PEDAL Ride, AKA Finding My Smile Again

Last weekend I rode my bike a lot. In fact, I was sitting in the saddle for over eight hours Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I have not been riding all that much the past few months because of all of my agro running mileage, and because I wanted to take a breather from riding altogether. I was getting to the point where I really enjoyed my “running” life, not having to worry about fitting in swim work outs, or long bike rides, but then I remembered I committed to take part in the first PEDAL ride from San Diego to Los Angeles for my friend Steve, a good friend and former colleague. The ride would benefit Pangea Educational Development’s campaign to raise money to build a piggery in the Gulu Remand Home in Uganda. So, around early October I started to get my act together, and put in some time in the saddle. 

I knew I would not ride on my Triathlon bike because that would just be silly riding that thing in a group setting for three days, so I commandeered Marion’s road bike instead, a Fugi Gran Fondo. It’s a good thing he chose the medium frame, because it fit me perfectly. I attended two training rides, the first in early November, the second in in early December, the latter was in the rain, good times. The people I met those two days were excited, and kind; my favorite combination. The best part of my ramp up to the PEDAL ride was I started to get excited about riding bikes again.  I had been living in my running bubble for months, and now I was starting to realize “I DO love riding bikes!” Next, of course came a flood of training ideas and expectations for triathlons to race in 2015, but first was the PEDAL ride.

I signed up for this event because Steve asked me to, I am always up for a physical challenge, especially when I can help others with my efforts, but what I learned throughout the weekend about the charity, and the people who run it, just about bowled me over with warmth and faith in humanity. The funds raised for our ride would go towards building and funding a Piggery for the Gulu Ramand home. The Piggery would provide funds to boost the teaching staff from one to three, and provide real-world skills for children awaiting trial to utilize once released and make a successful life for themselves. The fundraising goal was $7,500, and we raised over $8,000, amazing.

http://www.pangeaeducation.org/pedal-riders-raising-funds-piggery-project/

We decided to take the Amtrak Surfliner train on Friday morning out of Union Station in Los Angeles to downtown San Diego where we would then hop on our bikes and start riding north. Our first stop was Carlsbad, nearly thirty five miles north from downtown, and at 12:30PM we were off! The first few miles carved through the city, and then we were out on the rolling hills leading into La Jolla, where we stopped for a special photo op in front of the Pangea Parking lot at UC San Diego, cute. 

Next, we cruised up, over, and down into the Paragliding Launch just off campus when one of the most courageous riders, Judy, screamed, “This is the best time of my life!” Suddenly, I heard Clinck, clang, her left break fell off her bike! “What? The what?” My heart sank, especially because she was riding a single speed bike, not a fancy, schmancy one like me, which basically let me choose how much pain I wanted to feel, every hill was a grind on Judy’s bike, but she was loving it! I was impressed with her gumption, and felt horrible about her brake falling off, but her spirits were not deterred, she was my hero.

We stopped for too long in the parking lot of the Hangliding launch, but it was worth it because I had the chance to chat with most of the riders, and fuel up on a peanut butter sandwich.  There were twelve of us total, and they were all such magical, hilarious human beings, I knew I was among my people. Then we met Scooter. Scooter is a pot-bellied pig who lived “in the back” of the Hang glide house and is parented by a man who is not a huge fan of the justice system, but apparently a friend of livestock. After many, many minutes waiting for the Red Bull car to meet up with us for a photo op, we decided to roll out and start making our way up north through the quaint and enviable coast towns, Solana Beach, Del Mar, until we would stop at a bike shop so Judy could get her bike fixed. I felt a little queasy because we would indeed be riding in the dark, honestly not something I expected, and I had no lights. Thankfully the bike store was fully stocked, so I bought a rear light, and said a prayer that we would make it safely the final ten plus miles in darkness to our campsite in Carlsbad. However, the best news of the day was Judy got her bike fixed free of charge, aren’t people wonderful?

I am not a fan of night riding; I do like Michael Hasselhoff, but not getting dizzy staring at a red blinking light fifteen in front of me while perplexed drivers whir past me in darkness. The scariest moment of the ride was when shrouded in pitch black we careened down a hill which ended at a stop sign, then started right back up again into a steep incline, which was exhilarating, and terrifying. Thankfully, we all made it to the campsite in one piece, but the first day was long, longer than I expected, and we only rode 33 miles… We had an 80 plus mile day ahead of us on Saturday, no doubt a much longer day in the saddle.

We were treated to a delicious pasta dinner prepared by Steve’s roommate Eric’s sister, Heather, and their Uncle, I ate two heaping platefuls, and felt fine about it. Next, we spent hours swapping stories and delving deeper into each other’s souls while roasting marshmallows and pitching tents overlooking the magnificent Pacific Ocean. I was very proud to be among these wonderful people, and thrilled to be right in the middle of such a looming adventure, the only way home was on our bikes.

Saturday morning came quickly, which was wonderful because it meant that I slept. Steve had us up, packed and ready to roll by 8:30ish, pretty impressive. At breakfast we laughed over Larabars and bananas, while dreaming of coffee, but were excited to be roughing it, and ready to start pedaling.

As we cruised through the heavily active cycling community of Oceanside we were jeered a few times by the peloton’s in spandex who had egos as over-priced as their bikes, I felt protective of the team, and did not want any of them to lose their spirit by those jerks, and they didn’t, again, an amazing group of people.

Soon we were showing our ID and pedaling through the rolling hills of Camp Pendleton, the US Marine base in Oceanside. I had ridden there a few times during triathlons, so it was a little strange not to be killing myself those first few miles like I do in a race, but this was not a race, and it felt good to encourage people up the hills, instead of zooming past them.

The day was getting hot and the miles were slowly ticking by as we rolled into San Clemente Cyclery bike shop just before Noon. Then a few more hours of riding, and another stop

behind a Costco, in their rear parking lot I should say, so, still on their premises, we found out later they did not like our intrusion, but it was a needed respite before our last long push of the day. We fueled up and got psyched up, because the steepest climb of the entire trip was on the other side of our break. We crossed the busy street packed tightly in a single line, thundered down the hill outside of Costco, made it through the light, then powered up the hill like maniacs, it was awesome! I was so proud of everyone, the hill was scary steep, but we all made it to the top in one piece with spirits intact. There were smiles and relief all around because we only needed to cover a mere thirty miles until reaching our refuge for the night in Huntington Beach, it was 3PM, we had less than two hours of daylight.

The course sent us on gorgeous trails along the freeway through Irvine and up to the lip of Huntington Beach. The trails were fun in the daylight, but treacherous in the dark. I nearly crashed making a tight right turn from the street down the path parallel to a waterway, but thankfully I righted my wheel in the nick of time, and no one was the wiser. The remaining miles on the strand along Huntington Beach were glorious, but never-ending. It was nearly 8PM when we reached our exit toward the Promised Land, Ben and Annie’s house in a lovely gated community on the northern tip of Huntington Beach. We all stuffed our faces with pizza, shared our “highs and lows” of the day, and then slept soundly for the night, because there was talk of coffee awaiting us in the morning.

When I woke up Sunday morning I was surprised and pleased that I was not sore from two solid days of riding, it had been months since I had spent that many hours in the saddle. That said, I was not exactly excited to be riding another four plus hours until we reached our final destination of South Central LA at CicLaVia. Nevertheless, we were in it together, and I was looking forward to finishing this epic journey alongside some of the most kind-hearted, and hilarious human beings I had ever met.

The first twenty miles or so felt fast and fun. The ladies in the group huddled up near the back of the pack for some delicious girl talk, a luxury I have rarely indulged in since college. Next, we spent most of the latter part of the day riding along the Los Angeles river trail that starts in Long Beach and continues through Compton, Bell Gardens, etc., until we hopped back onto the city streets in the not-so-pleasant smelling city of Vernon. One and done for me, Vernon, thank you. Soon we were in the middle of South Central LA, and the road was closed to traffic, which meant the finish line for us! We made it to CicLaVia! They close the roads off to all vehicles so people of all ages, shapes, and sizes can pedal up and down the city streets on their two-wheeled Freedom Riders, their bikes! I was proud to be among my fellow Angelenos, and to share such a special finish with my PEDAL comrades.

We hurried through our good byes, gave quick hugs, and then scattered to find our various transports back to our homes, and reality. I was happy that my Uber driver arrived quickly, because I missed Marion and Hannah, but it felt strange to be sitting in a car, rather than riding my bike.

I arrived home happy, because I gained my sense of humor back, finally. I have spent so many years as a “responsible” grown up, that I lost the part of me that laughs with others, but also makes others laugh, too. This past week was the easiest and most authentic I have felt in my own skin in a very long time, and I give much, if not all of the credit to my fellow PEDAL riders. I hope that they all continue to ride bikes, for themselves and for others, I know I will.

P.S. If you want to laugh, and appreciate brilliant comedy, check out my girls Caitlin and Katie here: http://www.teacherswebseries.com/episodes/

Then, watch your listings on TV Land in JULY:)

Launching Into 2015 - Who's With Me?

Okay, it is time to talk about the future. It may be clear by now that I am a “goal setter” and tend to guide my everyday life in pursuit of my goals, they may be months down the road, or just a task I need to complete by the end of the day, no matter what, I set a goal, and set out to achieve it. Usually I endure some kind of adventure along the way toward that goal which makes for an entertaining story, so really it is the journey along the way that keeps me coming back for more.

This brings me to today… About a year ago, (I realize that felt like a time/space continuum), I was ripping through marathons every few months along my 35 by 35 journey, and I started to ponder what my next goal would be? I will deliver three high fives to anyone guess what my first idea was??? Actually, I have shared this idea with one person, so now here it is unveiled to all of you… I want to qualify for the 2016 Olympic marathon trials. In case you were wondering what this Herculean task entails, I will need to run a marathon under 2:43 hours before the trials take place on February 13^th, 2016, (Hannah’s birthday) in Los Angeles. Obviously this is a lofty goal, but will my life go on if I don’t qualify? Yes. Would it be a miracle if I could lop off 37 minutes from my current marathon personal record in order to qualify? Yes. Does that mean I won’t try? No. What are we here for if not to go for it, and enjoy the process along the way? I’m an American for goodness sake! 

However, I do fancy myself a bit of  a running "expert", and as such I know that I do not have the body type and/or fleet-footedness to go under 2:43hrs. Maybe if I never grew those four inches in-between Freshmen and Sophomore year in high school and was not a schosch below 6',I would be in a better spot, but I am a large lady, so a 3:00 hour marathon may be possible someday, but sub 2:50 is a little ridiclulous. That said, I am a creative person, so I came up with a different Olympic Qualifying inspired plan that is sending me back to two of my favorite marathons in early 2015, the LA marathon in March, and the Boston marathon in April.

I have already launched into an 18 week “Advanced” = (75 - 100 miles per week) marathon training plan for the LA marathon, whereas Boston is only 5 weeks after LA, so the name of the game for that training plan is enough rest and recovery after LA to be ready to rock again in Boston. 

I am so excited to race the Boston course again, ten years after my first go-around in 2005, I was not in proper shape back then, so this time around I plan to give the course the respect it deserves and be in best shape possible come race day. 

Here comes the juice, my goal is to race LA around 3:15 hours, and Boston 3:11 hours, exactly one hour faster than my time as a 25 year old; clever, huh? Will I cry tears of disappointment if I don’t make those times? No. Will I push myself every single day to accomplish the training, nutrition, rest, and assessment required to reach my goals? Yes. Will I respect my body, and love every moment that she allows me to keep going? Yes. Will I hug Hannah before leaving for every work out, no matter what time it is? Yes. Will I have an amazing husband and training partner with me along the way? Yes. Will I write it all down, and share the journey with all of you? You betcha!

On another note, I have plans cooking for the back half of 2015 which include LOTS of swimming, biking, and running… Happy Thanksgiving my friends!

A Shout Out To The Love of My Life

Hi All,

The past couple of weeks have been both gratifying and paralyzing. I finished all of my posts for 35 by 35, printed out all 122 whopping pages, and started to put it all together in narrative book form which is wonderful, and terrifying. Imagine a large Hippopotamus sitting on your chest and you will start to realize what I am feeling. I am very proud of sharing these amazing marathons with all of you, but the next step is the tough part, making it all make sense and flow like a story everyone and their mother wants to read. It is a good thing that I have a magnificent human being named Marion Spates as my partner in life, and ever present positive life force as my motivator and supporter. We are celebrating our eighth wedding anniversary tomorrow, so I figured today would be a great time to say out loud what I say about him to myself every day.

WARNING: If you have a low-threshold for lovey-dovey stuff, then you may not want to keep reading, because I am about to go all "Nicolas Sparks" on all of you.

When I first saw Marion on April 26^th, 2004 walking down the hallway of the offices of Digital Dimension wearing  baggy orange pants, a beanie, and Camper shoes I knew my life was about to change. Not only was this my first day of work at an actual 9-6ish job, finally breaking free of freelance work, I felt an instant connection to him. Cut to, later that day, and for the next few weeks, Marion constantly helped me with the company’s editing system, and helped me learn the lingo of Visual Effects, not a subject I was all that familiar with, but needed to be in order to keep my job.

I learned quickly that Marion was divorced and had a five year old daughter, named Hannah. He gushed about Hannah constantly, and would leave work early every other day in order to pick her up from Daycare because he had joint custody. He was the favorite at work, because he was funny, gregarious, and kind, but I felt like there was something much deeper underneath his overt enthusiasm and zest for life. Soon I found myself racing to work early so we could talk by ourselves in the kitchen before everyone else arrived, and I had him all to myself. Mind you, Marion was not my type at all. He had earrings, tattoos, a ridiculous haircut, plus he was ten years older than me, divorced, and a father, gulp, but his kindness trumped all of that, and soon we were on our first date, kissing underneath the stars at the Hollywood Bowl.

My experience with relationships was nearly non-existent, while he was like a Champion race horse, so I figured we balanced each other out? Not really, we had many bumps in the road that may have been avoided if I knew what I was doing, instead I am proud that every conflict has strengthened us, and renewed our commitment because of our mutual respect for one another. Also, I never in a million years thought I would be loved by being exactly who I am. I know our mom’s tell us that Prince Charming will love us with all of our faults and foibles, but I thought I would eventually have to change to get a guy’s attention, but Marion loves me in baggy pants, a bun, and no make-up; however, my hair down is HUGE bonus. He rubs my gnarled running feet every night, he may not like it, but he does it. He also believes in me. He has been rooting me on as a writer long before I was, and just as much in me as a runner and triathlete, and if any of you know how Marion cheers, he gets you going.

I can’t believe we have been together for over ten years, I am pretty sure we beat the House on that bet, but the years have flown by, and I feel like we are just getting going. I am thankful to be married to my best friend who is always up for an adventure, and is pretty darn good-looking. Plus, he is an incredible human being that I believe in, trust, and am thankful for every day. Do I think he should have a grown up hair-cut and not a Mohawk at nearly forty five? Yes, but I know who I married, and love every bit of him; tattoos, earrings, and all.

Happy Anniversary, Marion

#36: Basel Part II

A HUGE reason that I wanted to run the marathon in Basel was to share the experience with Tim as I have mentioned earlier, because he is the original Marathoner in my life, but also to create memories with my two nieces and nephew, Jenna, Kate, and Blake Kelly. I wanted to fully embrace my role as “Adventurous Aunt T,” and I figured running the marathon in their new city would solidify my street cred.

I had decided a while ago that I did not want to have children of my own, a controversial and baffling choice to many, but it is the right one for me. In fact, one of the reasons I enjoyed my time in Basel so much was that both Tim, and his Super-Hero wife Shannon, never asked me once about having kids; they asked about Hannah, who is my everything. I know my calling in life was to be her step mother, and to inspire my many nieces and nephews go after their dreams, even if their parents think they are nutty, I will always be in their corner rooting them on.

One of these reasons why I am writing this blog, and this book, is so that I can have a platform to speak from in becoming a motivational speaker. However, I had a sneak peek into my future while speaking to about 25 or so eager International School Basel students during their lunch hour the Friday before the race. Shannon had spoken about me with the school’s PE teacher, a handsome and vibrant Frenchman named, Didier, and thankfully he jumped at the chance for me to speak to the students, and even put together a fantastic flyer that had the kids pumped to hear what yours truly had to say.

I was a little nervous, he associated me with some mighty fast ladies, but I was more excited than anything, and was looking forward to sharing my experiences with running and triathlon with the next generation. The highlight of the day had to have been Blake standing in front of the group next to me giving me a fantastic introduction, I was both impressed and humbled, I didn’t know he knew that much about his Aunt T? Next, I started off talking about how long a marathon is, and what it takes to train for one, the time, nutrition, etc., but I opened the floor up to questions pretty quickly because I knew if the kids were listening me voluntarily they were into in running, I didn’t need to convince them, instead I wanted to feed their passion by sharing as much as they wanted to know. They asked such inquisitive, excellent questions, every single one of them. Eventually, they had to go back to class, but not before a few of them, mainly the tall girls who reminded me so much of myself at that age, came up and asked me individual questions, they looked at me like I was their hero; it was the coolest feeling ever. As Shannon, Kate and I walked upstairs toward the car I took in a deep sigh because now I wanted to live up to their expectations of me and run fast on Sunday.

Fortunately, Saturday was an action-packed family day which included Blake’s soccer game, a detour through France to visit a Swiss castle, a stop by the race expo, and an hour so in my Mother’s would be “heaven” the Kurbis Festival; that’s Pumpkin Festival for us English speaking folks. Sadly, I did not partake in the delicious Kurbis soup, due to my strict diet before race day, it would be another pancake dinner for me later, but Jenna and Shannon gobbled some up for all of us, and then we conquered the corn maze under the steadfast leadership of Jenna. I would follow her into battle any day.

I slept well on Saturday night, but not a whole lot. I have grown accustomed to my usual 4AM wake-up call on race days, but with the 8:30AM start time this time around, that early rising hour was not required, but I was up and at ‘em anyway. Tim and I left for the tram around 6:50ish because I told him I wanted to be at the starting line an hour before the gun went off, however, we were both a little surprised when we arrived at our stop and nary a barricade was up yet, let alone crowded runners in the street. We walked around for a little while, he showed me his favorite spot looking over the Rhine River just behind a cathedral, and found a clutch breakfast spot for him to have coffee and a chocolate croissant, while I was happy to have a warm place to sit and psyche myself up.

The runners started bustling about the starting line as Tim and I both assessed the crowd and thought I had a chance to do well, but I am always on the look-out for the Spritely swift-footed 40-50 aged runners who always seem to edge me out of the top spot, I saw a couple of contenders, so I kept my expectations at bay. Who am I kidding? I was just thrilled and thankful to be there. Once again I was fit and healthy enough to be standing on marathon starting line feeling fresh and pumped to give everything I had for 26.2 miles, err 42.2 km, for you European folks out there. This race was already my greatest achievement because I had to complete 35 By 35 in order to make it here; I did, so here I was ready to run the marathon at the top of my list.

The gun went off and I started off quickly but maintained a sensible position considering the narrow cobble-stone streets. The most annoying/hilarious few hundred yards of the race was when I was stuck behind two pace runners being slapped and punched by the balloons tied on their shirts with their pace time written on them, next time carry signs my friends. Soon I darted around my balloon smacking cohorts at the corner just beyond 2K mark, and settled into a comfortably uncomfortable pace that I felt confident in maintaining for most of the race, it was fun to be running fast again.

The most amazing part of this marathon was that Tim was rooting for me in person. It could be because I am the youngest of us four Kelly kids, or that I am just a big sap, but I have always had a heavy heart when it comes to spending time with my siblings. There is no doubt that I worshipped Tim, Peter, and Mary growing up, but when Tim went away to college I was only ten, and it was not an easy transition for me. Tim was a rock for the three of us elementary aged kiddos when we moved from Palos Verdes to Claremont after my parent’s divorce, his approval meant everything to me, and that feeling has not changed over the last thirty years. Running this marathon in Basel with Tim cheering me on meant just as much to my thirty five year old self as it did to my ten year old self, absolutely everything.

I wasn’t sure when or where I would see him on the course, but it didn’t matter, because he was all over the place! The first spot I saw him was just after the 10K mark which was perfect because he let me know I was the second woman, sweet! Just after I passed him I noticed my shoes were untied, so I had to stop and tie them, I think I only lost a few seconds, but really? Shoes untied, come on Taryn! Over the next few miles we meandered through some tree-lined old roads within Basel, there were some ups and downs in elevation that altered my pace a bit, but I felt strong and consistent throughout the first of two loops on the course, then I saw Tim again and he yelled, “How are you?”

“Okay, I’m kind of feeling it.”

“Just have fun, Tar, the leader is 200 feet in front of you!”

Well, that did the trick! The slight twinge of lactic built up in my legs went away as suddenly I felt like a real competitor. I had never been this close to the lead in any marathon, or triathlon, in fact the only time I won races was in the 100meter hurdles in high school, and those were mainly in the preliminary heats. I did lead a cross country race for the first mile during my fleet-footed Freshmen season. It was the Frosh/Soph heat at the Mt. Sac Relays, the first mile on the course is flat, then a little windy, I clocked it in 6:34min., my fastest time to date, but I fell back a few places once we hit the unforgiving switchbacks, then fell further back once I started the climb up Poop Out hill, sadly no podium finish on that day. However, the feeling of being out in front, with every other runner outside of your periphery, behind you, is a feeling an athlete never forgets.

As I rounded the next turn I saw a petite blonde woman in a triathlon kit about fifty feet ahead of me, I assumed she was the leader, my pace was faster, so I didn’t make a dramatic surge or anything, soon enough I overtook her and made the pass. We gave each other a courteous nod, but she didn’t’ try to chase me down, that was it. A few yards ahead I saw a guy on a bike riding in the middle of the street with a sign on the front, I assumed he was the 1^{st place} female escort, so I asked him, “Am I in first place?” he turned to me, looking somewhat bewildered to see another woman who was nearly double the size of the pip squeak he was riding next to for the first 21km, “Marathon?”

 “Yes.”

“Yeah.”

 That was all I needed to hear, I was leading a marathon, what??!!  

The next 21km were spectacular. There were out and back sections of the course where we ran past fellow marathoners and half marathoners and one thing I always do is cheer for the lead women in races when I see them. I believe the race is run individually, not against each other, and I revere fast runners, but today I was the fast runner they were cheering for.

Yes, my legs started to ache over the last 10k or so, but I kept a consistent pace, in fact I passed quite a few prideful Basler men who were not too keen on a woman overtaking them, but this was my day, I was a machine, this was 36^th marathon for goodness sakes, I knew what I was doing, and all I wanted to say was, “On your left, thanks.”

The last kilometer or so seemed to go on forever, but soon enough I made the final turn and ran up toward the finish. I was looking for Tim in the crowds lining both sides of the street, but I was ecstatic when I saw Shannon, Jenna, Kate, and Tim cheering for me holding the cutest sign ever just before I made the final turn toward the finish line. I didn’t think the girls would be able to make it to the race because they were in various states of illness, but Shannon rallied the troops, and I will be forever grateful that the girls were able to see their Aunt T win a marathon. This trip was about creating memories with them, and I think they will remember that one for a long time.

Just after I crossed the finish line this photo was taken, and I think it says it all.

Even though this particular quest is complete, there will be many more for me, for example writing my book, and I hope there will many more for all of you, too. It doesn’t have to be running marathons, or running at all, we are all capable of amazing things if we set a goal and challenge ourselves to go after it.

#36: Basel Marathon - Part One

Guess what? I made it to Basel after all to run in the marathon. It was not #35, but rather my “one to grow on” marathon, #36. I went through a maze of indecision to get to the starting line, but I did, and wow, did it pay off.

I decided not go to Basel when they changed the day of the race on me, originally it was slated from early September, then they moved it to 9/28, which was after my birthday, so I figured what was the point of that? I wanted to run “35 by 35”, not “35 just after I turned 35”. My mom thought it was no big deal, but I did, I had to finish the races before my birthday, so Basel suddenly did not fit in at all in the equation. Then my plans really flew off the rails when I decided on a whim while watching the Ironman World Championships on NBC that I would sign up for another Ironman, even though I had set a schedule for 2014 to be all about marathons. At the time I was frustrated with my current station in life and decided to throw in all of my chips and go for it, so I signed up for Ironman Lake Tahoe on 9/21. Unfortunately, the flip side of that selfish decision was that Basel reallywould not be able to happen at all, because I could not afford to race an Ironman, which are very expensive, and fly to Basel and run the marathon. Therefore, I decided to forgo Basel, and focus on the Ironman, and finishing 35 By 35 before my birthday, and throwing my original master plan for this life quest out the window.

Cut to early May when after enduring months of grueling training and soul-searching I decided to truly take advantage of this moment in my life to test myself and vowed to race both Ironman Lake Tahoe and the Basel marathon. My plan was to race IMLT on Sunday 9/21, rest for a couple of days, then fly to Switzerland and race the Basel marathon on Sunday, 9/28, this ridiculous new proposition would take “going out with a bang” to a whole new level.

Along the way I had started to look for work, then stopped to solely focus on my BIG races of the Summer and the Ironman in September, when an opportunity came my way that I did not have the heart to say ‘no’ to. Hannah’s Varsity volleyball coach asked me to be the Program Coordinator for the Alemany Girls Volleyball, which was awesome, but I had an inkling it would be a pretty demanding position, and my training may suffer, but I said ‘yes’, because I wanted to help as much as possible, and I wanted to be involved for Hannah’s sake. Honestly, I don’t think she really cared either way, but I took on the voluntary position, which added some heft to my already ambitious load.

Miraculously, I was able to achieve all of the training for my races in May, June, and July, but as I mentioned in my #35 post, the San Francisco marathon humbled me, my body was finally yelping for some rest, when what I needed to do in my schedule was focus on six very intense weeks of Ironman training, which included an overwhelming emphasis on cycling due the challenge of racing in Lake Tahoe. 

On top of that, this Volleyball gig was shaping up to look more and more like a “real” job every day, mainly because I needed to be available at all times of the day for questions from parents, and tasks from the coach, and even though I am confident training for 4-6 hours per day would have been possible, it may have burdened the success of the program, and the happiness of the players and parents. So in early August I made the most excruciating decision I have in years, almost as bad as when I decided not to play basketball my Senior year of high school, I decided not to race Ironman Lake Tahoe.

Luckily, I was able to get back my money from the rental house in time, but was out $700+ from the registration fee because the WTC has a laughable, if any, refund policy. Marion kept assuring me not to worry about it, I did have some cash from selling one of my bikes in July, which eased my conscience slightly, but I knew in my gut that pulling out was the right move. Next, I stopped my Ironman training, switched to recovery, and mainly running, because no matter what I was going to run the Basel marathon on 9/28.

Let’s fast forward to the morning of September 21^st when I begrudgingly hopped online to Ironman.com to see what was happening at Ironman Lake Tahoe, “What the???” The race was canceled due to the heavy smoke from the King’s wildfire that had been surrounding the area. I felt terrible for all of the athletes who were at the starting line and had their hopes dashed minutes before the gun went off, on the other hand, and I feel awful admitting this, but I was relieved that I was actually not missing the race at all, that’s horrible, I know, but I am human. There have been many opinions bouncing around about how the WTC handled the call, but I have faith it was the right move, safety first my friends. 

Personally, I was thrilled to have that deadening weight of bailing on IMLT lifted from my shoulders, and I was now able to fully enjoy my last few days before flying to Switzerland and simply look forward to running the marathon with fresh legs, an open mind, and Grinch-like bursting heart. This was it.

#34 - Mountains 2 Beach Marathon - Fastest Race of My Life

I have always had such respect and admiration for elite runners who are able to consistently run 90+ mile weeks with their training leading up to races. I have typically kept my weekly averages in the mid 50 mile range because I need to fit in time to swim and ride my bike, and those activities eat up a lot of precious daylight. However, after I finished my “March Madness” month of two marathons, I decided that I wanted to put the bike and swim training on the back burner, and amp up my run training in preparation for my “A” race of the year, the Mountains to the Beach Marathon on May 25^th, in Ventura, CA. This race was high on my priority list because I knew it would be fast, it is literally all downhill starting from Ojai and ending 26.2 miles down the road in Ventura. I know what you're thinking, and yes, that Ojai which was Iris McKay’s favorite place on earth, and would always try to drag Dylan off to in the high school years of BH 90210; Iris was right, Ojai is lovely. I knew I could train specifically for this race, whereas my 35th marathon would be jumbled up in the midst of other endurance events, but this race had my undivided attention. I was excited to test myself with the kind of training I had always wanted to try, but was too scared to attempt, now was my chance.

My friend and Coach Hadara was on board with my challenge and laid out some spectacular work outs for me over the six week ramp up to the race after my Griffith Park finish. I did add on a few miles here and there to reach the weekly numbers I wanted, which she was okay with, but I pretty much stuck to the plan: week one start with 60 miles, then increase every week until I tapped out at 90 miles per week. For the last eighteen months or so I had been faithful to the 16 mile long run, no more, no less, a trick I pulled out he Hanson’s Running Project, but this time around I needed to  add a few more miles to my long run, 17, 18, 19, and 20 here I come! 

The key to my big jump in mileage was having at least two work outs per day, a longer one in the morning, and a recovery jaunt in the afternoon/early evening. In my experience this is a somewhat civilized way to crush yourself, long/hard running in the morning, short/mellow running in the afternoon, I have tried the opposite, short then long, and it is just a brutal way to live your life. That said, what is the secret magic trick of it all? That’s simple, eating proper and plenty of nutrition before, during, and after runs. On a daily basis I eat countless bananas, always prepare a BIG smoothie in between work outs, and concoct a salad the size of most bath tubs loaded with every vegetable and nut variety in the house for dinner, yum.

I could go into how each day felt, each run in fact, but I will sum up by saying that when I reached my weekly mileage goals I felt like I just aced a Final exam. I needed to be calculated, consistent, and resilient day after exhausting day. This kind of training was both numbing and exhilarating, I was excited and nervous every day when I woke up and assessed my day ahead, I treated it like a job, which has kind of been the case for my Ironman training for years, but this race prep was about me living an “out of reach” lifestyle that I never dreamed I could handle. I don’t think I ever cried, but I nearly passed out on more than a few occasions, still I reached my 90 mile weekly goal at the end of it all, and knew that I was more prepared for this marathon than any other, #34 was going to be legendary.

I drove up to Ventura the night before the race because I had to catch a very early bus on race morning  up to Ojai. Honestly, I also felt like I earned a treat after putting forth the most brutal training block to date, so out my door and off I went 75 minutes up the coast to sleepy, yummy Ventura; a town I instantly fell in love with, and would love to lay stakes in as soon as my book sells millions, and I can spring Marion from work. Maybe not tomorrow, but some day…

On my jaunt to the bus stop, I met a few fellow runners from Chicago, they laid out some quick previous marathon times during our pre-dawn chit-chat session, so I knew this race would live up to the hype as a near "gimme" Boston qualifier. I was excited about the heavy downhill, even with my disastrous past with heavy downhill marathons, remember Tucson? Nevertheless, I felt good about this one, I had confidence that my thunderous “cycling” quads could handle the constant pounding of my 150lb. bod against the pavement for over three hours, it might get ugly, but she was up for it.

The race start was a bit odd because there were Port-O-Potty’s lined up along the streets for blocks, but the lines moved at glacial pace, so I decided comfort was more important than starting position, and bestowed all my faith in my timing chip. Once I started I was motivated to bounce and dart my way through the very speedy field, because once we hit the bike path a bottle neck was unavoidable, so this big girl ran as fast as she could to find the perfect pace mates once the course got real.

An odd feeling washed over me at about the 10 mile mark, it was as if my mind was not quite in rhythm with my legs, and I started to feel light-headed, and unknowingly slowed my pace. I knew I needed fuel so I popped a Clif Block, told my legs to keep going, this fast pace is exactly what we had been training for, now was the time to go for it, sub 3:20 baby!!!

Further down the hill I tasted salt in the air and knew the ocean was close, but I still had the last annoying 7 miles to slog through before I would be done for the day. Suddenly, my GPS lost its connection to the satellite, mile 17 lasted WAAAY too long, which meant I was on my own for pacing… hmm, it’s a good thing this was not my first rodeo, it was time to dust off my “perceived effort” skills and take it home to the finish.

The last 2 miles were brutal, I felt like a slug, but then I saw the finish line banner about 600 meters down the beach, and I decided to switch on my “Vista” speed and obliterate myself in an effort to creep under 3:20hrs. 

I picked off a few runners in the chute, one girl seemed a little annoyed, but I’m sure she learned a lesson that day, give the finish EVERYTHING you have, and don’t be afraid to shatter your competitors dreams, it’s a race. Once I crossed the line I looked at my watch, 3:20:26, so close…. I stumbled around my super-fast comrades cloying for water bottles then plopped down on the grass and smiled, I PR’d, the hard work paid off, and I only had one more marathon before this quest would be over.