I’ve taken a break, but I want to now dedicate the time to really develop this blog. I don’t know if what I think is important to talk about will be interesting for other people to read. If it’s not, then at least I’ll have a place for all of my random musings.
If you’ve subscribed to this blog, you may have gotten an email and thought “Who is this, again?” Yeah…. sorry about that. Lots of changes. That may be my first real post back.
Stay tuned, friends. More to come.
And not just because I’m horrible at math…
When I was starting to lose weight, back in 2011, I downloaded an app that would keep track of how many calories one has allotted per day, based on your height and weight. Throughout the day, you keep track of what you’re eating. Whatever you eat, you put into the app and it subtracts the food or drink’s calories from your total. Also, if you worked out, it would add some more to your daily limit. This worked out great because I could see just how much I was consuming. I lost weight by running a lot and making drastic changes to my diet.
After a while, my new adapted lifestyle change was sufficient. I was pleased with the changes and the weight I dropped (40lbs) and I was confident that I could handle the eating ‘challenges’ without logging everything. So I deleted the app and things were just fine. I continued to run and eat healthy and felt great. I wasn’t trying to lose weight anymore, but food was fuel for my workouts. As my mileage increased, so did my appetite, but I knew what foods I could eat to fuel my next long run and I stuck with it. I didn’t diet; just ate the right foods that would push me further. I could finally look in the mirror and not detest what I saw. I became more confident. I was wearing jeans in sizes that I never dreamed of wearing. I loved people’s comments about how good I looked, how tone I had become, and how skinny I was. I finally felt beautiful.
But recently, in the last few months, I noticed my weight was dropping. I saw numbers on the scale that I didn’t even see in high school. And I was thrilled! Not because I was aiming for a smaller number, but that my hard work was paying off. I never thought I would see my weight go from 158lbs to 118. But I also noticed I was crashing on my longer runs. It was said to me, by my trusted friend and coach, that I was too small and too skinny for the type of running I do. That if I were to keep up my level of eating paired with my level of training, my body would start tearing down the muscle to fuel itself with and I would lose a lot of what I’ve worked so hard to obtain. So, to keep track of just how little I was eating, I re-downloaded the calorie tracking app.
I logged every single thing I ate or drank and it wasn’t long before I saw my problem. Not on purpose, but compared to what I burn off I wasn’t eating nearly enough. I read an article about staple foods for runners and it mentioned breads, pasta, and sweet potatoes, almonds; rich, dense foods that are great for fueling. I had been avoiding breads and pastas, honestly, because I was afraid of bloating. I’ve read those “wheat belly” articles and how that’s supposedly bad for you. I didn’t once think of the nutritional values I was missing out on. I went to the store and bought every single item on that list and that week, I ate it all. I could tell by midweek that I had more energy and didn’t seem starving all the time. And the long run on the weekend was the best 20 mile run I have ever had. I felt strong and fueled the whole time. It was great.
With the tracking to see how little I was consuming, I became obsessed with logging everything. I wouldn’t eat something without first putting it into the app, calculating how many calories it was and what it would leave me with, and then determining if it was worth it. I would look up calories on food brand’s websites before buying it. It became more than just an experiment to see what I’m putting in compared to what I’m putting out…it became a prison.
This past Friday night, the band traveled to an away game that was further away than usual and we stopped on the way for dinner. The dinner I had prepared for myself the night before (only weighing 470 calories) didn’t hold over well and wasn’t appetizing in the slightest. It was borderline inedible. So, I threw it out and decided to eat where we stopped. My co-worker announced we were going to Wendy’s. As soon as that word left his mouth, I was on my browser searching nutritional values of their menu and deciding what I could eat there, that would still fit into my daily calorie goal. We loaded the bus and for the first 45 minutes into the trip, all I was doing was “food math”. I was thinking, “Ok, I can get the chicken wrap…but a Jr. Cheeseburger is 200 calories less than the wrap, but who knows what’s in the meat. Also, I could get apple slices, but I’ve already had a ton of apple slices today as a snack. Dang it, I shouldn’t have had that orange, banana, and bag of apple slices today. That would’ve freed up some calories.” WHAT?! I’m sitting there thinking I shouldn’t have eaten fruit full of vitamins and essential nutrients. “I wonder if he’ll let me run over to the Longhorn and get something to go. I know there’s one of those close by. Let me look up that menu nutrition.” *goes over to menu page, finds ‘cheapest caloric’ meal, asks co-worker, negative-no time, back to Wendy’s page* “Okay…hmm…”
I was in total agony over this. My shoulders were tense, I was anxious, I couldn’t relax. And as I was right in the middle of that, I heard in my head, “Look at what you’re doing to yourself.” I sat back and thought of how ridiculous I was being. I couldn’t get over the numbers. I couldn’t “justify” eating a stupid cheeseburger ONE TIME because it would send me over my daily limit. At that point, I determined that I needed an intervention with myself.
I deleted the app. And ordered the cheeseburger, fries, and a coke.
*GASP*
For the rest of the night, I kept thinking about how I didn’t log my dinner and kept wondering how many calories I had left. It surprised me just how much I thought about that. I thought about how much time I must have spent looking up calories, carefully planning my day just right so that I wouldn’t go over my limit (mind you, I never, EVER was even close to going over. In fact, I wasn’t eating enough). And the funny thing was, I was expecting to feel so awful. But I didn’t. I felt satisfied, settled, and actually okay that I ate it.
Eating healthy is great. And for some, counting calories is the way to go. Power to you. But for me, I became an unhealthy slave to this mindset to the point of becoming almost paralyzed when something would thwart my plan. It’s not right for me to put that pressure on myself. I’m just fine. I can stand to put on a few pounds. And even though I won’t, I can stand to “blow my regimen”. I do have my cheat meals, and cheat days from time to time. But they should come as a celebration and I should enjoy them. Not feel guilty and beat myself up over, and contemplate working out harder or longer…or worse, contemplate making myself sick to get rid of it. My mind has got to change.
This weekend, I didn’t log a thing. I also discovered I’m addicted to seeing my weight on a scale. I’m pulling myself away from that as well. It does me no good to see that. I’m going to keep on running and keep on eating foods that fuel the run.
And if I must have, or even if I just want, that cheeseburger, donut, dessert, I’m going to eat it and not kill myself over it. I have learned moderation. I know when to stop and when to say no. I need to trust that. My old ways and habits will not come back. My life has changed.
So, no. I cannot count. And I won’t count anymore!
I won’t go into detail over every little thing I did in Chicago once I landed on October 9. But I had a wonderful time and it was a great mini-vacation with one of my dearest friends!
Here is the nitty-gritty of the Chicago Marathon, October 12, 2014.
My alarm went off at 4:15a on Sunday morning, after a restless night due to loud neighbors until 3a. I was in and out of sleep the whole night, probably not getting more than an hour and a half of sleep at one time. I gave myself plenty of time to wake up and check and double check that I had everything I needed for the run. It was nice and relaxing. Got dressed, ate half a clif bar and a banana. Said bye to a groggy Callie (my #marathonsupport), and headed towards the Pink line to catch the 5:37a train. Got downtown around 6a and made my way to security Gate #3. Because it was so early, security was a breeze. No lines, no wait. Found a monument with steps and sat down to wait until the 8a start. It was cold. I could feel my feet getting numb, so every now and then I would get up and walk up and down the corrals to keep blood moving. I used a porta potty once when I got there, then around 7:15 decided to go again. While waiting in line, I drank my pre-run fuel of UCan mixed with orange juice. Disgusting, but I swear that stuff works wonders. Peed one last time, then entered Corral F, the second wave of the marathon.
They announced that the crank marathoners were off, then the elites, then wave 1. At 7:50, they slowly moved us towards the Start line. I went to the side and stripped down of my layers. Threw away a sweatshirt and some wind pants and felt the chill of the 43 degree weather. I still had on my “arm warmers” (an old pair of tube socks with the toes cut out), my gloves, and a headband covering my ears. As soon as I saw the Start line, I became so nervous and excited…and also felt like I had to pee. I convinced myself it was just because I was so amped up and ready to go. I prayed and took in a big breath and mentally tried to get settled down and in the zone. The gun went off, I gave a big “WOO!”, and off I went.
We immediately went under a building and street. Very Batman like. Which was super cool, but my Garmin watch bugged out big time. I think it killed the whole connection for the rest of the race. I went by heart rate and tried to manually lap it when I crossed over mile markers, but I rarely knew my true pace. I started off running shivering and cold; half due to excitement and half due to truly being cold. It was exhilarating to be running with so many people (45,000 runners) and to be surrounded by so many people there to cheer you on (over a million spectators). The first mile and aid station came up super quick. I felt my bladder talking to me and realized that my nervous pee I felt at the beginning of the run was in fact a true need to pee. I saw a sign at the aid station for porta potties, and then saw a ton of runners veer off to say hello to them. But I kept going, trying to convince myself it would go away and I’d sweat it off. (Weird things go through your mind during events). As I was approaching the second aid station I could feel the urge to pee with every step. I was uncomfortable, and I knew I had to stop. I saw the red sign for the pots and headed off towards them. I immediately dipped into an empty potty, dropped my pants, and peed as fast as I could. It definitely wasn’t a nervous pee; it was totally legit. No way could I have run that whole race without stopping.
Callie and I had plans to meet up at mile 3, 13.1, and 25. I told her I was going to stay towards the left of the road, since the majority of the course had left turns. I also knew what she was wearing – a beautiful plaid scarf she had purchased the day before. Wouldn’t you know that EVERYONE was wearing that same scarf that day?! I kept scanning and trying hard to see her, but I didn’t. I passed the 5k mark and kept going, hoping she was okay and hoping I’d see her at the half.
I kept trying to calculate my pace. My watch would read 5:30/mile one second, then 15:50 the next. I guess the buildings, bridges, and underground places we had to run really tinkered with its connection. At mile 6, I was in the sun and warmed up quite a bit. I threw off my socks…I mean arm warmers, and headband, but kept my gloves on. After a while my hands were sweaty, so I threw them off as well. As soon as I chucked them, we turned into the shadows from the buildings again and I was shivering. Oh well. The raynaud’s kicked into my hands pretty hard. Couldn’t feel my fingers until much later in the race.
I ran as usual. Tried to settle into a pace and rhythm and just enjoy the sights. I was running by buildings that were discussed in the architecture tour that we took the day before, over bridges that were carpeted so you weren’t running on the slick grate, but I peeked at the water underneath. I laughed at the hilarious marathon signs people were holding up (“Slow down, I’m trying to count everyone.” “Smile if you’re not wearing underwear.” “Worst parade ever.” “Hurry up, my arms are tired!” “You’re almost there. Just kidding. It’s mile 2.” “I thought this race was 2.62 miles, not 26.2!”), they never get old. I acknowledged random strangers who made eye contact with me and deliberately cheered for me right then. I high-fived little kids, waved at live bands that were playing, gave thumbs up to those people who offered water and fuel at the aid stations. I was genuinely having a wonderful time. I wasn’t listening to music. I was being fully present and soaking in every single thing I could see, smell, and feel. I was so grateful to be there in that moment.
I knew my second meet up with Callie was approaching, so I scooted over to the left and started scanning the thousands of people along the streets. I was about to give up, when I came down a small hill and FINALLY saw her. Tears came to my eyes. Out of the millions of people lining the course, plus 44,999 other runners, I connected with the one person in the city who was there for ME. I ran over and grabbed her hand and heard her say “You look strong. Keep it up!” I heard her let out a big whoop as I kept running and I felt a burst of energy. It’s so refreshing to see others who believe in you, know how hard you’ve worked to get where you are, and who are there to be your support when you need it.
As I went I was sipping on water and UCan from my fuel belt. I didn’t slow down for an aid station on my own accord, but sometimes I was forced to just by the sheer volume of other runners out there. You were never by yourself the entire course. I bumped into a lot of people and dodged a few taller ones who almost elbowed me in the nose a few times. Had to jump to move around those who would suddenly stop at water stations, and one lady just stopped in the middle of the road to tie her shoe, causing a few runners behind her to literally jump over her in leap-frog fashion. It’s dangerous being a marathon runner.
I kept seeing a few pacers that concerned me. I saw “4:10”, “4:05”, “4:00”… I was getting down on myself for being behind them. I knew my goal was to run a sub 4 and it was demoralizing to see myself behind these pacers. So I picked it up a little bit and went in front of one. I turned around and noticed that their bibs were red, signifying that they were in wave 1. They were pacing for Wave 1, not my wave! Wave 2 had blue bibs! I saw a girl who was a blue bib and was a pacer that had “3:55” on it and I stuck by her like a sucker fish to a shark. I stayed with her for a few miles, but then she went off to the side at an aid station and I kept going, my confidence a little bit stronger. My watch was still acting crazy, so I really had no idea what true pace I was running…so frustrating. The spectators grew thinner as the miles kept going and I started to notice my legs. I threw in my ear buds and turned on some music around mile 17 to check out and not hear myself breathe.
We turned into Pilsen and it was one big, latino party! Lots of drums and people and the smell of tortillas! I read all of the Spanish signs, noticed the Spanish shops, and the beautiful people there. I almost responded to a cheer of “Vivo Mexico!”, but knew they would know I was a poser judging by how white I was. But I thought of my Tapachula family and running with Gustavo, David, and Uli while I was there this summer. I prayed for them. I then saw a guy in a mariachi suit, complete with sombrero, holding up a misting water hose and was spraying water on the runners. Why not? I ran over there and yelped as a burst of cold water hit my face. It made me laugh out loud and really woke me up!
We ran through China town next. Not as big of a fiesta as Pilsen, but still cool to see. By mile 20ish, I was feeling every step. My legs weren’t hurting, but they were tired. My brain was beginning its argument about why I should start walking. I knew that if I walked now I would be in a run-walk routine until the finish, just like I had my previous two marathons. I didn’t want that. I was aiming for a goal and I determined that I would rather miss it by slowing my pace down (which I still had no idea how fast I was running), than to walk and surely miss it. If I missed my goal it would not be because I walked any of it. I fought against those feelings and kept going. The crowds picked up again, and the Sears Tower was now in view, so I dug in deep and kept going. I ate half of a bonk breaker bite to try and perk me up, but as soon as I put it in my mouth I was nauseous and kept chewing. I swallowed it back with a swig of UCan and threw the rest away. I turned up my music, told my legs and my mind to shut up, and kept going. I was giving it everything I had.
I knew Callie would be around mile 25, so I started to look for her. I was on a long straight away that I had read about from other blogs and forums. They warned that it would seem to last forever. They were right. It was a straight up mental BATTLE at this point. I even had to say “NO!” out loud a few times to convince myself I was going to run this entire course. I looked and saw this crazy, yelling, jumping girl and knew it was my Callie. I don’t think I smiled at her, although I was truly glad to see her. Part of me was sad that it wasn’t the end yet, so I could stop. I wanted to just grab her and get back on a train back to the hotel right there. She trotted a few steps along side of me and told me I was almost there! I looked up and saw a video screen. They had those periodically around the course, showing video feed of the runners. I knew a turn was close. I exhaled hard, and picked it up as best I could. I had also read on the blogs that there was a wonderful hill to end your 26.2 mile journey on…
They had signs counting down your distance, which I hated. 800m is an insanely long time when all you want to do is be done. I turned the corner and saw the hill on Roosevelt St. I have now renamed that hill “Expletive Hill”, because everyone running up it was shouting out all kinds of colorful words. I ducked down into a steep hiking pose and “ran” (very loose term) up that hill that seemed to reach into the sky. My legs were burning more than I’ve ever felt them before. I didn’t walk. I didn’t stop. I did, however, feel like I was going to throw up. I swallowed hard a few times and kept going. It finally evened out and we turned and there it was: The Finish Line. Thankfully, it was a slight downhill. But my quads burned by having to “put on the brakes” a little bit. I crossed the finish line, stopped my watch, and saw “4:00:45”.
Immediately, my phone was blowing up. Everyone who was following me saw that I had finished and I felt it vibrating like crazy. I pulled it out and it said that it was disabled for 15 minutes. Stupid belt was hitting something causing it to lock out. So I could feel people talking to me, but had no access into my phone. I slowly, and carefully, made my way through the finish chute. Wrapped up in an aluminum blanket, was awarded a sweet medal, grabbed a banana, water, and a grocery bag full of good protein foods. I felt my phone vibrate longer than usual and it was a phone call from Deb – my coach who has been with me every single step of this journey. Apparently, I couldn’t get into my phone but could access calls. I answered and my first statement was, “I didn’t do it. I’m so sorry.” I honestly don’t remember the rest of our conversation – the brain must shut off after you’ve completed a run. I heard her say she was so proud of me and that we’d talk about the details later. Then Callie called and we were trying to figure out how to meet up. As I was walking away from the chute, I came upon stairs. “Callie. There are stairs here.” She laughed. Me and the other runners just stopped and stared at them, trying to look around for another way. Very painfully, we made our way down the steps placing both feet on the platforms before moving forward. I called Callie back and told her where I was and that I was going to wait for her. She came around the corner and I could finally celebrate the finish with someone. She hugged me tight and we celebrated the end!
She grabbed two ice packs, knelt down, and held them up to my quads. That was heavenly. I told her I just needed a minute to sit down. We plopped on the grass right there. I placed the ice on my quads and calves, and she handed me the recovery drink I asked her to bring. I chugged two whole bottles of water there and my drink. I curled my legs under me and bent my back forward. That felt awesome. She told me she had connected with Celeste, a friend of mine from Indiana, and that they wanted to meet up. I took off my belt and gear, threw on a newly purchased Chicago marathon pullover, and stood up. My legs felt so much better then and I was able to walk without much of a limp. We walked over and found Celeste, Lily, and Brooke and hung out with them for a while. I kept walking around so I wouldn’t get stiff. I found a Kashi tent where they were passing out their protein packed cereal. I grabbed a bowl and ate it, even though I wasn’t even slightly hungry. I also ate a banana. Callie grabbed all of my stuff, wouldn’t let me carry anything, grabbed my hand, and we walked over to the Cloud Gate (“The Bean”) for some medal pictures. Took a few snapshots there, made our way back to the Pink line, back to the hotel for a shower which revealed all of the lovely places I had chaffed, into compression socks and in the bed for some down time of watching 30 Rock and a nap.
We got up later and went to dinner at a local Italian place, where we split a dish of their homemade pasta with amazing vodka sauce with crumbled sausage in it. I ate an incredible amount. Callie kept asking how I was feeling and kept saying I looked exhausted. I was, but I was thrilled at what I had accomplished.
I didn’t meet my time goal I had put out for myself. I didn’t sub 4. My official time was 4:01:16. A lot of things could have affected that. My bathroom stop, my watch not cooperating more than half of the race, or the fact that the course was longer than 26.2 miles (my watch read 26.84). But I’ve got another one in 4 weeks. After a few rest days with shakeout runs and rides, I’m getting back out into training hard and I’m going after sub 4 again! I’m not going to stop until I get it. BUT I DID run that entire course without stopping or slowing to a walk. I DID shave 11 minutes off of my previous marathon time. I DID bust my butt on my training; never missed a work out! I’ve come a long way…and I’ve got miles to go.
It was such an incredible experience to run this race in such a beautiful city. Chicago Marathon is one of the top 6 World Marathons and it’s easy to see why. The support from the city leading up to it, the huge expo, the crowd support, the organization, the flat course, the finish line production… If you ever get a chance to run that event, do it. I don’t think I’ll do it again. It’s quite expensive. But I had a BLAST and I think I’m still on a runner’s high. I will have these memories to last a lifetime. Never would I have imagined that when Callie and I were hunkered down on my couch during finals week, studying our guts out in 2007 (or drawing science and music symbols on each other’s feet), that we’d both be in Chicago 7 years later and I’d be running a marathon. Incredible. I am so thankful for her and her amazing support during this journey and especially during the weekend. She was constantly asking how my legs were feeling and how I was doing leading up to the race, then held my hand and helped me navigate the crowds and carried all of my items after the race, and was checking on me as we were flying home as well. I needed all of that and I’m so thankful I have a friend like her to be there for me.
So now I’m resting and recovering. Today my legs have felt great; still a little sore when I bend down, or go from standing to sitting and vice versa, but they are getting better. I hope to run this weekend. I’ve got work to do. Watch out, sub 4. I’m coming for ya!
Next up: Rock N Roll Savannah Marathon in November!
and miles to go before I sleep... 