"You have great physical powers and an iron constitution."
- Chinese Fortune Cookie
Yesterday, I finished my first marathon. My goal was to finish all 26.2 miles without stopping or walking. Though I had had the talk with myself several times that "there is nothing wrong with walking" (my contingency plan was to walk one, run four, if I hit a wall), I was only going to stop running if I felt at risk of an injury. But since this was a whole new race distance to conquer, I stayed humble to it. I was facing the unknown in taking it on. It is always a little fearful to face the unknown, even when it's something you've chosen that excites you. But I am one to cry when I read Runners World, especially the columns of John Bingham and Kristin Armstrong. I am always the most moved and inspired by the stories I read about someone overcoming their fears, or emotional pain, or physical limitations to achieve something they did not think they could do, or believe of themselves in the first place. I cry for the beauty of transformation that each of these storytellers find in their lives, and the humanity it touches in all of us.
I did not think this was going to be my marathon year. In June of '06, my ulcerative colitis manifested in an unusual way - by freezing up my finger joints and my knee joints on both my right and left sides in a severe arthritis which compromised my ability to bend, sit, grip, or walk easily, much less practice yoga or run. All of my physical activity stopped for over three weeks. This was facing the unknown at its most fearful. Without answers, without physical outlets for my emotions, I was facing my worst fear - losing my health - and I felt like I was losing my mind at the same time. After seeing a rheumatologist, homeopathic doctor and my GI doctor, I faced another fear and took prednizone. Despite making me feel very sick, it worked, and within eight days, I was off of it - and off on my first run. I was filled with gratitude and felt like I could run forever, even though I stuck to only a few miles. I was o.k. It was time to start building again.
My first goal was to run the Philadelphia Distance Run in September, though I didn't tell anyone. I trained for it privately, in case I couldn't make it. I ran 4 miles at a time, 3 days a week, and built up mileage slowly week by week after that. I trusted that with consistency and patience, I would regain my cardiovascular fitness. It was challenging to feel limited by how hard or how fast I could run, but not as challenging as it was to not be able to run at all.
I finished the 1/2 marathon in 2:17:18, which I was proud of. My friend Joy and I had trained the longer distances in the woods together, and decided we wanted to keep going. She had done the NYC marathon the year before and wanted to train for Philadelphia. I decided it would be a challenge and accomplishment enough just to try, and with Joy as a partner, I felt inspired. We found a 3 day a week training program on line, and jumped to the 13 mile training week. We planned to fit in at least one 20 mile run four weeks before the race. Another friend who had done a private coaching session before NYC was told that if you get in one 17 miler, you can finish a marathon. Other training programs I found for beginners included only one 20 miler as well. For all of my 2 1/2 years of experience as a runner, I knew that a lot of distance training was pure science - consistent training for your heart, slow mileage building, speedwork, tapering, proper fuel, hydration and recovery. I had really no choice but to put my faith in these facts, and look at it all as a big science experiment on myself. After all, part of the pleasure of running is learning to understand your limits and needs, and thereby know yourself better.
I did not think this was going to be my marathon year. In June of '06, my ulcerative colitis manifested in an unusual way - by freezing up my finger joints and my knee joints on both my right and left sides in a severe arthritis which compromised my ability to bend, sit, grip, or walk easily, much less practice yoga or run. All of my physical activity stopped for over three weeks. This was facing the unknown at its most fearful. Without answers, without physical outlets for my emotions, I was facing my worst fear - losing my health - and I felt like I was losing my mind at the same time. After seeing a rheumatologist, homeopathic doctor and my GI doctor, I faced another fear and took prednizone. Despite making me feel very sick, it worked, and within eight days, I was off of it - and off on my first run. I was filled with gratitude and felt like I could run forever, even though I stuck to only a few miles. I was o.k. It was time to start building again.
My first goal was to run the Philadelphia Distance Run in September, though I didn't tell anyone. I trained for it privately, in case I couldn't make it. I ran 4 miles at a time, 3 days a week, and built up mileage slowly week by week after that. I trusted that with consistency and patience, I would regain my cardiovascular fitness. It was challenging to feel limited by how hard or how fast I could run, but not as challenging as it was to not be able to run at all.
I finished the 1/2 marathon in 2:17:18, which I was proud of. My friend Joy and I had trained the longer distances in the woods together, and decided we wanted to keep going. She had done the NYC marathon the year before and wanted to train for Philadelphia. I decided it would be a challenge and accomplishment enough just to try, and with Joy as a partner, I felt inspired. We found a 3 day a week training program on line, and jumped to the 13 mile training week. We planned to fit in at least one 20 mile run four weeks before the race. Another friend who had done a private coaching session before NYC was told that if you get in one 17 miler, you can finish a marathon. Other training programs I found for beginners included only one 20 miler as well. For all of my 2 1/2 years of experience as a runner, I knew that a lot of distance training was pure science - consistent training for your heart, slow mileage building, speedwork, tapering, proper fuel, hydration and recovery. I had really no choice but to put my faith in these facts, and look at it all as a big science experiment on myself. After all, part of the pleasure of running is learning to understand your limits and needs, and thereby know yourself better.
Marathon Training
I had always thought that training for a marathon would be too great a time commitment to fit into my already packed schedule. I thought you had to be one of those runners who felt they needed to run everyday. I wasn't that obsessed with running. If I made it out to run three times a week and averaged 15 miles, it was a good week. When Joy was training for NYC last year, I was in awe of the distances she was taking on each weekend - 15, 17, 20. She had surpassed anything that I had ever done. She started running with a fuel belt. No, I couldn't even imagine it.
But here I was, wanting to go further. Joy and I ran our first 15 miler on a Monday night after work. We both left early to maximize daylight and set out around 4:30 from Falls Bridge towards the Wissahickon. As night started falling we left the woods and returned to Kelly Drive to run in our own shadows from the lampposts. I hit a high realizing I was running the longest distance of my life and training for a marathon, on a weeknight! As soon as we stopped running, I couldn't stop moving, my calves were in so much pain. Thankfully, Joy had ice packs in her cooler that I used as she drove back to the city. After that, we didn't leave home without them.
Through more aches and pains in my calves, arches, ankles and mild "runners knee," I iced, wore patella bands, and took cool tub soaks with Epsom salts. (Brrr!) My cross training was yoga one or two times a week, with two days rest from running after long runs, and one day between mid-week runs. After our 17-miler, I wrote in my running log that I couldn't believe my body was doing this.
There were times when my u.c. flared up when I thought I might have to stop training. There was the post accidental-hangover 15-miler when I almost died at mile 7 (not literally). There were three weeks I didn't know I had a sinus infection, and the week my system was so messed up in every way possible from the antibiotics for it. I figured all of these obstacles were a part of my mental training. As soon as I hit my groove on each of those runs, I didn't feel any of my physical ailments - no pressure in my head, no discomfort in my colon, no pain in my joints or muscles. Thoughts of gratitude filled my head and heart. I felt grateful for these long runs and Joy to do them with. Even on weekday runs which took the most discipline and sometimes were in the early a.m. or the treadmill after dark (both not my favorite) I would think, "I love running. I could do this forever." There was the long solo run when Joy and I couldn't train together, there was the Sunday of our 20.5-miler when we had to start in the early morning so that I could make it back to shower and pick up two colleagues for a work event (talk about pressure!). And there were the times I lied to get out of other commitments so I could run. I won't list them here in case I might offend anyone who is reading. But yes, I became one of those totally obsessed runners without meaning to. Without even trying, actually.
But here I was, wanting to go further. Joy and I ran our first 15 miler on a Monday night after work. We both left early to maximize daylight and set out around 4:30 from Falls Bridge towards the Wissahickon. As night started falling we left the woods and returned to Kelly Drive to run in our own shadows from the lampposts. I hit a high realizing I was running the longest distance of my life and training for a marathon, on a weeknight! As soon as we stopped running, I couldn't stop moving, my calves were in so much pain. Thankfully, Joy had ice packs in her cooler that I used as she drove back to the city. After that, we didn't leave home without them.
Through more aches and pains in my calves, arches, ankles and mild "runners knee," I iced, wore patella bands, and took cool tub soaks with Epsom salts. (Brrr!) My cross training was yoga one or two times a week, with two days rest from running after long runs, and one day between mid-week runs. After our 17-miler, I wrote in my running log that I couldn't believe my body was doing this.
There were times when my u.c. flared up when I thought I might have to stop training. There was the post accidental-hangover 15-miler when I almost died at mile 7 (not literally). There were three weeks I didn't know I had a sinus infection, and the week my system was so messed up in every way possible from the antibiotics for it. I figured all of these obstacles were a part of my mental training. As soon as I hit my groove on each of those runs, I didn't feel any of my physical ailments - no pressure in my head, no discomfort in my colon, no pain in my joints or muscles. Thoughts of gratitude filled my head and heart. I felt grateful for these long runs and Joy to do them with. Even on weekday runs which took the most discipline and sometimes were in the early a.m. or the treadmill after dark (both not my favorite) I would think, "I love running. I could do this forever." There was the long solo run when Joy and I couldn't train together, there was the Sunday of our 20.5-miler when we had to start in the early morning so that I could make it back to shower and pick up two colleagues for a work event (talk about pressure!). And there were the times I lied to get out of other commitments so I could run. I won't list them here in case I might offend anyone who is reading. But yes, I became one of those totally obsessed runners without meaning to. Without even trying, actually.
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