Amy Lu's View

It’s been 4 weeks since I ran Grandma’s Marathon. According to popular running wisdom, it takes a day for each mile you run in a race to recover from a race, so I should now be officially recovered from Grandma’s.

Turns out, there isn’t much science behind this claim or research into marathon recovery. “Recovery” is also a complex and somewhat nebulous idea. Recovery does not mean that you don’t run at all, and it’s often compared to a period of tapering in reverse. I have been running these last four weeks, but not too much or too strenuously.

I’m not sure yet if I feel fully physically recovered from Grandma’s. I feel fine for all daily physical activities but I’m definitely running way more slowly that I was before Grandma’s. I just can’t tell if this is because I’m not recovered, or I’ve lost some running mo-jo over the last month, or because it’s been so damn hot (and I suck at getting up early to run).

My slowness is probably a perfectly normal combination of the above three factors, but it’s starting to freak me out a bit. Which leads me to ponder the more intangible aspects of recovery: the mental and emotional. This dimension of recovery is complicated by my plan to race the Twin Cities Marathon which is now twelve weeks away.

 

 

The good news is having this new goal lessens the post-Grandma’s letdown (that sadness that comes after the completion, no matter how successful, of any Big Thing). The bad news is that I am not on track with my training program for the TCM yet and I’m not sure when I should be concerned about that.

I’m trying to be patient and sensible and not push myself too soon. I’m trying to have faith in the process of training and recovery and believe that my body will get back to where I want it to be so that I can run a successful Twin Cities Marathon. And I’m trying to be open to redefining success in a year when I run two marathons.

Another component of emotional and mental, and even spiritual marathon recovery, is trying to fully process the lessons I learned from Grandma’s. Besides the “lessons” I previously explored about beating a fit young shirtless guy and post-race drinking and celebrating with Chad, I’ve been thinking about the lessons I learned about my race strategy.

The biggest difference between my first and second marathons is that with Grandma’s I didn’t worry as much about making sure I had enough energy to finish, so I ran faster during the first half of the race. I was still careful not to get out of control, but I was pretty confident that I would be able to finish so I didn’t worry about pace too much. I just made sure I didn’t let my heart rate get too high.

I think this approach accounted for my faster performance and most of the 13 minutes I shaved off from my Twin Cities completion time. (I was probably also in a little better shape and the course was a little easier). I did slow down significantly starting with mile 21 (no negative splits for me) but I wasn’t that much slower at the end of Grandma’s than I was at the end of the TCM. I think I felt more drained at the end of Grandma’s, (definitely more nauseous) but I didn’t have any injuries and my level of muscle fatigue was about the same.

I do need to give some serious thought to my fueling and hydrating strategy during a race. Unlike the rest of my life, I really hate taking in nourishment while running. Logistically, it’s just a pain the ass, as I hate carrying food and gels and whatnot and fumbling with them while running.  I also hate slowing down for and navigating water stops. (I wonder if this is how Chad feels about the need for daily nourishment?)

In addtion to the hassles, when I’ve been running for a long time, consuming water and gels, etc., starts making me feel queasy (yes, I’ve tried various different gels so I don’t think it’s because of any particular product). But part of my nausea and decreased speed are probably caused by not taking in enough water and calories earlier in the race. (Part of it is most definitely caused by running a stupid distance of miles).

As my official period of marathon recovery ends and I can no longer reasonably use recovery as an excuse for any poor physical, emotional, or intellectual performance, one thing is clear to me: it will be a long time before I recover from wanting to blog (and brag) about running.

Collaborating in the process of bringing a play to life on the stage always involves a journey of self-discovery.

During my involvement in Applause Community Theater’s recent production, “4 One-Act Plays by 3 Local Playwrights + One Guy From Montana,” I made this surprising, in fact I’ll go far as to say shocking, discovery: our blender doesn’t have a bottom.

Neither Chad or I have any idea what happened to the bottom of our blender and we’re still mystified about where it went. It seems highly unlikey that a thief would have broken into our home and only stolen the bottom of our blender. Although perhaps it is possible that said thief actually stole other very targeted objects that we just haven’t noticed are missing yet. Afterall, if the missing blender bottom escaped our attention, what other domestic appliance absences have we been oblivous to? Chad only noticed that the blender bottom was missing when I relocated it from our kitchen counter to the theater so it could be used as a prop. I suspect the blender bottom has been missing for years.

Clearly, we don’t use our blender very often. This isn’t surprising because I am morally opposed to drinking my calories unless they contain alcohol. And yes, I realize that there are many blended alcoholic drinks, but those are all sweet and high caloric drinks. I also realize you can make actual food in a blender (soups and whatnot) but I’m still dubious about how many calories are going to sneak up on me if there is no chewing involved.

And let’s face it, in my current manifestation of Amy-ness,  I am just not choosing to make the time or take the effort to use a blender. I’m not ruling out that this could change. I could shift my priorities, learn something new, let go of some old fears and neuroses.

I really didn’t intend this post to be all about blenders (sometimes you just have to follow your artistic muse where it leads you). I  still want to at least touch on another life-changing lesson I learned from the one-acts: It’s really fun playing a horrible person. Or more specifically, it’s extremely fun to play a horrible person who gets to wear a sexy red dress and act brazen and bold and flirt and fight on-stage with her husband who is playing an equally horrible person.

My character, Stacy, was such a terrible person that I got one of the best compliments about my acting ever:

“I didn’t like one single thing about you, except for how you looked in that red dress.”

I also learned that no matter how awful a character seems, you need to look below the surface and try to see things from their point of view. You have to try and understand and empathize with a character to convincingly play them as real and believable (even over-the-top characters). I’m sure this has merit in the real world, too…only through empathy can we have real interactions with other people.

And we can usually find some points of agreement, right? I didn’t spend too much time developing Stacy’s backstory, but I bet she would totally be with me on the blender issue.

 

….but it was mine! Yes mine, and the 6097 other people who ran Grandma’s Marathon from Two Harbors to Duluth on June 16. This was my first ever Grandma’s Marathon and my second marathon (my first was the Twin Cities Marathon in October of last year).

This morning I realized that one of those 6097 other Marathon participants was an extremely fit (and good-looking) young man and that I finished the marathon faster than he did. I promise I’m not trying to throw shade (as my brother would inappropriately say) on this young man, but just to bask in the glory of my accomplishment by using his performance as a measure.

I learned about this fellow-marathoner as I spent the morning looking through the official marathon photos and trying to decide if the photos of me were worth the outrageous price (yes, I know, professional marathon photographers gotta eat, too). I soon saw that another runner was prominently featured in many of my finish-line photos. Now, normally, I would be a little annoyed about other runners stealing my photo-thunder, but, well, this guy was pretty ripped (and shirtless).

Once I moved past that initial observation, I couldn’t imagine how he would have finished the marathon around the same time as me. So yeah, I looked up his results (I could see his bib number in the photos) and discovered I actually finished 5 minutes faster than he did.

(Big digression…if you’re wondering how we crossed the finish line at the same time but my completion time was faster, I started the marathon almost 9 minutes “late” because I had to wait so long for a port-a-potty. Yes, that’s my only complaint about Grandma’s Marathon…not enough port-a-potties! Luckily, the clock doesn’t start running on your time until you cross the start line. Still waiting for a port-a-potty was really stressful and not a great way to start a race. Luckily, I didn’t need a port-a-potty during the race).

Now Chad did explain to me that it actually made sense that I would run the marathon faster than a very muscular guy (who I also learned through my results-stalking is 23). Muscles simply weigh a lot, so this guy just had a lot more mass to move for 26.2 miles than I did. (And he may have been recovering from an injury or illness, or not have had much time for training, or a million other variables could have affected his performance).

I guess that illustrates the power of science: explaining how a moderately fit 48-year-old-lady can run a marathon faster than a really fit (and did I mention good-looking and shirtless) 23-year-old dude. And don’t get me wrong, still a wonderful accomplishment for both of us, and ALL the other 6096 finishers.

Perhaps it’s more inexplicable that I didn’t notice this guy during the race. Actually, that makes perfect sense, too…not only am I a pretty self-absorbed runner usually lost in my own head, I was quite spent by the end of the race. I didn’t have any specific pain or injuries, but I hit (or at least patted) “The Wall” at about mile 23. I finished Grandma’s in 4:02:48, about 13 minutes faster than it took me to run the Twin Cities Marathon (which, yes, I am extremely proud of and happy about) and I could definitely feel the difference between how tired I was at the end of each marathon.

So I was oblivious to the young hot shirtless guy I was running next to, but I did find the sexy, amazing man who was waiting for me at the finish line. Chad finished Grandma’s about half an hour before me (with an awesome time of 3:35:11) and gave me my medal.

The end of the race and the rest of the day is a blur of fuzzy but lovely memories. Chad and I hugged, I think we kissed, we had our photo taken, I complained about how I couldn’t use my hands because they were numb (cold? weird circulation? tension?) and I complained about how I felt like puking, we got some post-race food (bananas, bagels, etc.) and drinks (beer and cider), listened to the post-race band, spent way too much money on Grandma’s merchandise (including a super-cute stuffed hare…get it? we were fast!), and ended up at Vikre distillery to drink in earnest. (We didn’t eat real food until several hours later but, hey, priorities).

We were exhausted, and proud, and vulnerable, and teary, and beaming, and basking in the glow of the wonder of the day and each other. (And obviously, we were drunk).

And THAT was my Grandma’s Marathon.

 

 

When I first saw the phrase “Nevertheless, she persisted” floating around Facebook last year, I assumed it was a Jane Austen quote that I didn’t know. I’m sure there are many Jane Austen quotes I don’t know, as I don’t know any, but as a librarian, I have many literate Facebook friends who love Jane Austen so that’s the conclusion I jumped to.

Many months later, it’s become one of my favorite inspirational running quotes. Although I’m not trying to equate running a long distance race with being a U.S. Senator standing up for women’s rights, I don’t think Elizabeth Warren (or even Jane Austen) would mind.

Since it’s just a little over two days until Chad and I attempt to complete Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth and I’m riddled with anxieties, now seems like a good time to fall back on this cherished slogan.

Yes, I’m always nervous before a race, and that’s part of the fun, but this time I’m dealing with some unique concerns beyond the typical ones. (These include “Am I eating the right amount of carbs?” “Will I get enough sleep” and the classic, “Will I be able to poop at the right time, in the right place?”)

So what are the special 2018 Grandma’s Marathon fears that I must persist against/over/in spite of (geez, what is the proper prepositional phrase)?

Three special fears I have just for Grandma’s Marathon:

• We’re not properly trained. We trained for a marathon that was supposed to be 3 weeks ago, and ended up running a half marathon isntead. This means we’ve been in this weird half marathon recovery/marathon tapering phase for the last 3 weeks (we decided it was better to avoid overtraining and injury). This doesn’t mean that we haven’t been running, but by the time we start Grandman’s, there will be a 6 week gap between that and our last really long (22ish mile) run. We’re still in reasonably fine shape so maybe it won’t be a big deal, or maybe it will turn out that marathon training weeks are like dog years (or something) and 6 weeks is like 6 years. I know I’m definitely suffering from a lack of confidence because it feels like soo long since I did a really long run.
• We’re going to blow away in a storm during the marathon. Again, worrying about the weather is not unique (especially since the last marathon we attempted to do was cancelled because of extreme heat). But not only am I worried that it will rain during most, if not all of, the marathon (potentially causing slipping, chafing, and just overall miserableness) but the forecast actually calls for thunderstorms. I’m just a smidgen away from being terrified of storms, and it’s going to be hard to run if I’m hyperventilating or hiding in a ditch. It’s even possible that this marathon will get cancelled if the weather is deemed too dangerous.
• I’m going to be mentally and physically drained by my bouts of vertigo. In the last week, I’ve started experiencing vertigo. It’s completely benign, but extremely annoying (it presents as wicked bed spins—long, intense, and nausea-inducing—even worse than anything I experienced during my college days). I’m not (really) worried that I’m going to have vertigo during the marathon (I’ve only had 4 episodes) and when it’s done, it’s done, but it has disrupted my sleep and just general ability to get things done. How can I be mentally and spiritually prepared for the marathon if I’ve lost sleep and time that I needed to spend blogging and facebooking?

I don’t know how these fears compare to Mitch McConnell, but none of them are pretty. Nevertheless, I will persist! I will think positively and “enjoy” the marathon. And hey, if I’m picked up by a tornado, I probably won’t notice any vertigo and it could give me a hell of a tailwind. (Look at that positivity in action!)

It’s Global Running Day, and I’m not running today.

This feels a little wrong, but it’s my regularly scheduled rest and recovery day. I definitely need this respite between a half marathon and a an upcoming full marathon and after a night of a vertigo attack (yes, dramatic but I like it).

Plus, not running gives more time to think, and write, about running.

To misapproriate a quote, “All I Really Need to Know About Running I Learned in the Girls on the Run 5K.” I recently got to be an adult “running buddy” for Abby, an awesome 4th grader, and this experience certainly gave me much inspirational pondering and writing fodder.

Girls on the Run is an amazing organization that “…inspires girls to take charge of their lives and define the future on their terms” with an emphasis on healthy movement.

That’s pretty good advice for women, girls, and people, of all ages.

In regards to running, the philosophy of the 5K (I’m paraphrasing) was “Do your best, have fun, and feel good!” Also a really good perspective on life and running.  I especially need this perspective for the upcoming Grandma’s Marathon as I’m freaking out about my interupted training plan and possible vertigo episodes.

Of course, “best,” “fun” and “good” have layers of meaning and will look pretty different for me as a 48-year-old doing a marathon, but the underlying principles are the same. I need to keep the bigger picture in mind and be thankful for what I can do, appreciate the unique experience of the run, and not get too wrapped up in my performance stats.

The Girls on the Run 5K also gave me the most inspriational finishing line experience ever.

Abby ran (mostly walking with bouts of sprinting) the whole race with her friend, who started lagging at the finish. As we approached the finish, Abby ran back, grabbed her friend’s hand and my hand, and her friend grabbed her running buddy’s hand, and all four of us crossed the finish line together holding hands.

Yes, your heart should have just exploded in an overdose of inspirational cuteness.

And yes, I definitely have some room for growth when it comes to basking in the community of my fellow runners and celebrating the success of others. I may be a titch competitive, and can really learn from Abby’s example of friendship and support. I’m so thankful that I have my Facebook running group to let me bask in the inspiration and support of others and to practice my community-building muscles.

Chad and I actually did finish a half marathon (The Get in Gear) together holding hands…and a spectating dude yelled out, “You know, one of you is still going to win.”

We would definitely all win if we tried to live up to the example of 4th grade girls.

What did it feel like to run the fastest race in my life, at a pace much faster than I ever thought possible?

I’d like to say it felt as awesome as it looks like it felt to me in this picture.

I’d like to say that I felt strong and powerful and mighty and just plain good. And that’s all true to an extent, but what I remember most is a feeling of disbelief as I crossed the finished line, just thinking “Holy sh#t I’m really going to do this.” (And of course, also being really aware that my photo was being taken and thinking I’m totally going to rock this photo and make it look amazing even though I am a total narcissistic goofball for hamming this up).

It’s been a week since I experienced this milestone with the Med City Half Marathon, and I’m still trying to process my memories and feelings. I think I’m still in shock. I’ve actually been working on this post all week because it’s so hard to put my experience into words.

Not only did I amaze myself with my race performance, but I also shocked Chad. He planned on seeing me cross the finish line, but I basically snuck up on him after the race at the water hydrant station. (He was cooling off, not fighting a fire). He simply didn’t expect me to be done with the race so shortly after he was. (An aside: surprising yourself and your husband on your 23rd anniversary is a special kind of awesome)

I went into the race thinking I may end up with a 9:30/mile pace because of the heat and humidity. Just how hot was it? It was actually only 70 degrees when we started at 7:00 a.m., but the humidity was around 70%. By the time we finished (before 9:00 a.m.), the temperature was probably close to 80.  I can only imagine what it would have been by the end of a full marathon around noon. Yes, it was probably the right call to cancel the full marathon, especially since Chad and I would have attempted to run it if it had been held, heat be damned.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel that hot during the race. Maybe because I knew it was going to be hot and sticky, I just accepted it. Or maybe because I was well hydrated and had plenty of water available (not like the training run earlier this spring when all the water fountains I was relying on were still off). I was a little worried about getting heat stroke (or something) because I wasn’t sure I would know it was happening until it was too late.

So I kept a close eye on my heart rate, hoping that it would let me know if things were going awry. My heart rate never even got as high as it usually does during a race, so I was/am a little worried that I didn’t put enough effort into the race. Perhaps I could have went even faster! But when I did try to go faster, I started to feel a little nauseous, which could have been just been a typical “I feel a little pukey” feeling that hard running can bring on, or it could have been the first signs of a heat-related problem. So I dialed it back. I wasn’t sure exactly how well I was doing, but I know I was doing pretty well, and it would have been a shame to have it all come crashing down with a literal crash.

Plus, we weren’t trained for a half marathon. Yes, we were trained for a marathon, but the strategy for running these races is significantly different. We just didn’t know how well the training would translate.

Although my snazzy and beloved Garmin sports watch would have told me exactly what my pace was and how well I was doing, I deliberately chose not to have it display my pace. For me, running is a huge mind game that I play against myself. Seeing my pace gradually fall (I have NOT yet figured out how to get faster as a race progresses, no negative splits for me) was going to discourage me and freak me out, no matter how good a pace I had. I got a notification at the end of each mile so I knew how fast that went, but I didn’t watch my overall pace until the very end.

Instead, I tried to be zen and experience the moment. I tried to embody the wisdom of one of the inspirational signs posted along the route at 12: “Run the mile you’re in” (not to be confused with “love the one you’re with.”) Of course my mind was wandering all over the place. Still, I tried to notice and appreciate the beauty of running through the country (the route started outside of Rochester), and then the amusing weirdness of running through what felt like people’s backyards and around parked cars as we entered the city.

So thank you Med City HALF Marathon. You gave me the opportunity to amaze myself, get an awesome photo, and have a romantic anniversary all without puking.

 

First things first: I totally kicked ass in the Rochester Med City half marathon I ran yesterday. Not only did I get a PR (Personal Record), but I REALLY earned a PR. I finished the half marathon (13.1 miles) in 1 hour, 51 minutes and 14 seconds. (1:51:14). Prior to that, my fastest time completing a half marathon was 1:56:07. My average pace during the Med City was 8:30 minutes per mile. I NEVER thought I could run a half marathon at that pace (I’m usually around 9:00 minutes per mile). I also ran my fastest mile EVER (7:40) and it was stupid hot and humid.

I didn’t intend on starting this post with that but then I realized I was burying the lead.

I also didn’t plan on running a half marathon yesterday. I planned on running a full marathon (26.2. miles). But in running, as in the rest of life, things don’t always go as we plan.

I’ve only run one marathon in my life, so I’m hardly a seasoned veteran. But I know that no matter how diligently you train, things can wrong with your marathon. Your performance and experience are affected by factors both in and outside of your control, like how much sleep you’ve gotten, what you’ve eaten, your overal health and injuries (including an injury that may have been caused by stretching your leg up too far to take a pre-race selfie that showed off your new shoes), gear/clothing mishaps, and…the weather.

Obviously, the weather plays a big role in a marathon. I expected this. But I did not expect that it would be so hot and humid in MINNESOTA IN MAY that the marathon we were signed up to run would be cancelled. Especially when at least half of our training time was spent dealing with unseasonably cold and icy weather.

And yes, I know that life is not fair, and even on the scale of marathon mishaps, we could have had it much worse. We could have been trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon or have been planning on traveling much further than the 90 minutes to Rochester.

But still, we trained for this marathon for 16 weeks with over 91 hours of running. In those 91 hours I ran approximately 611 miles. And my training had went (mostly) well (except for some already-blogged about mishaps). I was pretty psyched that I could do noticeably better during marathon #2, and my first marathon went pretty darn well.

AND it was our 23rd wedding anniversary, so running this marathon was romantic and all that.

So yeah, I was a titch disappointed. Surpringsly, there weren’t any tears. And while I tried to feel accomplished at the effort and success of my training for it’s own sake and bask in all I achieved and learned, I wanted to see what I could do. I wanted to earn that medal and the unflattering t-shirt I would never wear, not to mention all the unflattering selfies of me all sweaty and bloated that I would post on Facebook.

What do you do when you’re all trained up for a marathon with no one to run? You sign up for another one! Luckily, the Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth was still open so we registered for that as soon as we got official word that the Med City Marathon was cancelled. And we even found lodging (more or less) at the Black Bear Casino, not too far away from the start line.

So we had an awesome half marathon yesterday on our anniversary (not only did we both kick ass, but there was a great assortment of chips after the race AND an awesome 80’s/90’s hard rock cover band at the post-race party and I got in some excellent retail therapy at the race expo) and we still have a marathon to look forward to/obsess about. AND the finisher’s shirt isn’t too unflattering (v-necks are somewhat sexy, right?) and maybe I can write in “half” with a sharpie on it. At least I could edit my shirt (and medal) for the photo on Facebook.

 

My second marathon is just days away. Overall, I’m less nervous than I was the first time around, or at least, my anxieties didn’t kick in quite as early (I was pretty mellow until I realized how warm and sticky the weather is forecasted to be).

I’ve also relished tapering more than I did before my first marathon. What an awesome time…NOT running a crazy amount and getting to (mostly) bask in the glow of a successfully executed training plan. I think I’m more sad that taper time is almost over than I am nervous about the marathon.

Ah, I had such high hopes for the emotional and spiritual growth that would happen during tapering. Of course I still have a few days left, but this table captures the contrast of aspiration verus reality.

FINAL DAYS OF TAPERING:

What I should/aspire to do	What I will probably actually do
Eat as many nutrient rich carbs as I can	Freak out because increased carbs is making me gain 4 pounds of what I hope to god is only water weight
Drink plenty of water	Drink too much alcohol
Feel grateful that the forecast does not call for any severe or extremely inclement weather	Compulsively check the forecast and curse the weather deities that are bringing a 20 degree higher than normal temperature with high humidity
Feel grateful that I am healthy and injury free and  confident that I should be able to complete the marathon (barring any freak occurrences).	Feel depressed and surly and antsy and pissy that because of unusually high temperatures, I probably WON’T be able to come close to my goal of a 9:30/mile pace
Feel accomplished that I successfully completed our rigorous training plan	Compulsively record and add up training stats (hours, miles, heart rate, etc.); worry that I will never live up to standards set during training (a 9:15 pace for 17.83 miles?!!)
Leisurely enjoy inspirational readings about running, including back issues of “Runner’s World”	Freak out because I’m so behind on what I’ve wanted to read and missed out on helpful advice (NOW I learn about “carb-depletion?” WTF?!!)
Compile a motivational playlist of downloaded music for the marathon.	Swear, cry, then swear some more because I don’t understand how to create a playlist of downloaded music on my phone (I usually listen to audiobooks) and don’t know 4+ hours of songs that I would find motivational anyway
Get plenty of restful sleep	Toss and turn in anxiety-laden nights
Journal about my hopes, fears and insecurities and reflect on what I’ve learned while training for this marathon	Obsess about the same trivialities over and over and blog and let the interwebs have access to what a mess I am
Apply a motivational/inspirational temporary tattoo every time I need to combat a negative thought	Apply a motivational/inspirational temporary tattoo every time I need to combat negative thought (yes, I’m going to COVERED in temporary tats)

Let the Time of Tapering commence.

And it is off on a dramatic start (or maybe hardcore training ended on a dramatic note).

On paper (or the screen) my last long run looks awesome. I almost made 22 miles (21.94) at a 9.34 pace.

But the REST of the story (yes, quoting Paul Harvey, child of the 70’s here) isn’t captured in this stat. It doesn’t tell how I ran out of water around mile 15 so stopped the clock for 15 minutes or so while I tried to find water at the Mill City Museum (fail) and eventually in the Guthrie bathroom.

This experience left me with several questions:

• Why the f*#k aren’t the public water fountains on and working in May? (I was planning on refilling my water bottle with this method).
• Did I cheat by stopping the clock and “taking a break”? Or am I tougher because I stopped and then kept going?
• What did the patrons of the Mill City Museum and the Guthrie think of the sweaty middle-aged white lady wandering around?
• Why didn’t I start my run before 10:30 am before it was already getting hot?
• How did my run start out so good (9:15 minute per mile pace) and end up so wrong (almost 11:00 minute per mile pace)?
• Why didn’t I run 0.06 more miles and actually do 22 miles?

Okay, I do know the answer to that last question…I was so wiped by the end of my run, that it was all I could do to keep going (and I wasn’t looking at my mileage). In fact, I was so tired, and slightly nauseous, that I didn’t even want to EAT or DRINK ALCOHOL. I even violated my cardinal Amy rule and consumed most of my post-run calories via sports/health drinks and yogurt, with little chewing involving. (My prime directive is that calories should be delivered via chewing, unless alcohol is involved). But don’t worry, after a “nap”–mostly dozing in bed for two hours and moaning–I was able to commence with chewing and alcohol.

And upside is that I gained a little empathy for Chad and his general preference NOT eating.

Which finally brings me to the actually most dramatic part of the End of Serious Training/Start of Tapering: “The Rescue of Chad.” Thank the running deities, I freed myself from the bed and a snuggling Mama Pepper Kitty when I did and realized a storm was on it’s way, and Chad was out running in it. (Chad had started his run late in the afternoon because he had a mock trial in the morning).

In my groggy post-nap fugue, I was frantically trying to look up the weather.com hourly forecast and figure out how to locate Chad during our Google location sharing (usually he’s keeping tabs on me because he’s opposed to texting “Hey, where are you?”).

So, more questions:

• Was the weather actually going to get bad enough that Chad would want to cut his run short?
• Would I be able to find him?
• Did I need to put on “real” pants (not flannel PJ bottoms) and a bra to rescue him?

Eventually, wearing jeans AND a bra (and the other obvious clothing items to make me socially acceptable) I started out to find Chad. I figured I could just drive around and the weather didn’t actually get that bad, oh well.

In case you don’t know, I’m super scared of storms. As soon as I got out our alley, I was scared I was in the middle of a tornado. Yes, this was a total overreaction, but it was super windy and there was a bunch of dirt blowing around that made things look ominous. I was in a car and was scared…what the hell was going on with Chad who was just out in the elements?

Unnecessarily long story short…Chad soon called and said “Yeah, I’m ready to be done with this.” Luckily, he had safely made it to the lobby of a neighbhorhood bar (Bunny’s NE, for you locals) after only spending a short amount of time being pelted by rain. And yeah, I felt pretty smart to be able to say “I’m ALREADY in the car, will be there shortly!!”)  Wifely WIN! Chad was just happy/relieved that I wasn’t still napping.

So now we are safely home, eating chips, watching TV, latch hooking/playing video games (sure I don’t have to explain who is doing which) and drinking wine and bourbon. Okay, not THAT much different than non-tapering time, except by degree, so tapering has officially begun.

Our weekly running total goes down next week by over 2 HOURS (from 8 hours and 15 minutes to only 6 hours) Whoo-hoo! More time for drinking and blogging.

You’re on notice.

It’s Wednesday, so not only is it Hump Day, but for me, it’s Rest Day. Hmmm, in the interest of “taste” I’ll pass on any exploration of how those two days go together.

I’m sure I’ve already blogged about every possible aspect of Rest Days (as least as they apply to marathon training) but since I don’t really remember what I’ve written, and I don’t think that many folks read anything I posted about the subject the first time around, I think I can safely indulge in some redundant blogging.

And, as the world of Facebook is painfully aware of, I am smack dab in the middle of training Week 13, the most intense week of training. This week calls for a total of 8 hours and 15 minutes of running, culminating in a 3 hour and 30 minute run on Saturday. Damn.

I regard my training plan as holy scripture, a divine decree, even though in any other setting I would scoff at such an idea. Maybe it’s just my “J” nature (Myers-Brigg personality test speak) basking in the joy of having a plan to follow (that I didn’t have to create) but I am completely devoted to my training plan. The thought of straying from it causes anxiety at a level I imagine my tribal ancestors encountered when threatened with banishment.

Of course my training plan didn’t come from some mysterious deities, but from two indentifiable humans: Don and Melanie Fink. And despite the fact that they are totally controlling my life, I know very little about Don and Melanie. All I know is that they wrote a book, “IronFit’s Marathons After 40: Smarter Training for the Ageless Athlete,” and that Chad found said book, and recommended that we follow the training plan contained in the pages therein.

When Chad presented this advice to me last spring before my first marathon, I knew nothing about training for a marathon. But I knew that Chad had run two marathons, and had found them both rather difficult and disappointing, which he attributed to a lack of proper training. So I was more than content to rely on his research and advice and to convert to the Way of the Finks.

Also, I love the “After 40” angle…it implies that I was merrily running marathons until I hit 40, when I actually ran my first marathon at 47.

And while I’m sure it can’t all be attributed to the wisdom of the Finks and I must give luck it’s due, I faithfully followed the Fink training plan and I had a really successful and not too traumatic first marathon. So successful, in fact, that I wanted to run another.

So of course, I’m once again a disciple of the Finks as I prepare for my second marathon, Rochester’s Med City Marathon on May 27.

But since my first round of marathon training, I’ve learned that the Finks are potentially sadistic.

Let me explain: The Fink plan calls for not only one one 3:30 run, but THREE, plus three 2:45 minutes run. (The Fink plan goes by time, not distance, but at the pace I run, 2:45  is roughly 17 miles and 3:30 is roughly 21). Most other plans that I’ve seen call for ONE eighteen mile run and maybe ONE 20 mile.

So why not just switch to another plan?

Well, there’s practicality. The Fink plan seemed to work, so maybe all that extra time and mileage is necessary. But then reasons get murky…like the loyaltly factor. How can I abandon the Finks when they served me so well? And superstition: if I change my training, won’t the Running Deities be angered and smite me?

But most importantly there is the stubbornness/competitiveness/stupidity factor: I did this hardass training program ONCE so why would I ever admit to being so weak as to need to back off and do an easier plan? Especially since I’ve been kicking my previous performance during my last round of training?

Well, let’s see how Marathon #2 goes. If it’s a disaster, maybe I’ll curse the Finks and marathons en masse and my marathon career will careen to a messy end (or a sad wimper). Or maybe it will be awesome and I’ll decide that I’ve peaked and I approach any future marathons with a more laid back, less training-intensive stance.

Or maybe I will decide the Finks hold the key to all of life’s wisdom, at least for those of us over 40, and beg them for training plans for other areas of my life.