Back to the mill...

"TRAIN YOUR MIND, and YOUR BODY WILL FOLLOW."

"OMG.  Have I really only gone 6.9 miles? It feels like 30.  Why is this so hard?  I am not even going that fast?" I think, looking out the window at the same tree that has been in my eye line for the past forty-five minutes.  "And, why, oh why is it so flippin' hot in here?" I ask myself as I glance for the five bazillionth  time up at the ceiling fans just to make sure that they are in fact still on.  As I turn a wave of sweat pours from my ponytail soaking the person on the treadmill to my left.  I smile sheepishly at him,  "so sorry," I say.  He shrugs it off like a good sport even though he must be grossed out.
  My first run of the season back on the treadmill and wow is it torture.  How did I do this every day last winter and into the spring s effortlessly?  How did I train for Miami, build speed and get through this without complaining last year?  Will I be able to do it again?  I smile as I realize once again my mind is overtaking my body and nudge the mph's up a touch.  "Whatevs, take that." I think.  I plug along for another mile or so with confidence focusing on the motion of my body, striking down evenly with each leg, landing softly and quickly on the ball of each foot and springing quickly off of my toes.  Elbows tucked, moving front to back, fingers open.  I find my rhythym and begin to zone out...until I notice someone lurking suspiciously to my right side.  I glance over, and notice the girl squinting to make out my stats.  "Ugh, a screen-spyer.  The absolute worst thing about running inside."  I smiled, trying my hardest to make this look effortless, nudge the speed up a few more notches and hit the screen to hide my speed, time and distance.  I look again to the window and think about inside vs. out.  As a trainer we are taught...cardio machines lie.  They over exaggerate distance, and calories burned.  They are purposely easier than running outside, in fact in order to make the two somewhat even, you are told to elevate the treadmill to at least a 1.0 percent grade.  It is a mind game.  Then I stop and think for a minute.  It is a mind game.  It is training your mind, maybe the way I was able to run for twenty-two miles straight with the same view last winter was because my mind was trained for it.  I giggle out loud and my poor neighbor looks at me curiously.  "I'm out of shape." I think, "I can't believe I let myself get out of shape!"  By anyone else's standards they would most likely think I was insane, as I typically run sixty plus miles a week, spend six hours spinning and weight training, swim for three, and work on agility and core for about four, but I am out of mind shape!  I giggle again as the treadmill begins to slow down and I let my legs elongate through their final strides, cooling down and stretching simultaneously.  The belt comes to a stop and I glance around making sure no one is "spying" as I look at my stats.  Hit my mileage and in a good time...although it feels like the opposite.  I sigh, as I wipe down the sweat infused machine.  "okay, here we go... I will get there again, my mind will toughen up."  I walk away from the machine and smile at the person waiting to get on, who looks absolutely miserable.  "It's all yours!"

Chicago 10/10/10

   I look to my left..."Oh!  There's the girl I chased for bit in New York last fall, God she was fast," I think.  I recognize her from her signature American Flag hair clips.  I sigh, feeling my heart racing inside my chest and look to my right, "and there are those twins...they are intense.  They crushed Miami."  I hop gingerly from right foot to left, trying to figure out if one more stride will be too much before completing the next 26.2 in the Windy City.  I sure wish there was some wind today.  At 7:16 am it is 68 degrees...and is predicted to hit 90 by 11:00.  Twenty feet in front of me are the pros.  The Kenyans, the Ethiopians, and most impressive to me, Joan Benoit Samuelson.  I shut my eyes and breathe..."just another run, just another run.  I am on Milestone...26.2 no sweat."
"SO," a twenty-something guy comes up next to me, "what are you aiming for today?" he asks, and "Can I buy you a beer after?" He smiles arrogantly.
For REAL guy?  The only thing I am doing after this race is running to the hotel, jumping in the shower and getting on a plane back to my two minis...my daughters, Bailey and Mayson.  I smile back dissmissively, "I would love to run a sub-3 today." I respond.
"That's it?  How did you get in elite development with that goal?  I am going for a 2:30, when I pass you I'll pull you back." Again, the arrogant smile.
ASS.  I shrug and look away.  Yes, I somehow made my way into the big league starting area...and yes, these people are about to smoke me, but I have my goals and am going to enjoy this run.
    The National anthem begins and I look to the flag. I think of my minis far, far away.  I wonder what they are doing.  I know they are thinking of me and thinking I am going to win the race.  They are my biggest fans and biggest supporters, and I remind myself...I am here for them as much as I am here for myself.  They will be so happy to have another finisher's medal, another silver magic cape, and to hear the story about the path to the finish.  They have patiently waited throughout my training...waited while I ran 15, then 18, then 22, then 24 mile runs each weekend, and are home now waiting for me to run 26, to finish and to come home.  The anthem finishes and the energy is palpable.  I can feel the nerves from the guy next to me, the girl behind me and others as they start to jump from foot to foot.  I lift my wristo to my lips and kiss my "magic" silly bandz, a tortoise and a hare...to remind me that fast is pretty bc it's pink, but the green tortoise who stays slow and steady, focused on the goal ahead will prevail.   "ok minis...here we go." I whisper.
  The gun goes off and the rush towards the starting line is like one of the giant waves hitting the South Shore.  I refuse to be swallowed up and push my way forward.  My heart races and almost overtakes my stride.   The first mile in any race, is where I inevitably experience a small panic attack, which has been known at times to overtake me. "Calm down, calm down, breathe." I think.  Usually I would settle into my ipod and relax...but in this race ipods are banned.  No music for 26.2.  I look at th buildings ahead of me and focus on the rhythym.  Instead of music...I focus of the music of the feet.  Thousands of them hitting the black pavement.  "thump, thump, thump, thump."  It is oddly soothing and my heart slows.  I feel my arms start to swing front-to-back and settle in.  Cool.  Mile 3.  Cool.  Here we go.

Two and a half hours later with the sun beating down like a day in late July on Nantucket, I pass mile 21.  I look at my Garmin.  This is the point.  I know it's not going to happen.  I won't go sub-3 today.  5.2 miles to go. The disappointment creeps into my mind and I begin to wonder what to do...the cramping in my quads began miles ago...due mostly to heat and dehydration, and I begin to think about how easy it would be to stop.  Just walk...just for a minute.  I know if I do I won't start again.  I think of Nantucket, my home and how many fellow runners and triathletes are out running right now.  What they would do and how they would respond.  I think of a fellow Nantucketer who is at this moment recovering from competing in a FULL Ironman in Kona the previous day.  He had to do a 2.5 mile swim, a 100-something bike ride and THEN run a marathon.  Suck it up Toombs I think, referring to myself in my head as my maiden name...making me think of my high school lacrosse friends, they are tracking me online as we speak.  I can't let them down.  I can't let the triathletes down, I can't let myself down, and of course I can't let the minis down.  I shut it out and keep pounding.

I see a man ahead of me, begin to slow. "I can't, " he says, "it's too hot." No way, I think.  I jog up next to him and say, "come on...30 minutes on a treadmill, that's all we have.  Keep it up." I point ahead to the crowd on the sideline.  There are people with hoses spraying the runners ahead.  He smiles at me and picks up the pace.  We laugh for a minute and head for the water.  I raise my beloved garmin above my head and run through the spray...God that feels amazing.  It is HOT.  Mile 25.  1.2 to finish.  The many and i move along side one another, not talking, not thinking, just running.  I feel the love of the sport and hear the roars of the crowd as we reach the final markers.  We cross up a bridge and building off one another, we pick up the pace slowly, 400 m to go.  He looks at me and smiles.  The finish is in sight.  I move my legs and pump my arms.  NOW, I think...I have to beat this guy!  I move faster and faster, but so does he.  We race towards the finish and the roar of the crowd picks up..."what a finish!  Keep it up!  SO strong!" I hear.  Right leg, left leg, across the line...I push through the finish one second before my friend.  He smiles one last time at me, we high five and disappear into the crowd.  3:04:07.  Not a PR, not my best, hey it's actually my worst marathon time yet, but what a run.  I grab a bottle of water and my medal, give a quick stretch and head to my hotel to get in the shower, back to the airport and back to my minis.