Who Supports You?

Marathon training has been a wild ride so far, and I’m sure there’s going to be a few more adventures along the way before everything is said and done.  The latest tidbit that’s whirling around my brain is the concept of Support.  Support comes in many shapes and forms, and when a person decides to do something out of the ordinary, out of their comfort zone, they reach into their network of support for solid anchors.

When I announced I was going to train for my first marathon, two people got really excited; my husband Bill and Coach Gwen.  Everyone else had a lukewarm response.  I heard a lot of “Wow, that’s great Lara”, with forced cheerfulness.  Some people asked a few questions (place, date, etc).  They all listened when I expounded on the idea of tackling a training plan that culminated in racing the California International Marathon in Sacramento, and how I was consciously pushing myself out of my comfort zone.  I thought my friends and family would be proud of me for setting a goal, acquiring a training plan to get me from point A to point Z without killing myself, and having the fortitude and courage to make the attempt.  But really, folks were pretty quiet out there, thinking their own thoughts and not telling me what was really on their minds.

To be brutally honest, I felt really alone.  I felt like people in my life didn’t support me, they didn’t think I could succeed, they didn’t think the goal was worthwhile, etc.  I was hurt by the lack of interest my family and friends showed.  I didn’t say anything, just kept logging my miles and posting my training on Dailymile.   I stopped reaching out to running friends and withdrew into my own little world.  Hurt is a lonely place to be.

Then one Sunday, Heidi came out to run with me on a long run.  She paced me around the back roads of Boulder for a good 11 miles. I was energized by the show of support, and a little hurt faded.

After the long run, when I was tired and sat around like a lump of goo on the living room floor for hours on end, Bill supported me by rubbing my back and bringing me cup after cup of water or tea, and snacks.  He made dinner in the evening, played with the kids, and did a lot of the weekend chores so I wouldn’t feel compelled to do anything other than rest.

The following week I took my family and met my friend Elorie and her daughter at the Reservoir.  Bill (and kids) followed our map and went ahead of us, acting as our personal aid station and cheering section.  This support was so gracious, so uncomplicated, so welcome.  My kids got an up-close-and-personal glimpse of how long 17 miles was, we were together as a family, and I had two and a half hours of girl-time with my friend.  We never stopped talking during that run.  I felt like I was wrapped in a blanket of support from my husband, kids, and best friend.  That warm glow lasted a long, long time.

A few weeks later Bill was out of town.  The kids spent the night at my Mom’s house so I could run long in the morning.

The morning started out well and took a header into the deep blue sea at mile eight, where it became a complete slog-fest.  I deviated from my planned route because of fog and lack of a road shoulder, and ended up running eight miles of hills instead of only one.  I didn’t manage my fuel well and bonked at mile sixteen.  Mentally, I was shot, even though the pace was exactly where it should be.

Later that day I posted my run on Dailymile and wrote a blog post about that very special psychological hell a distance athlete can and does face at times, and was completely shocked by the outpouring of love and support from the online community.  People I know through the virtual world wrote to offer support and encouragement.  They commented on my strength, stamina and pace.  Coach Gwen read the blog post and sent me a personal email almost instantly, then called a few days later to see how I was doing.  My fellow athletes commiserated, listened to my doubts, picked me up and cheered heartily when I got back on my feet.  They weren’t going to let me wallow alone.

I made a personal goal of running a marathon for many reasons, one of which is to push myself out of my comfort zone.  Another is to complete a literal training plan that gets me from Point A to Point Z, with an actual return on my investment.  Another is to challenge my physical body to cope with the nuances of nurturing a body that is expending energy at a high and constant rate, and learn how to replenish my system calorically, physically (rest), mentally, and spiritually.  Another is to learn how to find balance between  family and fulfilling my zest and passion for setting and accomplishing personal goals.

I set up some serious systems to help me get through this process.  My husband is my Number One resource, it would take a full post to describe how he has stepped up and supported me, and the race is still a full nine weeks away!

My nutritionist/acupuncturist has helped me work on my digestive issues, recognized that training is pushing my body into the unknown and offered solutions to supporting my nutritional requirements while getting me to the race on December 5 in Sacramento.  I’ve cried in her office because of physical pain in my belly, and she has come up with some seriously creative ways to support my inflamed intestines and balance the entire system.

Coach Gwen is a God-send, spending hours talking me through training plans, discussing nuances of various fuel and hydration products, extolling the virtues of Lactate Threshold runs, and then telling me about her own training for Ironman Arizona, her 7^th Ironman race in as many years.  She is a long-time friend that knows more of my dirt than probably anyone should, and still supports me in getting to Sacramento and trying for a Boston time.  I can’t wait to cheer for her in Tempe on November 21 as she smokes the course!

And here’s a piece of Full Disclosure:  The marriage counselor we’re seeing is also a huge piece in this puzzle, as she understands the value of setting a physical goal when a person is actively digging into the dirt of the mind/body connection to identify things that have held us back at different points in our lives.

Last but not least is my community of friends.  There are people who live a few miles away, and people online who I’ve never physically met but who act as my personal cheering section.  Accomplishments are toasted, new PR’s are celebrated, and each mile is a victory.  They keep it real and keep me moving.

Running a marathon is physical, yes; it’s also incredibly spiritual and mentally challenging.  Every person that chooses to run a marathon does it for deeply personal reasons, and each person carries a full-blown story to the Start Line.  The thing to remember is that nobody got there by themselves.  That support system is integral to the success of every runner, every triathlete, every man, woman and child trying something for the first time or trying to improve each time thereafter.  I’m struck by the support of the network of people that have surrounded me emotionally, the people who have cheered for my accomplishments and offered a shoulder to cry on when I fell.  And each and every one of those people keeps whispering those life-saving words: “I believe in you”.