This damn thing called running. Me against the Marathon.

Know that it took me so long to write about this marathon because I’m still up a bit on Cloud no. 9 so to say. It falls into the “holy shit you did it” category. I mean, you literally friggin’ did it! I’ve waited for this damn marathon for 4 months. Not only that I’ve waited for it, but I’ve worked for it after at some point I had actually decided to postpone it for next year. And now that it finally happened, it kind of went by too fast, you know what I mean? Of course if you had asked me at like mile 25, I’d have said something completely different, but as we say here, “after the war lots of brave men make an appearance” so move aside people, I’m about to boast!

Let’s see now. I’ve been running for pretty much 1 year and 5 months. Meanwhile I’ve broken some, I’ve repaired some, I learnt some more, I improved overall. It’s hard. It’s hard because I always want more, but the time that I can allow for training and the discipline necessary when it comes to sleeping, recovery and nutrition doesn’t always come in handy after working almost 9 hours a day sitting mostly in a chair. Being a corporate athlete is more challenging than you might think! (oh my, what did I just say! Haha)

Running seems to me like a highly personalized sport. A lot of advice and opinions, many of them well intended and good, but not necessarily good for you. Somewhere there has to be a middle line between advice, learning, knowing your body and common sense. In May at the OMV Petrom race I ran exceptionally well for like 11.5 miles and then I fucked it up big time. I did drink water but didn’t eat anything. Yes, of course you can run an HM without eating anything, but not when you’re doing it at high speed and with a 170+ bpms like I did. But who knew much about pulse at that time? Well, now I do thanks to that event. Instead of coming out in 2 hours, I managed to run almost 5 minutes slower, wasting everything I had earned to that point. Was I mad about it? No, I don’t run to get mad about timing and stuff. I run to finish and to live longer or at least better, with a smile on my face. But it has clearly led me to think some more on what I’m doing wrong. I never again want to run nauseating and lethargic like back then.

Nor with the kind of pain in my right ass cheek like I did for almost 8 months when I couldn’t get rid of my tendinitis. August 5, 2015. That’s when I messed up things doing intervals on Dinamo Stadium. I went to the doctor, I got anti-inflamatory pills, I didn’t train for 2 weeks, ran only 3 miles for a month. I was really nice to my body, by the book. I couldn’t believe I was so well-behaved considering I was having the relay scheduled for October 4^th and in beginning of September I couldn’t even walk properly. But it gave in eventually; until December 13 that is, when during my second HM from 4 to 10 miles it hurt like a motherfucker. If I could’ve I would’ve pulled my leg out! I went to the doctor again, went through treatment again, no training again. “It’s going to hurt every time you increase the distance and intensity of your trainings” said the doctor. I mean what the hell? That means all the time!

I ended up at Medlife Grivita where I got in the capable hands of Micki and Robert in kineto therapy. NOTE: for those non-believers in tapes, think again! When I first got there, as unfaithful as the next runner, I was limping. Miki did not let me leave without tapes. When I was about to get out of the door I realized I’m walking pain free. No fear, no pain. When running I could tell on the clock when it would start to hurt. I just didn’t know how badly or for how long.

In spring it finally let go. With lots of home exercising and Robert pulling on my legs that I was almost doing a full spread like back during ballet times. After the HM in May, I ended up in the cardiology ward for effort tests, blood tests and then I had a meeting with a sports doctor to see whether they are still going to give me the ok to run having such a wild rabbit pulse. The doctor literally wrote down on the paper “healthy as a horse.” I laughed and asked him again, how is this possible that he’s allowing me do cardio with this high pulse. He said, “your heart is perfectly healthy only smaller than it should be for how big you are so it beats much faster to make up for the size. It eats more energy than with other people so remember to fuel it properly at all times. You’d do amazingly well if you only ran short distances because such a high pulse allows for great speed. Running a marathon with over 170 bpm is not advisable. If you manage to bring it down you can, but pay very close attention to nutrition. In time it will get better but never close to normal. Don’t let it ever suffocate you, don’t ever faint. That’s bad.” My max bpm is 202. Long live this rabbit heart! Haha.

And here we are. I started training 4 months ago. Almost 260 miles ran in total to what? To basically hold 26 miles at a constant speed. Isn’t that lame?! Haha The pulse has indeed dropped almost 12 beats since then and now I can run faster on longer distances with a better pulse. The ass cheek has behaved exemplary so physically I was doing great.

The “head” was also doing ok. I never spent time worrying about the marathon too much. I knew I could cover the distance. I mean, fuck it. 4:30 or 4:40, that was my aim. 4:20 was a bit of an erotic dream I started having when I saw that I was getting better. But there’s no use being brave. Dreams are not the same with what these legs can really endure.

On September 18 I accompanied mom to her cross in Baneasa Woods. I am after all, her biggest fan. She had never done that race. I was supposed to run 20.5 miles that weekend but due to a stupid step I took in a whole the night before, I hurt my ankle so I had to skip it and was left with just 18 miles my longest run. The least I could do was to go cheer for her!

Well, mom did an absolutely excellent race, finishing the cross in one hour. But, out of luck, or simply out of pure bad alignment of the planets, she fell right as she crossed the finish line. She tripped. I don’t want to detail on it as it’s still imprinted on my retina and it makes me more sick than I was back in the HM and then I start to cry. I’m just going to say, it was a really nasty fall when it happened, on the cement, face down, twice, nothing to lean on. Lots of blood, bruises and scratches. In the 5 seconds it took me to get to her,my worst nightmares came to life in my mind. Perhaps her glasses broke and the glass got into her eyes and face. Did she crack her jaw? Was she sick and that’s why she fell? Did her heart fail? As we were rushing to ER I understood it wasn’t because she got sick, she had simply tripped cause her brain loosened up the feet and she stepped too softly for that speed. It was very important to know that in fact she was ok and it was an unfortunate fall. It doesn’t even matter at this point. She could have tripped down the stairs or off the sidewalk. The main point was that I have never and will never be ready or make myself ready to see my parent look as badly as she did then. Whatever the reason. My mom is eternal, she never changes, she will never go away. Her white hair is just time dye to my eyes, her strength and endurance are limitless. I cried continuously for 2 hours. I know a lot of people thought I was over reacting, but for me, a single parent child, that image took me to a place I never want to go again, even though, at some point I’ll have to whether I’m ready or like it or not. A big bump on the forehead, a swollen bruised nose (not broken thank God), stitches under her chin, hairline fractures in her elbow and a stretched ligament in her right arm, lots of minor bruises and two more severe ones on her leg. The consequences weren’t by far what they could’ve been considering how ugly that fall was. Which at the end of the day was a good thing.

Still, it took me over 2 weeks to get over that, in the least. I would start crying out of nowhere, had nightmares almost every night for days. I’d come home to see her bruised and my heart would tear. She is right handed so she couldn't do much on her own so I kept her with me for another two weeks. That’s my mom, so fragile, so delicate, a little human to me. Yes, I know she is strong. I know she stands on her own two feet. But if it had been me in her place she would’ve reacted the same. Back in senior year in high school a guy hit me by accident with a piece of wood in my right up eyebrow. By the time I saw mom, I was cleaned and bandaged. She only had to take me to ER to have a few stitches done. When they did the anesthetic shot I cried a bit and she fainted on a bed. Did I tell you mom is a nurse and she sees blood every day? 

Everybody says, “Mela stop pushing your mom so much! She’s doing great anyways for her age, she is inspirational!” Listen, people, you don’t get it! I’m the one trying to hold her back! “Mom please wear thicker pants cause it’s cold! Mom please drink more water! Mom please eat before running! Mom watch where you’re going, shake those shoulders every now and then! Mom stop speeding uncontrollably, keep it steady!” Most of it passes her by. And some of it amuses her! Does that somehow remind you of us when we were kids and our parents would struggle to make us listen and we couldn’t care less?! That’s right. I think at some point parents become a bit our kids, and this is that time for me.

This being said, my “head", as well as hers, was a bit off balance to put it this way. I was afraid to see her like that again, she feared a similar experience. I tried not to bear that thought in mind for 26 miles. Secretly, in my heart, I was happy that many of my friends and colleagues were running the HM and would keep an eye on her.

So Sunday, we woke up like the fairies that we are at 6AM, had a little bit of cereal with almond milk, changed clothes and were ready to go. We had everything fixed from the night before. Watches, phones, portable batteries, outfits, powder, gel, energy chews, shakes, chips, napkins, clothes to change, everything. The only things I forgot were the subway cards. Luckily we had cash and bought some there.

Despite all expectations, there weren’t many people out in the street that would have the running kits like we did, like that you know we’re all going to the same place. The competition (mwuahaha!Haha!) On the sub, they started popping out from different stations. All dressed up for cold weather, Mela alone, in a little skirt. Of course mom immediately kicked in with parental guidance “see, I told you. You’re the only one so naked. You’re gonna freeze up. Cause you wanted to act bravely!” And of course, like any child I fought her back with how I know and I have researched that between this temperature and this temperature if you wear a long sleeve and shorts you’ll be fine. Of course they had also mentioned capris there, but my calf sleeves didn’t match my pink capris. I didn’t pay a load of money for those sleeves so they don’t match colors, what are we talking about! Of course, the more scientific explanation was that I don’t want to “choke” my leg with both capris and a long sleeve haha. To quickly end the discussion I took the shakes out and we started energizing.

Once out of the sub, a gust of cold wind hit me in the face but I took it like a girl. Mom was waiting around the corner to see that she was right so I was not about to give her that pleasure haha. We reached the tents. The Fun Race was about to begin. The Teenager race had already started. Mom squirmed a bit agitated, “who’s going now?” “Fun race” I said. “How’s that? I just saw this girl with a FR racing number on her just hanging about at the subway.” “So what can I do for her mom?” When I ran this race back a year and a half ago, I was up and running at 7AM. The race started at 8:30AM just like now. I think I stood guard at the start line for like an hour, gazing sheepishly at the big boys in the big league slowly but surely amassing in the left corridor. You know, those guys, barely dressed, looking all fit, having those calves, with all those muscles, and the watches and the equipment and did I say all those muscles on their legs? Trained and all. I say it now just like I said it back then. Next to them I looked like I had come to buy doughnuts. I had nothing to do with running.

BUT, but RIGHT NOW, I was also with the big league. It didn’t matter that I was in the small league of the big league, being a marathon beginner, but I was going to be right there with the big boys with all those muscles on their legs (FYI – I also have a calf that measures 13.3 inches, ok? Only on the left side. Right side it’s still work in progress haha).

We get there, we mix with people, I reach the Raiffeisen tent where we find the First Marathon group. Happy happy, lots of kisses and hugs. We’re still dressed as if we’re going skiing, but we’re smiling. Still quite early in the morning. Adrian Ene passes me by with a coffee. Steamy hot. Luck man, he can have that. I’d drink a gallon of water if I drank it. Moving on I run into Florin Cazan (big fan!), he is sharing free hugs and encouragement. He would ride along with us on his bike carrying supplies in case someone runs short of things. Despite me asking for a free ride between the chip readings, he refused and only witnessed us slowly dying. That Machiavelli worshiper!!!

Still there, I meet Flori the Gazelle as I call her of whom I am super proud considering we’ve run the relay together last year. Thinking of “where you’re coming from, where you are and where you’re going”, Flori has managed to put together a mixed relay team even though a month before she was complaining about not having trained enough and whatnot. Where there is a will, there is a way, I tell you that. We kiss, we hug, we wake up some more, we pose, we leave.

We then move to my running group where we find Daniel and Oana D. Unfortunately the others had not arrived yet. Again, kissing, more hugs, pictures. It almost looked like Xmas rehearsal! Eventually we leave to drop our stuff at the storage tents and get the extra layers off. This getting undressed thing was tricky. Inside, ok. Outside, I wanted back inside. We find the Raiffeisen group again and start warming up. Or at least we were trying; it looked more like a badly timed hangover dance. We were keeping close, trying to warm up, smiling, laughing, talking, until the time came to move to the start “pens”. On the way I look for the other guys in my group, but they are nowhere to be seen, except for Daniel who passes me by in a hurry. The other bad asses, namely Virgil, Roxi and Dada were aligned up front, with the big league. Us, the marathon beginners were pinned all the way in the back in Sector F, so we don’t trip people with how slow we are haha. We found the pacers and latched onto them like leaches, poor people! We wouldn’t shut up with excitement.

Bobby and Sorin went up front with the 4 hours pacers. Respect! Most of us stayed with the 4:30 ones and we had some mighty warriors moving with the 5 hours pacers. Pictures, laughter, jumping around. I guided mom to her location, between the 2:10 and 2:20 HM pacers alongside my colleague Silvia who was also running her first HM. I told her not to pass beyond the 2:10 unless she is close to 9 miles. Otherwise she risks too much.

While waiting for like 15 min to start, my bladder got all filled up again. Not happy, not at all. I had already gone to the bathroom, I couldn’t risk it now. Damn it, I say. Now what? I had learnt everything by heart but toilet location cause I never thought I’d need it. Surprise! Now I gotta ask!

The start is at 9:30AM but it takes us about 6 minutes to get there having about 900 people ahead of us. As I pass the line I start the watch and let’s go! I see an empty corridor and I shoot for it to get out of the crowd. I turn around to see the pacers are way in the back! Coooommmeee onnn!!!This is my chance to shine! I mean to warm up haha! I’m thinking, do not be a major idiot! You promised to be decent and not run like a headless chicken. These people have repeatedly told you the second part will kill you if you fuck up the first! I looked ahead, painfully. My legs were itching!!!! But I decide to stay behind and I run back to my pacers. In the shade I could beat myself up just to stay warm, but as we went things got better. At some point I even thought that maybe my long sleeve blouse was too much, but in fact it proved to be perfect for my low blood pressure and constantly cold hands.

My poor Garmin that reads the pulse right from the source, namely the wrist, said at some point that I have a 96 bpm. What a joke! I only have that when I sit and breathe. Haha. It was to be expected considering how cold my hands were, it was bound to mess it up somewhere. It happened twice during the entire race, but the rest of the time it functioned perfectly!

Thrills? Excitement? Not so much. I don’t know why. I think because I’ve waited for this to happen for so long and being more concerned to make it happen right, I forgot to be excited. All I know is that I’ve worked for it and I could’ve only hopped for the best. I never feared the distance in itself. Just the nutrition. I made a plan at home that I memorized, what and when to eat. It looks like it came out fine in the end. I was the only one “equipped” with hydration belt and all. But we should all race with the stuff we’ve trained on and I trained on powder (if you want the technicalities, I’ll lay out the plan at the end, not that it matters).

All good, happy, laughter, pictures, more pictures, shouting, encouragements. More pictures. We kept the group compact. The pacers, really awesome guys, kept us talking and fooled us little by little so that half way through we had already gained an extra minute on our official time. They were the best. They carried water for us, guided us, pushed us, pulled us back, they learnt all our names. Like really, after 26 miles together we were like family haha. Marian Chiriac, one of the trainers at the First Marathon group was like a guiding star. He fed us all water and food running mad among us to make sure everyone was well supplied, no one sick, no one lame. Haha. At 6.5 mile he filled my bottle and ran alongside me like he did for the past 2 or 3 training sessions I did with them. I entrusted him with my little secret. I was peeing my pants. Well, skirt. “Where can I find a toilet? I don’t think I can make it half way through. And I can’t drink water on top of water. Once it’s in the bladder it won’t sweat out if you know what I mean? Haha. He looked at me and said calmly, “I say you don’t go.” Some really negative thoughts came to my mind feeling how I could breed frogs in my belly. “You go, then you race to catch up, then you get tired. Don’t go unless you really must.” Hmmm… “Let me tell you a little story.” Suddenly there was this click in my head where there was no pressure, this felt like just a training session, we weren’t actually running the marathon right now. This man right here, was so calm and about to tell me a little story of why I shouldn’t pee. Haha. Who does that?! “There is this Olympic athlete who really had to go and as you can imagine at such a level she can’t waist time with finding a toilet. So she had to decide. Right there with all those cameras on her she pulled her panties down and peed in the middle of the street. She won the bronze medal.” I remember staring ahead listening to him. Total and absolute respect for this woman, I for one can’t even picture that scenario but I got the message haha.  

Marian leading the way

And you know what? The man was right. Somewhere along the way, that urge disappeared. I don’t know what happened to it. Maybe the bladder can sweat after all haha. Coming out of M. Kogalniceanu street, namely mile 8, Raul says, “ok, time to slow down on wasting energy. Less laughing, more running.” Easy said than done. We kept running into our friends and we’d start screaming like a bunch of loonies that you could hear us from a mile away. I saw mom twice, once on Victoriei Bd. and once on Kogalniceanu. I shouted at her to remind her to eat. Of course she forgot but at least she remembered at the second hydration point. And from her timing she seems to have kept with the pacers like I told her.

As we were coming back to Casa Poporului after separating from the HM racers, I must admit I started being agitated. I ran carefully, eyeing at the people on the side as we past the tents. I was looking for mom. I knew she had finished the race so I wanted to see her, to make sure she was ok. I was half way through at that point. But she was nowhere in sight. She had in fact finished, but being cold she went to change and forgot to come check in with me knowing I’d pass by closely. I tried not to think about it. I said “it’s fine, you know she’s fine, there’s no reason for her not to be fine.” I had to move on.

The road to the National Arena to Muncii Square was the toughest because of the cubic stones. We had to keep skipping them and the tram tracks, trying not to hit a small whole or indentation in the ground. Also, a bit windy. But it was ok. After 18.5 miles I started a mind scan of my body to see if anything in particular hurts. I had just past my last run mile so this was uncharted territory. The fun was about to begin. We had all gone quieter. The road down to Unirii Square. Boring. Long, straight, mild slopes, you could see everything ahead of you, no mystery, no surprises there. I was getting ready for the nightmare of my mind, namely the bridges on Splaiul Independentei Bd. The Dambovita River crosses Bucharest and we ran alongside it. I counted 3 bridges, we were supposed to cross on the 3^rd and then head back to the finish line on the other side. This is the second time I got tricked on this one. It wasn’t the third, it was the fourth! Fuck this shit!!! This was mile 23.5. My legs were so tired I couldn’t almost feel them. There was one moment when I wished so badly I could stop, but I had to stick with the pacers. They were my only chance. No one was talking anymore, or laughing, or gesturing. Out of the large 20 people group that had started with these pacers, we were left about 6 people, all first marathon runners. Three guys, three girls. When we finally crossed that damn bridge, I was so annoyed that I had miscalculated it again that nervousness gave me wings. I broke away from the group and ran faster. We were down to 24.5 miles.

 

The awesome pacers!

It hurt on the front of my legs, the inner thighs, more like numbness than pain. After finishing the boys made fun of me with that one. “Mela, nothing can hurt between your legs ok. You got nothing dangling there!” haha. The pacers shouted after me “that’s right Mela, leave us now after we’ve got you this far!” I was out of strength to respond. I just waved back and ran ahead. They kept encouraging us to break from the group after 21 miles but none of us had the courage to. I guess we all now understood exactly what the other runners had tried to warn us of. Second part was fucking hard! As I moved I got slightly faster and one of the guys who had kept the pace with me, caught up with me and we ran together. As we took the corner of the street and saw the finish line, something kicked in me and I got wings. Our friends and colleagues who had run the HM were stretched along the street cheering for us. I swore some bad stuff and sprinted. I don’t know how I sprinted or where I got the energy to do so anymore. My legs were tired. Really tired but somehow they were running faster than they had the entire marathon. As I was about to enter the straight line to the finish I suddenly realized what was going on. I was finishing a full marathon, I, Mela, the puny runner from a year and a half ago was now finishing her first 26 miles ever! I thought about it, I wanted it, I had hoped I would, but now I was actually doing it. I did not realize I had built up so much pressure in me. I let go and started crying so much that I almost chocked in my own tears and had to find in me to get a grip and run through the finish line. As I did I saw mom hiding behind a photographer filming me and shouting from the top of her lungs, “well done Melllllaaaa, my baby giiirrrllll!!!”

With Mihai running the last mile together

Sprint baby!

F               I                 N                  I                S                    H

The chip was tied to my shoe laces so I make sure I don’t lose it. Who the hell do you think had the strength to untie them? I literally pushed my leg forward and asked the volunteer to help me. He was so nice and did it for me. Meanwhile I was trying to control my left leg from shaking. Then another volunteer put the medal around my neck. I was living a dream and nothing else mattered. I had beaten my own expectations. I felt good, nothing hurt and I was left enough energy to run faster and sprint. Later on, the big league boys said, “Mela, you could’ve done a bit better even. But we know. We have all been afraid. It’s wiser not to push the first time. Nice surprises like this are better than vomiting and exhaustion.” I agree totally. The pacers came in afterwards and said, “Mela next time don’t trick us with 4:30 anymore. We’re going straight for 4 hours!” haha so nice of them!

With Valeria

After changing clothes, eating a bit and resting, more pictures, hugs and congratulations, mom and I left. As we were heading for the sub, we kept encouraging the runners still coming in. Almost at the end of the street we saw this elderly Japanese man, dragging, walking basically, with his hydration backpack and a tiny funny hat on his head. I love people like this! They remind me it must be ten times more difficult for them to run a marathon than it was for me. Truly an example. I hope I’m this active in my sixties. Mom says, “lets take him to the finish line Mela!” but all I’m thinking is my left leg that is literally taking a break from walking all together less running. I say fine, let’s do it. We get back on track, carrying our bags and clothes. I explain to him in English what’s happening and he suddenly comes to live. He starts smiling and gesturing and running. As we get to the finish line we stay behind yelling for him to go go go!!! Instead he turns around and bows. Jesus man! You’re so sweet, go win this race, you’re amazing!

We have all been winners this past Sunday. Running a marathon is not easy. By far. But it’s not that scary either. I didn’t hit a wall anywhere. Yes, the legs got tired, really tired but my head didn’t break. I trained as well as I could, I tried to take care of my body, I did some research, I considered my weaknesses and my strength. But I also had lots of help along the way. Let’s name some randomly, hopefully I get everyone cause my brain is running slow these days after the effort haha:

Virgil Alecu – Thank you so much for putting my running plan together, for running with me many times even before starting training!

My running group Aviatiei Weleness Center Run Team – they’ve always supported me and encouraged me and running together surely puts things into perspective.

Daniel Mirea – also from my group, a special thanks for running the longest distance in training with my mom when I couldn’t.

Raiffeisen Primul Maraton, Oana si Gabi Solomon, Marian Chiriac – who adopted me for a few trainings sessions and gave me advice.

Alin Mihai (a.k.a. Stefanel) – For Baneasa, not only for running the last mile with mom but also keeping me in check before we left for ER. Forever grateful!

Nelutu (Ion Tudor) – dear colleague and friend who is a role model of motivation and perseverance, also at his first marathon. Bravo Neluta! You are the best!

Pacers Radu Ionescu si Florin Ghetu – For real now, without you guys I would’ve surely slowed down somewhere. You were fun to run with, you were there for us, for the good and the worse, especially the worse. I know that after 18 miles we kept asking whether you’re not running too fast by any chance cause we were getting tired but you never gave up on us! You were wonderful!  

Valeria van Gronigen – My running mom, that’s what I’m calling her from now on. She ran my longest distance with me before my first HM and to encourage me when I was slowest she kept talking about food that by the end of it all I could think about was steak and polenta not pain haha. She also gave me a Marathon T-shirt for my Fun Race back a year and a half ago to encourage me to move further. I couldn’t even run a full 3 miles back then but I was so proud wearing my marathon t-shirt in the park while limping happily from my tendinitis. But this is how you build memories! Thank you!

Mom – yes, she’ll be on any list where I’m giving thanks. I love you! You’re slowly but surely evolving to the statute of Super-Bunaciune!

Florin Cazan and Doru Gavrila – my inspiration people since the day they took me out in the street and till the day I stop doing this. They dragged me into running, they criticized me, they motivated me and I love giving them a hard time with my many questions because they’re so much better and I need to learn. Kisses!  

For the technical part if it’s of any interest:

Shoes: Asics, size 38.5/7.5 (I’m a 37) Normal pronation with slight overpronation.

Equipment: Adidas skirt, Under Armour compression blouse, hydration belt from Amazon, compression socks from Decathlon

Watch: Garmin Forerunner 225 (za best!)

Nutrition:

Cytocarb2 from Cytomax / Isostar Gel wild berry flavor/ Banana energy chews.

6.5m – 8 ounce water/1 cup Cytocarb2

9.3m – 2 energy chews

12.5m - 8 ounce water/1 cup Cytocarb2

15.5m – 2 energy chews

18.6m – gel + 8 ounce water

27.7m – gel + 8 ounce water

The rest meant lots of focus on what my body tells me. Not the watch. The confidence comes from training and whatever we lacked in experience was balanced by the pacers, the event in itself and the trust that everything will be fine. And it wasn’t just fine. It was beyond expectations!

Well done runners!