I've got a date for my Graduate Records Exam! May 9th at 8am Pacific whatever Time. I can never remember if we're saving daylight or in the standard version. Anyway. It's a 3.5 hour exam testing everything I've forgotten since elementary school, but I'm becoming well prepared.
The first thing I bought was the study guide to the GRE published by the company that makes the GRE, figuring that would be my best inside information. It came with details on the GRE, tips for studying, and in-depth help with each of the sections: Analytical Writing, Verbal Reasoning and Quantitative Reasoning. There were practice questions and it comes with 4 practice exams: 2 in the book and two on the accompanying cd. After going through the whole book, I took the test on the cd because it is the most close to the actual exam. Boy was it a mess.
I feel I did fairly well on the analytical writing. Better on the second one than the first. But when I got to the verbal reasoning section, I was incredibly dismayed. Lugubrious. Abject. Those are a couple of my new words, because apparently I lack an sort of substantial vocabulary. I consider myself an eruidte young woman but the language used in the verbal reasoning section was abstruse at best. However, I have aplomb that my assiduousness will help in my endeavor to ameliorate my vocabulary.
Who talks like that, right? Large sections of this exam, that's who.
In the math sections (quantitative reasoning) I did pretty well. Better on the first section than the second. During the first section I ran out of time and had to throw out random guesses for the last three questions, so I went through the section quicker on the next round and didn't do so well. On top of reviewing the subject mater of the exam, I'm also learning test taking strategies.
I got a second review guide "GRE For Dummies", a vocab builder book that uses some words commonly found on the GRE and ties them in with funny mnemonics, a vocab flash card type game for my kindle, a book of practice questions for the math section and a book entitled "How To Get Into Grad School (Even if You're Broke, Dimwitted, or Spent Your Undergraduate Years so Smashed You Can't Even Spell GPA)". That last one's a good one. Cynical, but informative.
I've been spending what free time I have studying and stalking prospective professors who I can convince to vote for me when they review applications for grad students as well as one who might take me under their wing and mentor me through school, and sponsor me so my tuition can be paid or waived. I have some really great leads but my priorities are currently on doing well on the GRE, so most of that will have to wait another couple of weeks.
That's all for now!
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Big Changes
A couple weeks ago on a flight to Phoenix, I sat next to a nice lady who spent the entire 2 hours telling me her life story. I don't remember most of it as she wasn't entirely clear on what it is she does. But as we were landing, she turns to me and says "I've been going on this whole time and never asked what it is that you do". I wasn't prepared to get into another long conversation, being as we were landing, and said "I'm a wildland firefighter for the Forest Service." I don't know if it was how I said it or if she was already poised to ask the question, but she tilted her head and asked "Is it your passion?"
I hesitated. I suppose if it really was my passion my reply would've come a lot quicker. I thought about it, kinda thrown off by the question. No one has ever asked me that before and come to think of it, I've never really asked myself that before. I told her I really enjoy my job, it's fun and exciting....
She recommended that I go online and do some career tests to see if maybe there's something out there that I hadn't considered. I told her I would. I thought about it for a few more days until I was back at work. Bored, I logged on to the computer and took a couple career assessment tests. I don't even remember what they said, but there were a lot of "analyst" words in there. Senior analyst this, executive analyst that. What a load of crock. Me? An analyst? Remember, I'm practical, not logical. Just ask my engineer uncle.
I've been thinking about changing careers for quite some time. Don't get me wrong, I have a great job, but I've gotten to the point where I've kinda had enough. I really miss being able to see my friends and family on a regular basis. I miss the warm weather of San Diego and the convenience of living in a city. I've been wanting to go back to school and get my master's degree for quite awhile but I haven't been able to figure out what it is I want to do.
I also wondered if I would miss being in fire. When I saw a big plume of smoke on the horizon, would I long to be on the responding trucks, blowing by the road blocks past members of the general public that were fleeing the area?
After much thought, here's what I will not miss: not having a summer, loading 45 lbs on myself and hiking as fast as I can up a super steep mountain, poison oak, sleeping in abandoned lots behind gas stations in towns such as Laramie, WY, fire camp food, driving for hours across the US trying to keep myself dehydrated so I'm not "that guy" that has to ask for a restroom stop, cutting line all night and in to the next day, driving the top heavy buggies on poorly maintained roads, trying to burn piles in the pouring rain (and wondering why they won't light), Christmas Toe, how eaten up my scalp gets from going 14 days without a shower,and wearing long sleeve, long pants and wool socks in the middle of summer...in Arizona.
Lately I'm coming to realize that our lives are so short and go by so fast...and we only get one. I'm already at the age where I marvel at how time has flown by. And as my friend Corey said to me, "This life ain't no trial run". Amen to that. I keep thinking about how long I have until I can retire... so I can really start living my life. Well, that's at least 15 years from now and I would hate for those 15 years to go by without me.
Having helped raise Emily for the first few years of her life, I felt terrible leaving her to move up to Frazier Park, but I was still close enough that I could go home on the weekends. Now I'm not and I've missed a pretty big stretch of time in her life. When I went down to San Diego to be with Candace and the family for the birth of her second child, Charlotte, I really realized how much I want them in my life. I've never wanted my own children, so Candace's girls are the closest I'll ever have to children. On the day I left, I held Charlotte in my arms and felt absolutely terrible for leaving. By the time I came back, she'd be only a few months shy of a year old...old enough to wonder who the heck the stranger is that just showed up and pretends to know her. I don't want Charlotte to forget me and I don't want to miss out on any more of Emily's life. A good majority of my friends are in San Diego and I'd like to get back there.
I would like to one day own a dog. I suppose that's the closest I've ever had to a ticking biological clock. Obviously in my current job I cannot have a dog...or even a live plant.
I would like to quit beating myself up so much physically and mentally for my job. I would love to have a "normal" job where I can go home every night and use my energy for cooler things, like marathons, triathlons and century bike rides. I'd like to get back into swimming. I'd like to return to surfing.
Do I have a plan? Yes I do. Being as this post is already as long as it is, I'll sum it up and leave out all the crazy background.
I'm currently studying to take the Graduate Records Exam (GRE) which is the required exam for my major. I will take it around June, maybe a little earlier depending on how the studying is going. That gives me enough time that if I don't do well, I can take it again. From September to November I'll be sending in my applications to graduate school at San Jose State University, UCLA, UC Davis and San Francisco State University to get my master's in Meteorology or Atmospheric Science (the programs differ a little from school to school). When (if?) I'm accepted, I will resign from the Forest Service, sell my house and go back to school. At that time I will be close to major airports where I can buy a $50 plane ticket to head down to San Diego for the weekend, or hop over to Phoenix or Denver. Right now it's around $400 and involves driving an hour to the nearest airport.
After graduating with my master's degree in meteorology, I will look for jobs in the San Diego area either doing forecasting (not broadcast forecasting- I don't need to be on tv or the radio), research, or teaching. I can work for the government (not a fan) or private industries. I can teach at community colleges and universities, or I can get on research teams that are focusing on global climate change or weather monitoring and early warning systems for severe weather. I would absolutely love to do work with storm systems.
I will have a well-paying career that continually ranks high in the "Best Jobs in America" type surveys, I will be home, I will have a dog, and maybe be able to buy a house again. I'm going to do a triathlon and ride a century bike tour. I'm going to have nice weather year round. I will own (and keep alive) several plants and I might even enjoy camping once in awhile. I will be around to spend time with and support my friends and family.
After all, life is not about the end result. As cheesy as it sounds, it is so definately about the journey. I'm really excited to be moving on to a new chapter in my life...nervous about getting in to colleges of course, but who wouldn't be? It's going to be super exciting! I'm even excited about gaining a new capacity for logical thinking. I have to take 3 semesters of Calculus and 2 semesters of Calculus Based Physics (what?). Strangely enough, I'm kinda looking forward to those classes.
I'll post updates when they come around, but I'm looking at starting school in the spring of 2014 or in the case of UCLA who accepts applications a year ahead of time, fall of 2014. For now I'll continue stufying for the GRE and writing my Statement of Purpose.
I hesitated. I suppose if it really was my passion my reply would've come a lot quicker. I thought about it, kinda thrown off by the question. No one has ever asked me that before and come to think of it, I've never really asked myself that before. I told her I really enjoy my job, it's fun and exciting....
She recommended that I go online and do some career tests to see if maybe there's something out there that I hadn't considered. I told her I would. I thought about it for a few more days until I was back at work. Bored, I logged on to the computer and took a couple career assessment tests. I don't even remember what they said, but there were a lot of "analyst" words in there. Senior analyst this, executive analyst that. What a load of crock. Me? An analyst? Remember, I'm practical, not logical. Just ask my engineer uncle.
I've been thinking about changing careers for quite some time. Don't get me wrong, I have a great job, but I've gotten to the point where I've kinda had enough. I really miss being able to see my friends and family on a regular basis. I miss the warm weather of San Diego and the convenience of living in a city. I've been wanting to go back to school and get my master's degree for quite awhile but I haven't been able to figure out what it is I want to do.
I also wondered if I would miss being in fire. When I saw a big plume of smoke on the horizon, would I long to be on the responding trucks, blowing by the road blocks past members of the general public that were fleeing the area?
After much thought, here's what I will not miss: not having a summer, loading 45 lbs on myself and hiking as fast as I can up a super steep mountain, poison oak, sleeping in abandoned lots behind gas stations in towns such as Laramie, WY, fire camp food, driving for hours across the US trying to keep myself dehydrated so I'm not "that guy" that has to ask for a restroom stop, cutting line all night and in to the next day, driving the top heavy buggies on poorly maintained roads, trying to burn piles in the pouring rain (and wondering why they won't light), Christmas Toe, how eaten up my scalp gets from going 14 days without a shower,and wearing long sleeve, long pants and wool socks in the middle of summer...in Arizona.
Lately I'm coming to realize that our lives are so short and go by so fast...and we only get one. I'm already at the age where I marvel at how time has flown by. And as my friend Corey said to me, "This life ain't no trial run". Amen to that. I keep thinking about how long I have until I can retire... so I can really start living my life. Well, that's at least 15 years from now and I would hate for those 15 years to go by without me.
Having helped raise Emily for the first few years of her life, I felt terrible leaving her to move up to Frazier Park, but I was still close enough that I could go home on the weekends. Now I'm not and I've missed a pretty big stretch of time in her life. When I went down to San Diego to be with Candace and the family for the birth of her second child, Charlotte, I really realized how much I want them in my life. I've never wanted my own children, so Candace's girls are the closest I'll ever have to children. On the day I left, I held Charlotte in my arms and felt absolutely terrible for leaving. By the time I came back, she'd be only a few months shy of a year old...old enough to wonder who the heck the stranger is that just showed up and pretends to know her. I don't want Charlotte to forget me and I don't want to miss out on any more of Emily's life. A good majority of my friends are in San Diego and I'd like to get back there.
I would like to one day own a dog. I suppose that's the closest I've ever had to a ticking biological clock. Obviously in my current job I cannot have a dog...or even a live plant.
I would like to quit beating myself up so much physically and mentally for my job. I would love to have a "normal" job where I can go home every night and use my energy for cooler things, like marathons, triathlons and century bike rides. I'd like to get back into swimming. I'd like to return to surfing.
Do I have a plan? Yes I do. Being as this post is already as long as it is, I'll sum it up and leave out all the crazy background.
I'm currently studying to take the Graduate Records Exam (GRE) which is the required exam for my major. I will take it around June, maybe a little earlier depending on how the studying is going. That gives me enough time that if I don't do well, I can take it again. From September to November I'll be sending in my applications to graduate school at San Jose State University, UCLA, UC Davis and San Francisco State University to get my master's in Meteorology or Atmospheric Science (the programs differ a little from school to school). When (if?) I'm accepted, I will resign from the Forest Service, sell my house and go back to school. At that time I will be close to major airports where I can buy a $50 plane ticket to head down to San Diego for the weekend, or hop over to Phoenix or Denver. Right now it's around $400 and involves driving an hour to the nearest airport.
After graduating with my master's degree in meteorology, I will look for jobs in the San Diego area either doing forecasting (not broadcast forecasting- I don't need to be on tv or the radio), research, or teaching. I can work for the government (not a fan) or private industries. I can teach at community colleges and universities, or I can get on research teams that are focusing on global climate change or weather monitoring and early warning systems for severe weather. I would absolutely love to do work with storm systems.
I will have a well-paying career that continually ranks high in the "Best Jobs in America" type surveys, I will be home, I will have a dog, and maybe be able to buy a house again. I'm going to do a triathlon and ride a century bike tour. I'm going to have nice weather year round. I will own (and keep alive) several plants and I might even enjoy camping once in awhile. I will be around to spend time with and support my friends and family.
After all, life is not about the end result. As cheesy as it sounds, it is so definately about the journey. I'm really excited to be moving on to a new chapter in my life...nervous about getting in to colleges of course, but who wouldn't be? It's going to be super exciting! I'm even excited about gaining a new capacity for logical thinking. I have to take 3 semesters of Calculus and 2 semesters of Calculus Based Physics (what?). Strangely enough, I'm kinda looking forward to those classes.
I'll post updates when they come around, but I'm looking at starting school in the spring of 2014 or in the case of UCLA who accepts applications a year ahead of time, fall of 2014. For now I'll continue stufying for the GRE and writing my Statement of Purpose.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Back In The Sneakers
Here's a link to my marathon photos (Click HERE). Don't judge, it was a rough day. I had also preplanned not to smile because I wanted to look tough and intimidating. It had the opposite efffect. I ended up looking like I was suffering the whole way. Well, I guess I kind of was. There are a couple of me smiling which look pretty decent so next time I'll try to smile more.
So I've pretty much been convinced by friends, family and bystanders to do the Boston Marathon next year. From what I understand it's a fairly prestigious event and "people train their whole lives to make it to Boston". Yeah, crazy people maybe.
Out of curiosity, I would like to find out what would happen if I added some speed work to my training and actually trained like a serious runner instead of the half-hearted runs I've been doing. That's not to say I've been slacking off, it's just that simply doing the mileage is hard enough as it is, let alone pushing the intensity while doing it.
I've decided to try out some training techniques that "real runners" use and see how I do in a half marathon at the end of April.
Today was my first day back to running. I only took 9 days off running since that will leave me 12 weeks to train for the half marathon. I did our lovely signature run up the mountain behind our station. It's only 3 miles round trip but it kicked my butt.
Trying to get myself out the door to even do the run was tough. It occured to me that I just don't really enjoy running. I love the benefits of running. I love how it clears my head and keeps me in shape. And obviously, accomplishing things like qualifying for Boston is pretty cool. But the actual run. Nope, don't really enjoy it so much. I guess sometimes I do, but not when it's cold outside.
It wasn't even that cold, relatively. It was 44 degrees but cloudy and windy. I wasn't thrilled. But I laced up the ol' trail sneakers and took off up the hill.
I should mention I've been absolutely exhausted lately. Since the marathon I've been really fond of daily naps. Sometimes even twice daily. I got home from San Diego on Wednesday night and Thursday morning I drove out to San Francisco (a 5 hour drive) to recertify my Wilderness EMT. I had class Friday, Saturday and Sunday and then drove back home Sunday afternoon. I got home at 6:30pm, ate and went to bed. Yesterday morning it was back to the drawing board: up at 4:30am, off to the gym, then to work.
Yesterday I had a work physical and it appears I've got some white blood cells in my urine. The doctor says it's probably a bladder infection (which I don't really have any symptoms of) but I'm also wondering if it had anything to do with just having done a marathon. They're sending it in for a culture. It could explain why I've been so tired lately. I thought it was just from my run. I guess we'll find out.
So my run today was slow, and pretty tough but that's ok. I don't want to push too hard too soon or there could be consequences. I just wish the motivation to get out the door would get easier.
So I've pretty much been convinced by friends, family and bystanders to do the Boston Marathon next year. From what I understand it's a fairly prestigious event and "people train their whole lives to make it to Boston". Yeah, crazy people maybe.
Out of curiosity, I would like to find out what would happen if I added some speed work to my training and actually trained like a serious runner instead of the half-hearted runs I've been doing. That's not to say I've been slacking off, it's just that simply doing the mileage is hard enough as it is, let alone pushing the intensity while doing it.
I've decided to try out some training techniques that "real runners" use and see how I do in a half marathon at the end of April.
Today was my first day back to running. I only took 9 days off running since that will leave me 12 weeks to train for the half marathon. I did our lovely signature run up the mountain behind our station. It's only 3 miles round trip but it kicked my butt.
Trying to get myself out the door to even do the run was tough. It occured to me that I just don't really enjoy running. I love the benefits of running. I love how it clears my head and keeps me in shape. And obviously, accomplishing things like qualifying for Boston is pretty cool. But the actual run. Nope, don't really enjoy it so much. I guess sometimes I do, but not when it's cold outside.
It wasn't even that cold, relatively. It was 44 degrees but cloudy and windy. I wasn't thrilled. But I laced up the ol' trail sneakers and took off up the hill.
I should mention I've been absolutely exhausted lately. Since the marathon I've been really fond of daily naps. Sometimes even twice daily. I got home from San Diego on Wednesday night and Thursday morning I drove out to San Francisco (a 5 hour drive) to recertify my Wilderness EMT. I had class Friday, Saturday and Sunday and then drove back home Sunday afternoon. I got home at 6:30pm, ate and went to bed. Yesterday morning it was back to the drawing board: up at 4:30am, off to the gym, then to work.
Yesterday I had a work physical and it appears I've got some white blood cells in my urine. The doctor says it's probably a bladder infection (which I don't really have any symptoms of) but I'm also wondering if it had anything to do with just having done a marathon. They're sending it in for a culture. It could explain why I've been so tired lately. I thought it was just from my run. I guess we'll find out.
So my run today was slow, and pretty tough but that's ok. I don't want to push too hard too soon or there could be consequences. I just wish the motivation to get out the door would get easier.
Monday, January 28, 2013
The Marathon
Debbie and I survived the marathon...mostly. We're hobbling around the house this morning popping advil and wondering how we're going to go about our day.
The marathon started fairly early as far as marathons go. 6:15am. Debbie lives 45 minutes from the start so we ended up leaving at 4am. It was drizzling pretty hard and all I planned to wear was a tank top and shorts. Debbie and I poked a head and arm holes in trash bags and put them on.
I always start out too fast at the beginning of the marathon due to excitement and adrenaline and the large crowd. I planned to be around 3:45 for the finish so I started out following a pacer that was toting a small sign that read 3:40. I was wearing my Garmin GPS watch and it told me I was running way too fast for a 3:40. I wondered if our official pacer was wearing a gps. He was doing terrible at pacing. Around the second mile he turned to the group and informed us we were a bit ahead and then started making excuses about satellite reception and this and that. Irritated, I decided to pass the group and do my own thing.
Only a mile or so later, I found myself approaching another pace group. I noticed most people would slow down quite a bit going uphill, so I was pretty thankful for all the training I had done on the mountain road behind the station. As I neared the group, I read the sign: 3:30. I told myself I was going too fast and it would only be a matter of time before I just bonked and would probably either end up walking to the finish line or not finishing at all. I hung back, maybe a hundred feet behind the group... as if that changed the fact that I was way too fast.
After I caught up with them again on the next hill I decided I'd hang with them for awhile and see what happened. The spectators lining the street cheered for us as we passed and shouted that we were the largest pace group they had seen and to stick together, we were doing awesome. Yeah, awesome but I was going too fast and was going to suffer from this before long.
A pace group is made up of a couple people who are trained to run at a certain pace and they carry a little sign that reads when they plan to pass the finish line. Mind you, I was in a pace group 15 minutes faster than where I should've been.
I started to picture myself going a 3:30. My last marathon was a 3:53 and it just so happened that the Boston Marathon qualifying time for my age group is 3:35. I was not planning on running Boston and really didn't have any reason to try to qualify. It just didn't appeal to me.
It wasn't long before I became obsessed with trying to keep up with the group. It was such a change from the isolated runs I had been doing. The cheers from the crowds lining the street, the cowbells they were ringing, the view of the brightly colored sneakers pounding the pavement in front of me. It felt like I was in a race...which technically I was. But when running a marathon, there's a large spread of finishing times. It's one of the few sports where you can combine elite athletes with more mortal athletes. The first place male went a 2:19, the first place female went a 2:30 or something. So in reality, I was not in the race. But it felt like it anyway.
Coming down a large hill, my pace group that was supposed to be running an 8 min mile, was running a 7 minute mile. Despite the fact that I was now going a whole minute and a half faster per mile than I should be, I continued with my obsession of keeping up. I consider this a personality flaw but I'm not going to get into analyzing that.
As we got to the bottom of the hill, I ran into Debbie on her way up the hill. We slapped a high five and exchanged words of encouragement.
At the halfway point, we were at a 1:45 which is quite a bit faster than I've ever run for a half marathon. I thought, "Wow, that's really fast!" Then I did the math in my head. Half a marathon at 1:45 plus another half at 1:45 would have me finishing at a 3:30. So in order to finish at 3:30 I was going to have to run another 1:45. Why didn't I think about this 10 miles ago? Terrible move.
Of course by this point I had totally committed to the group. My body was starting to hurt. My hips and upper butt muscles were feeling a lot of impact. All the packages of sugary gel were hurting my stomach. I had already sloshed a recovery beverage into my right eye and water into my left. I was getting quite a bit of rub on the bottom of my left foot. The group continued on...so I followed. My gps quit receiving satellites.
We got back on the ocean front road and I tried to "sight see" and looked over at the waves watching for dolphins. I was in too much discomfort to watch for long and I focused again on the flourescent sneakers in front of me. The ladies leading the group promised us that we were about to turn around and head back and it would be downhill with a tail wind the rest of the way back. I believed them.
After mile 18, I had to poo. Sorry folks, gotta be blunt. I pulled over to one of the porta potties and had a few minute stop. When I came out, I looked up the hill (that's right, UP the hill) at my 3:30 group and wondered if I'd ever catch them again. I told myself to take my time, I had about 8 miles to catch up.
I ran too hard and caught up within a mile. It was another bad move. Once I got in with the group again, I took a mental inventory of how my body felt. It was pretty bad. But there I was, committed again.
We went over several more hills and I was starting to fade. By mile 20 I didn't want to run any more. I wanted to walk but I knew if I did I wouldn't start running again. It would be over.
By mile 22 I got pretty agitated and couldn't handle the sight of the shoes in front of me anymore so I moved up and ran next to the pacers.
At mile 24 I had had enough and just wanted to be done. So I pulled ahead of the pacers and took off running. By that point the marathon runners had merged with the half marathon runners and there were plenty of half marathon runners running much slower than the marathoners at that point. I felt like the large blister on the bottom of my foot was going to split wide open. I struggled to get around the slower runners and began to get angry.
I ran faster. As I hit mile 25 I realized I had pushed too hard. My hamstring was on the verge of a major spasm and I was on the verge of collapsing. I didn't know what else to do so I ran even faster. I had to get to the finish line before I fell over and needed an ambulance.
It seemed like I would never make it to the finish line. I passed a bunch of people, dodging around them. I just wanted to get there so I could stop.
I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. The clock read 3:31 (so my pace group didn't make it) as I finished. I was corralled through to get my finishers medal, a mylar blanket (kinda like aluminum foil to hold in the heat), water and a bag of food. I hobbled to get out of the corral area and almost fell over in front of a lady. I regained my balance and hobbled out of the gate to find a corner to collapse in. I was in so much pain I wanted to cry. But there was too many people and I didn't want to attract attention. I could hardly walk.
I found a corner of fence to camp out in and tried to stretch/cool down. It wasn't going to happen. I sat down on the ground. My face must've said it all because I was approached by a lady who asked if I was ok. I kinda chuckled and said yes.
I was going to have to find a medical tent and get tylenol. It was clear across the parking lot. I decided I would get my bag from the gear check table first. I hobbled over and gave the guy my check tag number. He was having a hard time finding it and I was having a hard time standing. I almost told him I'd be back for it later. I crouched down by the table and attempted to remain standing. I switched between standing and crouching a few times. I was going down. Pretty quickly. I had to get to the medical tent. There were so many people.
Finally the guy found my bag and I consolidated the bags I had accumulated and hobbled towards the medical tent. As I got there, two people sat down to be iced so the lady turned from me to handle them. I was going to fall over. I leaned on the table and focused on breathing. I crouched down again on the ground and tried to be patient. A line started to form behind the icers. I was going to be passed over again. Oh my god.
I moved over to where the line was forming and tried to stand patiently. The two icers got up and another lady sat down. I couldn't do this. I wasn't going to make it. I wanted to cry.
I made eye contact with the medical lady and must have looked pretty desperate. I told her I just needed some tylenol or advil or something. She handed me the tylenol and I hobbled off toward the car.
I dropped my stuff off and took the tylenol and grabbed my camera to go wait for Debbie at the finish line. I found a spot to sit down and change into dry clothes.
Debbie finally finished and we hobbled to the car, discussing our races.
"You went a 3:31?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah."
"That's awesome!" She said.
"Yeah."
"Wait, what's Boston?"
"3:35."
"Carrie, you just qualified for Boston!" She said.
"Um, yeah."
"You're going to Boston!!"
"Uhhh.... I don't know."
"You have to go! You can't qualify and not go!" She told me.
I can't make these sort of decisions until I no longer hurt. Every which way I turned last night everything hurt. This morning I can hardly walk and even my back and shoulders hurt. I don't know why people do this.
So my official time was 3:31.08. The race photos aren't up yet but when they are I'll post the link. It'll be interesting to see how my face changes throughout the race. Until then, this is Debbie and I posing after the race.
The marathon started fairly early as far as marathons go. 6:15am. Debbie lives 45 minutes from the start so we ended up leaving at 4am. It was drizzling pretty hard and all I planned to wear was a tank top and shorts. Debbie and I poked a head and arm holes in trash bags and put them on.
I always start out too fast at the beginning of the marathon due to excitement and adrenaline and the large crowd. I planned to be around 3:45 for the finish so I started out following a pacer that was toting a small sign that read 3:40. I was wearing my Garmin GPS watch and it told me I was running way too fast for a 3:40. I wondered if our official pacer was wearing a gps. He was doing terrible at pacing. Around the second mile he turned to the group and informed us we were a bit ahead and then started making excuses about satellite reception and this and that. Irritated, I decided to pass the group and do my own thing.
Only a mile or so later, I found myself approaching another pace group. I noticed most people would slow down quite a bit going uphill, so I was pretty thankful for all the training I had done on the mountain road behind the station. As I neared the group, I read the sign: 3:30. I told myself I was going too fast and it would only be a matter of time before I just bonked and would probably either end up walking to the finish line or not finishing at all. I hung back, maybe a hundred feet behind the group... as if that changed the fact that I was way too fast.
After I caught up with them again on the next hill I decided I'd hang with them for awhile and see what happened. The spectators lining the street cheered for us as we passed and shouted that we were the largest pace group they had seen and to stick together, we were doing awesome. Yeah, awesome but I was going too fast and was going to suffer from this before long.
A pace group is made up of a couple people who are trained to run at a certain pace and they carry a little sign that reads when they plan to pass the finish line. Mind you, I was in a pace group 15 minutes faster than where I should've been.
I started to picture myself going a 3:30. My last marathon was a 3:53 and it just so happened that the Boston Marathon qualifying time for my age group is 3:35. I was not planning on running Boston and really didn't have any reason to try to qualify. It just didn't appeal to me.
It wasn't long before I became obsessed with trying to keep up with the group. It was such a change from the isolated runs I had been doing. The cheers from the crowds lining the street, the cowbells they were ringing, the view of the brightly colored sneakers pounding the pavement in front of me. It felt like I was in a race...which technically I was. But when running a marathon, there's a large spread of finishing times. It's one of the few sports where you can combine elite athletes with more mortal athletes. The first place male went a 2:19, the first place female went a 2:30 or something. So in reality, I was not in the race. But it felt like it anyway.
Coming down a large hill, my pace group that was supposed to be running an 8 min mile, was running a 7 minute mile. Despite the fact that I was now going a whole minute and a half faster per mile than I should be, I continued with my obsession of keeping up. I consider this a personality flaw but I'm not going to get into analyzing that.
As we got to the bottom of the hill, I ran into Debbie on her way up the hill. We slapped a high five and exchanged words of encouragement.
At the halfway point, we were at a 1:45 which is quite a bit faster than I've ever run for a half marathon. I thought, "Wow, that's really fast!" Then I did the math in my head. Half a marathon at 1:45 plus another half at 1:45 would have me finishing at a 3:30. So in order to finish at 3:30 I was going to have to run another 1:45. Why didn't I think about this 10 miles ago? Terrible move.
Of course by this point I had totally committed to the group. My body was starting to hurt. My hips and upper butt muscles were feeling a lot of impact. All the packages of sugary gel were hurting my stomach. I had already sloshed a recovery beverage into my right eye and water into my left. I was getting quite a bit of rub on the bottom of my left foot. The group continued on...so I followed. My gps quit receiving satellites.
We got back on the ocean front road and I tried to "sight see" and looked over at the waves watching for dolphins. I was in too much discomfort to watch for long and I focused again on the flourescent sneakers in front of me. The ladies leading the group promised us that we were about to turn around and head back and it would be downhill with a tail wind the rest of the way back. I believed them.
After mile 18, I had to poo. Sorry folks, gotta be blunt. I pulled over to one of the porta potties and had a few minute stop. When I came out, I looked up the hill (that's right, UP the hill) at my 3:30 group and wondered if I'd ever catch them again. I told myself to take my time, I had about 8 miles to catch up.
I ran too hard and caught up within a mile. It was another bad move. Once I got in with the group again, I took a mental inventory of how my body felt. It was pretty bad. But there I was, committed again.
We went over several more hills and I was starting to fade. By mile 20 I didn't want to run any more. I wanted to walk but I knew if I did I wouldn't start running again. It would be over.
By mile 22 I got pretty agitated and couldn't handle the sight of the shoes in front of me anymore so I moved up and ran next to the pacers.
At mile 24 I had had enough and just wanted to be done. So I pulled ahead of the pacers and took off running. By that point the marathon runners had merged with the half marathon runners and there were plenty of half marathon runners running much slower than the marathoners at that point. I felt like the large blister on the bottom of my foot was going to split wide open. I struggled to get around the slower runners and began to get angry.
I ran faster. As I hit mile 25 I realized I had pushed too hard. My hamstring was on the verge of a major spasm and I was on the verge of collapsing. I didn't know what else to do so I ran even faster. I had to get to the finish line before I fell over and needed an ambulance.
It seemed like I would never make it to the finish line. I passed a bunch of people, dodging around them. I just wanted to get there so I could stop.
I rounded the corner and saw the finish line. The clock read 3:31 (so my pace group didn't make it) as I finished. I was corralled through to get my finishers medal, a mylar blanket (kinda like aluminum foil to hold in the heat), water and a bag of food. I hobbled to get out of the corral area and almost fell over in front of a lady. I regained my balance and hobbled out of the gate to find a corner to collapse in. I was in so much pain I wanted to cry. But there was too many people and I didn't want to attract attention. I could hardly walk.
I found a corner of fence to camp out in and tried to stretch/cool down. It wasn't going to happen. I sat down on the ground. My face must've said it all because I was approached by a lady who asked if I was ok. I kinda chuckled and said yes.
I was going to have to find a medical tent and get tylenol. It was clear across the parking lot. I decided I would get my bag from the gear check table first. I hobbled over and gave the guy my check tag number. He was having a hard time finding it and I was having a hard time standing. I almost told him I'd be back for it later. I crouched down by the table and attempted to remain standing. I switched between standing and crouching a few times. I was going down. Pretty quickly. I had to get to the medical tent. There were so many people.
Finally the guy found my bag and I consolidated the bags I had accumulated and hobbled towards the medical tent. As I got there, two people sat down to be iced so the lady turned from me to handle them. I was going to fall over. I leaned on the table and focused on breathing. I crouched down again on the ground and tried to be patient. A line started to form behind the icers. I was going to be passed over again. Oh my god.
I moved over to where the line was forming and tried to stand patiently. The two icers got up and another lady sat down. I couldn't do this. I wasn't going to make it. I wanted to cry.
I made eye contact with the medical lady and must have looked pretty desperate. I told her I just needed some tylenol or advil or something. She handed me the tylenol and I hobbled off toward the car.
I dropped my stuff off and took the tylenol and grabbed my camera to go wait for Debbie at the finish line. I found a spot to sit down and change into dry clothes.
Debbie finally finished and we hobbled to the car, discussing our races.
"You went a 3:31?" Debbie asked.
"Yeah."
"That's awesome!" She said.
"Yeah."
"Wait, what's Boston?"
"3:35."
"Carrie, you just qualified for Boston!" She said.
"Um, yeah."
"You're going to Boston!!"
"Uhhh.... I don't know."
"You have to go! You can't qualify and not go!" She told me.
I can't make these sort of decisions until I no longer hurt. Every which way I turned last night everything hurt. This morning I can hardly walk and even my back and shoulders hurt. I don't know why people do this.
So my official time was 3:31.08. The race photos aren't up yet but when they are I'll post the link. It'll be interesting to see how my face changes throughout the race. Until then, this is Debbie and I posing after the race.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
San Diego, Again
I'm sitting on Debbie's balcony that looks out onto the boats and palm trees of the Shelter Island marina drinking a cup of coffee in jeans, a t-shirt and bare feet. It's overcast but so much warmer than up north. I've been back 5 hours and have come to the conclusion that San Diego will always own my heart.
I feel I'm pretty happy up north in my new home. I love my house, the area is gorgeous and quiet. I get farm fresh food from the ranch just a few miles away, I've got a good job and I've made some wonderful friends.
As we circled San Diego to prepare for landing, I looked out towards Old Town and felt a rush of memories sieze me. My childhood and a good portion of my adult life was spent making memories here and I forget how much of a part of me it is until I come back and it's an overwhelming flood of emotions each time.
We landed in the commuter terminal and walked down the steps onto the tarmac. I looked left towards the harbor and the dowtown skyline and again felt a surge of memories and emotion.
Not to mention it was so warm! Even with overcast skies and "dreary" weather, it was so uplifting compared to the northern winter. After settling in at Debbie's place I went for a run on Shelter island, staring out at the harbor and the Pt. Loma penninsula. I could see the light house where Candace got married, and Cabrillo National Monument where her dad's ashes lie. My dad's ashes aren't too far from here, a mile out to sea off the coast of Ocean Beach... or where they once were. I suppose they could be clear across the world by now, drifting among plankton and kelp, weaving in and out of the gills of fish and sharks as they breathe.
I drove up the road to Trader Joes to get a couple things and it only took between 5 and 10 minutes. If I want to go to Trader Joes where I live, I drive 1 hour one way. As I climbed out of the car, the sun shone brightly on my face and the moment did not go by unappreciated. It was a quick easy trip, and the sun was warm and comforting. I realized it has been since being in Arizona for Thanksgiving that I have actually enjoyed being outdoors.
Which is where you'll find me now...sitting on the balcony listening to the world go about its usual business and waiting for Debbie to get home from work.
I'm reminded of a song by Death Cab For Cutie, except that song sounds more like being a stalker. "I will possess your heart" and I feel like San Diego does.
I feel I'm pretty happy up north in my new home. I love my house, the area is gorgeous and quiet. I get farm fresh food from the ranch just a few miles away, I've got a good job and I've made some wonderful friends.
As we circled San Diego to prepare for landing, I looked out towards Old Town and felt a rush of memories sieze me. My childhood and a good portion of my adult life was spent making memories here and I forget how much of a part of me it is until I come back and it's an overwhelming flood of emotions each time.
We landed in the commuter terminal and walked down the steps onto the tarmac. I looked left towards the harbor and the dowtown skyline and again felt a surge of memories and emotion.
Not to mention it was so warm! Even with overcast skies and "dreary" weather, it was so uplifting compared to the northern winter. After settling in at Debbie's place I went for a run on Shelter island, staring out at the harbor and the Pt. Loma penninsula. I could see the light house where Candace got married, and Cabrillo National Monument where her dad's ashes lie. My dad's ashes aren't too far from here, a mile out to sea off the coast of Ocean Beach... or where they once were. I suppose they could be clear across the world by now, drifting among plankton and kelp, weaving in and out of the gills of fish and sharks as they breathe.
I drove up the road to Trader Joes to get a couple things and it only took between 5 and 10 minutes. If I want to go to Trader Joes where I live, I drive 1 hour one way. As I climbed out of the car, the sun shone brightly on my face and the moment did not go by unappreciated. It was a quick easy trip, and the sun was warm and comforting. I realized it has been since being in Arizona for Thanksgiving that I have actually enjoyed being outdoors.
Which is where you'll find me now...sitting on the balcony listening to the world go about its usual business and waiting for Debbie to get home from work.
I'm reminded of a song by Death Cab For Cutie, except that song sounds more like being a stalker. "I will possess your heart" and I feel like San Diego does.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Good Enough (continued)
I'm a firm believer in being hard on myself. Usually very hard on myself. There comes a time though, when enough is enough.
This is one of those times.
Truth be told, I've been hard on myself all day today. It started around 2:48 am when I woke up and put more wood in the woodstove. I was fairly awake, which meant at 4:30 when my alarm clock went off, I'd be groggy. We've been through this before and every time it's the same. I told myself to just get my day started now since I didn't want to face the groggy fight to get out of bed. Well that's just silly. I went back to bed.
My alarm clock went off at 4:30am and just like I knew would happen, I was too groggy to want to get out of bed. Maybe I'll skip the gym. I've been so good lately, one day won't hurt.
Get out of bed! Came the reply in my head. I closed my eyes and rolled away from my alarm clock. When I rolled back over it was 4:45. Now Carrie, get out of bed now.
I don't remember what time I finally got out of bed, but I coaxed myself out by promising two cups of coffee instead of the usual one. And I promise you can go to bed super early tonight. Like 7, if you feel like it.
I made coffee and poked around at the woodstove. I started pouring more pellets into the pellet stove and dumped half of them on the floor. I was sleepy and exasperated. I picked them up, packed my lunch and stuck a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. When I opened it again, the oatmeal had boiled over and was all over the microwave. Ugh!
I tossed what was left of it into my lunch box, cleaned the microwave and started the car. I came back in and made a protein shake for breakfast and one for after the gym, got in my car and went to the gym. Two cups of coffee and all, I still wanted to just crawl onto a mat and sleep. I didn't dare sit down for any exercises. In between push-ups and bent over rows, I eyed a bench warily. It called my name. Just sit for a second. One second won't hurt. I looked away and chose to ignore it.
After my workout I went off to work. Since it was cold, I wasn't going to run until it warmed up, but it occured to me that it would probably be snowing later.
After lunch I stared out the window at the dumping snow. "If you went running when you first started thinking about it, you'd be back by now". Yeah yeah.
I decided I would run after work, in the gym, where it was warm. Really? You promised I could go to bed early. Suck it up, it's just one night, you'll survive.
Around 2:30 the snow let up and there were occasional guest appearances from the sun. Go now!!! I don't wanna go! Ok, fine. Just get changed and see how you feel after that.
I changed into a pair of warm tights, a thermal under armour shirt and some wool running socks. I looked out the window. Is it snowing again?! Not that bad, get your headband and gloves on, grab a radio and go.
I put on my shoes, my gloves, my headband, grabbed a hand held radio and peaked out the door. It was snowing firm tiny snowflakes. You can do this.
I took off up the hill. Maybe just 3 miles. Oh quit it. It's not snowing that hard, you are plenty warm and you have a radio. You are going 8 miles. Maybe 5? There's no reason, other than your own weakness, that you can't do 8 miles today. Ok, ok, I'll do 8.
I jogged up the muddy mountain road as not-so-fluffy snowflakes pecked at my face. I watched them bounce off my nose and cling to my eyelashes. I watched the sky. Big looming clouds hung in the air with occasional gauzy blue sky. Seven. How about 7? How about you shut up and do 8?
As I approached the peak of the road I was running on, I could see that a storm hung in the drainage where I was going to turn around and head back. How about 5? Actually it would be 5 and a half, which is better than 5. It was 2.2 up to the S*&t Ponds (don't ask), 1.6 to the Y and 1.6 back. Basically 5 and a half miles. Uphill in the snow and mud. And that storm is gonna beat you back. Ok, 5 and a half it is.
My body was tired. I considered it to possibly be a result of the attitude I had started with, not wanting to run at all. Then again it could be a result of my coworker running me into the ground the day before yesterday.
I reached the Y (a fork in the road) and turned and ran back down the hill, sliding in the mud the whole way. I rounded a corner and my right foot suddenly weighed more as I picked up a clod of mud. I finally made it back to "The Knoll" and walked across the cattle guard and down to the station. I turned and looked at the dark sky building behind me. Maybe you should run back up and finish the last 2.5 miles.
My response was a two word reply that translates to something like, the heck with that.
When I got home, I pulled into the driveway at 5:15pm, put my bags in the house and changed into a heavier jacket. I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and dropped it on the dining room table, grabbed my leather gloves and the log tote from the floor by the woodstove and headed to my back yard. I split and carried in 3 loads of wood and then went out to the carport and carried in 2- 40lb bags of pellets for the pellet stove.
At 5:30 I knelt down in front of the wood stove to coax a fire into burning.
5:50- Reheated leftover lamb curry (homemade of course) and sat down to eat.
6pm- Ran a hot bath and filled the pellet stove with pellets. Plopped into the tub.
6:30- Was overheated from the scalding hot water and pulled my tired body out. Put on my awesome frog slipper-socks and pj's and settled in front of the computer to finish writing this.
It is now 7:02pm. I am going to grab my kindle, brush my teeth and go to bed. As promised. Sometimes it is ok to do a little less than we set out to do, because sometimes the struggle lies in simply setting out.
This is one of those times.
Truth be told, I've been hard on myself all day today. It started around 2:48 am when I woke up and put more wood in the woodstove. I was fairly awake, which meant at 4:30 when my alarm clock went off, I'd be groggy. We've been through this before and every time it's the same. I told myself to just get my day started now since I didn't want to face the groggy fight to get out of bed. Well that's just silly. I went back to bed.
My alarm clock went off at 4:30am and just like I knew would happen, I was too groggy to want to get out of bed. Maybe I'll skip the gym. I've been so good lately, one day won't hurt.
Get out of bed! Came the reply in my head. I closed my eyes and rolled away from my alarm clock. When I rolled back over it was 4:45. Now Carrie, get out of bed now.
I don't remember what time I finally got out of bed, but I coaxed myself out by promising two cups of coffee instead of the usual one. And I promise you can go to bed super early tonight. Like 7, if you feel like it.
I made coffee and poked around at the woodstove. I started pouring more pellets into the pellet stove and dumped half of them on the floor. I was sleepy and exasperated. I picked them up, packed my lunch and stuck a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. When I opened it again, the oatmeal had boiled over and was all over the microwave. Ugh!
I tossed what was left of it into my lunch box, cleaned the microwave and started the car. I came back in and made a protein shake for breakfast and one for after the gym, got in my car and went to the gym. Two cups of coffee and all, I still wanted to just crawl onto a mat and sleep. I didn't dare sit down for any exercises. In between push-ups and bent over rows, I eyed a bench warily. It called my name. Just sit for a second. One second won't hurt. I looked away and chose to ignore it.
After my workout I went off to work. Since it was cold, I wasn't going to run until it warmed up, but it occured to me that it would probably be snowing later.
After lunch I stared out the window at the dumping snow. "If you went running when you first started thinking about it, you'd be back by now". Yeah yeah.
I decided I would run after work, in the gym, where it was warm. Really? You promised I could go to bed early. Suck it up, it's just one night, you'll survive.
Around 2:30 the snow let up and there were occasional guest appearances from the sun. Go now!!! I don't wanna go! Ok, fine. Just get changed and see how you feel after that.
I changed into a pair of warm tights, a thermal under armour shirt and some wool running socks. I looked out the window. Is it snowing again?! Not that bad, get your headband and gloves on, grab a radio and go.
I put on my shoes, my gloves, my headband, grabbed a hand held radio and peaked out the door. It was snowing firm tiny snowflakes. You can do this.
I took off up the hill. Maybe just 3 miles. Oh quit it. It's not snowing that hard, you are plenty warm and you have a radio. You are going 8 miles. Maybe 5? There's no reason, other than your own weakness, that you can't do 8 miles today. Ok, ok, I'll do 8.
I jogged up the muddy mountain road as not-so-fluffy snowflakes pecked at my face. I watched them bounce off my nose and cling to my eyelashes. I watched the sky. Big looming clouds hung in the air with occasional gauzy blue sky. Seven. How about 7? How about you shut up and do 8?
As I approached the peak of the road I was running on, I could see that a storm hung in the drainage where I was going to turn around and head back. How about 5? Actually it would be 5 and a half, which is better than 5. It was 2.2 up to the S*&t Ponds (don't ask), 1.6 to the Y and 1.6 back. Basically 5 and a half miles. Uphill in the snow and mud. And that storm is gonna beat you back. Ok, 5 and a half it is.
My body was tired. I considered it to possibly be a result of the attitude I had started with, not wanting to run at all. Then again it could be a result of my coworker running me into the ground the day before yesterday.
I reached the Y (a fork in the road) and turned and ran back down the hill, sliding in the mud the whole way. I rounded a corner and my right foot suddenly weighed more as I picked up a clod of mud. I finally made it back to "The Knoll" and walked across the cattle guard and down to the station. I turned and looked at the dark sky building behind me. Maybe you should run back up and finish the last 2.5 miles.
My response was a two word reply that translates to something like, the heck with that.
When I got home, I pulled into the driveway at 5:15pm, put my bags in the house and changed into a heavier jacket. I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and dropped it on the dining room table, grabbed my leather gloves and the log tote from the floor by the woodstove and headed to my back yard. I split and carried in 3 loads of wood and then went out to the carport and carried in 2- 40lb bags of pellets for the pellet stove.
At 5:30 I knelt down in front of the wood stove to coax a fire into burning.
5:50- Reheated leftover lamb curry (homemade of course) and sat down to eat.
6pm- Ran a hot bath and filled the pellet stove with pellets. Plopped into the tub.
6:30- Was overheated from the scalding hot water and pulled my tired body out. Put on my awesome frog slipper-socks and pj's and settled in front of the computer to finish writing this.
It is now 7:02pm. I am going to grab my kindle, brush my teeth and go to bed. As promised. Sometimes it is ok to do a little less than we set out to do, because sometimes the struggle lies in simply setting out.
The Courage to Go Run
Today is an 8 miler. It's currently dumping snow and I'm at work, so there is no option to run indoors unless I go after work. This morning I promised myself I could go to bed super early tonight so running 8 miles after work probably won't happen. I googled "running inspiration".
I had to laugh at this one: "If you went running when you first started thinking about it, you'd be back right now." Yes I would. But it was 26 degrees when I first started thinking about it. Now it's a whopping 32, but dumping snow.
"There will be a day when I can no longer run. Today is not that day." Inspiring, yes. Is it getting me out the door? No.
Here's the thing. It's dumping snow. I'm at work. My options are to drive to a flat deserted road and run 8 miles, or head out the road going up the mountain behind the station and run 8 miles. Either one gets me in a deserted area in cold weather, snow and possible mountain lions. Did I mention it's dumping snow? It looks almost like a blizzard out there.
This is not going well...maybe it'll let up in a couple hours.
To be continued...
I had to laugh at this one: "If you went running when you first started thinking about it, you'd be back right now." Yes I would. But it was 26 degrees when I first started thinking about it. Now it's a whopping 32, but dumping snow.
"There will be a day when I can no longer run. Today is not that day." Inspiring, yes. Is it getting me out the door? No.
Here's the thing. It's dumping snow. I'm at work. My options are to drive to a flat deserted road and run 8 miles, or head out the road going up the mountain behind the station and run 8 miles. Either one gets me in a deserted area in cold weather, snow and possible mountain lions. Did I mention it's dumping snow? It looks almost like a blizzard out there.
This is not going well...maybe it'll let up in a couple hours.
To be continued...
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