At Least I am Sexy . . . .by: Susan Moury
(I find that writing is cathartic when I have a bad race; so some of this may have been edited out because it is usually raw emotion. I will try to keep it short since most of us have short attention spans)
It is said that the marathon is all mental. I say it is a symbiotic mesh of mental and physical; one without the other often results in a bad race. When both of them fail you, you have the type of race I just had.
Without sounding arrogant, I always considered myself a mentally tough person. I never felt I was particularly the best athlete, but I always felt that my background gave me the mental toughness to succeed in the marathon; which might be why it has always been my favorite athletic challenge. I can’t swim and biking will result in another ER visit, but running long has always been my sport. When I needed to be mentally strong because my legs were hurting I had a mental breakdown; the result of 2 years (last 2 weeks in particular) of an emotional seesaw of my always dysfunctional family (parents, not husband). Ten days before the marathon, while completing a workout on the treadmill, my left calf seized up and felt as though it was a rubber band ready to snap. So I stopped running, swam and went to spin class Thursday and Saturday. On Sunday, while running with Diane, my calf stiffened up again. I finished the 11 miles, but hobbled around for the rest of the day. So, I finally succumbed to the idea I needed professional help (physical), and I made an appointment at Pennell. There, Ken basically told me I was unbalanced and treated the sore calf with cold laser therapy on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. I went to Spin Tuesday and Thursday and swam on Wednesday with a hot young man! My calf felt good and I did a test run of 15 minutes on Saturday. All seemed well.
I went to the Cleveland Towpath Marathon apathetic about the race. I went there Saturday evening after eating a homemade pasta meal with my family. I went by-my-self. It was an easy drive, 101 miles, 97 of it on the Turnpike. I checked into my hotel at 8:30 pm, settled in to my PJ’s, iced my sore calf, ate a small snack and read some People Magazine before setting my alarm for 5:00 am.
I woke up, ate a hardboiled egg and a power bagel with Gatorade. I applied heat to my calf and messaged it with the Stick. I showered quickly and dressed, packed my bag. I went down to the hotel lobby at 6 am got a banana and waited for the shuttle. The shuttle arrived at the hotel at 6:40 am. What should have been a 10 minute ride turned into a 45 minute drive because the bus driver got lost. After a brief minute of panic, I calmed down and listened to my IPod. I got to the race start with plenty of time to visit a Portolet (as they are called in Ohio) and do my warm up. While waiting at the start I met a guy named Josh, who just happened to know our rabbit, Erin. We talked, wished each other luck and we were off.
The course is beautiful; absolutely stunning. There were aid stations and Portolets almost every mile. The 1 thing there wasn’t; time clocks, which became important because my Garmin hit my leg and stopped. So I just used my Garmin to check my pace. I ran according to plan – miles 1-6 around 8:10-8:15 pace, miles 7-12 about an 8:00 pace, miles 13-18 about a 7:50 pace. At mile 18.5 my right calf cramped up and the cramped traveled through my hamstring into my groin. After it cramped, it stiffened and made my leg felt heavy. I kept telling myself to just keep running, don’t stop, listen to your music and it will be ok. So I started searching for my go-to happy songs: “Moves Like Jagger,” “Fly,” and “Sexy, and I Know It.” But finding them became a chore and I was frustrated with how I felt. I kept trying to tell myself that this discomfort was nothing compared to the pain my uncle felt while dying from pancreatic cancer last week, or the discomfort of my grandmother, who has been in and out of the hospital with complications from Parkinson’s disease this week. But it didn’t matter and that pissed me off more. I was disgusted and frustrated with myself again and I just started to bargain with myself. If I make it to mile 20, I can walk while I have my last Gel. But at about 19 .5 or so I had to stop. I consumed some gel, drank my water with Enduralites and started to jog again. I went on this way for the rest of the marathon jogging for about a mile and stopping at the aid stations to get water. At the mile 22 turn-around loop I NEEDED a portolet. While using the facility I had a feeling of vomit and had to get control of my entire digestive system before starting back up. And so it went. The pure emotion of the race caught up with me and at mile 26 I literally started to hyperventilate and finished the race gasping for breath and concerned race officials asking me if I need assistance. My response: “NO! F#$%*&! No, I just need to walk!” At which time they left me alone.
So there was a Great Lakes Beer tent with the very nice fall festival that was set up in association with the race. Some poor guy wanted to buy a beer for $3 but only had a $5. The vendor didn’t have any change at the time. In an effort to drown my sorrows, I needed a beer and had $10 in quarters. I bought the round and walked to the hotel shuttle. On my way, I ran into Erin’s friend Josh, who ran a 3:04. His dad took a picture of me saying, ”such a pretty girl should have her picture taken . . . and the beer in your hands really makes the picture.” I am sure that picture is much better than the finish line picture of me gasping for air.
After the race I realized that several people wanted to know how I did; I was too embarrassed to talk about it so I texted Joella and said “please just post somewhere that I don’t want to talk about it.” I didn’t want to be rude and have people think I was ignoring them but I didn’t want to tell people I was a huge, giant failure that day, either.
When I got home there was a FB message from a work friend. She ended the message saying “you’re sexy and you know it!” My posting on Sunday was only “At least I am sexy.”
In a nutshell
Goal – 3:30 Actual – 4:06 . . .
It is said that the marathon is all mental. I say it is a symbiotic mesh of mental and physical; one without the other often results in a bad race. When both of them fail you, you have the type of race I just had.
Without sounding arrogant, I always considered myself a mentally tough person. I never felt I was particularly the best athlete, but I always felt that my background gave me the mental toughness to succeed in the marathon; which might be why it has always been my favorite athletic challenge. I can’t swim and biking will result in another ER visit, but running long has always been my sport. When I needed to be mentally strong because my legs were hurting I had a mental breakdown; the result of 2 years (last 2 weeks in particular) of an emotional seesaw of my always dysfunctional family (parents, not husband). Ten days before the marathon, while completing a workout on the treadmill, my left calf seized up and felt as though it was a rubber band ready to snap. So I stopped running, swam and went to spin class Thursday and Saturday. On Sunday, while running with Diane, my calf stiffened up again. I finished the 11 miles, but hobbled around for the rest of the day. So, I finally succumbed to the idea I needed professional help (physical), and I made an appointment at Pennell. There, Ken basically told me I was unbalanced and treated the sore calf with cold laser therapy on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. I went to Spin Tuesday and Thursday and swam on Wednesday with a hot young man! My calf felt good and I did a test run of 15 minutes on Saturday. All seemed well.
I went to the Cleveland Towpath Marathon apathetic about the race. I went there Saturday evening after eating a homemade pasta meal with my family. I went by-my-self. It was an easy drive, 101 miles, 97 of it on the Turnpike. I checked into my hotel at 8:30 pm, settled in to my PJ’s, iced my sore calf, ate a small snack and read some People Magazine before setting my alarm for 5:00 am.
I woke up, ate a hardboiled egg and a power bagel with Gatorade. I applied heat to my calf and messaged it with the Stick. I showered quickly and dressed, packed my bag. I went down to the hotel lobby at 6 am got a banana and waited for the shuttle. The shuttle arrived at the hotel at 6:40 am. What should have been a 10 minute ride turned into a 45 minute drive because the bus driver got lost. After a brief minute of panic, I calmed down and listened to my IPod. I got to the race start with plenty of time to visit a Portolet (as they are called in Ohio) and do my warm up. While waiting at the start I met a guy named Josh, who just happened to know our rabbit, Erin. We talked, wished each other luck and we were off.
The course is beautiful; absolutely stunning. There were aid stations and Portolets almost every mile. The 1 thing there wasn’t; time clocks, which became important because my Garmin hit my leg and stopped. So I just used my Garmin to check my pace. I ran according to plan – miles 1-6 around 8:10-8:15 pace, miles 7-12 about an 8:00 pace, miles 13-18 about a 7:50 pace. At mile 18.5 my right calf cramped up and the cramped traveled through my hamstring into my groin. After it cramped, it stiffened and made my leg felt heavy. I kept telling myself to just keep running, don’t stop, listen to your music and it will be ok. So I started searching for my go-to happy songs: “Moves Like Jagger,” “Fly,” and “Sexy, and I Know It.” But finding them became a chore and I was frustrated with how I felt. I kept trying to tell myself that this discomfort was nothing compared to the pain my uncle felt while dying from pancreatic cancer last week, or the discomfort of my grandmother, who has been in and out of the hospital with complications from Parkinson’s disease this week. But it didn’t matter and that pissed me off more. I was disgusted and frustrated with myself again and I just started to bargain with myself. If I make it to mile 20, I can walk while I have my last Gel. But at about 19 .5 or so I had to stop. I consumed some gel, drank my water with Enduralites and started to jog again. I went on this way for the rest of the marathon jogging for about a mile and stopping at the aid stations to get water. At the mile 22 turn-around loop I NEEDED a portolet. While using the facility I had a feeling of vomit and had to get control of my entire digestive system before starting back up. And so it went. The pure emotion of the race caught up with me and at mile 26 I literally started to hyperventilate and finished the race gasping for breath and concerned race officials asking me if I need assistance. My response: “NO! F#$%*&! No, I just need to walk!” At which time they left me alone.
So there was a Great Lakes Beer tent with the very nice fall festival that was set up in association with the race. Some poor guy wanted to buy a beer for $3 but only had a $5. The vendor didn’t have any change at the time. In an effort to drown my sorrows, I needed a beer and had $10 in quarters. I bought the round and walked to the hotel shuttle. On my way, I ran into Erin’s friend Josh, who ran a 3:04. His dad took a picture of me saying, ”such a pretty girl should have her picture taken . . . and the beer in your hands really makes the picture.” I am sure that picture is much better than the finish line picture of me gasping for air.
After the race I realized that several people wanted to know how I did; I was too embarrassed to talk about it so I texted Joella and said “please just post somewhere that I don’t want to talk about it.” I didn’t want to be rude and have people think I was ignoring them but I didn’t want to tell people I was a huge, giant failure that day, either.
When I got home there was a FB message from a work friend. She ended the message saying “you’re sexy and you know it!” My posting on Sunday was only “At least I am sexy.”
In a nutshell
Goal – 3:30 Actual – 4:06 . . .