Thought I had nothing better to do so I decided to run a marathon

BLOG POST WARNING: The following blog includes almost nothing about the country of Japan, our adventures in Japan or anywhere else in Asia, and almost nothing about Ethan and Ryan.

So proceed reading at your own risk.  These are minutes of your life that you will not get back.  This is long - much longer than it needs to be. Don't say I didn't warn you.  This post is more for me than anyone else.

To Run Or Go Crazy? Tough Choice...

Ahhh yes, how all "good" stories begin.  One day, I was bored.

But ... let me back up a bit.  Last summer, I had just finished a big work project.  The kids were in the US for a month, Aimee and Banita were coming to Japan for a visit, I was kid-free AND with awesome friends, and I was headed to Cambodia with my friend, Teresa (if anyone else would like to write blog posts about those fun times, that would be terrific - hint, hint).

All was grand.

And .... then it wasn't.  Suddenly it was September and I had ZERO work contracts on the horizon.  Kids were back in school.  The fun summer adventures were over.  I had been networking and sending out e-mails and no work had even remotely materialized.  I needed a goal badly.  I needed something to focus on.  I could already tell that I was about to go a little crazy.  And I didn't really want to go back there.

Soooo.... for some unknown reason, I decided to run a marathon.  Just because.  I tried to convince some other fabulous people to run it with me, but no luck.  I was on my own.  And I became a "how to run a marathon" googling fiend.  Oh yeah, I should mention that I am NOT a runner.  At all.  The last "race" I ran was a 10K when I was about 11 years old - yep THIRTY-ONE YEARS AGO.  So I was essentially starting from scratch.

And sure most people might start with 10Ks or even half-marathons, but noooooo - why would I do something reasonable?

So, I applied for the Tokyo Marathon in Feb 2015.  Of the 300,000 people who hoped to run it, I was NOT one of the 30,000 lucky ones who won the Tokyo Marathon lottery.  But by this point, I was committed, so I looked for other options.

While at a running store - which was a very depressing experience by the way - they had no shoes at all in my size (just like the entire rest of the country, but I continue to keep hope alive), none of the Japanese size running clothes fit, everything was crazy expensive, and I felt like a fish out of water.  I remember calling Kevin and saying, "what am I thinking? If I can't even handle a trip to the running store, how in the hell can I run a marathon?" But I digress.  Back to the point.

While at the running store, I saw a poster about the Yokohama marathon on March 15, 2015.  I didn't even know there was a Yokohama marathon - Yokohama is just outside of Tokyo and an easy 25 minute train ride from our house, so this seemed like a real possibility. I called the marathon office and they slyly suggested that I could apply as an overseas runner if I used a US address. And lo and behold, I got a spot! And even better, because I was considered an "overseas runner" I also got all the race information in English.  Minor miracle and something to be extremely appreciated!

No, I didn't win some strange cruise.  For unexplainable reason, this was the photo
backdrop for the Mizuno sports brand at the Runners Expo during bib pick-up the day before the marathon

Ohhhh - the tear-inducing pain of my "deformed feet"

By now, it's the end of September.  I'm a few weeks into my marathon training; training distances are still pretty short.  And 2 things happen:

1) Immense foot pain.  Not your "hmm, this kinda hurts, must be because I'm out of shape or haven't run in a very very long time or something like that" foot pain.  Tear-inducing pain.  Like someone is pounding 5 inch nails - into the balls of both feet - with every step (which happens roughly 160 times per minute).  Starting right when I hit 4 miles, e-v-e-r-y-t-i-m-e, like clockwork and continuing until I stop running.  I thought I was finished just as I was getting started.

2) Out of nowhere, I suddenly had 2 big work contracts.  Which was great.  Fantastic, really.  But, all this free time that I thought I had to train for a marathon....  Nope, not so much.  And both work projects required travel - to Mali and Jordan.  Which required a whole lot of family logistics (HUGE shout-out to Rosie who didn't seem even a little bit phased by traveling halfway around the world to be primary care provider for 2 kids for a whole month in a foreign country where she didn't speak the language - that takes some spunk!).

OK, first things first.  I tried everything I could think of to address the foot pain.

• Consulted with the running shoe experts.
• New shoes shipped from the US - no luck, still in pain.
• Got a referral from a sports orthopedist recommended by an international running club in Tokyo.
• Trekked halfway across Tokyo, got x-rays, saw the English-speaking sports orthopedist
• Official diagnosis = deformed feet
• And the only treatment option was custom orthopedic insoles - which may or may not work, I was told by the doctor, but it was my only option.
• Trekked halfway across Tokyo NUMEROUS times to be fitted for the insoles  - no luck, custom insoles actually caused pain and blisters on the bottom of my feet.
• Tried acupuncture - no luck, still in pain.
• Went to Mizuno running insole clinic (again, on the other side of Tokyo) - just to see if it would help.  Seemed to feel better - but that lasted less than 2 km.  No luck, still in immense pain.
• Gave up on finding a solution to my "deformed feet."  And just started running through the pain.  And popping a lot of ibuprofen for any run more than 4 miles - and it still hurt A LOT. But I just kept going.

My 2 pairs of running shoes and 3 sets of insoles (2 of them custom)

Not your typical training obstacles -  Ebola, Refugee Camps, Global Transient Amnesia, and a Search and Rescue Operation

I tried to manage the work travel while marathon training the best I could.  But, when you're traveling/barely even training for 6 weeks out of a 24 week training schedule, that can't be good.

A little cross-cultural break-time during the 2 week training - they tied these headscarves a new way every day!

Sooo, the Mali trip happened first. And as luck would have it, my departure coincided exactly with the start of the ebola issues in Mali.  And exactly the time at which they didn't know what was going on.  A 2 year-old girl with ebola had traveled across Mali on a public bus, including a stop in Bamako, and the authorities were trying to track everyone down.  In the final few days before I left for Bamako, I quickly became best friends with the person at the health quarantine  desk at Narita airport, trying to determine if the Japanese government would be isolating people who entered Japan from an ebola-risk country, and trying to predict what the situation would be like 3 weeks later when I tried to re-enter Japan. It was, of course, all a guessing game. But given that Japanese are notoriously germ-phobic (Japanese schools close regularly because of the FLU, people wear face masks all the time), I would not have been even a little bit surprised if the Japanese government had responded extremely aggressively and isolated anyone and everyone.

Enumerators interviewing a local man
about the conditions in his village

Village leaders preparing to
do random selection of households

And while I was in Mali, the ebola situation got even more interesting/scary: a nurse from the "international clinic" in Bamako died of ebola - 2 days after my colleague had been at the SAME clinic being treated for malaria. When I first arrived in Bamako, there were bottles of hand sanitizer everywhere - you had to sanitize your hands before entering any restaurant, before entering our hotel, just about everywhere. By the time I left Bamako, they were pointing the temperature gun at my head every time I went in or out of the hotel.  Not to mention multiple temperature checks when flying out of the country, lines of WHO officials and military units, and a physical blockade of Red Cross personnel checking every passengers' temperature when we deplaned in Paris.

Getting the temp gun as we entered our hotel

Courtesy of the French Red Cross as I deplaned in Paris

And after all that worry and hassle, Japan's immigration and health quarantine offices didn't even list Mali as an ebola-target country and they didn't even care that I had been there! And I was perfectly healthy, by the way!

But back to running. Tried running my first morning in Mali and promptly rolled my ankle - on a pothole or a chicken or a goat.  Who knows?  So took a few days for that to heal.  By which time bad food had taken its toll and my training suddenly turned from distance running to sprints - to the toilet!  Public toilets are pretty much non-existent in most of urban Africa, so being miles away from a known relief spot was not a good idea!  I did run laps around my hotel room a few mornings...

And finally I was back home in Tokyo, and tried to catch up on some running during the 1 week before I left for my next trip to Jordan (my mom and dad were both in Tokyo during this week too).

All was going well.  I was happy to be home, happy to see Kevin and the kids, and happy to see my parents.  All grand.

Then Saturday morning (the day I was planning to do a much-needed long run), I woke up with an incredibly odd sensation.  I knew where I was; Kevin was right next to me in bed, but I  kept asking him very strange questions.  "What day is it? I think I just came back from a trip - where was I?  What day is it? Something doesn't feel right. Am I going somewhere? What day is it? Something is wrong. Are my parents here?"

Kevin was starting to get a bit worried and was calmly texting his brother, the ER doctor (who immediately responded something to the effect - "go to the doctor, she needs a neuro exam, no risk factors but she may be having a stroke").  Kevin asked me what I did on Thursday and I had NO clue.  It was only Saturday morning - 36 hours later.  Nope. Not one single iota of a clue.

My short-term memory was on the fritz - and it was a very unpleasant, extremely unsettling feeling. In retrospect, it gave me a very slight but very eye-opening perspective on what it must feel like for people in the early stages of dementia or alzheimers.

As the morning continued, I started to remember more.  But after much consternation and procrastination, I finally agreed to go to the doctor - mostly to appease my parents who were worried about me leaving for Jordan just 48 hours later, so they wanted me to get checked out.

Not wanting to try and explain this in Japanese, we headed to the international clinic for the first time ever.  Oh my.  So easy.  This is how the "real expats" live - everything in English, no confusion, international doctors. So very easy.  A quick neuro exam, and we were done.  And the doctor's phone number in case it got worse over the weekend.

And for the record, the doctor determined that I had Transient Global Amnesia (translation: he really had no idea but he couldn't find anything else wrong with me and I seemed to be getting better).  Dr. Google (ala mayoclinic) describes it as a "sudden, temporary episode of memory loss that can't be attributed to a more common neurological condition, such as epilepsy or stroke." 

Who knew there was even such a thing?

The next day we also had tickets to the semi-final and final game of the International Blind Football Championship - which was awesome!  Kids were all into it, getting autographs of players, etc.

And then - who was on my flight to Dubai the next day?  The Brazil Blind Football Team - WORLD CHAMPIONS!  I totally geeked out and took pics and got autographs for the kids.

At the game!

At the airport in Dubai 24 hours later!

Dynamic staff working on an Education program in the refugee camp

OK, next trip to Jordan.  This was my first time working on a humanitarian relief project / in a refugee camp setting.  Was eye-opening and extremely depressing.  Syria - the largest humanitarian crisis ever.  And the situation is only getting worse.  I was working at Zaatari camp - just google it - it will make you cry.

But there were bright spots as well.  The young Japanese staff reminded me of my Peace Corps days. Idealistic young people doing a lot with a little and working their tails off.

Hanging on the wall of the school in the
refugee camp.  Look closely at the material they used.
Amazing!

A Community Health volunteer

The sights and smells of Amman...

My 1 night in the Amman market...

OK, back to running.  Well, there was no running.  At all.  Jogging in a refugee camp is just not a thing.  And the city of Amman has NO pedestrians at all, anywhere. No sidewalks, nothing. And definitely no runners.

Was back in Tokyo for 3 weeks and tried to catch up on the running then.  Then in Sri Lanka for the winter break.  Not much luck running there either - let's see - monsoons, landslides, being chased by village dogs, and a slight search and rescue effort that turned out fine but also meant that running 15 miles solo was probably not a very good idea.  So I didn't.  See what restraint I showed then.

Oh my.  This post is taking FOREVER and I haven't even gotten to the marathon yet.

Oh yeah, and then there's the half-marathon that I registered for with a friend (she was doing a 10K), just as training.  That was 2 weeks after we returned from Sri Lanka.  And it would have been fine, except that I accidentally ran 18 MILES instead of 13.1 miles - thanks to a distracted race official at the turn-around point (it's a long story that I have not completely figured out).  My Japanese friend completely agrees that there was NO signage in any language telling people to turn around, I asked several people if I was in the right place and no one seemed to know, and after asking at the full-marathon turn-around point, I was told that several other half-marathoners had made the same mistake - lovely.

And the funny thing is, I was rocking the first 10-12 miles, but my "bonus" 5 miles was more than I bargained for.  So goes the story of my 3/4 marathon!

Spent the next 2 months following my running schedule as closely as I could.  And it was cold in Tokyo - those early morning runs were less than fun.   Ryan was often my "coach" riding his bike alongside me, carrying my water bottle and towel in his bike basket.  Ethan even ran parts of a few runs with me.  Kevin - not so much :)

Getting Ready for Marathon Day

After my less-than-stellar ability to follow the race course during my half-marathon, I decided it might be a good idea to check out the marathon course beforehand - so I decided to rent an electric bike to ride the Yokohama marathon course.  And my friend, Christina (who was about to leave Japan and join the Peace Corps in Africa), joined me for the adventure - which made it way way way more fun.

The highlights of the marathon course bike ride:

• Oh my holy guacamole, a marathon is soooo freakin far.  Somehow, I had never quite realized that. 
• We were riding bikes - ELECTRIC bikes - and we didn't even have time to finish.  I think we only biked about 14 miles of the course and it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r.  We had to turn around because we were out of time!
• Running course was really not that attractive - the map showed the course alongside some gardens and shrines, but it did not show the 20 foot cement wall that stands between the running course and the gardens and shrines.  
• Then I figured out that miles 13-22 were on the expressway - such that there could be no one cheering along the course route.  Seriously miles 13-22? That was surely going to be the toughest part of the race.
• Electric bikes are awesome-sauce!  This was my first time to ride one, and it's like a little adrenaline rush every time the bike just starts going on its own.  So fun.
• Stopped at a coffee vending machine and made our own Amarula coffees (yep, I was carrying Amarula, an African liquer, in a water bottle - I knew that would come in handy).
• Not exactly sure how an unfulfilled craving for fish and chips emerged as an important part of the day, but it did ...

And finally, Marathon week had arrived!  March 15, 2015, here I come...

I was calm during the week, though I remember feeling extremely tired, even though I was hardly running at all that week as it was taper-time.  I went to the runners expo the day before the race, and I took a surprising 3 hour nap in the afternoon.  And when I woke up, the butterflies were in full force.  Stomach was doing flip-flops. I was obsessing about how to pin my bib number on - thankfully, Kevin was there to be the voice of reason.

Ate my "marathon" breakfast and headed to the course bright and early - I was supposed to be in my starting block a full 1 hour before the starting time - seemed excessive to me, but what did I know?  In typical Japanese fashion, all was uber-organized so I had a lot of time to kill standing in my starting block.

But, once the gun went off, I felt like I was in Disneyland.

1. It was super crowded, so many people, I could barely walk.
2. There was confetti and music and race volunteers every 10 meters cheering everyone on.  And we hadn't even crossed the starting line yet.  It felt like the "happiest place on earth."  But we were at Mile 0.
3. I was shocked by the super long lines for the toilets; we were only 1 km into the race and there were already loooooong lines at the toilets.  
4. Tons of random entertainment: There were aid stations every 2 km or so, and at each aid station, there was also some form of entertainment.  Seriously? Did they expect people to stop and listen?  I actually felt bad for the performers.  There were string quartets, high school brass bands, cheerleading teams, hula dancers, magicians and clown performers... 

To be honest, I don't remember many details about the race itself.

The weather was terrific - cool, crisp, and sunny, and in general, I felt great.  My pace was even slower than normal at the beginning because there were just too many people and I couldn't get around them.

Kevin and the kids were cheering me on at around 5 km - that was awesome!  To hear the sweet voices of Ethan and Ryan yelling "Gambare, Mommy" and "Go, Mommy, Go" was music to my ears and my heart, legs, and soul. Some friends were tracking my pace via a GPS app, sending me encouraging texts, and I was texting back - just for fun.

Kevin and the kids appeared again a few more times - I never knew when I was going to see them so it was a huge BOON to my heart and my soul when I did.  Though a few times, I was so far in my own little world, that I almost didn't see them at all.  And then at one point, shortly before we entered the "expressway" miles, apparently they were there, but I didn't see them and they didn't see me.  The good thing is that I didn't know this until after the race; otherwise I would have been so disappointed at missing a chance to see my little cheering section.

I was a bit emotional at times.  Whenever someone on the sidelines made eye contact with me or used an English phrase or somehow indicated they were actually cheering for me, it brought tears to my eyes.  And whenever there were little kids with their hands outstretched for a high-five, I made a point to give them a super-duper-high-five, even if I had to run to the other side of the street, to do it.  I was having fun with it.

And, as usual, the foot pain kicked in right at 4 miles, but I think the combination of adrenaline, advil, and just ignoring it for 20+ miles made it manageable.

Text message from Kevin during the race

As a first time marathoner, my game plan was to take advantage of all the aid stations - hydration is always a good idea and I NEVER pass up free food.  But, man, there were a lot of aid stations - with a fun assortment of snacks (yes, I was running a marathon and simultaneously checking out the free snacks).  Let's see - what were some of my favorites?  Red bean rice cakes, rice crackers/senbei, rice balls, strawberries... But, I was doing pretty well with my sportz jelly beans in my shirt pocket (thanks mom and dad!), so I was even skipping the food after a while.

And I just kept running.  And running, and running. I kept waiting for the "wall" and it never really came.  Now, I was VERY tired at times and I'm sure I looked like hell, and I was pissed at having to wait 14 minutes (yep, I timed it) at mile 18 (approximately) for the toilet.  But, I never thought I couldn't do it, I never considered quitting.  I just kept going.

The miles and kilometers were clicking by.  Suddenly, Kevin and the kids and my friend, Teresa, were in front of me.  I was at mile 23 (km 37) - only 3 miles to go.  Started picking up the pace, feeling grand, and passing people left and right.  I was on fire.  Or maybe it was just my feet that were on my fire.  And though I *felt* like I was picking up the pace, I'm not sure that I was really moving that fast.  But, I was passing a lot of people and I was digging deep for that last bit of energy.  I remember seeing a 39 km sign and the next kilometer seemed endless; my mind was utterly confused as I couldn't believe I hadn't passed the 40 km sign yet, and then suddenly the 41 km marker was looming directly in front of me.  I was a) confused that I had somehow missed the 40 km marker and  b) utterly ecstatic that the "endless" kilometer had actually been 2 kilometers.  Thank goodness for small miracles and making it to 41 km.  Only 1 km to go!

Mile 23/Km 37, first time I had seen the kids in many, many miles.
Was happy to get rid of my jacket.

I continued to push myself as hard as I could - this was hardly a sprint, though it felt like it to my weary legs.  I was getting lots of "nice fight-o" cheers as I was pouring on the power (relatively speaking) and that kept me going.

Then, I saw it - the sign in HUGE letters - FINISH - and my heart leapt!  Yippee, then I saw in very small letters - 200 meters to go (but in Japanese). OK, so 200 meters is nothing after running 42 kilometers, but still - that's false advertising if I've ever seen it. No sign of Kevin and the kids, but I wasn't going to wait around for them...

Crossed the finish line with a huge smile on my face.  My goal was to finish and have fun doing it, so MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. [Just realized that I didn't even include my time in the first draft.  It was 4:34 - well, technically 4:48 but I think it's perfectly legit to subtract the 14 minutes I spent waiting for the toilet!]

I moved very slowly through the runner's chute, as the moment I stopped running, my legs were in immense PAIN.  I could barely move.  Got my medal (very odd, shaped like a ship's steering wheel), my marathon towel, and a drink.

I called Kevin to see where he was.  He answers the phone with "Where are you?"  "I'm already finished," I replied.  "What? You already crossed the finish line? We're at the finish waiting for you. We took the train and sprinted all the way here."

"Well, I guess I was faster than you all," was my response.

So, I did it.  I ran a marathon.  I was smiling - inside and out.

BEST cheering section EVER!

I felt a lot of things - relief, gratitude, pain, joy. But, surprisingly, I didn't feel proud.  I found it hard to feel proud when 22,000 other people had accomplished the same thing on the same day.  But I was immensely pleased.

Met up with Kevin, the kids, and Teresa in a nearby park on the water.  Tried to stretch, but honestly, my muscles were already so tight and sore that it hardly seemed worth it.  When I was able to walk again (very slowly), we headed homeward in search for a big, fat, juicy burger and beer.

My awesome friend, Teresa, who cheered me on at the end 

Once we got home - and the stairs in the train stations were KILLER, by the way - I milked the marathon for all it was worth.  And I had to get it all in right away as Kevin was leaving the next day for a week-long business trip, so I only got a 1/2 day of being treated like marathon royalty. Except for a freezing cold bath, I didn't get off the couch for the rest of the night.

Monday my quads were still quite sore, but the rest of me had mostly bounced back.  Over the next few days, my muscles recovered and by Wednesday, I was fine.

So goes the story of my first (and likely last) marathon.  Extremely glad I did it, but don't have any burning desire to do it again.