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 

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. 

Shortest Year-End Post Ever - Too Busy Looking Ahead

I usually do a year in review post, but I'm not feeling inspired to do it this year. I started the year not running, progressed to barely running, ran some crappy races, a couple decent races, didn't race an awful lot, enjoyed a lot of runs with my friends, saw a lot of spectacular sunrises, and closed out the year with my best race in a long, long time. 

All in all, I only ran 7 races - the least I've run in quite a while. And I truly believe that's what my body and my mind needed this year - a break. Ever since I began dreaming of a BQ back in 2011, I've been racing like a maniac. I don't regret it for a minute, and I had a fantastic few years, with lots of PRs, lots of full and half marathons, and lots of success at so many distances. 

But my heart was definitely not in it this year. I didn't have the drive, the passion, the determination - frankly, I just didn't have much interest in pushing myself way out of my comfort zone and testing my limits. I was happy just to run. And I did plenty of that, with a total of nearly 1,300 miles for the year. 

It was really nice to have an entire year off from marathon training, especially since I did two marathons last year. It was liberating and freeing - and although there were times I found myself a tiny bit jealous of friends who were training, for the most part I was happy not being a slave to a training program. 

Submitting my Boston registration in September did get me a little more excited about the prospect of getting back to training, and I was really looking forward to kicking things off in late December, but a little hip flexor and piriformis issue threw a bit of a wrench into those plans. 

I took two weeks off, which was really not that big a deal, since I had written myself an 18-week plan, knowing that 16 weeks is really sufficient, so the extra two weeks would give me some wiggle room. I wish I hadn't had to use it right off the bat, but at least it was there! 

So the first full week of training was two weeks ago, and thankfully had no planned speedwork. I got in all the miles, including a 16-miler, and was shocked at how good I felt afterward - not 100%, but far, far better than I thought I'd feel, especially since I had run a 10-miler the day before that.

Week two went well also, and aside from replacing a track workout with an easy run, I got all the miles in, and even capped off the week with a race worked into my long run. I had 13 miles planned, and there was a 4.8-mile race in Little Compton on Saturday that I've always been curious about, and I knew some other members of the running club would be there, so I figured I'd run some miles beforehand, jump into the race, and finish my long run with company. 

I had no plans whatsoever for how I'd run the race miles. I thought I'd probably hold a tempo-ish pace of 7:30, and would have been happy with that. I was able to get in 7.5 miles before the race, most of them around an 8:15 pace, and was feeling great when I got to the starting line. It was a beautiful area to run, and I was looking forward to a few more miles. 

I wore long sleeves and capris for the early miles, but after dashing in to register and get my number, I made a quick stop at the car to change into shorts and my club singlet and arm warmers -  temps were in the mid-40s, and that outfit ended up being the perfect choice. I wasn't too hot or too cold - ideal running conditions. 

The course was really nice - mostly flat, with just some very minor inclines; quiet; and scenic. I settled in pretty quickly to a pace in the low 7s, and still really wasn't giving much thought to a plan of any sort. A friend from the club was running just ahead of me, and we're somewhat evenly matched, pace-wise, so I figured I'd keep her in my sights. The only wild card was that I had already run almost 8 miles, so I wasn't sure if I'd be able to match her pace the whole time. But I thought it was worth trying. 

I closed the gap between the two of us right around mile 2.5, I think, and stayed pretty much right on her heels for the rest of the race. There was a few minutes around mile 3 where I felt like I could pull ahead, but I reminded myself of the 7.5 miles I had run previously, and reminded myself that I was already running plenty fast, and wasn't even there to really race, and I just wanted to finish up my long run. 

So I held back where I was, and ended up crossing the finish line 8 seconds behind her. Of course, just as we crossed the finish line I heard the announcer call us out as the third and fourth females, and when awards were given out, I found out that the prize for 3rd place female was $50. If I had known I had a shot at raking in some cash, I might have kicked it in at the finish :-) 

I did place 2nd in my age group, though, and my prize was a really cool glass medal made by a local artist. I love getting unique prizes like that - so much more memorable than a regular medal or plaque. 

In the end, I ran 13 miles with an overall 7:56 pace - a very solid effort for only my second run of this training plan. My splits for the race part of it were 7:15, 7:12, 7:10, 7:29, 7:16.  Final time - 35:15; 7:20 pace, 2nd place age group, 4th female overall, 26/165 finishers. 

The best part of the whole day, though, was that even with the increased effort in the final miles of the 13, my hip felt great. It was a little sore later in the afternoon, but I spent plenty of time stretching and foam rolling, and it was back to feeling good on Sunday. 

So I'm going to continue to move ahead with training as planned, and will give the speedwork another try tomorrow. When I tried it last week, my hip was not happy with me, but I'm hoping that this week it will work out. But if it doesn't, I'll just run easy again and log the miles I need to log. 

I had told myself a few weeks ago that if I wasn't able to really train all-out and go for the PR I'm aiming for in Boston, that I'd skip it and run a fall marathon instead. But now I'm sort of backtracking on that. Because, well, it's Boston. And Boston has a piece of my heart. 

I'm hopeful that I can still go after that PR, but as long as I'm healthy enough to complete the necessary mileage to run a respectable 26.2 miles in April, I'm going to go for it. 

I'm allowing myself to get a little excited about it now, too, which I had kind of stopped myself from doing before, just because I wasn't certain if it was going to happen or not. And as much as I dread the torture of a speed workout, there's a little part of me that's almost looking forward to it. Maybe not the workout itself, but the feeling of accomplishment afterward. 

I still have a long road ahead of me, and I'm determined to take it one week, one run, and one step at a time. Hopefully it will end up where I'm thinking it will, but regardless, I know it'll end where it's meant to. 

Another thing I'm determined to do this time around is remain committed to truly recovering from my runs. I am very guilty of skimping on stretching and foam rolling, and I pay for it. Focusing more on that these past two weeks has made a huge difference, as has my now regular yoga practice. I initially told myself that I wanted to be sure to take one yoga class a week, but now have become completely hooked, and crave my time on the mat almost as much as I crave running. 

There are two classes at my local yoga studio that are my absolute favorite, and I've been going to both every week without fail. I had to miss the Wednesday class one week, and was so disappointed. I wish I could go even more, but the time and the expense present some challenges beyond the twice-weekly classes, so I'm supplementing with doing some shorter sessions at home using online video classes.

It's not the same, but it works in a pinch, and I've learned that much like running, something is better than nothing. A 20-minute session at home doesn't leave me feeling quite as blissed out as my 90-minute classes in the studio, but it does leave me feeling calmer and more centered, and gives me a little bit of a reset. So I've tried to get better at fitting in those shorter sessions at home whenever I can, to get me through to the next time I can get into the studio and get my real fix : ) 

I notice so many changes in myself, physically and mentally, and I love what yoga is bringing to my life. I saw a great quote the other day that sums it up so well:  "Yoga is the journey of the self through the self to the self." 

Running has taught me so much about myself, and yoga is teaching me things that running couldn't. They complement each other so nicely, and I'm glad I've finally realized that. 

Eight Years and 24 Half-Marathons Later - Back to Hartford For 13.1 Again

I posted on Facebook the other day that I had run Hartford as my first half marathon back in 2009, but I was wrong - it was actually 2007! I had planned on running the full that year, but got injured and was barely able to train for the half, and finished in 2:14. That seems like eons ago, and a lot has changed in those 8 years (and I've run 24 half marathons in the course of those 8 years, making this my 25th!). 

What hasn't changed is that HMF puts on fantastic races, which is why I went back and ran the full in 2011. It wasn't my first full, but it did become my first Boston Qualifier. So Hartford definitely has some significance for me, and I was excited to go back and run the half this year. And really - what's not to love about finishing under this arch? 

Due to there not being packet pickup on race morning, I opted to spend Friday night in town, which was great, because I was able to see Dimity and Denise from the Run Like a Mother crew at the expo Friday afternoon. 

The weather Friday night was rainy, and actually kind of warm and humid, but the weather forecast was calling for cool and dry temperatures Saturday morning, so I just hoped they were right. 

I took advantage of having a hotel room all to myself and had a nice, quiet, relaxing night, and got to bed relatively early, which was good, because I woke up at 5am - well before my alarm went off. According to the news and my weather app on my phone, the cool, dry air had rolled in, and the temperature was right around 50 degrees. And it looked like the sun would be coming out, but not warming things up much above 60 degrees. In a word - perfection. 

I definitely had some pre-race jitters, but I was mostly really excited and couldn't wait to get out there and run. Even though I knew that I was only running the half today, my mind kept going back to the incredible bundle of nerves that I was when I ran the full 4 years ago. My goal that day (BQ) was something that had once seemed so unbelievably out of reach, so to actually be there attempting it that day was almost surreal - and those feelings kept washing over me Saturday morning. 

I'm glad they did, though, because as much as it put me in that jittery frame of mind, it was also a reminder for me of how much I accomplished when I got that BQ, and how much I accomplished when I ran two more marathons after that, each time faster than the previous. It reminded me of how many obstacles I've overcome, how much I've learned and grown as a runner, and how much running has brought to my life. 

I knew being back there would call up all those memories, and it made me smile as I made my way through the city and over to the start. Race morning always makes me really emotional, and this race morning just had a little extra dose of that. 

And here's where I bow my head in shame and confess that as I stood near the starting line, soaking up the whole scene (I love watching everyone milling around and going through their pre-race rituals), the DJ blasted the song "More Than a Feeling." Yes - total cheeseball 80s rock anthem that I would never in a million years choose to listen to.

But when that song came blaring out of the speakers, with the sun rising behind the city skyline, it totally got to me. And I have since downloaded it to my iPhone. We all have our guilty pleasures, and I guess cheesy rock anthems are one of mine. (Yes, I have "Don't Stop Believin'" on there, too). 

So after my moment of 80s-rock-inspired zen, I made my way to the actual start, and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't all that crowded. I was able to find a spot right up between the 7:00 and 8:00 pace signs. 

I was hoping to run a 1:41, which would have been about a 7:42 pace. I felt like that was a very reasonable goal, given my 1:42 finish in Surftown last month and the 7:07 pace I ran for the Zooma 10K. 

As they made the announcements, the corral became much more crowded, and I was just so ready to start running, and was so relieved when the gun finally sounded and we were off. 

I had looked at the course elevation a few days earlier, and knew there were some hills, but they didn't look too terrible, so I wasn't all that concerned. Just kept it in the back of my mind that it was not going to be a flat course. 

All I could think as we started out was how amazingly perfect the weather is. The thought kept running through my mind that this was PR weather, and I really needed to take advantage. I didn't have a firm pacing goal in mind, but of course had wanted to start slow. And of course I didn't. Mile 1 - 7:30, mile 2 - 7:33, mile 3 - 7:32. 

So I hit that 3-mile mark, and there was a timing clock, and I saw those big red numbers at just over 23 minutes, and I thought "Hmmmmm... that's a little fast."  But I also thought about how great I was feeling. And I also thought about how completely and totally ready I felt to do this today. And I thought about how I did not want to waste this opportunity - this perfect day, this great course, this event that I love - I wanted to make the most of it. 

So I kept going.

The hills were there, but they were rolling - just the way I like them. Most were very gentle inclines, and they came just often enough that they were almost a welcome change. I was loving the course (a different one than I had run in 2007, and way better, I think). Every time I'd start feeling like I was getting sick of a long, straight stretch, we'd turn a corner and get a change of scenery. Everything was clicking.

Mile 4 - 7:29. Wow. That one freaked me out a little bit, I think, and I consciously dialed it back a little for mile 5 - 7:40. But, um, that didn't last long. Mile 6 - 7:19 and mile 7 - 7:22.

Around this time I started to try to do the math, and realized that I was on track to be well under the 1:41 I had hoped for. I had thought to come in at 1:40 would be fantastic, but now I started thinking that 1:39 was a possibility - and maybe even 1:38??  I didn't want to get ahead of myself, but I knew I was in a good place, and I just wanted to stay there. 

 

I definitely will not say that the pace felt easy, but it felt right. I was working hard, and it was challenging, but I was loving it. This is what I wanted to be doing, even though it was work, and it did hurt a little. And there were times on some of the hills where I felt tired, but I never once had that feeling of wanting to stop and walk. I never once felt like I didn't want to be there, giving it my all. That in itself was a victory. 

Mile 8 slowed me down a bit - 7:39, but I worked back down to 7:33 for mile 9, and 7:12 for mile 10. 

And that was it - 3 miles to go. I wasn't going to hold back now. Mile 11 - 7:14. Mile 12 - 7:03. I had hoped I could negative split those last few miles, but a hill in mile 13 held me back to 7:13. 

Then it was the final turn and through the arch, and I ran the last .1 at a 6:57 pace, and almost started crying when I saw 1:38:18 on the clock. Less than a minute off my all-time half-marathon PR, which, for the last couple of years, has seemed an entirely unattainable goal. Guess I need to rethink that! 

 

Also great to meet Samantha, who I've gotten to know virtually through her FB page - always so fun to meet FB friends in real life! Thanks again for the pics, Sammy! 

Never in a million years would I have guessed I'd be able to run that pace on this day. I had begun to think that I'd never run a half marathon at that pace ever again. It didn't seem real that I had just done it, without even planning to. 

I thought that Surftown was a huge turning point for me - and it was - but this was even bigger. Running 1:42 in Surftown made me feel like I was getting close to being ready to train for another 3:30 in Boston next year. But running 1:38 in Hartford makes me feel like I am ready, and that 3:30 is well within reach. 

I've always known that mental training is a huge component of preparing for a race, and the boost I got from Surftown last month definitely made all the difference in the word for me heading into Hartford. After being ambivalent for quite a while, my head was completely back in the game on Saturday, and that was a key component of how successful my run was. Never ever underestimate the power that a positive outlook can have, in running and in life. 

And if my finishing time hadn't made me happy enough, my standing in the results was the icing on the cake. In a decent-sized race with a pretty competitive field, I had made the top 10 in my age group - 9th out of 411! And just barely missed being in the top 10 Female Masters - came in 11th of 1, 161. I keep going back and looking at this, because I still kind of can't believe it. 

The smile on my face says it all : )  

 

Final numbers:

1:38:18; 7:30 pace (7:24; 13.3 miles by my Garmin)

9th of 411 age group

11th of 1,161 Female Masters

68 of 2,963 females

327 of 5,059 overall

So happy to be back, and already looking forward to my next race! 

Surftown Half - One of the Good Ones

I've spent the whole summer trying to shake off my Mystic Half Marathon debacle, and there were honestly times that I wasn't sure if I was going to succeed. That race unleashed a tidal wave of negative thoughts in my brain, and I was convinced that I was all washed up and wasn't going to race anymore, and every time I got tired I was just going to throw in the towel. 

The heat and humidity didn't really help all that much, either, as the conditions for much of the summer made even easy runs feel challenging, and as the date for Surftown approached, I maintained my laissez-faire attitude, and figured I'd just go out and run the best I could and not really care how slow or fast I was. It's a fun race, and a beautiful course, so I'd just go out and have fun with it. 

But then I started running, and 7:42 for the first mile felt pretty comfortable. And 7:43 for the second mile felt good, too.

Of course I went through the process of worrying that I was going out too fast and was going to pay for it later. But some part of me felt like maybe, just maybe, I could pull this off, if I could stay consistent with that pace. So I tried, without too much checking of my Garmin. It was truly feeling like a comfortable pace to run, and it just felt right. Ran a 7:45 for mile 3, and 7:41 for mile 4. 

Around mile 2 I had found myself stuck behind the 1:45 pace group, and I briefly thought about hanging with them for a little while, but didn't like being stuck in that big pack, so sped up and jumped ahead of them a bit - and worried that if I had a rotten day, they might end up passing me later on, but luckily that didn't happen. 

Those first miles of the course start with a long flat stretch along the ocean, and then wind through some neighborhoods with some rolling hills and very bumpy,  uneven roads, where you really have to watch your footing. I had started pretty close to the front, so never felt really crowded, but it did take a lot of concentration to run that pace on those rough, narrow roads, so it was nice to get back out to the oceanfront stretch again. 

I appreciated the flat, open road, and having the wind at my back at this point. It wasn't horribly windy, but there had been a noticeable headwind on the way out, so it was nice to be heading the other way for a little while. Mile 5 was 7:43, and I stopped to eat my Gu and drink some water in mile 6, so that slowed me down to 8:01. 

I was still feeling pretty good, and got through mile 7 in 7:39, and then we headed back into a windier stretch again, so mile 8 dropped back to 7:46. 

This is the point at which the pace stopped feeling comfortable and started to feel like work. And this is where the doubts really started to creep in, and the negative thoughts threatened.

In some ways it would have been so easy to convince myself that I had absolutely nothing to prove with this race. I hadn't set out to race it, and I hadn't put out any real goal for myself, so why not just back off to a slower pace and give myself a break?

But as these thoughts ran around and around in my head, I knew deep down inside that backing off wasn't the easy way out. Backing off would mean I'd remain stuck in this negative headspace that had been hanging over my running like a dark cloud for the past three months. Not that I didn't enjoy a great summer of running, because I did, but there's definitely been this undercurrent of a feeling of failure that I couldn't completely shake. 

And as I ran yesterday, I decided that I was ready to shake it once and for all. I was ready to reclaim the part of me that had been MIA for so long. And I called up the mantra that I latched onto after reading this blog post - I GET to do this. Nobody makes me do this. I'm not accountable to anyone but myself. I choose to do this, I choose how I run this race, and on this day, I was going to choose to run it with everything I had. 

Looking back now on that moment, I visualize it as an actual switch being flipped. My attitude completely changed, and I was ready to embrace the pain and work through it, instead of giving in to it. 

Mile 9 showed the mood shift - 7:38. But then mile 10, with the biggest hill on the course, brought back a little dose of reality with a 7:47. 

And that's where the real race began.  The last 3 miles always hurt, and I braced myself for it, and got ready to meet it head on. 

I did get thrown for a little bit of a loop in the last few miles, as they changed the course a bit from previous years, and the mostly flat final miles to the finish turned into a couple of miles of rolling hills and some sharp turns. I wasn't quite prepared for that, but I powered up the hills, and found myself starting to pass people who had been just ahead of me for most of the race. A woman running near me even gave me some props for charging up the hills, which was nice. Runners are awesome : ) 

Miles 11 and 12 hurt really, really bad - 7:36, 7:41. My brain was sending a barrage of messages to my body telling it to just stop already! But I refused to give in. I needed to conquer this one, and I knew that. 

Finally we were back onto the flat, open road and heading toward the beach again, and the finish was so close, but seemed so impossibly far away. 

But I knew the only way to get there was to keep running, and the only way to get there sooner was to run faster. So I did. Mile 13 in 7:34, final .1 at 7:09 pace. Not much of a kick, but I absolutely gave it all I had. 

I crossed knowing that I had run the fastest half marathon I've run in nearly a year, and more importantly, that I had raced and given it my all, and done so successfully. 

After I got my breath back, I caught up to two women who had been running just ahead of me and congratulated them both and thanked them for giving me someone to chase. I knew I wasn't going to catch them, but it's always good to have that for motivation. 

All in all, a really great day - one that could have easily gone the other way and left me feeling even more defeated than ever, but I didn't let it. I called the shots, and I turned it around, and that makes me even happier than my finishing time. 

But I am also happy with my finishing time of 1:42:26.

The other numbers make me happy, too:

6 of 175 in my age group

37 of 1,003 females

129 of 1,475 overall

And with that, I suddenly find myself excited to race again - so much so that I'm contemplating signing up for the Hartford Half marathon next month. It was my first half, and the full was my first BQ, so I've already got two great memories in Hartford - might be time to go make a third : ) 

The Blessing - Sixth Time Running, First Year Without a PR

I ran the Blessing for the first time in 2008. My goal was to run it in under 90 minutes, and I finished in 1:25:08. I was elated. And I knew it would become a favorite race that I'd run every year I was able. 

I skipped it in 2009 because I was pregnant, and although I was still running, a double-digit run in the heat and humidity of late July seemed like a bad decision. In 2010 I had to skip it again, this time due to injury. 2011 I was finally back, and set a huge PR, finishing in 1:19:02. In 2012 I dropped down to 1:16:22. 2013, I ran 1:14:58, keeping the PR streak going. Last year was a smaller PR, but a PR just the same, with a 1:14:11 finish. 

It was nice while it lasted. 

I knew this year wasn't going to be a PR for me. I'm not in shape to run a pace in the low- to mid-7s for 10 miles, and I knew if I tried, it would end in disaster. For a while I was even contemplating not racing it, and finding a slower runner to pace. 

But I knew I'd regret not going out there and at least giving it a shot, so I registered and I lined up last Friday night, but without a really specific goal in mind. I felt like I should be able to manage somewhere between a 7:30 and 8:00 pace - which is a very wide range, but that's really as specific as I could get. I just didn't know what I was going to be able to do once I got out there. 

What I did know is that I didn't want to race it all out. I wasn't interested in leaving it all on the course. My heart wasn't in it, and I knew if I tried to force my head and heart to that place, it wouldn't work. So I settled on making it a comfortably challenging tempo run. I wanted to finish feeling like I put forth a good effort and ran a good race - that seemed like the right goal for me at that moment, so that's what I went with. 

The day or two leading up to race day had been blissfully dry - almost unheard of for this time of year - and I was hoping it would stay that way for Friday night. But as we waited at the start, a front was on its way through the area, and the air had become much more humid and stuffy. It wasn't terribly warm, but it was more uncomfortable than I had thought it would feel. 

One of the things I love about this race is that it's as much a social event as it is a run, and it was fun to see so many familiar faces at the start. I stayed with a few friends until just a few minutes before the horn sounded, but two of them detoured for a final pit stop before lining up, and another friend and I said we would wait for them, but due to waiting, we ended up getting stuck a little further back in the pack than I would have liked.

The first mile or two are always really crowded, even up in the front, and I knew it was going to be ten times worse back where we were. But we had worked our way up as far as we could, and I'd just have to deal with it - and I did, by bobbing and weaving for much of the first 1.5 miles, until I finally found some clearer space to run. The only good thing about that was that it kept me to an 8:00 pace for my first mile, which I'm sure really helped me in the end. 

It was still feeling really stuffy and warm, but there was a little bit of a breeze as we made our way down Ocean Road, which helped a bit. And as I found some space to run, I worked my way down to 7:37, 7:36, and 7:38 for miles 2, 3, and 4, which was feeling downright perfect. Not too difficult, but not too easy, either. I was absolutely in my happy place and loving being out there.

Mile 5 includes a bit of an incline, so I dropped down to 7:42 there, and in mile 6 I walked at a water stop, to be sure that I really got a decent drink, since I hadn't had very much to drink yet at that point. That cost me a bit, and that mile was 7:50. I was still feeling good, though, and at this point it had actually started to rain, which felt fantastic! The thunder and lightning that were accompanying it, on the other hand, kind of freaked me out. 

This is a picture of the storm that someone posted on FB - I had good reason to be a little scared. 

I've gotten caught in thunderstorms a couple of times on a run, but have never run for so long in such bad conditions. The lightning was absolutely terrifying. And even though I know full well that being underneath trees isn't the best course of action in a thunderstorm, I somehow felt better once we got off the open stretch of 108 and turned into the wooded section of Kinney Ave. 

That's always been my favorite section of the course anyway, though, so it was a welcome relief to get there, and as they always do, my legs just seemed to know that hitting that stretch of road meant it was time to pick up the pace. 

I ran mile 7 in 7:29, and it did feel a bit more challenging, but still very doable. I had passed a couple of friends just before and right around this point, and seeing them was nice. And when I turned the corner to head back toward the Pier School (the starting line) and towards the mile 8 mark, the enormous crowds at the intersection gave me another little boost. 

Mile 8 passed pretty quickly in 7:22. I was definitely feeling the extra effort at this point, but knew I could keep it going for two more miles, thanks to starting at the easier pace. The thunder and lightning and rain had let up, and it definitely felt cooler, which was nice. The mile 9 sign was a welcome sight, and a happy one, as my watch beeped a 7:24 pace for that mile. 

I knew I could do better than that for the final one, though, especially since much of it is a nice little downhill, and the crowds are crazy there, cheering you on to the finish. And thanks to my conservative early paces, I definitely had some kick left, and ran the final mile in 7:17.

One of my favorite parts of the night was just before I approached the finish, when the announcer called out my name and also added that I'm president of the Narragansett Running Association - made me feel like a rock star : ) 

My goal Friday night was to have fun and finish with a smile on my face, and I definitely did that. I didn't even come close to a PR, but I knew I wouldn't. What I did was run a very smart, pretty evenly paced, nice tempo effort, and I felt really good almost the entire race - just a few tired moments.

It was a good night, and I'm proud of how I ran. I didn't leave it all on the course, but for once, I'm fine with that - that wasn't what I set out to do, and sometimes, it's ok to just run and enjoy it. 

And even without giving it an all-out effort, I was still able to crack the top 10 in my age group - no small feat in what is an extremely competitive race! 

The numbers - 

1:16:56 - a 7:35 pace by my Garmin (which has me running 10.2 miles) 

8 of 242 age group

405 of 2384 overall 

The PR streak may have ended, but no complaints from me - it was a great night! 

Love all the NRA singlets - makes me so happy to see them out there! 

On the Eve of 44

I've been all over the place lately when it comes to my running, and have been really struggling to figure out where I am and where I'm trying to go. And I've felt for a long time like I wanted to write about it, but I couldn't sort it out enough to get started.

But then I read this blog today (I could never even hope to write as eloquently as Dimity, and her posts never fail to make me stop and really think - and sometimes laugh and cry, too) - and I felt like maybe, as it has in the past, writing would actually be the thing that helps me sort it out, and I might as well give it a shot. 

I turn 44 years old tomorrow, and I've never been one of those people who freaks out about getting a year older, and I don't intend to become one of those people. I've always subscribed to the "you're only as old as you feel" theory, and in so many ways, I don't feel 44.  

However, this birthday is giving me pause more than other birthdays have. Forty barely phased me, and the years since then have gone by in such a blur that I can barely remember those other three birthdays. 

But something seems to be shifting this year - or, more accurately, a lot of things seem to be shifting, and I find myself doing a lot of self-reflecting, and a lot of reminiscing, and a lot of pondering what the future holds. Kind of feels mid-life-crisis-like, but in a more gentle way, because I don't feel like I'm in crisis mode - I feel more like I'm settling in to the person I've become - because that person has changed a lot in the past few years, mostly thanks to running. 

All these thoughts have been swirling around in my head for a while now, but my incredibly difficult race experience in Mystic was something of a catalyst for bringing them a bit more into focus. I've accepted the difficulties of that race, and moved on from it, but I've still found myself looking back a lot. Looking back at my race results from the past few years; looking back at my track workouts; looking back at my race photos.

And I'd feel really proud as I looked back, but frustrated, too. Frustrated that I'm not running those same paces, winning those same age-group awards, and that in those photos I wasn't carrying the extra 5 pounds that I feel like I'm carrying now. 

This picture from the Blessing of the Fleet 10-Miler a few years ago (2012) epitomizes all of that. I look at this picture and I can see how confident and focused I was. And I felt that way for a good two years, during which all of my race times dropped, and I set PR after PR, and racked up a whole bunch of age-group awards, and felt damn near invincible. 

 

That feeling continued right through my Boston 2013 finish, but I haven't really been able to recapture it since. Injury layoffs have certainly had something to do with throwing me off my game, and I can't say that I've been running poorly, because I was able to rally to a 3:32 finish in Philly last year, even with injury issues. 

But it feels different. During those PR years, I was working hard, but to some degree, the results felt like they came easy. I set a goal, I worked toward it, and I achieved it. Period. 

Now I feel like the work is a little bit harder, and the results are a little bit less certain. And I also feel like the hard work takes a little bit more out of me than it used to. Which is why I'm working really hard on keeping the hard work to the hard days, and making the easy days truly easy.

And why I'm also making myself go to bed earlier, so that getting up before the sun to run doesn't leave me snoozing on my desk at 2pm. And why I actually make the time to do things I used to blow off due to being too busy, like stretching and foam rolling. 

I know I'm nowhere near old, but I am older, and this slightly older body is demanding a little bit more respect than I used to give it. 

It's also demanding slightly bigger clothing. And let me preface this by saying that I am utterly, completely, 100% fine with the way I look. I feel healthy and fit and strong, and I have no problem whatsoever with my body image. But the reality is that a few pounds have creeped on over the past few years, and I had a pile of teeny tiny shorts that I used to live in all summer that, although I can still get them on, are no longer at all comfortable. So I ditched them and moved up a size, and I'm so much happier. 

I will admit that there was a part of me that felt for a while that if I could shed those 5 pounds (I'm guessing that's what it is, because I refuse to step on the scale), I'd get back to my lean, mean, PR-setting self. But at what price? I struggled with weight and eating issues in college, and I know that I have a very bad tendency to take things to the extreme, and I fear that if I started down a path of monitoring my weight and being a slave to those numbers, it could potentially lead to a very bad place.

And one of the most powerful things that running has taught me is that my body can do amazing things if I treat it right, and right now, treating it right means being ok with the fact that my metabolism has slowed a bit, and the pounds don't melt off just because I run 35 miles a week and eat very healthy 90% of the time.

And it also means being ok with the fact that the PRs aren't going to come quite as easy as they used to, and that I have to have a little more patience with myself and appreciate the work that I put in just as much as the results. 

So I'm settling in, and I'm accepting, and I'm not going to do so much looking back. I will still look back, because it's good to see where I've been, and all those great running moments and PRs weren't just technical successes - they were incredible memories, so many of them involving races and runs with friends, and some with Scott and the boys there to see me finish. So now when I look back, I'll do so happily, and with nostalgia rather than frustration. 

As for looking ahead - I still see a lot of question marks. When I think about goals, all I can really think about is Boston 2016. I'm not even registered for any other races before then. There are some I have in mind, but I'm really unsure about whether or not I want to do a lot of racing this summer and fall. I'm even contemplating not racing the Blessing of the Fleet 10-mile race, and trying to find a slower runner to pace instead. I think that would turn out to be a much more rewarding experience for me, and probably a much more fun one, too. 

Something is telling me that this is a different season of running for me. Which is not to say that I'm not going to work at getting better. I still fully intend to hit the track every week, and do a tempo run most weeks, and continue doing all the cross-training and easy running that I always do, and I sincerely hope that my hard work brings the progress I'd like it to bring. But I don't feel like I need to have any short-term goals at the moment.

I'm at a point where running is bringing something different to my life. It's brought me a whole bunch of new friends, which is one of the greatest gifts, by far.

And it's brought me to a point where I'm a Race Director and President of my running club, neither of which I ever would have imagined myself doing. I'm finding satisfaction in other aspects of the sport, and although part of me misses the thrill of chasing down PRs, it's not like there's a gaping hole in my life, because there is so much else to be gained, and given, and it's feeling like that's enough right now. 

The time will come this winter when I need to get my game face back on and I need to call up that driven, focused, PR-setting self and put her back to work to get ready for Boston. But for now, I'm going to cut her some slack and let her enjoy her summer. 

I'm not down, and I'm not out, but I think I'm on a break (and yes, all I can think of when I say that is Ross and Rachel from Friends). And after reading Dimity's blog this morning and coming to this realization, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. 

So I'm not setting PRs, and I'm not running my fastest times ever, and I'm not standing on the podium at the end of the race. So what? I GET TO DO THIS. I get to go out and run and race, and I get to do this thing that I absolutely love, that brings me so much joy and clarity and strength and confidence.

I get to do this. And right now, that is enough. 

My Not-So-Triumphant Return to Racing (and Blogging)

I doubt that this is going to become anything even close to a regular thing again, but after 5 months away from my blog, I'm finally compelled to post, thanks to a horrible race experience yesterday that I need to write about in order to process. 

There have been two other races that I've run since Philly last November, but since I was still in the process of returning after my 6-week winter ITB syndrome layoff, I didn't really race either of them all out, but treated them more as tempo runs. One was the State Police 5K at the end of April, which I ran as a few tempo miles in the middle of a 10-mile training run, ending up with a 7:39, 7:23, and 7:01 - a nice effort at the time. 

After that I ran the Providence half (for the eighth time), and treated it as a training run, aiming to run a pace that felt moderately challenging, which turned out to be right around 8 minutes per mile. 

The Mystic Half Marathon was the one I was really waiting for, though. I was looking forward to running in Mystic, and I felt like it was good timing for me to get out and really put myself to the test and see what I could do. Based on my training runs leading up to race day, I felt like I had a good shot at running right around a 7:50 pace, and I even hoped I could drop down into the 7:45 range for the final miles. 

 

Since I was planning to truly make it a race effort, I even took a complete rest day on Saturday - almost unheard of for me, but I wanted to make sure I went into race day as rested and prepared as possible. And my other runs/workouts during the week were lighter than usual, too. 

I wasn't obsessively checking the weather (surprisingly, since I usually do), but I did check it Saturday night, and it looked like it was going to be in the upper 60s, but cloudy and possibly rainy. I figured the clouds and rain would keep it cool enough that the warmer temp wouldn't be too much of an issue. And since the race started at 7am, I thought we'd end up with something closer to the lower 60s. 

I was wrong. 

As I was getting my stuff ready and eating my breakfast Sunday morning, I stepped outside to gauge what it felt like, and I knew right away that it was going to be warmer than I had anticipated - and humid, too. And the sun was out. Hmmmmmm......

I tried to keep thinking positive, though, and kept waiting for the rain clouds to appear as I drove down to Mystic, but skies were still clear. It was definitely warm just standing around at the start, and the race announcer kept reminding everyone to drink lots of water because it was going to warm up out there. 

But I was still excited, and anxious to get going. It's been such a long time since I really raced, I had forgotten what pre-race nerves feel like, and even though it's tough to get so nervous like that, it's such a big part of the excitement, I was happy to be experiencing it again.

And that moment of standing in the corral moments before the race start - I love that so much, and at that point, my head was still in a good place, so I was smiling as we finally heard the horn blast and headed out. 

The first mile I focused solely on getting into a good rhythm with my planned pace of 7:50. It was flat, so it was tempting to go fast and it took a little back and forth, but in the end, I nailed it for mile 1 - exactly 7:50. I got a little ahead of myself during mile 2, with a 7:42, but brought it back down to 7:50 and 7:49 for miles 3 and 4. 

Unfortunately, by the time I got to mile 4, I was already in a very rapid downward spiral. The temperature at the start was 68 degrees, and the cloud cover I was hoping for never showed up. And the first 4 miles of the race were basically in full sun. It was a very pretty route, but all I could think about was how stinkin' hot it was. 

I was completely overheated at mile 2, and having trouble catching my breath due to the humidity, and feeling very nervous about what that was going to mean for me in the later miles. And as we made our way up a pretty decent sized hill in mile 4, I felt nowhere near as strong as I typically feel on hills. 

I tried to tell myself that it was ok, that I'd bounce back and still meet my goal, because I was doing a good job sticking to what I had thought would feel like a pretty conservative pace for the early miles. 

But as we continued through a bunch of rolling hills through miles 5, 6, and 7, the 7:57, 7:54, and 7:48 miles I ran felt a whole lot harder than that pace should have felt for me. 

A very large hill around mile 8 nearly brought me to tears. I was struggling, and I can't remember the last time I felt so bad in a race. I'm usually passing people on hills, but this time I was barely able to keep my feet moving, and it was sheer willpower and stubbornness that kept me from stopping to walk. As soon as we got to the top of that hill and I saw a water stop, I did stop to walk and take my Gu, which cost me, making that mile an 8:10. 

Seeing that 8 was very discouraging, and just added to the absolute barrage of negative thoughts that was swirling around in my brain. It was all I could do not to completely succumb to them and just park myself on the side of the road. 

I pulled it together enough to rally for a 7:46 for mile 9, but that was probably not a good idea, because then somewhere around mile 10, I was completely and utterly done. My brain was screaming at me to just stop and walk already, as it had been for miles and miles, but this time I listened. 

And as I walked for a good 40 seconds or so, I kept muttering under my breath, "I suck. I just suck." 

Not a good place to be. In fact, a very, very bad place to be.

 

It's hard to describe the mind games you go through when you sink to such a low point during a race. It was so easy for me to tell myself that there would be nothing wrong with just jogging the last few miles at a truly easy pace and calling it a training run. 

But as soon as I'd think that, I'd get even madder at myself for even considering it. This battle went on for miles. And as I struggled, the phrase "epic fail" kept going through my head. But I just reminded myself over and over that if I kept pushing, it wouldn't be a failure. I knew I wasn't going to make my goal, but I also knew I had to cross that line knowing that I hadn't thrown in the towel; that I still gave it my all. 

For mile 11, that meant an 8:02. Still way off where I wanted to be, but better than the 8:57. And thanks to some nice downhill, I managed a 7:58 for mile 12. 

I was still fighting for nearly every single step, but knowing there was only a mile left, I fell back on my "you can do anything for one mile" mantra, and got my legs moving for a 7:40 for mile 13. 

That final .1 always seems to take forever, and it seemed even longer this time, but I found a little kick, even passing someone and registering a 6:34 pace for that final little stretch.  

As happy as I was to be done, I was completely and utterly dejected seeing the 1:45:41 on the clock. A good 3 - 4 minutes slower than I had hoped I'd be. But what was most disheartening was that the whole thing felt so damn hard.

I kept going back to a 12-mile training run I ran a few weeks ago, where I maintained a 7:50 average pace and felt great. But the weather that morning was in the low 50s, and completely dry - a far cry from Sunday's  hot, humid conditions. 

I usually hang around at least for a short while after a race, but I was so disgusted and angry with how my day had gone, I grabbed water and a snack and headed out immediately. Luckily the remainder of the day was salvaged with some fun as we spent it at the Air Show at Quonset - a good remedy for a major case of disappointment. 

And later in the day I checked the results and saw that I was 4th in my age group. (I appear to be tied with the third place finisher, as they have us both listed as 1:45:41, but I was actually two tenths of a second slower than her, so I am technically 4th). 

Seeing that gave me a lot of perspective, because if I can have what felt like one of the most difficult, crappiest races of my life, and come in 4th out of 107 in my age group, I'm still doing something right. 

This race taught me a lot. It taught me to never, ever underestimate the effects of weather on a run. I've enjoyed some lovely cool sunrise runs this spring, and I've run some great training paces, but my body has not had any chance to acclimate to warmer, more humid weather, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

It also taught me that even when you hit your lowest point, and you're bent over, shuffling along, certain you'll never be able to run again, you CAN come back. Because I was at that point, and I sunk to that walk, and to that 8:57 mile, but two miles later, I ran a 7:40. 

Never give up. Never count yourself out. Never stop trying. Because there is so much more strength inside you than you ever thought possible. 

And that's what I'm going to take away from this whole experience. That even though I flirted with failure, and I flirted with quitting, I didn't quit, and I didn't fail. It may have been one of my worst half marathons, and there are elements of it that I want to just put behind me and forget about.

But the next time I feel discouraged and beaten down in a race, I need to be able to remember this one, because knowing that I was able to fight back this time will be the fuel I need for the fire the next time. 

In the end -

1:45:41 finish

8:05 pace officially, but thanks to me still not being good at running the tangents, Garmin has me at a 7:57 pace for 13.33 miles.

103 of 1,044 overall

25 of 687 females

4th of 107 in my age group

As much as I want to get back out there and redeem myself, I'm glad the next race on my schedule is a 5K next weekend that I'll run with Dante. A truly fun run is probably the best thing I can do for myself right now. 

2014 Year In Review

It's hard to believe that an entire year has already passed, and in some ways I can barely remember where I was a year ago at this time - frustrated, discouraged, injured, and unable to run, even though I was supposed to be embarking on my Boston 2o14 training plan.

As always, it's been a very full, very busy year, and it was definitely marked with some particularly momentous occasions, most notably Boston itself.

But when I look back, what marked this year the most was the friendships I've made and how I've changed as a person thanks to this sport that has become so irrevocably a part of my being. 

My Boston 2014 training was the polar opposite of my Boston 2013 training. I was forced to abandon any and all time goals, and the only goal I was able to hold onto was finishing - crossing that finish line was ALL that mattered. Well, that's actually not completely true - crossing that finish line and having the happy, celebratory post-race experience that I had been envisioning since 2012 - that's all that mattered. 

And thankfully that's what I got. The race was very difficult for me, both mentally and physically, but emotionally, it was everything that I needed it to be. It was cathartic, it provided me some sense of closure, it enabled me to move on, and it gave me back my finish line. It was a very long, very uncertain road that I took to get there, but I never wavered, and my perseverance paid off, and that entire experience absolutely defines this year for me. 

There were other defining moments, too, though - my running Dante's first 5K with him was certainly one of those. His quote at mile 2 - "This is the best day of my life"- will stay with me forever - a thought I've had at so many moments while running, and to hear him say it out loud was just such an affirmation of all the amazing and wonderful things that running has brought into my life, and I can only hope that he'll have the opportunity to realize that many times over. 

My comeback from the pre-Boston-training injury seemed like it was on a pretty great track when I ran the Ocean's Run Half in March. I didn't all-out race it, but I gave it the best effort I felt up to giving it, and it worked out really well, giving me a huge boost of confidence for Boston. 

That boost of confidence was amplified with the Quonset Point 10-miler a few weeks later - which I ran with my friends as the second half of a 20-mile training run. That was my second and final 20-miler of my Boston 'training,' and I ran better than I ever imagined I'd run, even in the absolutely horrible conditions (cold, and pouring rain the entire time).  

I even managed to pull off an age-group award. I knew Boston would still be tough, given that I had only really trained for about 8 weeks, but I felt better about being able to get through it. 

Boston itself was everything I imagined it would be. It was challenging, it was incredibly emotional, it was a victory in every sense of the word - but most importantly, it was what I needed it to be. It was my chance to reclaim my Boston Marathon finish line. And I am so incredibly glad that I was able to fight my way back and get there. It was not an easy road, but I think that made the reward that much more meaningful. 

The rest of the spring and summer were about finding my way back to running healthy and strong, and I did just that, with a few great races - the Providence Half, just three weeks post-Boston, the Jamestown Half (with its crazy 20-minute late start and insane hills), a PR at the Blessing of the Fleet 10-Miler, and an age-group win at the Schonning 5K.  

 

In the middle of all that was also Dante's second 5K, the Katie DeCubellis race in June, where he placed 3rd in his age group, and we took home what felt like a truckload of raffle prizes - a really fun day for both of us. 

And despite saying I was only going to do one marathon a year from now on, I needed to redeem my terrible run in Boston, and signed up for the Philadelphia Marathon, and training kicked off in late summer. The first 8 weeks were flawless. I ran every workout, I hit every training pace, and I felt fantastic. 

The second 8 weeks was a different story, one filled with injury interruptions, missed long runs, and a complete absence of speedwork. I did complete the majority of the final 6 weeks of the plan, though (including two half marathons - Surftown and Newport - that were run as part of longer training runs) and was still able to get my redemption in Philly.

It wasn't the PR I had originally been shooting for, but it was a great race (and a really fun weekend!), and I'm very proud of the outcome. 

I also managed to come in 1st in my age group in the RI Triple Crown series (and second female overall), which was a nice little bonus, especially given that I ran all three of the half marathons with less than optimal preparation. 

And on the road to Philly, I also got involved in this little race my running club was planning, and that little race turned into a half marathon with 600 registered runners, nearly 500 of whom showed up and ran the race, despite the fact that it was on the same day that a Nor'Easter blew through. 

Being one of the race organizers for that event was some of the hardest work I've ever done in my life, but also the most fun. It wasn't anything I really inteded to do, but I'm so glad that I sort of fell into it, because it ended up being one of the highlights of my entire year, and also kind of led to me becoming President of my running club - something I never imagined I'd do, but I feel incredibly fortunate to have been given the opportunity, and am so excited about it.

I finished out the year running Dante's 3rd 5K with him - the Jingle Bell run on the beach. And seeing him set almost a 2-minute PR was definitely one of the other highlights of my year, and a great way to close out the calendar. 

I've gone through a lot of emotional upheaval following the completion of Gansett and Philly, and a severe case of post-race blues, but what's saving me is just getting out there and running for the sake of running. 

There is a part of me that's itching to identify and chase down another goal, but there's another part of me that just isn't ready, and can't quite muster the mental and emotional energy that kind of goal-chasing requires. 

And on top of that, I'm also dealing with an IT band/hamstring issue that won't quite go away, even with cutting back on my mileage and going to PT and acupuncture. So after running 6.79 miles yesterday morning (I needed the .79 to end the year on a nice round number), I decided I need to take at least a couple of weeks off to let this thing resolve itself, before it turns into anything really serious. 

So I'll begin 2015 without running, much like I did 2014. And although I'm going to miss the emotional clarity my runs have been affording me, I  know it's what I need to do right now. With no races on the horizon, and no training plan to follow, there's no reason to push through and risk injury. Hopefully a few short weeks will do the trick, and when I find my way back out on the road, I'll figure out where I'm going to go from there. 

This will be the first year since 2011 that I won't spend the winter months training for a spring marathon, and it feels odd, but I'm also kind of happy to have the break. 

Less running means more time to go out with these lovely women and take blurry yellow selfies : ) 

Lots of question marks for 2015, but I'm ok with that. I've learned time and again that even when you do have things all planned out in your head (and on paper), reality doesn't always cooperate, so I'm stepping back and letting things just unfold for a little while, and it feels surprisingly good.

Here's to the unknown, and to another year of learning, growing, and friendship, which I realized this year are the most important things I get out of this amazing sport. 

Dante's Third 5K - And a New PR!

I know most people think they'd never hear me say these words, but when I woke up Sunday morning, I really didn't feel like going for a run. I was tired, it was cold and windy, and I was seriously lacking motivation.

Luckily I had plans to meet my friends to run and go for coffee afterward, so I bundled up and headed out.

And of course once I started running, I felt a hundred times better, and was so glad I didn't blow it off. We ran and talked, and kept to a nice easy pace like I had wanted to, and went for a post-run coffee and talked some more, and it was the perfect way to start my day. 

As we ran, I debated whether or not I was going to do the 5K on the beach with Dante as I had been planning. It was so windy and cold, and I knew it would be even windier (and colder) on the beach. I didn't want the less than ideal conditions to make it a miserable experience for him. 

But he's a tough little kid, and ultimately I felt like he'd be fine, so I decided to go for it. 

I forgot to wear my Garmin, and the whole race is run on the beach (you go back and forth a couple of times), so I have no idea what our mile splits were, and I don't really care. I'm pretty sure we made it just about an entire mile without him having to stop, but then we stopped and walked a bunch of times during the final 2 miles. 

I let him call the shots, as I've done in the other races we've run together. We had some laughs about how crazy the wind was, especially when we were running into it. And we both commented on how cool the beach looks in the winter - such a different feel to it. 

Without a watch, I really had no idea how long it was taking us, but I had guessed we'd finish in around 40 minutes. So when we got within sight of the clock and I saw that it was just under 37 minutes, I yelled at him to "Go, go, go!!!  This is going to be your fastest 5K EVER!"  

And he listened. He sprinted into the finish in 37:04 - and then promptly had to sit down on the sand to catch his breath. I told him that's how you're supposed to feel at the end of a race :-) 

This is a very, very small race (less than 50 finishers), so there wasn't a lot of fanfare afterward, but we went inside and he enjoyed his post-race clam chowder, donuts, and hot chocolate, and we stayed for the awards, too.  Since it's such an incredibly small race, my 37-minute finish actually put me 2nd in my age group - I don't think that would happen at ANY other 5K ever. 

It was a fun event for us, though, and I'm so glad we did it. I am honestly every bit as proud of his PR as I've ever been of one of my own. And of course now that he's seen that if he keeps up with this, he can get better at it, he's already looking forward to his next race - and now Gabe wants to do one, too. 

I remember a few years ago thinking about how awesome it would be when my kids were old enough to run with me. And now that they are - it's even better than I imagined it would be. 

Jingle Bell 5K on the beach - 

37:04, 11:57 pace, 2-minute PR 

I'm not going to be chasing a PR of my own this weekend, but I am looking forward to getting out and running my own 10K race in Newport, and hope to have a fun race and a decent finish time.  

Still feeling somewhat lost and aimless post-marathon, but trying to settle in and get used to running just because. Because it makes me happy, because it brings me peace, because it clears my head, because it feeds my soul, because it lifts my spirits. Because right now, that's what I need.