I'm being interviewed!

A Little Stretching before our Red Rock Relay Start

You know those fancy bloggers who get to say: "Hey, check out my interview over at {insert fancy blog name here}"?

Well, much like after Oprah Marathon finished her marathon, I too had many follow up questions to my 26.2 experience. (Ok, not really but there were a couple.)

So no, I'm not being featured anywhere; but I am just vain enough to sit down for an interview with myself (I can be, afterall, my harshest critic.) So before I lose my nerve, I better get to it.

Intro, Rolling Stone Style:

It's just after 1 on a Friday afternoon in October. I sit on a red couch in the front room of the Mangums, waiting for Sabrena to show up. She bounces in, hair straightened and slicked back off her face in a pony tail (obvious it hasn't been washed in days). Her blonde haired-blue eyed toddler (Holden, now 20 months) is asleep in the next room after a quick hour jaunt to the children's museum earlier this morning.

She's in a pink t-shirt from Smith's Marketplace, and dark denim Joes Jeans; recently scored for 20-bucks at an Urban Blues sale. (Hollah!)

The house is quiet, except for the squeaking of the hard wood floors. She looks around the room, as if the furniture has recently been rearranged making it impossible for her decide where to sit, and then flops down on the couch, a little closer to me than I'd prefer...

The Suite Spot (TSS): First off, let me congratulate you on your run. It's not often someone of your, um 'stature' shall we say, can achieve such athletic achievement.

Me: Yeah, this one goes out to all the big boned women out there! Except I'm not really big boned. Have you seen my wrists? I'm just fluffy...

TSS: But seriously, I thought you were hard core, but then I heard you actually wore shoes for the marathon. Isn't that kind of selling out?

Me: I'm glad you brought that up... I still train barefoot, mostly in my Vibrams actually. And for pretty much my entire training schedule I would run barefoot-barefoot or in the Five Fingers. But once my long runs hit more than 10 miles, even I had to admit my foot-muscles just weren't strong enough. For my Saturday runs (ranging from 10 - 22 miles) I'd wear a 4-yr old beat up pair of Saucony tennis shoes Danny convinced me to buy explaining that 'tennis shoes are sooooo comfortable.' Truth is, I'd wear flip-flops year round if I could (or Jimmy Choos if I had a million dollars). I really hate socks.

But for the race I bought a pair of (women's) Saucony Kinvaras. They're shoe-like, with hardly any stability but some cushion for the feet. But I wish I could've run barefoot... then maybe my toe nails wouldn't be black and falling off right now.

TSS: But you're still kind of a sell out, right?

Me: I guess so.

TSS: On the subject of selling out, what's with the Red Bull, Miss I-make-my-own-crackers-because-we-try-not-to-eat-processed-food." Isn't that just a bit hypocritical?

Me: Yes.

TSS: OK, glad we agree...

Me: I reacquainted myself with the beverage in September at the Red Rock Relay. I was running the very last leg of the race; a 7 and a 1/2 mile scorcher into Zion on an steady incline when it was over 95 degrees outside (the pavement made it feel like 100-plus.) I had already run two legs, totaling over 10 miles; and we were operating on two hours of sleep in 36 hours-- gotta love those relays! Since I am pretty careful about what I put into my body, I just had this feeling it might be a good experiment.

New 10k (plus!) Personal Record first leg of the RRR with Wikky's Watch

I downed a can after 3 miles and was able to finish and feel good. There was (and still is) a brief moment after I drink the stuff that I feel like the Hulk because I get crazy endorphins rushing through my body; but I clench my fists and jaw, keep going and then it's fine. I ONLY use it on race days; and I've only used it for the RRR, the day I ran my 22 miler and for the actual marathon. So it's not like I'm addicted.

And I don't see it becoming a part of my normal training regimen. I don't GU's. I try to stick to real food (granola bars, , fruit like bananas and oranges, maybe a PB & honey sandwhich), but I do allow myself an indulgence...speaking of, I wish I could run with cupcakes in my back pocket, now that would be a great race!

TSS: Ohhhh-kay. (I schooch a little further away from her on the couch.) True or false...

Me: True.

TSS: I didn't ask the question.

Me: Then I pick, D, all of the above.

TSS: Let's move on. You can't really have enjoyed the marathon as much as you say you did. Isn't that just blogging sensationalism? And let's be honest, you are kind of a spaz.

"I dance-run because the running-man doesn't give me the mileage jogging does"

Me: Yes, agreed... on the spaz part. But that really is how I remember it. I think for me, I went slow enough that I really could enjoy it. I got to take in the amazing scenery, visit with awesome people and have an experience.

I have friends that are fast, friends that qualify for Boston and friends that try to qualify for Boston and friends that run because they have to....

And I've had times in my life when I've had to run for other spots (like volleyball). The mile and a half we did seemed like an eternity...but it was for time, and to impress coaches and not lose a starting spot, etc etc. I just wanted to run a marathon, get it checked off the list BUT enjoy it. And I guess you could say if you do it in 4;45 minuets it's not really running... it is jogging; but that's ok for me. I feel like I've got my whole life to work on getting faster.

See, unlike a lot of people, I finished a marathon and know I will do it again. Running (however you define it) is a part of me now, so I better make sure I enjoy it since we're going to be together for a long time. The marathon really was great. It's the aftermath that sucks...

TSS: Sore muscles, not being able to walk down stairs?

Me: Well sure, I mean my muscles weren't really that bad. I was more sore after Red Rock. But exercising for that long does something to your insides. Besides the toenails and blisters, I really thought my digestive system would never be the same.

TSS: I'm not sure our readers want details...

Me: Oh I don't think they do. But I will say my brother-in-law is a doctor, and he thinks it's caused from blood being routed to other parts of your body for so long it takes a while to normalize. I'm paraphrasing of course, but I will say I should've eaten sooner after the race, and once I did eat, sweet potato french fries were not a good choice.

TSS: Um, yeah. I really think we should move on...

Me: Right, well, my son's going to waking up soon; and we're headed up to Park City this weekend for a ladies only half-marathon in support of breast cancer, so....

TSS: What about your toenails?

Me: Hopefully they grow back. if not I'll just put some polish on their where a toe nail is supposed to be. Besides, we're approaching boot season anyway.

The details...at least some of what I remember

Ride the bus to the startline with my brother-in-law (he suggests I NOT sing kum-bay-ya). Warmest start temperature ever (or so they told us.) Stand in line to use the ladies (aka gross port-a-potty). See one of my running gurus (CPB) and her family - I take it as an omen I'm going to have a great race.

Fall in line with the 5-hr plodders (and the Cliff Pace Team member); and make a pledge to not go out too fast. Feels great to be running with people who are easy-like-sunday morning. No pressure for fast - I feel great. I've had a Odwalla bar, I drink the Gatorade at the Aid Stations and never turn down a piece of banana. Visiting and taking it all in, there's really no need for my ipod at this point. Vow to turn it on once the race gets hard (most likely at the Veyo hill).

I find Brittany. Brittany is a long legged twenty-something blonde college student, who is also a first-timer. She's my running friend for about 4 miles. She uses my chapstick. We bond. We inch ahead of the pacers but keep them within an ear's shot.

Some how 7 miles have passed; and we're already at 'the Veyo hill.' Brittany tells me it's not that bad (she's been training on the course), and I think I'll probably need my ipod. But I don't. The Veyo hill is manageable. There's about 4 more miles of rolling hills after Veyo's 1-mile climb reminding me that whoever said the Saint George Marathon is all downhill has NEVER run the first half of the race (or the Winchester hill.)

My set list is 3 hours long; I figure I'll start listening to it after 2 hours. We (Blonde Brittany and Me) keep inching ahead of the pacers. I check my Garmin watch. We're pacing around the 11 - 11:30; and getting further from the 5-hr pack. I hit 2 hours and keep pulling away. I stick my ear buds in, and push play: CAKE's "Going the Distance" begins my anthem for the race. I turn around. Brittany is smiling, and I keep going the distance. I never see her again.

Before I know it I've hit 13 miles and am still feeling good (about 2 hrs 30 minutes, on track for my 5-hr goal). My pace picks up a little; but I feel pleasant. I pull the Red Bull from the back of my water pack. I flick the lid with precision as I trot along. The red liquid energy sprays all over and makes my hand sticky. I don't really care. It tickles my throat but goes down relatively smoothly. I throw the empty can on the side of the road. It feels weird to litter -- even in a marathon. I turn around to the men behind me and muse "That feels weird. Just so you know, I feel bad about it." They give some slight courtesy laughs and soon after, the taurine and caffeine kick in.

Around the corner (a mile, maybe two?) my boys are waiting. It nearly takes my breath away I am so happy to see them. I feel euphoric. I feel great. In fact, I feel so good I'm almost afraid because 13 miles has NEVER felt this good, but I'm closer to mile 15! I hand off my knock-off camel back to Danny, give Holden a kiss, squeeze both of them and down 4 more ounces of a Red Bull Danny has brought with him. (He later confesses to finishing off the other 4 ounces as apparently tending Holden on race day has made him in need of a little 'pick-me-up' too.)

Before I know it, I'm at mile 17 or so. I've been posing for the cameras, wanting to make sure I have at least one happy picture of my run. But I don't have to try too hard because new people make me hyper, and cameras make me down-right spastic. I pull a 360 and the photographer makes me feel like I'm a paparazzi darling. The other runners around me vacillate between laughter and looks of disgust.

I look at the Garmin; and I'm on track for a negative split! Now 5 hours isn't the goal. I could pul around a 4:45! Is this really happening? Where's the wall? The Winchester Hill approaches and something weird is happening to my body. My feet suddenly have an aversion to the ground. I'm running uphill, but my feet feel like they are skipping on clouds. I look at my watch and I am pacing just over 9 minute miles -- uphill. This is not normal for me. In fact this is downright insanity. Holy Balls Red Bull really does give you wings! And the some. I don't fight it. I just revel in the sublime sensation. I let my feet carry me. At some point my pace slows a little; but I'm still holding around 10-minute miles.

I see another of my running gurus (BBS-one who helped get me into all of this). It's one more lift to my spirits. I keep going. It stands to reason that eventually I'll hit a wall, but it hasn't come...yet. I pass mile marker 22; the furthest I've ever run. I bust through it. People along the course are walking and stopping to stretch; and one guy is on the side of the road with paramedics. I say a little prayer for him and keep going.

Mile 24 is around the corner. I've thought about this point: the causes I would run for. The people I would think about. How I would dig deep into the innermost vault of Sabrena-ness

and find the strength to continue on. Because the wall is coming right? Any moment it's going to hit me. It's almost here...

But instead, I let out a wild yell:

"AYE-YA-YA-YA-YEAH!"

The spectators along the sidewalk don't know quite what to do with me: so they cheer, and I smile and keep on keepin' on. And my race continues... no wall, but the bliss continues (well, as blissful as running 20-plus miles can be. It's a sliding scale, people.)

Someone is passing out popsicles around mile 25. The orange high fructose corn syrup feels cold and fabulous down my throat. I run with the small wooden stick it in my hand and am grinning from ear to ear.

The final stretch, I can see the balloons.

I pull out my headphones to hear the crowd and take it all in.

Another of my running gurus (WHH) is with her husband on the sidelines. She in grinning and cheering, and I babble on about how amazing I feel. She runs me in for a few strides. My emotions are so high I feel like my cells are going to explode. I'm almost in tears. I see my parents and Danny and Holden and my sister and brother-in-law. And they are smiling too. My face probably looks like I got botox at this point because my grin is from more than ear to ear.

I yell again to the crowd:

"AYE-YA-YA-YA-YEAH!"

They erupt in thunderous applause.

I salute a National Guardsman. And then I leap over the finish line.

And in 4 hours and 44 minutes I have had the time of my life

and just happened to run 26.2 miles.

(You can check out the full photo gallery on facebook or clicking here.)

To be continued....

I came, I ran

26.2

I did it! It was awesome and I loved it, and I am certain I will do it again. Even when it was hard, I loved it.

4 hours, forty-four minutes and change (15 minutes faster than my goal time of 5 hours.)

More on the race later, but it behooves me to say that I never would have guessed I would have loved it as much as I did. Sure I thought I would love the finish line (and I did); but for one of the first times in my life, I actually enjoyed the journey.

Gotta Run....

PS. Yes, I wore shoes. :)

Fun with Popsicles & HFCS

Let's get it out there...summer is a horrible time to blog. And when you're a mom with no school-age children to let you know when summer is officially over, one tends to treat the hot weather as an indication that your time can continue until the leaves change.

I've decided I really don't enjoy blogging in the summer. It takes too long download & post pictures, try to write witty captions, and keep track of what parts of your life are ok (ie "FABULOUS") to share with the unknown cyber-masses when five minutes ago you were cleaning up your kids pee off the floor or dealing with family crises that really should be reserved for that great novel you plan on writing someday or for spilling the beans in the family Christmas letter. But then again, who really airs their dirty laundry in the Yule-tide yearly bragfest?

I digress...and I'm not making much sense, anyway.

Some author said the problem with writing about life is that we're too busy living it. Who said that? I don't know, but someone should've said that...because really, when life is so great, who has time to type 800 words about it?

So lately I have resorted to posting random pictures of my kid doing normal things that are mostly just interesting to me. One because I don't have a cool camera, and B) Because with a few rare exceptions, I'm pretty sure I stopped being funny a couple of years ago. (And to think I used to get paid for writing...heavy sigh... ah, those were the days.)

Hello blog, you have now become a journal. But I'm not posting any real secrets here. I think I'll mostly keep up the pretenses... everyone knows I'm a mess. A hot-mess, eh? But a mess nonetheless.

Soooo, back to the real point this entry: Popsicles.

In my never ending journey to re-create processed supermarket staples from scratch (e.g. crackers, granola, graham crackers just to name a few) I decided popsicles were definitely in order for this summer. So here's Holden going to town on a plain yogurt and blueberry variety.

For a while, I was feeding him these as part of his normal meal-time foodstuffs. He thought he was eating dessert first, I felt like a sneaky mom.


Double fisting... what what?!?!?

A few weeks later, Danny had his work party and Holden tried his first Orange Creamie.

Since he passed the year mark, I have tried to be less obsessive about his food choices when we're out and about. We try to focus on eating whole/local foods at home, so that we all can relax when we don't have as much control over the food situation.

That said, when he picked out his popsicle I didn't check the label. I didn't count the ingredients or look for the diabolical high fructose corn syrup or any of it's nasty neighbors.

I tried not to hover.

I didn't follow him around with wipes (I followed at a safe distance). I just kept reminding myself that I keep a change of clothes in the diaper bag for a reason; and I just let him be a kid.

It was awesome! A liberating experience for all... and some of the delicious treat even made it in his mouth!

A month later, at my friend Bree's house, the kid tried fruit snacks for the first time in his life. I know what you're thinking: Diet Coke, Twinkies and a life of crime are just around the corner. Yes the downward spiral has begun.

Needless to say, it has been a wild and crazy summer!

For the Record

Saturday was my birthday (you may have already seen this on fb?), and here's what I did:

• Ran 8 miles with my husband down Millcreek Canyon; and then proceeded to chalk up another 14 after for a total of 22 FREAKING MILES! (If I am not ready for the marathon in 2 weeks, I will never be ready. So the taper begins)
• Drank a Red Bull - the second one in a week... (prior to this it had been about 8 years.)
• Ate cupcakes... seriously, way too many of them.
• Taught Holden how to sign "Beautiful flowers" because he kept admiring the ones Danny got me in honor of my big day
• Went to Salt Lake Running with Danny & Little Bits to purchase *this beauty with gift certificates from Danny's family and my grandmother in love
• Went to the swanky Metroplitan restaurant for my bday dinner and ate truffle potatoes with red wine sauce in a potato cylinder and EVERYTHING ON THIS MENU between me and Mr. Mangum
• Ate another cupcake before bed
• Went to sleep realizing I am the candidate most likely to be kicked off "The Biggest Loser" competition I enrolled in two weeks ago.

What a Perfect Day.

*Thanks to Wikky & TJ for letting me use their Garmins at Red Rock Relay last week. I am a believer!!!

Obligatory Time Square Tourist Photo-Op

So we got home from NYC last night. It was a quick -- but friggin' delightful -- holiday trip. More updates, photos, etc later. But for now I will say that Holden was (is?) beloved in that city: not a lot of blond-haired-blue-eyed babies out there.

This is just to wet your whistle ... or whet your appetite. Or if you're into mixing metaphors like me, wet your appetite.

Not Carrots.

Danny took Holden up to his parent's place in Upstate Utah (aka Eden) Saturday and they spent some quality guys time together. I had a great GNO up Milcreek Canyon and spending the first night alone in my bed without my boys since... well, it's my first night away from Holden ever.

This video was waiting for me in my inbox when I got home. At face value the 55-seconds may not seem like that big of a deal, but for me it reminded me what a great dad Danny is, and the exuberance in Holden. What a great laugh and what an amazing kid.

Love you both. Hurry home boys.