The Week After the Week That Was

I know I owe you all a love-life update but I ran outta time, so it will just have to wait! (And that sentence right there could quite possibly completely substitute for the update.)

After an action-packed week of the Boston Marathon (spectating, not running, for you new people out there), a fantastic 20-mile bike ride, and the Pike's Peek 10K...I'm a lost soul.

My beloved Speed Development Program held its awards banquet on Tuesday, and I was sad. I was sad because I didn't win a damn thing! To get a certificate suitable for framing you had to have decreased your pace at the Pike's Peek 10k by one minute over (under?) the pace group you were assigned to in January 2009.

I was in the 10:30 pace group.

My Pike's Peek pace: 10:38.

Not certificate-worthy!

It sorta kinda looks like I increased my pace by :08. Which is totally a lie. Even if technically true.

Sigh.

I really thought I was going to get the Spirit Award! Or the Showing Up Award! The Bravest??

I'm not bitter.

(I'm so bitter.)

I have no other road races planned. Just Nation's Oly tri in September, another Oly in August and a sprint in June.

So tonight I started toying with the idea of marathon training. It's just a phase, I think. I don't actually want to run another marathon, silly. Do I??

Meanwhile: Here's a good story. I only managed to get one swim in while in Boston last week, and man, was I fast!!! I finished 1500 yards in 30 minutes. Holy crap! Except...um...wait...a...minute.

As I climbed out of the pool, impressed with my prowess, I took a look back, squinting through my odd prescription goggles. And then took another look at my time. And then? I decided to ask the lifeguard that fatal question: Err, how long is this pool?

Answer: 20 yards.

As in: Not 25 yards.

As in 100 ≠ 4 laps.

As in 4 laps = 80.

Sigh.

And: I seem to have lost a bra somewhere between D.C. and Boston. No kidding. Not a regular one either. A specially-fitted one that cost a chunk of change!

I should have sewn my address into the label.

Boston Marathon 2009 Spectators' Report

I flew to Boston on Sunday to visit with ye olde college roommate, the photojournalist, Renee, and to catch Thomas and Ray in action on Monday, Patriot's Day, the 113th Boston Marathon.

After much texting and e-mailing back and forth about who would be where when [sample: Thomas: "What mile will we be at? Well, I'll start at mile 0 and will end at mile 26.2, visiting all the miles in-between in ascending order ...."; Ray: "No idea what pace aside from first wave. I’d guess though somewhere in the low 7’s seems like it’ll be fun and casual." SO VERY HELPFUL BOTH OF YOU], we decided on two viewing sites: first, between miles 13 and 14, and last, between miles 22 and 23.

We got there nice and early. Early enough to see this!

Elite women, mile 14ish

and this:
Marching people.

and this:

Team Noah was bookin' it.

and this:
#8858 Richard Whitehead, 32 M Nottingham GBR (in case you couldn't tell where he's from) 3:02:44 6:58 min./mile.*

As usual, I dressed for success:
Why won't people tell me I look crazy before I leave the house??? WHY??? Oh, and that's Davey the Clown standing with me. He has a rubber chicken sticking my leopard-begloved hand sticking out of his head, and yes, he is holding a rubber chicken, yet—somehow—I look like the crazy one.*

My only defense is that it was chilly and windy. Of course you won't believe me when you see the following photos.

I saw Thomas at both locations. He was in the zone at the first sighting, which he explains in his race report.

Both these guys had let me know what they'd be wearing. Thomas: "I'm planning on wearing a bright orange singlet with "Star of the Laune A.C." printed on it. It should be rather distinctive."

Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you Thomas?

I saw 10,000 orange singlets. OK, maybe they didn't all say "Star of the Laune A.C." on them. Luckily Renee has a keen eye.

I believe what Thomas was trying to convey here was the sense of the whole being greater than the parts.*

Or, maybe just ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch.*

Thomas was pulling down 6:50 minute miles. You know, the way you do in a marathon. If you are superhuman.

Ray, despite having let me know that he'd be wearing a BLUE singlet, eluded us. He was probably running backwards or something.

But eagle-eyed Renee caught Thomas again around mile 22ish:

Thomas reacts as he hears me screeching his name.*

He looks right as rain to me.*

Since I can count on exactly no hands the number of times an attractive young man has jumped out of a marathon to hug me, I was struck dumb. We communicated nonetheless. I highly recommend meeting someone for the first time this way.*

Ray was not far behind. In fact, he was exactly 11 seconds behind.

Ray takes time to tell me, "Jeanne, you're number one!"*

And...he takes my photo. One of 147 he will take along the course.*

My partners in crime:
l-r: Poor sad blog-less Bruce, Renee, Sarah

And after that I scurried downtown to meet Thomas, my camera ran out of batteries, I gave him some crappy fine, fine D.C. t-shirts, he gave me FINE CHINA from Ireland, I bought him some fried dough, we laughed, he cried, and then? He was gone.

There's more to this story but it will just have to wait.

Still to come: How Runner Susan saves Jeanne's love life.

*Photos courtesy Renee Dekona.

Headed for Boston

Yes, I'm heading for the Boston Marathon.

Did I forget to mention that?

I've been saying this all week at work, and some people actually thought I'd be running it. Oh, I crack myself up.

No, I'm going to watch D.C. Rainmaker and, from across the pond, Thomas from Diary of a Rubbish Marathoner, break the sound barriers. I hope to actually meet Thomas, cuz I have a few sweet presents for him from D.C. (sorry, Ray, don't be sad), and at least get good photos of both.

I'm staying with my college roommate and meeting a former work colleague, both of whom happen to be professional photographers. I will try to cajole them into taking photos for me, because mine will probably suck.

In other news, I failed to set any PRs this weekend. (I know, hard to believe, right?) Instead, I did a 6-mile preview run of next Sunday's Pike's Peek 10k, the target race for my speed development program. We met at 6:30 a.m. and ran down Rockville Pike, which has been described as "an asphalt jumble of car dealerships, strip shopping centers and fast-food restaurants," which is putting it kindly. It was gross.

I drove home, showered, changed, and raced up to Centennial Park, Columbia, MD, for D.C. Tri's annual brick-nic, which you may remember from last year.



I remember being on a hybrid bike last year and not being able to ride the full 17.5 miles. I remember walking up one hill. It was brutal.

This year I hung out with some New New triathletes and the memories came flooding back! All those worries about clipless pedals and flying downhill, riding in traffic, and falling over. Wait...that was just last week.

I could definitely see the difference in my fitness level. This year I did the full distance, managed all the uphills, and felt fine, even on not-so-fresh legs. Everything was perfect. Well, it would have been perfect if Henry Ford had never been born. I felt quite homicidal by the end of the ride because of the $#!@ cars that sped by every few seconds. I especially appreciated the pickups that drove close to me on purpose and then leaned on the horn. Helps to get the old heart rate up.

Since I had already run, I got to skip the Brick part of the Brick-nic, which is just as well, because I couldn't really stand up straight afterwards. All I can say is: Four months of spinning does not equal four months of cycling. Ah well.

The gang.


Modeling the latest in headbands.

Next: How Runner Susan singlehandedly changed my love life.