Best!!

Quick update ... ran a personal best at Big Sur a week ago: 4:05:55. That's about 8 minutes faster than I finished last year's race and about five minutes better than my last best (Seattle Marathon).

Sonja and I ran in skirts (photos to follow) and she had a great run also. Audrey killed the 10.6 mile "walk" with her blistering 8-minute mile pace.

Afterward we indulged in fancy coffees, followed by soda and burgers at the beach. The night was capped with cheesecake in bed (thanks Jim!). I could continue listing all of the delicious treats we scarfed down the next couple of days -- we definitely run to eat -- but the menu is what you'd expect, just a ton of food.

I know it would make sense to take a break now, but why? The drizzly weather is perfect for breaking in my new trail shoes and there are some great runs coming up around here. I'm thinking this trail race in two weeks, even though it's the morning after my first triathon.

Countdown!

The Big Sur Marathon is this weekend. Sunday. Less than three days away. Yipes!

People are asking one big question at this point: Are you ready? Answer: I don't know.

How can you know? I did my long runs, capping things off with a 19-mile, 3-hour run about three weeks back. I did sit ups, lunges and push ups, ran some mornings, rode my bike, even swam a bit. I ran hills. I stretched. I ate (mostly) healthy and didn't drink (too much). So probably, yes, I'm ready. And if I'm not, oh well. I'll be at the start like at 6:45 a.m. regardless.

Preparation is obviously key, but out there on the highway for that many miles, anything can happen. Heat, wet fog or the slope of the road can really wreck things fast. Dehydration is a fear. Eating enough so as not to run out of energy (literally) is something to monitor.

But it's also not THAT far (four-ish hours). A person can survive a lot and still have a good race. My last marathon (Seattle, November) I went out too fast and walked all of the hills at the end. A 10-year-old girl beat me, but I still ran a personal best. The first time I ran Big Sur (2007) I pulled off to the side and pooped in some bushes, but ended up having a great race and besting my previous time. At the end of several runs (marathons and long trail races) my feet have been blistered and chewed up to the point where I couldn't walk correctly for weeks. I almost always loose a nail from a big toe.

Without a doubt, running a marathon hurts. Only the most fittest, crazy people (who don't have day jobs) can pound out a hard 26.2 miles and feel breezy the next day. Sonja and I (and most of those other folks out there Sunday morning) will be sore and tired for days. We might curse the race and the pain, swear to never do it again.

But realistically, I probably won't run again for just a week or two. Then I'll pick up a new pair of shoes and work back into long runs on serene trails. The agony of those last few marathon miles will fade and I'll start scanning Web sites of other marathons and endurance events to pick my next big thing. Then the cycle -- build, speed, build more, taper, race, rest -- will start all over again. Hopefully my toenails will be back by then.

Marathon results next week!

Let's hope it's not foreshadowing

Maybe I haven't been running enough or perhaps I'm just too tired lately, but I've had a few really odd dreams the past couple of nights. In one, Callie bit someone in the face and we had to run away so she wouldn't have to be put down ... but that's not running-related.

The running nightmare was Big Sur. Yup, the marathon. The race that I consider MY marathon, that I'm set to run in oh, eight weeks.

There were lots of discrepancies in the dream, which give me hope that it wasn't some strange foreshadowing and actually just stress-induced. For example, I took long bathroom breaks in areas that looked a whole lot like Nisene Marks (a state park around here), not Big Sur. My sister was running the marathon with me, but in reality she's registered for the 10.6 mile race.

However, the end picture was still hard to shake off: me, sobbing. I was devastated because I'd run my slowest marathon time ever. It was something like 4:26, which isn't a time to sneer at, especially over the challenging hills of Big Sur. However, it's not the time I want to see when I trip across the finish line and awkwardly hug one of the greeters. Low-balling it, 4 hours would be cool.


(Sonja and I after last year's Big Sur Marathon)

I'm pretty sure I can chalk the dream (nightmare) up to fretting about not running enough in the past few days. I took three rest days this week and the blank spots in my running log (laying open on my nightstand) are looming large as a result. But the reality was life - namely work - got busy and I was tired. I ran this morning, will bike and run tomorrow, then swim and get in my first really long run Sunday. (Let's hope the iPod holds out for 2 1/2 hours!)

As a 7th grader, my favorite shirt was a purple T emblazoned with "Life is Running" and a big blue and white running shoe. Maybe that was true then, when the biggest drains on my time were English homework and staying up all night to watch MTV at a slumber party. Now I'm an adult (yipes!) with a 9-5 ... errr ... 8:30-7 job, a house to maintain, dog to take care of, among other things. I wish my life could be all training, but workouts have to fit around my grown-up responsibilities.

I think the eight weeks between now and the marathon are an eternity for training. I have a strong base, am biking and swimming also and will start logging those big miles this weekend. Although I haven't had a bad marathon in my four outings thus far, I'm crossing my fingers - and lacing up my shoes - so hopefully this won't be my time to tank. Maybe dreams don't come true?

On training ...

With just over 10 weeks until the Big Sur Marathon my mind alternates between thoughts of those relaxing, long runs I get to log in the coming weeks (and all of the fun music I can listen to, trees I can count and tasty coffee I can drink after) and anxiety that the race is less than three months away. Yipes!

But I feel pretty lucky. Of the three of us who are reuniting to run, my training situation is the most ideal. Nervous energy aside, my biggest hurdles are rain - mostly because it turns the trails into slicks of mud - and work, which sometimes lasts so long my only wants are a bowl of mac'n'cheese and spot to curl up on my couch.

For Sonja, my college friend who is now a sheriff's deputy outside of Yellowstone, my weather complaints sound trite. Yesterday she ran in snow that had fallen over ice. Not so bad on the way up, she reported, but pretty sketchy on the downhill side. Then there is the wind - sometimes blasting so hard it flips loaded-down big-rigs on the highway - and the cold. When we were home for winter break during college, Sonja called to say it was so cold and dry out, her hands cracked and bled on her run. I suggested she wear gloves next time. She had worn two pairs.

So a little rain around here is no pain. And a "cold" morning like today's mid-30s, while a little miserable for those of us used to running in shorts year-round, is really not that harsh.

My sister, Audrey, also faces environmental concerns while training. She's living in rural Guatemala where, generally speaking, people don't run. Audrey has become somewhat of a spectacle because of this, which may not be the best thing. Sure, it's cute when little kids try to run with her, but it's distracting. There are also more serious safety issues at times, like rabid dogs chasing you. Here in the States, there are places and times when we know (especially women) to not go running alone, but broad daylight in a forested area seems pretty OK (at least to me). That's not true everywhere, which makes sense but it still disappointing.


Me and Audrey after a run through Mayan ruins in Tikal, Guatemala, in December. We're trying to look "Mayan."

Her experiences remind me to not take for granted the freedom to run and roam that I have in Santa Cruz. For one, least animal attacks are usually out of the picture. But it is important to remember that bad things can happen. I've gotten lost and been injured while out running alone. Two winters ago, a woman jogging on West Cliff was attacked by a mentally ill man. So some safety precautions are important. I like to tell someone where I'm running and give a time when I will call to say I'm done. When it's dark in the early morning or evening, I run with my giant dog.

Audrey doesn't have these options, but she's coping. She has modified her training, learned some common-sense safety devices that are actually pretty good for women running alone anywhere (run a loop course instead of an out-and-back, for example) and embraced her access to a treadmill.

So come April 26, Audrey will be here to run the 10.6-mile race at Big Sur, where she won't need to carry a stick to beat off a pack of dogs. Sonja, should she survive the snowstorms, will run the marathon as well. Let's hope she doesn't get heat exhaustion. And me? I will have no excuses. I get to train in paradise.

Ready, set, go!

Today I registered for the Big Sur marathon. That seems like a good-as-any hook for the start the running blog I've been itching to write for months.

Running has been my thing for as long as I can remember. A solid pair of waffle-soled shoes, a T-shirt and some too-short-to-be-cool shorts were essentially my uniform as a child (add a hooded sweatshirt in the winters) and remain my most-comfortable outfit. When I'm bored, I write training plans in the margins of my calendar, calculate mile paces in my head or map out new runs. I don't leave home without a water bottle.

Big Sur will be my fifth marathon, and the third time I've run the breath-taking course north up Highway 1. When I ran Big Sur in 2006, I was terrified. The hills were daunting, the distance still a shock and I only hoped I could finish. Last year I trained alone to see if I had the mental toughness to run so far on my own. The race fell on my 27th birthday (perfectly enough, April 27th), my college running friend Sonja also ran the race and my parents came to watch both of us.

This time around, I was already worried about a lack of motivation even though the race weekend is shaping up to be great gathering. Sonja is coming from Montana again to run with me. Even my sister, a Peace Corps volunteer in Guatemala, is coming to run (she will be in the 10.6- or 9-mile race) before we drive up to Oregon to see our family. Still, I couldn't get amped up to train. The thought of sacrificing more days for three-hour runs or getting up in the pre-dawn hours to crank out five miles before work drained me.

But in my 20-plus years of running and racing, I've learned three important things about how I run:
1. It makes me happy. Once I get past that initial challenge of hitting the road, I'm bound to enjoy myself and be cheerier. And if I don't head out the door, nothing else will bring me that same happiness.
2. It gets easier the second, third and fourth times. For many runners, the very act of exercise is addicting. I'm one of them.
3. When all else fails, sign up for a race. That clock over the finish line will hold you accountable, more than a running partner or coach or even yourself will. Therefore, a race date looming in front of you is the supreme motivator.

I ran 10 miles Saturday morning. Today, I paid my $135 bucks to sign up for the marathon. I even ordered a Big Sur hoodie, so I can snuggle up to the thought of the two-mile summit of Hurricane Point, the camber of highway as you come to those last few rolling hills outside of Carmel or that goofy sign right before the finish that announces "D-Minor Hill at D-Major Time."

D'its time!