Ice and rest have helped my back sort of return to normal. Well, I can put weight on my left leg and there is no longer the horrible shooting pain of yesterday morning, when I had to use crutches to come into work. I'm still moving a little slowly. My boots didn't zip all the way up because my calves are swollen... or did they just grow huge with all of the strain.

I had made a commitment to myself. Beat Oprah, or try again. I didn't have any clauses about her running a flat course versus me running hills, just as I didn't use a body mass to time ratio to calculate an adjusted finish time given my (assumed) more slight frame.

So now, the new goal is to beat Puff Daddy / P Diddy / Diddy. He did run a sub 4 when you adjust for when he crossed the starting line. I realize that. Stretch goal is to qualify for Boston. And all of this will happen in Napa. I've put together a training group of awesome women with a shared goal of visiting beantown. This time, I'm actually going to train.

Well, I finished it and am sporting my graceful silver Tiffany "running girl" necklace as proof.

Race day did not quite go down as planned. We started off strong, though I was very careful to remember Cheryl's advice that the first 10k determines the last 10k. We banked a few minutes, thinking that our goal would be in striking distance. I took the hills a bit more slowly than I had planned, but I was trying to stick to the pace bracelet, and I was weary of tiring too quickly. I made up great time to catch up to Lynora on the downhills, as she is hesitant to run those quickly, whereas I let myself fly. Perhaps too much, for at around mile 16, my lower back started cramping up, sending sharp pains through my rear end and hamstrings. I started running intervals to work through the pain and to conserve energy. I hadn't eaten enough at breakfast. I wasn't hungry, and I didn't want to force myself because I didn't want to stop and use the restroom. Stupid.

My running coach found me at mile 21, so stopped for a few minutes to have Icy Hot applied to my lower back and down my hamstring. It made a world of difference. I ran well for over a mile, gaining some ground on the time I had lost. But the numbness wore off, and each step was painful. I had expected muscle pain, but this was something quite different - a jolting, shooting pain.

I admit I cried off and on during the last two miles as I watched my time grow longer and longer, with my stretch goal and normal goal times firmly out of reach. With less than a mile left, I stopped running and started walking. An older gentleman said, "Hey, keep going. You can see the end." And with those words, I started to jog, and I thanked him for his pep talk.

My back up goal time was to beat Oprah's 4:29:20, and I completed the marathon in 4:30:10. Being so close yet so far from that back up goal really kills me. But Cheryl checked on me after and pointed out the obvious. Had it not been for my injury, which happened relatively early on, I would have smashed my goal. It also felt great having helped train and encourage at the race a number of participants who did so well. I am proud of them and of Lynora who ran it in 4:16.

In the grander scheme of things, when I originally signed up to do this, it was sort of a lark. My running buddy at the time mentioned it and I told her she was crazy. With my work schedule, how would I ever train for a marathon? I registered with the expected finish time of 4:30 - 4:45. And as I got stronger and pushed myself, I saw that even though I was only running 2 days a week, I was doing as well as the 6-day-a-week runners I was helping to train. But I should keep in mind my original goal and be happy, I suppose. My Club Run SF experience was awesome. I hope to do it all again next year, but faster and stronger and without injury.

Before my marathon debut. What a week leading up to it. Horrible work hours, thanks to earnings season. The feeling that I'm coming down with a cold. Impaired sleep, even for those few hours that I can rest. Bad allergies. Cramps in my hamstrings and sore knees. But I am pumped up and ready! I've adjusted my time goal, somewhat, to consider my lack of physical spunk and my runnin partner's jet lag (she flew back frmo Asia on Tuesday morning). We're determined to finish, and I think that beating Oprah's time is soundly within reach.

During the past week, Gordon's parents have been staying with us.

The visit started off with the paramedics boarding the plane to resuscitate his dad who passed out as the plane was approaching the airport. The flight had been delayed and full of turbulance. And, given that his parents are not used to travels, flight delays and the like stress them out.

We had plans to take a trip to Yosemite for the weekend. One of his dad's life goals was to see Yosemite. But, he wasn't feeling well, so we had to cancel. We took a day trip and had to pull over because his dad's leg was in so much pain. I called my sister for her vascular medical expertise, and she advised that we take him to the hospital. Not wanting to be alarmist, we ate lunch and then hurried back to pick up the health insurance policy (because I'm detail-oriented about such things) and take him to the hospital. We waited for hour before being seen, and dad enjoyed a lovely room with a view and breakfast in bed the next morning, while mum finally got to sleep a bit. More tests and scans were run, and dad was finally released Sunday afternoon. Through it all, the family kept up their humor and spirits.

They've been taking it easy over the past few days. Last night, we enjoyed a lovely (though late) dinner at Uncle T's, during which Torsten managed to disclose Gordon's sore back from sleeping on the couch (we intended for that to remain a secret), Gordon disclosed our burglary, much to dad's concern (we also intended for that topic not to be raised), and dad vowed never to return to American soil.

It's been fun having them here. They are lovely people who view the world so differently. His mum is impressed that I drive confidently and attack the hills with vigor and little rollback. She doesn't drive. His dad thinks it's crazy that I'm usually the last person to work, as I run like hell to get seated by 6AM. They take time to appreciate watching the water or observing the colors of shrubbery. They worry about being charged extra for the breakfast dad was served at the hospital and snack on potato chip sandwiches. They seek out tacky souvenirs for their friends at home. They are incredibly proud of their son, and they seem to think that I'm OK too, despite being refreshingly naive about things like where I went to school or what I do for a living. Mum thinks I look great in my running gear and is impressed I can run 20-some odd miles and walk to tell about it. Dad thought my simple meal of steak, cauliflower, and mushrooms was "gorgeous." They focus on what's right and good.

We're both taking the day off tomorrow to spend some time with them. I am imposing this pressure on myself to pack year's worth of American vacation experiences into one day. But I need to remind myself that if they are impressed that I can drive a stick up a hill or saute mushrooms, it won't take too much effort to provide them with a memorable experience. I will miss their shiny, happy outlook when they're gone, though my back will be glad to reclaim the bed.

As is likely obvious, running is top of mind lately. Last Saturday was our final long run. I logged 5 miles in the morning pre-run instead of helping people check in. Had to get in my 22 miles in time to shower and head to Berkeley for Cal football, and running 22 miles at a training pace takes me about 4 hours. Add an hour for the aid station breaks and rounding up for participants. I pushed myself during my first 5 solo miles and my last 3. The 14 in between I had to run with a group, so those were at a steady, even pace.

On Friday, my running partner took the day off from work to run in the cool of the morning. She did 24 miles in 4 hours and is on track for her 4 hour race-day pace.

When I finished my run, I commented that completing 26.2 miles in 4 hours was going to be tough for me. Gordon asked, with wide-eyed innocence, why I had to run with a time goal in mind. This comment stunned me. Who runs a race without a time goal? I thought it was as ludicrous as going to an outlet mall without your credit card or feasting at cheap chinese in anything but a garment with an adjustable waistband. I thought, "He is so clearly not Asian."

I shared the story and my confusion with my running partner, also an Asian female, and we shared a huge laugh. Run without a goal? Then we realized, there is a reason why we've both been in therapy and constantly feel the pressures of inadequacy, while this happy-go-lucky bloke is, well, constantly happy-go-lucky. Perhaps we can take comfort in knowing that we are not alone.

Because we were short on pace leaders for the day, I twisted Gordon's arm into helping out. He led a group on a 14-mile run, and he commented after how the conversation snippets he heard from various runners at different times during the run tended to be from Asian females, speaking about which business schools they had attended, giving advice to others who were in the application process. Yikes! I am a stereotype! While he was bewildered at the sameness of these women who had woken early on Saturday to push themselves physically, I shrugged it off as reflections of me and so many people I know who are just like me.

I'm not claiming it's logical, mind you. I don't understand why it is that setting a goal and not achieving it brings this sense of "shame to the family." Setting a goal that does not stretch oneself (for example, merely to finish a marathon) and not achieving it brings even more shame. It's as though the fear of shame and losing face coupled with the solace that comes with suffering is somehow supposed to motivate us to achieve, achieve, achieve, and emerge better, in some way. It's silly, but it's true.

Ironically, perhaps I run with a time goal in order to escape the ultimate challenge of figuring out all of this competitive sillyness.