Cheap Thrill

Find yourself in better shape than you thought? Want a reason to go to Vegas and don't feel like shelling out the $160 for Rock and Roll in December? Here's quite the deal for you:

http://www.reallybigfreemarathon.com/

Interesting concept where sponsors picked up the registration costs. If you end up running this race, let me know how it goes. It will either be seamless or a complete catastrophe. Hope a porto-potty company gave some in-kind donations. 

Surfacing

Grades are posted. I’ve had 5 good nights of sleep. I went grocery shopping and got in a few runs longer than the 30 minutes I've been living on. All in all, I’m starting to feel like a human again. It’s not an experience I’d like to repeat, but Organic Chemistry is successfully completed.

In other news, it’s been a big summer for me as a runner! I got a shiny new 5K PR at Clarence DeMar on a hot, humid morning.  I survived the Stowe 8 Miler both as a runner and as the incoming Team Racing Coordinator for GMAA. I was hired as the Assistant Cross Country Coach at Mount Mansfield Union High School, an opportunity about which I am extremely excited. And here you thought that I was just in the library…

One major downside of my summer is that my mileage was stuck around 35 miles a week. While I’m grateful to have fit that in, I’m heading into August with a lot of base building to do. As a result, I don’t think I’ll be racing a fall marathon, but will instead focus on getting into shape with Vermont City Marathon as my next big goal race. The upside is that it’s August, and I’m not injured. As many of us can attest, sometimes being uninjured is an enormous accomplishment.

So what else is new from the past 8 weeks? Anyone have a PR to brag about? A funny running story? Race plans firmed up for the fall?

So happy to be back.

S

Just Gotta Get Through This

Sometimes people mention things in passing that come back to you later in unexpected ways. Jess mentioned this song as part of a story about surviving a rough time and recently, I find myself playing it on repeat. Organic Chemistry over the summer is a lot like a marathon. You know (or are pretty confident) that it won't kill you, but that doesn't mean it won't be a gruesome, gutting experience.

In my first marathon, miles 22 and 23 weren't pretty. In my second, miles 10 through 26 were a wreck. This course is somewhere in the middle. The first semester was busy, but I came out of it relatively unscathed. I think the words "Organic Chemistry SO isn't that bad" even escaped my lips. I said a similar thing after my first marathon. Much like Mile 10 of my second marathon, I'm thinking I spoke too soon.

This week is a lot like that point in a race where you ask yourself why the f*&$ you race. Why can't you just be casual? Why can't you just head out and jog like everyone else? The answer lies, of course, in the feelings that the casual runner misses. They miss the moment when you know you're going to finish.They miss out on the moment when you know you are going to PR, the moment when you know you're going to get through it.

I have lots of race reports to write up (including a shiny new 5K PR), but they'll have to wait til August.

Run On.

S

It Pays to Run

One benefit of the summer race season is the ability to race both days of the weekend, almost all summer long. In addition to myriad opportunities to check your fitness, there is always the possibility you'll win a prize. While I've won plenty of prizes in my life, this past weekend, I won the best.prize.ever. The best part was that it was in no way related to my performance. Yes, on Sunday at the Paul Mailman 10 Miler, I won a chicken in the raffle.

Now to clarify, this chicken was already dead. A surprising number of people have responded, "A live chicken!?" as though that makes more sense than a free range, local chicken frozen and donated by the race director. Although a frozen broiler is less exciting than a live chicken, it is an excellent prize nonetheless. This is a huge bird and although I probably won't roast it until the fall (perhaps at the "Booty Dinner" Jess and I thought up on our run yesterday), I'm sure it will be as exciting then as it was on Sunday.

The other benefit of the chicken was the hilarity that ensued on the way home. My ever-supportive teammates were as excited as I was, and we took a group picture with the chicken. Carlie recommended a great cookbook, Roast Chicken and Other Stories: A Recipe Book and we came up with my costume idea for First Run 2012, which will remain a secret until then.

What is your best prize ever, running-related or not?

Happy Summer Racing.
~S

Wordless Wednesday: Pink and Spiky

Perfect for Catamount Tuesdays and the Equinox 10K on Saturday...

Brooks PR MD, with 3/8 " Spikes

Hot in Herre

The one thing we can't control on marathon day is the weather, but that doesn't stop us from checking it incessantly from two weeks out. The weather for Sunday looks...grim. Most marathoners would agree that 55 is about as warm as you want it. Even Boston, which topped out at about 65, felt very hot. So what's a runner to do in the heat?

A hotter day means more sweat, upping your hydration requirements. While hydration is a slippery slope (and new runners tend towards over-drinking rather than under-drinking), pay attention to your thirst. Consider drinking more sports drink than you had planned to compensate for additional salt loss. Pay attention to how you feel. Hydration is tricky; if you wait too long, it can be impossible to catch up. What's your plan for drinking?

A sunny day also requires sun protection. Don a hat and sunglasses and make sure to wear sunscreen, which will keep you cooler over the duration of the race. If you are a profuse sweater, skip sunscreen on your forehead. The hat should protect you and you won't spend 3+ hours trying to keep sweat out of your eyes.

An unexpectedly hot day (like 75 in May, when we've been cool and rainy for weeks) requires an honest re-assessment of goals. Heat affects most runners profoundly and we should adjust our goals down if the day is hot. If we wake up on Sunday to heat and humidity, how will you adjust your goals?

Finally, showers add a bit of excitement to the whole picture. Damp conditions necessitate a full assault on chafing. If you think it might chafe, body glide it. Then Body Glide it again. I often put Aquaphor on my feet, especially between my toes. This gives a little more water-repellent action and keeps me blister free. Places you might not think about? The neck of your tee shirt or tank and the backside of your shirt where safety pins rub.

While we can't control the weather (so stop hitting refresh on your browser), we can adjust our plans to make it the most comfortable run possible.

See you Sunday...

Boston Marathon Race Report

When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to dress me up on Patriot's Day in my marathon outfit and I'd run a course in their backyard south of Boston. As I grew older, the idea of running Boston always percolated, but it wasn't until I started running marathons that I started seriously courting the idea. In her demented state, my grandmother thought every marathon I did was the Boston marathon, so it was nice this past year to be able to say "Yes, Nana, this year I will run Boston."  It is both heartbreaking and fitting that she died on the Thursday before Boston.

Cruising down Boylston

I arrived in Boston exhausted and sad. Thankfully, I was staying with two dear friends who boosted me up. I slept for 12 hours on Saturday night and even slept on Sunday night for about 7 hours. I drank plenty of water and powerade, ate well and stayed off my legs. On Monday morning, I met up with a teammate who convinced me that we didn't need to catch the bus until 6:45. While I'm not sure who was more nervous, having Matt around made for a very smooth race morning. By the time I got into the starting corral, I had 5 minutes to go and was feeling good.

My splits aren't particularly exciting. I went out slowly as planned and stayed steady through the whole race. My one mistake was thinking that I would have any sort of hammer to drop. I felt great throughout the race, but couldn't have picked it up anywhere past 20 without risking a blowup.

Start to 6: Went out slowwwwwwwly. Got in one collision at a water stop and subsequently teamed up with some other people to share cups instead of having to veer off to the left or right.

Mile 1: 7:38

Mile 2: 7:19

Mile 3: 7:20

Mile 4: 7:07

Mile 5: 7:17

Mile 6: 7:08

6 to 16: Spent most of these miles trying to stay patient and telling myself "only ten more miles until you see Mom and Suzy," "only 30 minutes until you see Mom and Suzy."  I will say that I was more than overwhelmed by the Wellesley girls and rolled far left away from their waving arms. I was overjoyed to see my mom and sister at Newton-Wellesley hospital and impressed that they got the whole group around them to also cheer. It was a huge mental boost that carried me into the hills.

Mile 7: 7:01

Mile 8: 7:13

Mile 9: 7:09

Mile 10: 7:12

Mile 11: 7:10

Mile 12: 7:09

Mile 13: 7:09

Mile 14: 7:03

Mile 15: 7:08

Mile 16: 7:01

17 to 21: The Hills!!  I decided early on to approach the hills as an opportunity to run strong, not something to be feared. I am a strong hill runner and actually prefer inclines to flats. I focused on form, using my arms to drive me up the hills. I am happy to report that I think Heartbreak just gets a bad rap...

Mile 17: 7:17

Mile 18: 7:21

Mile 19: 7:24

Mile 20: 7:23

Mile 21: 7:27

21 to finish: Once we were done with Heartbreak (bizarrely announced by a huge inflatable sign), I started to grind towards home. It was about here that I realized a 3:08 wasn't in the cards. I decided instead to try to run smooth and strong to the end. I saw my dad and aunt in Coolidge Corner and my mom and sister again at 25. I struggled with the silence under the Mass Ave bridge, where I had my first opportunity all day to think about the hallowed ground upon which I was running, to remember my Nana and Coop and how proud they would be to watch me finish. Thankfully, that silence doesn't last long. My girlfriends were at the turn onto Hereford and from there, it was time to head home. 

Mile 22: 7:12

Mile 23: 7:19

Mile 24: 7:18

Mile 25: 7:18

Mile 26: 7:12

.2 (slash .4, ooops, not perfect tangents): 2:47 (6:47 pace)

Home Sweet Home (and sore)

I promise a full race report by the end of the week, but I'm back in Vermont after a Boston Marathon-Funeral double header, so I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep in my own bed. It will be hard to go back to work tomorrow after more than a week off, but I'm excited to get back into a regular schedule.

Boston was a great experience. While the race wasn't quite as fast as I'd wanted (dreamed?), I ran a very smart, evenly paced race. My second half was only 30 seconds slower than my first, a feat on a course featuring a much harder second half. I was actually smiling throughout the race and save for horrible cramps after the finish, felt pretty good.

I paddled around the pool and hot tub last night and did a light bike workout this morning. That said, I'm still very sore. Stairs, ramps and chairs are not my friends. I'm looking forward to getting back to some light running by the end of the week, but am otherwise going to take the week to recover and reflect.

Pertinent Information

Want to track me at Boston?  Bib 6803, Wave 1, Corral 7.

The plan, as detailed ad nauseum in an earlier post, is to go out patiently to 16, then start grinding through the hills.

One Week to Go

First panicky weather check officially completed: low of 40, high of 55 and sunny.

Next week at this time, I'll be milling around Athlete's Village, anxiously awaiting my 10 am start.

The Final Approach

Ladies and Gentleman, as we prepare for our final approach into Boston's Logan Airport, please ensure that your tray tables and seat backs are in their upright and locked position. The flight attendants will be coming through the cabin to collect any unwanted items.

The descent into Logan is one of the most harrowing on the East Coast. During the preliminary descent, you drop to an altitude at which you can only see ocean. When you begin the final bank left, it appears as though you are going to land in the Atlantic. It's only at the last minute that you see the runway and exhale. My approach to Boston has been similar. For the past few weeks, I've been convinced that I'm going to land in the ocean, but I think I can see the runway now.

This training cycle has been turbulent, from a serious winter that has yet to relinquish its grasp to a schedule that even I have to admit is a little over-loaded. Much like the days after a harrowing flight, I am vowing not to repeat a training cycle like this.

My last 20 is done. I will do another 16 on Sunday, a couple more moderate distance runs and one or two faster paced workouts. My job now is to rest, recover and prepare for April 18th. I hate taper. I am a miserable person when I'm not running, so to those who see me regularly, please accept my advance apologies. (WM, it's my two weeks to be snarky.)

Anyone have an air-sickness bag?

~S

New Bedford Half Marathon Race Report

I arrived at the starting line of New Bedford with few expectations. After a rough winter on bad surfaces and numbness returning to my calf and foot, the only thing I knew was that I would finish and that at the least, I was working towards my resolution to race more.  My goal was to run even splits, start at a pace I could finish at and dig deep.

This was the first race in a long time where I didn't find myself nauseated on the start line. Normally, I'm almost paralyzed with nerves. I don't know if it was the lack of a particular goal, the safety of not being fully tapered or the fact that I hadn't had to deal with race day details beyond getting to the start line, but I was calm and collected. Besides a minor altercation with a runner way in front of where she should have started and her lack of appreciation for my elbow in her back, the start was smooth. I let everyone else barrel out and just ran a relaxed opening mile in 6:46 with Matt. We chatted through 3, clicking off a 6:52 and 6:45 for Miles 2 and 3. Matt was aiming for a 1:25, so we split around 3. I felt good, although my calf had the all too familiar full feeling.

After topping the hill at 4, it was a downhill cruise for a few miles and I just focused on smooth, strong strides. Paces were 6:53, 6:28, 6:33, 6:21and 6:31 for Miles 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 respectively. I had a minor meltdown at 9, an incident perhaps predicted by Norm, who warned me to stay focused during the mile. My quads were shot from the downhill section and my stomach was upset from the Gu I'd taken during 8. I decided that the finish was as close as anything and got over it, turning in a 6:43 for 9. From there, I alternated between celebrating the finish and dreading the hill at 12.

A surprise wind around 11 was unpleasant, chilling the cup of water I inadvertently dumped on my singlet. Miles 10, 11 and 12 were 6:38, 6:39 and 6:39, which took considerable effort despite what those splits suggest. Then came the hill. Although we had run it during the warm up, and although I tend to be strong on hills, I was no happy camper while trucking up the hill. There were a few women around who were in the open class that I needed to pass, but my normal ponytail drive was focused almost entirely on just surviving the hill without stepping in a pothole. Mile 13 was a 6:52. Despite wanting to drop it for the finish, I settled for forward motion and turned in the last .2 (guess I wasn't running tangents...) in a 6:00 pace. My gun time was 1:28, chip time of 1:27:51.

After 30 seconds of feeling like shit (and looking like it, apparently, as the race volunteer wouldn't let me go), my all systems check suggested that things were fine, and I headed to the fence to cheer and cool-down. My post-race routine was not optimal;  the food included clam chowder or fish sandwiches, neither of which I eat out of fear of accidentally consuming seafood. Instead, I ate pretzels and drank beer. A lot of beer. I paid for it Monday through Thursday, when stairs were not my friend. Just clicked off an 18, though, so I don't think the beer permanently harmed me.

All in all, it was a good confidence builder. I went out slowly, ran a smart strategic race and didn't have much left, as the picture below demonstrates. Don't mess with me in a dark alley...

Courtesy of Justin Ryea

Wordless Wednesday: Count to 10 and you'll be done...

Many thanks to RunVermont for capturing this beauty of a race photo...

Race Report: RunVermont First Run (aka why I hate the 5K)

5Ks bring a special kind of pain. Unlike the marathon, which feels easy until about mile 20, the 5K hurts at the start, in the middle and at the end. Badly. As a result, I am happy to announce that I survived the First Run 5K with only a little vomit (not my own), fleeting discomfort and a hissy fit that only lasted through my cool-down.

We had bizarre weather this weekend. New Year's typically finds us firmly below zero, but highs on Saturday were close to 50, beautiful weather for a race.  At the start, many of us remarked that we weren't even slightly cold in tee shirts and shorts. Those in costume were almost definitely overheated. (My personal awards?  The two-women bobsled teams, the Gingerbread Man and Spiderman, whom I suspect ran the entire race in character).

I am a terrible short distance runner, so didn't have great expectations, especially coming off a stomach bug and fueled primarily by cookies and brie.  I resigned myself to the simple goals of survival and a smart race and went 1 for 2.

I started way too fast, ticking off the first mile somewhere around 6:10, totally inappropriate for my current fitness. Per usual, I got distracted during the second mile and my pace dropped precipitously. Even other ponytails passing me failed to kick me into gear. I hit the second mile around 13:20. I did manage to collect myself in the third mile, finishing in 20:03.  My prize for finishing?  Vomit down the back of my legs, courtesy of the runner behind me, second worst chute experience ever.

Lessons learned?  Don't get pulled along in a hard start. Work more on turnover. Run more 5Ks so they hurt less and you finally figure out how to pace. Brie and cookies are not great running fuel.

Congrats to all 600 some runners who kicked off the New Year in style.

Run On
~S

Auld Lang Syne

Somehow, today is the last day of 2010.  Today is a day when everyone finds themselves a tad more introspective, filled with both regret and the anticipation of a fresh start.  Tomorrow morning, we make promises that perhaps we can't keep, but that for at least a few weeks, we believe we can achieve.

2010 was not my banner year.  I started off strongly, then found myself seriously derailed by compartment syndrome.  From the "easy" surgery to the extremely long recovery, 2010 was a wash of a running year, at least on paper.  However, I wouldn't completely erase the experience.  I learned a lot about patience, about why other people run and that time really does heal all wounds. I ran my first ultra-distance, joined a dear friend completing her first half marathon and raced my first half marathon back with good results. 

I have big goals for 2011.  I want a PR in Boston. I want to become confident in my running. To do this, I first need to get over the fact that it's cold, dark and slippery and get my butt out the door. I want to build back up to my regular mileage around 60 miles per week. I also need to continue to work on core strength and strength training. To improve my confidence, I am going to take advantage of almost every race I can find. Even if I use the race as a tempo run, every time I toe a start line, I learn how to manage my nerves and focus on a particular pace.

What are your goals for 2011?  How will you get there?  Are you being realistic or a bit on the overenthusiastic side?

Happy New Year
~S

Race Report: Roxbury Half Marathon

Short Version: I broke (almost) every race week rule and still managed to pull out a win and decent run on a course that a) wasn't marked b) was more like 14 miles and c) had some um, interesting timing (As of writing this, our times are all about 20 minutes slower than we actually ran). I managed to do the last 3 something miles at around a 6:00 mile pace, which was a huge success and feel that overall, I ran my first truly smart race. It isn't a course I'd recommend to a runner who needs more than a start/finish line and a wristwatch, but for me, it was as good a comeback race as I could ask for.

Overall 7th
Women 1st
Time 1:37:xx?
Distance: 13.8 (we think)

Long Version:
Race Week: I was an epic disaster. I went out Thursday night for an event and had too much wine, so I didn't sleep well and was dehydrated going into Friday.  Early Friday morning, we had McDonald's breakfast (I did oatmeal, but still) and headed to CT. Upon arriving at the hotel, I realized that I had no Body Glide and two pair of socks, both with significant holes. We went out to the course to check it out, then attempted to find a place to eat dinner and settled on Don Julio's Italian. Despite having strong reading comprehension skills, I managed to end up with a battered chicken on a bed of arugula instead of the chicken parm I thought I was getting.  So much for eating some carbohydrates. I slept well from about 10 until 2 on Friday night, then fitfully until the alarm rang at 6:15. I attempted some French Toast at breakfast but was anxious, so only got in a couple of bites and some water.

Course: The course was beautiful and also one of the hilliest that I have ever run.  About 60/40 dirt to pavement, it was kind on the legs.  There were a set of screaming downhills, followed by grinding uphills and there wasn't much flat to be found.  Markings proved to be the biggest issue.  Despite the RD telling us that the pavement was marked, almost no runner ran the same course. The group I was with ended up doing about 13.8 miles after a missed turnaround on the first leg.

Race:  After a ten minute warm up, I stripped down to my race outfit.  It was only about 20, so I opted to keep my jacket on, despite knowing I would need to shed it later. It made it until mile 4. We herded over to the start line a little before 8:30. Unfortunately, the start didn't go off until about 8:50, giving us plenty of time to get cold and grumpy.  Somehow, during this wait, my nerves subsided.  When the start went off, I was relaxed and ready to run my own race.

Mile 1: I used the first mile to settle into a pace and warm-up and came through the first mile in about 7:30. 
Miles 2 through 7: For the first time ever, I ran with a pack.  A group of men joined me right around 1 mile and instead of letting them pass me, I worked with them over the next 5 miles. We talked a little and one of the local runners told me more about the area, which was a great distraction. I took a Gu as I was starting to feel the week of terrible eating.
Miles 7 through 10: After a mix-up at the turnaround, we were back on the loop, where no more course mistakes could be made.  I decided to break free of the pack because the pace felt too comfortable.  I came through the 10 mile at 1:16, about a 7:36 pace, and decided it was time to work. From here until the end, I was alone.
Miles 10 through Finish: This section started with a grinding uphill section and I was definitely feeling the earlier hills.  I worked on maintaining good posture and turnover and just kept telling myself to leave it out on the course. My work paid off and I came through the finish just after 1:37, meaning that I geared down to somewhere around 6 minutes per mile.

For the first time ever, I was happy with a race performance.  I couldn't have given much more than I did and I ran a patient, smart race. I started to trust the benefit of working in a pack and it is something I hope to explore more in Boston and beyond. 

Grumpy Me at the Start Line, rocking some Carolina blue tights.

I'll post some race pictures when they are available.  They are sure to be a doozy, with both happening on big climbs.

Run On. ~S

What makes the dawn come up like thunder? Courage!

I am the Cowardly Lion of running. There, I said it. This is neither breaking news nor a surprise, but like most character flaws, hard to admit to yourself and others.

Even before surgery, I avoided racing  (and speed work) because it was more comfortable to not know how fast (or slow) I was, an extension of the "if a tree falls in the forest" logic. After surgery, I've used recovery as a crutch.  My surgery was on April 7th. I started running again in earnest in September.  It's now December and I'm still jogging along. Part of that is that I am still in some pain.  A bigger part of that is that I'm afraid to find out what happens when I start pushing it again.

What if I never run fast again?  What if I never reach my goals in the marathon? What if I never PR?  Alternatively, what if I am recovered and ready to run fast in Boston? Am I ready to plunge back into training, putting hours a day into running?

In deciding to run this half marathon next weekend, I find myself panicked. I recognize the need to push myself and the benefit of assessing my current speed. But what if I fail?  I've had a few quality workouts in the past couple of weeks.  I comfortably held estimated race pace for 4 miles on the treadmill. I ran a set of three minute 800s and am still walking. I slogged through 14 miles in snow and wind (okay, not quality, but a good character builder).  Still, I am not prepared to confront the truth revealed by a real-life race.

The bigger question is, who cares? I assume that people will not like me less if I don't have a great race. I would guess that the readership of this blog (which, from the Google Stats, is alarmingly high) won't decrease if I blow up. So who does care? At the end of the day, it's probably only me. In all honesty, I'm never happy after a race even if it does go well. I am notorious for finishing a race and shrugging off congratulations with a litany of things I could have done differently.

So, how do you find courage? How do you push through doubt to give it a try? What confidence builders get you to the starting line?

Run on.
~S

Persistence

"Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan 'Press On' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race." (C.Coolidge)

This quote hangs in my parent's house.  In my lifetime, I've read it hundreds of times and trust me when I say that it has been woven into my moral fabric. I won't get into to the other ways in which this quote has altered the course of my life and why I think Coolidge was partially wrong (meritocracy is a myth, in short), but persistence frames my life as a runner.

As demonstrated last weekend, I do not want for persistence and determination; I slogged through 30 miles on a 1.25 mile loop course and wasn't bored to tears or resignation. Sometimes, however, I wonder if I lack the talent to reach the next level with running.  Perhaps a remnant of a high school career wrought with confidence issues, I consistently battle myself over whether or not this is worth it if I never run a 2:40 marathon. The kind part of my brain, the part that praised me for my tenacity and strength during last Saturday's run, tells me that I don't have a lot of racing experience and that in time, this will all click together.  The nasty, cruel part of my mind, however, tells me that it is because I don't work hard enough, because I don't want it enough and because I lack the talent for it. (Apparently I am not alone in this) And herein lies the problem.

I've enjoyed exceptional success in other parts of my life as a result of persistence. I graduated summa cum laude and was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa.  I've received awards and fellowships for my scholastic endeavors. I continue to have many opportunities to be a co-author in prominent print, despite my youth and lack of a PhD. So what is holding me back from similar success in running?

Last winter, I popped out of bed every morning before 5 a.m. to hammer out a hard workout before work. It should be noted that my job at the time was the job from hell and required me to drink copious glasses of wine post-work to manage, thus negating the option of running after work. Sure, I occasionally missed a workout, but in reviewing my running log from those months, I was a pretty consistent machine. Now, I can barely summon myself out of bed in the morning to get to work on time (new job, no wine needed), let alone do a 12 mile run beforehand. I have always taken my persistence for granted, so to suddenly have that hallmark of my personality wane perturbs me as much as questions about my talent.

Since surgery, I regretfully admit a sense of hopelessness. Despite making huge strides since April and especially this fall, I still wonder if I will ever bounce back.  I have one or two good runs a week now, but spend the remaining four feeling sluggish and out of shape. This beats the crap out of my motivation and I suspect keeps me anchored to my bed in the morning.  I make up most of my runs in the evening after work, but out of a sense of duty, not inspiration. I long for a day when the alarm rings and I don't snooze it for an hour and a half.
 

Thus, Coolidge's quote haunts me. What if I am a runner who works her butt off, without realizing that talent is the limiting factor in her success? What if my marathon PR never goes below 2:40 or 3 hours? As I'm out on the roads this weekend and as I ramp up for Boston, Silent Cal's words will echo through my head, but only time will tell if talent plus persistence will come to fruition for me.

The Diva's Half Marathon

Despite a rocky start (sitting in traffic for over an hour, missing the race start because they didn't hold the race for the 2000 people in traffic etc), my girls and I had a fabulous time in the Diva's half marathon.  For Lindsey, it was her first (and allegedly only) half marathon.  For me, it was a completely different perspective on a race.  A normal race morning for me finds me a bundle of nerves, reviewing strategy until the gun goes off.  When the gun went off last Sunday, we were facing the wrong direction and not even in the corral.  While I'll admit to being perturbed, it waned when I realized that my start (nor my middle, nor my finish) didn't matter.  We were here to run with Lindsey and enjoy the ride.

Enjoy it we did.  I have never been part of the pack.  Even in Las Vegas, the pack thinned quickly and I spent miles 10 through 26 essentially alone. Last weekend, however, we were surrounded.  We chatted up other groups, inevitably curious about our costumes, danced when there was music around and stopped to take pictures mid-race.  I took a bathroom break, walked through water stops and hurdled the occasional pylon.  I had a blast. The picture below is from the Mile 12 tiara and boa stop.  As you can tell, I'm taking things very seriously. (The song was Vogue.)

So what do I take away from the experience?  Anyone who has been around me on race day knows that I am legitimately no fun.  If I talk at all, it's harsh and I am so nervous I often vomit. Delightful, I know. Did this race change all of that?  Of course not.  What it did remind me is that running should be fun and that there are always other races.  It also helped me realize that I want to be racing again and that I have a lot of work to do this fall. 

Other lessons?  Don't run with a boa.  They smell terrible and are hard to breathe through.

The 10 Week Itch

At just past 10 weeks post-op, I'm back to working out 5 to 6 days a week, running 3 days a week with about 25 minutes of running at a time.  It's a far cry from "normal" for me, but there's certainly a light at the end of the tunnel.  Because I have to build up carefully, I am doing far more cross-training than I ever have before.  Thankfully, I have a great road bike that doesn't limit me to indoor cross training.  I switched back to flat pedals before surgery because the motion of clipping in and out (for those that don't ride, to clip out, you have to twist your foot to the side) was too painful.  Post-surgery, my ankle is to weak to get out efficiently, and the last thing I need is to do a slow-tip.  Although this limits how hard I can ride, I've been able to get out for 20 to 30 mile rides a few days a week.  It always amazes me how gentle biking can be on the body compared to running.  A 20 mile run is a production; a 20 mile ride can happen before work with no problem.

I'm finally starting to plan my return to racing.  To give myself adequate time to rebuild and to take the pressure off of myself for the fall, I've decided to not race a full until January or February.  I am planning on running a full with friends at a training pace for fun in October, pacing a friend through her first half in November and racing a half somewhere this fall to begin to test my fitness.  Beyond that, I am only planning on racing 5K or 10K races for speed work and a good test of fitness and progress. This gives me 3 solid months of base building before I head back into a training cycle. Once I race in January, I go to Boston and then (hopefully) to seek revenge on Vermont City. 

This next year brings considerable challenges in terms of balancing training, work and coursework.  I am preparing to go back to school to be a Physician Assistant (with an Orthopaedic Surgical focus of course :)) and am taking the requisite sciences to achieve that, working full time in Research and planning to support a 60 to 70 mile per week mileage base. This fall in particular will likely be a serious test of time management.  I suspect that I will become a recluse, running in the mornings and at lunch, and residing in the library at night.  I am committed, however to trying to maintain some strength and yoga work as well.  We'll see what has to give when fantasy meets reality in the fall...