I Took a Vacation Day To Run My Own Marathon...

I'm still working on the design of the finisher medal (note: singular), but I'm thinking it'll strongly resemble a wine bottle.

Please allow me to take you on the journey of my first ever solo training marathon.

I had 24 miles on my schedule this week as my long run. Due to Caitlyn scheduling, I had to do it today. I was leery of the timing as I just completed 24 miles this past Sunday up at Pumpkinman, but had no choice. Then when I was mapping out my route last night I thought "hey - why do 24 tomorrow when I can do the full 26.2?". Logical, no? Doing that would also bring my 7 day total mileage to something that started with an 8, and ends with a 0. I know this is only because of the close proximity of super long runs, but I'll take it; I've never seen that number before!  And with that the route was set, cue card made, and to bed I went!

I got up at the hour of ungodly thirty, and went through the motions. I've struggled with nutrition always, so I'm always changing up blocks/gels/beans/etc hoping I'll find the magic potion. Grabbed a fistful of nutrition, $5, my handheld and headed out.

I repeated "stupid slow" and "let the run come to you" no less than 10 times the first mile. I wanted to make sure I had my legs at the end, and that I didn't start chasing the carrot. I glanced down at my Garmin Timex at the mile 1 mark and thought "man I do stupid slow well, they should give out award for THAT.".

My legs usually decide to join the party around mile 4 or 5, so I was waiting to pick them up around the fire station. Two terrible things happend as I past the fire station: (1) my legs were smoking butts and drinking Octoberfest, and (2) there were no firemen outside. Grump. My stomach was also crampy, but there was no way their could have been anything left in it by this point! I used nature's bathroom anyway, took a gel, and moved on.

I continued my feeble attempts to spin the cobwebs out, and when I got somewhere around mile 13/14ish, I pulled over. I had a come to Jesus speech with myself that went something like this "you've done this distance before. Just because you're alone and it's harder doesn't mean you can give up. No, you can not use that $5 to get a cab home. No, you cannot hitchike home. So whatever it takes, you're finishing this damn run. Doesn't matter if it takes 5 hours". And with that, I stormed off, mad at myself.

It's funny how the negotiations between your mind and body don't only happen during races. There was a lot of "if you can run the next 15 minutes straight without complaining, you can pick up the expensive bottle of wine tonight". "the fire station is only 2 miles away. You don't want to WALK by a fire station, that's just embarrassing". "the really fast runner chick lives around here, and you don't want HER to see you walking do you?". And the reason I was doing this? While my legs were tired as hell, they weren't in pain or feeling awful. It was all in my head (and my stomach); it was damn hilly and damn hard to run this long solo. Plain and simple. And I have GOT to learn how to fight through that. If this were easy, everyone would be doing it.

Once I hit 20, and I was on one of my favorite roads, the demons started to give up the fight. While I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, I knew I was going to finish the run. And I did. The crosswalk in front of my house provides me with the best finish line ever.

There was no fanfare, no spectators,no timing clock or finisher medals. As I stopped my Garmin Timex, a small smile spread across my face. I just ran my first training marathon. It was hard, exhausting, and many times I felt like quitting. Instead, I continued to put one foot in front of the other, and fought for every last mile.

Happy Training!

Marathon Training Through A Friend's Eyes..

Spreadsheets were exchanged, comments were made, emails of "Oh my God how am I going to do this?!?" came through my inbox regularly. I smiled as I replied "you're going to be amazed at what you can accomplish". I am not a coach, just a sounding board to a good friend mapping out training for her first marathon.

Through late June and July, Jess marched up through double digit runs, hitting her PDR (personal distance record) with every long run. I read all of her posts with tears in my eyes, remembering MY very first marathon training cycle. I felt every one of her "OMGs" and "I can't believe I'm doing this!", and lived all of her "but 26.2 miles still seems so far away".

On August 21st, she ran her first 20-miler. I remember the beginning of this post, and getting the chills:

20 milers

20 MILES

20 FREAKIN' MILES!

...holy crap, we actually hit super-ridiculous double-digits this morning.

We celebrated together, through an exchange of about 74000 emails, texts, and tweets. It brought me back to the day I finished my first 20 miler, and not being able to wipe the smile off my face the entire day. I knew what she was going through, and I was so excited to be able to watch her have a very similar experience.

As she charged towards 22 miles, we exchanged many messages about tips and tricks. The one important  message I relayed to Jess was one that I've chanted so many times during a long run:

"Let the run come to you"

So simple, but sometimes so hard to do. At times we get caught up forcing a long run, and manufacturing it to get it just right. Not wanting to have the slightest of errors, we end up "chasing the run" to no avail. I suggested Jess open her mind, and let the run come to her. And with that, she made her first attempt at 22 miles this morning.

She not only ran her first 22 miler of her life, she demolished it. Her words, not mine. And I am so damn proud.

Having this experience with a friend is something pretty damn incredible. Being able to experience all the "firsts", the heartache, and all of the celebrations is awesome. Being able to share all of the knowledge and lessons learned over the past years, and knowing that it might help someone else is such a rewarding feeling.We've talked fueling, lost toenails, socks, and even bra chafage. We've shared the stories of long run hunger, as well as the frustrations of that run that we couldn't get just right.

In 3.5 weeks, Jess will be toeing the line of the Chicago Marathon, which is a race that I absolutely love. It's really the perfect place to experience her very first 26.2 mile distance, and to say I'm excited would be an understatement.

The last few weeks before your first marathon tests your nerves, anxiety and patience. The amount of emotions you can feel in such a short time is pretty surreal. And before you know it, you're waking up race morning, and standing at a line with 40,000 of your closest friends.

Jess - soak up every moment of this experience; you only get to train for your first marathon once. I'm so damn proud of everything you've accomplished, and I cannot WAIT to see that picture of you crossing the finish line in Chicago.

A Tale of Two 20+ milers

And only a week apart.

The month of August was simply crazy. I came painfully close to a 200 mile total for the month, had to do the mom/work/train shuffle, and transition from the end of summer to the beginning of fall in our household (oh wait everyone transitions from summer to fall this time of year? Weird.). And then some personal life strife got thrown in right at the end of the month, just to see if I would wave the white flag. I didn't. And here's proof - Caitlyn and I at a end of summer bonfire.

With that, I take you to last week's 22 miler; I was emotionally fragile, and in no mental state to attempt the distance solo. I begged Lisa for company, knowing full well she'd be giving up a peaceful Saturday morning run for a 3+ hour therapy session. She happily agreed (I know, I'm thankful too!), and what.a.disaster. it turned out to be. When you go into a long run already mentally defeated, it's so damn hard to turn it around when the miles get tough. I was the whiniest runner on Earth by about mile oh, say THREE. Throw is complete breakdown at mile 16 that went something like this: "thats it, I'm going home. I suck at running, I suck at life, I don't want to be here anymore, I'm done with this". Complete with ugly sobs and snot everywhere. You're so jealous you weren't there, aren't you? Long story short(ish), Lisa gave me some tough love, we trudged on, and finished before sunset. I fought hard for every step of that run, and was both physically and mentally exhausted by the end of the run.

Today, I decided to head up to Pumpkinman Triathlon, do my long run, and then cheer my heart out for friends. It was finally cool-ish, with low humidity. I was nervous about both coming off last week, and also the prospect of running the distance solo. I shook out the demons, and prepped my body and mind the best I could. However, as I was leaving the house, I swiped my Garmin off the table and it fell on the floor. Yeah, we've all done it 1000 times, but when I picked it up, I had the white screen of death. Nothing. Nada. Completely dead. Super. I cursed for a few minutes, realizing that I was going to have to use the trusty Timex for an uber long run.  It would be a unicorn run; one that's imaginary because there's not an accompanying Garmin file. Please tell me I'm not the only lunatic that thinks this way?

After some good luck hugs and some "hey, I know you because you're my Facebook/Twitter friend and you're really fast and why aren't you as excited to see me as I am to see you" maneuvers, I hit the road. I just went. There was no use in looking at my watch, other than for fueling purposes. It wasn't going to tell me my pace, my distance, my heart rate, or whether I was the fairest of them all. It was merely a stopwatch. So I just ran. My legs felt decent, breathing came easy, and I felt relaxed. Instead of chasing the run, I just let the run come to me.

Before I knew it, I had hit three hours, and I didn't want to stop running. I can't remember the last time this happened actually on a run over 20 miles, and it felt damn good. I had nowhere to be, no real time restrictions, and I wanted to keep going. So I did. I ran for well up into the 20's, and stopped only when the 2nd and 3rd place men had turned onto the road I was sauntering down. And there was no running in circles just to get the Garmin to flip to a certain number. There was no celebratory fist pump (don't lie, I know you do them too) at the end of the run, or a big sigh of relief that you feel when you hit the finish line of any run. I simply stopped running. I stepped off the course, walked to my car, changed into my flip flops, and got back on the course to cheer. It's a unicorn run, baby.

It's again a reminder that while running is a whole lot of leg power, it's also a whole lot of head and heart. And while today's unicorn run really rocked, I know there was a place for my sucktastic run last week too.

Happy Training!

A soul-crusher, a spirit lifter... and a mocktail party??

First things first - for everyone running the ZOOMA Half Marathon and 10K on September 22nd (contact me if you have any questions about registration!), there will be a "mocktail" party the eve of the race. Now, I love to get boozy just as much as the next girl, but since it's the night before a race, we'll be toasting with HINT water, and making some HINT mocktails. It's a gorgeous venue, and you'd be straight silly not to join us! Bring the whole family - races, spectators, bell-ringers are all welcome! Check out all the deets here. Hope to see lots of my friends there!

Okay, back to crushing souls and lifting spirits. I woke up Monday morning with an adorable summer cold. You know, the one that starts with sneezing fits, and then takes a quick turn into snotsville? Yep, that happened. The good news is that the cold seems to be confined just to my head, so it could be a lot worse. I went on with my planned miles, and just slowed it down as needed (I friends, have set the benchmark this week for how slow one can actually run while still calling it "running"; I dare anyone to challenge me on this).

Source

Yesterday I went out for my first long run of the weekend; I needed to do a road run, as time didn't allow for me to drive to the woods and run. I took a full 32oz of fluid with me, as I knew it would be hot out, and I would need extra liquid to make up for the snot and sweat I was losing. The first 12 miles felt surprisingly decent; I just plodded along, doing my thang. I was definitely taking in more fluid, and my snot rocket per mile ratio was astounding. It was somewhere about mile 16ish when everything started unraveling; I felt like crap, my legs felt like lead, I was incredibly hot, and my body just wanted to be done. I tried every mind trick in the book, and then I just tried quieting my mind. Nothing was working. In comes the negotiation phase that every runner has gone through (don't lie to me and tell me you've never done this): "If you can run just ONE mile, I'll give you a 30 second walk break". "If you get me home, I promise lots of watermelon and ice cold water".. You know the drill. Then I ran out of fluid at mile 17, as I was in a spot w/ no shade and felt like my skin was going to burst into flames. Miles 17-20 felt like they took a decade to complete. Somehow I managed to still be coherent when my Garmin clicked over to 20 miles. My tweet when I came back in the house was "I think I left my soul somewhere around mile 17.. Good God that was a hard run.. BUT I finished.. And now I shall die (hows your dramatic?). I think it was a combo of my cold, the heat, and frankly, not having a gigantic base to build off of. Either way, I checked that run off the list, and I don't intend to repeat that anytime soon.

My second long run was on tap this morning, a 12 miler. I went to bed at 8:15 last night (yes, 8:15!), after pounding some cold medicine, and some Gatorade. I slept about 9.5 hours and woke up feeling pretty good. The legs were tired (duh), but I went through the motions. If I had stopped to think about it, I'm sure I could have come up with 64 reasons why to put off my run. I chose a loop that goes by 3 firehouses (because seriously, how can you have a bad run when you're running by an abundance of firefighters??) and headed out. I flipped the Garmin to the inside of my wrist, and make the executive decision to not look at it; it's not like it was going to magically tell me I was running 8 min/miles after running 20 miles yesterday. For some bizarro reason, the legs were onboard this morning. I wouldn't call them zippy, but they definitely did their part. They whined a little when I had to add on the silly little 2 mile loop to get 12, but they hung in there. It was such a stark difference from yesterday's run, and I finished the run feeling pretty strong (it's all relative....).

Despite having a less than ideal 20 miler yesterday, I'm proud of myself for getting through these runs. I'm craving some social long runs, as I've been doing way too many of these solo; however I do think that for me, it's been good to have to tough these out without anyone to use as a crutch.

And for us New Englanders, I have a feeling that this fall, we're all going to feel like rockstars after toughing it out through this heat and humidity!

Happy Training!

For the Love of Long Runs..

Anyone that's ever asked me what my favorite part of training is, always gets the same answer: "long runs". I first started incorporating them when training for my first marathon in 2004.Throughout the course of that training cycle, I fell in love with a new "personal distance record" every week. I loved learning how to fuel, learning a new level of mental toughness, and embracing the solitude.

Over the past 8 years, my long runs have become the standard part of every week where I can go and solve the worlds problems. Not to say that I don't love doing these runs with friends; solving the worlds problems can be hilarious when amongst your closest friends for hours on end. Whether alone, or falling in step with a running partner, there is something about a long run that makes you feel so alive. 

I was having an email conversation with a good friend who's running her first marathon (Chicago!) this fall. She's up against her first 18 miler tomorrow, and I had sent her along some encouragement going into the run. Her response was this: "I'm honestly NOT stressed about the run. I am constantly shocked by how much I've been looking forward to the long run days and how well I've felt during them, even. It's just incredible what the body will do if you quiet your mind and just go for it." 

And that couldn't be more true. When I was out awaiting my surgery (and then recovering) it was what I missed the most about running. Even now, a little less than 4 months post-surgery, I get creative with my schedule so I can accomodate a long run. Yes, even if that means having to take the day before and day after off. Very anti my "run-like-hell" strategy, I know. 

Friday was my birthday (what? you did not know this? Gasp!), and I wanted to celebrate my 33rd with a 33km run. Yes, I thought about a 33-miler, but then I also thought about my leg spontaneously combusting. Right, so back to 33km.  I headed out to the trails just as the sun was rising - I brought my GPS boyfriend (we've had a spotty relationship since surgery, as he likes to tell me I'm grossly out of shape), but set the screen to display HR only. I gave myself ample time, so that I knew no matter what, I wasn't going to feel rushed.  I took a deep breath, and headed off into the woods. 

I had one of those runs that just went by too fast. No no no, the RUN wasn't fast, but it felt like it ended too soon. And that's with the 93% humidity (nope, not a typo) soaking every piece of fabric, every strand of hair, and what felt like every part of my skin. Yet I didn't really notice; I was busy bounding rocks, and dodging trees. Dancing around sticks, and over bridges, I'm pretty sure I was the happiest girl around. 

And when it was over, I just smiled. Not once over the course of those hours was I tempted to look at my pace; I didn't care. When I got annoyed with the 8 million deer flies, or had a moment of "I'm tired", I just let myself have the moment, and then moved on.

When I thought about my run on the drive home, I started to panic that I've lost my competitiveness. Things such as "why the hell didn't I care about pace", and "I can't believe I didn't think about throwing in a few miles at marathon pace" start creeping into my mind. And almost instantly, I shut it down. There will be a time and place over the next 12 months for track work, tempo runs, and running at "oh my God I'm going to vomit on myself" pace.  

Until that time comes, I'm going to enjoy exactly what I'm doing: running. And especially these long runs. 

Happy Training! 

View from the early miles.. How can you not love doing this??

Yankee Homecoming, with a twist..

One of my favorite races is coming up on Tuesday - The Yankee Homecoming 10-miler. I've run it the past 2 years, and will again toe the line on Tuesday. This year, unlike past years, will have a different flavor; I plan on run/walking the 10 miler with a good friend who has never run the distance before.

I've gone back and forth about a million times regarding what I want this run to look like; I know I've mentioned in here before that I wanted it to be my first real test of my running post surgery. I have to be brutally honest with myself - I'm not ready for any type of real speed. I have been working incredibly hard on my endurance, and I actually ran 2 hours and 35 minutes this morning. However, it's been really slow, and with a focus on getting my confidence back. I would be kidding myself, and setting myself up for disappointment, if I toed that line with any kind of a time goal.

I'm choosing to be smart (I know, wonders never cease), and I'm really looking forward to the run. It's always an incredible feeling to run alongside someone in their first effort at a distance. It'll be awesome to cheer on all the other runners around us, while we make our way around the course. For once, I'll be able to truly appreciate the course, instead of being so head down and focused, and cursing every little incline with the scorching sun in my face.

I would be lying if I said that I wasn't slightly disappointed that I'm not ready to lay down marathon pace for 10-miles. However, I AM proud of my progress - I'm being intelligent, and with that, comes sacrifice. Yet, it also comes with long term success. For so long, I've been so focused on the next day/week/month. Since my surgery, I've been much better about thinking about keeping myself injury free for as long as I possibly can. With that, insert Tuesday night's run.

In other non-running related news, I married off my last sister on Friday night. Here is a picture from the bachelorette party, and my favorite of me and Caitlyn from the wedding.

Happy Training!

Bumblebee bowling sucks - yup, I went there. 

I promise we kept a serious face during the ceremony

The Great Weight Debate

What you were thinking when you saw this post come up in your google reader: What? Yet ANOTHER person posting about weight, what they eat, and how they feel "fat" even though they don't come close to the definition? Oh, super.

This post isn't about me, my weight, or any body issues I may/may not have. Its to understand (through your feedback) how different we are as people: endurance athletes, couch-to-5K'ers, dancers, bowlers (okay, maybe that's a stretch) view weight, and how, as individuals, we measure it.

I'll go first, since, well it's my blog and my hair-brained idea. I don't own a scale, and I don't weigh myself. I never ever have. Even when I was pregnant, I would stand on the scale backwards, and threaten the nurse's life if she uttered a number. I have an incredibly addictive personality (wait? did you just gasp? I know, I find it shocking too); I have a hard time doing things in moderation. Not to say that I can't or don't, but it's a challenge for me. And I know if I got a scale, I would become obsessed. It would be a competition with myself to see how low the number could get, I would stress out about it, and that number would dictate whether or not I have a good day. For me, the scale isn't healthy, so I simply don't make it a part of my life.

Which leads me to my first set of questions: do you use a scale, and if you do, how often? How are you able to remove the emotional tie to the number on the scale?

While I have made it 32 years without a scale, that doesn't mean I run around and shove my face with M&M's on a daily basis (although good God that sounds awesome). By not having any numbers attached to my body per se, I have become VERY in tune with how I feel, how clothes fit, etc. I can tell when I've been cycling more than running, or swimming a lot, just by the difference in how my clothes fit.

If you DON'T use a scale, how do you measure your weight?

As I've been making my comeback, I've relied on cross-training to keep me fit and uninjured. My running days are still far and away my favorite days, but I've been very diligent to not run more than 1-2 consecutive days without putting in a spin/elliptical/swim day in there. With that said, I always feel most fit when I'm running high mileage. I 'spose that makes sense, in that you're torching a ton of calories every day, in each session that you're out pounding the pavement. Lately, it's been hard to associate me with the word "fit", because although I'm getting in those sweat sessions, it's not what my mind associates with being "in shape". And for all those who just eye rolled your laptop screens, I'm aware it's not rationale, it's purely emotional.

Do you have a certain activity that makes you feel the most "in shape"?

Finally, recovery. It's importance is so incredibly overlooked by so many athletes, and it's crucial to our success. However, so many athletes (myself included) struggle with executing recovery properly. As in DOING IT. I used to be one of the biggest offenders of this. A day off would entail a "30-45 minute easy run", instead of actually taking the day off. This has led to over-training a few different times in my athletic life, and I'd like to think I've learned from it. From several people I've spoken with, it can be so easily associated with food/weight. "If I'm not working out today, I should probably just eat whats necessary for basic survival, right?" used to run through my head on every recovery day.  It took a lot of educating myself, as well as self-discipline to shift this mindset, and view recovery as a positive thing.

Do you struggle with eating/how much to eat on recovery days?

I'll freely admit that I'm a work in progress; I most definitely still have days where all I want to wear is a tarp, and there are most certainly days where all the money in the world couldn't get me into a bikini. I'm pretty sure we all have our own journey when it comes to body image, and the tools we use to keep ourselves feeling our very best. I'm curious to hear about everyone's individual journey...

Happy Training!