A little nerve calming check list

Race report: Watford Half Marathon 7 Feb 2010

I signed up to this over Christmas. I knew that my marathon training was going to be a lot of lonely miles on the roads, so I thought that running in a race with others might be good. Also, I'd get to train my race routines - packing my bag, pinning my number, hydration and fueling, and dealing with the pre-race jitters!

I was a good girl all weekend - no alcohol even though a friend gently offered me some red wine the evening before when we were hanging out. Early to bed, eating carbs to fill up my depots. I hadn't really run enough the weeks before, since I was ill for five days, and then struggling to get back to normal the next week. To "make up" for it I ran 8km on the Friday and 5 on the Saturday, and my legs were feeling tired. I had a sports massage on the Saturday, something I have been trying to get around to for a while because I am still dealing with some sciatica issues in my left thigh. It felt good, but I could still "feel" my legs Saturday evening. I was getting nervous too.

Into the bag: running shoes! Clothes to run in - pants, bra, top, long sleeved shirt, socks, panties. Towel, toiletries, my ipod with the nike thingie, two fruit bars for the run, wallet and all that stuff.

I got up at around 6.30 to got ready to leave, and decided I would change at the venue. I dressed in jeans and my normal coat, double-checked my bag with the running gear - maybe I should bring my running number and the directions and information on the race?! Maybe I should!

Off I go - it's cold today - and even on the bus from my stop a guy gets on, wearing sky blue track pants, he's doing some sort of exercise today, I think to myself. Surely enough, he gets off at the same stop as me, and as I walk through the train station I notice more and more people wearing running gear, walking the same way as me. At the platform there are people sitting on benches, that are surely going to the same race. I start thinking to myself that I should have changed at home - I'm not going to have time to get ready, oh no! I consider changing in the toilet on the train, but decide that that is just not going to happen!

The procession continues as we arrive into Watford, 10-20-60 people form a long snake walking towards the Colosseum where all is buzzing with runners of all ages and shapes and ethnicities. It feels good, and as I get changed I realise that I am fine for time. I pin my number to my top, and take a moment to take in the feeling in the big hall. People are chattering away, making the last preparations, and there is a definite sense of anticipation in the air. I need to use the toilet again, but the queue for the women's is MASSIVE, so about 15 minutes before race start I start moving towards the start (and the portaloos!). There's a pretty long queue here too, but it's moving. Will I have time to warm up a little more after the toilets? Not really, but I feel ok and do a little stretch against a tree (I like to think that I'm hugging a tree every time I stretch!) before joining the others in the start area.

We're off. I'm feeling good, getting carried in the crowds. The ladies and veteran men start off on their own, and as we join the men after a few hundred meters I'm feeling pretty good about my legs. It's pretty flat now, and people are jostling to find their spot in the crowd; after running along the edges for a while, it thins out and I settle into a rhythm. I select a couple of women running at my pace to be my "targets" - people I measure against and want to stick with during the race and run from in the end, if at all possible. It works really well for me to have them to think about during the long slog.

21km is a long way, and with a couple of hills that didn't catch my eye on the height profile of the race I had moments of "phew, now what?". Running through forest paths and along field lanes has a beauty I don't get on my normal runs. Through my increasingly tired eyes I appreciate the glorious cold of the morning.

I'm overtaken by a girl running fast (too fast?) up a hill - I stick to my pace, I know it'll bring me home. Eventually I pass her in the forest going up a hill, and smile to her, say "come on - keep it up!" and we share a moment of that painful running joy, but she is tired and falls back.

I'm doing well, overtaking a couple of the girls I set my targets on, but the one with the orange jersey is running with a friend, who keeps pushing her ahead.

I'm experimenting with energy supplements, gels, fruit bars and energy drinks along the route. Apart from a slight nausea from the liquid energy in my stomach it's good - every time I take a gel I get a boost to the legs within a minute or two. I save one for the very end - we're back in town and I'm feeling knackered. The blackcurrant fruit bar is making me feel sick and in the end I just have half, but it's enough to keep me going, moving. The orange jersey girl is tiring, I'm struggling but I want to stick with her. Her friend ups the tempo and forces her to keep going - I follow, but after a few minutes I can no more. They set off and I accept that she's going to finish ahead of me.

The last long stretch is dotted with people cheering us on, some have completed the run, others are there to encourage their friends and family. I'm so tired but try to stick to my pace as best I can, and when I touch the final 200m I let it rip - giving it a last sprint I overtake 8-10 guys and a couple of girls, I'm feeling the burn but I can do this!

I did it, and it felt good.

8 days to go till marathon day!

Work is keeping me very very busy these days, and I've felt exhausted when I finally got home. My training for the marathon I'm running next week hasn't lived up to my hopes because I've felt drained and tired, and haven't had the extra umpf to go get all the miles in that I need.. I'm a bit disappointed in myself, even though I know that it's not my "fault". This will be my first marathon and I really wanted to do well, to be well prepared and feel a whole lot more secure with my level of fitness and running skills. After putting in all those runs and hours on cold winter days it feels a bit of waste to let it all float so close to the race..

I've felt all along that I can do this, and I know that unless something goes very very wrong on the day I will complete, which is my basic goal. My secondary goal has been to run under 4 hours, and I was hoping that with the right training I might be able to go under 3:45. I've been re-adjusting that - I'd be really happy with anything under 4 hours, but have less hope of 3:45. But I have a feeling that just completing will pretty much make my day :.D

I'm getting nervous about the 42km next Sunday, but have accepted that I will just have to do what I can - that's all I can do! Wow, 8 days to go now!

Wish me luck!

Inside

A basketball rests on my window sill, together with stacks of disused ID cards from every step along the way. And a pod that says "Hello, ancient friend!!".

Sometimes I wonder what people make of me when they meet me. They don't know that I've played ball for many years, or that I've lived overseas, or that I have a crazy little friend who's addicted to pods.

The image we present of ourselves to others, coloured by our own perceptions of ourselves, and of others, and of how others see us, only reveals as much as we can and are willing to convey. There will always be an internal knot of *me*, which never sees the light of day. Even allowing people anywhere near that is scary.

Life on the go

I feel like I'm being jostled around, a little boat on an unruly sea; weathering the storm, but taking in water. I'm lonely in here. Working as hard as I can, but it never really stacks up. What happened to those quick wins that give encouragement and perspective on a long hard slog? What happened to sharing those passions with someone else? What happened to daring to give a bit of your vulnerable self to someone else?

What happened to me?

Ramping up.

Tomorrow at 10.30: 21.1km, no stopping, no hesitating.

Wish me luck. Maybe it'll take my mind off things; I sure could use that.

Love to y'all, my faithful (3?) readers.

Making the connection

It was easier, oh - so much easier, to see him as a relative living in a faraway land. Not that he isn't still living far away, but he's becoming so much more to me.

In a more and more insistent manner my family history is pressing itself into my life. Actually, maybe I am seeking it out, becoming more aware of the little signs in my everyday life. Who knows how these things happen.

My family's history has always been something of which I was proud - the diversity, the amazing stories of exotic places, adventures, and survival. My grandparents have lived lives that are inspiring in so many ways, and their stories have never seized to amaze or enthral me. I have listened to endless repetitions of journeys to China that took months, life in suburban Long Island, and once in a rare while second hand stories of those moments that are too tough to be spoken by those who experienced them.

The history that has been nearing my consciousness is the life of my maternal grandfather. Granpa's is perhaps the most difficult to deal with and understand, and I have a feeling that the signs I have been sensing over the last while are sparking some kind of consciousness within me, pushing me to, if not be able to understand, then at least reflect on the importance his life holds over mine.

Since moving to the UK three and a half years ago I have learned of a distant relative. I am sure my mother or aunts have spoken of her before, but she never registered in my world until my mom arranged for her to meet up with the whole family, who had come to London to visit me. She seemed lovely, a bit feisty, and certainly a very self-confident woman who rested in an awareness of herself. I was going through personal issues at the time, and was in no way interested in taking up her friendly offer of coming to stay with her in Devon. "What, me, visit some woman I've just met in the middle of nowhere? I don't think so. I don't care that she sees some obscure family link. Besides, I'm upset and confused and hurting right now."

Over a year later my mom came to visit and arranged for us to go to Devon to see her in the countryside. It was lovely. I then realised that my mom's side of the family are her only surviving family. My grandfather's cousin was her mother, which I think means that she is my second cousin once removed. The vast majority of her family succumbed during the second world war, which makes sense. So did most of my Granpa's. This link is seemingly obvious but never the less to me this link was hard to make initially. She is family. I just didn't know her.

We had a lovely time, and I have stayed in touch with her since, visiting her a couple of times. I like to think that we are building a warm relationship. I appreciate her a lot. I even dreamt of her and my granpa recently. Since then I have finally managed to join her for a meeting of the group of second generation holocaust survivors she attends. I snuck in as a third generation, as I had been hoping to over the last year.

Two days later Granpa had a stroke. The frequency of connections made in my head to my grandfather and to the hardships he has endured are becoming denser. I wonder if it's because I am "ready" now to deal with this now, or it is because he is getting older. Or because the very presence of her in my life is a reminder of the preciousness of family ties, and she sees the connection between the holocaust and our family's development. It's horrific to finally be opening up to realities my grandfather faced, only to realise how vulnerable and fragile the memory of it is in his hard worn body. Who will know his hardships when he has passed?

Today is Holocaust Memorial day. I have never observed this before, but it strikes me and strengthens my feeling that I am pursuing something of great importance to me. My family history. A history that reaches beyond me and you, and touches on something deeper in all of us. I'm sorry to say it, but it's love, darling, and hope.

Family matters

It's as though I've reached the cusp of this long dark slog, nearing what seemed to be an airy, bright time. But an ominous dark is spreading throughout, grey and laden with tears.

My grandfather has had a stroke. He lives on the other side of the ocean, overseas and over land. He lives yet. He has taken his numerous sets of pills many times daily for many years now, it's hardly a shock that something more serious has happened. His body is old, and worn out with working long, hard hard hours; some for others under force, others for his family. Life as a labourer takes its toll. Life as a persecuted man, however young and strong he was, has taken its toll. My grandfather is a large man. His body is hard, even where roundness has added to his bulk. His legs carry him still, but every step he takes is so painful he winces. It's been like this for years, but slowly the decline is reaching new lows.

His daughters are there, with each their own burdens to carry, each bringing a bit of misery and a lot of love. They congregate as his broad frame feels frail, distraught, heavy.

And I am far away, finally beginning to realise the importance of roots, the depth of lives lived, and the impact of our history on our lives. And there is nothing I can do.

2010?

★ LIBRA 23 September-23 October What a bundle of contradictions is a Libran: pushy but eager to please; shrewd but oddly indecisive. This is the sign of the well-dressed charmer with a hidden agenda – not you, obviously, but those other, dark side Librans. You just do charm.

In 2010, what counts is not your easy smile but your inner steel. With Saturn dominating your horoscope for most of the year, it's a time for tough, long-term decisions, for ambition tempered by pragmatism.

Even among non-astrologers, Saturn has a weighty reputation; it's the planet of age, maturity, responsibility and hard work. In a related guise Saturn is about exactitude and turning a bright idea into reality; it represents the patience and persistence that allows masterworks to be written and cathedrals to be raised. Such projects invariably demand rather more effort than we anticipate, but once completed, become defining achievements.

Plan the new year with that perspective in mind. Indeed, since Saturn is resident in your skies right through to, gulp, October 2012, it's a perfect time for a major undertaking; restoring your mansion, founding a company, becoming prime minister (take note David Cameron, born 9/10/66) or casting the Ring of Power into the fires of Mount Doom. Prioritise ruthlessly and stick to your chosen quest.

Until April, it's birthdays between 23 to 28 September (and 1980 Librans) who feel Saturn's touch. From September onwards, the rest of the Libran tribe are in the frame, especially 1981 birthdays who complete one cycle of Saturn's 30-year orbit (the well-noted "Saturn Return").

Relationships that require commitment or closure also come under Saturn's remit. Here, August looks pivotal. The duo of Mars and Venus (your ruler) in your skies lend a forceful, magnetic touch for either finding or consummating a romance. July and August are – not just for Librans – a potentially incendiary phase; keep your cool with friends, family and partners. Show grace under pressure.

February promises enchantment in your personal life, whether you're collecting Valentines or rekindling old flames. The unusual movements of Mars (your partnership planet, whether in love or business) make the first five months of 2010 ideal for networking, mixing business and pleasure, or changing your favoured in-crowd. October and November, with Venus in retreat, is a time for adjusting finances and having second thoughts about decisions made in the summer.

Other people are invariably vital to Libra's mission, but part of Saturn's message is that when push comes to shove, no one helps you but yourself. Take a sidekick shopping to help choose the right colour ("I should have got the blue") but the big decisions should be taken alone.

Year's end

Back in London the frost is biting the little skin I allow to be exposed to the air. It's clear. Cold. Sunrise is the most amazing time of day: at around 8am the skies finally relent to the meek sun and pink hues colour the distance while a blood red sun slowly lifts its head. My 9th floor flat does have some benefits that go a (little) way to make up for the current lack of heating.

I'm going home for the holidays on Monday.

This year is ending with what feels like a sense of conclusion. I can sense a lot of reflection being pushed ahead - "I'll think when I've got time", seems to be the way. Knowing myself this will happen in the little thatched house in the bosom of my family between Christmas and New Year's with cold walks in a foggy, barren forest, talking to myself, the horses by the forest ranger's house, the dunes, the gnarly trees in the "troll forest", the sea. And so I keep on going on. Year's end always has this effect on me, but where I last year was confused and worried, I am now ready to take a look back at a year of changes and achievements, pleasures and confusion, worry and hope. You'll all be in those thoughts. My friends drive me forward, reflecting with me on our thoughts, giving me perspectives to consider, hoping with me, and worrying with me.

So, to all - happy holidays. I shall be thinking of you over the next weeks, with a smile on my lips.

M

Off I go!

Me, tomorrow, India, wedding! Very exciting!

Take care y'all, I'm off to get me a bindi, a sari, and a couple of proper curry meals.

Will be back mid Dec.

M

Doodling

I'm doodling about with a project. I should be packing, I'm going home tomorrow. Home, as in, the home I don't live in. But I'm excited - it's about cities, it's what I want to do.. It's Elemental.

More to follow.

Autumn dreams

Great big mounds of sand, light and fine. We're underground. I clamber to the cusp of the dunes and see the finest grains start trickling down the other side. My link to history is there. She looks at me from below, near her vehicle. The trickle of sand start to increase in volume, soon the whole surface is moving, sliding slowly, slowly down towards her. I stand there, calling to her, as the sand starts to settle around her and the vehicle - I can't see her any more! The vehicle is engulfed, a deepening of the sand where it is. What's happening - is she ok?

I'm in an underground space, ceiling above me grey and darkening. Lockers like those in a high school, but no, not exactly like that, stand in a corner of the vast space. She is here with me. I open a creaky door by unhooking a basic lock device. Fine sand lays in small dunes along the edges of the space, covering the edges of a big portfolio. I reach in and lift it out, balancing the handwritten notes inside carefully to the table. As I start to leaf through it I hear sounds, it's war out there beyond the walls. I hear something - he's coming, and I am both excited and ashamed to be going through these memories. Suddenly she and I look at each other and I hastily try to replace the portfolio in the locker, shutting the door loudly, engaging the locking device - it's not working now - oh no! He's in the room, large and frail. It's ok. He looks at me with the deepest clarity in his eyes, and I see him for the man he once was. I disengage the lock on the locker again and replace the portfolio on the table.

Marathon

A while back I committed to running the Barcelona Marathon on 7th March 2010. It sort of happened by itself.

My running buddy D, who was a friend of a friend and who decided that we should run together despite me hesitating, is from Girona. When we started running together nearly a year ago now, he lived 15 minutes away and we were both unemployed, and so it was easy to do. He was training for the 2009 version of the marathon and went on to successfully run it, in March last year. He kept challenging me to join him, or to consider another marathon, saying stuff like - you need to run a marathon, you're competitive, you ARE competitive.. as I would stress the fact that I took up running as a means to liberating myself from competition with (team)mates and to create a space where I could just be, just run.

I still see my running as a free space, but I am beginning to lump it into the "things I need to do" category, merely because it wouldn't otherwise happen, between travelling and working and doing various other projects.

I ran a couple of races this summer, enjoying myself along the way, and in particular my half marathon is something I'm very proud of. I ran those races for the sheer fun of it, to prove to myself that I, just me - ME!, could do it. And I did. I ran them all alone and achieved the results I wanted: satisfactory timings and a sense of pride and contentedness.

When D moved back to Girona this summer, I knew I was going to miss our running together, but also what had turned into a warm friendship. Him being a sports therapist, he would treat me for my sciatica, and I'd help him work on the website for his business. He'd make dinner, and we'd go for drinks, talking running and all the other stuff that happens in life. He became a good friend. So when he went back, the possibility of seeing him again in March to run together made so much sense that I said I'd do it. So now I am. And I've even been telling other people (even people at work, you fool!) that I'm going to go and I'm going to run it. It scares me to no end.

My main worries are these:

I won't take the time to train properly
I might have troubles with my sciatica (I need to have some treatment..)
I have no clue of proper marathon nutrition/hydration
My commitment isn't strong enough and I will waver

I'm excited too. This is what gets me going:

I'm going to bloody run a marathon!
I get to visit D in his home town
I get to run a marathon, my first, with D
If I can complete my training satisfactorily I'm sure I'll do great
The training will keep me fit and healthy

I haven't begun training properly, and as a matter of fact, I haven't been running as much as I usually would. I've just started a new job and a lot's going on in my life right now. So, this week I realised that there is not much more than 3 months to go, and I need to get me a running programme that I can then proceed to adjust, but at least I'll have one. I know for a fact that with my long hours at work it is difficult but possible to squeeze in runs, by taking TOIL in the morning, which I've been doing recently, and by going for a run before breakfast when away for conferences.

I've done the maths, and I've got 15 weeks from now to then. That's 3 months and 2 weeks. In the next month I'm going to India for 12 days (what am I going to do?! Can I run in 33 degrees?), and I'm going home for Christmas (the food will pose a challenge, but I did great with running last year so that might be ok). 15 weeks is about 3 weeks shorter than most marathon programmes will cover. I'm hoping that the fact that I've been running for well over a year (started properly in July of last year) will be a benefit.

This is going to be a (yet another) challenge over the next months.

I think I've delved enough into this for now, but will just share a sentence from a book I might need to buy:

"Marathoners battle the fiercest of foes: their own psyches".

status quo

We had wine and we had good times. It's remarkable how family members are so familiar, comfortable, easy, and at the same time so remote and self contained.

Most of the time I feel that I understand exactly what's going on, but then she heads off on some tangent (much like I have a tendency to do) and I sit, shaking my head and thinking, shit, I don't get this - what's she on about?!

But life moves.

It's an unsettling feeling to see someone you love in a place that you know she doesn't need to be in, somewhere that doesn't do her good. It makes her money, good money, it keeps her from thinking about all the things that would pop up if she were to stop op and give her life a thorough once-over. But it's hard work, life happens, and she justifies it happening to her by saying that she is making a choice to earn the good money (and she is) and ignoring the fact that she's, well, ignoring.

Sometimes I wish I didn't have this ability to see other people struggling. That I could also ignore and just get on with it.

A whirlwind brings me home, too fast, I wish I could stay on my bike, feeling the cold air, and hearing people look at me. The cherry trees are blooming, it's very confusing, here in late November. Buses and taxis flow by in a steady continuum, young girls show their belonging to different social arenas. Some flash all they've got in shiny sequined, skin tight, mini-what evers, others cover up in woollens from the 70s and wear the trilby, sign extraordinaire of a middle-class twat.

And I go home.