Waiting for the End. Part One--Marathon Mayhem

A 3-part, self-indulgent series of blog posts about my journey from marathon mayhem, to triathlon desperation, to reaching a point of satisfied surrender.

Part One: Marathon Mayhem

I started running in 2004. I was a stay-at-home mommy with my little girl Parker who had recently celebrated her 1st birthday. While being at home with her and our pug Mona in our bungalow in the Houston Heights was something to cherish, I've got this restless part of me that struggles with enjoying the moment. I started going for some runs at Houston's Memorial Park, pushing my sweet Parker in the BOB stroller. And after a short time, I decided on a marathon. Very typical for me. No 10K, no half marathon--jump right to the 26.2. Not much official running past really. I played field hockey for all of high school and track my freshman year. I quit track, though, because...damn! Too hard. Too much pressure. When that gun goes off, it's just you and that painful burning in your legs and lungs, struggling to get to that finish line as fast as you can. Sorry coaches. No track for me.

I joined the local Jeff Galloway group, who preaches that with scheduled walk breaks, anyone can get themselves across the marathon finish line, and that claim was very attractive to ignorant me, who had quite the unhealthy past during college and years after (see "Hopefully the Year of the Tiger...and Not the Kitten"). In October of 2004, I lost my marathon virginity and ran the Twin Cities Marathon in 4:47. (Sounds like a random race for a Houstonian to do, but I had made friends with someone in the Galloway group that was from Minneapolis and running it, and it sounded nice. And it was. They call it "the most beautiful urban marathon in America." And you can take your kiddos to the Mall of America that has Camp Snoopy. Fun! Whatever. Anyway...) After Twin Cities, I stayed with the Galloway group till the Houston Marathon in Jan. '05, keeping up my 4:1 strategy they had taught me (run 4 min., walk 1 min.). That race was a 4:35.

The original plan was to achieve a marathon, and then my husband Chad and I would like to have another baby. And that's just what we did. A couple of months after the Houston marathon, I was pregnant with Bridget. And another event--we moved to The Woodlands, a community just north of Houston, a few weeks before the Houston marathon, where Chad grew up. Anytime Chad had brought up the idea of moving there, I was adamant that we would never do that. (Born and raised within Houston. Preposterous to consider living outside of it.), but our little bungalow Heights life had begun to feel more crowded with a toddler...and the desire for another baby. So I admitted that The Woodlands was a good idea for us. And it really was. Such a nice place to raise kids. And it turns out--such an awesome place to run!

Like so many, I fell in love with the marathon, and one experience wasn't enough. (I'm looking at my first two marathons as one experience.) So after Bridget was born on Dec. 26, 2005, I soon signed up for a Luke's Locker program (local running store). From there, I found out about two things: One, the tradition of the Wed. night track group with Dan Green, a charismatic, super-sweet, super-successful coach who led the The Woodlands High School boys' cross-country team to 15 state titles and many more accomplishments. And he also won the original Houston marathon. Wed. nights with Coach Green was so fun, and I'm so glad to have had that. My running improved a lot; I had definitely moved on from the Galloway walk breaks. (Not that there's anything wrong with them!) Also, Parker got so much out of her time with him and the other coaches at his summer camp and the kids cross-country meets. Funny thing: Chad went to Coach Green's running camps when he was little.

The second thing I discovered from that Luke's Locker program is The Woodlands Running Club.This group is a major part of The Woodlands' running community, and for me, coupled with Wed. nights with Coach Green, was what made running in The Woodlands so amazing. (And the many, many, flat, sidewalk trails!) I made some great friends from this club.

Rest of my timeline...

Las Vegas Marathon--Dec. '06: my first time to qualify for Boston. 3:40:32. A brutal battle to the finish line-27 seconds to spare. The mile markers were terribly off. I left my pace group around mile 20--not because I knew the severity of the trouble brewing; I had just decided to finish the rest of the race on my own. Thank God I did that. That race created chaos with the poorly placed mile markers. As I crossed the finish line, my pace group leader and his wife flew right by me, obviously in a panic to make the 3:40 time the husband was responsible for. Out of our group, the three of us were the only ones to make the time. I dry heaved right after crossing the finish line. Literally a gut-wrenching experience. I happened to bump into the pace leader and his wife in the hotel lobby the next day, and he told me that the Clif Bar Pace Team would never return again to Las Vegas. Picture: my mom and I in the hotel room before heading to the starting line. She succeeded in her goal, too--to walk the half in under 3 hours. She's a fast walker!

Boston marathon--Apr. '07: went with my two friends Alana and Sharon and our husbands. This 111th Boston Marathon was nearly cancelled due to a late chilly storm. Our poor husbands had a rougher time than we did in a way; tough day to be a spectator. Sitting in a little tent in Hopkington that a guy let us borrow because his wave was about to start is a memory that I love. (Actually, Alana and I were in the one-man tent. Sweet Sharon sacrificed herself and braved the weather in the random guy's camping chair and her trash bag covering her.) I had injured my hip flexor weeks before Boston and hadn't run that whole time, so this marathon was really difficult. 4:42, over an hour slower than my qualifying time. My hip was still hurting, and the rest of me fell apart hours after the race, like someone had taken a bat to me. I did not want that wheelchair or medical tent at the finish line--was very annoyed and just wanted to be left alone so I could get the F back to the hotel. But the next day? Yes. I was happy to snag a wheelchair to get to our gate at the airport.

Marathons of Texas Challenge--Dec., Jan., Feb., '07-'08: Did this silliness with my friends Carrie and Sharon. You run Dallas, Houston and Austin--each a month apart, and you get a jacket. Oooo, ahhh. I tried to qualify again for Boston but just couldn't duplicate my performance in Vegas. 3:42, 3:42, and 3:51.

Texas Independence Relay--Mar. '08: a 200+ mile relay race from Gonazales ,TX to the San Jacinto Monument. The inaugural year. Our team was called "The Athletic Girls Next Door." Plenty of fun, but this was a one-time event for me. Couldn't wrap my brain around doing it again.

Lonestar Triathlon. Quarter Iron Relay--Apr. '08: Galveston. This was a for-fun idea. I had no interest in triathlons at this time. Never thought I would seriously participate in one. A third of one was enough. First place! Helps to have a super cyclist and a raging runner. I was the obvious weak link in our team (Look at that professional swimsuit I'm sporting under the wetsuit), but Carrie and Kerri made up for it, giving us the win for the women's relay category.

San Antonio Marathon--Nov. '08: This was the inaugural Rock & Roll marathon for San Antonio. And this was when I experienced my most dedicated, successful training. Those failed attempts to PR during the Marathons of Texas Challenge were disappointing. I wanted a new PR, and fortunately, I was able to pull it off. 3:35. Chad and I stayed at the Hyatt Hill Country resort for this weekend. A sweet little getaway. And he did the half marathon--his most successful bout with running and training for a race.

Houston Marathon--Jan. '09: a couple of months after San Antonio. Again, my training and remaining injury-free were at their best. The night before this race, we stayed in town at my mom and stepfather's house. I warned my girls, particularly Parker, not to do their typical shenanigans at Granny and Poppy's that night--that Mommy's race was really important to her and that she needed a good night's sleep. For all of my previous marathons, the girls weren't with me the night before (besides Twin Cities when Parker was a toddler. Remember? Camp Snoopy). The race was either out of town and they hadn't come on the trip, or for the past two Houston races, they had stayed with Chad's dad and stepmother who also live in Houston. This time, though, for whatever reason, I thought, "Oh, it'll be fine. We can all stay at my mom's." Well...at about 3:00 am, my mother's instinct woke me up. I walked downstairs and found my girls giggling in the living room. I saw red. Livid. Went nuts. Growled and snarled. Put those bad girls back in their beds. And then I cried at my loss of temper. It was quite a scene. Not the plush, pre-race experience that I had had at the resort in San Antonio. Bridget managed to go back to sleep, but I couldn't recover from the episode, so I got Parker out of her bed (because I just knew she was still awake, too, and I wanted her to forgive me for my yelling), and we moved into the kitchen together. (Chad remained asleep the whole time and had no idea any of this was happening.) I felt so awful about my misbehavior. I was still angry, too, though. Couldn't believe she did exactly what I warned her not to do. Like hit-it-out-of-the-ballpark naughtiness. But I tried hard to make up for my explosion. We talked about the race. I showed her all of my flavors of Gu's I was going to take. I showed her my pace bracelet. My bib number and pinning it to my shorts. Showed her the map of the course and where she and Daddy and Bridget would be standing around mile 18 to see me pass by and wave. I think I had put out the fire. She ended up riding with me and Chad to the starting line downtown to drop me off. I'm so glad we stayed up together and that she rode with me to the start; it ended up being a good mother-daughter moment. But I was still shaken up about my breakdown. Crying is not something you typically do before your marathon. And then minutes before the gun goes off, I discover my beloved Garmin's battery is dead (GPS watch); it didn't charge overnight for whatever reason. Ugh. And it was already in the mid-60's. Too hot. This race was going to suck.

But with all of that, it turned out to be my day. 3:32:00 (gotta include the zero seconds!). You just never know. I wondered if the girls getting me up extra early was actually what made the difference--because I had eaten my breakfast earlier than usual. Whatever the case, I was ecstatic. Picture: none from the race, so I included a shot of my firecracker girls at the zoo a couple of weeks before the race.

Disney Princess Half Marathon--Mar. '09: I love DisneyWorld, and when I heard about this inaugural race (I seem to like inaugurals), I was all over it. I had run two half marathons before, but this was my first (and only) time to race one. 1:41. I wanted 1:39, and I could give all kinds of excuses as to why that didn't happen (walking around the parks the day before the race, Daylight Savings the night before the race--"Spring forward!", wearing a pink tennis outfit), but really, I just couldn't pull it off. Fun race, though! Especially for a Disney dork like me. I loved it. And the best medal ever: tiara-shaped with diamond and amethyst rhinestones. See "Tomboy Power" to read a little more about this race.

Bikram Yoga 60-Day Challenge--Mar. to May '09: In the midst of all that training for San Antonio and Houston, I knew that I was going to want to switch gears after the recent marathons and the Disney race. I had been dabbling in Bikram yoga since 2002. Would take some classes, totally drop it, come back, leave again, and so on. But I really liked it a lot. So I asked some of my running friends if they might want to do a 60-Day challenge with me--starting the Monday after Spring Break. This was a major change from marathon training, obviously. And that was so nice! Bikram is a kick-butt workout. So amazing to have your heart rate jacked up like that when you haven't even left your little spot on your yoga mat. Picture: Celebrating at Hubble & Hudson restaurant after our 60th class. Sharon (my partner in crime for so many of these athletic endeavors), Alana (Fauna Extreme's gorgeous website model), JoAnn (my inspiration for what I wrote about Fauna Extreme's pronghorn), Kerri (Fauna Extreme's number one customer), me.

Fauna Extreme is born: spring, '09: My inspiring animal athletes. I love you all. Helping me persevere and overcome. Blog posts about the beginning: "Part 1 Complete: The Shirts Are Here." , "Part 2 Complete: Colorful, But Small Shirts" and "When Did I Become So Annoying?"

Rollerskating accident. Severe disc herniation--May '09: This lovely event happened literally 2 days after the Bikram challenge. What if it had happened on like day 58? What the hell would I have done? I don't want to rewrite about it, so this is a cut-and-paste from another blog entry:

"But...literally two days after we completed that rewarding commitment, my yoga mat was pulled out from under me. I was at a roller skating birthday party for my daughter Parker's friend. Parker and I were on the rink, holding hands, facing each other. Not moving, just standing there together, holding hands. Parker lost her balance and fell...and when she fell, my arms were ripped in a downward motion while I remained standing with my knees locked, up on the roller skates. It was the perfect equation for my L4/L5 disc to explode into my spinal canal.

I had been living with functional sciatica for over a year. Run marathons with it. PR'd with it. But this was sciatica x 100. Both sides of my butt and thighs numb. Insane back pain in the beginning (the muscles locked up around the herniation) that a week or so later whined down to a tolerable, odd-feeling pain (the muscles releasing somewhat and then the effects of the disc squishing my nerves). Three spine surgeons and one chiropractor said I had to have surgery. (Two opinions weren't enough for my state of denial.) 9 out of 10 times a disc herniation can be treated with physical therapy, anti-inflammatories, rest and time, but I was that 1 out of 10. Had to have the surgery. Think of a disc as a jelly doughnut. Half the jelly shot out of my L4/L5 doughnut, occupying 90% of my spinal canal."

Picture: My MRI about 10 months after surgery. Can you see it? Click on the photo; get a good look at this ugly MRI. (That's how one doctor referred to it.) The second disc from the bottom; it's a flat tire that's sticking out and pushing against that white spinal canal that's nice and wide next to my higher vertebrae. Yes, the disc above it is bulging, too, and the one below, but they aren't causing any symptoms, and most MRIs show bulging discs. Whatever. Ugh. Crazy. I'm all good to go, but these squished nerves you see here are the ones that control bladder and bowel function. I never had those symptoms, thank God, but that's something that once lost, doctors can't bring back. Glad to have gotten on that operating table!

Las Vegas Half Marathon: Dec., '09: My stepfather passed away to cancer in Aug. of this year. He had also been on that Las Vegas Marathon trip in '06, and he also was out there walking the half marathon, like my mom. Not in under 3 hours like my mom! But he did complete the race. As a way to think about him, celebrate him...my mom, stepsister, sister-in-law and I went to Vegas and walked the half. I stayed with my speedy mom and we crossed the finish around 3:12 I think. We did have to wait in a porta potty line for at least five minutes, though. Just saying! Turns out 3+ hours of fast walking makes you about as sore as 3 1/2 hours of running.

Texas Half Marathon, Kingwood--Jan. 1, '10: So Las Vegas was technically my first race after my back surgery, but that was walking. This Texas Half Marathon was really my first. The accident was May, the surgery was June, I started running again in August, and now here I was on New Year's Day at a starting line. Kinda scary, but my doctor had reassured me that as long as I wasn't having any symptoms, I could run to my heart's content. The tire (disc) was already flat; no more air (disc material) was going to come out. 1:46:36. Ugh, I had lost a lot of speed. Why does running have to be so unforgiving? Rather disheartening to have all of my hard running work, along with 60 straight days of Bikram, ripped away from me. This race might be where I lost my mojo: New Year's Day, early morning, alone driving, freezing outside, leaving my warm bed to go run up and down a sidewalk trail (how this race is set up), huffing and puffing, hearing a new voice inside, asking, "Why?"

San Diego Marathon--June, '10: San Diego was my goal of running a marathon one year after back surgery. And it all went fine. 3:49. I brought back my Galloway walk breaks to help me do it. But I was hoping this accomplishment would return me to the nest of runners who love to race and to train and to feel the challenge. It didn't. What was I going to do? Picture: early morning before Chad has to drive me yet again to another starting line. See him? Who do you think the title of this blog post series is about?

Stay tuned in a few weeks for Waiting for the End--Part 2: Triathlon Desperation.