Breaking Barriers Blog

Enjoying the wine country after the race.

Have you ever set a goal for yourself that if you met it, then you would strive for bigger goal?  But then, you successfully met that first goal and then thought—oh, what have I done?  I just did that.  I’m happy, but now I’m wigged out. 

Last year, in April 2012, I ran the Boston Marathon, the one in the really high heat.  I qualified by running the Lincoln Marathon (Nebraska) by running a personal record (at the age of 56 by the way) in 3:53:23.  Now, I will tell you that I was considering retiring from running marathons.  Boston was my 15^th marathon and 15 is a good round number. 

So I trained really, really hard.  I was hoping to maybe run another personal record and go out with a bang—especially at Boston.  I ran a personal record at my first ever Boston Marathon in 2009 at the age of 54.  That was a phenomenal experience and I was hoping to repeat that in 2012.  But, it didn’t happen.  Instead, I ran a personal worst at 5:26.47.  Can I really blame the weather for such a huge time difference?  Yep, the most I can say about that performance is that I finished.

Needless to say, as the months rolled by, I stood firm on my decision to retire from running marathons.  I was ready to let the marathon running go—the exhausting training, time commitment, aching body.   Plus, it turned out, not only was I exhausted, but I had developed a severe ham string and glut injury from over training.  I took two months off from running and just did yoga. 

That was an interesting experience which increased my flexibility from non-existent to stiff and made me realize how tough it was to come back from not running for an extended length of time.  Yes, the injury healed but at what price.  It was a good two months before I felt comfortable doing a seven mile run.  Forget trying to run at a decent pace, it just wasn’t happening.

I always found it easier and more exciting to train if I had a goal—a challenging goal.  So I set a goal for myself to train for a half-marathon and, if I beat two hours, I would train for one more marathon—so I could end on a high note.  I decided to train for the Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon.  I had planned to go with friends anyway—we love the wine garden after the race, plus it’s a beautiful course.  I originally thought I’d just run it easy, but now I had this goal.

So I trained for the last three months and got my longest run up to 14 miles and weekly mileage up to 40, not bad but not great.  When I stood on that starting line, I didn’t know what to expect.  I remembered the hills… 

Well, the ending was a happy one.  I crossed the finish line in 1:58:21.  But what was so meaningful to me was how much fun I had running that distance and the thrill I had meeting my goal.  Now all of the confidence has come back and I feel a fire inside.  It’s a good feeling.  But isn’t this true of any challenging goal—not just running? 

I signed up for the California International Marathon in Sacramento on December 8, 2013.  Yes, it’s a fast course and many people qualify for Boston on that course.  So, I’m wigged out.  I had made a promise to myself that I would go support the 2014 Boston Marathon, whether I run it or not.  I know it will be hard to qualify for 2014—just meeting the qualifying time won’t cut it.  Talk about a challenging goal…  Will one more marathon turn out to be two more marathons?  Maybe…we’ll see. 

Note:    My book, Breaking Barriers, will be published in 2013.  Email me at dolores@breakingbarriersblog.com if you are interested in being included on the email list.  “No, sheer effort is not the key to getting what we want.  It’s much easier than that.  Yes—easier.”   

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On marathon day, I was out of bed at 4am.  Arne was dead asleep as I readied myself for the big marathon.  The familiar butterflies fluttered endlessly in my stomach but I knew I was ready to run.  I double-checked my belongings; water bottle, glide, throw away warm-up clothes, race number—did I forget anything? 

I had laid the morning plan out carefully with Kimm the day before.  I planned to meet him and his friend, Steve, in the lobby of Kimm’s hotel, The Standard.  Kimm suggested we take a taxi instead of the bus transportation provided by the marathon organizers.  That would allow us another hour of sleep.  He got no argument from me. 

I rushed out of the hotel and took a cab to The Standard.  I shivered, glad to have the extra clothes on over my running shorts.  The temperature was a brisk 39 degrees that November day but expected to warm to the low 50’s.  Kimm was in the lobby when I arrived.  “Hey Dolores!”  He waved beaming.  “Steve is on his way.”

“Hi Kimm.”  We hugged briefly.  “This is exciting!” 

Steve walked up, a tall man with graying hair and sparkling eyes.  “You must be Dolores.  Nice to meet you.”  He took a big drink from his quart sized water bottle. 

We shook hands.  “Hi Steve.”

Kimm waved to us as he walked to the lobby door.  “We need to get going.”    

We climbed into a cab, Kimm, in front with the driver, and Steve and I in the backseat.  Off we went towards the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  We were going to drive across the bridge to the start of the marathon.  Then we would run back over the bridge towards Brooklyn.  When we got closer to the bridge, it was obvious our plan of taking a taxi was shared by many people.  There were 32,000 runners running the New York City Marathon that day and I think all of them were in line to cross the Verrazano Narrows Bridge that morning.  We inched along. 

I shivered, not because I was cold, but because I knew we were we in danger of not being able to cross the bridge to start the marathon.  If we didn’t get onto the bridge soon, the bridge would be closed and we would miss the start.  I clutched my water bottle, too nervous to drink, but Steve had drunk most of his water already. 

We finally got to the bridge and I let out a big breath.  I must have been holding it.  Now we just needed to be patient, we would get there eventually.  But before I could relax, another immediate problem presented itself.  Steve started complaining about his need to relieve himself.  At first it was jokes, but thirty minutes later, he was dead serious.  “Hey guys, I have got to go!  I’m not kidding!”  But we were stuck in the middle of the bridge going nowhere. 

Kimm wasn’t sympathetic.  “Just hang it out the window Steve.”  He didn’t even try to hide his smirk.

Sitting in back with him, I saw Steve’s grimace.  I remained silent.  I didn’t know what to say.  Steve looked me dead in the eyes and I could feel his pain.  “Dolores, I’m going to pee into my water bottle.” 

Oh wow…poor guy.  I tried hard to keep a straight face as I stifled a nervous laugh.  My first thought?  He was lucky he was a man.  “Tell you what Steve.”  I tried to make my voice as nonchalant as I could.  “I’ll just look out the side window and you can tell me when you’re done.  No big deal.”   I saw the cab driver, who had been silent since we piled into the cab, break into a big smile.  I looked the other way out to the endless traffic jam. 

Now, Steve was a tall guy, big boned.  Okay, I admit, I wanted to look but, it was, well, gross when I heard him start peeing into that bottle.  I think I stared into that sea of traffic for over two minutes—the longest two minutes of my life.  Was that bottle going to be big enough?

Steve let out a huge sigh.   “Oh yes, that’s much better.  You can look now.”  He had put the bottle filled with, well, recycled water, under the seat.  Yep, the quart sized bottle was full.  “Much better.”  Steve relaxed and laid his head on the back of the car seat.  “Wow Dolores, you’re not a woman, you’re a runner!”

I smiled.  “Thanks Steve.”  I took that as a major complement.  I was now one of the guys—like a rite of passage—or should I say pee passage.      

When we finally made it over the bridge, we rushed out of the cab to a flurry of runners everywhere—leaving the bottle of pee for the cab driver to deal with.  I don’t think the cab driver was going to be laughing when his next passenger found that bottle. 

The line-up process for the marathon had already started.  Runners were asked to line-up according to projected finish time—the faster times were starting before the slower times.  Thank goodness I didn’t need to, um pee, there wasn’t time.  We only had 10 minutes to get in line. 

Note:    My book, Breaking Barriers, will be published in 2013.  Email me at dolores@breakingbarriersblog.com if you want to be included on the email list.  “No, sheer effort is not the key to getting what we want.  It’s much easier than that.  Yes—easier.”

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Picking up my number for the first time.

How can I express how sad and horrified I was at the bombings at the Boston Marathon?  I couldn’t take my eyes off the television all day.  I felt like I was there—my spirit was there.  Just last year I ran in Boston but it seems like yesterday. 

The Boston Marathon is a symbol of excellence and pride.  I worked hard, really hard for 10 years to qualify and I finally made it in 2009.  My first trip to Boston was like being in a fairy tale.  The energy of the city was electric and the bright yellow shirts were everywhere.  I met people from all over the country and the world.  When I visited the expo and picked up my race number, I felt like I was about to run in the Olympics. 

The weather was perfect that year.  I was amazed at the crowd support, especially the college girls offering kisses to the runners!  Even experiencing Heartbreak Hill was a thrill.  To top off a perfect experience, I ran a personal record at Boston.  I was 54 years old.  Talk about being ecstatic. 

The poster is proudly framed in my living room with the caption “Greatness goes by many, many names.”  When I discovered my name was written on that poster— I felt a sense of great pride.  I made it—a dream come true. 

My second trip to Boston was last year, 2012.  It was not so perfect but it was wonderful none the less.  With temperatures reaching to 90 degrees on some parts of the course, I did not run a PR—I ran a PW.  Again, I was amazed at the phenomenal crowd support to those of us struggling along the course.   I wouldn’t have made it without them.   I finished and I took pride in that. 

This year when I saw the bombs explode and the carnage that was left behind, I cried.  A dream turned into a nightmare.  Who would have ever thought that the Boston Marathon would become a war zone?

But isn’t it tragedy and hardship that makes us stronger?  Of course, Boston will come back stronger than ever.  There is a spirit and a pride that terrorism will not destroy. Boston Marathon runners are a tough group.  They will be back.  I believe the Boston crowds will be back to support this historic marathon.  If I don’t run next year, I’ll be there in the crowd cheering.  The Boston dream is alive and well.  Boston, here I come!

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The beer garden after the race

The air was filled with the sound of firecrackers and smoke as Wendy, Paul and I stood on the starting line of the L.A. Chinatown Firecracker 10K—the 10K that celebrates the new Chinese New Year.  This year, February 10 officially started The Year of the Snake.  I loved the air of celebration and looked forward to the beer garden at the end—a great finish prize after a hard run. 

I ran in place to loosen up a little.  I’d run that course the last two years and knew after a mile of flat,  I’d being going uphill for about three miles before coming back down in the second half.  I didn’t have a chance to warm up—too crowded.  So I knew the first mile would be my warm-up mile, nice and slow.  I felt strong, though.   The best I’ve felt since I took the two months off from running last September and October to heal my hamstring and glut muscles.  Coming back was much harder than I anticipated, but I’m glad I didn’t get discouraged.  When I read about the Year of the Snake, I realized, well, there’s a lesson there.

According to my research, “this 2013 year of Snake is meant for steady progress and attention to detail. Focus and discipline will be necessary for you to achieve what you set out to create.”  Isn’t this true, not only for our running goals this year, but for any goal we set.  My recovery has been slow, albeit steady, and it took focus and discipline.  When I stood on that starting line, I didn’t fear the three miles of hills in my near future.  I decided to just go with the flow.  At least I was there—at the starting line. 

My intuition that morning served me well.  After a slow and steady first mile, about an 11 minute per mile pace, I was strong up the hills and picked up the pace dramatically downhill.  I crossed the finish line in 55:52 at an average pace of 8:59/M.  I placed 5^th out of 60 women in my age group 55-59.  I was pleased, not so much at coming in 5^th, which is great, but because I ran strong.   Focus and discipline—two factors important in achieving your goals.

Ah, the beer garden after the race was flowing with beer and wine.  Running road races are great—aren’t they?  Next we’ll be running the Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon in May.  Why?  Well, there’s a wine garden at the end!

Note:    My book, Breaking Barriers, will be published in 2013.  Email me at dolores@breakingbarriersblog.com if you are interested in being included on the email list.  “No, sheer effort is not the key to getting what we want.  It’s much easier than that.  Yes—easier.”   

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I heard a phrase uttered among many marathon participants after the Boston Marathon last Monday.   “I ran a PW.”  Yep, I also ran a PW last Monday.  You guessed it—personal worst.  This marathon tested even the fittest of runners.  It was hot—really hot—record-breaking heat which was reported to reach 90 degrees in parts of Boston.  Some 4,000 runners deferred their entry to the following year, but I didn’t—no, not me.  I trained hard and I was determined to run.

I was seeded into the third wave in corral two, so I started just a minute or two behind corral one which was the first group that took off first when the gun sounded at 10:40am—as the sun was bright and bearing down on us.   A wonderful day if you were going to the beach.

Wave three took off in Hopkinton.  Since this was my second Boston, I knew what to expect and I glided through the first three miles which were mostly downhill.  It was at mile three that I realized I was not going to glide through the rest of the marathon.  I slowed down.  I had started drinking Gatorade and water at the second mile water station and apparently I gulped too fast because at mile 10 I got a bad cramp on my left side.  I had to walk at mile 10—mile 10.  I remember thinking I had 16 miles to go including the Newton hills and it was already really hot.

I decided I would not think about how far I had to go.  I would just take it mile by mile.  Once I rubbed out the cramp, as best I could, I started to run until I felt like I was going to overheat and then I walked to cool off.  I started taking my time at the water stations.  I followed this pattern the rest of the marathon.  I was concerned about my brother Danny and his wife Amy (who came to Boston to support me) and the other friends and family who were tracking my progress through text alert messages or on the website.  Were they thinking I was dead somewhere on the course due to heat exhaustion?  They knew I was too stubborn to quit.  I was dropping further and further behind my projected finish time.  I wished I had brought more Advil with me, because my feet hurt, my back hurt, my head hurt…you get the idea.  I really didn’t think I’d be out on the course for such a long, long time…

The crowd support was phenomenal.  They set up extra water stations along the course which came in handy in the final miles.  Many people took out their water hoses and created sprinklers for the runners.  People were offering lots of ice on the course and orange slices.  There were plenty of high-fives for those of us who were walking.  The BAA set up water tunnels along the course which I took advantage of.  I worked hard at cooling myself off every chance I got.

When I finally got to mile 25, I allowed myself to think about the end—only one mile to go.  I wanted to run the final mile.  I picked up the pace to a blistering 12 minute mile pace.  When I turned the corner and saw the finish line about a half mile away, I was inspired enough to run to the finish—it was the longest half-mile I had ever run but I finished!! !  I know many, many runners did not finish.  Okay, it was my PW by far (5:26) after 15 marathons but I finished.  What is amazing is that I ran a PR (personal record) at my first Boston Marathon in 2009 (3:53).  But, somehow, I think I will treasure this finisher’s medal even more than the first one—it certainly took more effort.

Congratulations to all of the Boston runners who braved the course and kudos to the wonderful people of Boston who supported the runners and the Boston Athletic Association for organizing a well-run marathon.  Thank you, Danny and Amy, for your support and encouragement.  Enjoy those cow bells!

Anything can happen in a marathon—just as in life.  As I have said before, the pain doesn’t seem so bad—now that it is a memory.

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The Boston Marathon is only eight days away.  The training is over.  It was an exciting, grueling, devastating, and worthwhile adventure.  I sometimes wondered if the day would ever come.  But it is almost here.

Six months ago when I started training, I was excited and energetic.  After all, I was training to realize my life-long dream for the second time.  At 90 days out, the real training kicked in and the grit and determination kicked in as well.  When the mileage got tougher six weeks out (55 to 60 miles per week), I questioned my sanity but kept pushing forward.  I finally made it to the taper two weeks ago and with the decreased mileage, I now have my energy back and the confidence that I can go the distance on April 16.

This is my 15^th marathon and I can rely on my experience to either help me or hinder me on race day.  On the positive side, I know what to expect.  On the negative side, I know what to expect.  Anything can happen during a 26 mile run.  Much depends on your level of confidence and the effort you gave to your training.  If you did the training, the marathon will take care of itself (assuming you don’t go out too fast).

From my previous experience of hitting “the wall” so many times (that elusive barrier which can crop up anywhere from 18 to 24 miles when your body will run no further), I know to pace myself at the start of the marathon.  I also know to not be a slave to my GPS, I need to run how I feel—I have always run stronger that way.  I have also learned that running fast is not as important as running strong.

Boston is an exciting city at marathon time and the energy is electric.  Since this is my second time I know how to negotiate the excellent train system and to go to the north end for a great pasta dinner.  The crowds lining the course will be enthusiastic and supportive and, once past Heartbreak Hill (right past mile 20), the course is mostly downhill to the finish.  It’s a challenging course, but I ran a personal record when I ran it the first time in April 2009—at the age of 54.  A great memory, but I will not pressure myself.  I will do the best I can.

I can see the finish line and I can see the big smile on my face when I pass it—strong.  Boston—here I come!

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It is three months until the Boston Marathon on April 16^th.  Now the real marathon training begins.  It is also now that I start to question my sanity!  My long run is up to 17 miles and my weekly mileage up to 50.  I will strive to reach a peak of 60 miles for the week with my longest run at 22 miles.  I will peak three weeks before the marathon and then enjoy a glorious taper to race day.

I ran the Southern California Half Marathon on January 7^th in Irvine, California.  I was looking forward to a good race—I was ready.  Since I live less than 10 minutes from the start, I gave myself just long enough to get to the start, find a place to park and trot up to the start line.  I must admit I’m not a morning person—my brain just doesn’t kick in until I’ve been up for a while.  I got most of the way to the start and realized that I had dutifully attached the chip to my shoe but I had not attached the race number to my shirt.  I thought for a second about running without my number, but I didn’t want any issues on the course so I turned around and went back home.

That, of course, blew my timeline.  Now I was rushing.  I returned home retrieved my number and rushed back to the race.  I got to the parking area and realized that this was a BIG race.  By the time I found a place to park, I was thinking I should have just run from home.

I missed the start of the half marathon.  No big deal.  I had a chip and I knew the time didn’t start until I crossed the starting line.  But I soon found out—starting at the back was not conducive to a fast time.

I was happy to see Students Run LA participating in the event—but I was not happy to be behind them.  There were thousands of them and they were all in front of me having a great time.  This is a group that inspires at-risk youth to achieve their dreams through a life-transforming experience—training for and running the LA Marathon.  I agree—completing a marathon is a life-changing experience.  To see 7^th to 12^th grade kids out there running was awesome—but I was cussing them that day.

The half marathon course started on the streets of Irvine and converged onto the bike path along the river bed.  It was a nice scenic course but imagine thousands of people (kids) converging from a street to an asphalt trail.

I did my best to get around the mass of runners but by the time I pushed and shoved my way through the crowd I was five miles into the race and had expended precious energy.  But despite the challenges, I did okay.  My time was 1:56:52—about 3 minutes slower than my personal record.  I came in 8^th in my age group of 35.  I am proud to report that the winner of the 55-59 women’s group was Elaine Rutkowski from Laguna Niguel.  She finished in 1:36:57.  She averaged a 7 minute, 24 second mile pace (that’s fast).  She was the 23^rd woman to cross the finish line overall.  She beat the top finisher in the women’s 45-49 age group who averaged a 7 minute, 26 second per mile pace and came in 28^th overall.  Way to go Elaine!

The half marathon signified a step closer to running the Boston Marathon.  I am smiling as I think about it.  There is still a part of me that is amazed at this accomplishment in my fifties.  My life, as with running, is continuing to transform for the better.  The best is yet to come!

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I was disappointed with my finish at the Surf City 10 miler last Sunday.  Since I am officially training for Boston in April 2012, I know I am being extra critical of myself.  Do you ever do that?   Well, I excel at self-criticism, so this gives me an opportunity to practice at looking at the “glass half full.”

I got to run a beautiful course in Huntington Beach, California along the ocean and even though the wind kicked up and it started to rain at mile six, the weather cooperated for most of the race.  I’ve been suffering from a hamstring pull and I have taken two doses of a three-week remedy prescribed by my homeopathic doctor which is allowing me to continue to run without taking time off—that’s amazing.  I had an opportunity to do an important training race to build up speed at just the right time in my training.

Okay, my goal was to run 8:30 or 8:35 minute miles.  I accomplished that goal up to mile seven and then lost it.  My final time was 1:31:00.  So I averaged 9:05 minute miles.  There were 121 women in my age group and I came in 6^th.  That’s not bad!

My next training race is scheduled for January 7^th—the Southern California Half Marathon.  The last time I ran a half marathon on May 2, 2010, I ran 1:50:21 and came in third in my age group.   Okay, the challenge is on!

The point is—I am training for Boston.  That is a dream come true.  Whether I run it fast or slow, I will complete my dream race for the second time in my life.  Life is good.

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