Friday, December 22, 2017

California International Marathon - 2017

Those of you that have been following my blog know that I was hit by a truck while riding my bike on September 30th of this year. This event happened about nine weeks into my training for the California International Marathon. I was devastated. This was going to be my year to finally qualify for Boston. I was also looking for a little redemption after last year's less than ideal performance.

Besides my own plans for running CIM, I had convinced my daughter, Ashley, to sign up and race with me. My sister and her hubby also signed up for 2017. In August, HS signed up for the race as too. Then I got hit by the old, nearly blind, farmer.

HS quit training. He was afraid it would upset me if I saw him leaving the house to go for a run. The rest of my family pretty much gave up training too thinking that I was not going to do the race. At my first appointment with my regular doctor I asked when I was going to be able to run again. At that point, it had only been a week since the accident and she advised me to keep my activity to walking.

My next appointment was nearly a week and a half later. At that point, my doctor referred me to a surgeon to drain the huge hematoma on my backside. After the procedure I asked the surgeon if I could run. He advised me to keep my activity to low impact stuff like swimming and cycling (Seriously!). At least I could officially climb onto my trainer and pedal around Watopia.

My next appointment was scheduled Monday, November 13. The deferral deadline for CIM was November 10. I was going to have to gamble that the surgeon would give me the OK to run. Thankfully, the doctor said it was OK to run again and added that I should stop if anything hurt. No worries there...I can't really feel anything in the injured area anyway. I resumed training. I had lost a lot of time and hoped that my hours on the trainer would pay off.

Pre-Race

We headed up to Sacramento early Saturday morning. Since we had Zoe with us, I figured we would park and then take turns going into the convention center to pick up our packets. However, when we neared the convention center, HS said he would drop me off and circle the block. I said OK.

I hopped out of the truck at the red light and walked quickly to the convention center. Once inside, I maneuvered around the people taking their time. I was on a mission, pick up my bib, get my shirt, get my 5-year stuff and get back outside.  Packet, shirt, 5 year cup and pin...back on the sidewalk waiting for HS. Definitely not as fun as walking around all the exhibits but at least it cut down on my time on my feet. When HS stopped to pick me up, I asked if he wanted to run in and get his stuff. He said he didn't want his shirt because he was not racing.

Once again, Lindsey and Max welcomed us into their home and gave up their bed so I could get a good night's sleep before the race. Zoe wore herself our playing with Rocco and crashed on the floor next to the bed. I had a restless night sprinkled with nightmares of showing up late to the start. I was relieved when my alarm went off. I could finally get up and get the day started. I had a big task ahead of me and I just wanted to get through it.

As I rolled out of bed, I noticed a tightness in my lower back that I hadn't felt before. Great! That's all I needed today. I got dressed, had some coffee and instant oatmeal for breakfast, and then tried to loosen up my back a bit. I was more nervous than I have ever felt before a race.   HS got dressed but I told him that I was just going to have Lindsey drop me off at the shuttle and that he didn't need to go. I was getting emotional as it was, and having him drop me off probably would have opened the flood gates.

In the past, I've fretted about getting to the start early. This time, I wasn't in that big of a hurry to go stand in the cold by myself. Lindsey dropped me off a little after 6:00am and I walked to the line for the shuttle. Within a couple of minutes, I was seated on a Folsom-Cordova school bus chugging up the hill to the start. The driver made a couple of turns then a tight squeeze into a neighborhood. It seemed vaguely familiar, so I wasn't worried.

Some of the other runners were a little more concerned about our location. They started Googling directions to the start and then called out turns to the driver. I sort of chuckled to myself. We aren't lost people. The navigators continued "Right turn! Turn right at the next corner!" As the bus rounded the corner the line of porta-potties could be seen. The driver stopped the bus and announced that we were welcome to stay on the bus as long as we wanted. Most of the runners exited. There was still over half an hour before the start. I kept my butt in the seat.

Eventually there were just two of us on the bus so I got up to go to the bathroom one last time. The remaining runner got up and left too. The line at the outhouse wasn't too long, but seemed to slow as we got nearer to start time. By then I knew I really needed to go, so I waited. Thankfully, I was done and walking to the start line with 10 minutes to spare.

Wrapped in my mylar blanket from last year, I eased my way towards the 4:00 pace group and then hung back a bit. Last year I made the mistake of going out way too fast. I wasn't going to do that this year. I also didn't want to start out with my goal pace group of 3:57 because I was afraid that if I couldn't keep up, I would become disheartened and stop trying. My Garmin was programmed with my paces and I planned on following that to the best of my ability.

Race

After the national anthem, the race started. It was a slow walk to the start line. I heard the announcer call out the 3:57 group and then the 4:00 group. The crowd thinned and I started jogging. As soon as I crossed the start line timing mat, I pressed start on my Garmin. Here we go...nothing to lose. This is the first time that I have actually meant it when I told people "I will be happy just to finish."

The first mile of CIM is almost entirely downhill. In the past, I have found it hard not to get caught up in the frenzy and adrenaline and run this mile faster than intended. This year I listened to the warning beeps on my Garmin and slowed down the best that I could. I was still running faster than I planned, but not nearly as fast as I did last year. The first mile always feels so good, it's easy to forget that there are 25 more to go.

The next few miles felt pretty good. The tightness in my lower back eased up and I was getting into a rhythm. Since Lindsey and Max live fairly close to Oak Ave, they were going to walk over with HS and the dogs to cheer me on. I figured that I would be passing them at about 7:30am somewhere around 3-1/2 miles into the race. The thought of seeing them really raised my spirits. As I neared the park where they would be, I kept scanning the sidelines. I moved to the left side of the course so I wouldn't miss them.

My two biggest fans

Eventually I saw HS, Lindsey, Max, Rocco and my big puppy, Zoe. I waved at them and called out Zoe's name. I think there were too many people for Zoe to focus on who was calling her name. At the moment I passed them, Carrie Underwood's "Something in the Water" started playing on my iPod and I let out an audible sob and started to cry. I quickly tried to pull myself together. Who starts crying at mile 3 in a marathon? LOL

Last year I carried a water bottle, but I really didn't find any advantage to carrying something around for 26.2 miles, so I left it at home this year. Instead, I went back to basics and hit the aid stations every three miles for the first half of the race. As long as you pinch the cup at the top, you can still run and get the liquids in your mouth and not down the front of your shirt. During the second half of the race as I started to get a little warm, I started drinking every mile or two.

Somewhere around mile 15, I started to feel my quads. They were beginning to burn. The one thing that my injury really derailed was my hill training. Prior to the accident, I had done quite a bit of running up at our cabin in Arnold. From our cabin, you can go up or you can go down, but flat is not an option. Unfortunately, after I was given the OK to run again, I never incorporated hills back into my training. I think I was afraid that hills would be too much and would aggravate my injury.

My Garmin confirmed that I was still within my desired range, so I kept pushing forward and prayed that my legs would hold out. Aerobically I felt good, so I had that going for me :-) As I neared mile 20, the pain in my legs grew but I noticed that I was still passing people here and there. I did some math in my head and reasoned that as long as I remained in front of the 4:00 group, I would still technically have a qualifying time.

Checking my pace just after the 20 mile marker

My programmed pace for the last 6 miles was a few seconds per mile faster than what I had been running. The plan was to really "race" the last part of the course where it is nice and flat. Unfortunately, I just couldn't find that last gear. My legs were done. It was going to be a mental battle to the finish.

I knew that with less than six miles to go that I would be finished in under an hour. An hour, I reminded myself, is nothing. This race is hopefully going to take less than four hours. IRONMAN Vineman took an additional eight and a half. This is nothing. Each step is one step closer. Just keep going. I was soon within two miles of the finish. Even if I ran the last two miles at a 10:00 minute pace, I was going to be finished in 20 minutes. 20 minutes! That's it. Keep going.

Sometime during the last mile, I thought, "Who cares about Boston? Just walk. Nobody expects anything out of you this year." I imagined a little devil perched on my shoulder whispering negative thoughts into my ear. Where is my little cheerleader angel when I need her? There was only silence. I checked my watch several times a minute trying to make the calculations in my head. My Garmin distance was a bit off of the course markers but I figured I would still make the four hour cut off.

Almost done
Someone called out my name and snapped me back to attention. I looked to my left and saw my family cheering for me. That was all I needed. I knew I was almost there and I wasn't going to disappoint them  by walking the last quarter mile. I rounded the final turn and saw the finish line and ran as fast as my legs would allow.


As soon as I saw HS on the side, I went over to him and gave him a hug and said "I did it." Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn't believe it. Not only did I finish a marathon a little more than two months after being hit but I had finally achieved the elusive Boston Qualifying time that kept me coming back to this course over and over again.

Official time - 3:58:37
Boston Qualifying Time (50-59 Female) - 4:00:00

Congrats from Zoe!

Post Race

For the 2018 Boston Marathon, runners had to be 3 minutes and 23 seconds faster than the qualifying time for their age group. So, although I ran a qualifying time, it is doubtful that I will actually make it into the race. That's OK.

After the race, I really wanted to ring the BQ Bell. The line was huge and my family was less than thrilled about standing around even more just for a photo op. I said we could just go, but they said we could stay. Eventually I made it to the front of the line and I FINALLY got to ring the bell... five years after my first CIM.


Afterward, my brother-in-law bought me a "Boston Qualified" shirt! 


"Boston Qualified"
You would think that this would be the end of my CIM journey. However, as soon as the re-run special was posted, I signed up for 2018...and so did HS. Of course, my sister and brother-in-law are running 2018 since they deferred this year. Looks like it will be a great group. I'm hoping to remain injury free next year so I can run the race fast enough to actually make it to Boston.

#endureandenjoy #Garmin #CIM #marathon




Monday, December 11, 2017

An Open Letter to the Person that Hit Me and Left Me on the Side of the Road

NOTE (12/11/2017): I'm done with all of this. Out of the loop. People speaking for me without talking to me. It's time to move on with my life. Yes, I am mad but I just don't have the energy for this. Nothing I say or do will change anything. Half of my backside is numb and I just have to deal with it...of course, you still have all of the feeling in your body, no scars, no nightmares...enjoy!

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NOTE (12/1/2017): I've been working on this letter for over a month (its now a little more than two months since the hit and run). I shelved this post for a while because it stirred up too many emotions. I feel that now is the time to finish it because I can feel a lot of anger and resentment building up and I just want to get this out once and for all. (Not published at this time).

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To the A-Hole that Hit Me and Left,

First, I would like to ask you if you care that you hit me but I know that’s a stupid question. If you cared, you would have stopped. Your actions answered the question before I even asked it.

So, knowing that you don’t care and that you have no regard for human life, I am writing this letter in hopes that perhaps someone else will read it and think twice about their own actions. Maybe someone will read this and decide that they are going to obey the traffic laws and give cyclists three feet clearance. Maybe someone will read this and they will stop and render aid if they hit a car, pedestrian, or cyclist.


Please note, there were three of us that day that you hit. No, hit is not the right term. There were three of us that you ran into, over, and through. We were riding single file along the white line on the side of the road and ...ONE...by ONE...by ONE ...you took each one of us out in a different and horrifying way. This letter will only discuss the pain and horror you inflicted on me. I will let the other two riders tell their own stories.

The Terror

The last memory I have while still upright on my bike was the sound of gravel and loud sound of cracking. In the split second before you hit me, I did not have time to process that what I was hearing was the sound of your tires driving through the gravel on the side of the road. Yes, the gravel to the right of the white line. Forget about three feet of clearance, I would have given anything to have only had one foot of clearance and not to have you directly behind me. Oh, and the loud cracking I heard, that was my friend’s bike being snapped and broken as you drove over it and him.

That’s the extent of my memory. I was knocked out for a couple of minutes. The next thing I remember is that I am standing up. I was dazed. I looked around to try and get my bearings. I can only say that at that moment I felt as if I had been picked up and dropped in the middle of a horror movie. My two friends were severely injured and laying in the road. There were bikes and parts and gear strewn all over.

There was a gash in my head and blood was running down my face. I thank God that I had the wherewithal to grab my phone and call 9-1-1.  Please note, I did not call for help because I am some sort of hero. I called for help because of the sheer terror you had left me to deal with!

I was alone on a country road with two injured friends and I was scared out of my mind! I needed someone to help us. I should not have had to do this. It was your responsibility to stop and call for help immediately!


The Physical Pain

When you hit me, an artery was torn somewhere in my left buttock. I spent my three days in the hospital cinched in a T-Pod in an attempt to stop the bleeding without surgery. I was denied food or anything to drink for the first two days because the doctors did not know if the bleeding would stop on its own. I had stitches in my forehead. Other wounds were bandaged and wrapped. The left side of my body was covered in deep purples bruises and extremely painful road rash.

First day home
After I was released from the hospital, I spent the next two weeks at home, unable to return to work. I'm sure you were back to earning a living before I even got out of the hospital. I was fortunate to have my husband and daughters with me doing what they could to make me comfortable.

Comfort was fleeting though. Trying to find a sleeping position that kept me off of the bruises and road rash was nearly impossible. Getting up to go to the bathroom or move about the room caused even more pain as scabs on my knees and elbows split open again and started bleeding.

As the swelling receded, a huge hematoma became apparent. I'm sure it was always there, I just couldn't see it because of all of the other damage you inflicted. Thankfully I was able to find a surgeon willing to drain the hematoma so it could start to heal. What started out as a swollen, numb, lump on my upper left buttock is now a hard, semi flat, tingly, painful area (and yet it was still oddly numb).

People keep telling me that it is just the nerves "waking up". Honestly, I wish the nerves would go back to sleep because the burning, itching, and zapping that strikes at random times is very disconcerting. I am trying to get back in to see my doctor to see it there is something that can be done to help.

Do you want to know what really pisses me off about the physical pain?

What really pisses me off about my physical pain (over two months out and I still have no feeling on my left side) is that I don't even feel like I have a right to complain about anything given the extent of the damage you inflicted on my two friends. I feel like I just need to shut up and accept it because I don't have any broken bones or because I am not in the hospital. I've been told this is similar to "survivors guilt", maybe that's what it is, but it sucks because I suffered and continue to suffer.

Hematoma after three weeks (The lump is NOT my butt!)


The Suffering of Others

Speaking of suffering. You put my husband and daughters through an incredible amount of suffering too. When you hit me, my daughters were down in southern California celebrating my oldest daughter's bachelorette weekend. They had rented a house and were having a fun weekend up until the point when my husband had to call them and tell them that I was in the hospital because of what you did. I would have given anything not to ruin their plans. However, they ended up cutting things short and coming home early. I understand why they came back early, I would have done the same if anything had happened to one of them. However, they should not have had to do that!

When my family walked into my hospital room, the pain and sadness on their faces was too much. We all started crying. I didn't want them to see me all banged up just as much as I am sure they didn't want to see their mother with stitches, scabs and bruises all over my face. You were probably at home at that exact moment enjoying dinner with your family.

I do take a bit of solace in hoping that you and your family suffered even the slightest bit of distress when the police showed up at your door and told them what you did. Did your family cry when they found out that their father hit three people and left them on the side of the road? (12/11/17 Note: After reading the police report, your family did not want you driving that truck!)

The Intangible Losses

One of my favorite activities was riding my bike. I rode with friends from the triathlon club, I rode with neighbors, I rode with co-workers, and I rode with my family. If anyone had a ride planned, I was ready to go! You have ruined, no I think STOLEN is the right word, my joy of riding. In your one single, heartless act, you have taken road cycling from me. Maybe if you would have stopped to help us, I would be able to fathom getting out one the road again. If I thought that someone would help me if the unthinkable happened, I might be able to consider riding again.

Below are several of my favorite pictures from my rides. I want to cry every time I think that I may never enjoy this again just because I am scared of some heartless jerk running me down and leaving me again. On top of that, I couldn't stand being involved in another incident where friends were injured. My husband talks about going out riding with my co-workers. I'm not sure I could stand knowing he was out on the road. I don't want to get the same call he got about me.

Heartbroken that we may never have our date-rides

Riding with my daughter and son-in-law

My co-workers

Tri club friends

Racing

I can't finish this letter...enjoy your life selling vegetables under the freeway on Saturday mornings. Watch for cyclists!