I mentioned in a previous entry that I would put an update here on how my meditation practice was going. I have continued to meditate about five days out of seven, usually twenty minutes at a time, but a few times doing thirty. I do the usual shtick: I sit on a zafu cushion, close my eyes, listen to a calming background noise via the Brain Wave app on my iPhone, and try to think of nothing until the program turns off. I have three ways of doing this:

1) Breathe in for a count of four, and then breathe out for a count of four.

2) Do a chakra meditation. I can’t remember where I read about this, but you imagine light (or energy, or the universe, or whatever) pouring into your body, and it lights up your first chakra, which is red and sits at the root of your spine, then the second chakra, which is orange and is roughly where your internal genitals are, then the third… There are seven spots, not hard to learn them, and they follow the colors of the rainbow.

3) Do a verbal chant, such as “Ooooooommmmmm” on the out breath.

Why do I do these funky (and quite frankly, extremely Californian) meditations?

Because they allow me to empty my mind and only focus on that one thing. It’s almost impossible for my mind to wander if I’m fixated on visualizing lights of various colors lighting up through my body. I don’t actually feel any different when I visualize an area lighting up with energy, but I sure can’t think about anything else. (I have a very strong visualization muscle–I really “see” things when I imagine.) And if I spend time focusing on my body, I will relax the various areas as I go through them.

With the “Om” I don’t believe it’s really the sound from the birth of the universe, or whatever it’s supposed to be. (Sorry: am card-carrying atheist.) Chanting that sound just massages my body from the inside, being both soothing and tingly at the same time. Seriously, take a moment right now (possibly in your bathroom or your closet or something where no one will hear you) and say “Oooooommmmmm” a couple of times, really letting it reverberate through you. Doesn’t that feel wonderful? Now imagine it saying it for twenty minutes straight. You’ll feel like you got a tummy massage.

Our brains don’t want to calm down. Meditation is you learning how to take control of your mind. When your mind wanders onto thoughts of what you should be doing or your shopping list, a great technique to deal with it is just say “Thoughts, thoughts” and dismiss them. Or, if like me, your mind wanders to fantasies about what you should have said to the rude salesclerk or what life would be like living in a fabulous Paris apartment, say “Fantasy, fantasy” and get back to the whole breath-counting thing. I can fantasize any time (and if you know me, you know I probably am). There’s plenty of time during the day to fantasize about my Parisian castle while standing in line at a store to buy that thing I didn’t buy from the rude salesclerk.

What’s the point of all this sitting in place and counting breaths and quieting the mind?

I have no idea.

But it feels awesome.

On days when I don’t meditate, I can feel it. I start feeling antsy. I crave those minutes of just sitting there and doing nothing.

I don’t think it’s improved me as a person yet: I haven’t had any spiritual experiences, I haven’t heard a small internal voice telling me what I should do with my life, and I’m not noticeably calmer during the day (I think). But that twenty or thirty minutes of sitting with myself has really helped me say, “You know, taking a little time just for myself and quieting my mind is worthwhile.”

So, of late I’ve become a big proselytizer for taking up a meditation practice. I guess I should put up some links here for places you can check out for more info, but frankly, all you need is ten minutes and a willingness to give it a shot. Honestly, it’s really as wonderful as all the propaganda has made it out to be.

(Nina tells all on her blog here. Also, she has pictures and I don’t. Check out the arms on the chick she was running with!)

I did it! I did a marathon in almost 5 hours exactly, which was my prediction. I ran 26.2 miles/42 km and I ran the whole way! (Not that I have ANYTHING against doing a walk/run combo–that totally works as a strategy. But I knew for me that if I started walking…I wouldn’t start again.) We did the Inaugural Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon!

Leading up to the race, my two biggest fears were that I wouldn’t get any sleep at all…and that I’d sleep right through my alarm. So I set 3 different ones. Last night I told kids they had to turn off tv and lights at 10. I said, “You can stay up all night every night the rest of the trip. Tonight you need to go to bed now.” You would have thought I said, “By the way, it’s time to go work the coal mines of Numidia.” However, they were asleep in seconds.

Then, at 11, the world’s loudest motorcycles went by, blasting Michael Jackson–the rarely seen Double Fail.

I woke up before any of my alarms and set about getting ready: went to get a bucket of ice, mixed the Cytomax, set up my Camelbak, took my preventative 4 ibuprofen (I would eat 4 more during the race), got my running number ready, grabbed my iPhone, and headed out to meet Nina at the Westin Hotel, where shuttles were taking runners out to Tukwila, the starting point for the race. I was surprised when I left the hotel, shortly before 5am, because while it was cold, it wasn’t that cold. I said, “This is going to be a nice run.”

We got out to Tukwila, where it became rapidly evident that, yes, a town’s worth of people were about to run a race. It definitely felt like the Bay to Breakers, because it was just a sea of people. (And when we were lined up, ready to be let loose, it really felt like the B2B, because of the sea of humanity.) The weird thing is that, as the sun started to come up, the temperature kept getting colder. Nina and I were huddling together, unwilling to take off our outer layers until the very last moment.

Nina and I were far enough back in the sea of runners (Corral 25) that we didn’t cross the start line until 40 minutes after the first runners, or in layman’s terms “right around when somebody was probably winning the damn thing.”

(Right as we passed the start line, my Polar watch went kablooey—the screen fizzed out, it lost all of its settings, and it basically went haywire. I spent the first mile trying to reset everything on the run (rimshot). I have no idea if it just picked the worst time in the world to do that, whether all the other Polar watches interfered, or there was something about the load of electronics at the start that made it go nuts.)

The marathon was run really well. There were Cytomax/water stations every 1.5 or 2 miles, with tons of people handing runners cups as we went by, and 3 Gu stations. (Gu is a thick sugar food supplement—not unlike cake frosting, actually—that runners and other athletes use to get fast, easily digestible calories.) Lots of people came out to cheer the runners on, with massive enthusiasm. Certainly more enthusiasm than I’d show for someone else’s marathon. The bands were probably pretty good, but we only got to hear every band for 20-45 seconds as we ran by, so I can’t tell you which one was my favorite. It was nice hearing bone-rattling music as we passed by though.

And we could not have asked for better weather. Perfect temperatures, clear skies, no breeze. Exactly what we wanted when we signed up to run in Seattle.

The first 10 miles were great, running through Tukwila (which was kinda boring, sorry, Tukwila), but ending up in residential neighborhoods and parks overlooking the lake.

At about mile 10 the half-marathoners split off from the marathoners, and we ran over the floating bridge, which allowed us to do such things as gaze at Mt. Rainier. Then we rejoined the half-marathoners for a long run through a freeway tunnel, which was unpleasant on so many levels: smells, light level, sound level, claustrophobia induction. (We ended up running through two more tunnels as well, which was really not very much fun. You ever read The Stand? Yeah. It was like that.)

Nina and I disagreed about who was driving whom: she kept saying I was making her run faster, and I kept wondering who in the hell was the one who kept speeding up into hills because they felt so good on her legs. (No, seriously, I run with a woman who speeds up into hills. I can’t decide which one of us is crazier.) On hills I found myself mentally chanting either “I know I can, I know I can,” or “I can run faster than Nina can,” which never made me run faster than her but did seem to work at keeping me within a few meters of her at all times.

At mile 13.1 we stopped to eat energy bars. “I’m sore,” I said, “but I’m not hating life.” I felt pretty good, in fact. I knew the tough part was going to be mile 20 and beyond, since the longest run I’d done was one mile.

We ran down a freeway into Seattle City Center, which was pretty cool: this mass of people descending on Seattle. We split up from the half-marathoners again, this time at Qwest Field (because they had to “cross the finish line”), and we began what I would have to describe as the long, hard, unpleasant section, not only because it was the final 12 miles, but because it was all concrete. (See below.) The medical teams started giving out packets of salt, which Nina started hoovering up due to cramping she started getting in one leg. I started having aches in the muscles that connect the hips to the, uh, gluteus, which make it really, really tough to keep lifting those feet.

It was also during this stretch (miles 18-22, let’s say) that I realized all I had eaten that day was 2 protein bars, about 6 packets of Gu, and all the Cytomax I could swim in. All I’d had was sugar, and my body passed along word that if I so much as thought about eating or drinking anything else with sugar in it, I would probably vomit. I felt like if I didn’t get some actual food into my stomach soon, I was going to pass out. I don’t know how I would solve that in the future—drink less Cytomax, more water?—because I can’t eat a lot of heavy, solid food before I run. And especially not before a long run.

At mile 23, we passed the incoming finishers, which meant we had another loop ahead of us with a turnaround. Someone on our side asked people on the other side, “Mile 24?” And they said, “25.” Which meant we had another two miles to go on this open concrete stretch. We’d been running for 4.5 hours, we were both exhausted, we both felt sick from the constant sugar, and I had started having trouble keeping up with Nina.

That was the point I said, “I’ve started hating life.”

Nina did not dignify that with a response.

We discovered later that at about Mile 24 I was on the verge of saying, “I’m going to walk, you go on ahead”… and Nina was thinking of saying much the same thing to me. Which is hilarious, because Nina kept pulling ahead of me, and all of my inner monologues that had previously worked to keep me abreast of Nina stopped working. I was wondering where in the hell she was getting all the damned energy at that point.

The last bit was a downhill approach to Qwest, which rocked, because no matter how tired you were at that point, you knew the marathon finish was not that far away and you could get a little bit more out of your legs with gravity’s help. So we took off down that ramp like two bats out of hell, and the whole time I was wondering, “Are Darin and the kids here? And will I be able to pick them out of the crowd?” As it turned out, the answer to both questions was Yes! and I waved madly at them. (Nina managed to spot her husband too, surprisingly enough.) We crossed the finish line at exactly 5:06:00, which was hilarious and gratifying, given that I’d predicted a 5 hour finish.

We kept walking—you have to keep walking after a long run, or else your muscles seize up—and I made us both eat bananas, because despite the obvious sugar they contain, they have stuff like potassium and carbohydrates too. I told the woman who handed us ice-cold bottles of water that I loved her. I put my medal on and refused to take it off.

When we found Darin and the kids we discovered that he had bought a dozen doughnuts for me as a congratulations! Which was my fault, because I’d told him to, but man, did the idea of sugar really turn our stomachs at that point. This lack of marathoner/doughnut interest was okay with both my kids and the kids of my Seattle friend Mary, who was also there at the finish to see me. The kids sampled every doughnut type.

Nina and her husband took off, and Darin and our family and Mary and her family headed out to get some lunch. I didn’t care what I ate, so long as it was salty and filled with lots of starchy carbohydrates. We went to a pan-Asian food court somewhere near Chinatown, which was okay, but I discovered that I couldn’t make myself eat! I’d thought I was intensely hungry, but something about the run completely shut my system down and I could barely eat anything. I figured my system would adjust as soon as it figured out I didn’t have to eat pasty Gu any more.

Mary took my kids with her while Darin walked me back to the hotel. In hindsight: despite the benefits of walking after a long run, the walk was really too much for me and we should have just taken the free bus service. I limped terribly at the end, mostly because of my sore hips (and I’ve been limping all day since). Darin left me in the room and rejoined Mary and the kids. I bathed (to try to soothe my legs a little), showered (because I’d just run 26.2 miles), and sacked out for an hour. You’d think that, having woken up at 4am and done some strenuous exercise, my body might want to put me down for, I dunno, at least 1.5 hours, but you’d be wrong.

I got up, rejoined the gang, and we all had a fabulous picnic lakeside, with the kids frolicking in the water! Turned out I’d run by this beach earlier in the day, though I had to admit I didn’t actually remember it.

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Bests and Worsts of the Marathon

Worst marathon preparation failure (almost): I forgot to pack a sports bra (but thankfully discovered this yesterday). Turns out Niketown doesn’t carry them. However, there is always Nordstrom, which has everything you could ever need. A marathon is not really the day you want to break in a new piece of athletic gear, especially not one that’s so, uh, close to your heart. Only thing worse would have been forgetting my shoes.

Worst marathon preparation failure (actual): I forgot to apply sunscreen. I was in such a hurry this morning, I just forgot. This turned out to be a perfect way to stripe my body in red and white. You can tell exactly where the edges of my shorts were. Oh yes, and: OW.

Worst marathon result (possibly unpreventable): I developed a perfectly round dime-sized blister on my right big toe. One of the things I’ve learned with long-distance running: how to drain blisters. You need a needle, rubbing alcohol (to sterilize the needle), and the fortitude to stick the needle through healthy skin to get to the blister. Yay. In addition, the nail my right second toe feels weirdly numb, like it got bruised or something. It looks fine now, but it still feels like hell.

Best sighting: An American bald eagle, in a tree, watching us run by. I said, “This marathon’s organizers went all out in getting attractions for us.”

Best conversation during the run:

“I’m sorry, this is going to mess up our time, but the next time we see a porta-potty I have to stop.”

“Time? You think I care about our time? At this point all I care about is pain management.”

Weirdest conversation during the run: When Nina and I both admitted we were working on our blog entries in our heads.

Worst company name: The porta-potty vendor was named “Honey Bucket.”

Worst snafu: I’d signed up for Darin to get texts informing him of my progress. Worked great for 9 miles…then nothing. Finally they sent a text telling him they were having issues—which he’d kind of guessed, given that I had already finished. (Their website, however, worked fine at informing him of my progress, so it was a good thing he knew my runner number.)

Best inspirational sign: “NO BAILOUT FOR YOU! Keep running.”

Worst runner habit: Seriously, people, have you never heard of “Runners left, walkers right?” if people continuously run around both sides of you, move to the RIGHT.

Weirdest runner habit: A woman was running with her hands down by her sides, without moving them back and forth. Try it. You’ll probably fall over.

Best t-shirt: Worn by the two young women who were wearing t-shirts that read

Non-refundable wedding deposit: $6000

Non-refundable wedding dress deposit: $1500

Cost of entering Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon: $150

Celebrating the “ex” in front of fiancé: priceless

Worst place to put a band (tie): 1) Inside one of the freeway tunnels; 2) Right across the freeway from another, louder band.

Best music: Let’s see, I have 25 bands to choose from, so I’m going to go with… DJ Steveboy of Podrunner! DJ Steveboy has basically made our running regimen possible with his mixes at various beats per minute—I’m convinced he’s a major part of why I’ve graduated from 12 minutes per mile to 9-10 minutes per mile. (Yes, the marathon turned out to be about 11 minutes per mile, but we stopped for porta-potties and stuff.) If you do any running at all, use Podrunner. It is Teh Awesum.

Meanest marathon course trick: We ran to Qwest Field…and then veered away again for another 10-12 miles before returning to finish. So mean!

Why I’d do this marathon again: Very well-run, lots of enthusiastic participants and supporters, extremely scenic.

Why I wouldn’t do this marathon again: The last 10 miles or so were on concrete. I think my Seattle friends called this stretch “the Embarcadero,” if that tells you were it is: it’s the freeway that runs along the shipping areas. The order of surfaces you want to run on are 1) dirt, 2) asphalt, 3) concrete. Concrete has absolutely no give to it, so it’s just hell on the joints, and I think it’s a big part of the hurt I have now. (The other part being, of course, I just ran 26 miles.)

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I am utterly thrilled I’ve actually done it! After so much time spent thinking about doing one—and having gotten horribly sick the last time I was supposed to do one, thereby missing out—I am just psyched that I’ve actually accomplished it!