photos of Arizona PF Chang half marathon

Thumbs up-- this was about mile 7 and the guy taking the picture was sitting between the runners on one side of the interstate and cars on the other.



The guys were hilairous: dressed as Roman running twins-- they even had the same stride.


UP to the victory party

My honored heroes and the sponsors who donated to the Leukemia society

I finished the Arizona half marathon!

Second tour of duty to port-oh-john w/ Ingrid from TNT. Cold that morning so we piled on the clothes and then added them to the trail of the discarded gloves, old shirts, sweats on the course.

Took forever to get from my corral (22) to the start-- actually took nearly an hour to get to the start.
I was in corral 14-- would have been my pre-stress fracture pace, but I moved down to corral 22-- oops. Another lesson learned. Coral 22 was for walkers- I just arbitrarily picked it. Here's what I learned: don't go out w/ the elites who will stampede over you or make you fly so fast you can't go more than a half mile w/out collapsing. BUT don't also go out with people much slower than you or you will be running much further than a half marathon as your run in zig-zag fashion from one slow moving road block to another. I felt like my feet were bushwhacking their way through a dense forest of legs and torsos. I got so sick of moving from one side of the field to the other that I just ran straight and yelled out "on your right" or "excuse me. Can go between you?" People appreciated that- "Thank you for at least asking" one lady said good naturedly-- apparently someone who made the same corral mistake as me just barreled into her moments before.

My dad noted on line (miracle of computers) when I passed the 5K mark at 41 minutes and called my mom to tell her. When I called him, he said "You really picked it up after the first 3 miles"! What? HOw did you know that!!!? Then he explained that the Arizona website had it all in real time! And every time my chip passed a mat the time got registered on the website so my dad back in Michigan could virtual watch my progress in Arizona. Yeah, I really picked it up after 3 miles-- I had mostly bushwhacked my way through the lines of slow moving people blocks and got to coral 17 with the jog/runners. This was when it got fun and I think I just grinned the whole way from there on out!!

Okay--gots to go to PT--- will feel very good today!
My finish time was 2 hours and 47 minutes and some seconds. Much better than my goal--which, w/ my just healed leg, was anything under 4 hours. I never stopped running-- not even through water stations-- just grabbed two cups-- as I ran by== one to drink/spill down my shirt and one to toss water on my back and legs and still running.

I had ear to ear grin-- so beautiful Arizona is!!! I took some photos as I ran-- kept the camera in my water bottle pouch. Will post those soon.

My favorite moment (there were many but this saved me): the part of my body that killed the whole time were my feet-- I stupidly, nostolgically wore the same shoes I had for Bayshore in May and my feet felt every pound of the pavement until it was like that psycho from Misery was hammering the bottoms of my feet with a hobbling sledge hammer. As I ran up one of the bridges around mile ten and my feet pulsed with pain, I saw a man with a huge sign. I ran to my left to read it--anything to keep my mind off the bottoms of my feet.

His sign read: IF YOUR FEET KILL, THEN YOU ARE KICKING BUTT!
Oh what an angel God sent me. What an angel. What a perfect message for that moment of pain. I laughed out loud and suddenly each throb became part of the delightful message on the angel's sign.

I love rock-n-roll marathons-- over 25,000 in the half marathon alone (reason for the wave starts) and 9000 for the full marathon. Cheerleaders-- really, never thought I would say this, but the cheerleaders also go me through my race! Something about someone cheering for you to keep running actually helps you keep running.

When I rounded the corner for the last .1 miles almost to the finish, ACDC was playing--don't even remember what but I loved it. I was sprinting at this point, having speeded up my pace in planned increments the whole race so I could finish at a sprint--knowing I didn't need to reserve any more energy.
Gramen says:
miles 0-4 13.48 pace
miles 4-10 12.38 pace
miles 10-12 11.41 pace
miles 12-13 all out sprint-- registered 5.57 as my fastest time (that could be one second and probably was a second as I sprinted down a hill that last mile) But I think I averaged a 7 minute mile for the last mile.

Had so much fun and can't wait for the next race-- Tracy, Lou, and Jacqueline and I are already planning the next three races to do together!!!

So nervous-- only one day till I leave

This man is such a saint. His wife died of a blood cancer many years ago. Instead of becoming bitter, I think it might have made him the most generous man on the planet. He comes every Saturday a.m. before 7 a.m., whether 90 and humid or below 10 and freezing, to Stoney Creek and brings food, a warm heart, and drives down to mile threee to set up a "Team in Training" water/lemondage/hot cidar you name it stop. Or what coach Ken calls "The Water Cooler". As in "Laura! Stop lingering around the water cooler and get running again!" His words here I will carry with me to Arizona and my race this Sunday. For all this love and support, he wants one thing: for us to finish our races.

Beautiful by car not by running shoes

Wednesday morning, I was so in awe at the beauty of the snow covered trees, at the snow lasting in the below freezing Michigan temps, at the surreal look of the blue/black morning against the stark white that I grabbed my camera from my center console and started taking pictures out my car window on my way into work.

When I left work, I was equally in love with pink-gold of the sunset as a backdrop for these snow hearty trees. So, out came the camera again.



I couldn't wait to get home and run in this cold and this beauty.

Another lesson learned the hard way.

I put on my many layers: Underarmor (with a name like that I always picture those scenes in movies and epic literature where they show the "dressing of the hero" in his armor-- a stock scene used by Homer and later JR Tolkien to show the transition from the every day to the perilous/glorious impending battle). And so, I donned my UnderArmor, my over armor, my glow in the headlights running pants, my two sports bras, my UnderArmor shirt, my turtle neck, my second layer of dry fit long sleeved running shirt, my third layer of zip up running jacket, my Garmen, my I-Pod, my thinsulate ear protectors (over my headphones) my wool turtle collar that goes up to just under my eyes, my TNT baseball hat w/ flashing headlamp to see pitfalls in the dark and to warn others to see me from their speeding cars, my wool hat over my baseball hat, my strapped around my wrist water bottle, my black and red waterpoof trail running shoes, and, most importantly, a well watered and leashed Rotterman dog, beloved Robbie.

Off we went to glorious running (after nearly an hour of "the dressing of us heroes" who were about to battle the cold).

Well, at first it was glorious. I loved the smell of the crisp air, the glint of iced over snow in meringue like tufts along the sidewalk. The trees hanging heavy with snow above me. The pumping sounds of "Turn the Music up!" I planned to go 11 miles today because I completely messed up my plan below and did not do a long run the Saturday after my 10 miler!!! The vacation laziness got me. Didn't run Saturday, Didn't' run Sunday. Then ran on Wednesday Dec. 26 for 3.5 miles. I went to physical therapy Friday a.m., came home and changed into my running gear (see above) started my car to get warm for my drive to Stoney Creek, came back inside and promptly fell asleep. Mark came home three hours later to find my car still on in the driveway, and me in full running gear, including my shoes, sleeping deeply in bed. Then came New Years and holiday celebrations. Hung out with Lisa, Erin, Mark,and Adorjian.



No running, in fact, not much movement the next day, Tuesday.
Did not run again until the next day, this wintry Wed-- my planned 11 miler. Despite nearly 7 days off, my breath and legs felt good. I could do 11 miles, even if I needed to stop a few times and walk/and or stretch. I was turning from my street onto the next leg of my run when I tripped on some dark crevice in the road and went sprawling across the ice. Luckily no face scraping sprawl and no twisted ankle. Just a very frightened, yelping dog. I landed right on Robbie's unsuspecting back. I felt so bad. I sat up and just held him for a while but he started wagging his tale and becoming "Mr. Lick Lick" slobbering all on my face, so up I got and started running again. That's when things got annoying. Patches of dry, smooth running, heart-warming sidewalk gave way to sheets of ice, and I had to run as if I was wearing ballet point shoes-- like I was some kind of overdressed, gangly performer in the Nutcracker-- gingerly making sure each foot fall was a point on the ground, not a slide. Okay, annoying but doable. Well, then came the park I love so much to run around or on (when I want snow cushion for my bad right leg). This was darn right ankle twisting, knee torcing treachery. The snow, usually springy, was also hard as marble but not smooth-- jagged little, unforgiving peaks and valleys. I ended up wobbling more than running and almost fell again on my poor dog!! I pointed my headlamp down as far as I could to spotlight each little upward slope of icy snow but realized, when I saw the endless lumps carved by those who had walked there, that now I would have to hop/walk/amble/avoid more than run. So I just gave up and walked fast-- even this had me weak left ankle complaining from the strain. But then, But then ahhh dry sidewalk again and ever so pump me up sounds of "Lose Yourself" blaring through my headphones. I got in a stride and Robbie got in a happy stride behind me. Every now and then I had to hurtle a snow bank at the intersection of sidewalk and apartment entrance, but that was fun, reminded me of the doable but unpredictable trail running I did this summer.

Robbie was nimble enough at this point to keep up with me.

All the while, traffic to my left, Robbie's side, whizzed by on 11 mile road.
I planned to run us down 11 mile to Woodward and then maybe past that to Coolidge and then see how far Garmen said we had gone.

Dry Sidewalk gave way to complete iced over snow again--this terrain worse than at the park--an ice encased snowed over sidewalk that was also cut in half by construction and a billowing/flapping orange canopy hung over a block long fence.
Okay, thought, more annoying hop/walk/jogging and I started my awkward trot over the mini snow mountains. I felt a tug on my left arm, the arm wrapped in Robbie's leash.
I glanced to my left just to assure myself that separation anxiety ridden dog was still trotting right at my heal. He was not there! He was all the way on 11 mile in front of on-coming traffic. I screamed. I could hear myself over the blaring music in my ears. I screamed at Robbie to "come here!" he didn't! I tugged at his collar. He stayed firmly planted in the dry 11 mile cars whizzing around him road. I tugged again and the blessed collar almost slipped off his neck onto his nose.
I realized I would have to somehow get this 95 pound dog, forcefully, back on the iced over snow. I grabbed his two front legs sat back on the snow and pulled. Oh it wasn't working!!! A small, white sedan zoomed up and stopped just before hitting Robbie. I screamed again. yeah, I was almost in tears by this time. I managed to grab both his back and front legs in some sort of bear hug and hoisted him off of 11 mile and directly on top of me as I fell back on the hardened snow. I sat there for a while just holding him and letting my heartbeat slow down. I said, "Okay Robbie. It's okay. We've had enough for tonight". Stupid me. I thought that assurance would be enough for him to just trot by my legs again back home, but the minute I got up, he bolted for the street again!!! I had to grab him quickly and basically half carry him/half push him until we left the Alpine block of sidewalk or it was dry, busy 11 mile for him! The flapping canvas also scared him to no end and he quivered every time the wind picked it up and slammed it back against the metal fence.

Once we got on dry sidewalk again, he was fine and we jogged home.
With all this adventure, the Garmen said: 2.5 miles. That's all I accomplished.

So, I bit the bullet and last night, Thursday, I went sans dog, sans beautiful snow covered trees, sans Garmen to the gym and ran on the boring treadmill. Only got to 4.3 miles before I couldn't take the sweat nor the boredom anymore (again, I had planned 6-8 to make up for only 2.5 on Wed.).

So, rest today, and tom at 7:15 I am picking up Lou so we can do 6-8 miles at Stoney Creek. Ah Stoney. It will be cold, it will be beautiful and crisp, and it will, most importantly have PLOWED SIDEWALKS!!!!

So, again this morning I couldn't help taking photos of the still beautiful trees, but this time I realized I'd have to wait till this beauty melted before I ran in it-- dressing the hero does not always arm the hero against unforeseen foes.