Me and The Boys

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. 

The Next Step On The Journey

I had my MRI last Monday, and after what felt like months but was actually just a few days, I got the results on Thursday. Happily, the report contained the word "normal" a whopping ten times. 

Needless to say, I was incredibly relieved. I had been feeling better since I wasn't running, but was still very nervous that there was more going on than the doctors had suspected, and I felt much better knowing that there wasn't. 

I also got the ok to try a very gradual return to running, using a run/walk protocol to really ease back into it. So of course shortly after I got home from my appointment, I changed into my running gear and headed out. 

I've completed three very short, slow run/walks since Thursday, and all have gone relatively well. I can't say that I feel 100%, and I still feel some discomfort and stiffness in my lower back and piriformis, but no pain. 

And of course it's been incredible just to be able to get out and run. But at the same time, it's been incredibly frustrating to go run/walk for 30 minutes, with a total of only 16 minutes running, and to think about how a month ago a normal midweek run was 8 or 9 miles. Part of me is still reeling from the fact that I fell so far so fast. 

I know I can't go back and change anything, and I'm trying not to dwell on it, but I'm also letting myself have those little moments of anger and frustration, because that's just where I am right now.

And acknowledging that doesn't discount the immense gratitude I have for the fact that, although it's only 16 minutes, that's way better than zero minutes. 

Trying to go back to my word for the year. Embrace. I have to embrace the good and the bad that I'm experiencing right now, because it's the only way forward, and forward is where I need to go.  

In addition to getting back to running, I also finally made it back to yoga last week, for the first time in a month. I probably could have gone sooner, but I was paranoid. Having a back injury freaked me out, and I was terrified that anything I did was going to cause debilitating and maybe even chronic pain. So I was extra cautious. But I missed yoga every bit as much as I missed running, and it felt so good just to walk into the studio. 

I had myself a good cry in savasana, and I left there feeling like a completely different person. Running again brought me most of the way back to myself, and adding in yoga brought me all the way back. I felt like me again, and I felt like a fog had been lifted. 

Which is not to say that my heart doesn't still ache a little when I read or hear something about Boston. Someone said something to me about how it was such a warm day, and going for a PR as I had planned to would have been very tough and potentially led to a huge disappointment - and I agree, but I still also feel like I would rather have had the opportunity to try and fail than to not get the chance to even try. 

So yes, the disappointment of not being able to run on Patriot's Day still stings a bit, but the sting has dulled, and I know it will continue to do so.

And right now I just need to continue to work on righting my mind and my body so that when I'm ready physically, I can start to think about starting the chase all over again.

As much as I wish I could have reached my goal in Boston a few weeks ago, I'll be the first to admit that I love the thrill of the chase and the journey it involves just as much as reaching the destination.  

Onward.  

Week 16 - Boston

It's taken me a while to get to writing this, partly because the boys were on vacation last week, so I didn't have a whole lot of free time. But also partly because I'm having a hard time even figuring out what to say about it. I have moments where I'm still just kind of astounded at how this all turned out. How I went from feeling like I was healthier and stronger than I've ever felt in my life, to spending several days barely able to walk. 

And I have moments where I want to scream and yell and hit things, because I'm so mad and frustrated that all those weeks and weeks of hard work just evaporated in an instant. And moments where I want to cry, when I think of how badly I wanted this, and how I poured my heart and soul into it for 4 months, with this ultimate goal in mind. 

But that is the risk we take as runners when we train for an endurance event. The potential for heartbreak is always out there; I've just been fortunate enough to avoid it until now. But my luck finally ran out. 

Even as I accepted that running Boston was definitely not going to happen, there was a part of me that felt really strongly that I still wanted to be there, and to be a part of it on some level. And I also felt like I wanted to go and pick up my number. Even though I wouldn't be pinning it on and wearing it, I earned it, and I hated the thought of it just sitting there unclaimed and then ending up in the trash. 

But I also knew that going to the expo and being among the throngs of excited, happy runners would be really, really tough. So I decided that I would try to turn it into a more positive experience, and invited Dante to come with me. I was pretty certain he'd have a good time, and that having him with me would make it more of a fun adventure, and distract me from some of the emotional turmoil that was swirling around in my head and heart. 

I was right on both counts. He loved going, and although I did tear up several times, it was far less difficult than it would have been if I had gone by myself. And it was great to be able to show him a glimpse of the magic that is the Boston Marathon. 

Also great to see Sarah Bowen Shea. Even though we only got to chat for a few minutes, it's always a treat to be able to see her in person : ) 

As certain as I was that I wanted to be at the expo and pick up my number, I was even more certain that I wanted to go to the race on Monday to spectate. I knew that if I stayed away, I'd regret it and spend the whole day wishing I was there. 

I took the train up and arrived at the finish line around 10am, and managed to get a pretty good spot right behind the barricades, about 200 yards before the actual finish. It was a very warm morning (close to 70 degrees at 10am!), and I admit that I did take some comfort in the fact that the PR I had trained so hard for almost definitely would not have happened in heat like that. 

I still would have rather been running, though. And I actually had a moment when I woke up that morning thinking that if I hurried, I had time to get to the buses at Boston Common and get to the starting line, and I could just run/walk the whole thing, just to get across that finish line. But sanity prevailed, and I knew that I didn't want to cross the finish line that way, and also that even if I mostly walked, traveling 26 miles by foot would be a very bad idea for my still-not-right back. 

It was amazing to be there as a spectator, though, and I was thrilled to see the elites finish, and to see the wheelchair competitors, and to catch a glimpse of Bobbi Gibb. I knew that some friends were spectating in Natick, and although it would have been fun to hang out with them for the day, I'm glad I was at the finish - that's where I really wanted to be on this day. 

There was a big screen right near where I was standing, and I cried when I saw my wave starting in Hopkinton. Not easy to see at all. 

But as the day went on, and the trickle of finishers turned into a steady stream, and then huge crowds, I got caught up in the excitement and was able to enjoy the day a little more. I chatted with the people near me, and tracked their runners with them, and cheered when we saw one of them cross the finish. 

I had planned to take a 1:30 train home, but couldn't tear myself away that early, so ended up staying until after 2pm. At that point, my back hurt, my feet hurt, and I was hungry, so I gave my spot to a young girl who was waiting for her father to come into the finish, and headed out. 

And I can sincerely say that I am so glad that I went. I know I would have been mad at myself if I had missed the opportunity to go and spectate. It was a beautiful day to be there, and although it tore at my heart, it would have torn at it even more to be sitting at home sulking. 

So now I close the chapter on Boston 2016. I hate how this story ended, and I wish I could rewrite it, and I've spent too much time going over and over it in my head, wondering if there was something I did that I shouldn't have done, or something I didn't do that I should have done. But that's wasted energy, and I know it. 

I'm doing my best to move forward, and having Boston in the rearview mirror helps a bit. But not being able to run is a big roadblock. Yes, I can work out, and I'm putting all my energy into doing the things I can do - weights, biking, elliptical, yoga (getting back to that this week) - but it's not running. And it's not what I want to be doing in this beautiful spring weather. 

When I first got injured, I thought that maybe it would be a quick recovery and even if I couldn't run Boston, I could bounce back in time to capitalize on my marathon training and turn it into some fast, shorter-distance spring and summer races. 

But now that I seem to be in it for the long haul, I'm not even allowing myself to think about that. I just don't know where I am, and what I'll be able to do, and if I'll even be able to run a mile anytime soon. 

It's frustrating, and depressing, and I'm angry. I have days where I just roll with it and I feel ok, and other days where I get really down. Thank god I have an understanding husband and family. 

I went for an MRI yesterday to try to get some more answers. The diagnosis up to this point has been SI joint dysfunction, but I want more clarity and more concrete information. I'm absolutely terrified that I'm going to get bad news, but somehow even bad news will be better than being in limbo and not being entirely sure what's wrong and when it will be better. 

So for now, I wait. And I do what I can. And I continue to try to put all this behind me and move forward, one step at a time. 

Week 15 - Letting Go

I truly believe that the struggles you face as an athlete are just as - if not more - defining than your successes. And this struggle has proven more difficult than any others I've faced, and I've spent most of the past week thinking about why. I had plenty of time to ponder it, as I wasn't running or working out at all. 

Some of the added difficulty has to do with the timing. I tried to look at the bright side when I was first injured, and reasoned that it was better to get hurt now, when I was only missing taper runs, which are inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. But two weeks later, the bright side wasn't looking so bright.

Missing taper runs is the ideal situation, if you have to miss some of your marathon training. But coming so unbelievably close to race day, only to have it snatched out from under you, hurts far worse than having something like this happen earlier on in the training cycle. 

I was right there. I was on the verge of finishing my last 20-miler, and feeling better and healthier and stronger than I've ever felt. Aside from the hip flexor issue that delayed the beginning of my training slightly, I hadn't felt a single unusual ache or pain over the past 13 weeks. 

And my training had gone great. Every workout left me feeling stronger than the previous one. I was ready. So ready. 

And now I have a hard time remembering what that even felt like, even though it was just a couple of weeks ago.

Another thing that made this injury so much more challenging is that I spent much of last week still experiencing pain just walking around. Not enough to keep me bedridden, but enough to keep me in a constant state of discomfort. And enough to make me feel like a 90-year-old woman, as I struggled just to keep up with the kids as we walked together. That feeling was unlike any injury I've experienced before - usually I'm sidelined with some kind of tendinitis that keeps me from running, but doesn't hurt on a daily basis. 

Feeling like an invalid, combined with the timing of the injury, combined with the fact that Scott was in the midst of a 12-day business trip, combined with the fact that I tried to run Wednesday morning, only to have to stop half a mile in due to excruciating back pain, made for a nearly insurmountable dark cloud that settled over me about halfway through the week.

Not only did my back hurt when I tried to run on Wednesday, but my hips and pelvis literally felt completely out of alignment, like none of the joints were in their sockets correctly - it was a freaky feeling, and I was scared.  And that's when it all came crashing down, and my mind went to a very dark place. 

I was convinced that I was never going to run again. I decided I'd be ok with just not working out at all. I was afraid to do anything, for fear of further aggravating my back, and I can't say I enjoyed not working out, but even over the course of just two weeks, it became the new normal. 

After that failed run, I let go of Boston. I knew that if I couldn't make it half a mile, there was no way I was going to make it 26 miles two weeks later. Sure, miracles happen, but you can't plan for miracles, and as much as I believe in the power of positive thinking, you also have to approach something like this with a healthy dose of realism. And the pain I felt during that test run was very real. 

Somehow I felt better finally reaching that conclusion, though - at least for a little while, I did. And then a little while later, I had a good cry. Repeat that cycle over and over, and that's how the end of the week played out for me. I described it to someone as emotional whiplash, and that's the most apt description I can come up with. 

The one bright spot was that I felt well enough Friday to try some cross-training, so I got on the elliptical at the gym, and it felt really good to work up a sweat, and it didn't aggravate my back at all. I didn't immediately feel better, but later in the afternoon, my mood had lifted a bit - and Scott coming home from his trip Friday night helped tremendously, too. 

I was also feeling significantly better physically at this point - I finally felt like I could go about my normal daily activities without feeling any discomfort or sensitivity in my back. That was a huge turning point. Not being constantly in pain eased a lot of the stress and anxiety that had become a fact of life over the past two weeks. 

Since I knew I could now cross-train safely, I abandoned my plan from earlier in the week to just convert to a sedentary lifestyle (we all knew that wasn't really going to happen!), and was at the gym when they opened Saturday morning. After a while on the elliptical, I figured I'd give a run on the treadmill a try - being able to just hop off the treadmill would make it easier to call it quits if I started hurting. 

And while I can't say I had a pain-free run, it was definitely a huge improvement from the Wednesday attempt. So much better that I actually made it 3 miles! There was some discomfort, but not from my back. What I felt this time around was tightness through my piriformis and glute - which is definitely related to the SI joint issue, but which feels far less scary and debilitating than a back injury. 

The same held true with my 4-mile run this morning - no back pain, but very tight piriformis. But this morning's run was way better because I got to run outside with my friends : ) 

I'll continue with my chiropractor and PT visits this week, and I also have an acupuncture appointment, and may have more of those in the future, as well.

I'm going to continue doing absolutely everything I can to fix this and get back to running regularly, because just that little taste of it this weekend made me feel like me again, and I need more of that. And I'm also going to put my energy into cross-training as much as possible, so that my return to running is as smooth as possible. 

So progress is finally being made, and being able to work out and even run a few miles has caused a very dramatic shift in my mood.

I'm still very disappointed at the thought of missing Boston, but if I can at least be staying in shape and logging some miles, that disappointment will be a little easier to process. 

And as I think about it, it's less about being at Boston than it is about the run itself. What makes me the most mad about all of this is that I was so well-trained, and that I came so tantalizingly close to putting that training to the test - a test I was almost 100% certain I was going to pass with flying colors. 

So many things can wreak havoc with your training cycle, but mine had gone by largely unscathed.

That PR was mine for the taking, and getting it in Boston would have just been the icing on the cake. 

But it can - and will - happen somewhere else. I'll certainly shed more tears over missing this opportunity, and Monday is not going to be an easy day for me. But this is one of the risks you take when you sign up and train for a long-distance race that requires months of training. I've been fortunate enough to never have to bow out of a full marathon, but my luck ran out. 

Running teaches us to keep moving forward, one step at a time, even in the most painful moments. 

I had my two weeks of self-pity and inertia and feeling utterly lost, and I don't regret that I allowed myself that time - I think it was part of what I needed to do to process all of this. 

But now it's time to start moving forward again, and that 3 miles I ran yesterday was the first step on that path.

I'm looking forward to taking many more steps, and can't wait to see where they lead. 

Week 11 - Counting Down the Days Til Taper

It's been over a year since I was at this point in marathon training, but now that I'm here, I remember it so well. I'm tired. I'm ready to be done with training and just run the race already. I'm ready for taper to begin. 

That's not to say that I'm not getting excited, because I am, but I'm also very much looking forward to starting to wind down this whole training thing. Sixteen weeks is a long time, and I'm happy to be getting really close to finishing it up. 

I think part of the reason I feel that way is also due to the fact that this was probably my biggest training week yet. A total of almost 51 miles, including a speed workout, a 7-mile tempo run, and a 20-miler with a total of 10 miles at goal pace. 

The good news, though, is that all went well!

The speedwork was a series of 5 x 800/400 repeats, with a 200 rest interval in between each, and then a 400 rest interval in between each set. I ran the 800s at 3:15, and the 400s at 1:34. A challenging workout, but I felt very accomplished walking off that track. 

Spring weather arrived in full force last week, and when I ran Thursday, it was actually a very warm 63 degrees. For the first few miles, it felt lovely. But when my 2-mile warmup was done and I started picking up the pace for my tempo miles, it wasn't so lovely anymore. 

I know I've been extremely lucky and have had a relatively mild winter for training, but most of my runs have been in temperatures in the 20s, 30s, and 40s, so jumping up to temps in the 60s was a bit of a shock to the system, and by the time I ran those final two tempo miles, I was dying, and I fought for every step. 

I still got my tempo pace, though, with an average of 7:14 for the 7 miles (even managed 7:06 for the final mile), so it was a tough one, but it was a success. Friday's easy-paced run was very welcome, though. 

Saturday Dante and I ran a 5K together, and I am so glad that he wanted to run it, because if I had run it by myself I would have had a hard time not racing it, and I knew racing a 5K would have been a bad idea the day before I had a tough 20-miler planned - especially this 5K in particular, which features a very big downhill at the start, which you have to run back up at the finish. 

With the downhill start, we went out way too fast, running the first mile in 9:13. Once we hit the flat part of the course, though, we slowed down and took a few walk breaks, too. I was following his lead, and letting him stop and walk when he needed to, but there were a few times where I encouraged him to start running again, because I sensed that he'd just mosey along for half a mile if I let him. 

It's a fine line between not pushing him so hard that he thinks running isn't fun, but also not letting him quit just because he's a little tired. This is the sixth 5K I've run with him, so I'm getting a good sense of when to push him and when to back off, and I think I struck just the right balance with this one. 

The second mile was pretty slow - that 9:13 caught up with him - and took us 11:25. As we passed the 2-mile mark and headed back toward the hill, I reminded him several times to not go too fast, because we needed to save our energy for that climb. And I'm glad I did, because we ended up running the 3rd mile faster than the second one, despite having to tackle the huge hill.

We stopped and walked twice, but ran way more of the hill than I thought he'd be able to. I was so proud of him. Mile 3 in 11:14. And he saved enough to run the final .1 at 8:35 pace. His final time was 33:05, for a 10:32 average pace - an incredible accomplishment on such a tough course, and also considering that he hasn't run a 5K in nearly a year!  So happy to have run another race together :-) 

Sunday's 20-miler was looming large, though. The plan was to run 5 easy, 5 at goal marathon pace, 5 easy, and 5 more at goal pace. I felt pretty sure I could do it, but I was still a little nervous. 

I had the weather in my favor, though - low 50s and dry, and not too windy. Couldn't ask for much better. I worked really hard to hold back for the first 5 miles - I wanted to be sure to save my energy for the goal pace miles, and also wanted to practice not going out too fast. Most of the first 5 miles came in around 8:30, so I think I was successful. 

I stopped at a convenience store for a bathroom break at mile 5, and the song "Call Me Maybe" was playing in the store, so I had that song stuck in my head for the next 15 miles. That was probably the most difficult part of the run. Seriously. That was a whole different kind of mental training. 

Picking up to marathon pace for the next 5 miles went pretty smoothly. I felt good at that pace, and actually had to slow myself down quite a few times. But overall I did well staying in the right pace range - just a little too fast the last couple of miles - 7:53, 7:49, 7:43, 7:42, 7:40. 

It was nice to drop back down to an easy pace for the next 5, but after having run faster the previous 5, I had a hard time slowing back down to 8:30s, and ended up running these miles around 8:10 pace. Not too fast, but probably a little faster than they should have been.

I saw a bunch of friends out running during this stretch, which is always nice. I've been fine with running my long runs solo, and I really believe it's a good thing for me to do, but seeing them out there and saying hi definitely lifted my spirits for a few miles.

At mile 14 I had to stop and refill my water, and I was starting to get tired, and not really looking forward to those last 5 miles at goal pace. But I knew I just had to get it done, and I tried to remember how smooth and comfortable the first 5 at goal pace had felt. 

Miles 16 and 17 were almost that smooth and comfortable - 7:47 and 7:46 - and I was surprised at how good I felt, even though this is the point at which I start to hit the hills heading back toward home. 

Mile 18 felt a little less smooth and not at all comfortable, thanks to the hills, and thanks to the fact that I ran it in 7:35 instead of 7:50. At that point, though, I just wanted to get it done, and I decided that a little faster than goal pace was ok, because it would get me home that much sooner. 

Miles 19 and 20 were kind of a blur. The hills in mile 19 are not big ones, but it's a series of rollers that feel like absolute mountains when you're at mile 19 of a 20-miler and running a 7:36 pace. 

And mile 20 features a short but very steep hill that I absolutely hate. It's not the biggest one on this route, but it's the steepest one, and I do much better with long, gradual inclines, so this short, steep one always kills me. I was determined to finish strong, though, and even with that hill, I completed mile 20 in 7:32. 

Downhill start, uphill finish - my Boston training route. 

 

Total time for the 20 miles was 2:41, for an overall 8:03 pace.  A tough effort, but a pretty well-executed effort, I think. And it felt great to know that I only have one more 20-miler left in this training cycle. 

I'm getting excited now that race day is getting closer, but I'm also tired, and really ready for taper to begin. 

 

As part of my race prep, I've been reviewing my splits from 2013, and re-read my race recap from that day, also. It's a tough one to read, but it reminds me of why Boston has such a huge place in my heart, and why I'm so honored to be going back again.

The journey to get there is sometimes discouraging, sometimes frustrating, and often exhausting - but it's so, so worth it. 

Week 10 - Now It's Starting To Seem Real

When you start closing in on six weeks to go, everything starts to seem a little more real. Because really, there's only 4 more weeks of work, and then the two weeks of taper, which seem to pass in the blink of an eye. Already time seems to be speeding up, and hitting the halfway point seems like it was eons ago, when it was only 2 weeks ago. 

I can't say it's all downhill from here, though, because I do still have a lot of work to cram into those 4 weeks. This week wasn't one of the tougher ones, though. I had one speed workout, but the rest of the week was easy runs, which is exactly what I needed. 

Normally I'd do speedwork on Tuesday, but since I did my long run on Saturday last week, and I woke up Monday morning feeling ready to take on the track, I figured I should go with it and take advantage of the fact that I felt motivated and just get it done. 

Despite the motivation to get the workout done, I was still totally nervous and anxious a bout how it was going to go. But it was a beautiful morning, so I headed to the track - first time I've done a track workout on the track in a long time. All my recent workouts have been on the road, on the bike path, or on the treadmill. In a way, it felt kind of nice to be back on the actual track. 

The plan was a very straightforward ladder - 1600, 1200, 1000, 800, 600, 400, 200. My first 1600 came in at 6:35, and felt surprisingly good. I knew that feeling wouldn't last. 

It was a very windy morning, but lucky for me, the wind was really only a factor when heading around the curve at one end of the track, so it was only in my face for a short section of each lap, so really didn't phase me at all. 

The rest of the intervals all came in at or below my goal time, so I was very happy with the way the workout was going. But when I finished the 200, I felt like I hadn't done enough. So I decided to see what I could pull off for one more 1600. Surprisingly, I had another 6:35 in me! And after that, I definitely felt like I had done enough, and had done it very well, and walked off the track completely content. 

The rest of my runs last week were at an easy pace, which seems to be averaging out to between 8:15 and 8:35 these days. Not much to write about those, except to say that I really enjoyed just going out and running. I even listened to music on one of my runs, which is something I haven't done in ages, but it was kind of a nice change, and just a good way to mix things up a little. 

The long run for Saturday was the shortest one I've had in a while - 14 miles. And as I finished up, I felt like I should add on a few more miles. But I reminded myself that the cutback weeks are just as important as the weeks where you work really hard. So 14 it was - followed by a super easy 5 miles on Sunday. 

Total of 45 miles for the week, and definitely a good week. 

And looking forward to the week ahead, I think tights and gloves and hats are going to be replaced with shorts and short sleeves, as temperatures are supposed to be in the 50s (maybe even 60s) for the foreseeable future. 

Being able to head out without bundling up in 2 or 3 layers is going to feel like a real treat. And even the wind will feel a little less awful than it does on those 30-degree days. 

All of the sudden, it's feeling like the past 10 weeks have flown by, and like I'm going to blink and I'll be standing at the starting line in Hopkinton. That's a good thing, though - being inside 6 weeks makes everything really start to come into focus, which helps with the mental game, and also helps you remember why you're doing this in the first place. 

I can't wait to test my patience and reign in my pace on the downhills in the early miles; to laugh in amazement at how loud the Wellesley scream tunnel is; to power through the hills of Newton; to breathe a sigh of relief when I crest Heartbreak Hill; to feel that rush of excitement as I start to head back into the city; to soak up the energy of the crowd for the entire 26.2 miles; and to make that final turn (likely with tears in my eyes) onto Boylston. 

I always tell people there's nothing quite like the Boston Marathon, and there really isn't. I'm so lucky I get to experience it again :-) 

Week 9 - When The Going Gets Tough...

The first few weeks of marathon training are so exciting, and were especially exciting for me this time, since I had taken an entire year off from training for a race. I did a few races last year, but nothing that I had an actual training schedule for, and nothing longer than a half marathon. So diving back into a long training schedule felt great! 

Then I got to the halfway point last week, and I finished it up with a great 20-mile run, and then I crashed. I crashed spectacularly hard. 

After that 20-miler, I was hit with a wall of fatigue that I haven't felt in a long time. Thankfully, Scott took the boys out for the afternoon so I could park myself on the couch and do a whole lot of nothing. 

I hoped I'd bounce back after my afternoon of rest, but I really didn't - not for several days, anyway. And it wasn't even just the exhaustion - I felt like I was in a fog; and I also felt extraordinarily crabby and short-tempered with everyone.

Everything was making me mad, and nothing was making me happy. I'm tempted to blame some of it on hormonal wackiness, and I also felt like I was fighting off a cold, and I also was just plain tired. It felt like kind of a perfect storm of bad-mood-inducing crap, and nothing I did (yoga, meditating, running) could help me shake it. 

But I had a plan to follow, and Tuesday, it called for a tempo run - 10 miles total, with 7 at tempo pace. It seemed a little daunting (as everything last week did), but I've been doing 6 at tempo pretty regularly, so I thought I'd be ok. I thought wrong.

It was a struggle almost from the first step. I did ok with the first couple fast miles - 7:18 and 7:29, and then even got down to a 7:14 and 7:12. Then I found myself turning onto Ocean Road to head north along the water, and I was already feeling tired, and as soon as I turned the corner, I ran headfirst into a wall of wind. 

And that is the point at which I immediately stopped running. And I'm not exaggerating - I stood there on the side of the road almost crying. I just wanted no part of any of it. I was done with this run, I was done with training, I was done fighting the wind, I was done with everything. I was ready to wave the white flag. 

Except for the minor problem that I was still a good 6 miles from my car. So calling it quits entirely wasn't really an option. After a few minutes of walking, I gathered myself as much as I could and figured I'd just start running, and if I could muster a 7:30, I'd see if I could salvage the tempo. 

So I dove into the wind and ran - 7:27 at first, then a 7:24. Not a true tempo pace for me, but given how crappy I was feeling, and how tough the headwind was, I was fine with it, and figured that if I could do that, I could maybe try to push it a little harder. I knew that once I got through the 6th mile, I'd be taking a turn and would be out of the wind, so I told myself to just hang on through that mile, and I got it done in 7:18. And without the wind, mile 7 was a 7:02. 

Despite the struggles, the tempo portion of the run averaged out to 7:18. Slightly slower than my other tempos have been, but with everything I had working against me (namely my brain, and the wind), I was very pleased. 

I was also still exhausted. And still feeling generally like crap. So much so that during my 9-mile run on Thursday, I was barely able to maintain an 8:50 pace. Even at that pace, I found myself stopping and walking a few times. It was demoralizing and depressing, and I was so discouraged after that run. 

I considered taking Friday off, but I felt better when I woke up, so figured I'd give it a shot. Thankfully, it went well - 7 miles at an average 8:00 pace, and I felt good the whole time. Such a huge relief. 

As the day went on, the fatigue and fog lifted, too, and I felt like I was coming back to myself. Getting back to my regular Friday yoga class helped, too. I've had to miss it the past two weeks, and although I've taken a few other classes with different instructors, they just weren't the same. 

Saturday was long-run day, and it was uneventful, which is a good thing! Eighteen miles total, and I did a pretty decent job starting slower and finishing fast. The best part, though, was that I wasn't completely crushed afterward.

Whatever came crashing down on me after last Sunday's run has definitely lifted, and I'm glad it did, because it was not a great week. 

But at least it finished on a good note. 

And even though it was a rough week, it was still a full week of training, and another full week getting me closer to race day, so I'll take it.  And better to get the bad runs and the bad weeks out of the way now, so that hopefully all the good will be left for April 18.  

Week 7 - Making Friends With the Treadmill

This week was more like how I remember my Boston 2013 training - snow on the ground that melts a bit during the day, then refreezes at night, making early-morning running in the dark a little tricky. So I got a little bit more acquainted with the YMCA treadmills this week. It's not my favorite way to run, but it's better than not running at all, so I'll take it. 

Tuesday was speedwork. Five one-mile repeats, and as I completed each one, I fought a little battle with myself over whether I was going to do all 5 or not. I mean, I knew that I'd do all 5, because I knew I'd hate myself if I didn't, but I still had to talk myself into it after every rest interval. 

Although I almost never listen to music when I run, the treadmill is the one place I do usually have my earbuds in, because it is pretty painfully boring without any kind of distraction. And for most of the workout, the music was nice.

But as I was getting through the final repeat, I was working really hard, and I realized that the music was actually making it harder. I didn't want to be distracted - I needed to be in my own head and focused on what I had to do. And as soon as I pulled out the headphones, I felt better. It was still incredibly hard finishing up that final mile, but mentally I felt better. Silence is golden, I guess. 

Thursday was a 10-mile progression run, and I was glad to be able to do that one outside. I started with the first mile at 8:17, then dropped down steadily from there - 8:05, 800, 7:52, 7:42, 7:49, 7:49, 7:51, 7:31, 7:22. It was a good run, except for the crazy headwind I ran into at mile 9; just as I was dropping down from 7:51 to 7:31. Not fun. As I struggled running directly into the wind for nearly a mile, I found myself looking forward to the uphill I knew I'd face in mile 10. That's how bad the wind was. 

After those two workouts, Friday's easy 8 miles was very welcome, even though it was on the treadmill. 

As we headed toward the weekend, it became very clear that the weekend's weather was going to be cold. Really, really cold. Record-breaking cold. 

Saturday seemed like it would be slightly less frigid than Sunday, so I made Saturday plans with some friends from the club, and I'm so glad we got our run done when we did. It actually ended up being a really nice morning. Temps were cold - right around 20, I think - but for most of the run, it wasn't all that windy, and the sun was shining, so it felt really nice. The wind started to kick in and the temperatures started to drop during our final mile, so we finished at the perfect time. 

We took a little out-and-back detour down to a really nice spot along the river, and stopped for a photo before heading back. It was a great run, and a mostly easy pace that felt good, except for the last few miles, when my legs started to feel really tired. We also picked up the pace a bit those last few miles, too, so I think that explains the tired legs. 

Overall we finished 16 miles at an 8:23 average pace, though, which I feel great about. 

And when I woke up to this temperature Sunday morning, I felt even better, knowing that I didn't have to go out and run in it!  

Some cross-training, weights, and yoga rounded out the week, and I ended with 43 miles total. Hip and piriformis are feeling good, but I'm glad I checked in at PT on Friday. A little tune-up felt like a good idea, and the right thing to do to keep me on track. 

Hard to believe that I'm almost halfway through this training already. Despite the brutal winter weather we just had, I feel like Spring and Hopkinton are just around the corner. 

Seven weeks down, nine to go! 

Week 6 - Embrace

I read this one day last week, and it really resonated with me. I liked the idea, and I wanted to choose my word. A bunch of words came and went over the course of a couple of days, but none of them stuck. Then, during the beginning of my Wednesday yoga class, as class was just getting started and my eyes were closing and I was settling in, the word jumped out at me. I could see it, as if someone were holding up a sign in front of me. Embrace.

Obviously I know what the word embrace means, but I looked it up anyway, just to have that concrete, specific definition in my head - "welcome with open arms, accept, take up, take to one's heart." That was it. That was my word. 

I'm still not 100% certain how that word is going to play out over the course of the next 10 months, but it feels right, so I'm going to just keep it there and let it roll around in my head a bit, and I feel confident that I'll figure it out. 

One way it's already come into play is with the weather. After an unseasonably warm December and January, winter has finally hit, and the boys are currently enjoying a 4-day weekend, courtesy of a snowstorm Friday and one again today. Last year I dreaded the snow, and the snow days, and everything the least bit wintery. And I can't say that I've gone as far as enjoying it this year, but I'm doing a much better job accepting it. And working on embracing it. 

You can't deny that it's beautiful, and taking the time to look around and appreciate the snowy landscape is helping me a lot. 

Watching the boys revel in the snow helps, too. They're thrilled that we're finally having a real winter, and are out in the yard playing in the snow every chance they get. I've even made peace with the drying rack that has now taken up residence in my living room, covered with snow pants and mittens and hats. It's New England, it's February, and I can't change the weather, so I might as well make the most of it. 

Snowy/icy roads have forced me indoors on the treadmill a few times, including a 9-miler this past Friday, but thus far I've been able to do all my long runs outside, thankfully. I've gone as far as 13 on the treadmill in the past, and I don't really have any interest in besting that record. 

The only real workout I had this week was my Tuesday run, which was 10 miles total, with 7 of them at half-marathon pace. My goal for the HM pace miles was a 7:30, and I ended up running most of them around 7:20 or 7:24, so it was a great run. Thursday was 8 miles easy with a friend, and then the 9 on the treadmill pre-snowstorm, early Friday morning. 

Sunday's plan was 20 miles at an easy, long-run pace, and I figured I'd run most of it around 8:30, and then try to pick it up a bit in the final 5 miles. I wasn't really all that nervous about it, since there were no specific pace goals in mind. And the weather was supposed to be really nice on Sunday, so it all should have gone well. 

But then I woke up Sunday around 1am and couldn't get back to sleep. I tossed and turned, watched some TV, and slept a few very restless hours on the couch before finally getting up around 6am. I was tired, I was crabby, and the last thing in the world I wanted to do was go for a run, never mind a 20-mile run. 

It's been a long time since I've not wanted to run. That's not a feeling I experience often, but there it was. But instead of fighting it, I embraced it. But embracing that feeling didn't mean I was going to get out of doing the run, because I knew that skipping or shortening it would feel so much worse than just sucking it up and getting it done.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day, and I tried to get my head in a happier place as I set out, so that I could appreciate how lucky I was to be able to be out there. I had moments where I glimpsed that positivity, but they were fleeting.

It was just one of those runs. There was no real joy, no runner's high, no feeling of elation. It was all business, all work. It was a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, over and over and over and over again. So that's what I did.

It wasn't the worst run I've ever had, but it certainly wasn't the best. And the last 5 miles were not pretty. I usually take three Gu for a 20-mile run (at 5, 10, and 15 miles), but I couldn't stomach the thought of eating the third one this time, so I completed the whole 20 miles on just 2 Gu packets, which really isn't a lot, and I probably would have had a little more pep in the last 5 miles if I had forced down the 3rd one, but I just couldn't do it. So the last 5 miles were really rough, and I was so thrilled to finally see that Garmin beep the 20-mile mark. 

I wasn't paying very close attention to my Garmin as I ran, so I was a little surprised when I finished and saw that I had an average pace of 8:08. No negative splits, but still a great overall pace, considering how unmotivated I was and how tired I felt.

That made me feel a little better about the whole thing. And when I thought about it more, I realized that wanting to run zero miles and convincing yourself to go out and run 20 miles is a huge win. Not to mention a serious exercise in mental toughness.

The tough runs are the ones that make you stronger. And on race day, I'll recall all the workouts that went well, but I'll also recall the ones that didn't go well. The ones where I struggled, but pushed through. They can't all be good ones, and even the bad ones serve a purpose - a really important purpose, I think. 

So I can't really say the week ended on a bad note, because it wasn't a bad run - just a challenging one. And challenges are a good thing. 

And one more thing that I have to note, because it makes me incredibly happy to have hit this number and be feeling so amazingly good - total weekly mileage - 47!  

Stretching, yoga, strength training, core work, hip strengthening, foam rolling = happy, healthy, strong runner who can't wait to run 26.2 for the 7th time! 

10 weeks to go.