Post-Marathon Musings, Part III - Post race…

What an experience.  I did all the things they say you should do post-marathon – drank chocolate milk (my favorite!), iced my legs, rested, took ibuprofen and ate ice cream (that last one is my personal addition to the list.)  I was a little sore on Sunday, less sore on Monday.  I took walks both days and by Tuesday felt back to normal.  As normal as one can be, I guess, after such a phenomenal experience. 

What a blessing to be able to review my goals… 

 1) to finish the marathon  (check);

2) to finish on my own two feet and NOT riding the sweeper bus  (check);  and

3) to raise at least $4000 ($2000.00 for the National Hospice Foundation, $1000.00 for the Regional Hospice Program in Hayward, Wisconsin - the folks who helped us care for my mom, and $1000.00 for the Deaf Hospice Program in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, a program that provides hospice support to Deaf patients and family members.) (check and still in progress.  The fundraising site will remain open through June, for anyone who would still like to donate to these amazing programs. ) http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun

I am grateful beyond words for all of the encouragement, support and love you all have generously given me.  Thank you.  I am deeply touched and will carry that with me always.    

Love, Paula

Post-Marathon Musings, Part II The Big Day!

I’m normally a “hit the snooze a couple times” kind of gal, but not today.  I was up and out of bed at 4:15 am, as excited as I could be that early in the morning.  While I had the option of riding a shuttle bus from the UW directly to the start line in Two Harbors, I decided to drive to the DECC and take the train.  Along with the shuttle buses, there is a train that takes up to 600 runners to that marathon starting line.  I got there in time to find a seat on the train, sitting in a quad with three other women I had never met before.  We started with small talk – for two of us, this was our first marathon.  Two were from Washington state, one who had recently moved to Shakopee.  Through the course of our conversation, I discovered  that the other first-time marathoner happens to live in Jefferson, Wisconsin, and knows several old college friends of mine who I haven’t seen in years.  Small world!  I excused myself and walked to the other train car to use the bathroom, overhearing along the way bits and pieces of running experiences, strategies and advise being shared among the riders.   Laughter was flowing freely, as were bottles of Gatorade, peanut butter sandwiches and other last minute fuel sources.  In the midst of it all were sleeping runners, and those simply gazing out the window, lost in their own thoughts.  I took a moment to appreciate the moment and this eclectic collection of people about to embark on this monumental task.  I quietly wished us all well…

The train was slow, so we arrived at 7 am, just 45 minutes before the start.  The atmosphere was electrifying – music blasting, runners everywhere, and what looked like miles and miles of porta-pottys.  Holy moly – I have never seen so many in one place in my life.  Not that I was complaining.  Just in awe.  Porta-potty awe.  And even with bazillions of them available, there were still lines.  Of course.  I was glad I used the bathroom on the train. 

I made my way the center of the gathering area and looked in the sea of faces for Cari and others I knew were running.  I didn’t see any of them.  I took 3 ibuprofen, adjusted my water belt and took out my mile list.  I had folded it so the first 13 miles were on one side, the last 13 on the other.  It was printed on regular paper but I placed it in a baggie because I knew I would want to write in last minute names and I wanted to protect the names from smearing from my sweat.  As I looked at it with my 48-year old eyes, I wished for a moment that I had printed it in just a bit bigger font.  Oh well… I just held it out further and all was good.  There were mom and dad, ready to start mile one with me.  I smiled, looked to the sunny sky and thanked them for all they have been in my life.  Before I knew it, the announcement to enter the starting area was made.  I went to the road and hovered around the 4:30 (hour) pace runner.  (I never saw her again, so am not sure when she passed me.  I guess is was just comforting to know I was in the neighborhood, even for a short time.)  Despite being crammed in the midst of these thousands of runners, this introvert felt peace.  I was ready.  I was excited.  I wanted to get going.  A person started to sing the National Anthem and two runners in front of me who were holding American flags raised them high.  The back of their shirts said something about running to remember veterans.  Clearly this race was one of deeper meaning for them too.  I held it together for about half of the anthem until two fighter jets flew over us.  Tears started to flow down my cheeks.  I felt blessed.

I didn’t hear a starting gun, but the masses moved forward and started to cheer, so I figured it was time to go.  It took me about 5 minutes before I got to the starting line at which time I made sure I stepped solidly on the pads to start my chip, and off I went. 

Things that made me smile and even laugh out loud…

• The great spectators.  The little kids holding their hands out to give the runners “high-fives!”  My friend and colleague Julie Kaatz Hample and her beautiful family at between mile 13 – 14!  All of the smiling faces, encouraging shouts and funny signs…
• The signs!  My family made beautiful signs, including “Run Paula Run” and other wonderful sentiments.  Those are my  most favorite signs, but here are a few other random favorites I saw along the route –
• Three signs in a row.  1)  “Where are the marching bands?”  2)  “We need more floats”        3)  “This parade sucks!”
• “Your training lasted longer than Kim Kardashian’s marriage.”  (I couldn’t help but think that my long runs lasted longer than her marriage!)
• “Run faster – I farted”
• One that made me laugh out loud -   “Humpty Dumpty had wall issues too!”
• There was a group of Elvis impersonators cheering the runners along, some more successful in their impersonations than others, but all were appreciated!
• The bands.  There were several bands along the route, again some more successful than others but again, all were appreciated.  I liked the tuba player, and my favorite was the ZZ Top-like band playing “Sharp Dressed Man” in front of an old gas station.   
• I noticed a sign that said “Obama and Romney – why can’t we be friends.”  I didn’t understand what that meant, until I saw two guys standing next to each other – one in a suit and Obama mask, next to him was a guy wearing a Romney mask.  Kinda freaky but I waved anyway.
• The woman at mile 16 or 17 (?) standing in the middle of the road holding a big bucket of dum-dum suckers.  She was handing them out to the runners and I took one, unwrapped it, and went on my way.  It tasted great and provided a welcomed pop of energy.  I ran only a few yards before I heard a voice in my head saying “what are you doing, running with a sucker in your mouth?!?”  (Was that the voice of my mom, maybe??)  At any rate, I bit down hard, trying to break the sucker off the stick.  Then I wondered, in all of the defibrillators and medical care teams I heard about at each mile, if there was an emergency dentist on the ready too…  Thankfully I didn’t need any of that medical care, including the dentist.  Whew!
• A guy shaking his i-phone, shouting “it’s a cow bell app!”  (Who knew!?!?)

My mile list…

1)                  Mom and Dad, Joanne and Louie

2)                  Grandmas and Grandpas Gregerson and Gajewski

3)                  All beloved family members

4)                  Roger Mickelson

5)                  Gene Averill

6)                  Lee Perish; Martee and Larry Swabey (Laurie’s mom and dad)

7)                  Jackie Gravrok’s mom and dad

8)                  Mary Catherine’s dad;

9)                  Cindy Norton’s dad, Ed Gundaker; Janet Anderson (Heidi’s mom)

10)               Jan Radatz’s beloved family members

11)               Freida and Lenard Bauch (Julie’s  tenacious German in laws J)

12)               Marie Wigern (Laurie Meyer’s mom); Jill (Laura P)

13)               Richard’s dad, Clement; A.J. McFarlin (Nancy’s mom)

14)               Arlene Hillmer, Lisa and Sue’s mom

15)               Lana Phan, Steve’s mom

16)               Alyce Roberts, Lauri’s mom

17)               Ella Mae Zylstra, Sara’s grandma; Larry Sanford (Mari’s dad)

18)               Russ Connors

19)               David Boris; Ed and Donna Robinson (Joanie’s parents)

20)               Don and Marie Mortwedt (Kathy Hanson’s parents);  Memory Keepers (Tia); Eileen Hammond (Joan)

21)               Stacey’s grandma, Richard and mom;  Rollin Swanson;   Mervin Nelson (Pam’s dad)

22)               Michael Finken

23)               Ceil Mickelson

24)               Honor of all Hospice Volunteers, including my sister, Sue

25)               Honor of the Deaf Hospice Program, especially Anita Buel

26)               Mom and dad, Joanne and Louie

.2 – YOU!

Each mile of the marathon was well marked with huge yellow helium balloons on the end of long colorful ropes.   Many mile markers, especially the later ones, also had aid stations with volunteers handing out water, Powerade, and later ice cubes and cold, refreshing sponges.  After walking through the station taking whatever I needed, I pulled my list out and read the names of the people joining me on the next mile.  My routine was to call back memories of them - times we spoke, things we did together - and to thank them for the lasting presence they have in my life, either personally or through their loved ones.  For those who I didn’t know personally, I recalled their family member(s) who asked me to remember them.  I thought about the amazing impact their loved one has had in my life as a treasured colleague and friend.   And at the end of the mile, I thanked them for their part in bringing such amazing human beings into my life.

There were some miles when I needed to call upon my mile-partner a bit more.  For instance, at mile 14 I got a side-stitch.  Despite my efforts to breathe rhythmically and through it, it wasn’t working.  So I asked for assistance from Arlene, mom of my dear friends Sue and Lisa.  Just two years ago, Arlene fought cancer mightily until it ended her life in October, 2010.  I recalled her strength and fight, and asked her to share that with me through the stitch.   She did and it worked. 

I strategically placed Russ, David, Michael and Ceil on the book-end miles of “the wall,” knowing I’d need extra energy at that time in the run.  Each of these people, like so many on the list, fought cancer with strength and grace, and were taken from their loved ones far too soon.  They left behind so many people who miss them terribly and love them even more.  Those were the thoughts that pulled me through those miles…  Those thoughts, and Miss B.

“The Wall…”

My niece Brady is a Runner (note the capital “R”) and has run several marathons.  Knowing the process, she offered to run a few miles with me.  Brady, her mom Becky and sister Brooke set up their cheering station at mile 23, so Brady tracked my progress and ran back to meet me at mile 19 so we could run a few miles together.  What a blessing.  Brady, with a smile on her face, matched my pace (which must have felt like a crawl to her), talked to me and shared her infectious energy with me during the infamous “wall” miles.  Her presence, plus those on my list at each mile during this time, pulled me forward.  I tried not to be rude as I pulled out my list and ran silently several times as we were together, but she understood.  She ran with me over Lemon Drop Hill, and then we saw Becky and Brooke, yelling and waving their “Run Paula Run” sign.  What a shot of energy!  I made a quick stop for hugs, thanked Brady with a high-five, and went on my way.   I feel incredibly fortunate that “the wall” for me, that day in that moment in time, wasn’t much of a wall at all. I am not discounting the experience for others, nor do I think that I would be as fortunate during another race.  My theory is that the combination of my training PLUS all the wonderful people supporting me from near and far, all those on my list, and Brady pulled me through any wall that was meant to be there for me that day.    I am thankful!

Finish strong...

At the beginning of the race, the mile markers seemed to come quicker than those toward the end.  But these miles were downtown Duluth, where the crowds were thicker and more vocal (could there be a correlation between the volume of the cheers and the beers in hand?  Perhaps…) That helped.  My friend Holly was working the station at mile 24, so she walked a bit with me while I drank my water and Powerade, which was fun.  I gave her a high-five and went on my way.  Running downtown is tough.  The street is brick and I felt compelled to watch the ground more closely, thinking it would not be too cool to trip and fall so close to the end.  It would certainly suck to fall down and not be able to get up!  J  So I watched the ground carefully and before I knew it, I was making the turn toward Canal Park, my final mile.

By this time I was really feeling the fatigue.  I ran down the hill, up a small incline, then down again toward the lake.  And just as I let out a deep breath, there was my brother-in-law, Mike, shouting “hey, Paula!!!”  I ran toward him for a high-five and saw Molly, who joined me for the final mile.  What a blessing!  We were running along the ship (which, I understand, many runners curse mightily because it is a very big reminder that they are oh, so close to the finish, but not quite close enough.)   I totally understood that sentiment, and let out a huge sigh.  Ugh….  Molly asked me what was wrong – I just shook my head.  Then some random runner came up behind me and said “finish strong!”  I looked him in the eyes and knew he knew what that sigh meant.  I just said “okay” and continued on. 

As we approached the corner, Molly kept saying “you’re so close” and “the family is just around the corner – on the right.”  I was so looking forward to seeing them!  We came around the corner, I combed the crowd and THERE THEY WERE!  Paul (with the camera), Jake, my sister Sue and niece Jenna, my sister-in-law Jill and my nieces Gretchen and Emily, and nephew Nate, and Mike (I’m not sure how he got back there so fast!)  I waved and hollered, gave each of them a high-five, and headed toward the finish.   I made sure to step firmly on each pad to record my chip.  The race was done.   

Post-Marathon Musings, Part I The Day Before...

Well, the marathon is over.   I survived and am here to tell the tale!  Actually, I am basking in a post-marathon glow.  What an amazing, emotional, joy-filled, challenging experience!  Before the marathon, I had planned to write one more blog post as a cumulative reflection on this entire process.  I’ve changed my mind.   I want to write these first – just some random reflections on the marathon itself, to capture them here and share.  They may or may not be of interest, but this experience is one that has been so amazing, I just don’t want to forget anything!  So here are some thoughts and memories of the before, during and after… 

The day before…

I drove to Duluth Friday afternoon with the pit in my stomach that had been with me for days.  Probably nerves.  Excitement.  Apprehension.  Doubt.  Whatever it was, it was there.  The trip north was uneventful – radio station hopping and a pit stop in Hinkley were the highlights.  Road construction was a-plenty along the way, so I decided to follow the directions I had and headed to the UW in Superior first to check into my dorm room before going to the Marathon Expo at the DECC (Duluth Entertainment Convention Center.)

 I stayed in Ostrander Hall at the UW campus on Friday night.  It was a reasonable option compared to others and I could stay there one night as opposed to the required 2 and 3-night minimum of other lodging options.  I know I could have asked to crash on any number of friends’ and family members’ couches, but I really needed to have my own space.  I knew I’d need to be by myself that night so the UW was a great option.  I was checked in by student workers who were friendly, helpful and very welcoming.  I love the “feel” of college campuses and that, plus these great young people helped take the edge off that pit in my stomach.    After moving my things into my room, I headed to the DECC.

As expected, the energy at the DECC was palpable.  There were hundreds of people milling around, carbo-loading at the Michelinas Spaghetti feed, taking in the great freebies and shopping at the booths of the running expo, and picking up racing packets.  It was great.  I got my running packet first, checked the chip to make sure it worked (it did) and headed off to the booths.  I knew I wanted to get the official Grandma’s Marathon poster, a shirt, and whatever marathon chachki caught my eye.   I found the poster and shirt, and also bought a couple magnets for my car, stickers and a little bling for my running shoes.  A plastic rain ponch got my attention at one booth.  There was a chance of rain in the morning and for $3.00 I could have a disposable poncho to keep me dry prior to the race if needed.  Seemed like a good investment to make so I approached the woman at the booth to make my purchase.  As we made small talk, she asked “are you running tomorrow?”   “Yes.”  “The half?”  “No, the full marathon” I replied.  “It’s my first.  A bucket list thing.”  She got a big grin on her face and said “Congratulations!”  Shaking her head, she added “Welcome to the slippery slope.”  I laughed and assured her it was a one-and-done sort of event.  She added that she had just celebrated her 72^nd birthday and finished her 50^th marathon  - the Hatfield and McCoy Marathon in Kentucky.  I congratulated her and asked how long she had been running.  “30 years.”  If you do the math, that means she started running marathons at 42.  It didn’t appear that she had plans to retire any time soon.  Even though I didn’t end up using the poncho, it was worth the purchase and meeting Bonnie.  What a cool woman.

After an hour or so I had my fill of the crowd and was getting hungry, so I found a place for my own carbo-loading, then headed back to the UW to settle in.   After getting myself organized I checked e-mail and Facebook one last time and found countless messages of encouragement and good wishes, including a couple more donation confirmations – I had surpassed my fundraising goal!  There were a couple more names to add to my mile list, which I wrote in, and decided it was time to hit the hay.   I opened my door to make a last trip to the bathroom and standing there, ready to knock on my door, was a former student of mine – Cari!  It was so fun to see her – we shared stories of excitement and nervousness, and said we’d look for each other at the start the next day.  We hugged and wished the other well for a good night’s sleep and the race in the morning. 

The pit in my stomach was still there, but not so prevalent.  I set my alarm for 4:15 am, turned the lights out just before 10 pm, and surprisingly, fell fast asleep.

Marathon of Memories, updated list

Here is my most updated list for the race on Saturday.  Thought you might like to see it.  If there are any more additions yet tonight or in the morning before I leave, I will hand write them on my paper.  It's in my pouch, in a plastic bag because I know my sweat will make the ink on the paper run!  :-)

Thank you all again for your support and encouragement!  

Paula

Mile –

1)                  Mom and Dad, Joanne and Louie

2)                  Grandmas and Grandpas Gregerson and Gajewski

3)                  All beloved family members

4)                  Roger Mickelson

5)                  Gene Averill

6)                  Lee Perish; Martee and Larry Swabey (Laurie’s mom and dad)

7)                  Jackie Gravrok’s mom and dad

8)                  Mary Catherine’s dad

9)                  Cindy Norton’s dad, Ed Gundaker

10)               Jan Radatz’s beloved family members

11)               Freida and Lenard Bauch (Julie’s tenacious German in laws J)

12)               Marie Wigern (Laurie Meyer’s mom)

13)               Richard’s dad, Clement; A.J. McFarlin (Nancy’s mom)

14)               Arlene Hillmer, Lisa and Sue’s mom

15)               Lana Phan, Steve’s mom

16)               Alyce Roberts, Lauri’s mom

17)               Ella Mae Zylstra, Sara’s grandma

18)               Russ Connors

19)               David Boris; Ed and Donna Robinson (Joanie’s parents)

20)               Don and Marie Mortwedt (Kathy Hanson’s parents);  Memory Keepers (Tia)

21)               Stacey’s grandma, Richard and mom;  Rollin Swanson

22)               Michael Finken

23)               Ceil Mickelson

24)               Honor of all Hospice Volunteers, including my sister, Sue

25)               Honor of the Deaf Hospice Program, especially Anita Buel

26)               Mom and dad, Joanne and Louie

.2 – YOU!

Marathon of Memories

Here we go… the countdown to the race.  Four days and counting… I can’t believe it’s almost here!  This will likely be my last blog post before the race.  But come back again next week - I will most definitely post something after the race as well! 

First, an update on how training is going.  It’s going!   As I’ve tapered this past week, I have experienced what I have come to realize are common feelings of nervousness, self-doubt, and worry that I haven’t quite done enough.  Am I really ready for this?  Yes, as ready as I’m going to be.  I’ve been reading books, articles in magazines and have talked to experienced runners who have told me it’s common to feel this way, especially for a first time marathon.  As I’ve considered my mixed bag of feelings in light of what I’m reading and getting from people, I’ve realized I need to trust the process.  Trust that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.  And this will all work out.  (For any former or current students, this “trust the process” is a familiar phrase that you’ve heard me say til I’m blue in the face.  I imagine you are undoubtedly experiencing a bit of pleasure, knowing that I have to heed my own advice on this one!) 

Last week was a bit rocky as I had a cough of some sort starting.  I tried to ignore it for a day or so, then decided to head to the doctor.  I normally would ride this stuff out (I’m not much of a medicine gal), but my friend Suzanne had her marathon training derailed by a bout of bronchitis that was diagnosed a week before the Fargo marathon.  UGH!  She had to delay her marathon plans, which was a huge disappointment for her, but she’s been a trooper.  Her experience was fresh enough for me that I high-tailed it to the doctor for my own raspy cough.  The doctor gave me an antibiotic, which I’ve been taking faithfully.  It seems to have helped and is clearing up nicely.  Whew!

In addition to these thoughts on the training, I am also overwhelmed at times with emotion about this journey.  I think back to 10 years ago this month, and the mixed emotions of the time, caring for mom in her final weeks while preparing for Jim and Erica’s wedding.  I think about my own development as a runner, which was not even on the radar 10 years ago.  Add to this mix of emotions the overwhelming support and love I’ve experienced from dear family and friends, and those who I don’t know well but who have a runner’s heart and “get it.”  I am definitely ready for this race.  And if nothing else, the positive energy and prayers of all of you will carry me through the experience.  Thank you!

  

As I think about Saturday’s race, I’ve been collecting words of advice and strategies –

1)           Start the race slow.  This seems like a no-brainer, but I understand it’s easy to get caught up in the spirit of the atmosphere, start out too fast, and hit the wall like a ton of bricks.  So I’m going to try to line up between the 4:30 and 5:00 pacers and stick there as much as I can.  I may end up slower than that.  Remember, my goal is to finish and not ride the sweeper bus.  As long as I finish in less than 7 hours and there are people behind me (at least a couple), I’m good.

2)           Drink water or liquids at every station.  Hydration is the key.

3)           Be present.  But not too present – especially when my legs start to feel heavy!  I really want to enjoy this journey.  People tell me that the training for a marathon is the hardest part.  I believe them – I definitely want to be finished with all this.  I’m tired!  But I also want to enjoy the atmosphere, the camaraderie and the scenery.

4)           Be mindful of the amazing people who are supporting me.  I am truly blessed and in awe of the support I have had during this journey.  The kind words of encouragement and sentiments have been so wonderful.  I have printed several and will read those again on Friday night.

5)           Remember the wonderful people many of my friends and family members have asked me to remember on this run.  All of them are dear and sorely missed.  I have created a list below.   (Most have passed away;  the note “in honor of” recognizes people currently working hard in hospice programs.)  If any of you donated and forgot to mention someone, send me their name and I’ll add them to my list.  Any others mentioned in donations through Thursday afternoon will be added here too.  (I’ll double up people on some miles – I don’t intend to run any additional miles than the ones listed below!)  I will carry this list with me on Saturday, and refer to it at each mile marker, remembering the person(s) listed for that mile. 

It is with a humble, grateful heart that I will carry these people with me on Saturday…

Mile –

1)                  Mom and Dad, Joanne and Louie

2)                  Grandmas and Grandpas Gregerson and Gajewski

3)                  All beloved family members

4)                  Roger Mickelson

5)                  Gene Averill

6)                  Lee Perish

7)                  Jackie Gravrok’s mom and dad

8)                  Mary Catherine’s dad

9)                  Cindy Norton’s dad, Ed Gundaker

10)               Jan Radatz’s beloved family members

11)               Freida Bauch (Julie)

12)               Marie Wigern (Laurie Meyer’s mom)

13)               Richard’s dad, Clement

14)               Arlene Hillmer, Lisa and Sue’s mom

15)               Lana Phan, Steve’s mom

16)               Alyce Roberts, Lauri’s mom

17)               Ella Mae Zylstra, Sara’s grandma

18)               Russ Connors

19)               David Boris

20)               Kathy Hanson’s mom

21)               Stacey’s grandma, Richard and mom

22)               Michael Finken

23)               Ceil Mickelson

24)               Honor of all Hospice Volunteers, including my sister, Sue

25)               Honor of the Deaf Hospice Program, especially Anita Buel

26)               Mom and dad, Joanne and Louie

.2 – YOU!

If you’d like to make a donation and add someone to the list, please go to:  http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun

Thank you!

Irony

Irony:  an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.  (www.dictionary.com)

It’s Saturday evening, June 2, 2012.  I completed my last long run this morning (18 miles) and have officially started “the taper.”   Grandma’s Marathon is two weeks from today.  Do you remember the hyperventilating I mentioned in my first couple of posts?  Interestingly, I’m not joking about hyperventilating anymore.  My training has been going well, and even though my run this morning wasn’t my best, I feel ready.  Well, as ready as I’m going to be.  I don’t know if I would ever feel READY ready.   It’s not ironic that I feel ready, given the training I’ve been doing.  But it is absolutely ironic that I’m actually getting excited about running a marathon, especially when I think about my turbulent running history.  For me, preparing for a marathon and feeling eager to run it is irony at its finest. 

This irony really surfaced for me the other night when Molly, Jake and I were talking at dinner about the presidential fitness challenge.  Do you remember doing that stuff back in school?  I just looked on line and found that the presidential fitness challenge started in 1972.  I was 9 years old at the time, and not an athletic kid at all. As a matter of fact, I was a pretty chubby, non-athletic kid who grew up to be a pretty chubby, non-athletic adult.  As a kid, I held my own on many a summer night playing Kick the Can, and could be found at the skating rink down the street most winter Saturdays, but I was not crazy about playing sports.  As a result, I don’t have fond memories of anything athletic, especially those annual fitness tests.  The thing that surprised me about my discussion with Molly and Jake was that neither one of them have very fond memories of those tests either.  I was surprised because both of them are good athletes and do well on the tests, yet they still aren’t crazy about them, especially, as I discovered, the sit-ups and the static arm hang.  I remember doing each of those tests, but told them that the test I hated the most was the running test.  We had to run a mile, which was 4 laps around the track, and one year the number of laps we completed was directly tied to our grade for PE.  If we ran 4 laps, we got an A, 3 laps was a B, 2 was a C, etc...   That year I was determined not to fail, so my friend Stacey and I decided we were going to do some extra “training” for the test.   Several mornings a week, I would walk to Stacey’s house at 5:15 am and the two of us would go up to the track and run.  (It’s funny because there are days now when I run that the smell of the cool, damp morning takes my mind back to those mornings running with Stacey.)   I ran 3 laps that year for a B – I remember thinking I could have run 4, but I hated running so much that the B was good enough.  We laughed at the irony in my story.  As a kid I couldn’t stand running and here I am training for a marathon.  Weird.

When I decided to sign up for Grandma’s this year and dedicate the run to raising $4000.00 for the National Hospice Foundation, the Regional Hospice Program in Hayward and the Deaf Hospice Program,  I knew this was an aggressive goal.  I was most nervous about the physical challenge of running a marathon.  I know many people have done it, but not me.  I knew the physical challenge would be like none I had ever known (aside from childbirth, perhaps??)   I worried about being able to do this, being able to finish a 26.2 mile race.  After all, who in their right mind does something like this?  That’s why there was over a month between the time I registered for the race and made arrangements to do the fundraiser.  Then I waited a bit longer to make all this public.  Each pause in the process gave me time to clarify my resolve.  My biggest worry at the time was that I would fail and wouldn’t finish the race.   So I focused my energies on the marathon training, not giving the fundraising part of the goal much thought.  It started out strong and I guess I took my “Girl Scout Cookie” approach, figuring the cause was one that many people could get behind and it would, in essence, sell itself.  Now I’m two weeks out from the marathon and my worry has shifted from finishing the race to meeting my fundraising goal.  Boy, isn’t THAT ironic!

So, I’m kicking into gear and casting my fundraising net far and wide.  (Warning:  here comes my shameless plug.)   If you have already made a donation, THANK YOU!  If you haven’t yet, will you please consider it?  Every amount helps.  There are lots of benefits to making a donation - here are a few:

1.       It’s tax deductible!  Why wait until the end of the year to squeeze in all those deductions?  Here is a great opportunity to start those deductions now!

2.       It’s a worthy cause.  Hospice programs across the country make such a difference in the lives of people who are in the end stages of their lives here on earth, as well as the lives of their family and friends.  The volunteers and staff of the Regional Hospice Program made a lasting impression on my family and me;  those involved with the Deaf Hospice Program do the same for Deaf and hard of hearing family members and friends.  Please consider making a donation to these efforts – your donation will make a difference at the national and local levels. 

3.       Everyone who makes a donation has an opportunity to dedicate their donation in honor or memory of someone special.  The week before Grandma’s, I will make a marathon dedication list that I will carry with me during the race.  Miles 1 and 26 will be dedicated to my mom and dad; miles 2 – 25 will each list a name or names of donors’ loved ones.   My plan is to refer to the list at each mile marker, and carry the memory and spirit of each of these people with me for “their” mile.  I look forward to sharing this race with you and them in this way.  Wouldn’t you like to dedicate a mile to a loved one?  If you identify a specific mile you’d like your loved one listed on, please note that when you type their name in the “in memory of” field on the donation page. 

It IS ironic that I am terribly uncomfortable doing any sort of fundraising yet here I am,  pulling out my best strategies to raise the remaining money to reach my goal by race day.    

If you are in a position to help financially, please consider donating.  If you can’t, I do understand.  In lieu of a financial donation (or in addition to a financial donation), please consider keeping me in your thoughts and prayers during the next two weeks, especially on June 16^th.  That day, please send some extra positive energy north… aiming for the space between Two Harbors and Duluth, MN between the hours of 7:30 am – 12:30 pm.  J  Thank you so much for your support!

To donate on-line:

Please go to:  http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun

To donate by check:

Make your check payable to the National Hospice Foundation

Be sure to write on the memo line “RTR/Paula Mickelson/Grandma’s Marathon.”

Mail the checks to: National Hospice Foundation

                             P.O. Box 824401

                             Philadelphia, PA 19182-4401

It's All in Your Head....

Before I get to the topic of this post, let me give you a brief update on my training.  It’s going!  Since my last post, I completed my longest run to date – 20.6 miles – and lived to tell the tale!  I didn't break any land-speed records, and there were walks along the way and a stop or two in parks to replenish water.  But I finished it, and finished feeling like I had a bit left in the tank.  This past Saturday’s run was 14.5 miles, a shorty by some measures, but it was challenging none-the-less because the temps were warm again.  But I finished that too, and it wasn't bad.  I have a few weeks of training left, with speed work, a couple more long runs and a few more blog posts in me, then the big day! 

Shortly after I wrote my “Strength in Humility” post that included my experience with that crappy run, one of my students asked me how my marathon training was going.  This student is an amazing young woman (as they all are at St. Kate’s!) who is a student athlete and member of our Wildcats hockey team.  We’ve talked many times about the hockey team and women’s athletics; I love her enthusiasm for sports.   As we talked, she mentioned reading my blog and the tough run, and declared in a very matter-of-fact manner “you know it’s all in your head.”   I chuckled and nodded, although I don’t know that I was totally convinced.  Thinking back about that run, I don’t recall anything in my head that was going to help the pain in my legs at the time!   Since that conversation, however, I’ve had some time to consider the truth in her statement and have noted several examples of how “it’s all in your head” manifests in running and in life. 

It seems, as I’ve come to find out, that most (all?) runners who train for a marathon have at least one of “those” runs.  As a matter of fact, when I mentioned my experience to a colleague who has run several marathons, her immediate response was “so you got THAT out of the way,” implying that the crappy run is just a part of the training process.  Hills – check.  Speed work – check.  Crappy run that challenges your psyche, plays with your head and shakes your confidence enough to make you wonder if you can really do this – check.  Each of these elements of training have at one time or another caused me to wonder – am I going to throw in the towel and give up or will I dig deep and keep going?  As I understand it, this question will often creep into a marathoner’s head around mile 20, also known as “the wall” and affords the opportunity to reconsider the goal, recalibrate the resolve, and keep going (or catch a ride on the sweeper bus.) 

 “Tell me about your most challenging training run” I said to my friend Sarah shortly after “that” run, knowing she ran her first marathon just a couple years ago and would offer me some great insights and encouragement.  She didn’t miss a beat and launched into a story that described my experience exactly – the heat, the exhaustion, the lead-like legs, the feeling of doubt.   She then let me in on a little secret – a strategy she uses quite often:  running mantras.  She said that there are times when runs get hard, and during those times she uses mantras to help her get through.  My favorite of the ones she shared, the one that I’ve since used many times, is simple:

                Quiet mind…

                Quiet step…

                Quiet breath…

                Quiet met. 

 

It’s cool how this works… if I find myself breathing or stepping too loudly, which is often an indication that I’m exerting way too much energy, I simply repeat this mantra a few times and my breathing slows down… my feet seem lighter, and I’m good to go.  The funny thing is that I’ve not only used this while running, but find it quite helpful when stress levels heighten at work and I need to recalibrate my energies and focus.  Quiet mind… Quiet step… Quiet breath… Quiet met.   A runner’s prayer…

While mantras are a relatively new strategy for me, prayer is not. Truth be told, I start every run with a prayer of gratitude.  It’s hard not to be grateful when sunrises are so spectacular, cool breezes are  refreshing,  lilacs smell so amazing, and I have good health, challenging work and wonderful family and friends that bless my life each and every day.  Time at the beginning of a run spent in gratitude is time well spent.   While my muscles are warming up and body still creaking a bit, prayer helps me refocus on something positive – a recalibration of sorts so that I can begin my run from a stronger place. 

This recalibration reminds me of another time in my life when shifting thoughts and prayers served me well.  That time was 10 years ago when my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  I remember very clearly my progression of prayer.  My first prayers, as hard as this is to admit, included a simple request:  “Please let the doctor be wrong.”  Selfish, maybe, but I so wanted her to be wrong – I prayed that what she found was something that was an easy fix or something not as serious as the cancer she diagnosed.  When we went to Mayo for a second opinion and a battery of tests confirmed the doctor was right, my prayer shifted to “Please let the experimental treatment work and give mom more time with us.”  It didn’t – she didn’t experience the results we hoped for and the side effects compromised her quality of life far more than the treatment helped.  When she decided to stop treatment and begin hospice, my prayers shifted again, this time to something much simpler:  a prayer for patience and strength.  That’s all:  patience and strength.   I asked for this daily, sometimes more often than that.  Patience and strength, not only for me, as I helped care for mom and tried to balance family and work demands, but also patience and strength for Paul and the kids, for family and friends, and most of all, for my mom.  This prayer offered a sense of comfort, calm and confidence during a time of great uncertainty.  It helped me through the most challenging time of my life.  As a result, this prayer for patience and strength has become a staple for me.  A life mantra, if you will.

“It’s all in your head.” 

I see more truth in this statement now than I did earlier.   The “head work” - mantras, prayers and positive self-talk - make a huge difference in how I respond to a run, especially a long, difficult one.   This “head work” certainly makes a difference in how I respond to life, too.   That said, I can’t ignore or understate the important role ibuprofen also plays in this equation!  Just sayin...

P.S.  With this marathon goal is my goal to raise money for the National Hospice Foundation, which will split 50% of the money raised between the Regional Hospice Program in Hayward and the Deaf Hospice Program in Minnesota.  If you haven’t already donated and are in a position to do so, please do.  My donation page is found at:  http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun

Thank you!

Rain and wind and hills, Oh, My!

The forecast for this past Saturday, the day of my longest run to date - 18 miles - sounded much like the title of this post (ok,  I didn’t hear any of the weather people mention terrain, but they did talk about  wind,  rain and even snow.)  I wasn’t really concerned about the weather and temps; I actually prefer cold weather over heat (see my post from last week.)  I also believe there are many advantages to running in the weather we had on Saturday:  1) bragging rights, 2) warm beverages taste better, and 3) hot showers feel so much better after a run on a cold day (and I feel like I’ve earned the right to stay in the shower a bit longer too!)  

When I left the house at 6:15 am, it was 45 degrees and dry.  Perfect!  As I took off I figured the meteorologists were wrong once again, this time to my advantage.  Well, they were not wrong – during my 3+ hour run, I ran through sleet and rain and wind.  By the time I got home, the temperature had dropped to 36 degrees.  But it all worked out.  The weather kept me cool, and the hot shower felt oh, so good!

I didn’t always think about running in less-than-ideal conditions in this way.  My perspective is definitely an acquired taste.  When I look back through my journal, I chuckle at the notes I made my very first week running:  

Wednesday, April 30, 2008:  “Running class – fun. “  (That first night we walked 8 minutes, ran 2 minutes and repeated this set 3 times, for a total time of 30 minutes.)

Thursday, April 31, 2008:  “Walked and ran with Molly.  The wind was strong – but it was fun anyway.  Walked 5 minutes /ran 2 minutes.” 

Written in the margin across the next few days:  “Rain/wind… NO running here!”

It’s easy to let “bad” weather trump my good intentions.  On more than a few mornings I’ve heard the rain on the roof and been tempted to hit the snooze button one more time.  And I have!  I’ve also come to appreciate the cool, refreshing side of rain.  There are other times when the wind blows so hard in my face that it seems to turn my road run into an outdoor stint on a treadmill, blowing so hard it doesn’t seem like I am making any forward progress.  Then again, there is something to be said about turning a corner and being met by a perfectly timed breeze.   I think these shifts in perspective have been helpful and made me a stronger runner.

My perspective on hills has taken a bit longer to shift.  Before I started running, I don’t remember ever giving hills much thought, probably because I was primarily driving up them!   Traveling hills on my feet has in turn sharpened my focus on the terrain and I find myself making mental notes of those areas that present noteworthy changes in altitude.   It doesn’t take much – for me, any incline is noteworthy.  I don’t always avoid them, I can’t.  My strategy is simply to mentally prepare myself for them. 

So imagine my response when I got an e-mail a few weeks ago from Kim, our marathon clinic leader, when she announced we were starting hill training that night.   Ugh!  I hadn’t gotten to that chapter in my running books yet nor had a paid much attention to articles on hill training in Runner’s World magazine!  I had no idea what I was in for with this “hill training.”  I was so tempted to not show up, “call in sick,” or “call in well” and head to the Dairy Queen.  But I didn’t.  I went and listened intently as Kim told us all the virtues of hill training.  She sent us off to the hill, proclaiming “remember, hills are our friends.  We LOVE hills!”  I remember chuckling, then realizing that her inflection and the sparkle in her eye was no joke.   Kim truly believes this!   At the end of that first night of hills, I can’t honestly say that I made a fast friend in that hill, nor did I leave loving it.  But I ran what I needed to, plus one more for extra credit, and it wasn’t so bad.

Not long after that first night of hill training, a former student stopped by my office to say hello.  She is an amazing runner and when I told her we started hill training, she didn’t miss a beat and declared “I LOVE hills!”  I swear I saw the same sparkle in her eye that I saw in Kim’s eye! 

Last Sunday morning I ended up doing my weekly hill work on my own.   As I was running, I was thinking about the enthusiasm that Kim and Amanda have for this exercise that I didn’t quite “get.”  Then I realized that it was not fun running up the hill, but it felt really good jogging down.  I even noticed one of those cool, refreshing “breezes” on the way down.  I then recalled a comment another running friend made one time when describing a route I had not done before.  When I asked about the terrain, he said “there are a couple of hills, but you get them back.”   I realized at that moment that the “getting them back” feeling – the running down the hill, knowing I finished the toughest part – that is what I like about hills.

Note I did not say that is what I "love" about hills.  I like the running down part just fine.  Admittedly, I don't seek hills when I’m planning my runs, especially the long ones, but I’m not avoiding them either.  I’m really open to the notion that any adjustment of my perspective on hills, if there is an adjustment to be made, will take some time.    In the mean time, I will continue to make my way up hills, and relish the time “getting them back” on the other side.    Adding a cool breeze and refreshing sprinkle on the way down the hill may just speed up that adjustment process.  Maybe…      

Strength in Humility

Sorry it’s been a stretch since my last post.  I got off to a great start on this blog thing, then I blinked and it’s two weeks later.  I’ll try to get better about my updates on this journey to Grandma’s marathon.  Eight weeks to go… good grief, I’m starting to hyperventilate again!  (Just kidding… kinda…)

Rest assured, my training continues on course.  If nothing else, it is a humbling experience.  I’m a part of the marathon training clinic at the Running Room in Burnsville and continue to attend our weekly clinics.  Nevermind that I’m one of the oldest folks in the group.   They are all wonderful people and super encouraging.  They let me take this training on my own terms, especially as I take our leader’s advice to heart – “listen to your body.”  Sometimes my body is screaming bloody murder, but it’s only because it is wondering what the heck it’s doing, running up and down a hill 6 times in a row!  Yes, I’m even doing hill training.  Did I mention this is a humbling process?  I’ll write more about the hills later.  I want to explore this idea of humility a bit more for the moment.

Two weeks ago, my long run was 14.5 miles.  I started out that Saturday morning at 6:20 am, running to the Running Room in Burnsville to join the Saturday morning group for part of this run.  I stayed with the group for 5 miles, then went off on my own to finish up the rest of the miles.  It was a beautiful, cool morning and I felt pretty good.  I did miscalculate the distance though, and stopped running at 15 miles, which was still 1.5 miles from home.  I figured I’d just walk the rest of the way, a nice treat after such a good run.  But clouds rolled in and it started to rain.  I was getting chilled so decided to just finish the distance by running home.  So technically, a 16+ mile run.   It was longer than I was supposed to run, but I still felt good that day, and the next, so no harm done.  And truth be told, it was quite a confidence boost.  Nice!

The following week, kept with the program and had a good week.  I planned my next long run – 16 miles – for Saturday.  Given how it went the week before, I was feeling good.  I knew I could go the distance, based on the prior week’s run.   But there were a couple factors that I knew would be challenging.  I had a work commitment at St. Kate’s on this Saturday, so I brought my running gear with me to run after my presentation.  This meant that I didn’t get started running until about 11:45 am.  And instead of cool temps, the thermometer read 72 degrees when I started.  By the time I finished my 16 mile run that day, the temperature was in the mid-upper 80s, way too hot for this chick.  Needless to say, the run was awful.  By the time I hit 14 miles, I was breaking up the run into half mile segments… run a half mile, walk a minute, run a half mile, walk a minute… my legs felt like lead, my body was exhausted and worse yet, in my mind I felt totally defeated.  My only thought, besides hoping I made it back to the car, was “what the heck was I thinking, signing up for a marathon???”   Definitely a humbling experience. 

It took me a couple days to get my head back in the game, although I was still pretty leery when I got back to running on Monday.  It didn’t feel great and I ended up not going as far as I had planned.   Tuesday was the same… ugh.   I’m happy to say that by Wednesday, I felt better and got back out for a decent jaunt.  During that run, I started thinking about what a humbling experience this journey to the marathon has been so far.  And as I thought about that, was reminded of another journey where humility was a theme:  when we were working with hospice to care for my mom in her final weeks.  One of the lessons I learned from my mom during that time was that there is great strength in humility.

My mom was a very strong woman.  I remember when the doctor at Mayo met with my mom, my sister and I after the results of her tests came back and confirmed she did indeed have pancreatic cancer.  We asked how long mom had left and the doctor said, as doctors do, that it was hard to know.  But, he said, people with this sort of cancer normally have a few months, maybe six to nine.  My mom, without missing a beat, said “I guess I have some cleaning to do.”  No time to cry… we had cleaning to do.  And we did.  We got started cleaning her house the following Saturday. 

Mom did opt to try an experimental treatment for pancreatic cancer that seemed to have some positive results for patients, extending their lives by months, time they would not have normally had without the treatment.  When her results were not as positive and the negative side effects further compromised her health and adversely affected her quality of life, mom decided it was time to stop treatment and sign on with hospice.    She died just about 7 weeks later.  

As you can imagine, her health faded pretty quickly.  The hospice nurses were great, helping us learn how to care for mom during this time.  Administering medications, tracking changes in her response to the medications, giving her shots multiple times a day to replace the insulin her withering pancreas was unable to produce, administering blood thinners to treat the blood clots she had developed as a result of the treatment, monitoring and managing her pain with powerful medications that had equally as powerful side effects.  As we fumbled through our learning curve, mom was always so grateful for the care we provided, as awkward as it was at times.   As she became weaker and she needed more assistance with bathing and taking care of bodily functions, she showed great strength by accepting our help with grace and gratitude.   Not once did I ever see her wince when we gave her a shot, or grumble or lash out or cry as she saw her health fade rapidly before her.   She always said thank you for everything we did.  It was during those times when I realized that there is great strength in humility.  As she humbly accepted the process, her failing health and the fact that she needed to rely upon our assistance and care, she did so with great strength.    I will never forget it.

So as I reflect on the humility inherent in my journey to Grandma’s marathon, I think of my mom and the lesson she taught me about the connection between humility and strength.  I will continue to draw upon this thought as I face the long runs to come… including the one on June 16^th – 26.2 miles to be exact.  I know mom will be with me…  She will probably be saying thank you for doing this in her memory.  (Either that or she’ll be saying “what were you thinking, running a marathon???”  :-)  Truth be told, she’ll probably say them both …)


Paula


p.s.  Because I am running as a fundraiser for the National Hospice Foundation and two local hospice programs - the Regional Hospice Program in Hayward and the Deaf Hospice Program, I told some people that I would put the link to my fundraising page at the end of each post so it would be easy to find.  Here you go:  http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun