He wanted to impart some of the truths Bruce Denton had taught him, that you don't become a runner by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many days, weeks, months, and (if you could finally come to accept it) years. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials. How could he make them understand?On December 29th, 2013, Saba passed away. Everyone loses grandparents. Most people lose four. But something was different about Saba. He was a Holocaust survivor, and I don't mean like a managed-to-hide Holocaust survivor or pretended-he-was-Christian Holocaust survivor or moved-just-in-time Holocaust survivor. Not to belittle any of those. Surviving is surviving. But he survived a Nazi death camp. With no education past the age of eight, he went on to be an engineer. He was the kindest, most giving person I have ever met. And in my mind, he was immortal. If you can survive a Nazi death camp, you can survive anything.
I learned the hard way that nobody can escape death. Every step I took became a tribute.
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| Savta, Dad, me, Lymor, and Saba |
MONTH BY MONTH
January
On January 1st, 2014, I woke up feeling like my stomach was going to explode. I had to volunteer for the Resolution Run 5K, so I decided to just take a Zofran and gut it out. I survived the volunteer work but the pain got worse, so I went to the ER. Not a great way to start the year.
My coach had me take it easy when I started running again. But I wanted to do more. When most people are sad, I think they tend to withdraw from their interests. I'm not like that. I drown myself in them. They distract me.
By the end of the month, with nothing to owe to my own patience and everything to owe to good coaching, I was running pretty well again. Take that, life!
February
I opened up the season with a rust-buster of a 5K, Love 'em or Leave 'em, in 18:51, a road PR. And why stop there? I was in awesome shape. I threw in the FSRC 15 miler in 1:40:35 for 4th. I didn't even run all-out. I started at marathon pace and gradually picked it up. I was invincible. This was going to be the best season ever.
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| Highest highs and lowest Lowes at the FSRC 15M |
I continued on my little invincibility stint for most of the month. It was hard to breathe, though, and I wasn't sure why. But Kimber had allergies, and that meant I probably was making it up and didn't also have allergies. I had a blatant asthma attack during a workout, which my coach called "exercise-induced bronchospasm." I looked it up. It was asthma. Whatever. I didn't have asthma. It was in my head.
The stomach pain came back at the end of the month. I went back to the hospital. Still no cause. Less than a week later, I decided to make my 10000m debut on the track. I mean, why not, right?
It was probably the worst race of my life. Predictably. So I drowned my sorrows in volunteer work, then in ice cream, then in dancing the night away at a gay bar with my teammates. Is that really all you've got, life?
April
I took a trip to Boston to watch the marathon and run the B.A.A. 5K. I told myself that the 5K was "just for fun." Secretly, I put myself under a lot of pressure to run 18:15, the time I had magically decided I was capable of running, or at least 18:30, the time I actually knew I was capable of running.
Then I got to the starting line. Our numbers were in order from fastest to slowest. Pretty much nobody actually knew that. I remember trying to walk in front of someone whose number was a few thousand higher than mine. He yelled at me. I told him I was going to run 5:50 pace. He sarcastically said that was really slow and he could run faster than that. I told him if that was true, he should also move up toward the front.
Then we were off and I was stuck behind hundreds of people who didn't understand what seeded entries are, zig-zagging to 6:07. I panicked and hammered out a super fast second mile, then died a painful death and finished in 19:02. You do the math. My teammate Valerie, who ran a much smarter race, passed me during the last mile.
I was not happy, but whatever. I had a marathon to watch! I got to write about the marathon. I had a strong sense of duty. It made me feel better.
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| Teammate Katie Conlon ran a huge PR and smiled the whole way |
I was two-and-two, looking for a personal victory at Cinco de Mayo. Seattle had its first hot week leading up to the race. Dehydrated, allergy-ridden, and (as I later found out) iron-deficient, I rode the Struggle Bus to 1:27:30. It was the most painful race I have ever run. I have no idea how I made it to the finish line, let alone in a not-too-terrible time, albeit not at all what I was looking for. It sucked, it really sucked, and everyone who saw me at the end could see just how much it sucked, but it was the toughest I had ever been. I had transcended. Or some shit.
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| I won a water bottle for dehydrating myself to the point of almost fainting |
June
Post-surgery was weird. My core strength was totally gone. I strained my diaphragm trying to get back into running too quickly and I was totally convinced I had a blood clot and was going to die. I got really, really depressed for two weeks, and I didn't have running to help me feel better.
When June finally arrived, I was healthy and ready to go. I decided to open with a double debut in the 1500m and 800m at Northwest Regionals. 5:09 / 2:36. The former converted to a 1600m PR so I guess I'll count it.
I finished the month with a 5000m race at an All-Comers meet. I had an asthma attack during the race. Turns out I'm allergic to basically everything. Whatever, life. I've got this.
July
The asthma attack turned out to be a positive event, because I went to an allergist, started medication, and began getting weekly allergy shots. My running became a lot more consistent.
In mid-July, I had the opportunity to race the 10000m in 85 degree heat at Club Nationals because that's fun or something. It was actually awesome. Times were slow because of the heat, but I came back late in the race to pass Denver and take 8th place, completing the Club Northwest sweep. I hadn't been expected to score, but it had been a personal goal, so I was very happy with my racing.
August
I topped off my summer season with 38:56 at the Railroad Days 10K, a PR by almost a minute, enough to win my age group, despite being injured for several weeks leading up to the race. There's really not much more to say there.
I took the rest of the month off to let my lingering peroneal tendonitis finally heal.
September
I opened my season in Israel, because why not? It was hot, a different kind of hot, a thick sunny hot that permeates the air and your skin and your bones until you melt, a hot that only native Israelis grow immune to. I won. It was a terrible race though.
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| Feeling hot, hot, hot |
October
Fall, fall, sweet cross country fall. Opened with a 24:09 hilly XC 6K at WWU. It was the same exact time as last year. I was out too slow. A week later I raced with a bad cold at Emerald City Open. 24:46 on Lower Woodland. Bad run. Felt terrible. Everything hurt. Couldn't walk for the next couple of days.
November
I returned to Lower Woodland Park for my second time this year and sixth time over three years. I ran PNTF Championships in 23:55, a 46 second course PR. It was glorious.
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| My new teammate and training partner Tayler, who doesn't like this picture, ran even better |
December
I wasn't ready to call my season over. Which is why I'm lucky, in a way, that I got to go to XC Club Nationals in Bethlehem, PA. It was really a matter of circumstance. Ruth Perkins, one of our top seven runners, got hurt and couldn't race. I felt kind of bad going on those terms. I didn't want Ruth to be hurt. Another sort-of alternate turned down the opportunity.
I got the email just a few weeks before the race. I said yes three minutes later.
I ran a 3000m time trial in the Dempsey as a tune-up in 10:57. It wasn't supposed to be (and honestly wasn't) all-out, so seven seconds slower than my PR was really promising.
The trip to Bethlehem was the best weekend of my life so far. I ran 23:25, so almost my PR, and very consistent. But I had the freaking time of my life.
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| Love these girls to death |
LESSONS LEARNED
1. I'm one tough cookie. I don't know where that phrase comes from, since it makes me picture a really stale, crumbly cookie, and nobody actually likes those. But whatever. It's true. I can take anything and come back stronger. I get it from Saba.
2. Focusing on helping other people takes away the internal pressure I feel when I race. Joining the board has been awesome for me. Suddenly it's not me, me, me; it's team, team, team. Is Katie going to run that huge PR? (Yes.) Is she going to qualify for Trials? (I'd put my money on next year.) What is Ruth going to run at Twin Cities? (Spoiler Alert: 2:40:02.) Is Ashley going to keep up her streak of running a PR at every single XC meet this season? (Almost.) How is Megan going to handle her first XC season back post-baby? (How does leading the team at Club Nationals sound?) I can't be nervous. I'm just a part of something bigger.
3. Some days, it's smarter not to race. But I'm not mature enough to hold myself to this. Which is what coaches are for. So I have a deal with my coach about this. And we communicate. It's cool.
4. Don't challenge life. Seriously. It's not worth it. As I reveled in just how much I could overcome, I got MRSA in my ear. I tried to run with it and my peroneal tendonitis came back. Not fun! If life is easy for you, just enjoy it for a little.
5. Being out of shape won't kill you. Actually, all of my best seasons have been after forced longer breaks. So maybe MRSA is really a blessing for someone like me.
6. Be assertive about your health. I never thought I'd figure out the cause of my stomach pain. But I kept trying. I figured it out. And now I'm healthy. I thought my breathing problems were in my head. They weren't. I figured it out. And now I'm healthy. Fight for your health. It is the most important thing.
DEAR SABA,
I will never have to go through what you went through, but your strength lives on in me, and I can show it to the world through sport. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials.
Love,
Talia
