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Month: November 2013

Bay bound

Bay bound

If you know me personally or have read any of my tweets, posts here, or Dailymile entries within the past few months, and especially, the past few weeks, you’ll know that major life changes are underfoot and that I’ve felt pretty emotionally volatile and vulnerable—totally attractive combination, btw—as a result.

Don’t know what I’m talking about? The short of it is that my husband got an incredible career opportunity, and we decided to take it, even though it necessitates a cross-country move to the Bay Area. We recently sold our condo here and in about a month’s time, my daughter and I will join my husband out west.

Hello, San Jose
Hello, San Jose

I’ve ridden some hard highs and some low lows about this. For a while, probably the first 4-6 weeks, it was just there. I knew it was going to happen, but without knowing when we’d move (because my daughter and I wouldn’t join him out west until we sold), I didn’t pay the pending reality any mind. With marathon training for Chicago and NYC, and teaching this quarter, I think I had very little mental real estate to devote to thinking about The Big M(ove). It would happen when it would happen.

Welcome to the land of Erin denial, folks.

Once we sold, about 10 days ago, the reality obviously started to hit me significantly harder—but in ways I wouldn’t expect. Signing the real estate sale paperwork was purely transactional and numbing. Sending the ‘update on moving west’ email to my close friends and family though, where I apprised everyone of our sale, took me exponentially longer to write than it should have, in no small part because I had to stop writing nearly every paragraph to bawl (not kidding) and then tend to my daughter, since mommy’s crying had awoken her from her sleep that night (the mother of the year nominations are surely flooding the committee’s office for that one).

I wake her up at night, but then she takes my spot in bed. It all evens out.
I wake her up at night, but then she takes my spot in bed. It all evens out.

I’m finding that when I begin to think of my relationship with this city, the city I’ve called home since I was 18 years old (and thus, for basically all of my adult life), I quickly realize that I’ve made this city such a huge part of who I am—for better or for worse—and the thought of splitting from her leaves me feeling hella scared, nervous, and entirely, totally, 100% vulnerable, in a way I haven’t been in over a decade.

The unknown is scary, folks. Rationally, it’s not, but emotionally? Viscerally? Damn near terrifying.

However, the more I begin to think “rationally” about the move—since rationally, I’m 100% on board with it; it’s the emotional aspect that’s making me falter—I am quickly realizing that I need to take a page from my marathon training and racing experience.

The metaphor might be tenuous at best, but the applicability is very much there.

When I trained for my first marathon back in 2007, I had no fuckin’ idea what I was getting myself into. I was incredibly excited about the prospect and super eager to see if I could run a marathon at all (because normal people can’t run marathons, right??). Though I had an amazing support system and an incredible group of teammates, many of whom had run many a mary, I was blissfully and mildly oblivious about the effort before me. I mean, I knew it’d be work, but…

I full-body JUMPED into the marathon training process, under good guidance and coaching, and with as much information as I could gather when left to my own devices, and it was an amazing experience and, obviously, something that has profoundly changed my life.

It would be in my best interests to do the same with The Big M.

I need to full-body submerge myself in the move, the next chapter of my life, without looking back, without wondering what if I can’t do this or what if I’m alone or what if it sucks or what if I never find X or whatever.

I won’t have answers to any of those trepidations unless and—more importantly—until I try.

And this is so very, very much the same in the business of marathon training and racing.

I always link to Matt’s article about burning your effin boats when it comes time to goal-set, and while starting completely anew in the Bay isn’t exactly a goal of mine, per se, it is nevertheless presenting me with an amazing opportunity, once I begin to think about it in those terms. Starting fresh in a new city, with a new group of people, in a place where I have no history behind me and no ‘destiny’ before me, is something that many people would love to have, and it’s in my best interests to capitalize on this. I mean… duh, Erin.

I am lucky to personally know exactly 3 people—all runners—who live in SF proper, but otherwise, the Bay is all new territory for me.

The tremendous opportunity that comes with a clean slate is something that I’m just now fully beginning to realize, since I haven’t been in this position for the past, oh, 12 years.

This is a time to try new things—run new races, run other distances, run with other groups of people, to really truly go outside my comfort zone, making myself vulnerable in the process, and just see what the hell happens. Matt (I am such a fangirl) recently had a fantastic post about setting really enormous and huge and scary goals, beyond just setting your boats ablaze, and I totally have one.

Told you, total fangirl. With Matt at the Chicago Diner in Logan Square, post-Chicago Marathon. (Matt's pic, taken from http://www.nomeatathlete.com/book-tour-recap/). :)
Told you, total fangirl. With Matt at the Chicago Diner in Logan Square, post-Chicago Marathon. (Matt’s pic, taken from http://www.nomeatathlete.com/book-tour-recap/). 🙂

Perhaps I laid the foundation here in Chicago, since this is where I was when I articulated it, but the work, the intentionality, will begin in the Bay.

Where it’ll end, where the goal will manifest, remains to be seen… but it’ll begin in the Bay.

I’m a huge proponent of running and racing (and living…?) without regrets, and what better way to put this ideology into action than in the newest installment of my life’s story.

And in the really strange timing department, in the late summer, months before any of this move stuff transpired, on a whim, I decided to apply to be a social media ambassador for the San Francisco Marathon, which I had run in 2010, freshly and unknowingly pregnant. I have always raved about how cool the race was and how it’d be one I’d actually run again, in no small part because I wanted to run it non-pregnant (and because my training that summer was sub-sub-par). My memory has failed me, so I can’t recount exactly what I wrote in my application—something about running postpartum, I think?–but I’m in. I’m now part of the group of “social media ambassadors” for a race in my new hometown (or home area, anyway). In the process, I’m “meeting” lots of Bay Area runners and, consequently, beginning to learn about some of the area’s best running groups, clubs, trails, races, and the like.

Boom. In. I should have edited the irrelevant stuff from the pic. Oops.
Boom. In. I should have edited the irrelevant stuff from the pic. Oops.

I took a chance, albeit a low-risk chance, and somehow, not only did the chance work out in my favor, but it also has already connected me to a community of runners who’ll surely help me find my bearings and who, I hope, will be my fast friends. I am genuinely excited to meet this group of people over the next few months, to support each other’s training efforts and goals, much as I do currently and will continue to do for my Chicago-based running family, Bootleggers or otherwise, and though I will be making the Chicago-Bay Area move with very mixed emotions, I am finding peace in knowing that I already have a handful of semi-perfect run strangers with whom I can rundezvous.

Though I can’t yet say I’m excited or even really looking forward to the move, I am intrigued to see what will happen in the next chapter of my (running) life.

The move isn’t a goal that I set for myself, nor is it necessarily a risk that I would emotionally throw myself into taking; however, that it was given to me, and that I fully support it, shows me that I am more ready for it than I realize.

As in running, sometimes the biggest risk is in stagnation.

Remove the comfort, dispose of the familiar, kick out the crutches beneath you, and see what the hell happens.

Happy Thanksgiving, run family.

ING NYC Marathon 2013, pt 4: the non-race

ING NYC Marathon 2013, pt 4: the non-race

I’ve been doing this blogging thing off and on for a while now, and I’ve written some blog entries about marathons I’ve done that have spanned a over a couple entries, but I don’t think I’ve ever written a 4-part series like I have for NYC. Perhaps it is overkill, but honestly, given everything that went into making NYC what it was, though, it seems appropriate for me to shine a spotlight on it, if for no other reason than to help me remember what a cool weekend and race experience it was.

By this point in the game, though, I’ve already talked in pretty exhaustive detail about my strategy, the race experience, and the numbers behind the race, so this post, the last (I think) in the NYC series, will focus on all the other stuff that helped make the weekend so memorable.

I guess an interesting place to begin this recollection is a confession: I really wasn’t particularly looking forward to running NYC–not this year, not ever.

On a fluke in 2009, I had applied to the lottery and got in on my first go but decided to defer because I had committed to other fall races that year (Akron, Marine Corps). Stupid me misunderstood the whole deferral process and didn’t realize I’d end up paying twice to run the race once. Then, in 2012, after PRing in a half at a 1:35 and then, six days later, a 1:33, my good friend David told me that I should do NYC because I’d be guaranteed entry by way of the qualification standards (that have since been tightened to a sub-1:30 half for women my age), and I thought ‘what the hell.’  Then, of course, Superstorm Sandy hit last year, and all the fall-out happened because of the way the NYRR handled (or didn’t, depending on your source) the race, so by now, in 2013, I had essentially paid over $600 to run NYC once.

That is a HELL of an expensive marathon, folks.

Like I said earlier, though, it wasn’t until after I ran Chicago ’13 and began to feel like I had pretty much recovered from it that I thought maybe I’d see what I still had left in the tank and go for gold in NYC. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Once I got to that point, I was just excited about the race–not nervous, not anticipating, just excited.

On my flight out Thursday night (Halloween), I quickly met other runners–easy to do when you’re wearing running tights at an airport, folks!–which was a cool way to begin the NYC experience (though, word to the wise: tread cautiously when interacting with male runners when their SO is present. Wow, did the lasers from that woman’s eyes sting. Good grief…). Friday mid-day, I leisurely made my way over to the expo to meet-up with Corey and Lynton and partake in all the expo goodness. Along the way, I had the pleasure of chatting with a NYCM expo volunteer for a good twenty minutes, and her energy was simply infectious. I thanked her relentlessly for taking time out of her life to help at the marathon–I’m sure she thought I was crazy when I said that–but the funny thing was that she thanked me for coming to run in her city.

Funny how that works.

Exploring the expo with Corey and Lynton was fun–these things are always funner with another–and shortly after they split, David arrived, so he and I met up for enough time to get a quick picture and try to arrange logistics to meet at the SI ferry Sunday morning (which, spoiler, never happened).

at the expo with Corey and Lynton. the self-imposed spacing between us cracks me up. also, I look incredibly short next to those two...??
at the expo with Corey and Lynton. the self-imposed spacing between us cracks me up. also, I look incredibly short next to those two…??
been runnin' with this guy since '09!
been runnin’ with this guy since ’09!
Reppin' BRC at the expo
Reppin’ BRC at the expo

An uneventful Friday night (grading… wish I were kidding here) was probably one of the better choices I made all weekend. Saturday morning, Lynton ventured up to the Upper East Side, where I was staying with Willa Rose, a friend of a friend, and he and I made our way over to Central Park for a four-mile (or four mile & change) shake-out, where we got caught up in the NYRR’s Dash to the Finish 5k. Shortly after we got into Central Park, we were running the marathon course–very cool–so naturally, I had to risk getting run over by a bunch of 8:30-9 minute/mi 5kers so I could take sub-par pictures of the mile markers. They were on banners over the roads, people! And, strangely enough, during our shake-out, we managed to run into Chanthana, another Chicago runner, who had come into town to cheer at the marathon. Such a small world.

in the shakeout, right before we jumped in with the 5k
in the shakeout, right before we jumped in with the 5k
Hello, mile 26 signage!
Hello, mile 26 signage!

After a delish breakfast with Lynton, we split so he could go on his Marathon in a Motorcoach bus tour and so I could make my way down to Brooklyn, to Williamsburg, to see my girl Leanne, whom I had stayed with last year. We met when we were RAs at DePaul in 2003, and she has to be one of my favorite people ever–just a super classy, super passionate, mega vegan all-star sweetheart of a person. She had invited some other Chicago friends of hers, who were also in town for the marathon, and me to meet her in Willamsburg at Dunwell Donuts, a vegan donut shop, for a late afternoon snack and to catch up. It was a blast seeing her and meeting these other Chicago vegan runners, and bonus! I got my new Vaute Couture coat from the maker/owner/creative director/founder herself, my girl, Leanne 😉

hello, beautiful and delicious vegan goodness
hello, beautiful and delicious vegan goodness- thanks for the pics, Leanne! xo
vegan love at Dunwell Doughnuts
vegan love at Dunwell Doughnuts, with Mr. Dunwell owner himself (Dave) between Leanne and me. Vegan entrepreneurs, FTW!

Lots of vegan deliciousness later, I hauled back to the Upper East Side to drop off and pick-up some personal effects before meeting Lynton and the rest of the Bootlegger gang at Angelo’s in Little Italy. Along the way, I somehow managed to get a bus all to myself for a while, which resulted in some fantastic banter with the incredibly nice driver. Seriously, this driver couldn’t have been cooler; I’m pretty sure there were invitations of post-marathon partying flying around, haha (ed. note: stop being so trusting…). Once I got to Angelo’s, having dinner with many folks in the BRC gang was a blast, and hey, I got a tutorial on what Tinder was and apparently (and accidentally) proved my photoshop prowess 😉

Bootlegger dinner in Little Italy!
Bootlegger dinner in Little Italy!

As far as race eves go, this was a pretty fantastic one. I wasn’t feeling especially nervous about the race, but more than anything, my face actually kinda hurt because I had been smiling so much. Yeah, it was that kind of awesome 🙂

Sunday morning, the race experience? Simply unmatchable. Totally amazing and wonderful and, at least right now, probably my favorite race to date.

Immediately after the race, marathon stinky funkiness and all, Lynton and I met up with another bootlegger, Colin, my San Diego Yogger relay captain from the summer, who had FREAKIN’ RUN SUB-3 IN HIS SECOND GO AT THE MARATHON DISTANCE, and his wife, Stephanie, before the rest of the BRC gang arrived. Again, being with other teammates or training buddies immediately after the race was so uplifting because they could totally identify with the experience that day. It’s a feeling that’s hard to convey, but suffice it to say that I loved being hundreds of miles away from home yet feeling like I was just at some bar in Chicago with some of my runner friends, and this feeling of utter elation just magnified once David and the rest of the BRC gang arrived–Lee Ann, LeeAnn, and others whose names totally escape me right now. We all partook in the obligatory libations and bar food consumption (which, actually, wasn’t bad) and celebrated each other’s victories–PRs, BQs–and commiserated over similar experiences on the course–not starting in the correct wave, hitting a wall of humanity, that sort of thing.

Celebrating with David
Celebrating with David. Yup, my name is still on my arm in Sharpie, and yes, I need to clean my phone camera…
you don't want to know, but I can't not smile for shit
you don’t want to know, but I can’t not smile for shit
makes my heart hurt a little. so.sweet.
makes my heart hurt a little. so.sweet.
rounds of Jameson post-marathon... ouch. burnnnnnnn.
rounds of Jameson post-marathon… ouch. burnnnnnnn.

 

BRC, baby!
BRC, baby!

After several hours in Manhattan celebrating another marathon milestone, we split ways, and late at night, around midnight or so, when I was damn near operating on fumes, my hostess, Willa, her roommate, and I heralded in another decade of my life–hello, 30s!–with rum and cokes and vegan donuts. (Apparently, it’s like an unspoken thing that I only stay with vegans in NYC. Noted.).

Taken after being awake for a million years the day of the marathon. We're hot.
Taken after being awake for a million years the day of the marathon; Willa had also been awake since about 4 a.m. We’re hot.
this is 30. Notice the birthday candle in the doughnut.
this is 30. Notice the birthday candle in the doughnut.

Somehow, it didn’t matter that I had a 6:20 a.m. flight Monday to get back to Chicago in time to teach my first class at 10:10 because I didn’t want to miss a nanosecond of anything when I was in NYC. It’s one thing to just run a race and to run it poorly or well; it’s such a different thing, though, to make an experience out of it.

At the luggage carousel at Midway, trying not to fall asleep
At the luggage carousel at Midway, trying not to fall asleep

By the time the marathon rolled around on Sunday morning, I was already completely satisfied with my time in NYC, and I think I had even told Corey as much on the bus and ferry rides out to Staten Island. That I could, and did, have such a positive racing experience in addition to the amazing weekend I had catching up with old friends and cultivating new friendships was just incredible.

Absolutely, completely, incredible.

And something for which I am so genuinely grateful that I can’t even talk honestly about my race without talking about all these other components that made my NYCM weekend about so much more than how well I covered 26.2.

After doing 21 of these things since 2007, I’m beginning to learn that the best races I have–including Houston, Eugene, and Chicago from this year alone–are the ones where I realize that it’s about much more than a race. Sure, I want to race well after training for months and after ‘practice’ running hundreds of miles so I can run 26.2 efficiently and intelligently in one go, but this whole marathoning thing has become so much more to me than that.

It’s so weird to admit that now, because I can promise you I don’t think of it in those terms when I’m getting my ass handed to me during a grueling workout, but it has become damn near gospel for me.

At the end of the day, the race, itself, is but a strand in the quilt, and in the case of the NYC quilt, it was a quilt that was years in the making.