Ready

Matt stared at the laptop, fixated on the glowing screen. For half an hour, he sifted through maps, models, and forecasts. When he finally looks away, he turns to me and says, "I've been trying to think of some good news for you, but it looks pretty wet."

source

From the information he gathered, he came up with a forecast: "There's going to be a period of heavy rain, either from 4-7am or 7-10am", he explained, "The models say 4-7am right now. Hopefully that is right."
Our final run before CIM was wonderful. We managed to run during one day's few dry spells. We ran along in shorts and t-shirts. "Ain't you all cold?" someone asked as we passed. "Nope." It was warmer and drier than it is at home, actually. It felt amazing. During those three perfect miles, the forecast and upcoming race filled my head. Instead of dwelling on the struggles I can't control, I thought something else, perhaps what will be my race mantra, "Bring it on, Mother Nature."


I'm finally getting excited about this race. Bring it on Mother Nature, I'm ready for you.

CIM Goals

With just a few more days until the California International Marathon, our household has been abuzz with marathon talk.  Goals, race outfits, dinner plans; you name it, we’ve got it covered.  In keeping with our tradition, we will tuck in early the night before the race and watch a running movie (Unbreakable: Western States 100, this time) to get in the mood.  We paint our toenails lucky colors.

My goals remain the same as they have been since I began training.  Instead of setting formal A, B, and C, goals Matt suggested I go for what I really want.  So here’s my goal:

3:30. 

The end.

If you’ve been following me for a few marathons, you’ll know that I don’t set easy goals for myself.  I don’t set easy goals that I’m sure I will beat, or beat by five minutes or more.  To me, it feels like not setting a goal at all.  I’d rather set a more aggressive goal and fall a minute or two short than to avoid truly challenging myself.  I have yet to feel disappointment in the effort I give, that is all I ever ask of myself.  We’ll see what happens on race day.

Three days until CIM.

Average Wednesday

I tried to catch this run during the rain and heavy wind, but I was just at the tail end of it.  I wanted a race day simulation weather run but Mother Nature outsmarted me.  Hopefully that is a sign for Sunday.


This run felt good, not really hard, but not too easy.


Here are a few more happenings at my house lately:


Decorating our Christmas tree.  I'm definitely allergic to it, but isn't it full and beautiful?


In between the heavy rain systems, the sunshine comes out for a little bit.  Zoey is always ready for when that happens.



The dynamic clouds also produce some pretty beautiful sunsets.

One more run (3 miles trail) and four more days until CIM!

Taper Week 3

With the completion of my final long run (the 8 mile shown below), a flurry of different emotions swirl around inside of me.  Less than one week from now, I will be running the California International Marathon, my 8th marathon.

As I pin down travel details, the where, the what, and the who of our trip, I find myself organizing it in my usual style.  I thrive amidst a sea of lists, emails, and maps.  I often forget important things without this structure (ever go camping planning for hot meals and forget the stove? yup, that's me!).

This week, I'm focused on staying healthy and rested.  I've been drinking Emergen-C every morning with breakfast.  Even if it doesn't do anything but produce expensive pee, it gives my mind the reassurance that it is doing something to help. 

I also realized that I am allergic to my Christmas tree.  Matt absolutely loves having the smell of a real tree, so in a moment of weakness, I said yes.  So far, daily Neti Pot rinses and avoiding the room that it is in seems to help.  I'll let myself be all stuffy after the marathon.   It is the most beautiful tree I've ever had, I wish it didn't make me feel so awful.

If I didn't notice the recovery in previous weeks, I'm feeling it now.  A relaxed run with lots of chatting produces much faster results than before.  A 9:00/mi. was my conversational pace, now it is nearer to 8:00/mi.  That is reassuring.  With each rest day this week, I've felt reassurance as my confidence grows.

Race day weather isn't supposed to be nice.  From what the models show, Sacramento is supposed to get 1-2" of rain on Sunday morning, right during the race.  Matt comforted me by pointing out that it is rare that the forecast models be that accurate almost a week out.  There is going to be a windy and rainy storm, but when it appears is still uncertain.  Until then, I'm preparing for worst-case scenario and visualizing a successful race completely drenched and wind burned.  I'm still going for my original goal, which I'll write about in a separate post.

Source

How do you feel on the final week of the marathon taper?  How do your runs compare when you're fully rested?

Taper Week 2 Rewind

Here’s what I’ve been up to since the taper began.  It has been fun having a non-running lifestyle for a change.  I really love running, but hard training just before the marathon taper always makes me feel like I shun other interests in my life.

As previously mentioned, we skipped out to Redding to get some allergy relief and a change of scenery.  

It was a beautiful whirlwind trip, no complaints except it might have been too short.  Matt and I took advantage of the city by shopping and going out to dinner.  This cake was incredible.

On our trip home, we made use of our year pass to Whiskeytown and visited the Whiskeytown Falls.  Our rainy hike made the waterfall that much more beautiful.  I swear, lakes and waterfalls are best seen in the rain.

Then we returned home.  Coincidentally, the morning after I put Matt’s hair in pigtails he asked me to cut it short.  Competitive swimmers train hard with wild hair and then cut it short for competition.  Matt heard that Ryan Hall does the same thing, so it must be helpful.  With how thick Matt’s curly locks are, he probably dropped a few pounds with that.  Here are before and after photos.

We call this his Mad Scientist look.  You can see it, right? :)

Monday and Tuesday we entertained Aaron and his girlfriend Amanda, visiting from the Bay Area.  Aaron is my brother’s best friend from college.  I spent Tuesday hanging with Aaron, making Chris jealous.  Tuesday, Chris had his tonsils removed.  Talk about pouring salt in his wounds.  We took them to Humboldt Redwoods and we enjoyed the Bull Creek Trail.  Bull Creek looked like the Eel River.  After a few days of heavy rain, it grew in size by close to 10 times!!

Thursday, we ran the Turkey Trot while Zoey cooked a turkey.  Ryan and Shaina came over for dinner.  We watched the Lions lose and played games, as we usually do.

Goals for Taper Week #3: Healthy. Hydrate. Rest.

Any tips to help me reach these goals?

Turkey Trot 5K Race Report

I slept well the night before the race.  When Matt asked me what I hoped to run the 5K in, my only reply was “fast”.  The Turkey Trot 5K course is always action packed.  With its three loops and almost 800 participants, it requires a certain amount of strategy in addition to speed to do well.  My biggest mistake in every 5K race I run is that I line up too far back.  For this one, I could practically smell the flour start line drawn across the street, I was that close.  My goal for the first mile was to run like hell.  I reasoned with myself, “It is probably impossible to go out too fast in a 5K right?”  Well, wrong.  It did, however, provide me enough breathing room to focus on my running instead of dodging people. 

I'm right behind that group of tiny runners in white and blue.

I decided that I would only look at my watch enough to see the mile splits.  Other than that, I wanted to run by one feeling: hard.  By the end of the first mile when I hit the lap button, I noticed my time.  7:00.   (That’s my 800m repeat pace, btw.)  I faded a little bit on a moderate climb back to the start/finish.  When I hit the second loop, the gentle downhill felt out of control, as if at any moment, my legs would fly out from under me and I’d hit the pavement.  The broken pavement along 1st street really didn’t help matters.   Please don’t fall, I thought.

The second mile was kind of a train wreck, in 7:24.  For most of that mile, under sunny skies, a dark cloud formed over my head.  It took everything within me to keep going without a walk.  Since I only do mile and 800m repeats at those paces, my body begged for a recovery 400m.  After all, that is what it usually is given as a reward.  Not today, legs. 

A few friends walked the 5K with their families and cheered for me from the end of their first lap as I completed my second.  It was at the place in my run that I needed it most.  I was also passed by someone I recognized.  I pictured myself holding onto a rope behind her.  Glue yourself to Melanie, if she slows down, you can slow down, I promise, I reasoned.  Thankfully, she never did.  I rallied for the final mile, finishing the remaining 1.1 miles in 7:52, a 7:05/mi pace.

Huffing and puffing, gasping for breath, I crossed the finish line with a new PR. I so needed this race to go well. :)

Another floating Karen race photo.  Even Left Arm looks like she's working hard!

22:17.

7:11/mi.

Overall: 61/735

Female: 8/462

F19-29: 5/93

Matt looks calm and poised, oblivious to Tanya’s son, Connor closing in on him.

Matt also had a PR day.

He finished in 18:15. 5:53/mi.

Overall: 13/735

Male: 12/273

M30-39: 3/59

All photos courtesy of Y. Kim, SRRC.

Crisis of Confidence

Have you ever had a crisis of confidence with your training?  A poor attitude can seal your fate, no matter how well-trained you happen to be.  It reminds me of a favorite quote of mine, one that I know has been featured on this blog before:

(Source)

The taper does crazy things in my mind.  I think back to all that went wrong, from mediocre performances caused by circumstances outside of my control (Bidwell Half, Green Bay Marathon), to the last four months of allergy suffering.  How I didn’t feel ready to take on a marathon goal that was to be fifteen minutes faster than my current PR.  How most of my benchmark races fell short of expectations because of my allergy symptoms.  I really needed something to boost my confidence.

Now this is going to sound completely ridiculous, but it works for me, so hear me out.  Get in front of a mirror (bonus points if it is your bathroom mirror and a toilet is in the reflection adding an element of humor) and talk to yourself.  Be honest about why you doubt your abilities.  Look yourself in the eye and talk it out, realize why this is so important to you.  At first, it will feel silly and you might laugh but keep going.

My self-doubt was rooted in several different things:

1.       Part of me was still hanging on how Green Bay wasn’t “halfway” to 3:30.  I probably would have run a 3:37 in GB if the weather had cooperated.  Taking seven minutes off of that would seem much more manageable than fifteen minutes.

2.       I was still fighting the spot in my head that thinks a 7:xx/mi. anything has no place in my marathon.  Somehow, I believed that there was more between 7:59 and 8:00 than just a single second.  In reality, it isn’t a big deal.

3.       When I completed my first road marathon in just under five hours, I told myself that I would stop training for time when I reached 3:30.  Why 3:30?  Because I thought that was “super fast”.  I had also told my husband that once I reached that goal, we could start a family.  Now that I’m going for that “lifetime/life changing” goal, I’ve realized two things: I’m just getting up some momentum and figuring out how to run my best.  And I’m still not ready to have a family.  Matt and I have really enjoyed going for more ambitious goals and I don’t think I’m ready to stop here.  And babies, eek.  So not ready for that yet and it has nothing to do with running.

4.       My allergies and recent breathing problems bashed me down at a point in training where I was to feel the most confident.

As I stood there, essentially talking to myself, I talked through my fears.  I found a way to talk through my fears and by the end, I felt good.  My allergy problems are now under control.  I’m beginning to feel rested.  Those babies can wait.  The time to be selfish is now, while we have far fewer responsibilities.  If I want to chase another, faster goal, I can.  I have the world’s most understanding husband.  Although we’ve been married for five years already, I’m still only 28 years old.  Plenty of time.

In the first 10 miles, I can tell how the day is going to go.  If for some reason I feel awful, I can slow it all down to a training run and use the Redding Marathon in January as my re-do.  But I won’t need it.  I’ll think to myself, “Someday, I’ll run Redding, but it won’t be this year.”  That will help me sleep better the night before the race.

I thought through my training.  Several weeks of 50+ miles including two speed days per week.  Those 10 mile MRP runs were supposed to be hard and leave me wondering how I could go 16 more.  Those long runs were supposed to be slow.  Those taper weeks will remove the fatigue of weeks gone by.  Those three taper weeks without a 15-20 mi. run (as I’ve had every other week nearly all year) will have me jumping, drooling, and howling for a long day like an anxious sled dog. 

I talked myself through what race day would be.  I plan to run with Megan.  Both of us have the demons of marathons past to shake off.  We’ll get to the halfway point at 1:45.  I’ll remark that I never felt a half marathon at that point feel so comfortable.  I’ve never tapered for a half marathon, so by comparison, it will feel easy.  By twenty miles, I’ll be feeling okay and “easy” will slowly fade away.  Even if we slow a little bit in the last 10K, it never amounts to much unless we walk it, and it always hurts more to walk anyways, so we’ll keep running.  At mile 25, when all we want to do is nap, we’ll tell ourselves, “We can do anything for 10 more minutes” and “we didn’t come this far to give up now.”  We will cross the finish line, get our foil capes and feel like super heroes.  That’s what is going to happen.

Surprisingly enough, some of my face-to-face chat brought me to tears.  The catharsis erased the self-doubt and I left the room feeling strong.  This race will be mine.  I will victoriously celebrate with a giant burger, ice cream and the world’s best nap.

How do you prop yourself up before a big race?  Do you talk to the mirror?  Do you visualize what is going to happen?

I do all of these and read over my training stats.  Positive thinking isn’t going to “jinx” anything and isn’t cocky.  Positivity will help me kick ass.  The end.

Arcata Bottoms 3 and 8 Mile Races

On Saturday, I technically ran two races.  The first one began at 9am, the next at 9:45.  I could do both, right?  Why not?  The Arcata Bottoms 3 Miler was half 10 year olds.  My plan was to jog a slow warm-up, get myself another circuit race, and then be ready for the real race, the 8 miler.  A small handful of others did the same thing, including a girl in my age group.  I spent most of the slow run wishing I could run faster and beat the kids that beat me, their ponytails passing at waist-level.  

We did a little bit of everything that morning, even manned the registration table.

The other AG girl beat me, by 15 seconds—okay, fine, she can have one win over me this year (I beat her by 20 min in the 8 mi. so I guess we’re even).  I moved by slowly as Bob was doing his warm-up.  “You’re running the 8 miler too, right Karen?” he asked.  “Yeah, this is just a warm up, don’t worry,” I replied.  I’m sure he was a little concerned to see how slow I was going.  I completed the 3 mile course in 26:06, an 8:42/mi., if anything, a little fast for a warm up.

I quickly changed bib numbers and downed some water.  I had dressed too warm for the 3 miler and was already very sweaty.  I forgot to eat my snack.  I would regret all that later.  Oh well.

The 8 mile started off sluggish.  A tailwind for the first half made my sweaty dehydration problem worse.  My legs felt heavy and unresponsive.  I planned to run MRP (8:00/mi.) for this run and even that was difficult.  I ran mostly alone for the first half.  Just me, the cows, and another runner, whom I recognized as the woman I chased at Dow’s Prairie back in June.  Her long brown braid swayed back and forth with each footfall.  She made the pace look graceful and effortless, that is until we turned back into the wind.    She struggled in the wind and I passed her, then she passed me back, then I passed her, and she again.  When I got up close enough behind her to possibly draft off her, she began weaving around the road.  She did NOT want me to use her as a windshield.  But when I passed her, she had no qualms about drafting off of me.  What the heck?  The only thing I thought to myself was if she followed me until the last half mile and then beat me, I’d be a little miffed.  

The race was thankfully in that dry spot just before a bout of heavy rainfall, but at the same time, the 100% humidity and swift wind was almost worse.  I prayed for rain.  Just before mile 5, I hit the lone water stop with the braid girl (Grace, I later learned) and one of my running buddies Tracy.  I drank down my glass of water in a single gulp and went back to refill it.  The rest and water helped a lot. 

The three of us, Grace, Tracy, and I took off from the aid station at the same time.  This was the first time I ran with a group for more than a mile at a time.  It was fun and motivating.  I took the lead, Tracy drafting off of me, and then Grace behind her.  A neat little line of runners formed moving down the road.  When I crossed the road to avoid poor footing, they followed.  I heard heavy footsteps following me, little claps, like the ticking of a metronome.  I matched my pace to those claps and suddenly found myself picking up the pace a little bit.  Soon it was just me and Tracy.  We took turns through the last two miles, drafting and recovering out of the wind.  It worked and we soon found ourselves just half a mile from the finish.  

We splashed through what we hoped was mud in front of a dairy farm (I’m pretty sure it wasn’t) and then caught sight of the finish line.  We both mentioned how difficult the race was.  It wasn’t hilly, was it?  It wasn’t really that hard?  The only thing we could think of was how we underestimated the swift wind and high humidity.  “We can do anything for five more minutes,” I offered.  “Not sure I can at a sub-8:00 pace though!” Tracy replied.  As I pulled away, she shouted from behind, “you go girl!”  Hands down, Tracy and Tanya have been my biggest running club cheerleaders through this training process.  I think they believe in my abilities more than I do myself.

I crossed the finish line with nothing left.  I couldn’t believe how horrible that pace felt, and that was supposed to be my marathon pace!  It took a little while to reason with myself, that it was okay.  I don’t really have much of a top speed.  The online calculators predict a 5K time off of my marathon that I could only dream of someday hitting.  I’ve been marathon training for so long without much speed work that it makes sense that my best times come from long distances.  Anybody else have this problem?

1:04.44.

8:04/mi.

1^st AG.

4^th woman.

Everyone I talked to after the race agreed that there was something we couldn’t pinpoint about the weather that made it feel especially difficult.  At least it wasn’t just me.

Matt had a great day too, he said if the 3 mi marker was in the right place, he would have had a 3 mi PR.  Since it was our first 8 mi race, technically both of us ran PR races anyway.

His time was:

51:26

6:26/mi.

All photos courtesy of SRRC.

Lema Ranch and Churn Creek

Thursday’s run meandered through the trail networks of Lema Ranch and the Churn Creek Open Space in Redding. Up and down on the little hills, I constantly shifted between braking and speeding up.  Splashes of fall color met us along the run, but mostly the landscape was dry from a rainless summer. 

At each intersection, we debated where to go next.  Eventually, we found a couple of female runners ahead of us.  They were going about our pace, so we followed them for a little while.  They seemed a little bit worried about us trailing them and eventually let us pass, only for us to turn off onto one of many dead end paths.  Come back, runner guides!!

Our trail cheerleaders Cottonball an Q-Tip.

The first few miles were difficult to catch my breath.  As the air turned cooler and I warmed up more, I felt better. Eventually, I caught my stride and things went well.  This trip to Redding was largely an experiment to see how I would do with drier air.  It seemed to be helping.  With just half a day away from the coast, we both noticed an improvement in our allergies.  We arrived back at the car seven miles later, dropped off our water and camera and took one more lap around the park for a total of ten.  I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was a little bit when I realized how much faster I run without a camera.  I’m not constantly setting up the shot in my head or stopping to take the photo.  

 
The final three miles, we raced the lowering orange light in the sky.  The park gate closed at dusk, motivating us to push the pace to the end.  The final two miles were under an 8:00/mi pace. 

Every time we visit in the winter, I find myself in love with Redding.  The city is in a valley, surrounded by mountains in most every direction.  The city has trees that change color.  It occasionally gets snow.  But then, I remember what summertime is like and reality sets in.  I wouldn’t really like it here after all, although it is nice in the winter.

Mt. Shasta is wearing a Lenticular cloud hat today.

We just beat the rain.  See it off behind Shasta Bally?

Matt and I later went out for a nice dinner and did some shopping.  It felt nice to get away from our (these last couple weeks have been enough to flare Matt’s usually non-existent symptoms!) allergies.  If possible, we’d like to try going inland a few days before CIM to dry out our sinuses.  Hopefully that will be enough.

An Audience at the Track

The stands were full.  Everyone was there to cheer us on.  Matt and I slowly jogged our warm-up laps on the track, smiling and waving at our adoring fans.  Then we began our 800 meter repeats.  They watched our smooth strides glide along the track’s white line.  We moved like gazelles.  I reveled in their glances.  I enjoyed the swift beating of my heart, the expansion of my lungs with each respiration.  My legs danced along, strong yet light.  It was rush to have an audience.

Or at least that is what I tell myself when I ran my fastest set of 800m repeats ever.

Our track session began just 10 minutes before a walk/run class did at the CR track.  As the students began to arrive, we thought that we would be asked to leave.  They told us that we wouldn’t get in the way.  Turns out they weren’t our adoring fans after all, darn.  Some walked the outer lanes of the track; others jogged the trails of the nearby disc golf course.  It was fun running on the track with others.  Even though we all were doing different workouts, it was fun to have someone to chase (even if he was walking) a few 100m ahead.  It turned out to be my best track workout to date.  

Matt also felt the same way.  His repeats were in the 2:47-2:50 range (usually 2:55).

Friendly Support 20 mile

With just one long run separating me from the taper, I found myself along the usual route on the coast.  I wasn’t sure how many miles I would be able to complete, but set a tentative goal of 16, while secretly being hopeful I could at least hit twenty miles.  
 

My running routes are friends.  They prop me up when I need it.  They humble me when I get too cocky.  They help me realize where I fall short.  For this final long run, the capstone to a productive but challenging training cycle, the route was there to provide me comfort.  No matter what the pace ended up being by the end or how many miles I went, it wouldn’t be disappointed.

Thinking of the many 20 milers I have done out here in the last few months, I felt surprisingly good.  It was a wonderfully chilly day, the first time this fall that I wore a hat and pants.  The paces felt comfortably appropriate to the effort level.

My legs flirted playfully with the hills, the pebbles on the trail, the curves in the road.  I remembered the day that Matt and I lost each other on the run.  I remember the fatigue and long periods of walking.  All was forgiven now.  After we passed by the park 15 miles into the run, I told Matt something I didn’t think would happen at the end of this run: I wanted to push the pace.  I couldn’t believe how wonderful I felt.

We spent much of the run talking about the difference the inhaler made in my breathing and legs.  No longer did I feel oxygen-deprived.  Matt is anti-medication and had me questioning whether I really needed it, whether masking my symptoms was a good thing.  He argued that it might allow me to push harder than I otherwise would (like caffeine jitters do if it doesn’t cause me GI distress) and it might impede healing within my lungs. I’ve always taken the path of relieving my symptoms and improving quality of life.  When I get a cold, I hit the Dayquil and go about my day.  Without the inhaler, easy paces leave me breathless.  For right now, using it is the right decision, it is treating a medical condition I have.  Besides, they wouldn’t have given it to me if it weren’t medically necessary.  I'm pretty sure a breathing problem isn't something to mess around with.

The final miles felt good, yet hard.  My goal was to reduce the pace with each passing mile, ending at a mile around 8:00 for #19.  I surprised myself.  My mental power returned.  There is always something about the final long run that helps me push a little bit more.  I can almost see the taper.  It is on that patch of road where I hit 20.00 miles.  I run to it, like a finish line complete with flashing lights.  These are the final moments of intense training.  The road applauded, jumped for joy, and congratulated me on a fantastic run, my final mile just a tad slower than my tempo run pace, in 7:37.  I couldn’t imagine a better way to finish this run.  The taper merely serves as a time to absorb all that hard work.

That is my fastest closing mile ever.  Oh and it is faster than my 10K pace,too.  Woo!

20.00 mi.

2:55.03

8:45/mi.

Surprisingly enough, this is less than 10 seconds slower than my last 20 before Green Bay Marathon this spring.  Factoring in the hurdles I’ve faced this time, this is encouraging.  As for the taper, I plan on being more aggressive than I usually am.  I’d rather go into the race a little stale rather than an ounce fatigued.  We shall see.  So far, I’m enjoying the reduced pressure and mileage as I coast to race day.

Some Days.....

Some days, I don’t even think about it.  Some days, I think that how I processed what happened is the best way to cope.  Most days, I just accept that period and its resulting permanent disability and limitations as part of my life and move on.  Every day, I am glad to have had it happen to me.  I was able to find the inner strength within myself to fight.  We all have that inner strength.  When we are handed a life-altering curve ball, all we can do is swing and see what we’re made of. 

Today, November 11, marks the seven year anniversary of my cancer remission.  At five years, I was officially declared CURED of Ewing’s Sarcoma.  Most years, Matt and I don’t make much of a deal of it.  We acknowledge it and then move on.  A few years, it even passed without us even realizing it.  That’s because I don’t celebrate it one day a year.  I celebrate every day and will for the rest of my life.  They caught my disease early enough that I could survive it.  This second chance at life WILL NOT go to waste.

Four weeks into remission: Christmas 2005.

Last Thursday, while I was at the doctor’s office being allergy tested, the technician reviewed my medical history.  The only drug I am allergic to is an anti-nausea drug that was given during chemotherapy.  She asked about the reaction I got then, what I had and when, the usual questions I get.  I showed her my arm:  the long, serpentine scar along the top from wrist to elbow; the scar on the underside; the tiny one-bone forearm.  Then she told me her own story, one that included breast cancer and a mastectomy.  Suddenly, two complete strangers were united by one of the worst things possible: life-threatening illness. 

We kept the topic light, talking about how we were annoyed our leg hair returned far sooner than that on top of our head, neither of us willing to go into the scary parts.  I often have to keep myself from getting emotional when I encounter other survivors.  I know exactly how awful and terrifying it is and don’t tear up for myself, but for the others out of profound sympathy and respect.  But then I remember something, we belong to a more important club, one of survivorship.  That’s what stops me, the bright end at the end of the darkness.  It awakens an appreciation for life that few others understand.

Every day, I am thankful to be a cancer survivor.

Allergy Testing Before Taper

“I feel like all the hard work I’ve been doing is falling apart,” I said through the tears.  It was a beautiful sunny day, warm enough that I ran in my sports bra.  I can count the times in the last 10 years that I have gone without a shirt on a single hand, it is that infrequent.  It was also the about 48 hours into my anti-histamine detox. 

But what a spectacle I must have been: sobbing on the side of the highway in my own little breakdown.  It was just four miles into a planned 12 mile MRP run.  My lungs gasped frantically for breath but returned only short gasps; my legs were heavy and hollow.  I felt the same way I did when I did mile repeats at altitude.  I wasn’t getting enough oxygen to run. 

Of course I was being irrational in that moment of tears and sobbing.  A little overtired and not feeling good at all during this detox, I was more emotional than normal.  One bad workout wouldn’t spoil my training.  No, I cried more out of frustration and fear that my allergies would ruin my race in the future.  If I couldn’t get a hold on my symptoms, it could completely erase my goals.  Matt and I ran a few more miles at an easy pace, and then I tried again.  I couldn’t hold the pace.  We completed 9.5 miles, only 4 at MRP.  I felt broken.

Tuesday’s 7 mile run through the marsh with Tanya was exactly what I needed.  The air had a cool bite in it, my lungs responded better.  I don’t know what our pace was, but it was enjoyable, easy, and the miles just flew by.

I went to the doctor for allergy tests on Thursday.  When the technician told me I was allergic to everything, including my cat, my heart sank.  The only way to keep my cat would be twice weekly baths, “oh wait until I tell Zoey,” I thought to myself.  But when I finally met with the doctor to interpret the results, her news calmed me. 

I am indeed allergic to everything, but mildly enough that she thinks monthly immunotherapy is overkill for now.  She was alarmed by Monday’s almost asthma-like attack, but thought the dusty road (alongside a sawmill) and warmer conditions coupled with no medication would likely produce the attack I mentioned.  In line with what I suspected, my heightened symptoms were likely a result of the severe flu I had in June.  My lungs have not yet healed from whatever injury they sustained.  She gave me a non-steroid inhaler that is supposed to open my airways that I should use before every run.  It lasts 4-6 hours and she said would likely help for the marathon if I can complete it in that time frame.  I plan to remove all high intensity training from the rest of December and January to speed up the recovery process.  The lung injury could develop into asthma if completely ignored, so I’m going to try and prevent that.  Regular easy running helps clear my sinuses, so I won’t quit running altogether, just the hard stuff.

So Thursday afternoon, in between two bouts of heavy rain and small hail, I used the inhaler for the first time.  Within a minute, I could feel a tingling in my chest.  The heavy compressed feeling disappeared.  Then we hit the track.  I didn’t know how it would go.  After a little consulting with several running buddies, I decided to run the repeats until I stopped hitting the paces.

The first repeat felt incredible.  Not hard at all.  Then I noticed that it was too slow.  I gave myself another shot, with added effort this time.  The following repeats felt great.  I kept a slow, deep rhythmic breathing and I sailed through them.  My lungs felt free and calm.  It was another cool evening; my lungs always love those the best.

By the end of my sixth repeat, Matt stopped me.  “I think I’m going to cut this short, I’ve got a calf twinge that won’t go away.”  He’s been struggling with tight calves for the last few weeks, so he didn’t want to tear anything.  Smart move on his part, I think.  I didn’t want to make him wait in the cold another half hour for me to finish my last repeats and cool down, so I ran a seventh and then did a mile cool down.  I felt good enough to go longer, that’s all that mattered to me.  Matt has been so helpful and accommodating during these last couple of weeks that I really owed him one this time.  So we went home and soaked in the hot tub, stretched, and I massaged his angry calf.  I think we’re both ready for a taper.  Just one run left: the long one.