In Which Our Heroine Completes the Portland Marathon

Two weeks ago today, I set out to do the craziest thing I've ever done.  I ran a marathon.  Me! the kid who hated running with a passion.

My first memory of running in anything was an event at my sister's school field day when I was about 3 or 4.  As a "fun" event, the organizers had younger brothers and sisters who weren't yet school age run in a race.  I vaguely remember being lined up at the starting line.  I can't remember if I went willingly or not but I do remember, when the "ready... set... go" order was given, I ran.  I ran straight to my dad, who was no where near the finish line.  In fact, I think he was in the opposite direction.

Two weeks ago, when that air horn blew, I ran.  This time, I was focused on that finish line.

I took the bus downtown, along with several other runners and walkers.  Got to my corral, waited in line for the port-a-potty and then in an even longer line for the clothes check.  The one thing I had forgotten to prep the day before was my bell music for rehearsal later in the day so, it came to the marathon with me and got checked with my jacket.

No sooner had I checked my folder and jacket, then it was time for my corral to move to the start.  A few minutes wait at the start and then the air horn blast that signaled our start.  A slow jog across the start and we were off.

Down 4th Ave we ran, across Burnside and under the gate to Chinatown.  A right onto Davis and past Portland Taiko, one of the many music groups along the way.  I was excited to see and hear them and they brought a smile to my face.  I could have listened to them all the way to the finish.  Hmmm, maybe I need to add some taiko to my running mix.

Followed Naito Parkway south and then jogged through Portland State to continue on Barbur.  This part of the course follows the same course that the Shamrock Run follows.  Amazing what seven months of training can do for you.  Last March, I walked a lot of the Shamrock, a run of about 4.5 miles.  Two weeks ago, I was feeling strong, like I could run all day.

Spectators were everywhere.  A group of women ran in place in slow-motion, getting a wheezy laugh from most of the marathoners.  Signs cheered us all on.  "Dear perfect stranger, we are proud of you."  "99% can't do this.  You are the 1%."  Some would cheer us on by name, reading our names off our bibs.  It was wonderful, knowing so many were pulling for us, cheering, encouraging.  There was the guy with thundersticks who kept moving around multiple places.  The family cheering on Mindy (I was a little jealous of Mindy; I saw her cheering squad at least 5 different places).

I was able to keep a steady pace for the first two hours.  My plan of attack was to run at a fairly easy pace and walk through the water stations.  For those first two hours, I stayed at an easy 12 minute mile pace, right on target.  After the 10th mile, the course started wending its way up through Northwest Portland towards Hwy 30 and the St. Johns Bridge.  My stomach started to growl in hunger.  I started to slow a little but tried to keep my pace, leap frogging several people as they stopped to walk and then started running again.  Then came the hill going up to St. Johns Bridge.

Now, I'd been warned by several people that this was a hard hill.  It comes between mile 16 and 17; it's not particularly steep but it is long, especially after over three hours of running.  As I started my ascent, I thought I'd go as long as I could and then stop and walk.  However, as I started passing some people, ok, a lot of people, who were walking, I started thinking of the hill training I did for Hood to Coast.  I thought about running the Twin Peaks leg, watching the stars.  I thought about my Hood to Coast teammates who called me a beast.  I thought of how, when I got back in the van after completing that leg of Hood to Coast, I said, "I eat mountains like that for a late-night snack."  There was no way I was going to let myself stop after all that I had already accomplished so I kept running.

Right near the top, I nearly started to fade but I began to hear marimba music coming from the top of the hill.  It was enough to keep me going and then I was on the bridge.  I looked over my right shoulder towards downtown, just visible through the clearing mist, and I got chills.  I wish I could have taken a picture. 

Down, off the bridge, down a rather steep little hill and then up another street.  This hill, though shorter than the approach to St. Johns Bridge, felt a lot harder.  When I had crossed the bridge, I thought it was all downhill from there.  Boy, was I wrong.  Still, I refused to quit.

Past the University of Portland, past people sitting in their front yards watching the runners go by.  I saw a woman in front of her house with a giant bottle of ibuprofen, handing them to any one who wanted them.  By this time, my knees were definitely feeling the pain, but since I had not trained with ibuprofen during my runs, I was wary of taking any until I was finished.

Right before descending Greeley, I saw one of my co-workers who's wife was running the marathon.  I think she's probably a much faster runner than I am so I was touched that my co-worker would stay longer, just to cheer me on.  And I needed that encouragement because I was about to hit the wall.

You would think that running downhill would be easier.  Gravity is working with you and all that.  Ha!  The hardest part was running down Greeley.  At this point, my knees were screaming and my pace slowed to an over-17 minute mile.  By the time I got to the next flat stretch, it felt like I had no knee caps.   It was almost a relief to reach the flat of Interstate and the slight uphill approach to Broadway Bridge.

Coming off of the Broadway Bridge, I saw a friend that I hadn't seen in several months, walking with a friend.  After saying hi, he asked how I was feeling.  My response was "I'm not stopping, I'm not!"  Although I did walk through one more water station, when I got to the final water station, which was about a half mile from the finish, I refused to stop.  If I had stopped there, I'm not sure I would have started again.

When I turned onto Taylor, I started lengthening my stride and pushing my pace.  I was determined to finish well.  As a rower, I was trained to leave it all at the end, expend every last bit of energy in the final sprint.  Turning left onto 3rd, the finish was only about fifty feet away.  I dug deep and pushed hard and sprinted, passing a couple of people in the final seconds.  I heard them call my name, I crossed the finish line and I was done.

I was given my finisher's medal, a space blanket and I continued on to the food.  GU is no substitute for real food; it had staved off my hunger, kept me going but I was ready for food.  I took one of everything.  Cheese, yes.  Bagel, yes.  Chocolate, yes. Juice, yes.  And it tasted good.

I texted my sister and brother and a friend, "Finished!" and walked, slowly, to the gym to get ready for the rest of my day.

And, just like I caught the Hood to Coast bug, I'm now hooked on marathons.  I don't plan on running a marathon every year but maybe every other year.  I think after doing the Portland Marathon again, I'd like to run the Tokyo Marathon.  Who knows where I'll run next?

Marathon Time

The hotel was a a maze, literally.  Up a ramp, up a stopped escalator, down a moving escalator, down another escalator, around the corner, down a long, steep ramp and all the way to the end and there it was, the table where I picked up my race number for Sunday.  I know, I've been saying that the marathon was like going to school, something that I was excited about but also really nervous.  Today, I felt like the new kid at school.  I must have looked like it, too, 'cause a lot of people took one look at me, sympathetically nodded their heads and asked, "First marathon?"

I didn't linger at the Sports Health Expo where I picked up my number and shirt.  It felt too crazy, too intense.  I've been to the Health Expo during Race for the Cure weekend (where an entire convention hall is doused in Pepto-Bismol and Cadillac pink), I've been to bridal shows, and neither of them felt as intense as the Running Expo.  And, believe me, bridal shows can be intense.  I blame part of the added intensity on the location, trapped in the bowels of the Hilton.  The ceiling felt so close and I don't usually get claustrophobic.  Of course, the shortness of breath could be the general nervousness I've been feeling for the last week.

There's nothing more I can do to prepare.  I had my last long run two weeks ago and then promptly tapered as I should.  My last long run wasn't as long as I wanted and felt harder than anything I had done before.  It was shoe-horned in between church and bell rehearsal.  I was not prepared mentally for that run.

I had my last run yesterday, a short 2.5 miles made a little bit longer by the Occupy Portland protest.  They were blocking my regular route so I detoured slightly.  I was just going to run on the other side of the street but that would have involved running past a line of cops and that just seemed disrespectful for some reason.  So, I ran up another block and cut over.  No big deal.

After leaving the hotel today, which was quite a feat of navigation (for a few minutes, I was going in circles in the Hilton's grand ballroom trying to find the exit), I quickly headed off to finish my last minute marathon errands.  To the running store to get my GU (energy gel) for the race and something to carry it in.  Since water is provided on the course, I don't want to run with a water belt but I need something to carry my GU.  By the way, energy gel isn't as gross as you would think it would be, but it's certainly not something you really want to eat for fun.  Eating doesn't feel like the right word since you can't chew it.  Besides, it just sounds funny to say "I ate GU."  Go ahead, try saying it.  Doesn't feel right, does it?  Drinking doesn't sound right either, especially since it is much more viscous than water.  It's a mystery.

I'm now in my final carb-loading and hydration phase.  Tomorrow will be spent prepping for the marathon, packing and delivering my post-race bag to the gym so I can shower afterwards and proceed to church for our new pastor's installation service and bell choir rehearsal.  There is actually some method to my madness.  Better to be standing, moving, doing stuff than crashing on the couch for 6 hours and then crawling down to bed.  Or, at least, that's what I've been telling myself.

On the other hand, I could just be crazy, a glutton for punishment, and unable to admit I can't do everything.

Last of the Summer Somen

When the weather gets hot, I love to eat somen for dinner.  Somen are very thin, white noodles served cold with a light dipping sauce, tsuyu.  My parents brought me some from Japan as a birthday present this summer although the noodles are available from my local Asian food store.  I think the somen from my parents tastes better though. 

Somen with prosciutto, cucumber, tsuyu and cherry tomatoes

Of course, Portland didn't really get summer this year until the last two weeks of August so I didn't get to eat my somen for a while.  The temperatures stayed in the 70s and 80s for the most and it just didn't feel warm enough for somen, until the end of August and the beginning of September.  Then it got suddenly warmer than I prefer.  I spent some uncomfortable afternoons, in a puddle on the couch.  However, it was just right for somen.

This year, my parents added an admonition to keep my somen stored up high.  A few years ago, my parents brought me some birthday somen, along with other assorted goodies like Pocky and curry blocks.  We came back from dinner to find a hyper dog, a very dry water dish and little pieces of white all over the floor.  It wasn't until we found the shredded somen package on the living room floor that we realized I had left the somen in a doggie-accessible place and the little white things were the remains of the noodles.  Della had managed to eat not just a serving but the entire package.  That's five adult servings of carby noodles!  She's a 30 lb dog and, yet, she seems to have a cast iron stomach.  No ill affects what-so-ever.  She didn't even have the decency to look ashamed as she usually does when she eats something she shouldn't.  I know they say dogs don't know that they've done something bad but I don't believe it.  Della always knows but this time, she was completely unrepentant.

I've gotten better about keeping food out of her reach, but I still forget sometimes.  Just last Friday, I won some beef jerky for singing in a contest at work (it was Frontier Heritage Beer and Jerky Day, a completely made-up holiday).  I was exhausted when I got home, end of a long week, and I forgot to put my purse, with the jerky inside it, on the table.  Instead, I left it on the floor by the front door.  Della, being the perpetually hungry and inquisitive dog that she always seems to be, made quick work of it while my back was turned.  Apparently, I'll never learn.

Looks sweet, doesn't she?  Don't be fooled, she's a canine vacuum.

Twin Peaks - Hood to Coast Recap Part 2

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start." ~ John Bingham

Ok, I know I said I'd write this entry on Monday but it has taken me longer to recover lost sleep than I expected. I've been going to bed early all week.  Anyway, where was I?


Becky's family met her at the end of her first leg.  Her
children ran the last 50 or so feet with her (with their
signs).  They were the hit of the exchange.  So. Cute. 
Even cuter was Becky trying to explain to them she
wasn't done yet but still had two more legs to go.


Oh, so, after I finished my first leg, the final four runners in my van had to finish theirs. For the rest of them, it was very hot and humid. Unfortunately, we were unable to give a lot of support to them as they were running on the Springwater Corridor, a biking/walking path that used to be a rail corridor that stretches from Boring to Portland. For runners #9-12, it was unending blackberry bushes casting minimal shade, heat radiating from the blacktop and no breeze. I'm really glad I wasn't running any of those legs this year.

After being crammed in a van, it was nice
just to stretch out some.

Once we had all finished our first legs, it was back to Nathan's where we ate lasagna, soaked in the local pool and showered. Then, feeling refreshed, we all napped.

On to Exchange 18, the Columbia Fairgrounds. Well, technically, we never made it to the fairgrounds. The traffic going past the fairgrounds was soo bad that Shawn and Bill hopped out about a half mile early to jog up to the exchange to relieve Lauren (runner #6), who had to wait about 10-15 minutes for the hand off. Bill got back just before we passed the point of no return and we were able to by-pass most of the traffic by skirting through the neighborhood. Unfortunately, traffic only got worse from there, with almost every exchange thereafter backing up a half mile to a full mile.

Now we come to the part that people have been wondering about. The dreaded Twin Peaks leg. We managed to get ahead of Shawn but not by much. I had just enough time to use a Honey Bucket. I'd already gotten all of my reflective gear on but I forgot my visor, which helps keep my headlamp on. Nathan started to go back to the van to get it but Shawn came in right at that moment, and I had to go on without it.  I felt rushed and somewhat unprepared.

Now, I'll be honest, I've been scared of this leg ever since it was assigned to me. It looks absolutely horrible on paper (see here) and I'd heard nothing good about it. Everyone complains about the dust, the incline, the length, everything. So, I was worried even though I've been training for it. It really was a miracle that I even started.

But, it was beautiful. There were so many stars and I could see them so clearly.  At certain points, I could look ahead and see vans ahead on the mountainside and know, that was where I was going.  It felt a little humid at the start but not too hot and as I heated up, my elevation increased and the temperature fell so that I was never to warm or too cold.  Vans would pass every so often, illuminating the road.  Runners passed as well, offering encouragement.  But I didn't need it the way I had on my first leg.  I had the stars to encourage me.  I had the quiet of the mountains and the cool night air to refresh me.

My newest favorite quote is one by Marcus Aurelius, our team's psuedo-namesake.  It's listed at the bottom of this blog now but I'll repeat it again.  "Dwell on the beauty of life.  Watch the stars and see yourself running with them."  Last Friday night and into Saturday morning, I was watching the stars and I was running with them.  I chose to dwell on the beauty of life and I loved every minute of it.

Ugh - Hood to Coast Recap Part One

So, Hood to Coast.  How do I sum up 30 hours of fun, agony, joy, frustration and hilarity? It's a difficult thing to do.  But to paraphrase Lewis Carroll, I'll begin at the beginning and continue to the end.  Then I'll stop.

Since I've already detailed my preparations in a previous post, I'll start with the first van exchange, Exchange 6.  Bernadette was kind enough to pick me up on the way to meet the van but she was a little late because she was answering a work email.  We got to Nathan's with just enough time to load our stuff and shoehorn ourselves into the Suburban.  As a result, I didn't get to decorate our van until we got to Exchange 6.  I did a pretty good job, though, if I say so myself.

Van 1 started at Timberline Lodge in torrential rain after driving up in a thunderstorm.  Thankfully, the rain stopped soon after that.  Van 1 had some great stories to tell us about driving up in the lightening.  Lauren, runner #6, soon made it to the exchange, Shawn took the bracelet and we were off down the road.  It was blisteringly hot and humid in Sandy so we stopped to give Shawn some water.  Running machine that he is, he was soon done and it was my turn.

I'm off!

That first leg was the hardest.  I started well, nice and slow and steady.  The van stopped about 2 miles in to give me water.  Earlier, I had made the mistake of telling Nathan that "Who Let the Dogs Out" was in my running playlist.  Horrible song, I know, but it has a great beat and it always makes me laugh.  As I rounded the corner to where they were parked, he blasted it from the car speakers. It was a great pick-me-up.  However, somehow, I had got it in my brain that the leg was 3.5 miles, not 4.55, so I told them I wouldn't need anymore water stops.  Soon after they moved on, another female runner started to pass me but encouraged me to run with her.  I tried to tell her to go on but she was insistent.  It was fun to run with someone for a while but as a result, I pushed a little too hard to soon and got a stitch in my side.  I had to fall back and regroup.  When I got to the next turn, my watch said I had been running over 35 minutes so I thought I was close to the end.  Then I rounded the turn and saw a sign saying "1 more mile to lucky leg exchange." Ugh.  It was at the base of a rather steep hill.  Double ugh.  It was nearly 90 degrees fahrenheit.  Triple ugh.  I had told the van not to stop again.  Quadruple ugh.

Handing off to Bill - glad that leg is done!

I found the strength to run up the hill, albeit slowly (I nearly roadkilled someone who had roadkilled me just before the hill) and then rewarded myself with walking for about a minute.  There was a nice patch of shade and a little breeze so I soon started feeling a bit better.  I powered through that final mile and happily handed the bracelet to Bill who had the next leg.  Bernadette handed me a bottle of water which I promptly poured over my head.  Man, that felt good.

As a runner on Leg 8, I was given a token for a free beer at the finish line on the beach, a Widmer headband and a chance to play a game of chance.  I got to roll a giant die and if it landed on a 2, a 4, or a 6, I won a prize.  Well, who doesn't love free stuff?  So, I rolled the die, it fell off the table into the grass and landed on a 2.  What did I win, you ask?  I won a Widmer key lanyard and 6 commemorative Hood to Prost bottle openers.  Woohoo!

Check out my Widmer swag!  Pretty entertaining for someone who doesn't drink beer!

This recap will continue tomorrow as I am still rather zonked and I have work tomorrow.

Summer Camp! er, I mean Hood to Coast!

The day has finally arrived.  Hood to Coast day!  Woohoo!  In case you haven't noticed, I love Hood to Coast.  Wait, no, I LOVE Hood to Coast!  I don't know what it is about it that I love so much.  Try explaining it to anyone who doesn't know or write it down on paper and it just sounds horrendous.  Thirty plus hours in a van, running three different distances ranging from just over three to just over eight miles, no sleep, bad food, Honey Buckets, I could go on. And on.

And yet, Hood to Coast is one of the highlights of my year.  And it starts today!

This year, my preparations started a couple of days earlier.  I had to give Della a bath before I bundled her off to my sister's house and, apparently, it has been sufficiently warm enough in Portland for Della to finally start shedding her winter coat.  Except she wasn't shedding it, she was blowing it.  In the tub.  I swear, she left a third of her coat in the tub.  Next morning, she was still one giant scruffy fluff.  I was actually a little late for work because I was brushing her down.  Another third of her coat off later, she looked better and a little more comfortable.  But when I got home, I was still pulling tufts of fur off her.  She is now at my sister's where, hopefully, she will behave herself and not leave too much fur behind.

Amazing what you need for a 200 mile relay race.

Last night, I started packing.  I've been figuring out my list of what to bring to Hood to Coast for a few weeks now.  With some creative packing, I managed to get most of it in my gym bag.  Food will have to go in a separate bag which I think I would prefer anyway.  I wasn't at all sleepy last night, I was too wired.  Finally, about 10:30, after watching the Hood to Coast documentary, again, I had to force myself to go to bed.

I set my alarm for around 7:00, giving me plenty of time to shower and finish packing.  Unfortunately, I woke up at my almost normal time of 5:30.  Boing! Wide awake, no hope of going back to sleep.  I lay in bed as long as I could stand it, which wasn't long.  Up I went, to finish packing.  Since then, I've taken a nice, leisurely shower, packed, started a load of laundry (not H2C related) and finished loading the dishwasher.  I watched the news and weather (I'm glad I'm not running leg 1 this year, thunderstorms and pouring rain at the start), ate breakfast, watched an episode of Star Trek: Voyager (yes, I am a geek, get used to it) and now, I'm writing this blog entry.  I could do some vacuuming but I keep telling myself I need to conserve my energy.  Really, I'm just lazy and I don't want to right now.  I want to be on my way to Sandy where my van will start.

As I wrote in an earlier blog entry, Hood to Coast, for me, is like summer camp.  It's a break from my everyday life, a time to get away and do something different.  It challenges my body and my will and my preconceived notions of what I can do.  I get to experience my co-workers in a different way, seeing them outside the office.  I get to watch thousands of people do something incredible. 

And I can't wait to start.

Running Out of Time

Hood to Coast is coming up, just a few days away.  I'm feeling confident about it, even though I have a leg that has been described as the "5.75-mile epitome of your grandfather’s walk to school—uphill, both ways—with dusty gravel doing a more than adequate job of standing in for snow."  I've been running Terwilliger on the weekends for the last couple of months so I'm not too worried about it, especially as I will be running that leg at night.  For those of you who don't know, Terwilliger Blvd is a twisty-turny street that starts near downtown Portland and wends it's way up from about 200 ft to over 600 ft in just under 6 miles.  Not quite as steep as my H2C leg but it gives a good approximation and it's the right distance.  And, as I said, I'll be running it at night.

I love night running.  I find it to be very quiet and meditative.  Night runs feel longer, as if time had stopped but also shorter, as if I was running outside of time.  My pace is usually slower, I think because I don't have same visual cues that I would during the day, but I finish the run feeling fantastic and refreshed, despite the fact I've just run several miles.

Both times that I have done Hood to Coast before, I've preferred my night runs.  There's a sense of being all by yourself, in a good way.  During the day, you can't help but notice the people you're running with but at night, the people you pass (or if you are like me, the people who pass you) are merely well-lit shadows, outlined with reflective tape.  Out in the wilderness of Oregon, on the twisty roads of the coastal mountains, they soon disappear around the next turn and you're alone once more, with the night sky, cool air, and possibly a cow munching on hay in the field next to you.  I relish those feelings, I cherish them. 

So, I am excited for Hood to Coast.  I can't wait for it.  I feel like a kid about to go to summer camp.  And the marathon I have coming up?  Well, I'm choosing not to think about it right now.  It's like the first day of school.  I know I'm behind in training for it and I know I'm running out of time. 

That reminds me, I need to go for a run.