#1: Jacksonville Beach, FL: "I feel happy. I feel healthy. I feel terrific!"

So apparently I'm fast at running and slow at blogging.  Yes, it's been two weeks since my first race and I have yet to post. My only excuse is, Lady Gaga was a vision as an egg at the Grammy's, causing me much distraction post-race and last weekend I jet-setted to Vegas for the week for work. Thus, my blog suffered and my apologies go out to my main girl Shaina Chechang, who is officially my accountability buddy to make sure I post.


SO, the 26.2 with Donna Half Marathon in Jacksonville Beach, FL was so good to me. Before I get to the exciting news, I'll give you a quick run-down of how the weekend went...and by quick, I mean, quick for a long-winded person so it won't actually be quick. Mary E and I arrived around 11am the day before the race and headed to our classy pad for the weekend, the Best Western. (But really, it was classy for a Best Western. It was practically a 5-star compared to the one in Morton Grove, IL circa Fall 2010... Daytona Barker and Will Metscher can vouch for that.) At this point, I've already realized my $5,000 budget for this 13 half marathon excursion is not going to last me seeing that the cab from the airport was $50. Minor detail. I'm sure I can jingle some extra cash from my piggy bank...or the ATM.

Arriving at the Jacksonville airport. 1 Day to go!

Anyways, from there we were off to the EXPO to pick up my race packet. Our cab driver, Bruce, became a dear friend of mine and Mary E's for the weekend. Minus the fact that his jamaican accent be jamaican' us crazy as we didn't know half the shit he was saying. But good ol' Brucey got us there.  Walking into the expo was like walking into a Polly Pocket with the amount of Breast Cancer pink plastered everywhere. But it was amazing. Mary E and I spent a good 2-3 hours walking the floor as I drooled over obnoxious quantities of running gear ranging from bracelets that "keep you in balance" to energy jelly beans. Mary E did surprise me with a Valentine's day gift of Fut Gloves...yes, these are actually running shoes:

My new "frog feet" in my fav. colors!                                           

They're like running barefoot, but with soles. They're meant to strengthen your feet and calves and I love them. Don't judge me on the colors- they're obnoxious, but so are frog feet shoes anyways. Go big or go home, right? Here are some other pics from the Expo. (Note my clever placement of pics to break up my paragraphs, thus making this post seem shorter so you continue to read. Muaha, I fooled you.)

Awesome medal display I'll need to hang my hardware after this adventure is complete

We signed the board :)

Signing the board why I'm running- they had these set up all along the course as motivation- so cool.

For my aunts.

Expo madness

When I showed my boss this picture, she knew exactly where I got my looks from :)

Best fan. My rock. My Mom. Thanks for coming with me!

Post-expo and bag of goodies, we strolled the streets of Jacksonville. Admittedly, if I didn't commit to starting and finishing at the same race a year later, I can't say I'd return to that "city". It was weird. and empty. and hobo-ish. (Note: on race day, we saw a much more civilized part of Jacksonville which warmed me up slightly to the idea of returning there). The rest of the day consisted of carbo-loading, stretching and passing out at a 3 year old's bedtime. 


5AM my alarm sounds and I'm up and at it, ready to run this bad boy. (Bad boy=the race, if you didn't catch my drift). Stretch, hydrate, half of a Clif Bar, and out to parking lot to wait for the shuttle bus at 5:45. 

Running stick= my best friend.

I don't wear 5AM too well. woof.

I'm sure you're assuming that it's warm in FL, seeing that I assumed the same thing. Well you know that saying, assume makes an "ass" out of both "u" and "me"? Well, Mother Nature made an ass out of me greeting me with 32 degree weather as I sported my spandex shorts. Mary E and I stood in a line of easily 400 people until 7:05 AM! (Mind you, the race started at 7:30. If Mary E wasn't there to keep me calm, I would've started stressing like Lindsey Lohan in court). The shuttle service was whacked up, but luckily we made friends with a running clan in front of us. This one lady was running her 110th marathon and was absolutely hilarious. She also knows the man who holds the world record for running the most marathons in 1 year: 107 marathons. That's more than 2 per week. Gawk. At that, I felt like a dog with my tail tucked between my legs (much like Sassy) as I thought my 13 half marathons in 13 months was impressive. Whatever, at least I'll still have functional knees when I'm 50 unlike that dude.

The shuttle got us to the line at 7:20, just enough time for me to strip down to shorts, squat in a luxurious port-a-potty and hit play on my iPod. No stretching. No warm-up jog. No way I could get to the proper pace group behind the start line. The gun went off and within moments I realized that there is only one bad thing about races with a good cause: a shit-load of walkers. And I was behind them. I spent my first mile running more laterally than forward, chasing this lil' munchkin of a woman who seemed to be doing the same to break-free from the power walkers of America. Checking my watch after the first mile pushed me to run fast the second mile, as my pace was very turtle-like among the walkers. From there, I told myself I wouldn't concentrate on the time- I just enjoyed the scenery, bobbed my head to Lil' Weezy and got into a good groove. The course was pretty awesome- downhill to begin and then through a little beach village of houses and countless supporters.

Photography compliments of Mary E, noted photographer.

I played Where's Waldo looking for Mary E in the crowds. (I knew her blue coat would stick out in the pool of pink pride). When Where's Waldo failed, I played I Spy. Still no luck...Mary E is a sneaky one. Come mile 5, no sight of momma so I quickly glanced at my watch: 39:38...just under an 8 min. mile pace. Although I felt great, I immediately thought I'd burn out. But I just kept putting one foot in front of the next and refocused my attention on the course and Ke$ha jams. Miles 5-7 took place on the beach. Let me just say, the snow in Chicago was no resistance compared to the sand that pushed back with every stride I took. But the scenery was beautiful, endless ocean just meters away. I excitedly waved to a Mary E look-alike only to find out as I actually passed her that it was in fact, a non-Mary E lookalike who just sported the same colored apparel as momma. Whoops. Off the beach and I just kept truckin' like a Ford (maybe a Chevy). I was practically smiling the entire way, enjoying the run. I felt strong, and I found myself saying "I feel happy, I feel healthy, I feel terrific!" repeatedly. (Book sellers of America know how helpful that positive affirmation is. Ew, I just ended that sentence with a preposition). 

Fast forward to mile 9 and my strength starts to slightly wither. My stomach was hungry and my legs began to get a wee bit sore. One foot in front of the other, do what you know you can do, Jenna. And then came the dreaded Mile 11. Remember how I mentioned the course was awesome and slightly downhill? Well remember that old saying, what goes up must come down? That saying works vice versa. So Mile 11 decided to be a nasty bitch: entirely uphill, up a highway ramp, which inevitably attracted no cheerers. A quick glance at my watch had me shocked: 80 min. at the start of mile 11. Still holding my 8 min. pace. What? How could this be? I've been training on a treadmill. I've never run this fast before.

Let me remind you from my last post, I said I would not focus on time for my first two races; I just said I'd be under 2 hours. What I didn't mention was that my goal (which I think I had only told to my ex back in December) for the entire YEAR of races was to eventually get down to 1h45min...which is an 8 min. per mile pace. So needless to say, seeing that I was 2.1 miles short of hitting my goal time for the entire year, became an exciting/petrifying reality. I honestly struggled mile 11. My legs burned; I was surrounded by very few runners, lacking the synergy of running with a pack; not a supporter in sight; the hill was endless. Momentarily, I thought "I can just slow down and end up running an 8:10-15 pace, that's fine." And then my two years of book-selling kicked me in the ass with a haunting yet motivational reminder of "it's not how you start, it's how you finish". And I recalled how when the summer of knocking on strangers' doors seemed to last a century, I just took it day-by-day, goal period-by-goal period. So I took that mile stride-by-stride. I picked one person and chased them down. I picked a man in a pink tutu (hey, it was a breast cancer run, but still, there's no way a man in ballerina drab was going to beat me) and chased him down. I repeated my positive affirmations and made it to the top of the hill to find the 12th mile marker. From there, it was all downhill- literally. I took off, telling myself not to look at my watch. I didn't care what my time was at this point, all I knew was that I had to run as fast as I possibly could. Mile 12 was a blur of cheerleaders and empty Gatorade cups lining the ground. And the finish line was in sight: faster, stronger, sprinting across the line, hitting my watch. I looked to see a 1:44:56 and threw up everywhere. (I should warn you that any runner is always graphically inappropriate about bodily functions, sorry. But I'm not really that sorry). I literally ran so hard I puked (this happened after my first full marathon in St. Louis in 2009). A sweet lady called for a wheelchair moments before I put my head back up after spewing everywhere and told her I was fine and walked off to collect my medal and search for the missing Mary E.

And it hit me. I beat my goal time. I ran the fastest I've ever run in my life. In not concentrating on the time and just enjoying the run, I did what I believed was impossible...or at least until late 2011. Finding Mary E in the crowd, I beamed with excitement. I wrapped myself in a really sexy foil coat (it keeps your body heat in...and yes at this point it was a whopping 37 degrees at 9:30AM), collected free food and found out my official chip time was 1:44:50. BOOM BABY. 4th in my age division of "Females 20-24" out of about 200 in the group. I am absolutely thrilled. Like seriously. I couldn't be happier with my first race. 

Post race holding my "who I'm running for" signs

Told ya my foil coat was sexy. Free muffins...nom nom nom.

Concert post-race

Love you both.

Uh, don't mind my sweat. or my hair.

Running with the ribbon.

Mary E likes to call this one "Celebrating success". Beer & lunch post-race!

That being said, I am downright scared for the next 12. I'm scared of what I can actually accomplish, now that I have to completely reset my goals. Granted, I know all races won't go as well and perhaps I won't run as fast on some of them, but now I just think to myself, "How fast can I get?" (Let me add the footnote for all you non-runners that 8 min. mile pace is not THAT fast. I'm by no means going to be the next Jesse Owens, BUT it was a fast pace for ME and my goals and that's all that matters). I can't compare to other runners, I can only challenge myself. 

So, 3 weeks away from race #2 in Atlanta, I'm prepping to challenge myself. (Well, currently I'm fighting a wicked sinus infection which is cramping my training but that's just rubbish). I'll hopefully post one more time before Hotlanta (I'm sure Shaina will get on my case about it :)). Maybe after race #2 I'll have to change my blog name to a makeshift Jimmy John's slogan, like "Jimmy Jenna's" cuz I'll be so fast you'll freak. Yupp, my jokes still suck. Okay, I'm done. Adios friends.