I’m Scared to Death

Aside from normal scary life stuff, like hardships for my children, or death of loved ones, or experiencing a car accident, I’m not usually scared by things.  Rattlesnakes don’t scare me. Speaking in public doesn’t scare me.  Heights don’t scare me.  Roller coasters don’t scare me.  I don’t get claustrophobic.   Falling down a mountain doesn’t really scare me.  Even cutting my own hair, blinded to the backside (like I did today), doesn’t scare me.

I’ll tell you what scares me – this SATURDAY.  I’m scared to death about the Saddleback Marathon, mainly because I’m not trained.  Not only am I not train, I am injured, and I’m gonna go out here (foolishly) and run 26.2 miles with 5000+ of elevation gain. (At least it will be beautiful).  If you’ve been reading all along, you know I didn’t do this on purpose.  Life just got in the way.

Such is life.

Such is life?

Such is my life.

A 17 year old student asked said to me this afternoon, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but how old are you?”

When I told him that I was 45, he seemed impressed that I was doing the race this weekend.  Little does he know.  There’s a multitude of 45-plus-year-olds that can blow me away on that mountain this weekend.

And so . . .

Races don’t normally SCARE me like this.  I was too stupid to be scared for my first Calico Ghost Town race.  By the second year, I knew, and I was scared.  I was a little scared about my first marathon, the San Diego Rock ‘n Roll Marathon.  But I never doubted that I could do it.  I also remember being scared about my first half (Disney Half Marathon) – but again, I didn’t doubt that I could do it. Though I’m always anxious about going up Bulldog, I don’t even recall being as scared as I am now with the Bulldog 50k (my first DNF).  I completely envisioned that I could finish that thing.  But now, with all that’s happened this year, my glute still stabbing with pain, I’m scared, I mean, scared stiff about the Saddleback Marathon.  You can be sure, I’m going more than prepared (that is, I’m packing in everything I could possibly need – so what if it weights 25 pounds : ).

So I went to the gym today, with the notion to stretch and relax.  I rolled my glutes and my IT Band to no end.  I stretched.  And I worked on my abs – surprisingly experiencing a good deal of glute pain. 

Afterward, I sat in the steam room, concentrating on my breathing.  I pretty much hated it in there with those boiling hot drops of water falling on me (and my ipod!!). Then I went to the sauna (I love the sauna).  I laid down on the cedar bench, listening to music through earphones for two long (8 minute) songs.  I focused on breathing again (meaning diaphragm breathing, in through the mouth, out through the nose).  When it was time to leave, sadly I could not lift myself off the bench without excruciating glute pain.  There I laid in an empty sauna with no way to get up.  If only someone could walk in and offer me a hand, pull me up.  When it looked like that wasn’t going to happen, I rolled myself down to the lower bench, then quickly rolled myself up.

I ended this “stretch and relax” session with 15 minutes in the jacuzzi.  Focusing the jet stream on my glutes, I finished up surprisingly refreshed.  It wasn’t until after work (wearing pumps for 4 hours) that the glute pain resumed.  And oh ya, my deltoid/pec ached with no relief.   After dinner out, a sticky heating pad on my shoulder, plus with a couple glasses of wine and 3 Motrin, I told my husband, “I need to drink a couple glasses of wine before the Saddleback Marathon and I will be fine.”

Ya.

Meanwhile, another horse pill antibiotic to swallow tonight, two more again tomorrow and days to come . . . perhaps all will be well come this weekend.

On the plus side, I will be running this race with a very sweet running friend who is also scared, and maybe another running friend (who I don’t think is scared : )  But that’s okay too, she can lead the way!

Yup; I was there.

Despite my complaining, and maybe it was stupid, (I was hoping the antibiotics would protect me) but I grabbed me some of that fortitude this afternoon and headed out for a trail run.  I just had to do it.  It wasn’t that a short hilly run was gonna suddenly train me for the following weekend.  I just needed the release, the escape.

I took 4 ibuprofen, 2 Sudafed, packed my hydro pack with plenty of water (let me tell ya I drank it all), and ran down Canyon Vistas park with my shoulder reeking of Icy Hot, and a pain jabbing my RIGHT glute.  (It switched sides – go figure :)

At the bottom of Cholla Trail I asked a mountain biker if he would grab the Icy Hot out of my pack.  He kindly obliged, then I hid behind a sign, and COATED that glute.  I powered up Cholla best that I could.  Passed a biker resting at the side along the way.

I focused on relaxing and not compensating by changing my gate.  Mid-foot strike (especially on the uphills), straight core, and most importantly I concentrated on relaxing.  Toward the end of West Ridge I found myself running alongside three male runners who were just at my pace – they had actually passed a ways back, but I caught them on the uphills.  Conversation with one of the gentlemen took my mind off the tough end of West Ridge.

 Me at Top of the World, Pacific Ocean/Laguna Beach in background (look!  My ipod matches my shirt)

I can’t express what a relief I felt to stand at the Top of the World.  The breeze was cool, the people smiling.  By then my arm felt no pain, my glute minimal pain.  The ocean was dark, the skies bright.  And I have to say that just standing there gave me a boost – a mental boost (I don’t think it did so much for me physically). 

After running into Alta Laguna Park and stocking up on toilet paper to blow my nose, I ran back up to West Ridge with gusto.  I stretched and took a few snap shots, then ran, not that swiftly, back up and down, up and down West Ridge to Cholla, and back to the car.  I arrived home to greet my parents who stopped by for a short visit.  Then I spent a pleasant evening feeling just fine, my with my youngest son’s friend and parents.  And we gathered entirely too much candy trick or treating on this Halloween night. 

Photo of a beetle (stink bug) as it crosses beneath me during glute/hamstring stretch at Top of the World

Elevation Profile

Miles logged on this Halloween:  6.24

I don’t mean to complain but . . .

I really do hate to complain, I don’t mean to complain.  But the truth of the matter is, I’m screwed.  I mean, really, really screwed.  At this point, the only thing that is going to save me is fortitude.

Definition of FORTITUDE

strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage

Examples of FORTITUDE

1. She has endured disappointments with fortitude and patience.
2. <it was only with the greatest fortitude that the Pilgrims were able to survive their first winter in Plymouth>

Origin of FORTITUDE

Middle English, from Latin fortitudin-, fortitudo, from fortis

First Known Use: 12th century

Related to FORTITUDE

Synonyms: backbone, constancy, fiber, grit, grittiness, guts, intestinal fortitude, pluck, spunk

http://mw1.meriam-webster.com/dictionary/fortitude

I first started thinking about fortitude after my pastor spoke about it one evening that I went to church with my oldest son.  I had never really thought of the word before.  I had thought about “suffering gracefully”, which I cannot do.  But fortitude?  Well, that got me inspired.  2010 has been a tough, tough year – in so many ways that I won’t even begin to go into.  All this time I’ve been hoping and praying for things to get better, but then it dawned on me: IT MIGHT NOT.  I always thought a positive attitude makes things better.  But I’m realizing that I can’t control the world and that a positive attitude, well, that’s all good and all, it helps emotionally, but it surely doesn’t stop the bad things from happening.  As I sat and listened to that sermon, I thought to myself that I’d better suck it up and get me some of that fortitude, because things might not get better for a long time.  Of course, I’m not merely talking about my physical strength and abilities, I’m talking about life.

But concerning my physical strength and abilities, namely TRAIL RUNNING, it’s all been going downhill for a while (or should I say uphill!).   My training went astray last Father’s Day when we were involved in that 4 car collision (which by the way, the adjuster of the person at fault is telling me that my medical bills were way too high, and they aren’t even considering all of them, and my “training” means absolutely nothing to him – I am after all a 45 year old woman with 3 kids and a husband at home – what the heck business do I have traipsing around the hillside like I’m some kind of athlete?”  He didn’t say that last part, but that’s what he was thinking, I just know : )).

And thus I digress.  SO!  I really started thinking about fortitude again last weekend when I got stung by a wasp twice while running up the Santa Monica Mountains.  And I prayed for fortitude. I made it through that race amazingly fine – especially with very little training.  Which brings me to now:

That day I got a sore throat.  The next day decided not to workout, not because of the sore throat or sneezing and coughing, but because my quads were so stiff from that long downhill run.  When Tuesday rolled around, I decided to get to the gym to at least loosen up – I have the Saddleback Marathon looming ahead.  I sat in the steam room and sauna (lovely), foam rolled, worked on abs and lifted weights.  And since my deltoid and pec seemed so much better, I had the bright idea to workout all muscle groups, including my arms.

My arm (shoulder area) has ached since.  I practically wear a heating pad over my shoulder now as part of my normal attire.  Not only that, I’ve got that dang glute issue going on, not to mention, lower back pain.  I’ve been stretching and rolling the glutes like mad.  Doesn’t seem to help.

Wednesday, I wanted to run, but I was too sick.  Thursday, same thing.  Now I’m really falling into the pits.  I can’t even look at runners on the street, I get so jealous.  I was so sick, my husband had to get the kids to school.  He came home and told me, T____’s mom  “was going for a run this morning.” 

“La, la, la,” I covered my ears.   “I don’t want to hear it . . . wait!”  I uncovered my ears.  “Where’s she running?”

“It didn’t look like she was wearing trail shoes,” he said.

“Have you ever noticed her legs all dirty, I mean, this is important!  THINK!Has she ever picked up her kids with her legs caked in dirt like I do?”

“No,” he said, “I’ve never noticed her legs covered with dirt.”

“Okay.  GOOD.”

Thursday, I was still too sick to run.  My deltoid/pec still aching, glute painful, throat sore I headed off to the gym – I had a marathon in a little over a week.  I got a good workout.  I spent over an hour on the elliptical, lifted some weights (no arms!), did ab work and lastly did some lower back strengthening (bad, bad idea!)

Friday, too sick to run.  But I felt better, better enough to get the kids to school, do errands and take the Boo Cruise out of the Harbor.

Saturday, big plans to run.  Too sick to run.  So I finally went to the doctor, spent two hours in the waiting room.  Turns out, my cold turned into a secondary infection, which fortunately can be treated with antibiotics.  “Are you going to give me the fast acting kind?” I asked, eagerly. 

Nope.

“Should I double dose the first one?”

Nope.

Fortitude, I need fortitude.

Sunday, again, big plans to run.  I caked on the Icy Hot, took 4 ibuprofen and laid a heating pad over my lower back when I went to bed last night (at 9:30).

When the alarm when off at 5:00 AM, I decided I was still too sick to run. 

And so as you can see, I am screwed.  With practically no marathon training whatsoever, I’m going to run one next Saturday with 5,000+ feet of elevation gain. 

Fortitude!  Please give me fortitude.

Coastal Trail Runs – Malibu Creek 25k

Though I went to bed early, I got little sleep.  It seems I woke every two hours and dreamt all night that I was running, racing actually a double loop that went through houses and backyards.  I finally woke at 5 AM for good and hit the road for Malibu Creek State Park at 5:30.

I felt excited to run the same loop I’ve done on 4 other occasions, but this time in the opposite direction (clockwise).  I thought clockwise had to be easier than counter-clockwise.  After all, I wouldn’t have to climb Bulldog Road (which stresses me out immensely – which should make me ponder why do I do it???)

Anyway, this was a low key race, actually three races, a 10k, 25k, 50k all starting at once.  I believe the race director said there were 92 runners.  About 30 ran my race.   I recognized one woman from the Marine Hard Corps Marathon this year.  That brave soul was going to conquer the 50k.

My strategy:  take it slow.  (Borrowing someone else’s words: start off slow and end slow).  And so I did.  I started at the back of the pack, pain stabbing my right glute.  But as I ran up Backbone Trail (it’s usually the last hill in the race, a torturous devil of a little hill, what a joy to get it over first), I felt happy, to be running this loop once again.  My main goal was to finish – that’s all.  Finish.

Running down the other side of Backbone (which is usually hell coming up at the end of the race) I got a little surprise.  Something fast-flying flew beneath my sleeve and stung my right shoulder!  I screamed, or yelled, I think it was a scream actually, and brushed the thing out of my sleeve.  Then it swiftly flew down and stung my ring finger, the one with my wedding band.  My finger immediately swelled up and I ran in pain, astonished, wondering what the heck stung me.  I couldn’t imagine; all I knew was that bees lose their stingers when they sting.  So, it couldn’t have been a bee. 

At Aid station number one, we looked through the first aid kit for an antihistamine.  Coming up empty handed, I popped some ibuprofen, which did nothing for the sting pain , but took care of the glute problem.  The aid worker said that a hornet probably got me – they don’t lose their stingers when they use them. 

Yikes.  My first wasp sting.  Rather, stings.

So, I had to work on my attitude a bit as I continued running.  I can’t run a loop like this with a bad attitude.  Relaxing my body and my mind, I prayed some (Dear Lord, give me fortitude), repeated mantra’s like loosen-up, loosen-up and found in no time that negative attitude gone.  And I kept on Truckin’ . . . 

Running up to the ridge was not easy, in fact it was very difficult.  I hiked some of it.  But it was by NO MEANS as difficult as climbing Bulldog.

I caught a cool breeze running the ridge line.  There were some up hills and down hills.  I could take them all, having not been destroyed by Bulldog.  I tripped once, pretty hard on the ridge.  I barely lost a step.

Heading up the Mountain

Beauty on the Trail

Onward to Bulldog Road (& second aid station)

Running down Bulldog was an eye-opener.  I fought hard to keep a constant pace, finding it difficult not to “fly” down that road.  I admit as I ran down Bulldog I thought to myself, I’m NEVER climbing this thing again – it’s strange looking at Bulldog Road from another direction.  I finally realized why it’s such a difficult climb.  There is absolutely no relief from the climb and very little shade.  And it’s a long trail, more than three miles. 

With my brain empty I concentrated on the road, slipping once (fortunately I caught myself).  Then, this is how emotional running is for me, my dog Daisy popped into my mind about half way down the mountain.  I sobbed out loud in mourning.  Though I found it difficult to breathe while crying and running, I didn’t stop myself until I was done.  Sobbing that is, not running. 

After Bulldog, I ran past the M.A.S.H. movie set where picnickers set themselves up alongside a rusted jeep.  And then I made my way onto the single track, not stopping once.  I did trip once here though, but again kept on my feet (strength training!). 

By mile 13, I had grown so dang tired, that the old Lauren (before trail running) would have laid down in the shade for a nap.  But I kept on running, so eager to make the finish line.  I knew my time was going to be my slowest ever for this loop (more than 4 hours).  Like I cared!  I barely had any business running this race.

When I finally crossed over the creek again, I felt a huge sense of relief – homeward bound relief.  I could roll myself to the finish line if I had to at that point.  But I didn’t need to.  The crowds of people dressed in their church clothes mingling about the creek brought such a smile to my face and heart, that I ran it on in, slowly yes, but extremely thrilled that one of the 50k runners didn’t lap me.  I really didn’t want to get lapped.  (I expected that the closer and closer I got to the finish).  I didn’t even get the honored DFL.

Remnants of M.A.S.H. television props

Along the Final Stretch (well, not exactly the FINAL stretch, but almost there)

At Finish Line (not looking too pretty, but oh so happy to finish!)

Overall, I had a great time.  Now I truly know the meaning of “Quad Killer.”  I’ve heard runners say this or that hill is a “Quad Killer,” but I’ve never had any bad effects from any of these downhills.  RUNNING DOWN BULLDOG WAS A QUAD KILLER.  I can barely move around tonight, my quads are so stiff and sore.

Oh, there’s more : )  Elevation profile below and the movie (I can’t resist) beneath that.

Miles logged today:  15.55