Boston Marathon

Last Monday, I spent my first hour in the office watching the women's finish of the Boston Marathon. A few hours later, I took a brief glance at facebook only to find numerous posts linking to the explosions at the finish line. I was glued to my computer, trying to learn about what had happened, shakened by the random violence on the marathon spectators. Though I didn't know anyone running the race this year, I know many people who's dream it is to get there. And I can't imagine the guilt a runner would feel when their family and friends, who had come to watch them finish, ended up in the hospital instead, or worse. It was shocking; how could this happen to one of America's great institutions.

That same week, 14 people died in a fertilizer plant explosion, 7 died in election protest violence in Venezuela, 2 Richmond teenagers were shot in front of their homes. Probably some ungodly number of people died in countries where war and terrorism are a common occurrence.

At the Boston Marathon, while more than a hundred people were wounded, many severely, very few died. So many fewer than in Newtown, Aurora, Tucson. And yet, our lovely Congress failed to enact meaningful gun-related legislation that same week. Because a background check? God forbid.

I remained glued to the news throughout the release of the photos, the search for the bombers, the killing of the MIT policeman, the grenade launching, the manhunt in Watertown, the blood on the boat. To find one teenager.

I am complicit. We are all complicit. We live in a world where traditional terrorism freaks us out enough to shut down an entire city for an entire day, while more frequent mass shootings appall us, but not enough to do anything about it. Where we fight regulations, the kind that might keep a fertilizer plant from exploding and flattening a town. We are confused.

Last Thursday, I participated in a run for Boston and a candlelight vigil. It was lovely; it was a celebration of running and unity. While I will continue to run marathons, I certainly can't ask anyone to spectate. That's why terrorism is insidious, making us second guess our actions. But are random mass shootings and giant explosions really all that different?

Oakland Marathon Race Report

I was nervous and anxious for about a week before the race. I tried to keep myself busy so I didn't think about it. When I showed up at Inspiration Lunch on Saturday, my coach told me I was breathing awfully shallowly. So that was fun. Day of, I was ready to get it over with:

My pre-season goal had been to finish in 3:55, based on a race equivalency chart from my half marathon PR in October on a similarly hilly course. However, I lost about 3.5 weeks of running due to a mysterious foot ailment everyone thought was a stress fracture, but did not show up in x-rays and eventually went away. Then I got a cold for a few weeks. When I made the mistake of looking at my training logs a couple days before the race, I realized I had averaged only about 2 workouts a week during my training season. Gulp. Only part of this is attributable to my injury and illness; I also just didn't have much commitment. It might be time to take a season off. In addition, because of the injury, I only had 3 "long" runs: 14, 17, and 20 miles.

Anyway, I basically didn't know how fast I could expect to run on race day, and therefore how to pace myself. I knew I wanted somewhere between a 9:09 pace (which would put me just under 4 hours) and a 10:00 pace (which would put me around 4:25 or so). I am super good at pacing myself in half marathons just by how I feel that day, so I figured I would do the same thing. And therefore ignored my coach, who told me to have a 20 mile warm-up run followed by a 10k race. He said the most important thing was to set a goal for the last 10k.

Well, I felt pretty good going out, and was running between the 4:00 and 4:15 pacers. I saw Matt at mile 5, right by our house. The 900 feet of elevation gain is between miles 6-11. I enjoy hills. Turns out I didn't have an over-10:00 mile the first half of the race, despite these hills. Oops. After 11 it is all downhill and then flat.

By mile 12 I was starting to get a little bored. I was having trouble with my nutrition. I was not sure if I was hungry, full, needed more water, needed more salt, or needed nothing. I hit the half-way point in 2:03. I was reassured that I could easily run the second half in 2:27, and thus still feel good about finishing under 4:30. I didn't plan to run that slow of course.

I'd also been feeling a blister since about mile 6. I kept having an inner conversation about whether I should stop at a medical tent to get taped up but never did. Miles 14-16 have no turns and run straight down a boring street in which you go from 34th to 4th and therefore can see with each street sign how far you have left to go. I knew at mile 17 I would be merging with the halfers, see Matt, and see my housemate playing Taiko, and that did give me a little pick me up.

Merging with the half had its downside; I was merging with runners who were slower than I was, so not only did I have to dodge them, I had to avoid being sucked in running at their pace, which was a little challenging at that point in the race. I was thinking I'd like to be done. There were more spectators there and entertainment, which was nice. I finally hit mile 20. I decided that instead of the outrageous 9:00 mile goal I was thinking for the 10k earlier, I would go ahead and shoot for 10:00. I hit 20 miles at 3:09, so this would give me a finish of 4:09, or a 9:30 pace, which I felt good about.

Turns out that didn't go well. Miles 20-23 were rough. I walked a few times, with the excuse of getting food out of my race belt and eating it. Or walking through a water station. It was hard to get started again. Hitting mile 23 was awesome. It's at the beginning of the Lake, near the Finish, so tons of spectators are there and it was full of energy. Matt was there also. I had a momentary feeling of joy, which was soon diminished, as I headed onto the lake path and realized there would be very few spectators the rest of the way. Around mile 24, I stopped to walk again, getting out my last gel packet. I couldn't force it down, although I needed it. Forcing myself to start running was hard again. That mile was also tough as the lane got narrow, and I had to dodge a lot of slower half-ers. I did run into some teammates, which was nice. I knew at mile 25 I would finally have the mental fortitude to pick it up, and I did. I was given an extra surge part way through when the 4:15 sign holder caught up with me - I knew I wanted to beat them. My coach picked me up with .2 to go, which was awesome. And I finally finished at 4:14:11. 

I can't say I had fun at this race, even in the first half. And then I ran a positive split, finishing the first half in 2:03 and the second in 2:11. I couldn't even meet my 10k goal. I ran four of those miles at a pace significantly higher than 10:00. I had trouble keeping it together. Starting at mile 18, all my paces were 9:50 or higher. Perhaps if I had run the first half more prudently, I would have had more fun and more left in the tank in the second half. I guess I'll chalk it up to a learning experience. Even though I am disappointed I couldn't mentally get it together for a 10:00 pace in the last 10k, based on my complete exhaustion and mental confusion at the end of the race, I'm pretty sure I left most, if not all, of it out there.

My friend had told me that she had a time goal for her first marathon, and that while running it she was totally okay with not making it. I didn't believe her, but now I understand. Even by mile 1, I was thinking, I'm running a marathon! Who cares how fast I am. But I do think my desire to meet my goal did push me too fast in the first half.

Here's me with my awesomest spectator at the end, probably 30 minutes later. I still look awfully shell-shocked.

And here's the bib, medal, and the 26.2 and ROCK STAR additions to my TNT collection. Thanks to all of you, I became a rock star by raising $2000 more than my minimum. Thank you so much!!!

When I saw my coach after the race and thanked him for a great season, he proceeded to talk about how 4:14 was great for this course, and after we get my foot all taken care of, I should think about CIM or Chicago, because those are great qualifying courses. Really? Oh Coach...

The problem is, I did get injured this season, but I took time off to let it heal. And I'm sure my super minimum mileage contributed to my relative injury-freeness and my ability to finally successfully run a marathon. To get better I need more mileage, and for me this is often counter-productive.

Also, I have to say, I think half-marathons are more fun. Even if you are trying to PR, the first 10 miles are still quite pleasant, and only the last 2-3 are kind of awful. That's a much better ratio than I experienced in the marathon. I do run some halfs just for fun, without trying to run super-fast, so I guess maybe that is a marathon option as well.

There were definitely a lot of miles during the race where I wished I weren't there, but I'm not as dead set against ever running another one as I thought I might be. The cross country ski marathon (40k) is still the hardest event in which I've participated. I'm still unclear how much of that was due to sickness, but I was on the verge of tears for a long time after that one. It did take me a good 1:30 longer than the marathon though. I still think I should be able to ski faster than I can run.

Here's my stats.

Oak Ness Monster Part Deux

The other day I was discussing Lake Merritt and the Lake Chalet with a colleague, when for some reason I felt it was a good idea to note the existence of an Oak Ness Monster. After telling me I was crazy, said colleague finally agreed that it was indeed a cool art project and maybe it did exist. This prompted me to do a bit of internet searching, at which time I discovered that my previous post about the monster has nearly 300 page views - by far the most I've ever had.

Since the publication of my blog post in March 2011, a UC Berkeley publication contained a serious albeit likely tongue in cheek article about the monster, apparently on the author's last day.

In addition, you can now purchase a t-shirt with a 1940's era representation of the monster.

Of course, the Lake Merritt Institute has been touting the existence of the monster since 2006, but given that they also discuss mermaids in the lake, they really can't be trusted.

In 2008, the Oakland Tribune picked up the story, and the monster was apparently named Merrittzilla in a poll. (I prefer Oak Ness.)

Still, I'm rather flummoxed by the lack of information on this monster. If you do a google image search for the Lake Merritt monster, my picture is one of only three apparent real photos. Why do more people not see this monster? How long does it sit on the bottom of the lake? And most importantly, will it rise from the depths to support me during the Oakland Marathon on the 24th?

***
Have you seen the monster? Please tell me.

Quiet

A friend just lent me the book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. I finished it in two days, which might provide some indication that I am in fact an introvert, since I spent two straight nights curled up with a book instead of speaking to anyone.

I have a feeling that some people who read this will be well aware that I'm an introvert, while some may be shocked. In certain social situations with small groups of people with whom I'm comfortable, I have been known to be loud and obnoxious. At work I'm assertive and out-spoken and have been known not to shy away from trouble no matter the price. (Although I'm being remarkably good at my current job.) I love public-speaking and am good at it, and one of my dream jobs is in stakeholder engagement. I have volunteered to teach classes and enjoyed it.

When I took the Meyers-Briggs test several years ago, I rated I/E, or an ambivert, but the four-letter description with I was way more apropos than the four-letter description with E. 

My biggest introversion? Meeting new people without a well-defined role. I would never go to a party alone, and when I do go, I am liable to only talk to the few people I already know. When I participate in Team in Training, I love to be a mentor, because then I have a job to do that requires me to talk to people, so I don't have to figure out how to socialize on my own. Networking? Forget it. How do you walk up to a group of people and insert yourself in an ongoing conversation without seeming like a weird lurker? I have no idea. I collect very few business cards and give away even fewer.

My favorite conference is the ACEEE Summer Study on Energy Efficiency in Buildings. Besides its amazing location at the beach in Asilomar and the amazing range of fascinating topics, everyone eats meals in a huge dining hall at round tables. And it is not uncommon for people, like me, to go in by themselves and be seated at random. I have a feeling this situation still might be difficult for some introverts, but for me it's perfect - I have a reason to talk to people - we're trapped at the same table. In fact, this is how I got my current job - I happened to be seated next to the director of the energy technologies division at LBNL, we discussed our shared interests in energy and water, and we exchanged cards. When I emailed him later, he passed my info on to someone else, who passed it on one more time, and suddenly I had an interview and a job offer. The problem with this version of networking? It's the luck of the draw. I mean, I could get seated next to someone like me, who doesn't have much cachet in the world.

My next biggest introverted tendency? Fear of small talk. I ride the lab shuttle to and from work nearly every day. A few other people in my building ride the same shuttle, and I know them. Every day, we each sit in our own seats in the shuttle. Then when we arrive at the lab, we walk into work together and chat on the short walk. I can handle this few minutes of chatting. But being trapped next to someone on the shuttle for 20 minutes and having to engage in conversation without awkward silence? That's anxiety-inducing for sure. And these are nice, friendly people. I'm not entirely sure if they are introverted as well, or if they are just respecting my obvious introversion. I often prefer hanging out in small groups instead of one-on-one so that there is less pressure on me to keep the conversation going. Obviously with some people this is no problem, but having back-up is often fabulous.

I'm also very threat-oriented instead of reward-oriented. I abhor criticism, even of the constructive variety, I worry about making mistakes, I worry about people being angry at me. I refuse to participate in the stock market.

I rarely talked in class and thought that most be who did were full of B.S. and just liked to hear their own voices.

And finally, my introversion produces a need for downtime. I can be exhausted by certain social situations. I actually feel as though I am getting better at this over the years, but it might just be that I have so much downtime built into my schedule now. I am a pretty good homebody, so I have plenty of time for recharging.

***

Cain talks about how some introverts are able to basically meld them into someone else to be extroverts in certain situations, and how having special projects that you care about makes it easier to take on this role. I am not sure if I just happen to have extroverted tendencies in key areas that help me deal with a world that loves extroverts, or if I've just conditioned myself over the years.

Cain notes that shyness and introversion are not necessarily the same thing, but for me they are very related. Until I was 16, I was often painfully shy in school, except with my groups of friends or basketball teams. I remember one incident in the bathroom of high school, which at lunch time was always so full of girls doing their make-up that it was nearly impossible to wash one's hands. After trying to wriggle in to the sink without having to talk to anyone, some girls started making fun of me. I realized I needed to be more assertive. We moved to a new town that summer, and I was able to sort of reinvent myself. Maybe that helped spurred my collection of some extroverted tendencies. Nature vs. nurture - that's discussed in the book as well, of course without any real answers.

After reading the book, I actually feel as though I am doing pretty well in the world of extroverts. I could certainly learn from some of the tips, such as how to use my introversion to be a good negotiator. (I am a terrible negotiator and have a lot of difficulty selling myself, especially in places that aren't meritocracies.) There are also great sections on how to deal with relationships between extroverts and introverts and how to deal with introverted kids.

One of the things that interested me was in the discussion questions at the end, when it asked who you know who is an introvert. I realize that I have no idea. I have several guesses. But when I think about people I know, I have a lot of trouble determining whether they are introverts. Maybe this is part of my extroverted tendencies - to not reflect on every little thing. Perhaps I'm not observant. I don't know.

Are you an introvert? (Take the quiz.) Have you read this book? How do you feel about introversion? Do you feel discriminated against? Have you made changes to help you succeed in the extroverted world we live in?

Drinking in the Garden

Just under two years ago, I had accepted a job at Lawrence Berkeley National Lab and discovered that the commute from San Francisco was easily 1.25 hours each way. Matt and I set off on a rapid apartment search, exploring areas in the East Bay close to BART. One day we went to check-out an in-law unit in Rockridge. The walk-out basement opened to a beautifully maintained, gorgeous garden and patio. We were in love. We chatted with the lovely landlady who lived upstairs and hit it off immediately. We were a little worried that she might be a crazy landlady with a lot of rules, but we decided it was worth it. She claimed that we got the apartment because she liked us best, but my guess is that no one else had committed yet.

Well, we were right. She was a little crazy and had a lot of rules, but she was also fascinating, generous, and welcoming. She frequently brought us delightful food - extras from lunch or dinner, or part of the fancy dessert she had picked up for an occasion. I had worried about living with a landlady in such close proximity, but it turned out to be kind of like having a delightful grandmother upstairs. She told hilarious stories, brought down bottles of wine to share when we were out on the patio - which is how I learned one day that working from home was not so viable.

One day in late October she came downstairs and asked us to take her to the Emergency Room. Matt took her and I planned to meet them there, but she told him to just drop her off. When Matt picked her up later, we learned she had been diagnosed with lung cancer. I can't imagine going to the ER by myself and receiving a cancer diagnosis. The next day she came down for pumpkin carving, plying us with wine and chips. She remained extremely positive and cheerful, going to endless doctor's appointments and having numerous tests done. She ended up with pneumonia at one point; I ran into her in the driveway as she came home from the doctor, and it was the only time I ever saw her look exhausted and a bit downtrodden.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, she was downstairs telling us hilarious stories about how she had gotten her oncologist's notes and was trying to decipher them. She thought he had written that she was "a lonely old woman" and could not understand why he thought she was lonely. She then later figured out he had actually written that she was "a lovely old woman." She didn't seem to be sure that that was a better assessment.

On December 4th she learned she would be having lung surgery the following week. She wrote us an email saying, "I may be gone (but not dead ) and will be at the hospital...Then, I may start chemo, will be a little weak but look forward to be on the road to recovery. Thank you for being generous, patient and understanding." Always thinking of her burden on us and focusing on the good.

On December 12th she underwent successful lung surgery. On December 14th, when a housemate called the hospital to see about us going to visit, we learned that the night before she had suffered a massive stroke. She had been moved to the ICU and we were not to visit yet. She was at first minimally responsive, but then stopped opening her eyes. I went to visit this week with another housemate. We told her stories and chatted to each other; read her mail and gossip magazines.

Today, her daughter is bringing her home for hospice care, to be surrounded by her beautiful flowers and music. She is just 66 years old. 

***

I wrote this post a week ago, the day she came home, in an attempt at catharsis. Yesterday, our lovely landlady passed away. It is so strange to be in the house she loved without her, looking at the garden she loved even more. It has been just two months since her diagnosis, less than a month since she was putting winky faces in emails related to an outcome that if she suspected or feared, she certainly never let on.

The Training Log Resumes

About two of you probably remember that back in early 2011, I began chronicling my training for the Big Sur Marathon over at Alison's Training Log. Well, now that I'm back, I've decided to resume the training log. Most training programs recommend keeping a training log and diary so that you can learn what works and doesn't work for you, and in particular for my case, how you become injured. In fact, as I reviewed my 2011 training log, I remember things I'd completely forgotten, like how my left arch was causing me problems back then. I had only remembered my right toe.

So anyway, I'll be starting the log back up in case you're interested. I was hoping to find a more useful platform than a blog, where I could see my workout stats as well as my entries in more of a calendar format, but I guess I'll just have to go with this for now. Let me know if you have recommendations for something else.

Meanwhile, after looking through some training plans and my old training log, I've become paranoid that I will once again get injured before the marathon. I have four months to go. I'm already at half marathon distance, so I will be maintaining fairly high mileage (for me), for the whole four months. I worry that my body can't handle it. I start thinking that maybe I should find an earlier marathon and get it out of the way while I'm still healthy even if it means I'm undertrained. After all, the TNT program only calls for two long runs longer than a half marathon: 14-16 mile and 17-20 mile. Maybe I should just go knock a couple of those out over the next month, and get a marathon over with. Or maybe I should calm down and follow the program until the end of March. Maybe if I keep up with rolling and core work and strength (hah), I will have a better outcome.

Isn't exercise supposed to help you manage your stress rather than cause anxiety?

Xterra Trail Half Marathon World Championships Race Report

In January 2011, Matt and I were in Oahu on vacation, taking a movie sites tour at Kualoa Ranch. It was amazingly beautiful. The tour guide mentioned that they had just held a half marathon on site in December. I immediately knew it was a race I had to do. The ranch is private, so you just can't go out and run it anytime you want to. I made a vow to come back.

It didn't happen in 2011, but we made it out this year, 2012. I booked frequent flyer tickets way back in April. I love Hawaii, so we weren't going just for the race, but the timing did revolve around it.

Here we are before the start. A group called Team XTREME parachuted in with a wounded warrior and his wife. It was pretty awesome. It was quite windy at the time, and the parachute with the wounded warrior actually missed the landing area, flew over the restrooms, and then I'm not sure what happened. They did emerge later, but when we went to look, it seems they must have ended up in a farming area.

 Some of the beautiful scenery at the start:

 The area where the parachutist seems to have landed:

 Here we are, taking off. I really must work on keeping my arms at 90 degrees and not overstriding.

At about mile 2, I ran into a queue at some single track and decided to get out my phone and take some pictures. I think all the rest are in reverse order:

Nearly finished!

And finished! (Wearing my Komen shirt. I realized about half way through the race that I was wearing it and spent awhile stressing about the fact that people would be thinking I was a terrible person. For the record, I participated in their Marathon for the Cure program in honor of my mother prior to the Planned Parenthood fiasco. The shirt was so filthy following the race that I trashed it.)

It was amazing course. So beautiful - but hard to look around too much because of the various rocks and roots all over the place. Nearly the entire course was rolling hills. I had thought we were going to the top of the cliffs, but it turns out there were just a lot of ups and downs, and we went through a pass to go between valleys. The course claims to have 2900 feet of elevation gain. I uploaded my gps data to various websites that show between 2000 and 3000 so I am not sure what to believe. I kind of think 3000 might be high because when I ran 10.5 miles and 2000 feet at Usery is took me 2:15 and this only took me 2:26. It is hard to know if I did much better than I expected or if the elevation gain just wasn't as much as claimed. How does one learn the truth?

Overall, I was a bit disappointed that it didn't rain during the event (I mean CIM got a downpour and the North Face Endurance Challenge half marathon was cancelled that same day). Trail running in the rain in a jungle would be super fun and up the bad ass factor so much. (I'll pretend I wasn't freaking out the night before the race about reading the description of the 1/4 mile descent involving ropes and thinking how treacherous it would be with water cascading down the mountain.) I was also disappointed that the course didn't actually go to the top of the mountains. However, I had a great time, and I wasn't even that sore afterwards. I can't say I trained a whole heck of a lot for that kind of elevation gain, so I'm guessing the lack of pounding on asphalt just makes a difference in that regard.

I previously thought that I wouldn't enjoy trail running as much because I hate to stop running in the middle of a race. But I really didn't mind walking up some of the hills (along with everybody else) - it was a welcome reprieve when I felt my legs could carry me no further otherwise. I also had to settle my pace during a lot of the single track (including walking) because it was have been rather douchey to try to pass people. We only let the 10K leaders pass. At one point a runner behind me told his buddies that he was enjoying the nice, casual pace we were doing. The last mile when the field finally opened up, I picked off some people, but even so, I felt as if I could only take teeny tiny steps, so I'm guessing that my slow paces earlier in the race probably helped me rather than hurt me. I'm pretty pleased with my time given all the elevation gain.

I highly recommend this race - so beautiful! Maybe not great if you are trying to PR because of the queues in the single track, but a great opportunity to get a unique view of some outstanding scenery.

***
Also, I totally failed to note that this race had a photo finish. They could not decide who won, so they awarded a tie for first place. I find it so crazy that after more than an hour, two people can finish at exactly the same time. I wish I'd been there to see that. (Hah.) Incidentally, one of the guys had apparently run off-course more than once...