Decorating Diaries: The Blue Lagoon

Well friends, it looks as though the blue carpet in the exercise will have to stay. I stopped in yesterday to talk to the carpet store guy and he said with both the bookcase and the weight machine, it's highly unlikely they'd be able to stretch out a new carpet as needed. They can do a cutaway around the bookshelf, which doesn't thrill me but would be serviceable. However, the weight machine is huge and a problem.

I'm ready to let it go. This room was never meant to be a redecorating "project." I just wanted the ducks off the wall. We could look into calling the people we bought the weight machine from out here and pay them to disassemble and then reassemble the weights, but that's more money (and time) than I planned on spending.

Blair is not one to give up the fight, however. Last night he pulled the installation instructions out for the weight machine along with his tool kit. And although he hasn't touched it yet, there are wrenches and hammers and drills lying all over the place, terrifying me to no end. I'd prefer a working weight machine on blue carpet to a busted weight machine on beige.

We still haven't reached a decision on the walls. I'm wondering how a chocolate brown and turquoise would look. Two walls of each color, symbolic of earth and water.  I want to get this thing painted by Sunday. A timetable for completion would look like this:

• Thursday, day: Attempt to repair cracks in plaster using massive amounts of my favorite homeowner's tool: spackle.
• Thursday, night: Explain to Blair in no uncertain terms that if he thinks he can do a better job of covering the cracks then he's welcome to it. Storm off in a huff when he points out the blobs of spackle falling off the wall and onto the carpet.
• Friday: Ignore my promise to Blair to redo the spackle and hope the primer covers all mistakes.
• Saturday: First coats of paint go on. Stare at wall in misery, wondering what on earth prompted me to select these colors.
• Sunday: Decide, "Screw it. It beats the ducks," and apply a second coat.

I doubt I'll get to all the trim, but let's just watch and see how close reality comes to the predictions above, shall we?

Kiawah Island Marathon 2007 - Part II

At dinner Saturday night my friend Jack (see: Savior, Part I) asked me what moments of the marathon stood out for me. He said most runners usually have one moment that sums up the race for them. If I had to pick one moment, it would probably be Jack's appearance on the course. However, I have a couple of additional moments to share:

• As Jack and I were running in I said to him, "This is the hardest thing I've ever done." A woman spectator on the side of the road heard me and yelled, "But it's going to be the best thing you've ever done!"
• Before the race, my friend Michael e-mailed me a list of tips for race day. Tip #11 was: "Don't feel bad when the fat boy passes you." After the halfway point, I noticed a guy about my age in front of me, a good 20-25 pounds overweight. He and I kept trading spots. I'd pass him than have to slow down and he would pass me, then I'd catch up, etc.  At mile 22 I watched him jog past me into the distance and I thought of Michael's advice and just grinned.
• After the race, I threw myself into Blair's arms and said, "I'm never doing that again!"

Speaking of Blair, he almost missed my race finish, which was my fault.  I wanted to get Blair a gift to thank him for putting up with all the training hours, weekend runs, and time spent talking/complaining/obsessing about running.  Blair is a difficult man to buy for. He just doesn't want much. I ended up presenting him with a t-shirt after the race that said, My Wife Ran A Marathon And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.

I told my best friend about the planned gift and she suggested I also have a t-shirt made for me to wear across the finish line. I loved the idea, so I printed up a t-shirt that said, I love my husband and had a friend meet me just before the turn for the finish line.
After the race. Click to enlarge.

What I didn't foresee is that Blair was on the lookout for me in a sleeveless t-shirt and was discounting women runners going by in short sleeves. I saw him in the crowd and shouted and waved and pointed at my t-shirt, but he had been planning on getting video of me running in which we missed, because he didn't recognize me until it was too late! 

AFTER THE RACE

I collapsed on the ground for a good 15 minutes, waiting for the Advil to kick in. I lay on my back and tried to ignore how much I was hurting. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find a 4-year-old staring at me, finger in her mouth. I smiled and she ran away. I can't say I blame her. I was not a pretty sight.

It took about 35 minutes for me to feel 50-60% better. And within an hour, although I was still hobbling around like I had broken kneecaps, I felt pretty good. We all sat around and talked about which marathon we should run next year.

Jack advised an ice-bath and Royce and I briefly contemplated just going and standing in the ocean. I settled for an ice-pack on the sore parts. Taking a shower was an experience and this is where my empathy for the elderly kicks in. I had to stop and think about the best way to leverage myself over and into the tub. I finally grabbed the towel rack on the back wall and braced myself against the shower door while gingerly lifting one leg and then the other, all the while thinking, "Why do they make these tubs so darn high??" 

Below are some pictures for you to enjoy. Click on them to enlarge.

Villa deck, about 7 a.m. race morning

        

One marathon down... who knows how many to go???

Kiawah Island 2007 Marathon - Part I

I have never been in so much pain in my life.

That's the bad news. The good news--no, the great news--is that I finished, I had fun, and yes, I am going to do it again.

6 a.m., Saturday: My alarm goes off. I've been awake on and off for over an hour, but for the most part got in a good night's sleep.  I hop in the shower and into my clothes laid out the night before. Stepping out onto our beach deck at 7, the air is mild. The predicted high is 78. I start the race in a sleeveless tee and am grateful I did. By 10 am, temps are in the low 70's and I'm sweating.

I told myself I'd run the first 3 miles at a 9:30 pace.  My first mile was actually 10 minutes, partly due to course congestion at the beginning. My second mile was 9 minutes, and my third was dead on at 9:30.  I had problems throughout the day holding a steady pace. However, I hit mile 13, the halfway point, at 1 hour 58 minutes, only 1 minute behind schedule.

Blair was on it as my pit crew. He met me at the halfway point and handed me Gu and water. Then while I applied chapstick, he opened BioFreeze and spread it on my lower back. One quick kiss and I was off. "See you in two hours!" I said.

Miles 13-15 were good, but quiet. 3100 people signed up to run the half-marathon compared to 1200 for the full. The course seemed very empty and stretched ahead of me like a racetrack unfurled. I was feeling okay. Taking the turnoff at mile 13, where all the half-marathon runners zoom on to the finish while the full marathon runners go on to lap 2, didn't bother me. I'd run  much farther than 13 miles before and while I felt a bit tired due to my uneven pace, I still felt good.

Then I hit 16. 5. Or rather, mile 16.5 hit my outer, upper right thigh.  It felt like a small spasm, which wasn't bad. I stopped and stretched and kept on. The spasm got an eensy bit stronger and the lower back pain chimed in.  A woman who saw me stop and stretch (and pound my thigh) handed me her tube of Aspercreme. I applied it, but it didn't do anything for me.  I walked a bit between miles 17 and 20 but knew I was in trouble. My thigh hurt.

"Suck it up," said my brain, but my body said, "Right. You are not in charge," and started walking. And that was my marathon. I walked the better part of the last 6 miles. Oh sure, I'd run sporadically, but the pain felt worse each time. However--and I want to be clear on this--I don't think the pain was so debilitating that I needed to walk as much as I did. I think I just didn't have the mental toughness to bear it out. There were a few times I absolutely HAD to stop, because of my leg. Plus, I was compensating for the spasm and had a very weird run going, making other parts of my body hurt. But overall, I think if this had been my third or fifth marathon, I could have gone much farther than I did.

I had started out hoping for a 4-hour marathon and when I started walking at mile 20, my time was still good enough that I thought if I ran/walked the last 6.2 I could still eke out a 4:15. But by mile 22, I was wondering if I'd be able to meet my outside goal of 4:30.

Then, a savior appeared. Jack, my running partner from home, appeared at mile 23.5. (Jack was a volunteer in the race but had run a marathon two months earlier.) I didn't even recognize him until I heard him say, "You're looking strong." (I was running at that point.)

Now people, I love my husband with every fiber of my soul. But I might be lying if I said I was ever so happy as to see another human being. Jack fell into step beside me and ran me in the final 3 miles. He talked to me, to keep my mind busy, and several times acted as impromptu masseur when the leg really cramped up  b/c I was running again. I walked/ran those last miles, more walk than run, but I credit Jack with getting me in under a 4 hour and 30 minute marathon. Formal results haven't been posted yet, but according to my watch, I was right at 4 hours and 27 minutes.

Here's an interesting thing. I sprinted the final .2.  That's not a long distance but it was easy and I felt no pain. That's why I say I think I could have overcome the leg trouble. I was able to ignore it when I needed to at the end, which means I could have done it before then.

TOMORROW: Seeing Blair at the finish line. After the race. Acquiring an empathy for the elderly and disabled.

Last Entry Before the Marathon

I leave tomorrow at 6:15 am for Kiawah Island. I'm not taking my laptop (work, schmurk) so I'm not sure if I'll have Internet access until I return home Sunday. Therefore, bear with me if this post jumps around a bit--I've got a lot on my mind.

• Foremost, of course, is Saturday's race. The forecast is calling for a high of 66. Low 50's is closer to the ideal, but given that I spent the summer training in 100 degree humidity, I ought to be okay. However, that high temp is messing with my planned wardrobe. I have put more thought into my clothes for this 4 hour event than I ever put into getting ready for either prom or my wedding.  The issue is zippered pockets. I must have zippered pockets in at least one shirt so I can carry GU. The plan was a t-shirt and over that a jacket with pockets . But if it's too hot for a jacket, I need to find a t-shirt with pockets. I have one, but it's sleeveless and not my favorite material.  This is when living in GSO and being able to zip out to a running store would be nice. As it is, I think I can stuff a GU in the teeny-tiny back pocket of my running skirt. (That's right. Skirt. I will be a lady when I run.)
• Then there's the race photo. As with last year, there will be a photographer at the finish line, snapping pictures of runners. My photo last year was terrible. I was taking what looked like granny steps, barely lifting my foot off the ground. This year, I'm getting my action shot. People, I might be coughing blood at the end but when I see that photographer I am going to put a bounce in my step and a big-ass smile on my face. I will be avenged...
• I have the greatest friends in the world. My phone has been ringing non-stop this morning with people calling to wish me good luck. And e-mails are pouring in. Thank you, everyone. It's going to be almost impossible not to run a good race, knowing how many people are rooting for me. I appreciate all the calls, e-mails,and thoughts more than any of you know. I will try not to suck on all your behalfs.
• On a completely different note, yesterday I was out running errands and as I left the Hallmark store, this car comes careening down the parking lot, aiming straight for me even though there's plenty of room for it to go around. I give the driver a semi-dirty look and he pulls up and rolls the passenger window down. Then this 21-year-old Brad Pitt look-alike leans over and--teeth gleaming and blond hair blowing gently in the breeze--says, "I am so sorry. The sun was in my eyes and I didn't see you. I'm really sorry." To which I replied, "Uh-buh-buh."  Nice to know pretty men can still make me go stupid.  (Which explains much of my behavior around Blair...love you, honey!!).

Okay. I've spent the morning doing laundry and it's time to start packing. I sense a lengthy process in front of me. Thanks everyone for all your well-wishes!