Me and The Boys

Deja Vu

I wrote this post almost exactly three years ago, just as I was about to begin training for my first Boston Marathon. And as I find myself about to begin training for my third Boston Marathon, the conditions are eerily similar. 

The past few weeks, I've been feeling a lot of tightness in my hip flexor, which has led to pain in my pirformis (yes, a literal pain in the butt), which has led me to seek out some PT. I've had a few appointments, which have helped, and I've cut back on my mileage, which has also helped. But even though those things are helping, the issue isn't going away. 

So this morning I decided that I need to take a little time off. Not ideal, as my training was supposed to kick off on Monday. But I know that if I continue to run, and begin the process of adding in speedwork and tempo runs and 20-mile training runs, my body is going to break down. I've been there, done that, and I don't want to do it again. 

When this happened three years ago, I was able to dive into training after my two weeks off and went on to run my best race ever. Obviously I'm hoping that happens again (and taking the first two weeks of training off would still give me 16 weeks to train, which would be sufficient). 

But I'm also preparing myself for the possibility that it won't happen. Because I know that possibility exists. And as excited as I am to get out and get training, and put in the hard work, and begin the countdown to April 18, my goal for Boston this year was not just to run it, but to run it fast - faster than I ran it in 2013. And if I'm not healthy, there's no way I'll be able to do that. 

I have no interest in piecing together a haphazard, half-assed, half-injured 12 or 14 weeks of training and limping across the finish line in 4 hours. I was injured when I tried to train in 2014, and it's a miracle I made it across the finish line with barely 9 weeks of training under my belt. But it was so important for me to be there that year, I was fine with that. I didn't need a fast race that year - all I needed was to run those 26.2 miles and reclaim that finish line, and I don't regret all the struggles I went through to get there. It was worth it. 

This year is different, though. I want to be there, but not if it means fighting what my body is telling me. And right now it's telling me to rest, so that's what I'll do. 

And as panicked as I felt about maybe not being able to be there in 2014, I feel equally as calm about the chance of not being there in 2016. I'll be upset, sure, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. Boston is such a part of me, but it's not the only race out there, and I've had my two Boston experiences, and nobody will ever take those away from me. 

I'm really feeling very zen about the whole thing, which I honestly attribute to all the yoga I've been doing lately. Yoga is one of those things that I always knew I should make time for, but never quite found a way to do that, between all the running and biking and weight lifting and cross-training. But about a month ago, I found the time to get myself to a class, and I was sad when the class was over, and couldn't wait to go back.

And I felt the same way after the next class. And even more so after the next one. And my commitment to get to one class a week quickly turned into a twice-a-week habit, which has turned into a quest to figure out how to fit in a third class every week.

I feel like I didn't find yoga so much as it found me - it came into my life at exactly the right time that I needed it to, and I'm completely and utterly hooked on it. I find myself craving my next class almost as much as I crave my runs. 

The benefits are physical, mental, and emotional, just like with running. But the similarities end there. Yoga does make me feel strong the way running does, but it's a different kind of strong. It's a strong that comes from a different place. And it's not driven by competitiveness, and a drive to constantly do better.

I'm far better at checking my ego at the door than I thought I would be, and feel no need to push myself into a pose if it doesn't feel good. That's not where the power comes from in yoga. It comes from a place of stillness, even though that stillness is being expressed through movement. If you've never done yoga, that might not make sense, but if you have done yoga, you'll get it. 

I need that stillness. My insanely busy, crazy, loud, chaotic life (not to mention the craziness that is all that is going on in the world around us) demands it. I wish I had found this out sooner. But like I said, for some reason, I was meant to find it now, and I'm just going to be thankful that I did. 

So I'm in a little bit of a holding pattern, but really ok with it. I want to run for the rest of my life, and I want to run healthy and pain-free, so I'm going to do what it takes to get back there.

In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing but a teeny tiny little speed bump, so I'm just going to tap the brakes, roll over it, and keep moving forward.  

Philly Marathon Weekend

I got my redemption in Philly. Even though it wasn't exactly the race I had originally hoped it would be, it was still an amazing day, and an amazing weekend, and one I'll remember for a long time.

And I have to say - shout out to the city of Philadelphia, which puts on a great race! Extremely well-organized, beautiful course, great volunteers, and great crowd support. I don't know if I'll run it again, just because there are so many other races I want to do, but I'd absolutely recommend it to anyone looking to run a big-city marathon.

I'd kind of like my next marathon to be a smaller one, though. I've now done Boston twice, followed by Philly, and although there are some things I like about the bigger races, I think I'm happiest with a slightly smaller crowd (along the lines of Hartford). 

I was ready for the big race experience this time around, though, and was so happy to finally get on the train Friday morning. My train ride was uneventful (and blissfully quiet), and I was able to check into the hotel as soon as I got there, which was great.

I waited a little while for Erica, my roommate for the weekend, and when she got there we headed over to the Expo to pick up our packets and say hi to the Another Mother Runner team. 

It was so great to see Sarah and Dimity again - I talk to them often via email, but haven't actually seen them in nearly 2 years, so it's been a while. And we met some other mother runners who I've only talked with virtually - always fun to finally meet people live and in person. And anytime I meet another mother runner, it's always like chatting with an old friend - which is a testament to the incredible community that SBS and Dimity have created. 

Saturday was a very restful day, which was perfect. I did a short shakeout run in the morning, and it was fun to run down past the start/finish area. I took the time to go up the "Rocky Steps", too - very cool to look out over the race site from up there. The few miles I ran felt great, and I knew I was ready to get out there and really run the next day.

 We stopped by the Expo again in the morning, just to say hi (and to deliver some cookies to all the women working the AMR booth for the day), scoped out the amazing Reading Terminal for what we were going to eat post-race on Sunday (didn't want to eat anything heavy the day before the race), and spent the afternoon with our feet up, watching movies and chatting and hydrating. It was perfect. 

Our dinner Saturday night was super fun - delicious pasta at a great Italian restaurant, and lots of laughs with a great group of mother runners, including SBS and Dimity. I'm so glad we were all able to get together, and it was fun to meet even more women from the mother runner 'tribe.' 

Dinner was done early, and I was asleep by 10pm. We had gotten all our gear ready earlier in the afternoon, so all that was left to do was hopefully get a good night's sleep, wake up on time, eat, and head out. 

I woke up in a panic at 3:15am, thinking I had overslept, but I saw what time it was, breathed a sigh of relief, and went back to sleep. But I was up before my alarm, so went down to the lobby to get in line for Starbucks, which was opening at 5am.

I was the second person in line, and I'm glad I was, because a few minutes later, there were about 20 people behind me. I grabbed my bagel and coffee and brought them back upstairs and forced myself to eat the whole thing, even though I wasn't the least bit hungry. 

Staying half a mile from the start was awesome. We walked over and got there right at 6am, as planned. We had to wait half an hour for the portapotties, which was kind of a drag, but thankfully it wasn't a really cold morning, so waiting around wasn't uncomfortable.

After that wait, it was time to head over to my corral and get lined up. I had worn a throwaway fleece jacket and fleece pants, which I left on the side of the road, and I had thought I'd want a long-sleeve shirt over my short sleeves and arm warmers for the first few miles, but it was feeling pretty comfortable, so I ditched the long sleeves before the start, too. 

I teared up several times standing in the corral - I always do before a big race like that. It's so emotional finally being on that starting line. After all the waiting and waiting and waiting, those last 20 minutes or so seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, we were off. 

The weather was absolute perfection. It was in the low 40s, and would likely stay there for the entire time that I was on the course. That is ideal running weather, and the outfit I had settled on was perfect for it. I knew I wouldn't be too cold or too warm, and I was so relieved that we were being treated to such great conditions. 

My plan to start the race conservatively hit a little snag when I ran the first mile in 7:36. Oops.

Rookie mistake, and I knew I needed to fix it quickly. But I also knew one fast mile wasn't going to ruin my race, so as long as I reeled myself in to a slower pace, I'd be ok. And I did a great job for most of the rest of the first half, with my splits coming in at 8:29, 8:11, 8:14, 8:07, 8:50 (short walk at water stop), 8:18, and 8:00 through mile 8. 

But I think my issues later in the race partly stem from the fact that I picked it up a little too early. I had planned to hold back until at least mile 12, but instead dropped down to sub-8s a bit earlier. Miles 9 through 13 came in at 7:36, 7:50, 7:53, 7:55, and 7:59. I felt great, and I thought that since I was just below an 8-minute pace (except for that 7:36 mile), it was ok that I was pushing it a little bit here. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't....

Passing near the finish line at the halfway point, which can potentially be a little tough mentally, didn't bother me at all. I was on top of the world at that point. I felt fabulous, I was loving my splits, it was a beautiful day, and I was having a great time.

I was soaking it all in, and loving the course and the spectators - with the exception of mile 6, which was a stretch of road with extremely uneven pavement, where I felt like I had to constantly keep my eyes on the road, for fear or twisting an ankle or tripping and falling. That stretch was also packed with spectators, and although the cheers and support were nice, it felt like the crowds were really encroaching on the road, and I felt very claustrophobic, and did a bit of dodging and weaving to get around slower runners. 

The two most significant hills on the course (miles 8 and 10) didn't present too much of a challenge for me. They were big enough to be noticeable, but not enough to really slow me down, and I passed quite a few people as I made my way up. And it was nice knowing that there weren't really any other big hills on the course after that point - great to get them out of the way early. 

Looking at the course map before the race, I was a little concerned about the very long out and back stretch from mile 14 to 25. There's something similar to that in Hartford, and I found it very mentally draining, and hoped this wouldn't be the same. And for a while, it wasn't. 

It isn't the most exciting stretch of road, but it is pretty, as it's run all along the Schuylkill River. The crowds were a little thinner here, and I decided to listen to some music for a little while, and for several miles, I was really enjoying the quiet and my tunes and cruising along. 

And at this point, as I had felt for most of the race, I found myself thinking that I 'only' had 12 miles left to go. I had even felt that way at mile 10 ('only' 16 miles to go!). The miles just seemed to be flying by, and I was so optimistic and so driven to just get it done, I was happy just to be out there and be able to run.  

Miles 14 through 19 continued to feel great, both physically and mentally. I clicked them off in 7:41, 7:59, 7:51, 7:58, 7:42, and 7:52. Each time I crossed a timing mat, I knew my split was being sent out into cyberspace, to all the people who were tracking me, and I felt so happy that I was doing what I set out to do, and loved that they would know that. 

The course has a somewhat strange little out and back section that crosses over a small bridge at around mile 17, and friends who had run the race before told me that little section really annoyed them, but it didn't bother me at all. I was still feeling great.

But part of the reason I was feeling great is that I mistakenly thought that once we crossed back over the bridge, we'd be turning around to head back toward the city. Not so much. I clearly should have studied the course map a little better. 

It was discouraging to know that we still had to keep heading out on the endless out and back, but I did my best to not let it throw me off, and held it together for mile 19, which I ran in 7:52, and mile 20 - 7:49. 

And shortly after mile 20, we finally, finally got to turn around for the back portion of the out and back. It should have energized me and pushed me to pick it up even more. That was my plan. I did it in Boston a few years ago, and I hoped I could do it again here. 

But this, I think, is where everything caught up to me - starting to push the pace a few miles too early; the two and a half weeks I had to take off; the fact that I hadn't done any speed work for the second half of my training; the fact that I missed an 18-miler and a 20-miler; the fact that I wasn't able to run my last two 20-milers as dress rehearsals (i.e., no stopping to walk for water/Gu). It all came crashing down in the form of exhaustion and legs that felt like lead. 

I ran mile 21 in 8:12, mostly because I took a pretty decent walk break at the water stop. That little break rejuvenated me enough that I was able to run 22 in 7:38, but that was pretty much all the pep I had left.

Miles 23 to 26 were a battle. I fought for every step. I felt myself clomping along, and tried as hard as I could to focus on my form and be more efficient - the things that usually help me at the end of a race - but it just wasn't happening. 

At the halfway point, I had thought a PR was a possibility, but as I saw all those final mile splits coming in above the 8-minute mark, I knew it wasn't going to happen today. But I also knew that I wasn't going to quit completely. I wasn't going to limp into the finish. I was going to continue to push forward and run as fast as I possibly could, even though it wasn't anywhere near as fast as I had hoped to be running at that point.

I knew I could still finish with a time that I'd be proud of, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to let that go. 

And given how rotten I felt, I'm actually kind of proud that I was even able to run the splits I did for those last three miles - 8:16, 8:32, and 8:15 (and a teeny tiny kick of 7:45 pace for the final .2).

It was nothing but stubbornness and determination that powered me through that final stretch, and I'm glad I have those two qualities in spades, because it meant I was able to finish in a very respectable 3:32:59. 

I didn't get my PR, but I did assure myself a spot for Boston 2016 (with 12 minutes to spare), and I did finish with pride, because I gave it my all. 

You always second-guess yourself after a big effort like this - could I have pushed harder? Did I give in to the fatigue too easily? But I keep going over it again and again, and I have no doubt that I ran for all I was worth, and I left nothing in the tank. When I crossed that finish line, I was done. 

On that day, I ran the absolute best race I had in me, and that is all I can ever ask of myself. 

As usual, I spent the entire walk through the finisher's chute crying on and off. The emotion of standing on the starting line is nothing compared to the emotion of finishing. And you might think that when you've already done this 5 times before, that effect is lessened - but you'd be wrong.

There are no words to describe the mix of elation and exhaustion and pride - it completely envelops you, and it's one of the greatest things I've ever experienced (which is part of the reason I keep going back for more!) 

We were fortunate enough to get late checkout at the hotel, so I was able to hobble back and shower and change, and walked over to Reading Terminal to meet up with Erica and another friend and grab myself some food for the train ride home.

I also ran into Sarah and another mother runner at the train station, which was a great way to end the weekend. 

I have to admit that there is a small part of me that is disappointed with the outcome of my race, only in the sense that everything else about the day was so perfectly aligned to make it a PR kind of day - the weather, the course, and my fueling and hydration, which were spot on. It's a shame that my legs didn't quite cooperate. 

But what I take away from this race and this training cycle is that I am absolutely 100% certain that if I remain healthy and complete my next marathon training cycle in its entirety, with no injuries and no time off, I will get that sub-3:30. Through the first 8 weeks of training, I was right there - hitting and usually exceeding my target paces. 

And even with that interruption in my training, and having to scale back for the second half of the plan, I was still able to go out and run a 3:32 - which was, realistically, pretty much what I figured I'd do, even though I was still secretly hoping for a PR.

That outcome under those less-than-ideal circumstances gives me so much confidence in my abilities that even as I'm still walking around with sore legs and tired feet, I'm already thinking about how I'm going to get out there and attack the next one. 

I will never get tired of doing this. The emotional roller coaster, the constant fear of injury, the early morning wakeups, the grueling workouts at the track, the hours and hours spent on the roads in all kinds of weather, both good and downright awful - it's all completely and totally worth it, and I will keep doing it for as long as my body cooperates - which will hopefully be a very long time. 

And the other thing I take away from this race is that it was just a really, really fun weekend. I spent time with some great old friends, and made a whole bunch of new friends, had a lot of good laughs, ate some fabulous food, and did a lot of relaxing. The whole experience - including the race - was good for the soul, and I'm so thankful that I was able to do it. 

The final numbers from Philly 2014 - 

3:32:59, 8:07 pace (26.56 mi, 8:01 pace by my Garmin)

25 of 620 in my age group 

310 of 4,612 females

1,751 of 10, 333 overall

Great numbers, great race and great weekend. 

Week 16 - Race Day Strategy

I signed up for Philly last spring looking for redemption, and I'm still hoping I can get it. 

As I got ready to run Boston this past April, I knew full well that it wasn't going to be the race I wanted it to be. Coming back from a months-long injury layoff and only completing 8 weeks of so-so training was not the way to prepare myself to run 26.2 miles, and if it had been any other race, I wouldn't have even done it.

But it wasn't any other race, and I did do it, and it was as difficult as I knew it would be. And even before I stood on the starting line in Hopkinton, I was already plotting what race I could use to redeem myself - where I could hopefully stay healthy and complete an entire training cycle and run the way I knew I was capable of running. Philly seemed like the perfect choice. 

The plan got slightly off-track with my injury back in September, and I can't say it's been a flawless training cycle by any means. But I have managed to get mostly back on track during these past few weeks, and the way I'm running right now, I feel almost as strong and ready as I did before I ran Boston 2013 (which was the best I've ever felt going into a marathon). 

So to even feel close to that point is pretty great, and although I've had some ups and downs this week - waiting leaves way too much time for the doubt to creep in - a great 5-mile run this morning turned my mood around completely, and I am feeling so ready to be on that starting line. 

My goal when I embarked on this training plan was a 3:25 marathon, which is a 7:49 pace. And my strategy was going to be to run the first half right around an 8:00 pace and then work my way down to negative split the second half, and come in hopefully right around 3:25, but I would have been happy with anything between 3:25 and 3:30. 

Given the little hiccup I faced last month, though, I feel I need to be more conservative in the first half, and am planning to start in the low 8s. I want the first 10 or 12 miles to feel really easy, and judging by how I've been running, a pace around 8:10 should feel easy. 

After mile 12 or so, I'll gradually drop down every mile, and will hopefully hit a sub-8 pace within the first few miles after the halfway point. And if that continues to feel ok, I'll keep pushing and see just how much of a negative split I can pull off. 

I feel like a 3:30-ish finish is a reasonable expectation, if all goes well. And unless I hit the wall, a BQ for 2016 (3:45) should be a certainty. 

The weather looks like it's going to cooperate, which is extremely helpful! It will likely be chilly at the start, but not frigid, so one layer of throwaway clothes should be plenty. And low 50s is pretty close to my ideal temperature - perfect for short sleeves, armwarmers, and shorts. 

My train departs bright and early tomorrow morning, and I know that stepping onto the train and getting on my way is going to feel so good, after enduring these days of waiting (and hardly any running).

Today is about packing, beginnning to hydrate (and carb load a bit), and focusing on positive thoughts. 

I feel healthy, I feel strong, and I feel ready. There isn't much more I could ask for. 

Three days!!!! 

Week 12 - How Is It Week 12 Already????

After my miraculously quick recovery from my adductor strain, and the subsequent 20-miler that I was able to run last Sunday, my attitude and outlook completely changed. I had been feeling cautious and nervous and uncertain about whether or not I'd run Philly at all, and thinking that even if I did run it, it would be a slower effort, and I'd have to let go of any time goals and just run for the experience. 

But after I pulled off that 20 last Sunday, everything shifted. I allowed myself to get excited again. I allowed myself to look around on the race website and check out the elevation profile and the course map, and confirm my hotel reservations and look into train tickets. 

And then I ran again Tuesday, and averaged a 7:47 pace for 8 miles. I can't say it was easy - the 7:47 that would have felt easy a month ago felt pretty challenging - but I did it, and that boosted my confidence even more, so I allowed myself to think that maybe I'd still be able to get BQ for 2016 (I need to run a 3:45). 

And then on Thursday, I ran 10 miles at a 7:42 pace, and it felt easier than the Tuesday run. I ran farther and faster, but it felt easier (despite the fact that a few of those miles were run directly int a headwind that was blowing about 25 - 30mph, courtesy of the remnants of a Nor'easter that had come thorugh the night before, causing me to literally hold onto my hat a few times, so it wouldn't blow away).

So then I allowed myself to think that even though I'm certain a PR is still overreaching a bit, I may have a shot at coming at least close to my current PR of 3:30. 

And then yesterday, this happened - 

20 miles, at an average 7:58 pace. WHAT???  

I went into that 20-miler hoping that I could run the 8:04 pace that was on my training schedule. Even though I'm not doing speedwork, I was thinking I'd like to try to at least do the tempo runs and hit the goal paces for the long runs for these final few weeks. And 20 miles at an 8:00 pace is something I've done before, so I felt like I had to get out there and give it my best shot. 

Nothing in the world like starting a run at this spot at sunrise - I'll never get tired of it. 

I was very careful to start conservatively, and my first mile was in the 8:40s, and the second mile 8:22, but then I quickly dipped down to the low 8s for the remainder of the first half of the run. And I was feeling really good. The weather was perfect, and I ran into a bunch of other runners from the club - always nice to see familiar faces out there when you're running solo - and I was just cruising along and having so much fun. 

I ran the first 7 miles as one loop, and after a quick stop at my car, headed back out to run the Gansett Half course (giving myself every advantage to run a faster second half). As soon as I hit mile 10, I started to see the sub-8s on my watch. I worried a little bit about whether or not I'd be able to keep it up for 10 miles, but I knew there was only one way to find out, so I kept at it. 

And happily, I was able to keep it up, even running the last 5 miles in 7:48, 7:46, 7:42, 7:44, and 7:32. Those last two miles were challenging, but I also finished feeling like I could have kept going. And I'm only a little embarrassed to admit that I shed a few tears when I finished and looked back at my splits and my overall pace.

To think that 4 weeks ago I was literally limping around my house, and in excrutiating pain every time I stood up from a seated position - and to now find myself able to run the fastest 20-miler of my entire life, and feel GOOD when I finished....   It's way beyond what I imagined I'd be able to do right now, and I was completely overwhelmed with gratitude. And pretty excited, too! 

I still have little voices in my head that remind me that despite this amazing 20-miler, my training has been inconsistent, and I've only gotten in 8 weeks of speedwork (and won't be doing anymore), so I'm not in the shape I wanted to be in at this point - but the shape I'm in is pretty damn good, considering what's happened the past few weeks. 

I may be slightly off track, but it's not making me doubt my ability to run well - what it's doing is making me even  more aware that I need to be cautious and start slow, so that I can finish strong - if I can do that, I feel confident that I can still get out there and run close to the race that I wanted to run. 

And I feel like unless I have a meltdown of epic proportions, I should be able to get my third Boston Qualifier. I know full well that I need a few minutes for a cushion if I want to not just qualify, but also get in and run it, but I still feel like I should be able to manage that. 

The one thing I know for certain is that I am finally back to being crazy excited to run this race! I had one of those moments last week where it hit me that "oh my god, I'm running another marathon in a few weeks!" The injury rehab has had me so distracted that the weeks have just slipped away, and I'm suddenly finding myself nearly at the point of tapering. 

It's good to feel optimistic and confident and happy and excited again. I was keeping all that under wraps the past few weeks, but it's back full force now! Training for and running a marathon never gets old, and it never loses the magic. So glad that I'm going to be able to experience it another time. 

4 weeks! 

Week 9, In Which I Wasn't Supposed To Run, But Kinda Sorta Did

Sometimes a week seems to fly by. Other times - like when you're supposed to be training for a marathon but you're injured and can't run - the minutes, hours, and days seem to drag on endlessly.

And being a slightly obsessed runner, you fill many of those minutes and hours and days by looking at the workouts on your training schedule that you're not completing, and wondering just how much it's setting you back. 

So yeah, it wasn't the best of weeks. Which is not to say I'm totally despondent and depressed. But I'm not bursting with joy, either. I'm somewhere in the middle, which I think is best described as coping, and making the best of things. 

And truthfully, although I thought there was going to be no running whatsoever this week, I did complete one run - even though I really shouldn't have. 

Backing up, though - I had two PT visits, both focused on a lot of Graston and a lot of ART, both of which felt great. I don't find the Graston painful at all (some people do), and while the ART can feel slightly uncomfortable, it also feels like your injured muscles are getting the most incredible stretch - one that you could never in a million years achieve on your own - so in that sense, it feels good. 

I had another appointment today, and go back again Thursday, and will try to fit in two more appointments next week, also. I had an acupuncture appointment scheduled for today, too, but had to cancel it due to lack of childcare. I can bring Carmine to my PT appointments, but I don't think bringing him to an acupuncture appointment would work out too well. Hopefully I'll be able to get in there soon, though, because I really think it would be helpful.

And aside from the PT, I've been falling back on my usual cross-training options of biking, elliptical, and weights. Haven't hit the pool yet, but I am thinking about adding that back into the schedule. 

But by the time Saturday rolled around, I was thoroughly sick of being in the gym, and even though it was a drizzly, gray day, I needed to be outside. But I don't like riding my road bike when the roads are wet. So I hopped on Scott's mountain bike, planning to just ride up and back on the bike path.

But once I got going, I felt great and wanted to ride more, so ended up making my way down the bike path to Route 2, and rode all the way up that road and back, and then took the bike path back home, for a total of almost 25 miles. 

It's a very different experience being on the mountain bike, but in the bad weather, it felt like a good choice. And it's so much tougher riding with the big tires, I definitely felt like I got a great workout. 

But most importantly, I had fun. I like cross-training at the gym - I don't have to force myself to do it, because I do mostly enjoy it. But it's not FUN in the way that getting on my bike or going for a run are. Being outside (even in the rain), and moving myself forward, and enjoying the scenery, and feeling the satisfaction that comes from knowing that under my own power I covered 25 miles - that's fun - a type of fun that will never, ever come from pedaling a machine indoors. 

And I had so much fun on that bike ride, I thought I'd be ready to do it again on Sunday, but on my road bike this time, as the weather was forecast to be beautiful. 

But the weather was so beautiful that I woke up thinking of nothing but going for a run. I thought about it all morning. When I had left PT on Thursday, I was on my way out the door, but then turned around and went back to ask the question I sort of didn't want to hear the answer to - "Should I run or not?"  I was pretty sure the answer would be not, which is why I almost didn't ask it, but I forced myself to go back, and as I expected, the advice was to continue to stick with cross-training at least until my next appointment on Monday. 

I'm typically a very good patient, and I follow orders that are given to me. But everyone screws up occasionally, right?

As I debated whether or not to lace up my shoes Sunday morning, I bargained endlessly with myself. I made excuses for why it would be ok to run a few miles. I talked myself out of it (several times), and then talked myself back into it. 

I thought about how great I would feel being out there running, but then how guilty I would feel when I got back home, knowing full well that I shouldn't have done it. 

In the end, I caved. And I was right - it felt fabulous to be out there running. But even as I ran, I thought about how I shouldn't be doing it. But I didn't stop. 

I definitely felt some discomfort in my hip, but it felt better than I expected it to. And as I warmed up, it continued to feel better. So much so that I ended up running 8 miles. Yeah, stupid. 

But what's done is done, and although I know I shouldn't have done it, I don't really regret it. 

The result of those 8 miles - some discomfort that afternoon, and a tiny bit of lingering soreness today, but overall, far better than I thought I'd feel, which I guess is kind of encouraging? 

So where I'm at is really not much different than last week. I'm going to run if I can, but with every day that goes by, I feel less confident about Philly. Being able to go out and run 8 miles does not mean I can go out and run 20 miles, or 8 miles of speedwork, or a 10-mile tempo run - and if I want to run Philly the way I wanted to run Philly, that's what I'd need to be doing right now. 

I'm not interested in fighting through a few more long runs just to muddle my way through those 26.2 miles and finish with another 3:53. I did that in Boston, and the whole point of aiming for Philly was to redeem myself and run a marathon the right way - to train fully and run the race the way I know I'm capable of running it (if I stayed healthy).

So if I can't really go for it and give it my all, I don't know that it's worth the expense and the effort, especially since I'd still be flirting with major injury issues and risking having to take time off post-race because I pushed so hard to get through the full distance.

I'm still not ruling it out entirely, but I'm doubtful, and I'm very much in limbo. But surprisingly okay with it at the moment. Having the hope that I might be able to at least get out and run a few times a week - even if it means missing Philly - that's all the hope I need right now.

Philly will be there next year, as will so many other races, and my 3:25 marathon will be there at some point, too - I feel sure of that. 

Right now I'm ready to focus on doing whatever I can to get healthy enough to just get out there and log some miles. If I can do that, everything else will work itself out in time. 

Just gotta keep moving forward....

Week 7 - Mental Training, and A Cranky Hip

I knew completing my Tuesday track workout just two days after my effort at Surftown last weekend was going to be challenging. What I didn't anticipate was just how much my brain would try to tell me that I shouldn't do it. 

I debated endlessly all day Monday. I'd have moments where I'd be completely happy with my (momentary) decision to just do an easy 7 miles instead. Then those moments would be followed by waves of guilt that I was even thinking about skipping a workout. 

Such is the self-inflicted drama and emotional torture of being on a marathon training plan. I have no coach to report to, no prize money at stake, nobody to answer to but myself - but that's more than enough. 

As I stepped out the door with my Garmin on, I was still debating what I was going to do, but of course my feet led me, somewhat reluctantly, to the track. 

 

I got right to work, figuring that I'd rather just get it over with. I was supposed to do 6 x 800, with 90 seconds rest. Even as I took my first strides, I was already trying to talk myself into doing fewer than 6. Tough, tough mental demons hanging around in my head that day. 

My legs actually felt surprisingly ok for the first repeat, though, which was encouraging, and got me thinking that maybe I'd go for at least 4, and 5 if I was feeling ok after 4 (Which is such a joke, because you NEVER feel ok after 4. The more you do, the worse you feel - but these are the tricks we try to play on our brains). 

I did make a concession with the rest intervals, though, taking a full 400m (just over 2 minutes) rather than just 90 seconds. And after the second repeat, I was very thankful for those extra 30 or 40 seconds of rest, because the second one felt decidedly less ok than the first. 

By the time I finished the third one, my legs were jello. I could barely breathe. I decided 4 would be good. I had just run sub-marathon pace for the final 10 miles of a 20-miler - I deserved to cut myself some slack, right? 

I somehow got through the 4th one, and I don't know how, but found the energy to do one more, for 5 total. That was it, though. I was D.O.N.E., and dragged myself off the track and back home.

I was glad it was done, but I can honestly say that was the hardest track workout of this training cycle so far. The good news, though, is that I hit my goal pace for every single interval. So at least there's that! 

Thursday tempo was so much smoother. I can't say enough about how much I love tempo runs. This was my longest one yet, but I wasn't really all that nervous, since the goal was to run 6 miles at 7:34 pace, which is a tad slower than my half marathon race pace. I knew I could do it, and was actually kind of looking forward to it. 

It went as well as I expected it to - my first tempo mile was 7:42, but then I dropped right down to 7:34, 7:20, 7:31, 7:28, and the final mile at 7:07. Me and tempo runs really get along :-) 

Saturday was another test of mental strength, but I kind of planned it that way. I only had to run 13 miles, and the goal pace was 8:04. I knew that it would almost feel easy to run that on a flat course (I had planned to run the Gansett Half course), and thought that it would be good to challenge myself and try to run that pace on a hillier route. 

It was a beautiful, cool, dry morning, and I felt great right through mile 9 or so. I was staying right around an 8-minute pace - with an occasional sub-8 - and feeling really good. I've had some tightness in my hip flexor the past two weeks, and am actually scheduled for PT next week, but it had actually started to feel a lot better during the week, and wasn't bothering me at all. 

I knew the last 4 miles would be the hilliest, and I was prepared for that, but I guess not prepared enough, because those hills did a number on me. I was able to keep my pace at just below 8, but I was struggling. It felt much harder than it should have. Part of the reason, I'm certain, is that I opted not to bring a Gu for this run. I typically take one at the halfway point of 13.1 if I'm racing, but I've done 13-mile training runs without it and been ok.

But this time it was definitely affecting me, so much that at about mile 10.5, I stopped to walk. This was the first time I had walked the entire run, and I typically don't take walk breaks very often anyway. I was feeling very defeated.

 

I walked for about 30 seconds, took a drink of my water, and told myself that with only 2.5 miles to go, I'd better just put my head down and get it done. And as I started running again, it was like someone had flipped a switch. It didn't feel easy, but it no longer felt like I was running through mud with shoes made of bricks. 

I felt lighter, and I felt happier, and I ran faster, dropping from 7:59, to 7:43, to 7:36. 

It wasn't without a little bump in the road, but in the end, I finished strong. And it's better that the little bump in the road came during a training run. That's where you want those moments to happen, so you can learn how to deal with them and overcome them. (And you can also learn what your limits are in terms of forgoing fuel on a long run!)

So all's well that ends well in that respect, but after that run, my hip flexor that had been slightly sore and achy was suddenly really hurting. I suspect the hillier route aggravated it, but whatever it was, I was in tough shape all day and night Saturday. Thankfully, with a ton of foam rolling and stretching, it felt a lot better Sunday, and it's barely noticeable today. 

I'm going to go ahead and run my track workout tomorrow, and hopefully it'll be ok. But I'm glad I have my PT appt. scheduled, too, because something is clearly a little 'off,' and I need some help getting it fixed up so I can continue on - lots more work left to do. 

Nine weeks! 

My 5th Blessing, A New PR, and Philly!

After the incredible physical and mental challenges I faced down in Jamestown a few weeks ago, I told myself that even if it was a really hot and humid night, the Blessing of the Fleet 10-miler was going to feel easy in comparison. And I really did believe that, and I was confident that I was going to walk away from the race with a PR. 

Then I saw the weather forecast, and I knew that the only way I would't PR was if something went horribly wrong. The day's high was predicted to be 80 degrees, with unusually low humidity. Warm, but not hot, and blissfully, wonderfully dry - you can't ask for much better than that in late July in New England. 

I had every intention of getting to the start early, but misjudged the amount of traffic there would be, and ended up dashing over to the starting line with just 10 minutes to spare. Clearly an improvement over being 20 minutes late like I was in Jamestown, but not quite the relaxed pre-race routine I had hoped for. It was fine, though - I was ready to go, so it may have been better to not have a lot of time pacing around anxiously. 

I was so nervous standing at the starting line. I felt like I should be able to run between a 7:20 and 7:25 pace, but you never know what's going to happen until you're actually out there getting it done. 

Going out too fast is a big problem at most races, but even more so at this one. The first mile is mostly a slight downhill, and the energy of the crowd and the pack of runners is overwhelming, and it's so, so easy to get caught up in it and burn yourself out before you've even gotten started. 

I did a decent job, though, and my first two miles were both 7:20 - maybe not holding back, but definitely not going too fast. As I expected, the 7:20s felt great for miles 1 and 2 - I felt like I could run that pace forever. I knew that feeling would fade, but I figured I'd enjoy it while it lasted. 

I ran with music in Jamestown, but decided not to for this race. The crowds at this one are so great, and I knew there were at least a few people who would be out there cheering for me, and I wanted to hear them :-) 

I had planned to try to keep a consistent, moderate pace for the first 3 or 4 miles, and then see how I was feeling and see if I could pick it up at all. I wasn't looking at my watch too often, but I was checking my splits at each mile mark, and I was happy to see 7:22 for mile 3 and 7:23 for mile 4, and 7:22 for mile 5.

My legs just felt locked into that pace, and it wasn't feeling easy, but it wasn't feeling any more challenging than any tempo run I've done the past few weeks, so I was doing ok. Miles 5 and 6 are the worst on the course, though - a stretch that runs along a secondary highway that's just a long, boring, hot stretch of road. Thankfully it wasn't all that hot this year, but it was as boring and seemingly endless as ever. 

I've run that stretch of road countless times on training runs, but no matter how prepared you are for it, it still sucks. But I knew I had to just put my head down and keep moving and get through it, and once I turned off that road, I'd be on one of my favorite stretches of the course.

Mile 6 was actually my slowest of the entire race - 7:27 - but it didn't concern me. I was getting tired, but I also knew I was more than halfway there, and only had a few miles to go. 

As we headed into the shady, wooded area on Kinney Ave, I breathed a sigh of relief. This is very much a turning point in the race for me. It's when the fatigue sets in, but it's also when you're nearing the end, so you know it's time to push the fatigue aside and just get it done. 

I desperately wanted to stop and walk at a water stop during this mile, but I felt like stopping would make it worse, so I opted to grab my water on the run, as I had been doing all along. I was only taking a couple small sips each time, but it felt like enough, since it wasn't too hot. 

Getting some amazingly awesome cheers from one of my friends just around the mile 7 mark gave me a big boost, which was helped along by a little downhill stretch to the next corner, where there were some huge crowds and another friend yelling my name.  

But as we turned that corner and headed toward the mile 8 mark, I wanted so badly to be done. I was exhausted, and my legs were not happy to still be running. I started having to remind myself that no matter how tired I was, mile 8 of a 10-mile race is NOT the time to slow down. 

And I didn't. Mile 8 - 7:15 - even with a little hill in there. It really is a very small hill, but it comes at a very bad time and can definitely take the wind out of your sails. I kept pushing, though, knowing that mile 9 was right around the corner. When I heard the beep for mile 9, I looked down to see 7:13 on my watch. The thought that went through my head at that point was - "well, that explains why this hurts so much." 

Then it was time to ignore the watch and just run. Like I tell myself in every race - it doesn't matter what the watch says at that point - the last mile is just about pouring your heart and soul into it and running as fast as you can, and it will either be good enough, or it won't - but I don't need a watch to tell me when I'm doing that. I know full well when I'm giving it my absolute all, and that's exactly what I did, and it did turn out to be good enough - good enough for a 7:04 mile 10, a 1:14:11 finish, and a PR. 

There is no doubt in my mind that I left it all on the course for this race. I ran the absolute best race I was capable of running, and I'm pleased with the results. I always wish I could have run faster, but I'm happy that I was able to run as fast as I did - and as fast as I thought I would be able to run. 

I'm even more pleased, though, with the fact that my splits were so incredibly consistent. Even pacing is not an easy thing to pull off, and it's always great when you're able to do it. And to top it off with negative splits for those last 3 miles - that's just the icing on the cake. 

 

 I love this race, and I love that I've set a new PR every single year that I've run it. The 10-mile distance is a fun one, and a great challenge, and I'm glad to have this event to test myself at this distance once a year. 

The final numbers - 

1:14:11 (official times say I ran 1:14:23, but I am going by my Garmin, because I know I started and stopped it the second I crossed the mats, and what was posted as my official time is actually my gun time, not my chip time - so when I run next year, 1:14:11 will be the time to beat)

7:19 pace

6 of 330 in my age group

292 of 2881 overall

Another great year, and one of the highlights of my summer racing, but I'm also glad it's done, because now that this race and Jamestown are behind me, it's time to move on. Philly training begins next week, and I'm incredibly nervous, but incredibly excited, too. 

I hemmed and hawed about creating my own training plan, but in the end, I decided to stick with the tried and true, and am returning to Run Less, Run Faster. But this time, the goal time is a rather scary 3:25. 

Three hours and 25 minutes. Which equals a 7:50 pace. For 26.2 miles. It's daunting.

But I honestly believe it's within reach. I wouldn't go after it if I didn't. 

And as I think about how scary (but exciting) that sounds to me right now, I can't help but think about how the 3:45 I was aiming for in Hartford 3 years ago felt exactly the same. It seems crazy to me to think about how far I've come in just a few years, yet I can still remember precisely what it felt like when I stood in downtown Hartford on that chilly race morning, looking at the arch that I'd finish under a few hours later. 

I was driving around doing errands today, listening to music in the car, and I had hit shuffle on my iPhone and "Lose Yourself" by Eminem came on - a song I haven't heard in years, but a song that was at the top of my playlist for Hartford, and the song that I listened to as I stood waiting around for the race to start that morning 3 years ago. 

And when it came on today, and I heard the words that resonated with me so much that year, and that almost instantly turned my nervous anxiety into fierce determination, I was covered with goosebumps. "So here I go it's my shot, feet fail me not, this may be the only opportunity that I got." 

Yes, I know this isn't necessarily the only opportunity I'll ever have to go after a 3:25 marathon, just like that wasn't my only opportunity to go after a BQ - but at that moment, and at this moment, it's good to think of it that way. This is my shot, and I need to go after it with everything I've got. 

It may be hard for some people to understand how passionate I am about my goals. I know I'll never win a race, and I'll never be anything other than a recreational runner - but when I look back and see those race results, and that tangible proof that I can accomplish so much more than I ever would have thought possible - there's just so much pride and joy and satisfaction in that; it's difficult to put into words. 

So now the journey begins again. The journey to my sixth marathon finish line - in a new city, and hopefully with a new PR. I've got my work cut out for me, and it isn't going to be easy - but that hasn't stopped me yet. 

Boston 2014. Everyone Finishes Today.

It's hard to know where to begin with this race recap, but knowing that it ends with happiness makes it a little easier to get started.

The goal for this year's Boston was simple - finish. Nine weeks of training (2 of which were taper) means time goals have to fall by the wayside, and you need to check your ego at the door. The marathon is not a distance to mess with. 

Not having a time goal took away some of the pre-race nerves, but the final week before the race became infinitely more stressful when Dante came down with a stomach bug. I washed my hands 'til they were raw, downed megadoses of Vitamin C, and prayed that I would be able to avoid it. To say I was on edge is an understatement.

I pushed all the stress aside for Saturday, though, because that was Expo Day with my friends! We got up to the Expo mid-morning, and immediately picked up our numbers.

The Expo was insanely crowded, and it was tough to even walk in some spots. It felt like there were twice as many people as last year. We made our way through and checked out most of the booths, though, and were even fortunate enough to meet and talk with Kathrine Switzer, and I was completely starstruck. She is amazingly kind and warm and friendly, and I am now even more in awe of her. An incredible woman.

I also got to meet up with some other bloggers/FB page owners, which was really fun. We've shared our Boston journeys all year long, and it was great to finally see each other in person!

Walking down Boylston Street after we left the Expo was kind of strange. I wasn't really sad - it just felt odd to see it all set up for race day again. Almost a little surreal. But exciting, too.

Sunday was Easter, and we didn't have big plans, but we did have enough to do that it made the day slightly less relaxing than I would have wanted. But since I knew I wasn't going into the race with big time goals like last year, I didn't stress too much. I had gathered most of my stuff on Saturday night, so just had to re-check my list and pack everything up, and I got that done early Sunday afternoon, got to bed too late, and the alarm was blaring before I knew it.

Heading to the bus early Monday morning, I found myself crying on and off. It was impossible not to think about that same car ride last year, and how unbelievably excited I was, and how full of anticipation and such glee that I was on my way to run my first Boston - only to have the day come crashing down in such a tragic way.

Once I got there and saw my friends, though, the sadness receded. I've said all through this training that I was so thankful they were all going to be there this year, but I'll say it again - it made all the difference in the world, and put so much joy into a day that was an emotional struggle for me at many times.

We made our final preparations as we waited on the bus in Hopkinton - put on the Boston tattoos they had handed out at the Expo, wrote our names on our arms with Sharpies, final applications of Body Glide, and got ourselves ready to go.

I had throwaway clothes and armwarmers, but I barely needed any of them. It was just slightly cool as we got onto the bus to the Athlete's Village, but by the time we got off the bus and started walking to the start, I had tossed my long sleeves and pants.

It was very close to my wave start time (10:25), so I didn't go to Athlete's Village at all this year, so I'm glad I had time to check it out last year. 

A few final porta-pottie stops, and before I knew it, I was standing in my corral, again fighting back tears. The overall mood was incredibly joyful and celebratory, though, and the sun was shining, and it was just a sea of runners everywhere you looked. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring.

It was also warm. Much warmer than I had anticipated. It felt like it was already close to 60 degrees, and I wondered how much that was going to increase as we ran. The forecasts I had seen had predicted highs between 62 and 67, so I was a little bit nervous, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. I did take off my armwarmers before we even started, though. I knew I wasn't going to be needing them.

Since I was way back in Corral 8, it took nearly 5 minutes to actually cross the starting line, but then I was there, and I was off. And I was struggling. Not physically, but emotionally. I was having a hard time getting my head to a happy place, and it took me a good mile to a mile and a half to make that shift.

I got there, though, and once I did, the happier memories from last year came through, and I started smiling as we made our way past spots on the course that I remembered vividly - the bluegrass band playing in the early miles; the biker bar in Ashland - and I soaked up the cheering and the smiles and the enthusiasm of the spectators lining the course, knowing that it was just going to get better.

A few miles in, I saw a sign that completely defined the day for me, and I almost wish I had stopped to take a picture. "Everyone Finishes Today," it read.

It's so hard to not focus on how emotional the day was for me, but there was still the fact that I had to run 26.2 miles, and I was not truly trained for the task.

I was mostly cruising along at about an 8:40 pace in the early miles, with a few miles around 8:30, and even a few in the 8:20s. This was the easy part of the course, and I knew I needed to hold back, but I truly felt the 8:40 pace was one I should be able to hold for the whole race (and if the weather had been cooler, I think I might have been able to come close).

I was stopping to walk at all the water stops, but they were very quick walk breaks, and I was feeling pretty good. The downhills continue right through about mile 7 or 8, and then things flatten out a little bit. I continued to remember landmarks from last year, and every time I did, it made me smile.

The crowds were incredible, and I high-fived countless kids' hands, and every time someone yelled my name I threw my hands in the air and smiled. I remembered that my goal this year was to run these miles and enjoy them, and that's what I was doing.

I can't lie, though - as I continued watching the miles tick slowly by, I did have times where I was feeling daunted at how much further I still had to go. I felt ok, but I definitely didn't have the boundless energy and optimism I had last year. But I just worked on pushing those thoughts aside and running the mile I was in. 

Despite not having a real time goal, I did still have the hope in the back of my mind that I might be able to requalify. It was a long shot, but I thought I might be able to pull it off.

But then I hit the halfway point, and my time was 1:53. And it was just getting warmer. And the sun was relentless.

For a few minutes, I halfheartedly tried to do some math in my head and figure out if there was any way I could still pull this off.

But then I let it go. I fully and completely accepted that it was not going to happen today, and once I did that, I felt so much better.

The 13 miles that remained still loomed kind of large, but I knew the pressure was off. I just had to get through them and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I still had a couple more 8:40-ish miles in me, though, and I was still feeling comfortable, so I kept that pace range for the next couple of miles. I dipped down to a 9:12 for mile 16, as I had to duck into a porta-potty. I had felt like I had to pee for at least a few miles, and once I decided I didn't care what my finish time was, I was fine with stopping, and I'm glad I did, because I felt much better.

But the toughest part of the course was coming up, and my pace reflected that. I was getting tired, I was hot, and I was developing some serious shin splints down the front of my left leg - it wasn't the spot where I was injured - it was a new area, and it hurt with every step, as did the outside of my left quad.

I was determined to not stop and walk on any of the hills, though, and I didn't. But I slowed. A lot. And I continued to walk at the water stops, but now my walk breaks were becoming longer and longer.

They rejuvenated me, though, and each time I stopped to walk, I also stretched out my shin a little bit, and I'd feel better for much of the next mile. And I knew I  just had to keep repeating that process.

My heart skipped a beat when I stepped in a little divot in the road somewhere around mile 16 or 17 and rolled my ankle a bit. It wasn't enough to cause any pain - just enough to scare the crap out of me.

I kept trudging along, though, and I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at how much the hills were beating me up this year, when I remembered feeling so triumphant powering up them last year.

But I kept going. Because all I could think about at this point was the finish line. I wanted that finish line so badly, and I knew there was only one way to get to it - run.

I posted on Facebook that I fought for every step of the final 10 miles of the race, and that's the best way to describe it. I still smiled, and I still high-fived, but I was struggling. After each water stop and walk break, I told myself that I just had to get to the next mile marker and the next water stop. One step, one mile at a time.

I didn't feel like I was hitting the wall - that happened to me when I ran Gansett, and it was a different feeling - an almost instantaneous shutdown. This was just the accumulated fatigue, and probably some dehydration (I had seen a bank clock displaying the temperature at 65 degrees, and I could feel the layer of salty sweat that had accumulated on my face), and the lack of proper training all catching up with me.

My pace had slowed at this point to just below 9-minute miles, with a few above 9. I was barely looking at my watch, though. The time was irrelevant. I just needed to finish.

Heading back into the city lifted my spirits, and the crowds had increased tenfold. I'm smiling and getting goosebumps just thinking about it. The energy in Boston was unparalleled. I had been so impressed with it last year, and it was like that times 100 this year. Like nothing I've ever experienced in my life, and I reminded myself how incredibly lucky I was just to be there. Remembering that helped.

Most of the last few miles are a blur, except for when I spotted my friend Crissy in Coolidge Corner. I had seen her last year, but I just waved and flew by, as I was having the race of my life and running negative splits and it was all about the goal. This year, though, I stopped and gave her a big hug, and I'm so glad I did. There's nothing quite like seeing someone you know out on the course, and it was a great moment for me.

I took my final walk break shortly after mile 25. I knew I needed to run the final stretch, and I wanted to gather my energy.

And then, after all that way, and all that pain, and all that persistence, there I was - turning right on Hereford and about to make my way onto Boylston.

I don't think I'll ever be able to adequately describe what that run down Boylston Street felt like. The roar of the crowd was unbelievable. It seeped into your heart, and it carried you along, and legs that had been sore and tired just moments ago suddenly turned over just a little quicker.

As I started down that last half mile, I cried. There was no stopping it. It was an entire year's worth of sadness, confusion, grief, stress, fear, guilt - every emotion that had swirled around in my head since last April came pouring out, as I knew it would.

This is not a flattering race photo, to say the least, but it's one of my favorites, because this was the moment that I had been waiting for - the moment when I let go of the bad from last year, and moved forward. I knew that covering those miles again was what I needed to do in order for that to happen, and I'm incredibly grateful that I was able to do it.

I pulled it together just before the finish line, because I wanted to cross smiling - and I did.

More tears as I made my way through the chute and got my medal, but they were mostly tears of relief that I had done it.

It was nowhere near a qualifying time, and 23 minutes slower than last year, but I had done it.

I fought back from my injury, I fought through a tough, hot, painful final 10 miles, I fought through the emotions - I made my way from Hopkinton to Boston a second time, and I will never forget that experience as long as I live.

The one-mile walk to the hotel where I was meeting other members of my running club was a long, long haul, but it was pretty awesome once I got there - members of the staff were lined up in the lobby cheering on every runner who walked through the door.

And being able to hang out and celebrate - truly celebrate - with my friends in a way we really couldn't last year - that was priceless.

It was blessedly uneventful, as we rehashed each other's race experiences and compared notes on blisters and chafing and sunburn. Normal post-race discussions, normal post-race glows, and normal post-race exhaustion, satisfaction, and joy.

It was exactly as I pictured it, and it was perfect.

I won't be going back to Boston next year, since I didn't requalify, but I'm really ok with that. This is the year I needed to be there, and this is the year that healed the scars from 2013. 

My first Boston Marathon will forever be linked with the terrible events of last year, and I won't ever be able to think about it without thinking about that. The sadness won't go away.

But now, I'm able to separate the two events. I'm able to take my race from last year and savor and appreciate it for what it was - the absolute best race experience of my entire life. My heart still breaks to think about how the day ended and about all the innocent lives lost or forever changed.

But I can now look back and smile, and know that it's ok that I had such a great day, and that celebrating that and remembering all the good is alright, too.

It's a little dramatic to say that it's like someone flipped a switch, but that's almost how it feels. Crossing that finish line again and having the day conclude with a truly happy ending for everyone is what my heart and my soul needed.

It was a day of healing, and a day of celebration, and a day of amazing joy and strength and resilience.

But most of all, it was a day to run, which is exactly what it should be.

We Run Together

Every marathon training cycle, you wait for one of those great, confidence-boosting long runs. One of the ones where you feel stronger than ever, and your legs seem like they're on autopilot, just pulling you along.

And when you finish, you know - you just know - that you're ready. You're beyond ready to tackle those 26.2 miles on race day, and you'll have moments where you struggle, but you're ready to push through those moments and cross that finish line like the strong, healthy runner that you are.

A few months ago, I wasn't waiting for one of those runs. I was just waiting to run any distance without pain. The idea of having a great 20-mile training run seemed like nothing more than a pipe dream. But yesterday, I made it a reality.

The forecast all week had been calling for 40-degree temps and steady rain on Sunday. That forecast quickly deteriorated to become torrential rain. Downpours. Flash flood warnings started coming in. It became very clear that this was going to be ugly.

For various reasons - none of which now seems nearly compelling enough - we decided to stick with our plan to run Sunday instead of Saturday (when it wasn't going to rain at all). Our plan was to run 10 miles, and then jump into a local 10-mile race to finish up the 20.

My personal plan was to to run easy with my friends beforehand, and then run the race at a slightly faster pace, which I figured would mean somewhere around 8:15 or 8:20.

Amazingly, not a single one of us bailed, and we all met up as planned to carpool up to the race location Sunday morning, driving through enormous puddles that covered the entire road in spots. We geared up, commented several times about how insanely stupid the whole thing was, and set out to get it done. Because we are runners, and that's what we do.

Not even 100 yards into the run, our feet were soaked. Avoiding puddles was almost pointless, as the rain was relentless, and we were going to be drenched no matter what. We ran a few loops around part of the course, and avoided (or so we thought) one section of road that was completely underwater. Unfortunately, when we looped back to make our way back to the race start, we came up against this same section of road, but we didn't have time to backtrack, so were forced to wade through the freezing cold ankle-deep water.

As we completed our ten miles, we reminded ourselves over and over again that we were building character - we were hardcore! - we would always remember this run - and if we could do this, we could do anything! 

We had time for 9 miles before the race, and got done just in time to pick up our numbers and put on dry socks and shoes and clothes. We knew they'd be soaked again in minutes, but it was nice to at least start out feeling slightly less soggy.

I had made a playlist for this race - something I haven't done in years. I had a feeling it would be a good thing to do, and I was right. I put in my headphones almost immediately and really enjoyed having some music to listen to, now that I was running alone. In the rain.

It was a small race, but due to the washed-out road (that we had waded through), the course had been changed to an out-and-back, with a turnaround at mile 5, so there was always someone running relatively close by, which was nice.

I took off way too fast and ran the first mile in 7:46. I knew that wasn't going to be sustainable, so I tried to back off a little bit, and a few glances at my Garmin told me I was staying right around an 8:00 pace.

I didn't know if I'd be able to hold that for the full 10 miles, but I was feeling so amazingly good, I thought I'd try to stick with it for as long as I could. I couldn't get over the fact that I had just run ten miles, yet I felt like I hadn't run at all, and was starting out with fresh, rested legs.

There were a couple of turnarounds where I got to see my friends, and also got to see three other friends from the running club, who were the first, second, and third female finishers - so great to see them in the lead!

The course is nothing to rave about. It's run through Quonset Point, which is a decidedly non-scenic industrial area, with some train tracks, some nondescript buildings, and a lot of very flat, open stretches of nothingness. Throw in the gray, gloomy weather, and it was even less inspiring. It was flat and fast, though, and I had my tunes keeping me distracted, so the miles were really flying by.

As we turned around at mile 5, I was still feeling good, but I was glad to be halfway done with this part of the run. I was still staying right around the 8-minute pace, and I knew if I had kept it up this long, I'd be able to finish it off. I also knew it was going to start to feel a lot tougher, though, and I mentally prepared myself for that.

Miles 5 - 7 were ok - I started to get tired, but my legs were still cooperating. At mile 7, I had to start playing a lot of mental games to keep things moving. At mile 8, I came back to my old "just get through this mile" tactic, knowing that once I hit mile 9, I could count on adrenaline to get me to the finish.

As we turned the last corner and headed into the finish, I passed a woman I had been running just behind for most of mile 8 and 9.  I was mostly competing with myself at that point - I wanted to finish strong - but yes, I was competing with her, too. And as it turns out, she was in my age group, and that last little push at the end put me in first place for that age group.

I crossed the finish in just over 1:20, and was absolutely elated. Running 10 miles, then taking first place in your age group in a 10-mile race is a guaranteed confidence booster, for sure.

I waited for two of my friends to come in, and then headed out to run one more mile. We had only gotten in 9 beforehand, and there was no way I was going to go through all that and not run a full 20 miles.

The weather during the race was a teeny tiny bit better than it had been during our pre-race miles - showers, rather than downpours - but I was still drenched all over again, and couldn't wait to get into warm, dry clothes.

Since it was a small race, the awards were done pretty quickly, and I scored a nice mug and a keychain for my age-group win. Always nice to get something I'll actually use, instead of a medal or a plaque.

There are so many more stories to tell about this epic run - how we tried to come up with some kind of military-type cadence to sing/chant as we ran. How two of my friends tried to outdo each other by seeing who could remember - and sing - all the lyrics to "Eye of the Tiger" and "Gloria." How there was very randomly a swing on a tree next to a dumpster, in the middle of this absolute nothingness we were running through, and how one of my friends got on for a quick swing (I wanted so badly to take a picture, but the thought of extracting my phone from the plastic bag and armband it was in was too daunting). How we waded through the ankle-deep puddle and almost lost our shoes to the muddy grass. How I came to a point during the race where I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.

But what I'll remember most is how thankful this run made me to have this group of friends. I was so tempted on Saturday, when it was nearly 50 degrees and blissfully dry, to just go out and do my 20 miles solo. But we had plans, and I knew that even though the weather was going to absolutely suck, I'd rather run with my friends than run alone. And I am 100% certain that I made the right decision.

As I trained for Boston last year, I got all the emails about when everyone was running on the weekends, and I wished I could go and run with them. But I was focused, and I had goals, and I didn't want to sacrifice those goals. And I'm glad I didn't. That's what Boston was about for me last year, and I'm proud of how hard I worked and what I gave up in order to succeed at what I set out to accomplish.

But this year has never been about that. I had thought it would be, but then I got hurt, and I had to shift my way of thinking. I had to shift it a lot, and it wasn't easy at first. I let go of my PR goal. Then I let go of my re-qualifying goal. Then I nearly let go of my 'please let me just run it and finish' goal.

And as I've made my way back and been running regularly again, I've been tempted over and over to try to find a way back to some of those goals.

But every time I thought about going out for my long run alone so that I could try to run a faster pace, I quickly changed my mind and opted to go with the group. I have nothing to prove this year - not to myself, and not to anyone else.

What I have is a need to be there, and to run the course, and to soak it all in, and to reclaim my Boston Marathon experience - and to be a part of the field of 36,000 that is reclaiming it for all of us.

The phrase on this year's banners is "We run together," and that just couldn't be more perfect.

20 days

The Big Two-Oh

In marathon training, the 20-miler looms large. Even the past few races I've done, following the Run Less, Run Faster plans that have five 20-milers per training cycle, where going out and running a 20 almost becomes the norm - even then, I still got a little nervous during the week leading up to it, and I still felt incredibly accomplished and badass when I completed it.

So this year, with the amount of time I had to take off, and the incredible uncertainty about whether I'd ever get back up to double digits - never mind 20 miles - it was really looming large, but more as a question mark than a nerve-wracking task to accomplish.

And truthfully - I kind of craved that feeling of utter exhaustion, and that feeling of not wanting to take one. more. step. but pushing through anyway. I missed it, and I spent a long time hoping I'd get to experience it again soon.

Today was the day. After a successful 15-miler two weeks ago, and a great half-marathon last weekend, I was thinking I'd go for 18 this weekend. But then I checked the calendar and realized that if I ran 20 this week, I could drop back down to 15 next week, and squeeze in one more 20 the following week before tapering down. And really - how much of a difference is there between 18 and 20? 

Let me stop here and say that I would never ever recommend that someone come back quite this aggressively from an injury layoff. If it wasn't Boston, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd be keeping my long runs in the neighborhood of 13 miles, and would be very happy with that. Without an incredibly important race on the horizon, I'd play it much safer.

But I'm pushing my luck a little bit right now, because it is Boston. And because I was there last year, making it a million times more important for me to be there again this year. So yes, I'm well aware that I'm setting a very poor example - especially given that I'm a coach, and I absolutely know better - but sometimes, you have to follow your heart, and as long as my body cooperates, that's what I'm going to do.

So I decided to try for the 20 today, with the knowledge that I could cut it short if need be.

After doing nearly all of my Boston training solo last year, it's been a real treat to do most of my long runs with my friends this year. Last year was all about paces and tempos and intervals and serious focus - and it paid off, and I'm glad I did it.

But I'm also glad this year is different. This year is about getting in the miles needed to prepare me to cover the distance. Period. I have thrown in a few tempo-ish runs the past couple of weeks, and I was going to try to do some faster miles at the end of today's run, but I re-thought that.

I realized that I've asked an awful lot of my body these past 6 or 7 weeks, and it has thus far responded very favorably, so I think I need to be reasonable about how much further I push it, because if I try to add everything (speed AND distance) back in at once, it just might decide it's had enough and stage a little rebellion, and that's something I cannot afford right now. 

So today was a comfortable (mostly) 9:00 overall pace. There were some faster miles in there, and there were some slower miles in there, and there was a lot of wind, and there were much colder temperatures than one would expect at the end of March.

But we got it done.

As race day gets closer and closer, the marathon is in the news so much more. And the one-year anniversary of last year's race is right around the corner. And I'm finding myself tearful almost every time I think about it.

As the date gets closer and I get back to some actual training and it all seems so much more real, the stories and the reminders bring all the emotions flooding back stronger than ever. I suppose that's not surprising at all, but it has been a little tough. I find myself wondering how I'm going to hold it together when I step up to that starting line, and how I'm going to not cry just being back in the city of Boston.

I know having my friends with me will help. It will help remind me that this is, first and foremost, a celebration - of the incredible strength, spirit, and courage of runners and of the city of Boston. I think tears are inevitable, but I think they'll be a mix of both sad and happy tears.

The Boston Marathon will never be quite the same again, but I firmly believe that it will just keep getting better and better - and I can't wait to be one of the runners out there taking our marathon back.

I get goosebumps when I think about that feeling, and about being at that spot again - the finish line in sight - knowing you're about to cross it. And I'm also overcome with such tremendous sadness, thinking about what that spot turned into just a short while after I crossed it.

But at the same time, I'm filled with such a sense of hope. And that hope is what I'm going to try to concentrate on as I run those miles this year. Because that's what keeps us going, and that's what this year is all about.

35 days.