Fitness Files: A little heat can’t stop this champion

Impossible! Two consecutive years of blazing L.A. Marathon heat!

Last year’s heat squelched my final miles. Paralyzing leg cramps stole my happy finish.

Now, in 2015, I raged at the 10-day forecast. Sunday, March 15, temperatures rose from 87 to 91 degrees when I stopped looking.

Still, I harbored a secret desire to stick to my race plan — reclaim past marathon times around four hours, 20 to 30 minutes and beat last year’s four-hour-and-57-minute finish.

In 2014, I shared race prep articles with Daily Pilot readers, promising a first place among women in the 70 to 74 age group. Even though I brought home first place, I had a black memory of the race. I do not enter to limp through the finish.

This year’s expo killed my 4:30 race plan. Star Blackford, an ultra-marathoner, spoke at the Los Angeles Convention Center Expo, where runners pick up their race-day numbers. She said runner’s temperatures are around 14 degrees higher than the ambient air.

91+14=105 degrees — worse than the flu! Race plan out the window. Unmoored, I complained and got advice from friends and family.

“Visualize cool,” said Peggy.

“Take along a neck scarf to wet,” said Judy. Since we both hate sports drinks, she said, “Dilute Gatorade in cups of water.”

“Keep your form even when hot,” said Dave.

“Drink early and often,” said Paul.

“Don’t kill yourself,” said Ken.

“Even if you don’t like Gatorade, drink,” ordered Dr. Michael.

“Walk though the water stops,” said Judge John.

A blog advised dropping ice down your shirt and pants. Another said take salty pretzels.

Even as I gave up my speedy plan, I kept my compression pants and socks. They’d surprised me by making a difference during training. True, they cover my whole leg with heavy fabric, but maybe they help prevent cramps.

Race day: Up at 2:40 a.m., met friends at 3:20 a.m. Reached Dodger Stadium two hours early. Time to eat my peanut butter sandwich. My husband polished off my salty pretzels, so I swallowed plain old salt.

Registering late, assigned to a race corral way back from the starters. Cheating, I breached an early corral to run in coolest a.m. temperatures.

Horn sounded.

Running through initial stiffness, I arrived at mile 3, walking, guzzling diluted electrolyte drinks and dropping extra cups of water on my neck scarf, head and shoulders. Found ice twice during the race and, yep, stuck it in shirt and pants. Lovely.

Doing well at mile 5 when I found myself smacked into the asphalt. No warning. No time to stick out a saving foot. Boom! Must’ve been a pot hole.

Generous runners gathered. Not hurt, I refused help, but was thankful for the heavy compression pants. Past falls, I’ve ripped through workout pants into skin, but this time, pants held — knee only lightly scraped under the fabric. The fall: a nonissue.

I disciplined myself to relax, focus on maintaining my form, giving gratitude for the fact that nothing hurt, ignoring distractions — no sightseeing. However, avoiding the next pothole, I spotted a gold star underfoot — Hollywood Boulevard. On Hill Street, I blessed the Korean drummers, part of the marathon’s planned street entertainment. Their strong rhythm kept me peppy, galloping the long Hill Street upgrade.

Against all advice, I went out fast, reaching for 10-minute miles, my faster marathon pace. Everyone criticizes me for starting too fast, but my body does what it does and I go for it.

Guess what? The cloud cover cooled me. Yes, it was steamy. Recorded temperatures topped last year, but without sun beating down, I ran — except for my new strategy of walking though volunteer tables, downing as much electrolyte as tolerable.

Dividing the race into two segments of nine miles and a remaining seven, I chomped electrolyte chews the first nine, a chocolate bar for the next nine and crunchy chocolate balls for the last seven. I never hit the wall, but I got slower — 11- to 12-minute miles.

Still, against advice to run at a steady pace, I poured it on when I spotted older female runners. Never good at judging age, I used the presence of ladies with the mature look as motivation to move up in the crowd.

With no leg cramps, I ran fast across the finish line! I still “had it in the tank,” as runners say, to make up for my shame of 2014.

Weeks earlier, when I told my friend Laurie that I’d signed up late for L.A., without a year of serious training, she said, “Of course, you have to run L.A. this year and defend your title.”

I did, came in first again in the 70-74 Female Division. My time was 5:06. My slowest marathon. I didn’t care.

Newport Beach resident CARRIE LUGER SLAYBACK is a retired teacher who ran the Los Angeles Marathon at age 70, winning first place in her age group. Her blog is lazyracer@blogspot.com.