Weet Weet Walt Disney World Marathon!!!

So I guess I was supposed to have posted on this blog back in early '08 when I was also "training" for the Kentucky Derby Festival Marathon.  Well, there's two things that didn't happen.  Not only did I not post, and keep a log of my workouts and whatnot, I did not workout.  Which was stupid.  A week before the marathon (which I signed up for in November of '07 and got my best friend to sign up for as well) I realized how screwed I was having not trained...AT ALL.  So the Monday before I went out and ran 4.5 miles cold.  Then Thursday I ran 2, you know, to taper down from all the wicked mileage I'd built up.  Then, the race was on Saturday.  I knew I was screwed even harder.  Even though I ended up switching to the half-marathon, 13.1 miles is a lot if you haven't been running somewhat regularly.  The first six miles sucked my balls off, it was all hills.  By mile 8 my arches were cramping, and from mile 11-12.5 I kept having to walk, or stop completely as I was squeezing my butt cheeks so tight so as not to shit my pants.  But I finished the half-marathon in a record breaking time of 2:50:37.  So that's something.  The funny thing was, is that, because I was registered for the full marathon, I still had a full marathon bib number.  If you ran the half your bib was blue, if you were running the full marathon, your bib was orange.  Anyway, so here I come little ol' me sprinting toward the finish line as if that was the pace I was keeping the whole time, and as you cross the finish line they announce your name and what not.  So as I cross the finish line I hear, "And finishing the Full Marathon with an amazing time of 2:50:37, Ashley Ann Hale."  Yes that would be amazing, I thought to myself, as a woman placed a medal around my neck for completing the FULL marathon.  For a moment I thought, I could just take this medal and tell people I ran the full thing...but guilt stirred in my stomach and I had to squeeze my butt cheeks even harder than before.  Through heavy breaths I said to that lady, I only ran the half.  She awkwardly took the medal off my neck and replaced it with the medal for the HALF and said, "well congrats anyway."  All this being said, I have signed up to run The Walt Disney World Marathon on January 11th, 2009, and I intend fully to not be an idiot this time around with training.  My official start date for training begins next Monday, but I plan to start this week with some 2-3 milers, and keep track of training on this here blog.  So look out streets of New York, I'm coming for you.  For reals this time!!!! 

Kentucky Marathon: Are you kidding me? Seriously? What? No? Really?!

These questions came around the 19 mile marker of my marathon. And not in relation to my inability to finish or anything like that. They were in regard to hills. Placed at the mile 19 marker. That's gross. Who DOES that? Also, these were not thoughts I had. They were words I screamed out loud to the hills that the other runners could hear. And judge me for. As being crazy.

Well, to run a marathon, I feel you have to be crazy. This is a realization I had around mile 14. Someone who would honestly want to run for 3 or 4 or 5 hours on end must be fucking crazy. So, people, can we please get over me swearing outloud? You're all just as crazy as me.

Last weekend saw the arrival of my very first marathon. The inspiration for this entire blog. And I'd like to think the start of ladies around the globe wanting to run races in high heels.



The above race definitely happened because of this blog.

When I arrived in Kentucky, I was fear stricken. I got off the plane and immediately was hit with the reality that I had actually flown to Kentucky to run a marathon. The sole purpose of my trip was a marathon. Though truthfully, I can't imagine another reason for making a pit stop in Kentucky. For the chicken? Hilarious. That's 'Two and a Half Men' hilarious.

Anyways... Friday was spent not doing much of anything. I picked up my race packet, had lunch, took a nap, read, got dinner, went back to my bed to call it a night. It was 8:30PM. Throw in a six pack of some alcoholic beverage (Mike's Hard Lemonade ladies!) and you have the perfect day.

As I lay in bed at, can I repeat, 8:30PM, terror swept over me. Am I really going to run 26.2 miles tomorrow? Am I ready? What if I die? Oh man. What if I die? The encouragement I received from my parents centered on them telling me a story about a friend of theirs that died running the Boston Marathon. I'm assuming they picked that up in Good Parenting magazine.

I managed to force myself to sleep by listening to recorded tracks of thunderstorms. Judgement is not necessary.

4:30am. Wake up call. The concierge, no doubt, making one of a hundred/thousand calls that morning. I was up and out of bed. I ran to the window to check the skies. Lovely enough, our hotel suite was on the 3rd level, which really meant Floor 1.5, with a half view of the sky and a half view of the ground. Very Fraggle Rock meets World War II bunker. The half sky was full of clouds. I assumed the other half was as well.

The TV confirmed: Showers through the early morning. Perfect.

I suited up into my running tights and put on my black tang top. No. No. This won't do. I threw off my plain black shirt and exchanged it for my Penguins Without Pants college comedy group shirt. This shirt features Abraham Lincoln being chopped down by a lumberjack Penguin. I'm sure Kentucky would get the irony. I looked in the mirror. With my bib in place on the front of my stomach, one more time, terror hit me. "You're going to run a marathon today." Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me?

6:30am. Bus transport. My first time on a school bus in about 10 years. Lets see. 23-10= 13. Yes, that's about right. My first time doing simple mathematics in about 10 years. In a world where radio has been replaced by tv which has been replaced by the internet which has been replaced by ipods which have been replaced by robot dragons, it's nice to see that yellow school buses remain unchanged by time.

7:20am. Race line up. I think most of my body is in my stomach. Ten minutes until a 5 hour (at least for me) journey begins. I pretty much decide I'm going to stick in between the 11:30-12:30 minute miles. My only goal in this race is to finish. And look so pretty, right ladies? This meant I was wearing a garbage bag. For the rain. And for looking pretty.

7:30am. The race begins. The gun shot noise is faint. I'm about 5000 people from the start so it takes me about 9 minutes to get past the starting line. A guy next to me tells me "Walk for as long as you can." What? You mean like...til mile 19? Too late to ask. And we're off running. I split from my friend very early. I'm among thousands of runners. Mile 1 is my toughest usually. It's the mile I try to talk myself out of running. Usually if I can get past Mile 1, I'm set for my long runs. Mile 1 passes and I'm still running. This is a good sign.

Mile 2. Mile 3. I cannot believe I'm doing this. I am dumbfounded. I'm going strong until... The Hills. Not the Lauren Conrad kind, thankfully but not thankfully enough. These are HILLS. Like hill-Hills. Like mountain goat-bear hills. (Read: Not singularly Mountain Goats or Bears, but a cross-breeding accident that resulted in a goat-bear.) I'm dying on these. I curse pretty much every foe I've ever had, including my grade-school teacher Mrs. Bolduc. Grr. Grade school hatred.

Mile 8. At the top of the hills is a man that I assume the marathon staff posted there to specifically say "No more hills, that's it." He probably became the most beloved man of the day. And picked up several ladies later that night by saying "Remember that guy who said there were no more hills, that was me!"

Mile 8.5-9. Chuchill downs. We had to run through the shittiest part of town to get there, but running through the race track area was super awesome. Looking up at the immense stadium was incredible. Although, whose idea was it to play the sound of old horse races being called in 1920's style voices? I mean, I think I heard the word carpetbaggers in the recording? Hilarious? Like 'How I Met Your Mother' hilarious?

Mile 9. Mile 10. Mile 11. I'm coasting. This is just weird. How is this happening? Oh. That's when I realize my legs are at that numb running stage. Cool. Ahead of me I see the split for half-marathon runners and marathon runners. It's a simple banner with arrows pointing out the split, but to me it looks like an apple tree with a snake wrapped around it. Temptation. Do I say 'fuck it' and split with the halfers and or do I do what I came here with the terrified will to do? I look around me for encouragement to see who will be running the marathon split with me. I'm admist a sea of half-marathon runners. Pussies.

Mile 12. The split has occurred. It's a lonely road now. Before I was surrounded by hundreds of people. I was basically forced to keep going or else face a Lion King-Mufasa type death (Aw, remember that. Childhood scars.) Now, it's just me and like 6 other people. There's people ahead of me and behind, but it's basically just me. I want to crap myself. And in this moment of wanting to crap myself (Remember looking pretty ladies!) I lose all faith in myself. I feel like a band geek in the 12th grade, with no friends, with nowhere to sit at lunch, I probably have braces and BO, people probably call me something like "Booger turd" or "Turd Knuckles", I'm probably the treasurer of like Bug Club or Numbers Club or Labrynth the movie Club, and... well you get the point. I want to give up so badly. Mile 14 feels no better. Neither does mile 15. This is hopeless. Oh why didn't I just split the other way.

We reach a nice part of Louisville. I'm still running. I see a pacer near me. She looks to be a 12:00 pacer. Cool. So I can't be too bad right? I see the mile 16 sign. Below it a clock. 3:03:17. Hmm. Lets take my newly found math skills and put them to work. 3:03:17 - 9:00 = 2:54:17. Which means I have 6:00:00 - 2:54:17 = 3:05:43 to finish 26.2-16= 10.2 miles. And that's when it happened.

I realized I can totally do this.

Tears. Just so many lady tears. Lady lady lady tears everywhere. It was like I was watching 'Sleepless in Seattle,' 'The Breakfast club,' 'Ghost,' and like eighteen puppies just playing around in front of me with like... one kind of baby of everything. It was a revelation. It sounds so gag-worthy to talk about, and I'm not one for moments like that really, but it was just the most wonderful moment. It was like I sleighed a dragon. Or for the ladies, like I had just found the perfect sale. I mean, it was nirvana. I realized "I can do this. I can do this walking the rest of the way." And that just made me want to run as hard as I could.

Mile 17 felt like nothing. 18, what? Mile 19 was the swearing at the hills (again no LC in sight). At mile 20, my ankle started to give. I knew it would come into the race at some point. I walked a bit. Ran a little. Walked. Ran. Swore outloud. Repeat. Then I noticed this lady was sort of pacing with me. I stopped. She stopped. And around mile 21 I realized we were running this thing together. We introduced ourselves. Jennifer. Jessica. Jessica. Jennifer. She was from the area and so we chatted it up about Louisville and New York and what else, marathons. Oh also, she reveals to me she could hear me cussing at several parts of the course. Excellent.

Mile 22 passes. 23. 24. It was incredible. I felt myself get exhausted but I wanted to keep going. I guess that's how ladies feel when they're giving birth. They're so tired and sweaty and lady-ed-out, but they keep going. To get that baby out of them. My baby was the marathon. Yeah, that analogy almost works.

Mile 25 was approaching and Jeni and I had agreed to run-run the last 1.2 miles. So as we hit that sign, I hit my power jam on my iPod: the theme song to the Biggest Loser "Proud" by Heather Small. Yo, I don't care who you are. That song, upon hearing it, will turn your heart into a butterfly that Mariah Carey sings about for all the ladies.

This last mile is taking forever. I keep having to hit restart on my iPod because I want to finish to my heart-butterfly-biggest-loser song. I have pretty much nothing left. I really want to go back on the agreement to run the last 1.2. I really do. But then I thought about mile 12-15. It's that kind of thinking that almost had me quit this entire thing. I kept running. We approached the 26 mile marker. Oh my god/allah/jehovah/buddha/tom cruise. Only .2 more. Only .2 more. Jeni and I come to a corner where several marathoners who have finished sit in chairs stretching. They scream to us "It's right around that corner. It's right around that corner."

We run a little farther and the grand reveal happens. Right around that corner. The finish line. And again. On cue. Puppies with babies watching Meg Ryan movie - tears. Jeni and I look at each other and just decide to sprint to the end. Or what we thought was sprinting but was probably just slow-motion running. Chariots of Fire style.

I see my friend who finished the half-marathon and she's cheering. Oh man. This is totally what Oprah feels like when she gives away cars to people.

At last I cross the finish line. 5 hours and 29 minutes. Success. They place a marathon medal around my neck. Jeni and I shake hands. And... well. That's it. I eat a banana. A bagel. A granola bar. Another banana. (I'm fucking starving at this point). And that's it. That's it. I mean. That's what my mind kept saying. That's it. That's it. Wow. Unreal. I just did that. I just ran a marathon. No more lady tears. Just contentment.

The next day, I felt like Mel Gibson at the end of the movie 'Forever Young.' If you'll recall that's the movie where he is criogenically frozen, then unfrozen, then ages into death. Yes. That's what I felt like. I think I slept most of the day. And drank these things called Diet Ale 8's which are nothing short of wonderful.

Overall, my experience is nothing new. I guess this is why people run marathons. They're crazy, and they need an outlet for all that crazy. In doing so, they're led to a self-realization. Of what? Probably that they're crazy. But maybe more than that, that even when you may feel like there's nothing left, there is. And when faced with the last 1.2 miles, you may feel that you can't run it and it would be easier to walk, you should run it anyways.

Why? To prove to yourself you can do anything because you can, honestly. But maybe more because, I mean, think about all hot dudes/hot ladies you'll impress by doing it. Yeah, this lady definitely went home with the "The hills are over" guy. High fives for being pretty.



And onto the next race...

18 Miles... Only 8 more?

Actually, 8.2, but who's counting?

This past weekend saw the miraculous achievement of 18 miles. I ran along a busy highway in Syracuse, NY. There's a little side walk along the way. So here I was, running next to a Best Buy, a Mall, a Bed Bath & Beyond... yes, a BB&B! I also attempted my toughest hill during the training. I ended up running up it and not stopping, which took about every positive, optimistic bone in my body to defeat my naturally cynical viewpoint on most things in life. What a terrible sentence. See?

Then I ran past Syracuse University. Ah, old mems. Mems. I got to run through a graveyard and then past the house I lived with 4 dudes and a lady. Oh 814 Lancaster. I then ran by my apt of debauchery where my Senior year was spent. How I survived that apt I'll never know. No heat. Constant drinking. Many poor decisions. One painting of a cat. Just insanity.

Think the run is done yet? Nope that only takes us up to mile 13. I wanted to kill someone.

I ran the final 5 miles back, walking probably 4 of them when all was said and done. I ran the final mile strong, realizing I still had plenty of gas in the tank, which was encouraging. Once home, I fell face first into my bed and fell asleep with my hat over my eyes. And passed out for about 2 hours. Then I went out for a Garden Burger and friends!

So. This is where I am. This week is a 8 mile, then the monster is next weekend. I am routing where to run the 20 miles. I think I might drive to Long Island and find a nice park away from the city.

I kind of want to hire someone to drive in front of me during the 20 mile run and yell at me through a blowhorn. Any takers?

A Solid Month has passed since my last post...

And here I am. Now pretty much a month out from the set Kentucky Marathon. And how do I feel? I just want it to be the day. April 26th.

I've hit the point in training where it's just become a game of forcing myself to go and do these runs. Knowing that the marathon will be much tougher than what I'm running now is the only thing that gets me out there....fear. I ran 16 miles last weekend, my longest run to date. I finished with a time of 3 hours and 10 minutes, with one bathroom break. So...that's pretty decent. Aren't you glad I told you about that bathroom break, too?

I figure I'll come in at a solid 5 hours with some change. I'm perfectly excited with that. In fact, that's stupendous to me. To go from being this 200+ kid in high school (youch!) to now being able to run a full marathon astounds me. And just makes me do little dances in front of strangers on public transportation. It's either that realization that makes me dance or my lack of shame. Both most likely play a part.

I can honestly see myself getting really into the half-marathon circuit for a while. I enjoy running up until around that 12 mile mark and then I'm just like...I'm sorry, seriously 14.2 more miles? Really? So after this Kentucky one, for which I now believe I can do, I'll take a break from the full marathon runs. I think I'll possibly head down for the Disney one in January.

This upcoming weekend, I venture to do the 18 mile run. And then two weeks following on week 15, I will be engaging in the 20 mile run. Then it's taper time. I know I haven't been as vigilant with my weekly workouts, missing possibly 2 a week sometimes (youch!) but I don't cheat myself on the long runs. I do those and work those out.

I believe thats the key to the success. I think whenever someone tells me "I couldn't possibly run a marathon," I realize that it's not because that person couldn't run a marathon. Everyone can potentially run a marathon. Even without training. You will want to kill yourself after doing so. But I guess a marathon is like any other thing in life (yes get ready for the deep metaphor prose time) that you need to invest yourself into believing you can do. It's not impossible. It's just work. And belief.

God, I better finish this marathon otherwise, I am just going to look super silly for writing things like the deep thoughts above. You are all free to punch me in the stomach if I say things like that to you in person.

Also...I cannot believe it's March already. Yeesh. Oh no I'm sorry. Youch!

It's been a while since the world fell in love

I dont know what that title refers to...

Oh maybe because it's Valentines Week. (Yeah what's the deal with Valentines Day, getting a week?)

So I'm in like week 8 of my training. Near that? Week 6ish? I'm unsure. But at this point, I'm up to running in the teens of miles. I run 13 miles this weekend and am...thrilled about it. In that way that people get thrilled to wear a velcro suit and get heaved about 20 feet to a wall of velcro. Well, some people really like that. I'd kind of poo my pants I think.

Okay, off track. So my training was derailed for a week when I was sick and now it's possible I have a cold thats going around. Awesome. Training for marathons in the Northeast in the winter is tough. It's tough in general... but when you're battling snow, sleet, rain, cold all in one run...it's like a gauntlet. I'm happy that I haven't quit though... I can't tell you how many times I've almost just stopped running and wanted to just go into a diner and have a muffin and read for an hour. Or watch reruns of America's Next Top Model.

It's most likely the support (and jeers) I've been getting from my friends, coworkers, and family. I really appreciate the support (and jeers). Keep the support (and jeers) coming!

Sweatin' to the Oldies

Some people think I'm crazy for running this marathon. I agree. I am crazy. But you should have figured that out before the Marathon thing. I mean, I've hit a child with my car. (Note: I actually just hit the bike he was sitting on; he in turn fell over because I hit the bike...not even hit...nudged...nudged the bike).

As Week 3 of training has come to hump day, I really must say the only problem with training is the fact that I train and then I'm like...okay, so...should I be...doing something more? Like pulling a car behind me now? I haven't given in to that impulse...yet. Although, my first long run (5 miles) I felt like I might die and that I should give up. But then this past weekend I ran 7 miles and it wasn't death. So I chalked up my deathful 5 mile run to being hungover. Which...is probably not the best condition to run in. Or live life in period.

But the thing that helps me the most with a lot of the long runs is the music I listen to. I've always used music as "my thing" to get through all the tough times. All the floods. All the fires. All the dust bowls. And now, this marathon. I'll share my method of making playlists by sharing my main mix to take on my long runs. The playlist is called "Jackie Joyner's Jams". Yeah. I'm hilarious. Here's a selection from the mix...

Date with the Night - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Changes - Tupac
All That She Wants - Ace of Base
Hard Breaks - Alberta Cross
Can You Feel It? - Apples in Stereo
She's A Rejecter - Of Montreal
Something to Believe in - Aqualung
Down on the Corner - Creedence Clearwater
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger - Daft Punk
Young Folks - Dawn Landes
July! July! - Decemberists
What do You Want Me To Say - The Dismemberment Plan
Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac
The Funeral - Band of Horses
Hurricane - Bob Dylan
Heard It Through the Grapevine - The Temptations

Basically...my way of making a running mix is to pick songs that could be on a soundtrack to my life and also involve running. A lot of people like high energy constantly, and run to things like Godsmack...I would probably run off a cliff if I had to listen to constant guitars, constant screaming, constant anything. So for each song I put on my mix, I think...hmm I could see this being a moment where I'm chasing after the one I love whose in a taxi leaving me forever, or I could see this being a moment where I'm chasing after a plane that I'm about to miss, or I could see myself running to this in an opening title sequence...and so on.

Also, the embarrassing songs on the mix are to make me laugh, trying to forget I'm running 15 miles. These include:

What a Girl Wants - Christina Aguilera
Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne
How Will I know - Whitney Houston
Summergirls - LFO

I mean, honestly, the secret to running a marathon lies in the power of LFO.

Day Two: 30 Minute Run/Law & Order: Canine Division

I've said it before, I'll say it again. There is nothing like running through Queens, NY in the wee hours of the morning. Today's event was a (Greek) wife and husband yelling back and forth to each other. I only heard a brief part since I was running through. I'm going to name them Spiroche and Mileneneaise.

Spiroche: You're crazy. The dog did not try to kill you last night.
Mileneneaise: Yes he did. I have proof. Look he's doing it again.
Spiroche: Ahh, what is he doing? What? What?

I'm guessing the dog was flipping her off. Probably. Definitely. Or stabbing. Her. Again.


My first thirty minute run was fine. I didn't have any real problems though at one point I did want to just stop and be like, that's enough? Right. I ran "almost" 30 minutes... that's just like 30 minutes. But I forged onward, knowing 26.2 miles is a mental challenge more than anything and if I settle now for not finishing, what will I do around mile 15 when I want to kill everyone who ever told me that running a marathon was a worthwhile experience. Or now that I know of a murderous dog, I can just get that dog to murder them.

Here's another random thought, do you think that there is someone at the police station (THE police station) who's job it is to do Yahoo! and Google searches for murder all day just in case they can find a lead on someone's blog, like that they have a post where they're like "Murdered a bellhop today. And then had lunch. Laters." You know. All Law & Order: SVU shit...right?

Anyways, it's all mental. And getting over those mile markers in terms of time and not miles is a first step. The longest I've ever run/walk was 18 miles and that was because of heartbreak and poor time management. Oh...maybe all I need to complete this marathon is a heartbreak. Hmm, time for (another) poor life decision maybe?