There have been worse pics of me on this blog, I'm sure ...

After a six-week break from training, I have a new goal:

Assist beginning runners as a volunteer pacer for the Peninsula branch of Run365, the official training program of the San Francisco marathon and half-marathon.

I kept an eye out for my beloved Ravenna 2, even though I’d just broke in a new pair a few days ago. Unfortunately, the Ravennas weren’t there. But I did try on another pair of Brooks — the Cascadia 6. I’d been eying these shoes for a few months, but since I hate running on trails I couldn’t justify the expense.

However, at $56 I’d be crazy not to give the shoes a try. I jogged a loop around the store, found them super-comfortable, spoke to a customer who was actually walking around in his Cascadias and forked over my debit card.

Who wants to hit the trails with me and my new shoes?

I also picked up a pair of SockGuy Head Case socks.

Fact: I have a thing for skulls. If it has a skull on it, I’m buying it.

Obligatory photo of yours truly. Five years ago, Paju City, South Korea.

Oh, I loved that scarf so much. I wonder where it is?

***

I have my first 2012 race in seven days, and I am totally out of shape.

This morning I had my third workout of 2012 — a 4.55-mile jog/walk around Lake Merced. I told myself I’d run the whole thing, and I left my Garmin at home, determined to just finish no matter the pace. I ran a little over two miles before I stopped. Walked a bit, ran, walked, sprinted to my car.

That last sprint felt great, but I do wonder if I’ll be able to run an entire 5K.

It wasn’t pretty.

I had planned to squeeze a nine-miler before a date. And this wasn’t just any date, this was a third date.

If you know me in real life, you know I haven’t made a third date in, well, forever. I had actually bought an outfit.

In spite of said outfit, I still felt nervous. Thus, nine miles. Two laps around Lake Merced.

Yeah I’d been sick for the past few days, but I was sure I could throw down at least a third of the marathon I’d run a month ago.

After shaking off my limbs, I leapt forward, so thrilled to run again. The object of my affection had insisted I listen to The Refreshments, which led me to immediately download the band’s second album as my latest workout playlist.

My little crush would carry me through the next 90 minutes.

I bobbed my head around as “Banditos” flowed into my ear canal. I felt my face split into a loopy grin.

Clocked the first mile in 9:14. Usual for the beginning of my runs around the lake. I felt like punching the air.

Nine minutes later I stopped. Bent over, caught my breath.

Effin’ a. How did I get so out of shape?

I walked a bit. Told myself I would resume my run after one song. I waited for two. When I did pick up my legs, I felt like I was trying to scissor-kick my way through putty.

I could only manage one more mile — one ten-minute mile — before calling it a day and walking back to my car.

I mused over the last thirty days. Since the marathon, I’d only run eight times. My longest run had been a 10K, and that had included walking breaks. Sure, I needed a bit of rest after CIM, and I could not run while I was sick. But I had slacked off.

Nonetheless, I refused to beat myself up. A bad run is still a run. Better than nothing.

Yes, I am undertrained for my first race of the year, the Waterfront 5K. It’s in 20 days.

What I must do is adjust my expectations. I’ll build myself back to race shape and use Waterfront as a test run. I’ll run hard on race day, but I won’t kick myself when I finish slower than my personal best.

Whatever. It’s a three-dollar race. I’ll run it for kicks.

And then I’ll set my sights on another 5K and start chipping away at the old P.R.

During this week’s trip in L.A. I caught a fever. Hoped it would fade by Saturday, but no, I’m still as sick as a dog. I considered racing anyway, but the thought of hacking up phlegm mid-run made me stop in my tracks. That and the possibility of infecting everyone in my wave.

The good news is that in spite of being sick enough to drop out of a race and New Year’s Eve party, I still had a wonderful time in SoCal with my sisters.

Venice Beach with Marbs

The first thought I had upon seeing the above pic: “Heeeeey … My boobs look great.”

(Really, it’s the blouse.)

Santa Monica pier

I’m a little bummed that I didn’t fit in one last race before the end of the year. On the other hand, I did cross a few running goals off my list:

• Complete Couch-to-5K
• Run a race every month
• Sub-25:00 5K
• Sub-2:00 half-marathon
• Sub-4:00 marathon

I’ve yet to do No. 5, but I’m sure I’ll go sub-4:00 next year.

Thanks for reading — I truly appreciate it. Here’s to a swift and light-footed 2012.

All I want is a lumberjack. And sweaters, I guess.

Moving along …

On December 31st I’ll attempt to end 2011 with a P.R. I’m running The San Francisco Marathon’s New Year’s Eve Dash, a 5K in Golden Gate Park.

Yeah, I know I promised my mom I’d rest after CIM. But finishers get mimosas!

New Year's Eve, a few years back. I was so hard back then. Too hard to run.

Since I’m caught up in the holiday spirit, I’ll let you in on my super-secret Sub-24:00 5K treadmill workout.

Incline is bumped to one percent.

• 5 min at 10:00 min/mile pace
• 5 min at 8:49
• 5 min at 10:00
• 5 min at 8:34
• 5 min at 10:00
• 5 min at 8:00
• 5 min at 10:00
• 5 min at 7:30 <– goal 5K pace
• 5 min walk

I don’t know what type of workout this is, but it is hard, so I think it will whip me into P.R. shape.

So far I’ve attempted to finish it twice. The first time I stopped after completing five minutes at 8:00 pace; the second time I was only able to run 7:30 for one minute.

Maybe my legs are still worn out from CIM, but 7:30 is scary fast for me. Fast and fun.

After the marathon I didn’t exercise for eight days. By that eighth day I was full of so much energy, I thought I was ready for a sub-24:00 right then and there. Ha. Anyway, my 5K training isn’t too different from my marathon training, with the exception of shorter mileage of course. Here’s how the week goes:

• Monday: Rest
• Tuesday: 45-minute speed workout on treadmill, listed above
• Wednesday: 3-5 mile treadmill jog (10:00 min/mile pace)
• Thursday: Rest
• Friday: 3-5 mile treadmill jog (10:00 min/mile pace)
• Saturday: 6-10 mile long run outdoors (10:00 min/mile pace)
• Sunday: 3-5 mile jog outdoors (whatever pace)

You’ll note that my easy pace is over two minutes slower than goal 5K pace. I might bump the speed up in January, but right now I’m burned out and need to relax. I’ve been hitting the office treadmill after work, and honestly on some nights I do not want to churn miles. Ten-minute miles are less daunting.

I am excited about running in new pastures. Next week my sister Marbs and I are spending five days in SoCal. I haven’t gone south in 12 years! What can I say, I’m a country girl at heart.

We will stay with our other sister, Jo, who lives near L.A.

Fun fact: All three sisters have run at least one race.

Yeah, we look nothing alike.

I don’t know how many runs I’ll fit in next week. I’d like to get at least two, since the 5K is that Saturday.

However, I’m not sweating this race, because I will have all of 2012 to make my sub-24:00. Time with my loved ones is way more important.

Did you hit up your family/significant other/secret lover for new running gear?

I would ask for a pair of the new Brooks Ravenna 3, but I am so in love with my Ravenna 2s. I heard that the update is closer to the first model. Boo.

You know what that means. Time to buy a gem for my Match.com profile!

FYI, fellas: You ain’t seeing the goods ’til I get dinner.

Just kidding.

For only a breakfast special at the Waffle Barn, you can go steady with a 4:09 marathoner.

You are probably wondering why I didn’t bother buying a new outfit for my very first marathon.

“Yo, Sesa, haven’t you worn that orange top like 1,000 times in the past year?”

Well, I actually did browse a few shops for a new tank, but the shirts I tried on were too long. That and I hate shopping. Trying on clothes is so exhausting … more exhausting than 26.2 miles, yeah.

Wearing this bright singlet actually worked to my advantage. Not only did I get a few compliments from fellow runners that day, but my parents and sisters found me in those thousands of runners, no problem.

Caught dozing on the run. How embarrassing.

Much better.

This snap is my favorite of the bunch. Look at my face! Eye of the tiger.

Can you believe I carried those mittens from start to finish? I’d bought a much thinner pair for three bucks at the expo, but my mom insisted I wear something warmer. A few amused runners and spectators asked about them during the race. What can I say, my hands are icy.

Here I am at the finish:

I dig this one, too.

Other random post-marathon thoughts, before I attend to the way-late LMJS newsletter (sorry, Ducks) …

• I knew my iFitness belt would drive me nuts, because it shifted so many times during my long runs leading up to CIM. So I ended up attaching a large Fuelbelt pouch to my trusty Spibelt. It worked perfectly — the pouch was large enough for the six gels I carried, and the belt did not shift or bounce at all. Yeah I looked like a total runner-nerd, but I was comfortable.
• I ended up consuming seven gels before and during the race. Some of them had two shots of caffeine. So if you include the cup of Folgers I had when I got of bed that morning, I consumed 12 shots of caffeine within 6-7 hours. Crazy. I hadn’t been that wired since college.
• Yes, I did make the classic newbie marathoner mistake by going too fast during the first half of the race. I should have stuck with the 4:00 pacer, at least until Mile 20.
• That said, I truly am proud of my 4:09 finish. I was disappointed in myself during miles 21-25, but when I saw how excited my parents and sister were for me, I got over it.
• Re: my knees. Right after the race I emailed my boss and told her they hurt too much, and she let me take a sick day. Then I got out of bed on Monday morning and they felt totally fine. Like, I began to wonder if I hadn’t worked hard enough, they felt so good. Only my quads and calves were sore. By Wednesday all the tightness in my lower limbs had disappeared.
• I am still laughing over this picture Courtney and Alyssa posted after our pre-CIM carb session:
  

  Snapped in mid-snort. And yes, I really am that dopey in real life.

• I took seven days off from running and all other exercise. Didn’t really miss it that much, as I had work to catch up on, the LMJS newsletter to finish (sorry), friends to catch up with, a sister to treat to her birthday breakfast.
• Also compared post-marathon notes over dinner with Kristin, Alyssa, Layla, Dennis and Courtney last Wednesday at Paragon near AT&T Park. I had a grilled cheese sandwich and a stout, SO GOOD.
• Dennis had somehow survived the chaos that was the Rock ‘n’ Roll Las Vegas Marathon, and his horrific recap (and the race organizers’ Facebook wall) convinced me to never sign up for an RNR event. Have you been reading the stories about the crowded/fainting/barfing runners and fire hydrant water? I get sick just thinking about it all.

And, the No. 1 question people have asked me:

Am I really, truly dead-set against running another marathon?

Misty watercolor memories ...

Since the race my resolve has softened a bit.

While those last five miles were too painful, and I had wondered if I had inflicted permanent damage to my body … I’m OK now. I survived with no long-term damage.

I enjoyed this whole marathon experience! I set a new half-marathon PR, met some fun runners and ran a strong race during the first 21 miles of CIM.

And I still believe I have a sub-4:00 marathon in me.

However, I don’t want to train for another full until I determine what I need to do to make my knees tougher. Yes, I know the final 10K of a marathon is going to feel uncomfortable no matter what, but the intensity of my knee pain was an indicator that I was undertrained (or perhaps overtrained).

I don’t plan on training for another full for at least 6-9 months. Until then, I have other goals I would rather attend to, like a sub-24:00 5K and a sub-1:50 half-marathon. And I have non-running goals too, of course.

For now, let’s say I’m open to running another marathon. And I would love to run CIM again.

“After this, you stop,” my mom told me as she wrapped a large leather jacket over my shoulders on race morning. “You’re too small.”

“OK,” I said. “No more marathons.”

I felt terrified, certain I had lost my strength and stamina during my three-week taper. I couldn’t believe I was going to run 26.2 miles. I couldn’t believe I was going to try to hold a nine-minute pace over those 26.2 miles.

She drove me to the runner drop-off point, which was half a mile from the start. I had downed a Larabar and a cup of coffee around 4 a.m., then a Clif Bar at 6, but when took a squat in the porta-potty, I couldn’t clean my bowels.

This worried me, because with my sub-4:00 goal, I really could not afford bathroom breaks during the actual race. I couldn’t even afford to walk through water stops, really — so I carried a small, handheld water bottle.

I walked up the road to the start banner, planting myself in front of the 4:00 pace group and sucking down a Roctane Gu (two shots of caffeine). I wasn’t sure if the 4:00 group was trying to go sub-4:00, or if they were planning on finishing in 4:xx. And I wasn’t wearing a pace band. So I decided I would just try to stay right ahead of the pack.

After I dumped my jacket on the side of the road, a woman next to me asked about my mittens. There I was, wearing the skimpiest race attire, save for a pair of chunky acrylic mittens. The morning felt mild, perfect for running, but my hands get cold easily, and I’d read that the body goes cold after Mile 20.

During the national anthem I recalled my running over the past year. I thought of climbing back on the treadmill after a 10-week break, how tough those first few weeks felt. I remembered making my sub-25:00 5K in Oakland. Collapsing in my car one night in a fit of heartbreak. Stopping at Mile 10 of the San Francisco half because of knee pain. Rolling along Ocean Beach, admiring surfers as they peeled off their wetsuits. Hearing my sister’s voice at the end of my first sub-2:00 half in San Leandro.

As the singer’s voice swelled, I found myself growing with bravado.

Then we were off.

• Mile 1 9:13
• Mile 2 9:06

During the first two miles I made an effort not to go too fast. Which wasn’t that hard, because after a week of short and easy mileage, my legs felt stiff. On the plus side, the calf pain that I’d experienced in the past few weeks had died down.

I stuck behind some chatty Cathys and told myself not to pass them, but after I clocked my second mile I knew I had to start churning sub-9:00s.

• Mile 3 8:46
• Mile 4 8:50 (gel)

Locals stood in their yards in heavy coats and ponchos, ringing cowbells. My muscles were loosening up. I tore into a Honey Stinger gel at Mile 4, which was probably too early in the race, but it put a bit of spring in my step.

• Mile 5 8:51
• Mile 6 8:52
• Mile 7 8:56
• Mile 8 8:54 (gel)
• Mile 9 8:57

Even though CIM is marketed as a fast course, it isn’t that easy. It’s a net downhill course, sure, but there were rolling hills that were wearing down my legs. I moved up these hills at a 9:00-9:15 pace, then tried to make up time during the declines.

I remember snapping to attention as we approached the Mile 10 marker. Mile 10 already? I felt really, really optimistic at that point. I had to focus for my sub-9:00s, sure, but I felt like I could maintain 8:5xs and bank a few seconds along the way.

• Mile 10 8:47
• Mile 11 8:47

Ha. The crowds were building up as we ran along strip malls. The course wasn’t scenic once we hit suburbia, but there were so many people out, ringing cowbells, handing out Red Vines and hollering. I kept to the side, sweeping past spectators and doling out high-fives. I was in total bliss.

• Mile 12 8:56 (gel)
• Mile 13 8:59

I crossed the halfway mat in 1:57.

I’d given my tracking number to family and friends, and I was certain that my running friends were probably clutching their pearls, telling me to slow down. But my legs still felt good. I told myself to throw down a 10:00 mile to give my limbs a bit of rest, but without a pace band I didn’t know how much time I’d banked. I didn’t know where the 4:00 pacer was.

I tossed my empty water bottle before Mile 14. Looking back, I probably should have kept it and refilled it at a water station. I ended up wasting precious seconds at water stations after I threw my handheld away.

• Mile 14 8:55
• Mile 15 9:05
• Mile 16 8:53 (gel)

The night before the race, Cindy had emailed me, wishing me luck. She also advised me not to cry on the course, as this was one way of wasting energy.

Well, I couldn’t help myself. I’d read on Facebook that the course is a breeze after Mile 14.  After the 14th mile, someone told me, I could tear the breaks off. I was golden from there on out.

The 3:55 pacer was so close, I could make out the little white numbers on the little red sign he carried. My goodness — could I finish this race in 3:55? Maybe! My legs felt great!

The crowds were tight, their cheers were sweeping me off my feet. I began to choke up. I had to stifle the sobs from my mouth. Jesus Christ. I was really doing this!

• Mile 17 9:01
• Mile 18 9:10
• Mile 19 9:08

• Mile 20 9:29 (gel)
• Mile 21 9:31

I crossed the Mile 20 mat in 3:00. Although I was slowing down, I felt like I could average 9:30 miles over the last 10K.

I’d read on Aron‘s blog that she’d averaged 26.3 miles over her last three CIM races — an extra tenth of a mile. I really needed to clock 26.2 miles in 3:58-3:59, to make room for that extra one-tenth of a mile.

I didn’t know if I could get there with 9:30 miles, but at the time 9:30 seemed manageable. I could always haul ass during the last mile. I was mentally prepared to sprint on tired legs.

I wasn’t wiped out, but I was worn down and I needed to run conservatively if I was going to finish this race strong.

I had another double-shot Roctane Gu at Mile 20, but it didn’t seem to kick in.

• Mile 22 9:58
• Mile 23 10:23
• Mile 24 11:19 (gel)

As I left the 21.1-mile water station, I was suddenly hit with knee pain. This was the first time I felt knee pain in two months. I thought the midfoot strike I’d developed while running in my Ravennas had taken care of that problem. I’d only dealt with very mild shin and calf pain in the past few weeks … My knees had totally surprised me.

I bent over and made circles with my knees, trying to shake them out, but I found no relief.

The miles weren’t flying like before. I was in so much pain; I’d never felt physical pain like it. The thought of running five more miles brought tears to my eyes.

I had to talk myself into going into the water stations and taking water and electrolytes — a part of me worried my knees would stiffen to the point of immobility if I stopped.

I puttered into a slow jog, and I kept pulling over to attend to my knees.

• Mile 25 12:38

As I stopped to shake out my knees for what seemed like the tenth time, the 4:00 pacer passed me. Watching her sign bob by sent my heart sinking. The runners around her still looked mighty strong. I was kicking myself for not sticking with her in the beginning.

Then I remembered that there was another 4:00 pacer, because the 4:00 group was so large. Maybe …

Just then the second pacer passed me.

Goddamn it. I began to walk.

I felt so frustrated, because after all of those caffeinated gels, I had energy in spades. My mind, lungs, heart and muscles were all willing my body to go faster. I had the stamina. But my knees were holding me back.

One woman passed me, calling over her shoulder, “Come on, girl, we got this.” I straightened myself and began to trot along with her, only to stop to roll out my knees again. By the Mile 26th marker I was set on walking the rest of the way.

• Mile 26 12:53

A young man jogged to my side.

“You. You’re coming with me,” he said.

I was too tired to put up a fight, so I began to jog. I forgot his name, but it started with an S, and he was from West Sacramento.

“What’s your name? Are you a student? Where are you from, what do you do? Do you like your watch? What’s wrong?” he asked.

“My knees hurt,” I answered, nearly bursting into tears.

“I know how you feel. I pulled my calf. This is my second CIM, but I didn’t train long enough.” He then checked his phone app. “We’re running at a 13-minute pace.”

I sighed. Could we even call a 13-min pace running?

“My watch, I think it might be on autostop,” I told him, meekly. “Do you know what finish time we’re going for?”

“Four-ten.”

I perked up for a moment. I thought I’d lost more than that. A 4:10, after walking/jogging through the past five miles, was still a solid finish time. Good enough for me.

We picked up another straggler who had bonked around Mile 18. The three of us dove into a water station, and my knees stiffened again. I tried to walk them off, but S would not leave me behind. “Eight more blocks,” he urged. “You can do this.”

I began counting down every tenth of a mile.

• Mile 26.35 3:42 (10:17 pace)

As we passed by the 26th mile marker, I heard my name. I turned and caught my parents and sister Marbs waving wildly and taking pictures.

I waved back, embarrassed to have them catch me like this.

Marbs noticed that my stride was stilted.

After I passed them, I kept trotting along, trying to keep my head high.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my pa, running along the side of the course. Stopping every now and then to take a photograph. Calling out my name, grinning madly.

His enthusiasm and pride touched me, and I thought back to how we used to run together when I was in high school. I remembered how he sprinted on the treadmill after his knees had worn down. How he used to run religiously, before he was treated for colon cancer.

And I knew, no matter how much pain I felt that day, it could not compare to what he felt when he was sick. I remembered when a nurse told me how he’d putter around hospital with his I.V. for his daily exercise. I thought of how strong he was.

If my pa could stay so tough for us all those years, surely I can hold myself together for two minutes.

I lost sight of him as I rounded the corner. I saw the finish. As I drew closer, the race clock hit 4:11. I had crossed the start a few minutes after the race began, so maybe I could dive under 4:10!

Then I heard someone call my name. I looked into the crowd and saw a woman meeting my eyes, yelling my name. Who was she, had we met?

Then I shot into the finish.

I was so out of it, I didn’t turn off my Garmin. A volunteer took my arm as others threw a medal over my head, cut my timer from my shoe, wrapped me in a space blanket and handed me a chocolate milk. “Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered, crying again. A part of me was sad that I hadn’t gone under four hours.

But I also knew that 4:09 was a good finish, and I was proud of my training and performance.

I had run a solid 21 miles, and I had stuck through the last five. The weather was lovely, the crowds were wonderful, my family was there. Couldn’t ask for a better first marathon.

• Garmin stats: 26.35 miles in 4:09:54, avg. 9:29 min/mile
• Official stats: 26.2 miles in 4:09:50, avg. 9:31 min/mile

Special thanks to:

• My sister Marbs for taking the train from Berkeley, on her birthday weekend
• My mom for driving to my anxious ass to the race start. (Sorry I was such a brat!)
• My pa for running the last quarter-mile with me
• Jana, Karin and Beth for their hilarious signs and cheering for me and the other Bay Area running bloggers at CIM. Turns out Jana was the mystery woman I’d locked eyes with before I crossed the finish.
• Courtney, her parents and her grandmother for hosting a pre-CIM dinner at her parents’ place in Granite Bay
• My fellow running bloggers, who shared their CIM war stories. I’m compiling a list of their race recaps and will post links later. :)
• S from West Sacramento. Maybe I was rolling on a runner’s high, but … S, if you’re reading this: Email me! I will buy you a drink the next time I am in town.
• The City of Sacramento
• And last, but most certainly not least, the race organizers and volunteers

Even though I have no desire to run another full, I am happy with this one. Recap later.

To follow Yours Truly during the California International Marathon, plug 5436 into the runner tracker here.

Race starts tomorrow morning at 7 a.m.

Bear hugs for those of you who have emailed and text your support. I’m nervous. Excited, sure. But, for the most part, nervous. Pretty dang nervous.