THE WINEGLASS DEBACLE

“When obstacles arise, you change your direction to reach your goal; you do not change your decision to get there.”
~ Zig Ziglar

This past Saturday morning, my friend and running partner, Kirsten, and I hopped on a plane to Rochester for the Wineglass Marathon which would be taking place in Corning, NY (about 2 hours West of Rochester) on Sunday morning.  This would be my 15th rodeo and her 8th.  Unfortunately, both of us had been fighting a cold for a few days and were struggling with low energy and the general inability to breath through our noses.  But, you don't train for a marathon for four months and let a cold keep you from lining up on race day.  Determined to stay upbeat and positive, we purchased a few trashy magazines and settled into our seats with a box of tissues.

It was a quick and painless flight and after landing we grabbed a rental car and began the trek to Corning.  It had been raining in the area on and off for a few days and, unfortunately, it was looking like it might be crappy on race day, too.  As we drove, the sky got dark and ominous and within thirty minutes or so it began to pour.  Perhaps I should have taken this as a sign right then and there.  

Despite the rain, we got to Corning with no issues, parked and made our way into the expo to grab our bibs.  The city of Corning is home to the Corning Museum of Glass which was founded by Corning Inc, the well known manufacturers of glass and ceramics....hence the Wineglass Marathon.  Not surprisingly, the expo was in the museum and we wove our way through the gift shop before arriving at the race tables.  Yes, we easily fell into the trap and bought glass trinkets for our kids.  Not a shocker.  We grabbed some lunch, got back in the car and drove down to Elmira (about 25 miles away) which is where we'd be staying for the night because Corning is small and all the hotels were full when we chose this marathon.  After checking in, we decided we could use a nap as our health had taken a turn for the worse.  We loaded up on all the cold-fighting products that we'd brought and tucked ourselves in.

Fortunately, we both conked out and slept for a solid hour or so.  Around 4:00 we got up, showered (I'm not religious, but I might have prayed a little at this point), and headed over to Horseheads (yes, that's the name of the town) where we were meeting up with Beth and Mary Beth, two of our Oiselle teammates, for dinner.  Beth had picked Louie's, a quaint little Italian restaurant that was perfect for our pre-race carb loading needs.  Kirsten and I put on our game faces in an attempt to forget about how we were feeling and had a really nice time meeting and chatting with Mary Beth and Beth as well as Beth's friend and daughter who also joined us.  It was a good dinner and as we got up to leave I was feeling cautiously optimistic about the next day.

We grabbed a quick photo on our way out and then bundled up to brave the rain which was still coming down heavily.  And then, in so many words, the shit hit the fan.  In our mad rush to get out, one of us threw the door open and all of us ran like hell to get to our cars.  Somehow, as I took a step down and out, my heel got caught on the underside of the door frame, which was metal, and as it got pulled back, it took a piece of my foot with it.  It happened so fast and the scene was so crazy (dark, rainy, lots of people) that despite the fact that I screamed, no one even knew something had gone wrong.  I stopped and grabbed my foot, and yelled to Kirsten that I needed to go back inside.  Confused, she turned around with me while trying to figure out what the deal was.  And then she saw it.  I asked the wait staff if they had a medical kit.  I looked down and blood was starting to gush out of the wound.  It was bad.  The owner came out and asked me what happened.  I was in a state of shock and attempted to explain as he handed me a towel to apply pressure.  The scene was kind of in slow motion as it unfolded.  Kirsten and I didn't really know the severity of the situation, the wait staff didn't really understand what was going on, and the owner couldn't believe that his door had done this to my foot.  Then Kirsten, bless her, snapped into deal mode as I could no longer make any decisions and the tears started to flow.  She said something to the effect of, "Ok.  We're going to get into the car and take a better look.  Then we'll head over to Rite-Aid and grab some steri-strips and bandaids and try to patch it back together.  Does that sound good?"  Yes, I nodded.  Just tell me what to do.  Back out we went, the restaurant staff still in disbelief and likely relieved to get us out of there.  We sat down and turned the lights on in the car.  It was so much worse than we thought.  Kirsten, now completely in control, thank the Lord, made the decision to call our friend from home who is a doctor and who's husband is a surgeon to get their opinion before we started Micky Mousing the wound back together ourselves.  Britt, who was at her kids' swim meet at the time, got on the phone with us and made her way outside so she could hear us.  We gave her the story and then showed her the cut (what did we do before FaceTime???).  She and her husband, who'd come out to join her, took a look at the wound and told us we needed to get to the ER pronto, that it was too deep to deal with ourselves and would likely need stitches.  This is the first moment where I realized that I was probably not going to be racing the next day.  To our good fortune our hotel was right next door to a hospital, the Arnot Medical Center, which oddly enough, was the main sponsor of our marathon.  A bit ironic, no?  So, much to my dismay, we spent the rest of our evening at the Emergency Room with a wide and very interesting cast of characters.  I won't give you the play by play but I'll share some of the conversations I had with various people we met throughout the night.  

With the reception nurse:

Her: So, what happened?

Me: I scraped a piece of my heel off on a metal door.  I'm supposed to be doing the Wineglass Marathon tomorrow, but....

Her: Oooh. That's rough.  Are you gonna run?

---> I perked back up at this point

Me: You think I can?

Her: I don't know. You seem pretty tough.
Me: Think it's okay to do with stitches?
Her: Where there's a will there's a way.  Okay, now the doctor who's on call is about 190 years old, but he's really good.  Don't panic when you see him.  Despite how he looks, he does know what he's doing.  Have a seat and we'll call you when he's ready.

Ummmm....what???!!!  I was not feeling good about the situation at this point.  I sat back down and Kirsten looked at me dead on and said, "Rebecca, you know you're not doing this marathon, right?"  I nodded.  Yes, I knew.  And then I called my husband to tell him what happened.  I let him know that I wouldn't be racing.  And that was it.  After about an hour, we headed back to see the doctor.  I laid down on the bed and waited.  A few minutes later we heard a shuffling sound.  First we saw his shoes, which were brown leather sandals that he was wearing with wool socks.  As the nurse informed us, he was, indeed, very old.  He was also quiet, slow and severely arthritic.  I wasn't judging any of this, mind you.  But, I was wondering how the hell this guy was going to sew my foot up.  Then we chatted.

With the doctor:
Dr: So, what happened here:
Me: I was leaving a restaurant and I scraped a piece of my heel off on a metal door when it got pulled open.
Dr: Mmmm. Was the door old?
--->I'm confused.  So, Kirsten chimes in.  
K: The restaurant was recently renovated so it was probably new.
Dr: Mmmm. Okay, we'll have to clean it out. But you should probably get a tetanus shot just in case.
Me: Awesome.  
Dr: Okay, let's take a look.  Now, where did the nurses put the gloves.  They seemed to have rearranged the room on me.  I'll be right back.
Me: (to K) Oh my.
Dr: (after shuffling back in) So, you are here to run a marathon?
Me: Yes.  Is there any chance I can still run? (Fine, I'll admit I was still holding on to a very thin slice of hope)
Dr: Well, I don't think that's such a hot idea.  
Me: So, that's a no?
Dr: The wound isn't going to heal correctly if it's sliding around and under stress for a few hours.  I don't see you running again for about 12-14 days.  No activity, really.  You need to let it grow back together.  Now turn around and let's get started.

Two hours, eleven stitches and a tetanus shot later, we finally left the hospital.  I had accepted my fate.  There would be no marathon for me.  Instead, I would be cheering for Kirsten from the sidelines.  When we get back to the hotel room, Kirsten gave me a big hug and told me how sorry she was.  I let her know how grateful I was that she was with me.  That I would have been 100% screwed if I had been on my own.  And that I was truly excited to watch her race the next day, which I was.  We are a team.  We train together.  We race together.  And we support each other in everything we do, even if that means one of us is racing and the other is not.  It's why we are as close as we are and one of the main reasons I continue to do marathons each year.

The next morning we got up at 5:30am.  We grabbed coffee and bagels at Dunkin' Donuts and made our way back to Corning so Kirsten could catch the bus out to the start.  I was super pumped for her.  And I was really sad at the same time.  Both of us were totally exhausted from the night we'd had and from our colds, which were still hanging on.  The fact that she was even doing this was kind of mind-blowing.  I wished her good luck and sent her off with a hug.  Then I headed back to the hotel as I was in desperate need of a nap before I had to meet her at the finish.  Around 10:30, I grabbed myself a second cup of coffee and drove to Corning (again) to wait for Kirsten.

It turned out to be a really nice day.  A little warm, but, thankfully, cloudy and dry.  Great race conditions.  And great spectating weather.  I stood by the finish and watched all the runners come in.  I'm not going to lie, it was hard for me.  But, I did my best to embrace the situation and cheered for all the runners who I knew had worked equally as hard as I had to get to this point; some smiling, some grimacing, some sprinting, some hunched over in pain, many waving, some crying.  I got it.  I'd been in all of those situations before.  I was genuinely happy for them.  And I knew I'd be there again relatively soon.  And that carried me through the day.  That and watching Kirsten float by me on her way to finishing her 8th marathon, which she did with flying colors.

It was, hands down, one of the most bizarre, stressful, disappointing, even humorous weekends I've ever lived through.  I won't speak for Kirsten, but I do think she would agree with me.  And yet, somehow, we managed to get through it.  Me in one piece.  Her with another marathon under her belt.  Both of us ridiculously happy to have it behind us and ready to move on.  On our flight home, I found myself breaking it down into the good and the bad.

The downside:
~ I trained like a beast for four months for a marathon that I didn't get to run.
~ I spent $400 for my flight and hotel only to end up in the ER in upstate NY.  Who knows what my hospital bill will end up being after insurance.
~ I can't do anything physical for 12 days.

The upside:
~ I didn't tear the tendon which would have been a thousand times worse.
~ I didn't need plastic surgery which, no disrespect to my elderly doctor, I'm not sure I would have trusted him to do.
~ I got to support my friend and teammate as she ran and successfully completed her 8th marathon.
~ I am beyond fired up for my next race, whatever that might be.

Today, Tuesday, I'm on the road to recovery and already looking ahead.  My friends, my family and my teammates from near and far have been unbelieveably supportive and I can't thank them enough for being there for me.  From a mental standpoint, I have never needed a run more than I do right now.  But that's not happening.  And it's okay.  Worse things have happened.  I will get through this.  And I know I will come out stronger.  And the next time I line up on race day?  Look out.  There will be flames.  I guarantee you that.

#TEAMBACON

Listen to this:
Future Looks Good - One Republic

JUST BOSTON

"I just want to cross Boston off my list.  Then I'm done."

~ me, to my husband after my 1st marathon

Let's take a step back in time, shall we?  It's spring of 2007.  I've just had my second daughter, Grace, back in February and slowly, but surely, I'm getting back into running.  And I'm loving it.  Every time I lace up and hit the road I feel free, alive, elated - all of it.  I can't get enough.  As summer rolls around, the idea of running Boston creeps into my head.  We're living in Charlestown, just outside the city, and I've gone and watched the marathon almost every year since we'd moved to MA back in 2001.  The farthest I've ever raced is a half.  The thought of doubling that distance is daunting, overwhelming and scary as hell and yet I can't get it out of my head.  Of course, I can't just register for Boston.  I have to qualify.  So, I bite the bullet and sign up for the Bay State Marathon which will take place in October.  Based on the reviews, it's flat, fast and boring.  But, I have a baby and a 2 year old and if I'm going to make anything happen at this point in my life, it needs to be relatively simple, so Bay State makes perfect sense.  Okay, so now I'm doing this.  Or, at least, I'm going to try.  I start running more.  Like 5-6 miles almost every day.  (I know, whoa!!)  Some days I even pick up the pace.  Maybe I throw in a couple long-ish runs.  I don't really remember.  My naive, younger self just assumes if I stay in good shape and run consistently I'll be good to go come October.  Silly, silly me.  Finally, it's October and the race is looming.  I don't taper because I don't know what it is.  Not that it matters.  I haven't done enough mileage to warrant a taper.  Basically, I'm clueless.  In some ways it's better.  In some ways, not so much.  The night before the race I eat some pasta because I've heard that's what people do.  I get up early the next morning, drink a cup of coffee and grab a bar to eat on the road as my husband drives me out to Lowell.  It's a beautiful, crisp fall morning; perfect race weather.  Jeff leaves me at the arena and tells me he'll see me at the finish line.  Holy shit.  This this is really happening.  I grab my bib and find a corner to hang out, stretch and just soak up the scene.  People are eating bananas (dummies, why would they start the race with a full stomach?), filling up water bottles for their fuel belts (wow, that looks ridiculously heavy and awkward, I can't believe they're going to run with that on)  and stashing their gels in their pockets (Hmm.  I wonder what those small, shiny packets are that everyone seems to have).  Finally, it's time to head over to the start.  I walk out in my tank top (cotton) and shorts (2 sizes to big) and instantly realize why everyone is wearing a trash bag or carrying a blanket.  Dammit.  I'm freezing but I just play it cool because, well, what else am I going to do?  Finally, the gun blows and we're off.  I start my music, oh yes, always music.  Though, I do think I was listening on the original iPod.  Not the smallest device, but so much better than the Sony Walkman, which I'd probably just recently stopped using.  I settle in to my typical pace and find a little group to run with.  I start chatting with people, asking them what their pace goals are.  I'm not getting much of a response and just assume my fellow runners aren't in the mood to talk.  Oh well.  For the first half of the race I feel awesome.  The miles are flying by.  I am not the least bit thirsty, so I don't take any fluids.  Why slow yourself down if you don't need to?  I've paired up with a gentleman who's wife or friend meets up with him every six miles or so to give him a bottle of something to pink to drink.  So bizarre, I think to myself.  Seems like a lot of effort.  But, I guess he needs it.  Thank goodness I don't.  Around mile 15, my sister-in-law jumps in to run with me for the second half of the race.  I throw my iPod to my husband who is standing in the crowd so I can chat with her instead, which I assume we'll be doing all the way to the finish line.  And we do for a while.  All things considered, it's still going pretty well.  I've been comfortably holding about a 7:30 pace and haven't had any issues.  Until mile 17.  I start to feel a little woozy.  So, I slow down a little, but I'm still able to chug along. The talking from my end has gone from complete sentences to one word answers.  I hang on like this for a few more miles and then the wheels fall off.  I feel weird, dazed, confused.  My legs are getting really, really heavy.  My feet don't want to go.  I want to walk. I need to stop.  My sis-in-law keeps me going.  "Let's jog until the next tree and then we'll walk again"  she's saying.  Okay, yes.  Just do what she says.  One foot in front of the other.  Somehow, I manage to shuffle/walk/jog through the final 10K and finally I see the stadium which is where we're finishing. Dear Lord, I never thought it would come.  I have no idea what my time or pace is at this point.  I've stopped looking and I don't care.  I just want to be done.  My legs are dead weight, but they're still going.  Finally, I'm on the track and the finish line is visible.  Okay, let's do this.  I'm sprinting now.  (not really, but I think I am)  And I cross the line in 3:39:59.  I need a 3:40 to qualify for Boston. Talk about cutting it close.  I can't really digest this information at the moment.  I'm just so freaking happy to be done.  Somehow I muster up enough energy to walk (crawl) up the stadium steps to find my family.  I can't drink anything but I find some M&Ms and pour them into my mouth.  Guess I needed a little sugar.  I'm still not talking in complete sentences and I'm chilled to the bone.  My older daughter, Rosie, wants me to carry her.  I try to pick her up.  No dice.  My husband swoops in and deals.  Bless him.  We make our way back to the car and eventually head home.  I sit in a state of disbelief and bliss.  Holy crap.  I qualified for the Boston Marathon.  And then...holy shit, I have to run another one???  Fast forward to this Sunday.  I'll be running my 15th marathon.  A lot has changed in regards to my training, my race prep and my overall knowledge about running in general. I've ramped up the mileage a bit.  I got myself a coach.  I bought some running clothes that fit and are moisture wicking.  Even figured out the whole gel thing.  But that feeling that I had in my gut when I made my way over to the line back in 2007 for the first time?  That, I'm sure, will be exactly the same.  Game.  On.

Listen to this:
Firedbird - Galantis

MAX EXHAUSTION

In less two weeks I'll be toeing the line at my 15th marathon. (insert pause while I have a minor freak out).  As you know, the training for these babies is long and arduous.  I'm not complaining.  I choose to do them.  And, for the most part, I really enjoy the training.  But, I do tend to forget, and probably for good reason, how hard it can be to get through the final push before the taper.  If you've been reading this blog for a while, please forgive me as I'm sure I've posted about this subject many times.  And yet still, each time I get through the 'peak week' I find myself feeling like I need to share the experience with others.  Why?  Because it's funny?  Because it's borderline nuts?  Because I don't have anything else to talk about but running and how tired I am at the moment?  All of those things, perhaps??  Last week I managed (barely) to work my way through the following:
Monday - 24 mile long run
Tuesday - 8 mile recovery run
Wednesday - 11 mile interval workout (3 sets of 2 x mile at 6:30 pace)
Thursday - 8 mile recovery run
Friday - Double session (10 mile am run, 6 mile pm run)
Saturday - 8 mile recovery run
Total Miles - 75
It wasn't the most mileage I've done for this cycle, but it was far and away the most difficult series of workouts.  And by Thursday, I was hanging on by my fingernails physically, mentally and emotionally.  Case and point - as I drove my girls to school on Friday morning I found myself nodding in agreement as Taking Back Sunday sang I know you're tired.  I feel it, too.  Rosie and Grace were in the back seat rolling their eyes, clearly embarrassed and likely questioning my parental skills.  I was too tired to care.  My friend and running teammate, Kirsten, has been training with me for this race and is equally as exhausted if not more.  I think it's safe to say that we are both completely punch drunk at this point.  A typical pre-run conversation between us often looks something like this:

Note the sarcasm.  There has been a lot of it lately; along with a lot of complaining, doubting, laughing, crying and everything else you feel and/or do when you're working your ass off day in and day out.  Over the past couple weeks, people have been asking me how my training has been going for this next one.  I think my current level of exhaustion has been pretty noticeable.  Maybe it's the dark circles under my eyes.  Or maybe it's the fact that I'm typically carrying a cup of coffee regardless of the time of day.  Who knows.  My answer, however, is not much different than it's been in the past.  The training has been hard.  And I'm ready for it to be over.  And I hope it goes well.  But if it doesn't, that's okay, too.  Because despite my exhaustion, I've truly enjoyed the process.  And for me, that's what it's all about.

TOP 10 SIGNS THAT MAX EXHAUSTION HAS BEEN REACHED

1. My morning coffee is no longer kicking in the way it used to.  Double espresso??  Nothing.
2. I seriously consider lying down for a rest on any surface that looks even remotely comfortable - the grass, a park bench, the back seat of my car.
3. Not only have I been going to bed before 9:00pm, but I start thinking about going to bed around 3:00pm and by the time I hit the pillow I'm so excited I could cry (but, I don't because I'm too tired)
4. I've been apologizing to my dog because I'm too wiped to take her for our usual walks and hikes this week.  I swear she's mad at me.
5. I've been using Amazon Prime to order items that I typically shop around town for because I don't have the motivation to deal - paper towels, dish soap, gum.  I know, it's bad.
6. Every time I head into my room to take a shower I hear my bed telling me to lie down instead.
7. I've been waking up at my usual time but I physically can't get out of bed.  I have to give myself a little pep talk every morning and literally will my body to get moving.
8. I've been purchasing a ridiculous amount of music for the extra boost it gives me before and during my workouts.
9. I'm making a lot of really stupid mistakes and I'm making them often (ie. locking myself out of the house, driving right by the turn to my kids' school, wearing my running shorts inside out, etc.)
10. I've been having conversations with people - my kids, their teachers, my friends - I see their lips moving, I know they are talking to me, but I just can't process what they are saying.  I want to respond.  I do.  But, my ability to focus is fair, at best.  Again, sorry.  Just give me 2 weeks.

Listen to this:
Rule Number One - Sleigh Bells

GUEST POST:HOW COFFEE HELPS YOU RUN

“As long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be?” 

~ Cassandra Clare, 'City of Ashes'

Today's post is brought to you buy the folks over at Running Stats, a website dedicated to sharing valuable information with runners on a wide range of running related topics.  I love to run and you know I love coffee, so I was more than thrilled when they offered to provide specific information on how coffee HELPS YOU RUN.  Not that I needed any more reasons to enjoy my post-run (ok, fine and pre-run) drink of choice, but I'm not sad to know that my coffee drinking habits might actually be working in my favor.  Feel free to read on and decide for yourself.  In the meantime, I'm going to go pour myself a second cup.

WHY COFFEE HELPS YOU RUN

Written By: Bethany Widdicombe at Running Stats

For years people have commented that coffee was bad for runners.  Rumors of caffeine dehydrating a person kept many athletes away from their morning beverage of choice.  In reality, a cup of coffee can actually enhance your running.

Coffee Boosts Your Brain

Caffeine has the ability to stimulate your body to alertness, which many people seek on tired days.  Your brain can send faster signals to your muscles after drinking coffee, which can increase your muscle response time while running.  Drinking a cup of coffee an hour before you run for your daily workout, or on race day, can help boost your running time by connecting your brain to your movement better.

Coffee also can improve your mood.  If you are a regular coffee drinker, you may be very familiar with the grumpiness that comes before your cup of coffee.  Rather than yelling at the car that cut you off, you will be able to calmly move about your run after your morning cup of coffee.  Don’t hesitate about the drink you love, be bold in the fact that it actually helps you.

Coffee also lowers your perception of fatigue, and can give you the boost you need on tough days.  Whether you are going out to conquer a few miles, or are training for a race, coffee can help you feel better and run faster.

Image Credit: petitepacer.com

Coffee Helps You Recover

When paired with carbohydrates, caffeine decreases your recovery time by replacing muscle glycogen at a faster rate.  Meaning, you can spend more time training and less time recovering from injury.  Experts say that all you need is 6 milligrams of caffeine for every kilogram of body weight (or 3.5 ounces for every 2.2 pounds).  Having any more caffeine than what your body needs is not proven to be effective.

Studies have shown that coffee can also help fight against inflammatory properties, which can prevent potential injuries of shin splints and runner’s knee.  As a runner, and a coffee lover, you can continue your day just as usual knowing that your coffee habit actually helps you recover.

 

Image Credit: pinterest.com

The Dehydration Myth

Waves of articles now show that coffee doesn't dehydrate you. Caffeine is a diuretic, but does not directly connect to dehydrating your body.  Like any intake of liquid, coffee will make you run to the bathroom from having too much, but it won’t take away hydration from your body. When conquering longer runs, be sure to carry hydration with you, regardless of how much coffee you had in the morning.

Balance your coffee intake by knowing your needed levels, as well as still taking in water.  The better hydrated you are running, the better your coffee will be able to work with your muscles for maximum performance.

Coffee Helps You Be You

Running is essential, and so is coffee.  From busy days to calm mornings, coffee is a staple for many.  With many coffee flavored power bars, infused smoothies, and coffee cake, there are many options to fulfill your love for coffee.  Each passing day and milestone met, you will be able to face the day with a joyous mood and the energy you need to run your best every single day.

For coffee lovers everywhere, enjoy your cup of caffeine before a long run, as it will boost your brain, your muscles, and your mood.

Bottom line, if you like coffee and you're a runner, you're in luck.  And if you don't, well, perhaps it's worth giving it a try?  Because, based on experience, I can guarantee that being in a joyous mood and running strong is beyond awesome.  Drink up!

Listen to this:

Adrenaline - Zedd (w/ Grey)

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