Scheduling Overload?

This is a quick list of my pilates/yoga practice this past week:
Sunday = intro to yoga @ Urban Lily Yoga
Monday = pilates mat class (turned out to be only person in class) @ Mind 2 Body
Wednesday = gentle yoga class @ Black Dog Yoga
Thursday = pilates reformer personal training @ Pilates Studio City
Friday = pilates reformer group class @ Mind 2 Body
Saturday = pilates mat class @ Michael Levy Workout
Sunday = pilates mat class/magic circle class @ Mind 2 Body

My intro to yoga seminar was amazing. I loved the instructor (Lindsay) and I enjoyed learning a bit about the context of the physical practice of yoga, some of the differences in the types of practice, what on earth some of that hokey-sounding language meant and the reasons behind some of the customs...it was literally a tiny scratching of the surface of a 5000 year old rich tradition, but I finally feel empowered and excited to practice. Now I just need to figure out how to fit it into my schedule...I really like Urban Lily Yoga, and it's soooo convenient, but the class times that are best for me seem to be geared toward more advanced students. So I might have to start off elsewhere, but I would like to end up taking more classes at this studio.

I can't say enough good things about Mind 2 Body. I love the attention to detail, the fact that they keep class sizes small, that they seem to stay true to "classical" pilates methodology, that I feel challenged and energized each time I'm there. I can't get enough. I'm a huge fan of one of their newest instructors, Jamie, and of course, the studio's owner, Lani. I was thrilled to try the reformer class, which was a real challenge, but which I was happy to fit into my lunch hour.

Gentle yoga was my second class at Black Dog Yoga, and it was exactly what I was looking for on Wednesday. I had a rough afternoon, and was very stressed and agitated, and it helped me calm my mind and body and literally open up to the evening. The instructor was good, but I'm afraid that if I hadn't just had that intro to yoga class, I wouldn't have felt very comfortable there. There were a ton of props that I'm not sure I would have felt as comfortable with and I felt like the class was a little bit fuller than I would have preferred. However, the instructor made it a point to continuously go around the room, correct our form, learn our names, and ensure that we were working at a level that was appropriate for our abilities. I found the music really distracting though. I can't remember what exactly it was, but it was some sort of pop music, and I had to work extra hard not to focus on it. I plan on trying some more classes at the studio.

Pilates Studio City was one of the more disappointing experiences for me this week. Not because I didn't get a good workout. I really did. I had a private lesson with a very good instructor named Sara, and she introduced me to the reformer apparatus. I think the building and layout of the studio is really neat and I was psyched by the variety of classes and scheduling options. But I was a little turned off by the fact that the sign-in area is essentially in the same room as the mat classes, so I felt like I was interrupting the class by coming into the studio. That was awkward but if I had been the person taking the mat class who was closest to the door, that would have been really distracting. I had to walk through the class to get to the rest room. That was even more awkward. Nobody gave me a tour of the studio or anything, which I would have liked, but not a big deal. What irked me a bit was the fact that when I watched part of a mat class upon my arrival (I was early, of course), the instructor was on the ground doing the exercises. It seemed to me that the instructor should be going around correcting form and observing, not demonstrating. I figure that I can get a demonstration from a video. Classes provide the interaction. The other thing that bothered me was the fact that my private lesson was given in a small room that contained three reformers (and three of us who each were having private lessons). I found that I felt very claustrophobic and was easily distracted. So, I may give it another shot, but I left feeling well-worked, but a little disappointed.

This weekend was a little nutty for me, pilates-wise. On Saturday, I tried out the mat class at Michael Levy Workout, in Encino. That's one of the few studios in LA in which each of the instructors has been certified to teach the original, classical pilates method that is promulgated by Romana Kryzanowska (protege of Joseph Pilates). The mat class quickly filled up, so it's a good thing I arrived early. It was clear that the other students were regulars of the studio, and seemed to be well-versed in the various exercises. Some of them even had claimed positions in the room that they always set up their mat at. That was hilarious. But I found myself a mat in unclaimed territory, and proceeded to do what I could to keep up. It was tough -- much more advanced than the intro classes I've been attending elsewhere, but the class was advertised as "open" to all levels. I'm glad I had done Mari Winsor's videos though, because I was able to follow along a lot better than I would have, had I not done those advanced videos. Anyway, it was without a doubt, one of the most challenging workouts of the week, but sooooo amazing to experience. I wish they offered more evening or early morning mat classes, but alas, Saturdays are the only ones that work with my schedule.

Today I attended the open house at Mind 2 Body, in Sherman Oaks, to which I dragged Kelley who, in turn, convinced Erica to also attend. That made it a lot more fun for me, because I otherwise would have been overwhelmed by the mad rush of the open house. But I was really disappointed in the fact that the studio switched a few things around, including what kind of class offering was given at 12:30, and which instructor was assigned to the 1pm class. I guess I can't really complain because they were free classes. But I was particularly hoping that Kelley would get to experience my favorite teacher there. And I was also looking forward to working on the bouncy-ball thing (but the class ended up being just a mat class). The mat class instructor was good, and she did help correct people's form, but because of the shortened class schedule, wasn't able to explain the moves before we did them, so I am afraid a lot of people may have been doing the moves incorrectly, or could have adjusted slightly to get more out of them. I know that they do more of that in their regular classes, but it seemed like that would have been even more important at an open house where people come without any pilates experience. Anyway, the second class was crazy hard -- the magic circle class. In addition to requiring a ton of upper arm and core strength, it also required quite a bit of balance. At the end of my two 30 minute classes, I felt that I accomplished quite a bit.

So, in lieu of running right now, this exercise seems to be the only thing I can do that doesn't irritate my hip and that doesn't bore me half to death (I'm sorry, I'm just not a huge fan of biking or swimming). Tomorrow I get to go back to the imaging center for another MRI (this time with contrast). The center messed it up last Wednesday (and sent home the doctor before I arrived so they couldn't do the injection). Fun fun. I'm a little stressed about it, but I'm sure I'll be okay.

This week I want to add some more yoga to my routine, and I'm anxious to try out Rising Lotus yoga in Sherman Oaks. It has great reviews, is also pretty close to my office, and seems to have a lot of classes for beginners at times that would possibly work for me. I'm not sure about that, so I am going to call them tomorrow to get some more info.

It's been a busy week. Somewhere between all that yoga/pilates, I also managed to do a lot of work (I've been increasing my hours by coming in early and doing some work on the weekends) and I managed to start refinishing my bathroom cabinets. And my bird, Layla, decided to repeatedly say "hello" to me. I cried. My baby speaks!!!

I think it's time that I enjoy some well-earned rest, so, that's all for now :-)

Ongoing hip pain leads me in a new direction

I've been working hard over the past several months to let my body heal. My hip pain continued so I worked with an orthopedist and physical therapist to strengthen and stretch the area. But the pain persists (though it is sporadic and somewhat unpredictable). So the orthopedist referred me to another orthopedist, who suspects that I might have a labral tear. So the next step for me is an arthogram (the MRI where they inject you with some sort of liquid that provides "contrast" and makes things like tears more apparent). But if the MRI confirms the tear, then i need to be referred to yet another orthopedist who can fix it.

In the meantime, I've been reluctant to run or train because, since I don't know for sure what is causing the pain, I don't know if I'm going to make it worse. Plus, the original orthopedist told me to avoid it. Frustrating.

So in the meantime, I've begun pursuing something I've wanted to seriously study and practice for a while now (but haven't really had the courage or confidence to do so)...pilates and yoga.

There are studios on every block in LA. Literally. There's a yoga studio within walking distance of my home and probably 50 within a 5 mile radius. I've been sampling a few and taking a variety of classes. I'm learning to connect to my body in new ways, to strengthen and stretch my body and to simply appreciate what my body is capable of achieving. I feel invigorated, challenged and perhaps best of all, a new sense of discovery. I only wish I had started sooner (maybe I wouldn't have injured myself in the first place). I'm not sure why I didn't, except that I pictured only young, tall, thin and toned people in classes and I felt a little intimidated. Well, I was wrong (duh). At the yoga class I took yesterday, a tiny toned woman who was well over 60 years old was to my right, and a woman who must have weighed 100 pounds more than I did was to my left.

Yoga and pilates are very different but seem to provide complementary benefits. I'm enjoying the ways in which various teachers approach both the subject matter and their pupils. I'm even fascinated by how the various studios operate, are designed, are advertised, etc. No two teachers are the same and no two studios are. But I feel like I'm benefiting from visiting several and experiencing the different approaches.

So even though I'm not running marathons at the moment, I'm discovering new facets of my body and two separate but fascinating traditions (one that is thousands of years old and of which physical movements are merely a small component and one that isn't even 100 years old). I'm excited to have begun my practice in both traditions, and to have discovered new ways to enrich my life.

Mmmmm.....Lemonade

I'm well aware of the old adage, "when life gives you lemons...make lemonade." Today, I finally rose to the challenge... My hip has still been bothering me, so I decided to go swimming instead of running. This may seem like a common sense solution. It certainly has been recommended to me by everyone who I've talked about my hip problem with -- doctors and non-doctors alike. But I don't like to swim. It gets BORING. And, it's WET. Duh. But I don't like the transition of getting into the pool or worse -- stepping out of it.

Today took special motivation. I had plans to show up at the Sherman Oaks public pool at 6:30 to meet my friend Kelley. Thankfully she was up to this crazy idea and knowing she would be showing up was the only thing that convinced me to follow through with the plan. I set out my suit and accessories last night so that I could sleep in till the last possible moment, and I set out to meet her.

My car's thermometer read 47 degrees. Did I mention that the pool is an outdoor pool? I knew it was supposed to be heated. But then again, the city is broke, so I wasn't sure just how hot or comfortable it would be. At least it was cheap and easy to get to. It's literally down the street, maybe a mile away. And with a library card, it only cost $2.

When we arrived, every lane was taken. Some swim team took up all of the lanes in the deep end of the pool, and we ended up with the generic short end of the pool, wedged between two lanes that didn't actually have a divider. So basically we created a new lane and likely pissed off two other swimmers. Oops. The pool, however, was AWESOME to get into. Especially because we had to shower before we left the locker room, and then we stepped into the 47 degree air. The pool, a warm 81 degrees, was like a heated blanket and hot cocoa on an snowy day. Perfect.

So with that, we began to swim. It wasn't so bad. I had recently replaced my old goggles and the new ones were tinted to block out the sun's glare. They also fit better than my last pair and didn't leak. I quickly realized that I will need to obtain a swim cap if I intend to enter the water in the future...my bangs kept falling into my mouth whenever I turned my head to breathe. Inhaling wet hair...lovely.

Leave it to Kelley to make the workout challenging and fun though. She suggested that we do some drills....time one lap. Then recover on the return lap. Then try to beat our previous time. Then recover. It was just like a hill repeat. Only lateral. I felt like there was suddenly a purpose to my swimming.

One of the nice surprises about the pool was all of the accessories that were included: kick-boards, whatever-that-thing-you-put-between-your-legs-so-you-only-swim-with-your-arms-but-you-don't-kick-is-called, and even the aqua jogger belt!!! We attempted the aqua jogger in the 4 foot deep water, and made it across the pool a few times. It felt very awkward. Were we doing it right? We had no idea. But it got my heart rate up and it felt like I was doing something. And it was fun, because with our heads above the water, we could talk. Like actual running. That felt nice.

Finally, the swim team cleared out and we got to move into the deep end. It became nearly impossible to propel ourselves forward with the aqua belt on, but we did it anyway, and really pumped our arms. My later YouTube research has led me to believe that we don't actually need to go forward when we're running in the deep end, but alas, it wasn't a bad thing. We mixed it up, used the kick boards and that other between-the-legs-thing, and finished our 50 or so minutes.

It wasn't a continuous workout -- I stopped after most laps. But it was probably the most fun I've had working out in the water. And my hip didn't hurt once throughout the entire time. And even better, when we finished, I felt like I had worked hard, but could keep going. And even more amazing...I actually wanted to.

The most difficult part of the morning -- even more so than getting out of bed -- was getting out of the warm pool into the cool air. I won't lie. It sucked. Big time. But I survived, and I'm looking forward to doing it again. Lemonade, anyone?

Yet Another Setback

I'm starting to get really frustrated. On Friday evening, my hip started twinging again, and when I woke on Saturday morning, the twinging had turned into pain. So once again, I chose to sit-out practice instead of pushing myself and causing additional injury. But I'm getting very concerned that maybe the physical therapy isn't really helping, and maybe the pain was mis-diagnosed. I'm frustrated and disappointed and ready to get to the bottom of this.

On the upside, once again, our practice was not rained out. So at least I wasn't sitting in the rain. And on the upside, while I sat and waited for the rest of the group, I watched everyone's stuff, did my stretching and strengthening exercises from the physical therapist, and hung out with friends. So all things considered, it could have been a lot worse.

I'm just mainly disappointed because I really felt good and ready to re-build my base again.

On the upside, I purchased a very cute bathing suit this weekend, so I can do my cardio at the pool. I haven't tried the public pool yet, but I understand that it's heated year-round, and pretty inexpensive. I plan to try it out sometime this week.

Proud Pain

I know of two types of pain -- the pain of injury and the pain of accomplishment. I've struggled with the former for several months now, as I've been trying to heal my hip pain. But at the moment, I'm indulging in the latter -- pain from my amazing strength training workout yesterday.

It's great. Whenever I lift my arms, I'm reminded of the many reps of combination lifts I performed. If I laugh or change positions in my seat, my abs send a quick reminder of the work I did on the balance ball. The high heels I put on this morning are a lovely reminder of my calf stengthening/balance exercises. And most exciting -- the lack of hip pain tells me I did a great job of stretching the muscles in my legs.

I suppose the pain might not be so great had I been consistently working out in this way. But I simply feel proud of what I'm capable of doing.

Kicking out the Lazy

I haven't figured out why I can manage to wake up for long runs on Saturdays but during the week I lose all motivation. That's probably why our team holds mid-week practices on Wednesdays and Thursdays -- I'm not the only one who needs a bit of help. But as I've been easing back into my training schedule, I've had an even more difficult time staying consistent with my strength training workouts.

So this morning, I had the help of an obnoxious phone call at five minutes to six to help wake me up and kick me out of bed. The call wasn't even for me, go figure. I got ready and went to Bridget's insanely cheerful gym. For an hour, she reminded me why I love training -- breaking my mental barriers and accomplishing empowering physical challenges. I left sore, but in that great way where you know you did something tough.

And I was energized and pumped to continue on track to get stronger, healthier and happier.

And then the clock reached 9:30 am, and I crashed.

So now my challenge going forward is to find ways to harness the good feelings I had during my training session and immediately afterwards, and hold onto them for as long as I can. I want to focus on that feeling when I start arguing with myself each morning whether or not I want to get out of bed and go for a run.

It's interesting. I know that some workouts have been better than others -- but there is not a single workout that I've ever actually regretted doing. I definitely can't say the same for the number of mornings I have skipped working out.

First steps ... a second time

On Saturday morning, I woke up 3 minutes before my alarm started wailing "The Power of Love" by Huey Lewis and the News (you know, one of the most memorable ones from Back to the Future). I dragged myself out of bed and looked out the window at the black sky with wet pellets cascading down. In my morning daze, I managed to put on my training garb and dash from the front door to my car. Why I bothered to dash, I'm not sure. If the rain didn't stop, I was still going to be outside in it for the next few hours.

I drove to Balboa park and when I made the turn from Burbank onto Balboa and saw the cones that were being placed to close Burbank, it dawned on me that when it rains, the Sepulveda basin floods and they close not only the park, but also the steets leading to the park. Uh oh.

But as 6:30 rolled around, and my fabulous TNT leaders found street parking and met outside of the closed park, we caught a break. Literally. A break in the storm. And miraculously, this break lasted for the entire practice and post-practice pot-luck. We revised our training schedule to account for the weather (i.e., no timed mile on wet slippery ground and no strength training because nobody wanted to lay down on top of the puddles).

Practice was really amazing, all things considered. We warmed up for 6 minutes up and down Balboa, stretched as a group and one of our amazing and inspiring participants led us in our mission moment. She spoke to us about how she was inspired by her mother, who passed away from a blood cancer about ten years ago. 100 pounds lighter, our amazing participant (who has already met her fundraising goal even though it's only the third week), decided to join TNT and run a marathon and celebrate life. Despite being such an inspirational person with such an inspirational message, she was nervous to speak to the group. She read from an excerpt of a letter that she had written. I was moved twice -- once by her story but the second time, by the courage it took her to share it with us. And I thought about how public speaking is probably most people's greatest fear...but at least on Saturday morning, we were all listening to our participant speak publicly not to judge, to insult, or to compare ourselves to her, but to hear what she had to say and to be inspired on our run. That's a good thing to keep in mind next time I need to speak to a group. The group wants the speaker to succeed (usually :-)).

After our mission moment and our "go TEAM" we were off. Because the weather was still nice, we ran through the park from Balboa towards Woodley, 25 minutes out and back. Because I wanted to take things slowly, I ended up walking 99% of the route. But just moving for the sustained period outdoors was so refreshing and invigorating. I saw hawks, an egret, some mist atop of the lake, and even a rainbow. All of which I would have missed had I not dragged myself out of bed. I enjoyed the company of old friends and new, and was reminded of how life is infinitely more enjoyable when I force myself to rise early and challenge myself on Saturday mornings.


A few moments before I got back into my car, the sky opened up and the clouds dumped two hours worth of collected unspent rain. My hips felt stiff.

And I can't wait to do it all over again next week!

Refreshed and Ready

It's been a while since I updated this blog because it's unfortunately been a while since I've been able to do any serious running. During the week after the Nike Women's Marathon, I was in such pain that I could barely walk without cringing. After a month of rest and stretching, the pain hadn't improved and I got an MRI of my right hip. It didn't show a stress fracture, thankfully, but I continued to rest and stretch. When it barely improved, I began working with a physical therapist to strengthen and stretch the hip. Apparently I have tendonitis.
It's been mentally tough to stay motivated and enthusiastic while being unable to train and having to watch races that I had signed up for months ago pass me by. But my hard work is starting to pay off and I'm finally able to walk a decent amount of mileage and include some running in the mix. I'm confident that the strengthening exercises I'm doing will make me a faster and stronger runner over the long run, and although I've been instructed that I should not plan to complete a full marathon this spring/summer, I am looking forward to training potentially for a half, even if that means I will be doing more walking than running.
The Summer Session for TNT is well under way and I'm team captain for some of the most incredible, inspiring, and inspired athletes I've ever met. It gives me a rush to wake up before the sun and hang out with them every Saturday morning. Who on earth looks forward to 6:30 am on Saturday mornings?!? Well, I'm now one of the few.
I can't believe that the last time I really ran for any decent amount of time was October 18. It's been about four months, so I really will be starting back at the beginning. I assume it will be a little frustrating for me not to be able to go out as fast as I was, and even more frustrating that my endurance is no longer where it was in the fall. But dealing with setbacks is part of training, and I certainly have no interest in giving up.
Nike really was a great event for me. Prior to it, my half marathon time had hovered around 3 hours and 40 minutes. (Okay, in my defense, it was my first race, was on mostly uneven trails, and I walked 99% of it -- and I stopped for 3 bathroom breaks and took a million pictures). But Nike was different. I ran/walked with Kelley Last (who is to blame for my getting into this crazy business in the first place). But because the starting area was so completely packed, we literally couldn't make it to the area where the people who ran a similar pace were waiting. So we started off with a much faster group of people, and for fear of being trampled, kept up with the faster pace for the first mile or so. It's basically the opposite of what you're supposed to do on a distance run -- we took off like horses out of the gate. But the beautiful San Francisco weather and scenery and the general energy around us sustained us, and we continued to make pretty good time throughout most of the course.
It's so much fun to run with someone you enjoy. You end up in a bit of a trance and miles literally fly by without your being completely conscious of it. Ultimately, Kelley wanted to PR and I really was at a slower pace, so we separated for the last few miles. I had my Garmin and my ipod and experienced a very different kind of a race for those last miles. I had to push myself and dig deep when I thought I couldn't keep going at mile 11. But as I turned into the park for the last stretch and "Welcome to the Jungle" suddenly came on my ipod, I got that extra burst of energy that I needed. I made it to the Ghiradelli stop, downed my quick sugar, listened to more Guns 'n Roses, saw the clock and realized that there was a very real possibility that I could break 3 hours if I didn't slow down and walk. So I dug deep and finished strong in 2:55:16, my new PR.
So, post-PR and hip injury where does this leave me? With the knowledge of what I'm capable of doing, with more respect for my body's limitations and signals, with more patience and good sense and more drive to ultimately exceed my expectations.
But I have to take it one step at a time.

I can't wait!

I'm going to be running another half marathon on Sunday! I can't wait! It's the Nike Women's Marathon and Half-Marathon in San Francisco -- an event so popular that a lottery determines who (in addition to Team in Training members) participates. The event's proceeds benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, but because I am not participating with TNT this time around, I was lucky enough to win a place via the lottery.
I've been training and looking forward to this event for several months now, and I'm beyond frustrated that a little over a week ago, I over-trained and injured my right hip. Apparently, it's a bad idea to run 9.6 miles of hills, then to complete 200 + squats, and then to do a brisk 5 mile walk at Runyon Canyon. I ended up with an inflamed hip. So I've been forced to take it easy, and to take some anti-inflammatory. I'm feeling a little better (no excruciating pain), but I still definitely feel the soreness. Very frustrating.
But this event should be unforgettable and I'm determined to see it through. And I won't be doing it alone. Some of my friends will also be running (although perhaps a bit faster) and I'm so inspired! I've been told a little bit about what to expect...a Ghiradelli chocolate stop, beautiful views of the bay and the bridge, exciting hills, and of course, in lieu of a finisher's medal, a Tiffany & Co. necklace presented by a firefighter wearing a tuxedo. No inflamed hip is going to stand in my way!!!
I'm going to see my cousins after the race and I am so excited. Now I only need time to fast-forward through the next few days!

I did it!!!

I can't believe it took me so long to reflect and gather my thoughts about participating in, and completing my first full marathon. But I suppose that later is better than never.

The event really started the evening before, when the San Fernando Valley Team met in the hotel lobby to walk next door to the convention center for our Inspiration Dinner. When we arrived at the convention center, we weren't allowed inside, though clearly there were many people already there. We stood, peering in through the windows for what felt like an hour (though it was probably only about 20 minutes), and at one point we recognized some of our mentors, team captains and coaches waiving to us. When they finally let us through the doors, we walked straight into a celebration. A path from the door we entered to the exhibit hall that housed our dinner formed on either side by cheering mentors, team captains, honored teammates and coaches. We were literally welcomed like champions from the people who got us to that point. Thus flowed the first of my tears that weekend.

The dinner itself was exactly what it claimed to be -- inspirational. We cheered the 10 most successful individual fundraisers (the top one raised over $100K), were given advice, were privileged to learn from remarkable survivors and had some humor and pasta in the mix. It was an early night because we had to meet our team at 4am the following morning. Yeah. 4 AM.

So I lay my necessary race-day items on the sofa before going to bed. I didn't fall asleep right away because I was so nervous. I don't know why I was so scared. I wasn't worried about my time since I knew that I wasn't competing for an award. But I was excited and concerned that perhaps I wouldn't finish within the time limits. I didn't know if I would be able to spot my cheering parents or husband. I didn't know if I could finish the race or if I would fall short due to injury or just plain exhaustion. I didn't know if I was strong enough.

I woke and dressed in a daze and managed to meet the gathering sleepy team in the hotel lobby. While in the lobby, our team manager informed me that I was selected as a mentor for the winter session and she'd be in touch later during the week!

We were warned that it would be cool before the sun rose, and that we should bring clothing that we would discard but that would keep us warm pre-race. One of my friends had a fleece dress thing that made me look fit for a barnyard, but was surprisingly toasty. It came in handy. We filed downstairs, got into buses that took us to Balboa Park (near the zoo) and the starting line. Our team did a warm-up, checked our bags (containing our protein bars, flip flops, etc) into UPS trucks that would transport our items to the finish line, and hung out until it was time to go to our respective corrals.

I was assigned to Corral 22. My friend CJ was also at that Corral and we shivered together awaiting the push of the crowd. There were supposed to be 1000 people assigned to each corral, so it ended up taking about 10 minutes to get to the starting line. We stood with all sorts of people, including several versions of Elvis and some cheerful superheros.

We started the race at a walk. It was crowded and people were swerving around each other, but I could just feel the excitement like an electric charge somehow in the air. Everywhere I looked, people had a bounce in their steps and a smile on their faces.

Within a mile or two, CJ and I caught up with some of our other friends, coaches and captains who had been in lower Corrals. Together, CJ, Leslie and I walked the first several miles, enjoying the cool breeze, the rising sun and the walk from Balboa Park to downtown San Diego. Preparing to see my husband at Petco Park, I had not expected to run into my parents before that point. But I looked up and saw my smiling mom and dad, camera in hand, waving and cheering me along the route at around the 3rd mile. I felt amazing. Energized, comfortable, and now as if I were doing something spectacular.

I was feeling the extra high from seeing my personal cheering squad when we finally rounded Petco Park, and my parents and Noah were waiting for me. I ran off course for a moment to give them each a hug and kiss, still smiling like a giddy fool and running back to re-join CJ and Leslie.

Shortly thereafter, CJ, who had trained at a much faster pace, decided to run, and Leslie and I continued to power-walk. I still felt strong, but was scared to really run because I didn't want to end up separated from Leslie (who didn't train to run) and I didn't know if I would have the stamina to finish all 26.2 if I did.

We walked past our hotel and the waterfront where I had previously vacationed and dined with my in-laws. I recognized a famous statue, saw the parked cruiseliners, enjoyed some good bands every mile or so. We passed cancer survivors who had signs and clapped for us and let us know how much they appreciated what we were doing.

When we passed my parents and Noah once more at mile 7, the initial excitement and novelty had worn off and I was starting to feel like I was working. Still, I felt strong and positive and supported. And I had Leslie's company.

We had been warned that there would be a 2 mile steady incline at some point in the first half of the race. We knew when we found it. We entered the 163 freeway and walked against traffic (though technically there was no traffic because the street was closed). This was just after the 8th mile, and we were excited about the novelty of walking on a freeway. The view was incredible, with arched bridges, green laced mountain peaks (or maybe just hills) and road. The excitement was once again palpable. Leslie and I were not the first to experience freeway walking for the first time.

But by mile 10, there did not seem to be an end in sight and my thighs were burning. This scared me because if I felt that bad at mile 10, I couldn't imagine how I would get to, much less get through, the next 10. But our pace was strong, and we knew that the incline couldn't last forever. It was at that point that Leslie and I started thinking about our training and how glad we were that we had done much tougher hills during our practice runs. We were strong and knew we could tackle hills. But we hadn't counted on the horizontal slope of the road. We were prepared for the incline, but the road itself was curved for drainage, and we couldn't find flat footing to square our hips. That was why our hips were feeling like we had already completed more than 10 miles.

But after a few mirages, the road finally peaked and tipped for what seemed like a steep decline. The decline felt almost as bad as the incline, but at least we got to focus on different muscles and distribute the pain. But once again, the novelty of walking on a freeway was wearing off, and the course was not the bustling entertainment mecca that the beginning of the race had been. On this long stretch of road, we didn't have live bands or cheerleaders or even really spectators, unless the medical personnel count.

Between mile 11 and 12, we finally exited the freeway and returned to civilization. There, we were cheerfully greeted by cheerleaders, spectators, and finally, by our coaches, captains and mentors! They walked a little bit with us, distracted us, fed us what tasted like the creme de la creme of gold fish (ahhh salt!!!) and gave us the refreshing emotional recharge we hadn't realized we needed.

We took off, this time with a woman (Sharon Cogan) we started talking to on the route. She had trained on her own as something to acheive before her 40th birthday (that weekend). It was with her that we further distracted ourselves from our discomfort, and power-walked through the half-marathon finish point. Leslie's family greeted her, Sharon's husband surprised her, and we knew the best was yet to come...the bay.

We made the first check point (mile 13.4) with plenty of time to spare and felt confident that we could lose some time in our pace and still make the next and final checkpoint at mile 19. And as we turned the road, I saw my mom, dad and Noah once more. My mom ran to join me and I ran to join her as she jogged with me for a moment. My expression was grateful, but pained. I was already sore and tired, and I felt a blister appearing on the ball of my right foot.

The next several miles were a disappointment. From the course map I studied the prior night, I thought we would have scenic bay views for the next 9 miles. I was incorrect. We enjoyed more and more road. Even more frustrating, because we were relatively slow (but we were still on pace to finish on time), lots of the bands we passed were packing up and blasting recorded music. The cheering squads kept making running cheers, but said nothing for walkers, and we were tired and sore. Our adrenaline was gone, we knew we wouldn't see our personal cheerleaders until close to the end of the race (or in my case, at the very end of the race), and why couldn't we see the damn bay?

But we had some pleasant surprises. We went through a residential neighborhood between miles 15 and 16, and one family had prepared thousands of oranges and were handing out and cleaning the remains of orange slices. Just after mile 16, we finally glimpsed the bay and passed a really fun band that was actually still playing live music. Leslie and I started running and were re-energized once more. By mile 18 or 19, I felt like hell. My thighs burned, my blisters screamed, everything felt tight and stiff, and I was sticky. I am sure I looked about as good as I felt when we passed what looked like a row of frat houses. I looked up in time for us all to recieve an entertaining strip show from a highly muscled guy on his front lawn, cheering us on in his unique way. It was funny enough to take our minds off of the pain for another half of a mile.

At this point, we enjoyed the bay. Leslie and I had gotten really good at feeling the mile markers, and predicting them just before they came into our view. We passed our mile 19 checkpoint with time to spare (albeit, not as much time as we had previously), but that was the first moment I felt like I could really do it. Like I could really finish the race. The pressure was gone, I would be allowed to finish without a pace car picking me up and moving me to the finish line.

But it just got harder and harder. I got more and more exhausted. I needed more sleep. I needed to stretch. I wanted to stop. Everything hurt. I was tired of being tired and sore. I just wanted to be finished.

But I kept moving. I couldn't go any faster. I just focused on nothing. If I stopped, I feared I wouldn't resume, and so we didn't stop. We couldn't increase our speeds but we kept our pace, attuned with a rhythm that allowed our minds to relax and our legs to take over. I thought about one of the things someone said the previous night about when we can't walk with our legs anymore, we'll walk with our hearts.

When we saw our Team coaches again, we couldn't really carry a coherent conversation. We just kept moving, just trying to finish what we started. Leslie's husband and son joined us between mile 22 and 23. I can't imagine how different our expressions were since the approximately 9 or 10 miles since they had last spotted us.

Leslie and I kept each other moving. When one of us would start slowing, the other kept pace. Neither of us could fathom finishing this race on our own. We pushed and kept pace. A sweating fading somewhat green Hulk ran by, and Superman came disheveled out of a porta-potty. I was thirsty and drank a lot of water. I simply kept moving.

At mile 24, we got a breath of fresh air. Ines, our walking coach, waited for us and joined us, proud, encouraging, and strong. We whined, she understood, she encouraged us, and we tried to match our pace to hers. She reminded us that if we didn't feel as bad as we did, then everyone would do marathons. We focused on finishing. I alternated visualizing myself crossing the finish line with flashbacks to my half marathon with Ines. I recalled during the half marathon how tired and sore I had felt at the 10th mile and how Ines kept encouraging me. I compared my recollection of that pain with the current pain, and I thought about how every step I took at this point was a step further than I had ever taken.

It was at that point that I knew that however much more pain was in store for me, I would finish, and I would not do it alone. I got teary-eyed once more and felt grateful for how far I had come and proud of how much I could endure.

And we finally approached the entrance to the Marine Corps. We were greeted by two Marines who told us that we only had a half of a mile left. We felt huge relief.

And as we kept walking, we felt deceived. There was more than a half of a mile left. The damn race wouldn't end. Where was the marker for the 26th mile? Where was the finish line? Where were the spectators? We saw plenty of people, wearing medals, walking toward us on the side of the roadway, and they were leaving...going to their cars.

And then we heard the music. We heard the beginning of Journey's Don't Stop Believing, and saw the path through a building into what had to be our finish area. We saw the 26th mile marker. We followed the path under a structure and into the finish area. We saw the finish line. I looked and saw my mom cheering me from the sideline, taking photos of me and running along the side with us. I turned to Leslie and asked her if she wanted to run, and although neither of us really had anything left to give, we gave it all, turned to the finish and ran together across the finish line.

My parents were to my right. I staggered to them and hugged them tight. I stumbled away and found the person distributing medals. It was heavy but I wasn't sure if I was just weakened. I got an official photograph, hair toussled and sweat-saturated. I grabbed a banana and some water, got directions, and hobbled to meet my extremely proud looking parents and Noah.

Together, we picked up my bag from the UPS truck, I grabbed a protein bar, checked in with the TNT booth where I picked up my 26.2 mile pin. I finally sat down, stretched slowly, debriefed slightly, and I put on my flipflops.

I was in a daze. I was there but I wasn't. It just didn't feel real. But I looked at my parents and at Noah, who I don't recall ever having seen looking at me in the way that they did. It felt like they were looking at a champion, not someone who stumbled slowly through the finish line after most of the spectators and participants had already left for the day. I remember telling them that this day, this race, and the four months leading up to it, were the single hardest thing I have ever done. I've never worked so hard for any goal. And no other goal had ever felt that good to acheive.

They helped me to the bus that would take me back to the hotel for a much needed shower and nap. I wanted some time to reflect on the event.

When we met up for dinner a few hours later, I could only really waddle. But I wasn't alone. Looking at the other people walking up and down the street, I saw plenty of other waddlers. We went to an Italian restaurant for dinner and debriefed on the marathon from the spectator's perspective and my own. I still didn't have much energy, but I had enough to really appreciate how lucky I was to have both of my parents and my husband there to share in such an important day in my life. I became someone with purpose, who could withstand obstacles and stick with my goals, and who exceeded my own preconcieved limitations. I shattered my own mental restraints on the type of person I am, the type of body I have and the type of activities and goals I can achieve. And I did so with a Team of friends and supporters, a long-distance group of family and friends, and I was able to share the culmination of that experience with three of the most influential persons who have most dramatically shaped my life. I couldn't ask for a more fulfilling experience.

I am so grateful for the many people who helped me achieve this goal, whether they offered encouraging words or planted the seed that grew to an obsession with walking and running, whether they helped me raise over $2600 to battle blood cancers or were simply there for me, or whether they walked every step of the way with me, or a few, and whether they trained me or cheered for me.

I am truly blessed.