Ten Years with Zoey

Zoey and I first met at the PetSmart store in Edmond, Oklahoma. While all the other rescue cats meowed and clamored for our attention, a quiet gray tabby sat in her corner, half-dozing, half-paying attention. I opened the cage and outstretched a hand. She sniffed my fingers and then agreed to let me pet her. From the very beginning, she was the Queen of Playing It Cool.

Our first photo together

In true kitty cat fashion, everything was on her terms. She would snuggle with nobody unless it was her idea. The first time she approached me to snuggle was about a month after she joined our family. It was the day my childhood kitty, Whiskers, died. I was a mess and she knew it. "Okay, fine. You can pet me. Don't squeeze me too tight though, you got that?" her face seemed to say.

Her favorite way to play was through a hole in a cardboard box.

That fall, her favorite activity was chasing the brown recluse spiders as they moved inside for the winter. Each morning for about two weeks began with vacuuming up all the spider parts left scattered across the living room floor.

She also specialized in dragonflies and butterflies.

Driving from OK to WA

Over the next several years, she followed us through two cross country moves, the first was to Alaska. We did a few practice trips with her in the car to see how she would react. Thankfully, her highness was pretty understanding. The most nerve-wracking moment of all her travel days was when I had to walk through the metal detector at the Seattle Airport with her in my arms. We were still getting to know one another after less than a year together. I can still hear the TSA agents shouting to one another, "Hurry up and get the pet carrier through!" as Zoey wriggled to break free from my arms.

She spent pretty much every waking moment from April to October out on this patio.

By the following summer, we were settled into our third floor condo just west of Fairbanks. Zoey loved our patio. All the smells! The sunny spots! It was her favorite. When winter came around, she still mewed insistently at the patio door. One cold winter day, we decided to finally give our potted tomato plants their swift freeze dried death. It took almost an hour with hot towels and blow drier to get the door to open. The plants died so quickly at -40F that they remained green the rest of the winter. Zoey followed me outside, parking herself on a dry corner of the patio. I called her to come in, she didn't budge. So we stood there, her stubborn self and my shivering one, until I could no longer stand it. Even though it was very cold outside, she still gave me that look, "What? Already? I'm not done."

Curious and a little bit jealous that he gets to be outside.

A few years later, we moved from Alaska to California. This time we drove. Zoey didn't love the frost heaves on the Al-Can. She didn't love the long days without naps. We were surprised that despite her fatigue, she always made time to explore each hotel room thoroughly before settling on a giant pile of pillows we had prepared for her. When we checked out of a hotel in Beaver Creek, Yukon, the desk clerk asked how the cat slept before she asked about our stay.

Watson Lake, YT.

By the time we arrived in California, Zoey had about two weeks of naps to catch up on so we left her to relax. The first day we were in town, we went house hunting. We saw three homes that day. It wasn't the best day to look at houses due to the rain, but our third visit caught my attention. There was a garden and the yard was fenced in and lined with bushes. As I stepped out onto the patio, I told Matt, "Zoey would love this place."

And oh she did. In her first few years, she liked to climb over the fence into neighbors' yards. She always figured out which ones had dogs and which didn't. Some days, I'd about have a heart attack looking for my lost escaped kitty only to find her either in a neighbor's yard or on my own front stoop. As we became more established in our new home, we eventually planted a catnip patch in the herb garden. From that summer on, every trip outside began with a trip to the catnip bush. She loved that thing.

When the weather wasn't so nice, we had a table set up next to large picture windows overlooking our front yard. She spent almost all her time looking out the window or napping next to it. She led a pretty cushy life.

Quiet time was her favorite. Whenever Matt sat down to pick up a book or magazine, Zoey magically appeared at his side. When I stretched out on the couch for a nap, she enjoyed being my little spoon.

Since I spend far more time at home than Matt does, Zoey became my sidekick. She kept me company in the kitchen, the garden, and if I let her, with the chicken chores. She was always curious and we joked she was my furry shadow. In our house, I was always being watched. It was especially adorable on ice bath night. She'd hear me scream as I lowered myself into the cold water and came running. Then she kept me company until I got out of the cold water.

In her spare time, she liked to unroll my yarn.

It happened so frequently that I took to leaving a ball of scrap yarn out on the floor for her to roll around at night rather than the expensive merino wool yarn of my current project. Each morning, I woke up to a new design. 

"Do you like it, Mom? I made it just for youuuuuu."

In September 2014, things began to change. We noticed her rotund fat cat physique begin to deflate. While at first we though this was a good thing, she needed to lose a pound or two, it kept going. Now down almost four pounds in four months, her weight loss was accompanied by vomiting and refusal to eat. Zoey's vet referred us to a specialist. At that point, we weren't ready to say goodbye to our then eight year old kitty. Since we were already planning to be in Medford, OR the next weekend we made an appointment with the specialist there and Zoey tagged along on our half marathon race weekend.

How to properly hotel with a kitty.

We returned home after that trip heartbroken but determined to give her the treatment she needed to keep her cancer from progressing as long as we could afford to pay the bills. And we did for nearly three years. Ups and downs came along the way, but she survived twice as long as was expected given her diagnosis.

Zoey demonstrates how to block your knitting project.

After a few weeks, pill time was routine. It took me all of five seconds to get each pill down. Going out of town was a different story. Not accustomed to strangers even visiting our house, she was defensive and soon we ran out of friends willing to risk life and limb to wrangle and slip pills down her throat while we were away. We had no choice but to bring her with us. That's how Zoey began her life as a traveling cat.

I know, Zoey. Lithia Park is a weird place.

Over the years, we learned how to adapt to travel with a cat. Eventually, she even learned to use the litter box when we stopped for breaks. I truly believe she enjoyed these trips with us because the close quarters brought her extra attention, snacks, and snuggles.

No it's cool, I didn't really want to use my bed anyways.

She and I fought over the chair next to the heater on our yurt trips, we went for walks (or rather, I followed as she led me around) in numerous city parks, and shared my travel snacks when they were deemed edible. She went everywhere with us, not only at home, but when we went out of town.

What we think walking a cat looks like....

What it actually looks like. Guess you're climbing a mountain today, honey.

While she settled in for a morning (or afternoon, or evening nap), Matt and I went out for a run or ski or hike. When I returned for a nap of my own, she was more than willing to cozy up next to me for another snooze.

This was part of a four day trip. We napped like this every single day. :)

Zoey's favorite holiday was Christmas. She inspected all the boxes that arrived at our door, squeezing herself into the smallest ones she could wriggle into far enough to sit.

This one always makes me LOL.

She never met a box she didn't like.

We bought her a really cool cat tower. She didn't touch it. The box it came in was a hit though.

Unwrapping gifts was another favorite time for her. Crunchy paper, new toys, yes yes yes!!! Even as she grew older, we managed to coax at least a little playtime out of her on Christmas morning. I have hundreds of photos of her playing in mounds of wrapping paper.

About a year into treatment, her cancer went into remission. She was in remission for a few months before we had to restart her medications. From there, we were able to keep her weight and appetite steady. That is, until about September of this year.

Plain yogurt, yum!

Every time we thought we were losing her, she'd rally and perk back up, usually just in time for a trip somewhere. She tagged along, enjoying the extra snuggles and food options, and it seemed to perk her up again.

Hello. Yes, I would like pancakes please. With tuna. Hold the pancakes.

Patio breakfast. Impeccable table manners.

Our last trip together was to CIM in early December. She was still a fussy eater, but her energy levels seemed good and she still enjoyed all the snuggles. Even then, I knew that her time was coming soon. I could see it in her appetite and in her increasingly gaunt frame. Our final night together, I knew it was time to say goodbye, I could see it in her face. "I know you're tired. It's okay if you need to go now," I whispered. She gave me that look, the one I had been searching for these last three years and hoped I wouldn't miss. She was hurting and asking me for help.

Matt and I said goodbye together the next morning, our vet getting teary eyed along with us as our little family of three dissolved. When she's returned to us, her final resting place will be beneath that huge catnip bush she loved so much. The big backyard with all the scented bushes was always for her anyways. I have a small cat shaped frame with a picture of Whiskers in it. Soon there will be a similar one with a Zoey photo sitting beside it.

Snuggles with Matt.

 

Ten years together was not enough, but I'm grateful for every second we shared. Zoey brought so much love and joy into my life and I know that my heart will forever treasure and miss her company.

Zoey: The Goodbye

I never realized how fine a line it is between "hanging in there" and "it's time" until we got there. Thursday was a nice day. The sun was shining, usually a rarity for December, and it was unseasonably warm. For the fourth day that week, Zoey followed me outside when I went to feed the chickens. She took her usual spot on a patio chair cushion I had set down to help keep her cozy. She stretched out in the sunshine. After about an hour, she came back inside and settled on a different sunny spot on the floor.

That night things suddenly changed. By morning, Matt and I were on the way to the vet, Zoey wrapped in a blanket and tucked into my arms. When the vet came into the room, he said the words we didn't want to hear but already knew were coming: "It's time."

After that, it has been a blur of tears and sadness and reminding myself that she's gone. Every time I enter a room, my eyes search for her. I have to remind myself that she isn't here. Every time I come home, I have to stop myself from saying "Hey Zoey!" and have taken to saying "I miss you, Zoey" instead. Every time I cry, she's not there to comfort me like she has these last ten years.

It all sucks in a way I can't even put into words.

To me, she was more than just a cat, she was my best friend.

As I look through old photographs of us, I'm comforted by the wonderful memories we shared. In my next post, I'd like to share some of those with you.  Maybe that will help turn my tears into happy ones.

Taken the day we met in July 2007

California International Marathon 2017

When it comes to CIM, marathon morning begins relatively early. The alarm sounds at four o'clock. Matt and I shuffle around quietly as we prepare for the morning. Being this is my twenty-first marathon, everything feels routine and familiar. Zoey snuggles up to me as I eat my bowl of Lucky Charms. Then comes the donut. It's frosted and decorated with rainbow sprinkles. Finally I stuff my bag with the remaining food items and my gloves and depart the cozy cocoon of our hotel room.

The bus ride to Folsom is warm and cozy. Runners chat nervously around us while I try not to nod off. When it comes to race nerves, I've learned that I perform best when calm so I almost go out of my way to relax. Matt and I are the first ones to leave the bus when we arrive at some random intersection in Folsom. Last year we didn't get to the corral early enough and both of us wasted too much energy weaving through a slower pack of runners. This year, we're there early but it's not quite early enough. I finally stop fighting the crowd as I take my place near the 3:27 pace group. Matt gives me a quick peck on the cheek and we wish one another luck before he disappears into the sea of runners.

The starting horn sounds, and in what seems to be a tradition for me these days, I feel my eyes well up with tears. Over the years, the marathon has taught me so much about myself and my inner strength that I view it as something of a friend. I'm grateful for each and every marathon start that my body has given me.

As planned, I'm careful to control my pace. Runners around me dash off ahead, including the 3:27 pace guy. It's not until the first mile marker that he begins to show signs of slowing down. I hit the first mile right on target.

Mile 1: 7:40

From here, I'm settling into a rhythm with the nearby runners. The pack thins a little and soon I'm running in step with the group ahead. I take inventory of how my body feels. Everything is relaxed and calm, including my lower back, which had been giving me trouble earlier in the week.

Mile 2: 7:38
Mile 3: 7:26
Mile 4: 7:27 (water)

As the miles pass by, I check my splits but pay little attention to the pace. Around the mile four aid station, I catch up to the 3:22 pace group. In general, I don't love pace groups. Runners are too competitive and I don't like being around all that nervous energy. They like to push and shove too and I like my own little bubble. So when I find myself just ahead of them at around 10K, I make it my goal to stay ahead of them so I can try and forget they're there.

Mile 5: 7:32
Mile 6: 7:39 (Shot Bloks and water)

10K: 46:53, 7:33/mi.

When I reach the 10K timing mat, I realize just how far my running has come this year. When 2017 began, my PR was 47:12. I've since run a faster time in a race and later in training, but this split still comes as a surprise.

Mile eight is always a tough one for me and the CIM course. The springiness of fresh legs goes away and the pace begins to feel like work. The work is manageable, but at the same time, it's much different from the previous miles. Maybe there's a baby wall here?

Mile 7: 7:35
Mile 8: 7:46 (salt tab and water)
Mile 9: 7:41

Mile ten is perhaps my favorite mile of the course. It's also the hilliest with the most turns. It should be a slow mile, but it never is. This is where the first large crowd gathers. There's the local high school pep band playing and hundreds of people gathered to watch. Through the hilly terrain, I find myself surging up the hills and cruising down the other side. In the past, this has always produced the best result for me. I think I'm slowing a lot on the uphills, but every time I check my pace, my watch reassures me that I'm still at a 7:40/mi.

Mile 10: 7:32
Mile 11: 7:43 (Shot Bloks and water)
Mile 12: 7:33

Today's race is my fifth running of CIM. The first time, I was surprised by all the hills that this supposed downhill course offers. In all, it climbs 683 feet, and feels very similar to the Boston course with a similar amount of climbing. That said, the field is always competitive and maybe it truly is "The Fastest Course in the West" due to that fact alone. The weather can be hit or miss, but today it's 45 degrees and sunny with just a hint of west wind. It's amazing! I couldn't have asked for better weather!

Five CIMs got me into the loyalty program: a pin and a coffee mug!

Mile 13: 7:33

Halfway:1:39:35, 7:37/mi.

Screen grab from the Halfway Cam video.

Just as I noted at the 10K timing mat, the halfway split clocks in at a milestone too. In February this year, I raced a half marathon in 1:39:05. Despite the feedback the numbers are giving me, it doesn't seem to worry me. McMillan says I can run a low 3:20 time, I'm going to try and do that, I tell myself. My form feels relaxed and my breathing is under control, let's keep going with this pace for now. If something changes, we can adjust.

As the miles tick by, I notice short spells where my breathing becomes more difficult. When I look down at my watch after many of these moments, I realize my pace has increased to the 7:20s. I urge myself to slow it down a little. No wonder, dumdum, you're going too fast, I tell myself.

Mile 14: 7:32
Mile 15: 7:35 (Salt tab and water x2)
Mile 16: 7:35

It's somewhere around mile fifteen that I begin passing runners. As I approach different runners, I can see their struggle in their form. I take cues from them to relax my shoulders and to breathe calmly. It also happens that my inhaler is tucked into my left glove in a way that if I clench my fists (something I'm prone to doing when I get tired in a race), it causes a dull pain in my arm. This accidental reminder to relax my hands seems to help me keep the rest of my upper body calm.

Mile 17: 7:34

On our trip to Sacramento, we broke up the driving time to visit with our runner friend Brandon in Petaluma. We had dinner together on Thursday night. He's the one responsible for introducing Matt and me to Rachel. When we got back to the hotel that night, Rachel and Brandon both sent us messages: "We're coming to CIM!" They cleared their weekend schedules so they could come cheer us on. They had planned to be at mile 9, yet while I looked, I didn't find them. But here they are at mile 17!! They cheer me on, shouting coaching advice about staying relaxed and letting the pace flow through me as I passed. Those words will echo in my head through the coming miles.

Mile 18: 7:37
Mile 19: 7:26
Mile 20:  7:44 (Gu and water x2)

Mile 20 Split: 2:31:57, 7:36/mi.

Screen grab from Mile 20 video

Nearing mile 20, I notice my vision becoming fuzzy. Sometimes this simply means my contacts are drying out, sometimes it means I'm getting dehydrated. I make it a point to get plenty of water at the aid station at mile 20. The water tastes amazing and I promise myself that it's time for that third salt tab when I reach the next aid station.

Mile 21: 7:31 (Gu, salt tab, and water x2)
Mile 22: 7:46
Mile 23: 7:29

At mile twenty-two, there's one final hill: a bridge over the American River. I feel my legs lock up and pace begin to slow. It's fine. You're tired, legs. Once we crest the bridge there's a little downhill to recover, I tell myself. I'm so deep in my own head that I barely notice the crowd growing in size and volume. I grab my final water at mile 23, telling myself that we're done stopping until the end unless the situation grows dire.

Once I begin the final five kilometers, I decide that it's time to try and pick up the pace. At first, my legs are reluctant, but with a little coaxing, the pace comes down ever so slightly. Near mile twenty-four, I hear church bells chiming for the ten o'clock hour. Three hours. Matt is probably done now.

Mile 24: 7:30

At mile 25, I do a little math in my head. My watch is showing 3:10 elapsed time. If I can run an eight minute mile from here to the end, that's ten minutes. Every second counts. I repeat that mantra in my head for the next several minutes.

Mile 25: 7:28

I hear the clock chime again, but this time I'm not as alert as I was just a mile ago. 10:15. Hurry!!! You can break 3:20 today! Of course, hurrying at the end of the marathon is a relative term, but I notice my shuffle speed up a little here and there before my energy takes another dip.

I spot Rachel and Brandon again. This time, they're jumping up and down. I'm feeling strong. They can see it. "Three twenty, Karen!" they scream. I spot Matt tucked away in a crowd across the street. I take a few moments to smile and then it's back to work. Up ahead, I'm trying to spot our next turn. I know that it's only a minute or two after that turn that I get to stop running. :)

The last mile seems to go on forever, but suddenly I see the wave of runners up ahead veer left. I hit my watch's lap button for the final time at the twenty-sixth marker and then make one more left hand turn.

Mile 26: 7:31

It's not until I have less than a quarter mile to go that I can see the finish clock. To my surprise, it has just ticked over to a gun time of 3:19. Since my chip time will be different than that, I don't bother to do the math, only to tell myself that if my gun time is faster than 3:20, my official chip time will be too. I stride out, not very inspired to really pick up the pace.

 (Isn't it great that this is a free download video? Thanks, SRA!)

I cross the finish mats with ease and pause my watch. The time staring back at me is still 3:18. What?

Mile 26-finish: 1:40, 7:08/mi.

Screen grab from finish line video

3:18:55
7:37/mi.

Second Half: 1:39:20, 7:34/mi. (a negative split from first half by fifteen seconds)

As I pass through the finish area, someone hands me a medal. It's definitely the heaviest one I've ever received and it sways back and forth from my neck as I shuffle my way through the food zone. I see other runners reuniting and suddenly spot my runner. He's already on the other side of the barricade so we agree to meet at the exit.

The next few moments, my thoughts turn inward once again as I process what had just happened. Did I really just break 3:20? It took me half a dozen tries to finally break 3:30, how did this one come so easily on the first try? Raw emotion spills out as my eyes well up again. The only words my brain can come up with are these: holy. shit. holy. shit.

Rachel C. photo

Once reunited with Matt, I proudly show him my watch, a PR by nine minutes (previous: 3:27:53). He said he had a feeling that's what I would run. I quickly ask him about his time. He didn't quite hit his goal, but he matched (to the second!) his course PR of 2:51:25 and his fastest marathon in several years.

Didn't feel the need to ring the BQ bell, but yes please to the cupcake!

We grab my bag, one of the cupcakes for the "Boston Bound", and then hunt down Rachel and Brandon. They spot us from the top of a cement flower planter. Together the four of us make our way to a patch of grass on the state capitol lawn. I means so much to me that both Matt's and my running BFFs made a special trip to cheer us on. By Monday morning, I noticed I had smiled so big all weekend that my cheeks hurt almost as much as my post-marathon legs.

These are my people. :)

CIM Goals

Choosing a marathon goal is a crucial part of my pre-race preparations. I like to analyze the data and make a goal early in the week. It's sometimes a stressful experience and getting it out of the way early is necessary to helping me relax. Finding a goal this time around proved to be especially difficult. In the past, I've always had a good idea where I stand in terms of fitness. Chipping away a minute or two here and there has been logical.

This is what my calendar had to say about Sunday.

Then I drastically changed my training this summer. Mountain ultras have always been a comfortable place to spend those long summer days. This year, however, I kept my volume lighter and focused on short intervals and tempo runs. What was my mile repeat pace suddenly became my weekly tempo pace (6:50), then my 5K pace.

In training for the half marathon this fall, I ran up to seven miles at a 7:08/mi. in training. The same workout this spring was a huge struggle just to break a 7:25 pace. That summer speed translated well to a half marathon PR, during which I unofficially broke PRs in the 10K, 15K, and 10 mile too.

At this point, I think it's safe to say my previous lack of short distance training caused me to plateau in the marathon, improving slowly from 3:31 to 3:30 to 3:28 and finally to 3:27. So now that I have improved my fitness, my lactate threshold and VDOT both shifting faster, I'm not quite sure what that means for the marathon. Part of my pre-race preparation is analyzing the data. I compare my race times all the charts I can find and then analyze my own training as a whole.

Here's what Jack Daniels said I could run. My summertime training was based off his training formula:

lolol ok sure, guy.

Historically, my times have always been pretty aligned with the McMillan Calculator. Here's what that had to say:

Quite a bit more believable

And finally, my own training. Just as I like to create a training plan before the season begins to see the big picture, I find it helpful to analyze all the data afterward when creating a goal. Here's a breakdown of what happened this fall:

Hiking not included in totals.

While September lacked some of the traditional speed workouts, I think the two long trail races provided a unique twist on fast finish endurance runs. Perhaps those provided an even better training run than the marathon pace workouts on flat pavement. Then as I progressed through October, everything came together in the way that my Type A personality likes the best: two 10 mile runs at a 7:33 pace, each during a 70 mile week. Both felt comfortable and sustainable for a longer period of time.

Is your head spinning yet? After all that, mine was.

Then the second part of my goal making process is to talk it out. Out loud. In front of the mirror. Lay it all out there: fears, concerns, and finally the pep talk.

What it all boils down to is that I know my body and how it responds to the marathon. How it should respond at several different points in the race. If it isn't right, I'll pull the pace back, whatever it is, until I hit the right effort level. That's why I choose a starting pace and don't worry about anything else. Last year's CIM started off pretty rough. I pulled the pace back a bit through much of the first half and surged the last 5K and ended up with a PR. That same savvy helped me run well at Boston this year when it was too hot to go for my original goal and I was one of the few who didn't have a complete blow up.

So here's the plan: I'm going to go out at a 7:40-7:45 pace and see what happens. If I need to slow down a bit, that's okay. If I've got a little energy leftover at mile 22 when I cross the American River, I can pick it up then. That pace should net me a finish time somewhere in the low 3:20s.

----

Now for the final part of my race week prep: Forgetting all of that. I've found that the best way for me to keep from getting nervous is to try and pretend I'm not running a race on Sunday. :) Other than the expo, I stay way from all the excitement of marathon weekend. Sacramento isn't quite as marathon-centric as Boston is on race weekend, so this part should be easy.

Wish me luck!