Me and The Boys

Newport Ten-Miler; Less Is More

I'll be turning 46 next week, and I'm not one to get hung up on age and getting older, but as a somewhat competitive runner, the passing of each month and year is definitely apparent in ways that it might not be if I weren't so driven to keep running and racing. 

My last few marathon training cycles have been grueling ones. There are plenty who would actually deem them easy in comparison to their 70 or 80+ mile weeks, but for a usually lower-mileage runner like myself, many consecutive months of weekly mileage approaching or exceeding 50 miles is grueling, especially when it includes regular speedwork and tempo efforts. 

So now that it's done and the race is behind me, I feel like such an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and running is suddenly fun again! 

I am also really enjoying not constantly feeling tired and sore and on the verge of injury. It's such a treat to wake up in the morning and not feel like a 90-year-old woman with creaky hips and a sore back. I'm happily running 3 or 4 days a week, whenever I feel like it, whatever pace I want, and nothing over 10 miles. 

Another thing I've noticed is that I have a LOT more energy, and I'm sleeping better, and I'm not constantly craving carbs and salty foods, and I just feel healthier, because my workout routine is so much more well-rounded - more weights and biking mixed in, since I actually have the time to do those things now! 

I know that the marathon distance will entice me again, but when it does, I'm going to seriously consider going back to the Run Less, Run Faster training plan. It's worked for me several times, and I'm certain it will work again, and at this point in my life, I think I'll just feel better running lower mileage. 

Being so laid back at the moment, I had exactly zero expectations going into this past weekend's Newport Ten-Miler. I felt like finishing around 1:20 would be reasonable, but I also would be fine with just doing whatever felt good, even if that was 1:30. Reminding myself that I was only 3 weeks out from a pretty disastrous race experience, I knew it was important to listen to my body. 

With the threat of race-morning traffic looming, we left bright and early (in retrospect, a little too early!), and got to the start with 90 minutes to spare. I like to arrive early, but that was a bit extreme even for me. Better than sitting in traffic for an hour, though, I suppose. 

It was warm enough that I didn't need my throwaway sweatshirt, so left that in the car and just wore armwarmers with my singlet and shorts. And just before the race started, I ditched the armwarmers, too. 

The race starts with a short hill going out of Fort Adams State Park, and then heads toward Ocean Drive. I know this part of the course really well, as it's also part of the Newport Half course, which I've run many times. It's generally flat, and winds through some nice neighborhoods before making the turn out to run all along Ocean Drive.

I checked in with myself several times during the first few miles, as they were coming in under an 8-minute pace - 7:54, 7:51, 7:52 - but I was really feeling great, and pretty relaxed, so I figured I'd go with it, and slow down later if I felt like I had to. 

Now we were running right along the ocean, and the sun was shining, and it was warm but not overly warm, and I remember thinking to myself that I was going to make sure I enjoyed this. I ran so many miles along the ocean in Maine three weeks ago, but had a really hard time appreciating how beautiful it was because I was so miserable. I was determined to soak up these oceanfront miles and be happy to be running them, even if it meant slowing down so that I stayed comfortable and relaxed. 

Turns out that I didn't have to slow down, though - I continued with more sub-8 miles, and continued feeling great - 7:56, 7:50. There are a couple rolling hills in this section, and they felt a little challenging, but not too bad. And luckily it wasn't windy at all. It was getting pretty warm, though, and I was happy when we turned onto shady, tree-lined Bellevue Ave. 

Mile 6 came in at 7:55 pace, and I remember thinking how nice it was that I only had 4 miles left to go! I did start to get a little tired through miles 7 and 8, which also included a couple of pretty significant hills, but I knew I only had a couple miles to go at this point, and I thought it would be pretty awesome if I could keep a sub-8 pace and finish in 1:19. So I kept at it, despite the hills - 7:57, 7:47. 

I was definitely getting tired at this point, and pretty hot, too. I had dumped water on my head at most of the aid stations, but the sun was beating down on us, even though it was early in the day, and I was happy to see the 9-mile mark, and also happy to see my watch beep 7:35. 

Another little uphill going back into the Fort, and then after we looped around the side, we ran up a ramp and inside the Fort itself. The ramp was very short, but felt awfully steep, and I was glad to get up and over it and be close enough to see the finish line. 

  

Even better - the clock was just turning over to 1:17!  Never in a million years had I thought I'd run that fast. 

Mile 10 was right around 7:30, and I was very, very happy to be done. The pace had felt great for the first half, slightly challenging for 6 through 8, and downright tough for 9 and 10. But I had pulled off a great 10-miler, without even planning to, so I was very happy. 

On our way out of the Fort, the results came in on our phones and I found out I was second in my age group - a very nice surprise! 

So all in all, an unexpectedly great effort on a beautiful course and a gorgeous June morning. 

And what I loved most of all is that I ran hard, but I didn't come home feeling completely beat up, because it was only ten miles. I had become so accustomed to feeling totally destroyed after my long weekend runs, and it's such a nice change of pace to finish running and feel good, and be able to go home and do stuff with the family, instead of having to park myself on the couch and rest. 

I'm looking forward to shorter runs and shorter races, and although I do plan to do a little bit of speedwork to get ready for the Blessing next month, and I am still planning to target a Fall 5K, I'm really looking forward to things being a lot more laid back when it comes to running and training.

My body is happier, my brain is happier, and my heart is happier. Less is more. 

1:17:29, 7:44 pace

 

58/1900 females

 

2/204 age group

 

173/2,671 overall 

 

   

The Ugly, The Bad, and The Good - Maine Coast Marathon

Yes, I did intentionally reorder the phrase, because I really am more focused on the good that came out of this race than I am on the bad and the ugly. And the best thing of all is that The Marathon is DONE.  

The Marathon has been hanging over my head for a very long time. The Marathon that was supposed to be Boston 2016, where I'd finally break 3:30 and run a new PR. That turned into Philly, November 2016, which would be The Marathon that would be my redemption for missing Boston. And when Philly had to be scaled back to a half marathon due to my pre-Boston injury not healing quickly enough, The Marathon became Newport Rhode Races on April 15. And then that got pushed back due to illness, so The Marathon became Maine Coast.

So, all in all, I've been thinking about tackling this distance and going after this goal since I submitted my registration for Boston in September of 2015. That is a long time to have a race on your mind. So despite the fact that I missed my goal by an enormous margin, I'm still just so relieved to have finally completed the distance and run my seventh marathon. 

I said to a friend today that I think I'm breaking up with the marathon for a little while. I'm not saying we'll never get back together, and I hope that we will, but I think we need some time apart. This sub-3:30 goal that I've been chasing has eluded me for a while now, and the effects of two intense marathon training cycles have caused that goal to lose some of its allure. 

Add to that the fact that this marathon broke me down, chewed me up, and spit me back out, and, well, I'm just not so sure I'm eager to tackle this distance again in the near future, and am ready to shift my focus to shorter distances for a little while. * disclaimer: we all know how crazy runners are, and there's no ruling out the possibility that I'll sign up for another marathon two weeks from now.

But getting back to how this race completely destroyed me..... 

I can't blame it entirely on the weather, although it did really suck. I think the main factor is that postponing a huge race goal by one month just did not work out well. I had trained to peak at a certain time, and then to taper and reap all the benefits of my training, and take advantage of that perfect timing and go out and run my race on well-trained, fresh, rested legs. That's how a training plan is designed, and when I tapered for Newport a month ago, I felt fantastic - it worked exactly how it was supposed to.  

I'm still confident that my legs were well-trained for this race, but from the second I started running, I could tell that they were neither fresh nor rested. I hadn't felt particularly rested last week, either, but tried to brush it aside as taper crazies.

But now I'm questioning if maybe I was a little over-trained, and did too much in the additional two weeks (before tapering again) I tacked on between April 15 and this weekend. 

There is no question about the weather, though - as noted, and as expected, it was craptastic. As soon as we woke up, we heard the rain falling. Not torrential, but a steady rain. And a quick step outside the door confirmed that it was cold. It didn't seem windy at my friend Erica's cottage where we were staying, but when we got to the race start, we could see that the wind was definitely kicking up. 

Since it was so cold and wet and miserable, we stayed in the car as long as possible, just jumping out for two runs to the porta potties. And since it's a small race (less than 700 ran - I think more were registered, but some people were sane enough to stay home instead of running 26.2 miles in a Nor'easter), we were able to wait until less than 10 minutes before the start before we jumped out, took a quick photo, and then lined up. 

Thanks to Erica's friend Rich for some of these photos -
I hope he doesn't mind that I'm using them! 

Feeling optimistic, despite the weather, I lined up at the 3:30 sign. And about 2 minutes later, the race director blew a conch shell (cool way to start a race!), and we were off. 

  

Miles 1 through 10 were pretty uneventful. It was cold and wet, but for most of these miles, there wasn't a whole lot of wind. We were running through a lot of neighborhoods and areas that were more sheltered, so it was just slightly breezy. There were even a few times where I almost felt a little warm. I kept my jacket on, though, knowing that if the wind started to pick up, I'd feel much colder. In hindsight, a very wise choice! 

I was maintaining a pretty good pace for these early miles, too. But, as I said up front, I had noticed right from the start that my legs did not feel fresh from taper. They felt kind of heavy and tired - not the way you expect to feel at the start of a marathon, if you've trained and tapered properly. 

But I tried to put that out of my head and concentrate on the fact that, even if I wasn't feeling well enough to pick up the pace in the later miles, the pace I was running now felt ok, so if I could just hold onto that, I'd still run a good race, even if it wasn't a PR. And I also remembered a few times "I don't have to do this, I get to do this."  

  

There was a woman running near me for a while, and we chatted on and off a bit, and she was attempting to run between 3:35 and 3:40, as her BQ time was 3:40. She pulled ahead of me in the later miles, and I've been wondering if she made her goal. I really hope she did. 

So, the first ten miles seemed to be off to a good start, despite the tired-feeling legs - 8:05, 8:01, 8:10, 8:01, 8:07, 8:02, 8:04, 8:17, 8:07, 8:12. 

Then we hit a stretch where we ran by the ocean, and then out onto a two-lane secondary highway that was very open and exposed, so now the wind was becoming a factor, and miles 11, 12, and 13 reflect that - 8:18, 8:31, 8:56. 

It was around this time, too, that I noticed my back and my piriformis and hamstring on my right side were all feeling very tight and stiff. I was a little concerned, but also reminded myself that I was running a marathon, and marathons hurt. 

But as I continued running and continued fighting the wind, it continued to hurt more, and I started to get a little worried. 

Mile 14 continued the slowing down trend - 8:23 - and given the worsening conditions and the pain I was experiencing, I basically accepted that there was no way a PR was going to happen. It would have taken a miraculously big negative split at that point, and I knew that was highly unlikely.  

But I also knew that I was running in some really tough conditions, and if I could even come close to my PR, I'd still be happy. 

In the meantime, though, the wind had continued to become more of a factor, and it was still raining steadily, and I was feeling colder and wetter by the minute. My hands were frozen, and my gloves were soaked. I kept trying to wring the water out of them, but since they continued to get wet, that obviously wasn't helping much. 

I had brought headphones in case I wanted to listen to some music during the second half, but my hands were so cold, I didn't think I'd be able to operate my phone, so I didn't bother trying. And truthfully, my attitude was really starting to go south along with the weather, because in addition to my back, hamstring, and piriformis hurting, now my hip flexor and foot were hurting, as well. 

My head was not in a great place at this point, and I was definitely not feeling good physically, and miles 14 and 15 were two of the least scenic miles of the race, so I just put my head down and readjusted, reasoning that even if I couldn't get close to my PR, I could at least still get a BQ. My BQ time is 3:55, so as long as I could come in around 3:50, I'd get a spot in Boston next year. 

But my right leg was not having it, and it really started to affect my stride, and of course because of the left compensating for the right, now my left hamstring started cramping up. And then, just for fun, the inside of my left knee started to hurt. I was still trying to hold on at this point, but I was fading fast, and stopped to walk a couple of times - 9:04 and 9:00 for miles 15 and 16. 

I can't really even remember if I still held out any hope for a decent finish at this point, but somewhere around mile 16 or 17 is where things just completely fell apart.

Everything from my hips down to my toes felt stiff and tight and painful, and the pain on the inside of my left knee was the most concerning. It's something that had cropped up briefly during training, but had gone away really quickly after just a few PT sessions. But it was back now with a vengeance. And I still had 9 miles to go. 

Before the pain really set in - this smile is real. 

I definitely walked a bit during mile 17 - 9:22 - and then for mile 18 we were back along the water again, and I was feeling terrible. My knee almost felt like it was locking up at some points, and I was freaking out a little bit about whether or not I should even continue - I didn't want to really injure myself and end up on the sidelines for weeks. And although the stormy ocean was beautiful, the winds were howling right in my face, and I was falling apart, mentally and physically. 

Miles 18 to 21 were an absolute mess. I walked a lot, I ran a little, I cried on and off, and I said thank you to volunteers that I passed, who were very kind and very encouraging. I ran those miles in 10:11, 10:37, 11:34, 12:47. And I was barely even looking at my watch. I didn't care about my pace, I didn't care about anything. I just wanted to be done. 

At mile 21, there was an aid station and an ambulance nearby, and I was the closest I've ever been to stopping and walking off the course. I was freezing. I was drenched. I was in pain. I wanted nothing to do with any of this anymore. 

I had thought about calling Scott, crying, and asking him what I should do, but my hands were almost numb, and I didn't think I'd be able to get my phone out of my armband, never mind actually dialing numbers. And I'm glad I couldn't call him, because I know it would have just upset him and had him worried to death about me.

I was completely destroyed at that point, and knew I had a decision to make, and the thought of having someone else make it for me had been very appealing. But I knew it was my decision, and I was the only one who could make it. 

And I also knew that if I continued past mile 21, there was no way I'd quit after that. Because, as I reasoned, you don't run 22 miles of a marathon and not finish.

So then I thought to myself - well, you don't run 21 miles of a marathon and not finish, either.

And as I do often when I'm in a tough spot, I thought of how much more disappointed I'd be in myself if I quit. As awful as those last 5 miles were going to be, I knew I had to get through them. I knew a painfully slow marathon would still be better than a DNF. 

So I trudged on. And I took very long walk breaks, and I did some slow, shuffling running, and I cried some more. And I got through miles 22 and 23 in 10:41 and 9:23. There was actually a period of time during mile 23 where I almost felt like I could run the remaining 3 miles without stopping, as the long walk breaks seemed to be helping my knee settle down a bit. But then it started hurting again, and I backed off for mile 24, and walked much of that mile - 13:30. 

Mile 25 was misery. My knee hurt, both my hamstrings were cramping, my calves were cramping, my foot hurt, I was absolutely frozen, and the entire mile was along the ocean, and the wind was bone-chilling. I walked the whole mile, because I knew I wanted to run mile 26.

I walked, and shivered, and muttered to myself about how much marathons suck, and just kept thinking oh my god, are we ever going to get off this freezing, windy stretch of road????!!! I didn't even cry at this point, because I was so miserable and cold and angry and just wanted to get across that damn finish line. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the ocean stretch ended and we turned off into a more protected area sheltered from the wind, and passed the 25-mile marker. 

Knee pain or not, I was running that final mile. So I willed my legs back into action, and managed a 9:34 and 8:56 for the last 1.2, and I don't know if I've ever been so happy to see a finish line. 

And what made this one even better is that I had a friend there waiting for me. She had run the half the day before, so was helping us out today, and had schlepped my bag of warm, dry clothes to the finish line and was waiting to cheer me in.

I knew she had been tracking me and seen me deteriorate in the second half, and I also knew that it was very apparent by the look on my face that I was completely and totally miserable.

And I knew that she knew how I felt. Because we've all been there. Whether it's a marathon, or a half marathon, or a 10K; whether it's the conditions or an injury; whether you're a 6-minute miler or a 16-minute miler - sometimes it's just not your day. Sometimes it seems like the universe has conspired against you. Sometimes your body just doesn't cooperate. Sometimes all the preparation in the world just goes to crap and your race sucks. 

It really is some comfort to know that, on some level, we've all been there, and we all know how much it hurts. 

And we also all know that those moments are not the ones that define us as a success or a failure, but they truly are defining moments, and ones that will be a part of us forever.

I was alone as this moment unfolded slowly over the course of many miles, but I'm glad I wasn't alone as it came to its conclusion. Seeing a friendly face and getting a giant hug meant the world after I finished that race, and I am so grateful that I was among friends this weekend. 

I'm also very glad that the race ended at a college, and we were allowed to go in the athletic facility and use the showers in the locker room. Getting into warm, dry clothes felt amazing.

And I was able to shower and get changed quick enough to get back out to the finish line and see Erica finish her marathon (capping off her 39.3 Challenge!) hand-in-hand with Anna, who was running her very first marathon at age 19!  I cried watching them finish, and I can honestly say that the happiness I felt for both of them far outweighed any sadness I felt about my own race. It was amazing to be there to see them both accomplish such huge goals. 

And already, just two days later, those good moments are the ones that are first and foremost in my mind when I replay the day - the early miles, where I was having fun and chatting with someone; reminding myself to appreciate the scenery even though the day wasn't a particularly pretty one; seeing a friendly face at the finish line; seeing others reach their goals and cry tears of joy. Those are the things I'll remember most from this race. I've already blocked out a lot of the ugliness (that's why we're crazy enough to do these things again and again). 

But what I haven't blocked out is that moment where I had to decide - quit or persist. That, so much more than the time on the finishing clock, is what defines this race for me.

I had moments of doubting my mental toughness while preparing for this race. But I don't doubt it anymore. Because that was, for many reasons, the hardest race I've ever run in my life, and despite wanting to quit again and again and again, I saw it through to the finish. So in my book, it's a success. Not by the numbers, but by the sheer force of will that got me through those final miles. You don't know how much strength you have until you're called on to use up every last ounce of it. And even then, there's always a little in reserve. 

I've had more than a few moments where I felt disappointed about the way things went, but mostly, I am truly just so relieved to put marathon training behind me. Five months of training drained me so much, physically and emotionally, and I am ready to move on. 

Physically, I'm feeling significantly better than I did Sunday. Driving 3 hours shortly after finishing a marathon is not something I would recommend - even with multiple stops on the way home Sunday afternoon, getting out of the car was a feat in and of itself. I literally had to grab my right leg with my hands and lift it up to get it out of the car. Not fun.

But once I got moving yesterday morning, things definitely started improving. I had thought about going for a short walk, but it was cold and rainy yesterday, and I shuddered at the thought of being out in the cold rain again, so I'll wait and walk a little today. And later in the week am hoping to get out on my bike for the first time this year. 

My hip flexor and piriformis and knee are not as painful as they were, but they are definitely all still a bit 'off,' and I'm glad I have a PT appt. scheduled for later this week.

I'm hopeful that taking this week off, plus a bit of PT, is all they'll need, but if they're still feeling aggravated, I'll take a few more days off. And I will definitely be running much lower mileage for the foreseeable future, which I think is going to make my body very happy. 

I've proven to myself that I can run higher mileage (some of my training weeks topped off at just over 50 this time around), but I feel like when I do so, I'm constantly flirting with injury. I think I need to accept that my body is much happier if I keep things in the 35 - 40 mile per week range. And that's more than sufficient mileage for half marathon and 10K training, which is what will be my focus for now. 

Happy to put this one in the rearview mirror, and happy for the lessons it taught me. I hope to not be in this situation again, but if I ever again find myself faced with the prospect of postponing a goal race by a few weeks, I'm not so sure that I'd do it - or I would structure the interim training differently, because I really feel that what I did this time did not work out, and my legs just broke down because of it. 

But all in all, it really was a great weekend. I got to see some dear friends, I got to run some beautiful miles along the Maine coast, and as I said to Scott yesterday - any day that you can go out and run 26.2 miles is a good day. There will be a day when I won't be able to do that, and I'm very thankful that Sunday was not that day. 

Marathon number seven is in the books. It sucked, I finished, and I'm moving on.  

26.81 miles (due to a misdirection on the course, we ran an extra half mile!)

4:13:21 

9:40 pace

9/34 age group

119/343 females

286/643 overall 

The Marathon

I'm not going to pretend that I'll be blogging with any regularity any time soon, but my first marathon since 2014 is right around the corner, and there are a lot of thoughts all jumbled up in my head, and it felt like it might be helpful to jot some of them down, so the blog is temporarily resurrected.

Marathon taper always messes with your head a little, but what's made this 26.2 even more challenging is that I was supposed to run it a month ago. But instead of running the PR (sub-8:00 pace) I had hoped for on April 15 in Newport, I was barely able to eke out 6 miles at an 8:30 pace that weekend, thanks to a rotten respiratory virus that had hit me earlier in the week and just wasn't letting go. 

 

Making the decision not to run the race was really not all that difficult. I felt terrible, and I knew I'd feel awful the whole time I was running, would finish far slower than I had planned, and would feel miserable about the whole experience. Of course there's always the chance that can happen in a marathon even if you're not sick at the start, but it was virtually guaranteed for me this time, so it just didn't make sense to push myself when I knew the outcome would be the complete opposite of what I had been hoping for and had trained for. 

If I hadn't gone through what I went through last year with my Boston training, I might have made a different decision. But to watch 4 months of training again be ripped out from under me and basically be a complete waste  - I just couldn't go through that for the second year in a row. I was confident I was making the right decision, and three weeks later, I feel the same. I know I did the right thing. 

So, it was on to Plan B, which turned out to be the Maine Coast Marathon in Kennebunk. The lure of the beautiful location, plus the fact that I had two friends running the race (one the 39.3 challenge(!!!) and one the half), and the fact that it gave me a month to regroup and get marathon-ready again all seemed to add up, so I went ahead and registered and did my best to cobble together two additional weeks of training. 

I did a good job keeping up my mileage, and even got in some mile repeats (in a horrific headwind) and a few tempo runs, and some more goal-marathon-pace miles. A very mild calf strain caused me to downgrade one speed workout from all-out 800s to slightly slower-paced 1,000s, but all-in-all, I got in two more solid weeks, and was more than ready to taper all over again. 

Delaying a goal marathon by a month doesn't seem like a lot, but when you've already gone through the entire cycle of training, and gotten over all the mental hurdles, and coasted into the taper and turned your weariness with training into excitement for racing - well, it's kind of hard to restart that process, and to have it all happen in such a condensed schedule. 

In a word, it's been kind of weird. 

I won't say that it's totally messed with my confidence, but it has shaken it a little. And even before all this happened, I've just felt different about this race than I did during my training for Boston last year. Aside from a few small hiccups, and a handful of missed runs, overall the training has gone very well, and the runs that left me feeling confident and strong far outweighed the runs that left me feeling broken down and defeated. But I wasn't brimming with confidence the way I was last year. 

So what I'm working on now is remembering why I should feel confident. Remembering finishing solo 20-milers with negative splits, uphill, in sub-zero temperatures and 20mph winds. Remembering fighting through track workouts that seemed nearly impossible - until I had completed them. Remembering mile after mile after mile run at or below my goal marathon pace - often at the end of a 20-miler - and how that pace came to feel so natural and comfortable, and how once I hit that pace, it felt like everything just clicked. 

In my head, I know that I've put in the training necessary to run the race I want to run. I just need to convince myself of that. I've always felt like mental toughness was one of my strengths, and I still feel like it is - it just needs a little boost at the moment. 

Throwing another wrench into things, though, is the weather. I've been stalking the forecast since the 10-day mark, and it went back and forth for a while between chance of showers and just cloudy, but now seems to have settled on this - 

Not ideal, to say the least. The rain and the colder temps wouldn't be that terrible in and of themselves, but then you throw in winds of 20 - 30 mph (occasionally over 40mph), and things really go downhill. 

Of course, it will all depend on whether the wind is in our faces or at our backs, and not knowing the course, I can't really say with any certainty which it will be, so it's definitely more than a little unsettling. 

But there's nothing I or anyone else can do about it. Weather is always the great unknown when it comes to marathon day, and all I can do at this point is prepare with the correct gear and with the knowledge that I am going to spend anywhere from 3 1/2 to 4 hours feeling cold and wet. 

I feel like my attitude at this point could be summed up with a giant shrug. Whatever will be, will be. I've trained, I'm eating my carbs, I'm hydrating, and I'll be on the starting line at 7:30am Sunday and we'll see what happens. 

Which is not to say that I don't intend to give it my all, because I do. But given the forecasted conditions, I have to be prepared for the reality that my all may result in a very different finishing time than I had trained for. And yes, it'll be disappointing if that's the case, but 20, 30, and 40mph winds are out of my control. I'll have to be happy walking away knowing that even if I don't accomplish my goal, I ran the best race possible on the day that I was given. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little upset, though. Last year's Boston training took a lot out of me - a lot more than the training I did for Philly in 2014. And this year's took even more out of me. Every year that goes by, these long, intense training cycles feel a little bit harder, and require a little bit more TLC and extra recovery. And I don't know how many more of them I have left in me.

I definitely intend to run more marathons (hopefully Boston among them), but training to run a marathon at an easy pace and training to race it are two very different things, and training to race this distance is really taking a toll on me (physically and mentally). 

Part of me wonders if the 3:30 at Boston 2013 was it. Maybe I'm just not going to crack that 3:30 mark. Maybe there's some reason it's supposed to be that way. And maybe that's ok - a 3:30 marathon on a really tough course is something to be pretty proud of as an all-time PR. Maybe taper is just making me crazy, and leaving me too much free time to overanalyze things. 

Maybe I just need to relax, lace up my shoes, and run my heart out on Sunday.  

See you at the finish line. 

Philly Half Marathon, 2016

Yes, I used to blog. Pretty regularly, actually. First it was about the kids, then it became about the kids and running, and then - largely because the kids started getting bigger, and I felt it wasn't right for me to be blabbing online about their personal lives - it became just about running. 

But even running posts have been few and far between the past couple of years, and I can't pinpoint any specific reason for it, except to say that the craziness of life with three young boys just doesn't leave much time for pontificating about my running. And I don't have a huge audience anyway, so I know nobody has been clamoring for my posts.

But I did always enjoy writing up race reports, and have found it enormously helpful to be able to go back and read them later on, so I am finally inspired to sit down and write about what really feels like a turning point in this very long year of not-so-great stuff. 

My original plan for Philly was to run the full marathon. It was going to be my redemption, after not being able to run Boston this year. But when it became apparent that my body wasn't cooperating as I hoped it would after my pre-Boston injury, and pain was still lingering into the summer months, I knew that trying to rush into marathon training was just going to set me up for failure, or even worse, more injury. 

So redemption would have to wait. I made the decision this summer to scale back to the half, and changed my registration officially, so that I wouldn't even be tempted to try to train for the full. I was disappointed, but knew that it was the right choice, and decided that I would use this extra time to build up a fantastic base and concentrate on running a kick-ass half in November. 

I had a few good races leading up to Philly - a 1:45 and age-group award (very unprepared and undertrained) at the Surftown Half in Westerly in mid-September, and then just a week later, a 1:42 and another age-group award at the Hogsback Half in Colebrook, CT (a very fun and scenic race, for a very good cause).  

I felt optimistic that with a couple months of solid, consistent running, I could pull off a good race in Philly, and as the date got closer, I decided that going sub-1:40 was a reasonable goal. 

Since the half was moved to Saturday this year (rather than starting with the full on Sunday), I was on the train with a friend (who was also running the half) at 9:15 Friday morning. Our train was delayed, but we still got in with plenty of time to check into the hotel, get our stuff at the expo, and have a nice dinner out with our other friends who had arrived shortly after us. 

The weather Friday was crazy warm for this time of year, and it was predicted to get warm again Saturday, but with a 7:30am start, I wasn't worried about it ever feeling hot while we ran, and thankfully, I was correct. 

It was chilly enough for a throwaway sweatshirt at the start, and arm warmers and gloves for the first 2 miles, but once I shed those layers, I was perfectly comfortable in a tank top and shorts. It was probably in the mid- to upper-50s, sunny, dry, and not at all windy. Great running weather, for sure, and I was so excited to get out and race. 

I had done a 16-mile run the weekend before, so hadn't really done any kind of tapering for this race, but the 16 miles was at a very easy pace, and I really hadn't done any race-specific training, so wasn't worried about not tapering. I was just counting on the 6 weeks of solid base-building I had under my belt to carry me through. 

We had arrived at the start with about 40 minutes to spare, which was just enough time for a few porta-potty stops, and then I made my way to my corral. I wasn't too far back from the starting line, so it didn't take us too long to cross the mat, and we were on our way. 

Even though we were not starting with the full marathoners, I still found the first mile to be very crowded. I felt pretty trapped for most of it, and we were also running on downtown streets, and there were a lot of sewer caps that were either sticking above ground or sunk slightly below ground, and I was so nervous that I was going to trip over or step into one of them, I kept my eyes on the ground for most of that mile. 

Apparently, I was trapped in a group that was running pretty fast, though, as my first mile beeped at 6:54. No matter how solid the base I had built, I knew I was not in shape to run sub-7:00 pace for 13 miles, so I made a conscious effort to back off. And the field had opened up slightly, so I was able to jockey for some space and dropped back to 7:28 for mile 2.

That seemed much better, and I was feeling great, and we were headed back toward the starting area now, with a nice flat stretch of road, and I just felt like my stride was so smooth and steady, I didn't pay too much attention to my watch, and focused more on the effort. 

Mile 3 clicked over at 7:17, which I thought may have been a wee bit fast, but mile 4 was back to 7:26. I was still a little surprised that these splits were feeling so easy, but then the hill between miles 5 and 6 appeared to keep me honest. 

I remembered this hill very well from running the half 4 years ago, and the full 2 years ago. It's a pretty big one, but from what I remembered, once you got past that hill, it was smooth, flat sailing. So I chugged my way up, and finished mile 5 in 7:43 and mile 6 in 7:46. 

I was mad about the slower pace, but thought that I'd be able to pick it up again, now that the hill was behind me. 

I was wrong, and this is where I will remind you to always, always check the course elevation map, because sometimes they change the course. And apparently they changed this course quite a bit, because somewhere after mile 7 was another huge hill. And yet another one in mile 8. And then another one at the beginning of mile 10. 

I am generally a pretty good hill runner, but I had not really prepared myself to run a hilly half marathon, and these were very steep, sizeable hills, and really caught me off guard. I still managed to pass some people through this hilly section, but it definitely slowed me down. Miles 7 through 10 - 7:27, 8:03, 7:23, 7:43. 

I did my best to take advantage of the downhills when I got them, but the steep inclines took the wind out of my sails a bit. 

As we came down what would turn out to be the last of the hills, with just about three miles to go, I kept thinking that if there weren't any more hills, I might still be able to pull this off. 

And aside from two very, very slight inclines in the last few miles, it was a much flatter stretch, and I was able to get back into a good rhythm and ran mile 11 in 7:21, and mile 12 in 6:58. And once I had recovered from the hills, that pace in the low 7s was feeling good again. 

Ran into the final stretch at a 7:10 pace, and crossed the finish in 1:40:33. 

Am I disappointed that I was 34 seconds shy of my goal? Just the tiniest bit. But mostly incredibly proud that between September and November, I was able to shave 5 minutes off my half marathon time, with just regular, consistent running. Imagine what I can do when I actually train? 

And a few other things put it all into perspective -

When I ran the half 4 years ago, I was in great shape and had been training hard, and ran a 1:39. So to be able to come within a minute of that, with virtually no actual training, on what is now a much hillier course, I think is pretty telling. 

Also - 6th in my age group out of  544  makes me very happy, as this is a big race (10,515 total participants), and I'm thrilled to even be in the top ten in my age group. 

And lastly - especially with a big race like this, it's extremely difficult to run the tangents, and my Garmin had me finishing at 13.52 miles, which equates to an average 7:26 pace (not the 7:40 pace that's my official 13.1 time). And if a 7:26 pace feels good for 13.1 miles, I'm in a good place! 

So it was another great weekend in Philly, and I feel very happy and satisfied with my effort and the results. Although the new half course was far hillier, it was still beautiful and scenic, and I had a fun time both at the race and the rest of the weekend with my friends. 

With that, I'm now more excited than ever to pick a spring marathon, put together a training plan, and get to work!  I'm eyeing a couple of very small local races, mostly because I like the idea of being close to home and not having to travel.

As fun as it is to get away for the weekend, I am looking at my next marathon as a means to an end - I want a BQ, and hopefully a PR, so it's not about the fanfare and the festivities - it's about putting my head down and running my own race. 

Still some more thinking to do, but hopefully I'll have a plan in place soon, and I know I'm more than ready to start training. 

Philly by the numbers: 

1:40:33 

7:40 pace by official time, 7:26 pace (13.5 miles) on my Garmin

6 of 544 age group

182 of 6,261 females

682 of 10, 515 overall 

Onward! 

The Comeback Is Off To A Pretty Good Start - Narrow River 5K

The last couple of weeks have been busy ones. Two weeks ago, I was able to log three 4-mile runs and one 5-mile run, and was feeling really good. The miles were slow ones, and I was still feeling cautious, but also more optimistic every time I went out. 

I spent as much time stretching, icing, and foam rolling as I did running, and spent a lot of time lifting weights and getting back to my hip strengthening exercises, and rounded it out with PT and acupuncture visits. 

And this week, it all seemed to finally pay off. I ran 6 miles Monday, and felt great. I ran 6 miles again Wednesday and felt even better. I ran 7 miles on Thursday, and felt better after that run than I had after Monday's. 

That was then I decided to jump into a local 5K on Saturday.

I had been registered to run the Mystic 10K today, but two weeks ago I didn't think I'd be up to running a 10K at this point, so I deferred my registration to a different HMF event. And although I am able to run 6 miles right now, racing 6.2 probably would not have been a good idea. 

But I was feeling so good, and tempted to get out there and push myself and see what kind of speed I'd be able to pull off, and I thought racing just 3.1 miles was doable. And when I heard a couple of my friends were going to also be running the same 5K I was considering, the decision was made. 

As I drove to the start Saturday, the temperature on the car dashboard read 62 degrees. And then it went up to 64, and then up to 65. I think by the time we got to the starting line, it was a little above 65. And since I've been running in temps in the low 50s (or cooler), 66 or 67 felt more like 80. 

We ran 2 warmup miles, and I was dripping with sweat already. I knew I'd still give it my all, but I also knew that it would probably be even a little slower than I had thought I might. 

I really didn't know what I was going to be able to do. I thought that maybe I'd be able to come in under 23 minutes, but given what I've been through in the past 4 or 5 weeks, it was very hard to know what would happen once I actually started running, so I decided to just run fast and hope for the best. 

I haven't run this race before, but I had heard the description of the course, and have run this stretch of road numerous times on training runs, so knew exactly what to expect.

The first mile is pretty flat, and I was thinking that I should try to not go out too fast, so tried to stick to a pace that felt difficult the way a 5K should, but not so difficult that I was going to regret it in mile 3. 

The mile finished in 7:17, and actually felt pretty good, but I knew the huge hill in mile 2 was looming. When I've run this hill on training runs, I've actually felt pretty good making my way up, but trying to race up it was entirely different.

And to add insult to injury, the pollen in this stretch of road was so thick that I almost felt like I was choking on it. The hill slowed me down for sure, but I didn't back off, effort-wise, and mile 2 came in at 7:34. Slow, but considering the hill, I felt like I had held my own. 

I was so done at this point, though - as I knew I would be. Even without an enormous hill, a 5K just feels awful for that final mile. I knew it was only a mile, and I had to keep pushing, but I so did not want to. 

There was a nice downhill stretch in mile 2, and as tired as my legs were, and as much as I felt like I wanted to throw up, I tried to take advantage of the downhill.

I knew I was the 3rd female at this point, and I knew there was no way I was going to catch my friend who was a full half minute ahead of me in 1st, and I hadn't thought I'd be able to catch my friend who was in 2nd, but during that downhill, I was able to get my legs turning over fast enough to catch her and pass her. 

The downhill turned flat, then there was one last little hill before the final push to the finish. I seriously almost cried running up that last hill. I know it well, and I know that it's not a big hill and on a normal run I hardly even notice it, but the way I was feeling at this moment, it crushed me. 

But I made it up, and I was still holding onto my 2nd place spot, so I didn't let up, and finished mile 3 in 7:17. The final .1, as always, seemed to last forever, but finally the finish line was there, and I crossed in 23:08. 

This race was a vivid reminder of why I'm not a fan of 5Ks. They just take absolutely everything out of you. I was completely spent. And I know I would have felt that way even if it hadn't been a warm day, but the heat made it far worse. 

But I was happy with my time. It's a far cry from my all-time 5K PR of 20:51, and my typical 5K time in the 21s, but given that I just returned to running 2 weeks ago, I am pleased with how well I did. And although it's a very small race, it was fun to place 2nd overall. 

Fun to race with my friends, too, who placed 1st and 3rd. 

Overall, it was just so fun to be back out there and feel like part of the running community again. 

I have a lot of work to do to build back up to the level of fitness I was at when I got hurt last month, but I don't feel like I'm quite starting from scratch - some of that fitness is still there; it just needs a little nudge to get it going again. 

Yesterday's race was a challenging one, with the hills and the heat, and I would love to be able to test myself on a slightly easier course in better weather conditions, but the heat of summer is not far off, so that's not likely to happen anytime soon. 

So I'll take the 23:08 as a great starting point on this comeback journey, and will continue to listen to my body and push it only as much as it feels safe to push.

Final numbers - 

23:08, 7:22 pace

2nd female

12/105 overall