isn't fun. I've run a 3:12 marathon like 6 times, I don't really want to run until I'm chasing a new PR. I don't even know what goal is next. 2:55? Finish in time to shower and make it to the Sox game by the 2nd inning? 

 

Brigitte was supportive when I asked her advice: If you aren't feeling it, don't do it. Any of it. I liked that response. Then I got an email from Saucony. I'd kind of forgotten that I'd applied for sponsorship this year, until I got the email with the subject line: Congratulations!

 

And well, Saucony was my first sponsor, back in 2006. I ran Boston that year. Saucony is based in Boston. It was only my second marathon, and I had no idea what to expect. I crossed the line in 3:04, dazed and lightheaded and ecstatic, and stumbled directly into the bar that Saucony had rented out for a finish-line party. There were stairs, so I just sat for a while on the bottom one. A long while. My parents and one of my brothers were waiting at the top of those 14 stairs and had no idea I was done. But those stairs were insurmountable. Then someone in a red t-shirt came down the stairs and yelled, HEY! We have our first finisher, and people brought me a sweatshirt and water and helped me up to the party.

 

How can I not do that again? Just because I sucked at the Great Aloha Run? Who cares (I'm back to 1)?

 

So, it's on. I'm racing this weekend (10k), next weekend (10k), the next weekend (13.1 m), and well, maybe I'll just try to race myself to fitness. A 10k tomorrow after 800s today is unlikely to be fun. But it'll help get me there.

 

One last note about the GAR. You know how HK doesn't even like running and racing and it's awful and why are we doing this? Yeah, check out his finish photo:

He's clearly having a terrible time.

 

It's much better than his finish pic circa 2010:

 

 

HK, me, and Stacky post-GAR this year.

 

(Oh, photos courtesy (or not) of marathonfoto, in case you didn't see it written all over them)