My Weekend: Part 1

I'm continuing to recover from last week's marathon, which has been great. I'm feeling well (ankle's still slightly wonky but almost back to normal) but waiting the recommended two weeks before running again. So far, I don't miss it! Here's what I did instead this weekend:

Those are seagulls. 

Mr. Grouch

A preview of part two:

Hanson Method Review

Continuing with our JEANO RAN A MARATHON coverage, I wanted to give the Hanson Method its own post. The Hanson Method was the unsung hero of Saturday's race. Yes, I put in a lot of work to get myself there, but without those crazy brothers I would undoubtedly have ended up

1) injured

2) hating running

3) dead

Okay, that last one may be a slight exaggeration.

As I've mentioned before, I chose to follow the Hanson Method without really knowing anything about it. The book was very convincing, but so are a lot of books. Their logic made a lot of sense, but so did "balancing humours" via blood-sucking leeches (!) at one time. I searched for bloggers who had followed the Hansons' plan to completion, ultimately in vain. Finally I decided to just go for it and see what happened. I would devote my body to science and prove, once and for all, whether the Hanson Method was to be trusted (I was obviously feeling a bit grandiose at the time).

So, now that all's said and done, did the Hanson Method do its job? Anyone who's read this blog for any length of time knows the answer (and if not, what's wrong with you?! I thought we were friends!), but to anyone who stumbled upon this thing by googling, oh, I don't know, "sexy jogging pics" (moving up in life!), the answer is a resounding YES. With one caveat.

The Hanson Method took my running to a whole new level. The runner I am now is unrecognizable from the runner who started this crazy plan 18 weeks ago. I went from someone who maxed out at 20-25 easy miles a week (because of chronic shin pain) to someone who can very comfortably run 50 miles in a week. I no longer consider running six days a week something that only dumb, obviously disordered runners do. In fact, it's not that hard! The gains I have made are, in every sense of the word, incredible.

Now for my caveat, which relates specifically to the marathon itself.

There is something to be said for the peace-of-mind that comes with running 20+ miles prior to race day. For someone who has completed a marathon before, I think the Hansons' program is excellent as is. As a newbie marathoner, however, I have to admit that I questioned my ability to complete the entire 26 miles more than a few times during my race.

There were a lot of unknowns that came with maxing out at 16 miles: how was my stomach going to take it, were my shoes going to fall apart/give me a stress fracture, was my body going to disintegrate at mile 20? These are questions all marathoners face to a certain extent, but I think that in my case the "what the hell's going to happen to me" factor was upped significantly (both because of my shorter long runs and my unorthodox shoes). Although it runs counter to one of the Hansons' central tenets, I think I could have used a few extra miles on my long run for sanity's sake.

Unrelated photo of my shoes because I cannot tolerate a post without pictures.

My suggestion would be that if you follow the Hanson Method and are worried about the length of the long runs, add a couple of miles on. The Hansons say that the damage outweighs the benefits after three hours of running, and yet my 16-milers took me around 2:45. Faster runners could easily run 18-20 miles without violating the three-hour rule. Plus, I very highly doubt there is a sort of "cliff" at three hours after which your body falls apart. Going ten minutes over shouldn't do any harm. Don't sue me if I'm wrong.

I have no idea what plan I'll end up using for my next marathon (you read it here first: next), but the only reason I wouldn't use Hanson Method again is if I decide I want variety; using the same plan time and time again is probably pretty boring. But, you know, old habits die hard.

Question: does anyone want to know anything else about the Hanson Method, or are we all Hanson-ed out?

My First Guest Post (No, Not Really, Don't Click Away!)

Workout: rest, until the end of time...

Okay, not really. But the Hansons have told me not to run for two weeks AFTER MY MARATHON (did I mention I ran a marathon?!) and since I have a hard time letting go, I'm still allowing them to boss me around. Also, "being smart" and all that.

Professor Amy was wondering how I spent the rest of the weekend post-race. I am nothing if not obedient (see above) so I shall oblige, but SPOILER ALERT: it's rather boring.

You see, I am not the kind of person who wants to go to brunch after a race. I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't want to celebrate. I just want to crash for hours and hours and hours, emerging from my cocoon days later when I'm fully restored/a beautiful butterfly. Or at least a few hours later.

I stayed at the race finish just long enough to pick up a shirt (it turns out finishers actually get a really nice long-sleeve technical shirt! I can't believe I bought one at the expo. Oh well, more for me!) before jetting out of there. No food, no attempt to find people I knew; I was done.

My parents were kind enough to drive me home and on the way, treated me to a Dairy Queen vanilla ice cream, my first calories after the race. That thing was heaven. Never mind the fact that it could have destroyed my insides (it didn't!); it was SO. GOOD.

That was all I got in me before passing out (okay, writing a blog post BECAUSE I'M A GOOD BLOGGER and THEN passing out), which meant I woke up many hours later half-crazed and ravenous. This meant one thing: pizza time. I got a pal to pick me up and drive us to a ("the," more like) local pizza joint, where I consumed my weight in chicken/bacon/ranch pizza. It was incredible and just what the doctor ordered. I chased my pizza with a couple of brews, although my tolerance was obviously affected by the marathon so I had to shut it down after two to avoid an overly-sloppy situation. And no, I wasn't wearing my medal. I would have liked to but I couldn't bring myself to be so open about my deep dark running secret. Plus, I would have been paranoid about people whispering about that douchebag in the corner wearing a medal.

I opted to go home straight after because I'm boring and wanted to sleep, but I ended up waking in the middle of the night going out of my mind with hunger. A bowl of cereal held me over until my morning pancakes, but I was a bit pangry for a while there.

I was pretty lazy on Sunday, as I felt was my right, but I was dragged to a dog show that was actually kind of hilarious. Also, I have a new best friend:

Jowls for miles

Sorry, make that two new best friends:

All the saggy wiener red-eyed basset hound things were wearing bonnets. I didn't get it, but I was overjoyed nonetheless.

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Amy also asked what my boss (who really did save my race) said to me at work today. Well, it was pretty much what you would expect ("Fancy seeing you out there!"), but it was fun to tell him I actually ran the marathon (he thought I was part of a four-person relay). I'm not one to insert running into every conversation so it actually only came up with one other coworker, but her constant "I can't believe you ran 26 miles" was fun.

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Finally, because Amy's basically drafted this post for me, my recovery!

My body feels great, for the most part. I was pretty sore yesterday (Sunday), but by this morning it had all but subsided. My legs feel surprisingly fresh and there's no hip/knee/shin/etc. aching whatsoever. I'm spry as a spring chicken! Well, except for my right ankle. I think the shifty gravel from miles 7-13 aggravated it because the inside wrist bone equivalent (does that even make sense?) is slightly bruised and swollen. There's some minor pain when I walk, but it's nothing major (hence, minor) and mostly goes away when I walk on it a bit. I'll definitely keep an eye on it, but I'm not too worried. And NO, COACH HOLLY, I WILL NOT RUN AGAIN UNTIL I'M COMPLETELY PAIN-FREE. I know you were worried.

It's funny how now that I've survived the race I don't really care what happens to my body. Like, come on, break everything, running gods! See if I care! Am I tempting fate here? Whatever, at least I made it to race day.

Questions:

• Do you ever experience bruising or swelling after a big race?
• What do you like to do when you're done? If I had traveled somewhere else to race I probably could have been forced to "do things," but I wouldn't have been happy about it. I like curling up in a ball for a while.
• WHAT DO I DO NOW? Just kidding. I've already got little runner thoughts swirling around in my head.

"It's Mostly Pictures, I Swear!" Mayor's Marathon Recap

When I started writing this recap, I included a promise to "keep it short." Well, as we all know, no blogger ever has been able to keep a marathon recap short and concise. I'm not even going to apologize for the length of my own because I DO WHAT I WANT! But don't freak out yet about how tiny your little scroll bar is - it's, like, 50% pictures, give or take 30%. Without further ado, Jeano's first (of many) posts about her dinky li'l marathon.

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So, remember when I was too cool for school and said I wasn't nervous about my race? Well, I should have held off on that post until the night before the race because I was REALLY NERVOUS. Like, could hardly eat my dinner nervous. Like, nauseous nervous. Like, on-the-verge-of-panic nervous. I'm such a liar.

I managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep before waking up at 5:00 am to force pancakes down my throat and have a nervous breakdown. It wasn't until I got to the race start that I finally chilled the eff out, which goes to show that the anticipation is often much worse than the task itself. As soon as I arrived at Bartlett High School, I was cool, calm, and collected. I hung out like the cool kid I am in the bathroom line until just before 8:00 am, and then we were off!

Cool kid. So innocent, so naive, so blissfully ignorant of how hard marathons are.

Taking into account the course profile,

my race plan was as follows:

1. Aim for a 9:44 pace for the first 15 miles, but recognize/be okay with the fact that you will likely be a few seconds slower than this. 
2. Make up for lost time on the steep descent from miles 15-17.
3. Run conservatively from miles 17-22.
4. Gradually increase speed from miles 22-24 and go hard the last 2.2 miles.

Let's use those conveniently-segmented steps to delve into the meat of this race.

1. Aim for a 9:44 pace for the first 15 miles, but recognize/be okay with the fact that you will likely be a few seconds slower than this.

The first few miles of the race run along the Glenn Highway, which is surprisingly scenic for a six-lane thruway. The path was slightly monotonous, but the honking cars added some excitement to what was to be a very spectator-light course. After we exited the highway, we spent the next few miles on a flat road that ran along two golf courses, which fortunately we didn't have to look at because, duh, golf courses are boring (my dad will disown me if he ever hears me say that).

During these miles I tried to settle into a quicker but natural and easy pace, which unfortunately was slower than what I had hoped "quicker but natural and easy" would be. The course profile on the race's website is a bit misleading, so although I knew these miles were gradually uphill, I thought we would gain about 250 feet over the first 15 miles. It was actually more like 700. The early miles didn't feel uphill, though, so the fact that my natural pace was tending towards 10:00 was slightly demoralizing. Unwilling to lose too much time so early in the race, I made an effort to keep it a bit faster than my body wanted.

9:53, 9:44, 9:47, 9:52, 9:41, 9:54

At this point in the race, I was getting passed by a lot of people. I never felt like I was racing against anyone but myself, though, so this didn't bother me. In fact, I suspected that many of these people didn't realize what lay ahead so I was pretty sure I'd see them again.

Around mile 7, we hit the infamous gravel, which also coincided with the start of some pretty significant hills. Even I, who read countless race reports, wasn't fully prepared for this section of the race. I knew there was gravel, but I wasn't expecting it to be as hilly as it was. During this section there was a lot of complaining, more than a few snide remarks about my how my shoes were totally inappropriate for this terrain, and hordes of people starting to walk. These walkers were extremely frustrating because they were all walking on the sliver of road with the least amount of gravel, which meant I was doing a lot of weaving and expending more energy than I would have liked. I'm not saying I wouldn't have done the same in their position, but it was pretty tiresome after a while.

9:54, 9:36, 9:43, 9:45, 9:58, 9:35, 9:57

Around mile 13, we crossed a very rickety bridge and entered the "trail" section of the course. I had to suppress more than one chuckle between miles 13-14, which was sort of steep and definitely not paved. I was able to run on this a few weeks ago, so I knew exactly what to expect. Other people most certainly did not. I only saw one other person run up the last hill to the high point of the course, and more than one runner was screaming bloody murder at the "nerve" of the race organizers for forcing this upon unsuspecting marathoners.

High point of the course! Great view, obviously.

Although I wasn't running as fast as I would have liked, I felt very strong and in control during these miles. I had done my research, I had run some hills, and I knew going in that it was likely to be a harder course than I suspected. Although the reality of running on that gravel was more difficult than I had realized, I feel like mentally I was much more prepared than most of the people around me. And honestly, as mean as it sounds to... take pleasure? from someone else's pain, seeing them struggle while I was still feeling good undoubtedly made this section easier for me.

10:01 (up to the top!), 9:32

2. Make up for lost time on the steep descent from miles 15-17.

At mile 15, I finally allowed myself to turn on my music. I was back in familiar territory, didn't really have to worry about moose/bears, and I was pretty sure things were about to get tough.

Well, things totally got tough. Downhill running is no joke, y'all. For me, this descent was much harder than any of the climbing that preceded it. The fact that people were still walking tells me I wasn't alone in thinking this. Sure, I was running faster, but I wasn't feeling particularly good. At mile 16 I had that inevitable thought of, "We have 10 more miles of this" which, combined with the fact that I hadn't run more than 16 miles in over a year, was a pretty serious downer.

9:30, 9:42

3. Run conservatively from miles 17-22.

I was still Mopey McGee when I reentered civilization at mile 17, but there were small groups of spectators along this section, which helped a bit. Most helpful was seeing this incredibly sweet woman for the third time of the race. She somehow managed to pop up in places I believe far too distant from each other/largely inaccessible via normal means, which is my way of saying she was my magic witch guardian. When I saw her, I turned my music down, said "I feel like this is the third time I've seen you!", and her response of "Yes it is! You look faster every time I see you!", although a lie, propelled me through the next mile or so...

9:45, 9:44

... until I hit mile 20.

At mile 20, I came to an area entirely too familiar to me. I had been wondering whether I would welcome or curse this familiarity, and unfortunately the reality was the latter. Suddenly, my beloved power jams seemed more like elevator muzak, my handheld water bottle weighed a million pounds, my sports beans tasted like, I don't know, let's say poo, I was hot, sweaty, and bothered, and, screw it, I was going to walk. Although walking certainly wasn't what I meant by "run conservatively."

BORING.

At mile 21, I told myself, I was going to give myself AN ENTIRE SONG to walk and do whatever I damn well pleased. I'd earned it! I was totally going to use those 3-4 minutes to regroup and then bust out a mind-blowing last 5 miles, by which I actually mean I was going to be doing a lot of walking. Once I start walking in a race, it's over.

As if on cue, I suddenly saw a horde of angels my boss and his cheer squad. My boss is the best person ever, and since I hadn't mentioned the race to any coworkers out of fear that I'd end up unable to run, it was doubly exciting. I was doused by someone with a hose, which was literally the best thing ever, refused a delicious-looking watermelon treat (I wasn't really in the mood to consume anything), and then surprised my boss with a "Hey, name-removed-for-privacy-reasons!" After yelling my name a few times in surprise, he blasted a tune on his tuba as I ran off.

I didn't ask any of my friends to watch me race because I know that to non-runners, race spectating (especially that early in the morning) is incredibly boring. I didn't realize what a huge boost seeing people you know can provide, though. I am not even remotely kidding when I say that seeing them saved my race. I blazed past the mile 21 sign without realizing it and was shocked when I was suddenly done with mile 22. I was back, baby!

10:11, 10:12, 9:57

4. Gradually increase speed from miles 22-24 and go hard the last 2.2 miles.

It turns out that boost didn't last forever. I had done a reasonably good job of following my race plan up to this point, but at mile 22 there was no turbo speed switch, as I had hoped there would be. To my mind, four miles was nothing, but to my legs it was everything. I tried, but I felt I had very little left to give.

Everywhere I looked, people were walking. Whereas earlier in the race this had motivated me, now it was seriously bringing me down. There was a lot of, "They're walking, so why can't I?!" I hadn't looked at my watch in a while but I was fairly certain a 4:15 was off the table. I started thinking that it wouldn't be so bad to end up with a 10:00 average, which would likely allow me to walk for a bit and take it easy.

But then shit got real and I gave myself a serious talking to. I was tired, yes, and I didn't think I had any turbo speed left in me. But I could most certainly keep running; I wasn't too tired for that. I just didn't feel like it. I knew that stopping to walk would be a huge disservice to myself and, really, to the Hanson Method, which had prepared me so excellently for this very moment. Lecture over, I kept chugging along.

9:40, 9:56, 10:26, 10:24

Around mile 25.8, I knew I was close. I only had one more song, and then it would be over. I skipped whatever song was playing, and Kanye's Power came on. Perfect. I was going to sprint my little heart out up that last hill, which was a walker wasteland, and not stop sprinting until I crossed that finish line.

This plan worked perfectly, minus the very last tenth of a mile when I was seriously struggling not to puke everywhere.

Jamming to Kanye or suppressing vomit - take your pick!

Repeat.

Success.

And now for picture overload.

"You ran HOW many miles?"

"My chauffeur needs to hurry it up already."

My medal is larger than your medal because it's the LARGEST MEDAL EVER.

Official (gun) time: 4:20:15

Official Jeano (net) time: 4:19:40

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting to finish faster. Rationally, I knew that first-time marathoners often underestimate how long it will take them to finish, and I knew that it was entirely possible I'd finish a good 10-15 minutes slower than planned. But despite acknowledging that I might need to reevaluate my goals, I really did think I had 4:15 in the bag.

That's not to say I'm disappointed with my time. Far from it. Given the somewhat unexpected difficulty of the course, I'm really happy with how it turned out. But after zeroing in on 9:44 pace for the past four months, finishing with a 9:50 (by my watch) was a slight blow to my ego. Fortunately, it could have been so much worse. Given my tendency to walk during races, finishing my very first marathon without doing so is definitely something to be proud of.

Plus, I was kind of blown away by my stats:

I mean, I didn't break any world records or anything, but I did all right. I consider myself a middle-to-back-of-the-pack runner, so finishing in the top fifth for women and the top fourth for my age group is kind of remarkable. Sorry, that sounds incredibly arrogant but it's true! Don't think less of me for being happy with myself.

Thank you ALL for your encouragement throughout my training. I've mentioned before that I don't really talk about running in my normal life because I know so few runners, so blogging about this has really done me a lot of good. I was definitely thinking about you guys during the race.

More on all-things-marathon later in the week!

BAMF (Subtitle: I Ran a Marathon This Morning)

Workout: 26.2 miles, motherf-cker!

BAMF. Seconds from the finish line. Thanks, sunglasses, for giving me that fashionable pouf in my hair. And thanks, gels and phone, for making me look like I stuff my bra.

Let's make a list:

1. I DID NOT WALK. I was oh-so-close at mile 20, but then I saw my tuba-playing boss and his sprinkler-holding assistant, which totally saved my race.
2. After the first seven miles or so, I wasn't passed by a single person. Not a one!
3. I did not hit "the wall." I was tired as shit, but I managed.
4. I executed a pretty flawless race, if I do say so myself. I was dragging towards the end, but for the most part was totally in control.
5. While I still think the gravel situation was overstated in the race reports I read, it did take more out of me than I thought it would. Even harder, though, was the two-ish mile descent that followed.
6. I really didn't think I could push any harder at the time, but given how fast I ran up the hills just before mile 26 (and the fact that I was the only person running them), I guess I could have given it more.
7. I didn't have to break into my emergency Imodium! Except, OF COURSE, I spent the very last tenth of a mile "coughing," by which I mean trying to keep my water/gel/sports beans down in front of hundreds of people. The second I crossed the finish line, it came up. I'd call it less "vomit" and more "spittle," though. You're welcome for that. Let's hope the finish line photo catches that beauty.
8. I wish it had been 10 degrees cooler and cloudy. However, we got pretty lucky weather-wise.
9. My shoes performed like the champs they are.
10. I'm going to go lie down and let my body necrotize.

Wearing a Race Shirt Before Race Day: Yay or Nay?

Workout: 5 miles, 10:50 average, Pace Gloves

I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the U.S. not watching the basketball game right now. In fact, I didn't even know there was a basketball game on until I heard about it on the radio while on my way to the expo. I did hear some yelling and screaming coming from, like, all my neighbors when I was walking Bailey, though. SPOILER ALERT: something exciting obviously happened.

Going to the expo during the game was a really good choice. I'm pretty anti-expo (too much squealing and jazz hands for this gal), but I was able to get in and out of there in roughly five minutes. I even bought a t-shirt!

It says 40th Mayor's Marathon. And it's got a picture of the sun for the solstice. And a mountain because, duh. We really need to talk about those shorts sometime because I lurrrve them. Moving Comfort momentum shorts. They should probably give me money for saying that.

I'm pretty sure runners get a cotton shirt at the race finish, but I read somewhere that by the time middle-to-back-of-the-pack marathoners finish, they're usually out of all the normal sizes (lame!). Plus, my mom picked up a long-sleeve tech shirt for me my first time around and we've been inseparable ever since.

An excuse to post hiking pictures?! Don't mind if I do! Hanging Valley, summer 2009.

The shirt says ALASKA: Land of the Midnight Run. O'Malley Peak, summer 2009.

They were selling a short-sleeve neon green version of my ALASKA shirt, but that was just a bit much for me. I settled on what ended up being a shirt almost the exact same color as the one I already have. But hey, at least it's not purple!

As for my free swag, here's the first picture:

And the second picture:

...

Oh, wait, there isn't another picture because that's it. It was definitely less than I was expecting, but I don't race for the swag anyway. I just thought it was funny.

As you can see, I'm runner 638. I'll probably end up posting a quick "OMG I FINISHED/FAILED/DIED" blurb before the results go up, but if not and you've got nothing better to do on a Saturday night, by all means, look me up! You can also use it to figure out my super awesome last name.

Fortunately, the chip timer thing is IN the bib this year so I don't have to worry about forgetting it again. I ALSO found out that they use gun times and not chip times as official times DESPITE THE FACT THAT WE'RE ALL USING CHIP TIMERS. That makes no sense and also makes me a little mad. But whatever. I'll just pretend I didn't cross the starting line until an hour after the gun goes off.

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Tomorrow is my very last run (3 miles) before the race! I think I'm going to wear my new shirt. Is that bad juju? I've seen TONS of people wear race shirts on race day, which I think is really bizarre, so I'm going to go ahead and say this is okay.  Send a runner emergency squad if I'm wrong about this.

Question: 

• Can I wear my new shirt before the race? Do you ever do this?
• What kind of swag usually comes with a race entry? I can't remember.

Not Exactly a Rah-Rah Post

Tuesday workout: rest
Wednesday workout: 6 miles, 12:00 average, treadmill, socks

I ran before work this morning, which is highly unusual. I despise waking up even a second earlier than I have to, but I figure that if I'm running all three days before my marathon, it makes sense to run earlier as opposed to later (so I don't end up doing my last run only 15 hours before the race). It wasn't the worst thing I've ever done, but it certainly wasn't the best.

The legs are feeling pretty good right now. I didn't experience any fatigue during my run, although I don't have a lot of pep yet either. I do think I'll be in perfect shape come Saturday.

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Here it is, my first vlog!!! A video of my moose friend and her new bff, the sprinkler.

  
Embedding a video is surprisingly easy, although it's preventing me from formatting the rest of the post. The horror!!! You'll have to deal with un-justified text for today.

Okay, it's not really a vlog, as Professor Amy pointed out. But whatever, it's a video on a blog. I was going to post one with my uproarious commentary*, but I decided not to subject you to my loud, obnoxious voice. You're welcome.

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I think I'm still somewhat in denial about the fact that I'm running a marathon on Saturday. So far, there's been no panic, no (more than usual) sleepless nights, no restlessness. Whenever I think about the race, the first thought that pops into my head is, "Huh. How 'bout that?"

This somewhat indifferent attitude towards racing isn't a new thing. In fact, I haven't really experienced much nerves or excitement since my second half marathon. I honestly have no idea what changed. One day, I just decided it all wasn't that big of a deal.

This attitude works both in my favor and against me. On the one hand, it certainly makes race day more pleasant, and I think we can all agree that we shouldn't beat ourselves up over missed goals. But on the other hand, it also means I tend to lack that extra motivation to push myself. I've gone into a few races with pretty lofty goals and, despite having put a lot of effort into training for and ultimately falling short of these goals, haven't been all that upset about it. And honestly, I think that knowing I wouldn't be that upset about it had something to do with failing in the first place.

I'm not trying to say I'm going to fail on Saturday [side note: I'm pretty sure coach Holly's shaking her head pretty aggressively at me right now]. In fact, I think I'll do quite well-the Hansons definitely helped strengthen my mental game by forcing me to run farther when I really didn't think I could. I just worry that I won't give it everything I'm capable of.

Things may be different this time around because it's my first marathon. Multiple viewings of Spirit of the Marathon may also help. Any other tips?

This isn't your typical pre-race pump-up post, is it? Huh. Well, if you want to take away a deep and meaningful message from it, I guess I'd conclude that to me, the journey is more important than the marathon itself.

* and by uproarious commentary I mean squeals of joy followed by screams of terror as the moose appears to move towards me.

Questions:

• Do you freak out about racing, or are you more relaxed about it?
• Do you beat yourself up if you don't reach your goals?
• Any good running movie suggestions? Anything but Chariots of Fire, that is. That movie did NOT do it for me.

Unexpected Guests

Workout: 5 miles, 10:45 average, Pace Gloves

We had some surprise guests during Father's Day dinner yesterday so I thought I'd share.

Damn sun washing out my shot.

It was hilarious. Mama moose was standing directly in the sprinkler (not pictured) for at least three hours. She and the little 'uns looked a little shell-shocked, probably from the heat. She also left a pile of hair behind (that the little 'uns are sitting in below) that feels like straw. Strange creatures.

I took a couple of videos that I attempted to post because that's how much I care about y'all, but I don't think it's going to work. Oh well. Someday you'll get a Jeano vlog (that's what a vlog is, right? A video posted on a blog?). That someday may be tomorrow.

Two More DON'Ts and Your Alaska Scenery Fix

Friday workout: 6 miles, 11:52 average, Pace Gloves

Saturday workout: 8 miles, 10:20 average, Pace Gloves

Sunday workout: 5 miles (planned)

I'm glad you guys enjoyed my disastrous Mayor's (half) Marathon experience from another runner lifetime, but I totally forgot to tell you the funniest part! Two addenda to the DON'T list:

DON'T let your mom accidentally sign you up for the wrong race.

As I mentioned, I wasn't even going to race because I was sick and hadn't trained for it. Once my mom told me how disappointed everyone in her office would be to hear I DNSed (what? Why do these people know who I am?), though, I reluctantly agreed to do it on the condition that she go to the expo and register me (I hate expos). She kindly went in my stead and got me registered.

When she told me how much I owed her for the race entry, I was surprised it was so expensive but since I was a race newbie didn't think much of it. I also didn't think much of the fact that my bib said "marathon" on it. The race is called Mayor's Marathon so I assumed all bibs said "marathon" on them.

No. Wrong. Way wrong. Yet another demonstration of my complete lack of common sense.

We were hanging out by the half start the morning of the race (the half starts a couple of hours later and in a totally different location than the marathon) and literally 30 seconds before I had to line up, my dad suddenly goes, "Why is your sign a different color than everyone else's? And why does everyone else's say 'half' on it? Oh my god, YOU'RE SIGNED UP FOR THE MARATHON."

F-ck. With those parting words, I headed off to crash my first race. Looking back, though, I hope people were more sympathetic when they saw me walking later in the race, assuming I had just run 20+ miles instead of 8.

If all that wasn't enough (it most definitely was), here's one more DON'T:

DON'T neglect to attach your chip timer to your shoe because you don't know what it is.

I'm not even kidding. I don't know when chip timing was invented, but the only other race I'd ever done (the inaugural Middlebury Maple Run, earlier that year) hadn't used it. When my mom gave me my stuff, she told me I needed to make sure I had ______ with me on race day, but she couldn't remember what it was she had been told I needed. I also saw the chip in my goodie bag (it was the kind you loop around your shoelace) but totally ignored it. Again with the common sense, Jeano!

I don't even know that my time would have been counted since I was running the wrong race, but in any case my final time according to my Timex was somewhere around 2:15 (I was aiming for 2:00), which I didn't exactly want to be broadcast to the world. Thus, I suppose it was all for the better. That's also why, if you were to try to find my name in past years' results, you wouldn't be able to.

And now that I'm cracking up at these newly resurfaced memories, let's move on.

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This ridiculously nice (but toasty!) weather we've been having continued into the weekend. The forecast has us at a high of 86 tomorrow which, surprisingly, is the same as the highest temperature ever recorded in Anchorage (in 1993, I believe?). We'll see if it manages to get up that high. As of right now, Saturday's weather is looking pretty decent, but I don't want to say any more about it in case I jinx it.

I ran in a beautiful place yesterday. I was tired of the same ol' and wanted to check out a path I remember biking on a few years ago that runs parallel to the Seward Highway south of Anchorage. I didn't remember having to drive 15-20 miles out of town to access it, but in the end it was worth it.

This is turning into a pretty word-heavy post so I'll let the pictures do all the talking:

You throw railroad tracks in any picture and it's going to be a win. #lifetipsfromJeano

 So lush and mosquito-filled!

And let's not forget the real beauties of this run...

My shoes, not my freak tan. I'm so obsessed with this color scheme. Usually the presence of "primary red" is a no-go in my fashion book (which would be approximately half a page long if it existed), but I think it works here. These colors are only sort of true to life (let's pretend the same is true of my tan).

I know, I know, I'm so lucky to live in such a beautiful place. Feel free to spew jealousy all over the comments. Speaking of which, there's been a spambot invasion recently. I'd reinstate a word verification system, but a) I always get those wrong and if I can't do something, I certainly can't expect you to, and b) I find the spambot comments to be hilarious. I'll reconsider if things get too out of control.

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Quick weekly round-up:

Monday: 9 miles with 6 x 1 miles

Tuesday: rest

Wednesday: 12 miles with 10 tempo

Thursday: 6 miles, easy

Friday: 6 miles, easy

Saturday: 8 miles, LR pace (10:20)

Sunday: 5 miles, easy (planned)

Total: 46 miles

46 miles the week before a marathon, huh? I can't claim that I feel "recovered" and "ready to race," but we've got another five days for semi-reduced mileage to work its magic.

Happy Fathers' (Father's?) Day!