Brunch Run Recap

13 Monday May 2013

Posted by in Race Recaps, Running

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Spoiler One: Yes, I PR’d.

Spoiler Two: No, I did not puke.

Okay, now that we have that out of the way, let me start by saying that the Brunch Run was everything I wanted it to be. It was so low-key, but well-organized. It felt like a small-town race (450 runners), but in the middle of the big-name greenspace (Piedmont Park) in a major metropolitan area (Atlanta, of course). The start line was scrawled on the pavement and the course volunteers were (among others) the race directors themselves. At the end, most everyone stayed and lounged on the grass, enjoying coffee (in our new race mugs!) and breakfast, and even moving en masse to participate in the awards ceremony and raffle. That doesn’t happen at the races I’m used to in Atlanta. It was really the perfect start to a spring morning. I definitely want to be back for it next year.

So, the recap.

My sister’s registration to the race was my gift to her for her 40th birthday. She and my BIL were running, and Katie agreed to pace me to a PR. That left my husband watching the kids–not a big deal since we were in a park and they were pretty happy just running around. We met up with Melissa from My Peach Life, who warmed up with us and hung out with us afterward.

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My sister and me before the race–she actually cut her 5k time by a full five minutes since November, through training and a major diet overhaul. Not a bad way to start a birthday!

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Melissa and me trying to figure out which camera to smile for. So much paparazzi when you are a blogger! ;)

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There. Got the right one this time.

Katie and I headed to the start line, and an a capella group from Emory sang the National Anthem. It was one of the most beautiful renditions I’ve heard–I don’t normally get emotional at the National Anthem but I actually got a tiny bit verklempt. Didn’t last long, though, because we were off.

Oh, were we off. The plan was 8:22, 8:15, 8:10 for our miles, with a push at the end. But we also talked about being a little more aggressive. Well, I was all excited like a new little runner bunny and I went out waaaay too fast. I will say, I felt great the first mile. Stupid, stupid. Never run faster when you’re feeling great. Never run that much faster than The Plan.

I realized this at 1.5  miles when, as predicted, I wanted to die. Everything in me felt tense. I was pretty sure by this point that my goal (25:xx) had slipped away. My hip flexors were very tight, but I was expending a lot of mental energy telling my shoulders to come down from ear-level, and I even felt tension, more than the usual amount of tension, in my core. My legs just felt slow and sad. Katie named a couple of people to pick off in front of us, and so we did. Finally as we came into the last mile she picked one more woman for us to pick off, but I just couldn’t do it. Katie told me to dig, but I didn’t have the energy to tell her I felt like I already was. By the time the last song on my playlist came on, I was getting the tunnel vision that I get when my blood sugar is low. I could tell we would even be tight to make it for a PR (sub 26:59). The last .25 was uphill but I managed to push it for the last .1.

Official time was 26:32, which is a PR by 27 seconds. As many have said, “It is always good when you can run faster than you have ever run before.” That is true, and I’m trying to remind myself of that.

Here’s the thing: I could blame not making my original A goal (sub 25), and my revised B goal (sub 26) on a lot of things: it was hot, I didn’t stretch out my hip flexors, I needed sugar, blah blah blah.

But the truth is, I got the PR that I trained for. I haven’t been training like I should. I took a lot of time off real training after the marathon. I couldn’t decide if this 5k, the Soldier Field 10-miler, or Ragnar Chicago was my goal race, so I just didn’t really train hard for any of them. My mileage has been low. I haven’t been to the track since March. I did do speed work but it was on the treadmill and was a bit haphazard.

I’m glad for the PR but I’m more thankful for the good kick in the pants for my training. The Summer of Speed is here. If you need me, you can find me at the track.

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Katie and Me coming in to the finish. So thankful for her, and for my kids cheering us on, in the foreground.

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coffee, breakfast burrito, my foot.

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GIVE US ALL THE COFFEE AND BREAKFAST FOODSTUFFS

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I never see big groups hang out for awards like this. Such a cool event.

Lime Tree Yoga had a short session after the race. Needed this.

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Did you know I do more than run? I love to cook so here’s a pic of what I made my sister for dinner that night: filet with herb butter, roasted asparagus, watermelon-tomato salad with chili vinaigrette, and berries, goat cheese, and balsamic on field greens. Happy birthday to my sister!

Prepare-to-Puke Playlist

10 Friday May 2013

Posted by in Goals, Playlists, Running, Things That Hurt

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Tomorrow I’m off to the Brunch Run to A) Eat bacon and B) Acquire a new PR. My original goal was to break 25 minutes, but I honestly have not put the work in to do that. Of that, I am not proud.

cone of shame

However, sub-26 (a big PR) is certainly within my grasp. Katie has even agreed to pace me through it. Now, I just have to want this PR pretty bad. How bad?

Bad enough to focus.

Bad enough to hurt.

Bad enough to puke.

That’s right. I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that 5k’s are just… always… hard. And in the words of my friend Tim, you really should be hurting within two minutes of starting one. So, I’m readying myself for a goal that is in reach, with a high level of discomfort. I’m not saying puking is definitely in the cards tomorrow. I’m just saying I need to be prepared for the possibility if this is actually a goal I want to achieve, and if, frankly, I want to continue to better my 5k times (which I really, really do).

And so, I present to you my Prepare to Puke Playlist. It’s approximately 26:45 so it should get me well over the finish line, possibly even providing some musical accompaniment for the predicted wretching.

1. Where the Streets Have No Name, U2. There’s no better tune to get you pumped up for the start of a race. It’s epic. EPIC I SAY.

2. Beat It, Michael Jackson. Do I really need to explain this one? “Show ‘em how funky, strong is your FIGHT.”

3. Everybody Have Fun Tonight, Wang Cheung. This one makes my feet move, and I think there’s something there in the subtle irony of talking about having fun when I’m already hurting at mile 1.5.

4. Stayin’ Alive, The Bee Gees. By this point I suspect I shall want to lay down and die. This song will be motivation to… you got it… stay alive. Stay in my race.

5. Good Time, Owl City. This one always makes me think of Ragnar, which are the fun races I reward myself with after all the hard work of the rest of the year. It makes me smile and think happy thoughts. I’m hoping it will distract me from the pain.

6. My Body, Young the Giant. I’m late to the party on this song, as I just discovered it a couple of weeks ago. (Shout out to Jenny and Andrea, who introduced me to this song through their Nuun Hood to Coast videos.) It’s perfect for an end-of-race push–”My body tells me nooooooooo! But! I won’t quit! ‘Cause I want more!!!”

So, that’s my playlist for tomorrow. If you need puke-preparation, feel free to use these songs. Wish me luck. And at least if I puke, there’ll be more room for bacon, right? Right?

“I Can’t Just Walk Away”: Thoughts on a BQ Effort Gone Bust

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by in Goals, Marathon Training, Race Recaps

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Note from Lindsay: Yesterday I wrote about my experience spectating, cheering, and pacing my friend Katie’s attempt at a Boston Qualifying time at the Wisconsin Marathon. These are Katie’s thoughts, 48 hours after a disappointing (for her) finish at the race. Anyone who has hit the wall, or who dreads hitting the wall, will find something here that may help you in the future. In her words:

Katie and me before Rock n Roll USA 2012.

Katie and me before Rock n Roll USA 2012.

In the past 14 months, I have run 3 marathons, (3:57, 3;43, 3:53).  In each race, I experienced the same dreaded end-of-race fade.  Of course, it was the wall.  Everyone talks about the wall.  There are so many reasons for hitting the wall: nutritional, physical, mental.  But in all my reading and researching and geeking out with other runners, I never bothered to ponder and never bothered to ask the question: “What happens after you hit the wall?”   I am not exactly sure where to go from here:  could it be that I need to look at a very different pacing strategy?  Do I need to look at alternate strategies for fueling?  Or does it mean that I am just not capable of a Boston Qualifying performance?  Will I forever be wishing that a marathon ended at mile 23?

This past Saturday, I kept such a close eye on running even, easy splits, staying calm, hydrating regularly, fueling early. My dear friends Lindsay and Kristiana even drove the ENTIRE course the day before this race so that I would  have an idea of what to expect: hills, road conditions, gravel road portions, stretches of the course which appeared a little more remote and would likely have very little crowd support.

I have to wonder how much of this fade at the end is mental: when I had one mile that was off pace by 15 seconds, I didn’t give up. I can vividly recall wanting to just lie down on the side of the road in the final miles 7 or 8 of the Myrtle Beach marathon in February.  My body just felt exhausted, and my feet just hurt.

This time, my feet didn’t hurt, and I certainly didn’t want to lie down.  I had one mile where my pace slipped by 15 seconds.  I had enough cognitive ability to know that even if I could hold that pace until the end, that I would still have a qualifying time.  Easy math: 15 seconds x 5 miles is only a just over a minute slower than I wanted.  My mind was sharp and I just hit the gas a little bit more.

But then I turned into the wind, going uphill. And because we had driven the course the day before, I knew very well that I would keep running this direction until just before the finish.  The wind wasn’t going to end.  I didn’t remember the hill.  And when I turned around, it looked like the road I had just climbed up was also going uphill.  How could that be?  I kept giving myself surges to push faster.  I have trained for this.

The mental strength that I gained from the 9 x 1 mile at 30 seconds faster than marathon pace workouts?  This is when I needed it. I thought about those workouts. I thought about the 25 miler that ended with a fast finish which I accidentally routed UP a massive Atlanta hill, but still maintained an 8:10 pace. I needed that right now.  And then, something just broke inside me. And my legs stopped going as fast as they were.  And the pushing that I was doing to keep the pace that was going to get me in a 1:15 slower overall?  That effort level was giving me a per mile pace that was 30 seconds off my goal pace, and then 50 seconds off my goal pace.  And then I started throwing up.

My friend Lindsay jumped in at mile 23, and I started to vomit more.  This was not puke-your-guts-out after a hard track effort vomit; it was a foamy, energy gel spit up.

This happened to me once in Myrtle Beach. I had a bit of vomit in my mouth.  But then it didn’t happen again.

But now it kept happening.  I slowed down to walk, and each time I started up again, I would throw up some more.  I started to feel woozy and dizzy.  Later, Lindsay later told me that I was weaving instead of running in a straight path. When Lindsay talked to me, I had trouble answering her, but it wasn’t because I was going so fast.  I was able to talk to people a little earlier in the race, at miles 14, 15, and 16, when I was racing at the right pace.

I took some Gatorade from an aid station (I thought that maybe I needed some more electrolytes) at some point during after mile 23, and it came right back up a few minutes later.

At some point I thought: “what if I really hurt myself trying to do this?”.  And instead of vomiting and running the whole thing in, I just slowed to a walking pace for the last mile, and ran in the last 0.2.

It is hard for me to not feel really disappointed right now, especially because I just felt so strong and ready.  I didn’t hit the wall so tragically during training in the 23 and 25 milers.  I felt a little exhausted towards the end of those, but I was able to push through that and really finish strong.  But during all those training runs, I had to take breaks for stoplights, and to refill my water bottles.  I wonder if these little breaks in running allowed me recover just enough to not have a big bonk at the end.

My husband asked me how I was feeling, and I told him I felt devastated and ashamed.  He told me that I had every right to feel sad, maybe even devastated, but not for long.  And I had no right to feel ashamed.

It is easy to get caught up in the concept that if you put in the work, you will always get results.  But, that is not always the case.  That is why you show up on race day and race, instead of just being handed a medal.  And the marathon is, in its simplest form, a beast that is not easy to tame.  Every time you toe the line at a marathon, the possibility of failure looms large.  No one is guaranteed a great day of racing, fueling, hydrating, pacing, staying mentally focused.  It is a challenge.

No, I am not ashamed.  I did take a risk.  My day was not Saturday.  While I was at the medical tent being checked over (I am sincerely thankful for having such loving friends at the finish line to propel my stumbling self over to medical) I looked Kristiana and Lindsay in the eye and said my typical refrain about 10 minutes after finishing a marathon: “I am never, ever (!!) doing one of these again!”.

But the lure of qualifying for Boston is there for me.  It’s a goal that I have talked about in front my children, my friends, my parents.  I can’t just walk away after a measly two tries.  What sort of example does that set to them?  How does that affect my own self esteem?

It may be another year or more, but I will come back to this goal.  I’ll spend some time laying down an even stronger base of fitness before I begin another marathon training cycle.  I also need to spend time building up all the other things that began to be neglected.  My family needs me to step out of the season of marathon training and come back to a more attentive, present state in our home.  There is, after all,  a race we are all running that needs a lot more endurance than the one I ran on Saturday.

Splits:

1. 8:16
2. 8:08
3. 8:13
4. 8:15
5. 8:12
6. 8:13
7. 8:17
8. 8:12
9. 8:14
10.8:12
11. 8:13
12. 8:13
13. 8:11
14. 8:17
15. 8:16
16. 8:16
17. 8:17
18. 8:16
19. 8:19
20. 8:23 (this is where running into the wind off the lake was starting to mess with my head)
21. 8:33
22. 8:40
23. 8:57
24. 11:50  (this is where I started vomiting)
25. 10:10
26.  15:32 (walked and vomited probably 8 or 10 times)

Wisconsin Marathon Runcation Report

07 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by in Cheering, Friendship, Goals, Runcation, Running

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Ah, Wisconsin. I love ya.

This marks the first time in three years that I attended the Wisconsin Marathon but didn’t run it (the half, anyway). Back in January, I had decided to forego it in lieu of running the Soldier Field 10-miler in late May, with my sister and Kristiana. I knew I’d miss it but figured I’d deal. However, after my dear friend Katie narrowly missed qualifying for Boston in February at Myrtle Beach, it came up again as an option for another try for her, and ended up being the race she decided on. Since I know the course (half of it, anyway) and the area, and since I love a good runcation, I quickly volunteered to go with her for race support, and to drag Kristiana (who got me into running in the first place) along for the ride.

We flew into Chicago on Friday morning and picked up Kristiana at her (amazing, 39th floor) place before heading straight for Kenosha. I was super duper (hi, i’m in 3rd grade) excited to show Katie so much of the Upper Midwest that I adore so we immediately started packing everything we could into the trip. We stopped first at the Lake Forest Oasis, because they just don’t build large rest stop/gas station/Starbucks combos over the interstate in Georgia. I went with a risky choice for lunch–chicken kebabs from a no-name Greek place and enjoyed them with a view of… cars.

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Katie and Jake

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The Blues Brothers and Me.

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Chicago was dreary Friday. But still beautiful.

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Kebabs. On the Interstate.

We crossed the border into Wisconsin and headed toward packet pickup. Just off the interstate, we saw the Jelly Belly factory and store and stopped in to get goodies for children: Jelly-Belly Uno games and toasted marshmallow jelly beans. I also picked up some very strangely colored “Irregular” Jelly Belly Sport Beans for a little bit of nothing. Jelly beans. This trip was already going well.

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Tourists. Jelly Belly Tourists.

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Jelly beans

Packet pickup for this thing was short and sweet, one of the things I love about this race. It took about 7 minutes total. Then we drove the course, so Katie would know what to expect, and since I wanted to see the other half of it. After that, it was off to the hotel to settle in and get dinner. We ate at the restaurant in our hotel, The Chancery, which is a local chain that has a lot of Wisconsin specialties–five cheese French onion soup, cheese curds, and lots of beef. Kristiana and I both got a grass-fed Angus burger, no bun, with sweet potato tots, and man, it was good. Katie got -shocker- pasta, and should you choose to eat at The Chancery before this race, you should know that the portion sizes are smallish, so order a large. After dinner we hit up Walgreens for some toiletries and poster board and then went back to get Katie race-ready. I snuck in my mile to continue my run streak, made some signs, and then put Katie’s name on her shirt with KT Tape so she’d have support when Kristiana and I weren’t around. Then it was lights out in preparation for a 5AM wakeup call.

The race was on May 4th. Get it?

The race was on May 4th. Get it?

The next morning went smoothly and we were at the race start by 6:20. Katie warmed up and Kristiana and I found Kim, who is a fellow Nuun Hood to Coast teammate this year. She was ready to go for a PR in the 1/2 marathon but sweetly met up with me and we had a few minutes to chat. I loved getting to meet another of the ladies that I’ll be running with in August.

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Kim and me! Next time I see her we’ll be ready to run HTC!

Soon it was time for Katie to get in her corral and we walked her toward the start. The race lets people wearing cheese-related apparel into the first “corral” (truth be told, there are no corrals in this race, just a self-seeded start) and so it was fun to get a chance to see that, for once, since I wasn’t lined up behind them. After a moment of silence for Boston, a round of applause for the first-responders, and the National Anthem, they were off. I started my Garmin as I watched Katie cross the mats, rang the cowbell a few times, and then headed for the Harborside Coffeehouse. With a 7AM start in May, it was pretty chilly at the start, and coffee is always good. Plus, the coffee shop sits at the 4.5-mile and 11-mile mark for both the 1/2 and the full, so it’s a great place to cheer without having to be terribly mobile.

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Cheese runners.

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That’s Katie in fluorescent yellow hat the middle of the picture.

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The view of the lake near the coffeehouse.

We got coffee and watched the leaders go by. Actor Mark Ruffalo is from Kenosha, and his brother Andy is usually in the top two finishers for the Wisconsin Marathon Half. So if you’re watching the leaders in the race, you get to see the sibling of a famous person. Hey, hey!

Soon it was 7:30 and we went outside to watch for Katie. She came through looking strong and we held up our signs and yelled and yelled. Then we kept cheering for a bit, until we saw my friend Angie come by, and Kim too. We had made double-sided signs–one side just for Katie and the other for everyone else, and so we spread some good cheer around until we got cold and holed up in the coffeeshop again.

Kristiana and I had a few minutes to visit before Katie came back through at mile 11. She was perfectly on pace, looking strong and as happy as I’ve seen her look when she’s focused (one of her great strengths is race focus, in my opinion). After she passed, Kristiana and I headed to the car to shed some layers since we both had some running of our own to do. Kristiana is in the early stages of planning for the Paris 10-miler (illness set aside her plans to do Soldier Field, unfortunately) and was going to do 5 miles before heading to the finish to watch for Katie. My job, was to get myself to mile 23 to try and run Katie in the last part of the race. I say try because her planned pace (8:15) would mean that 3.2 miles would be major PR pace for me. I’d been training for it, but I was nervous.

I used the 3 mile distance between downtown and the 23-mile mark as a nice, long warmup. I’ve run in this part of Wisconsin many times, while visiting friends, running this race, and doing Ragnar Chicago. I just love it. Scenic and flat, and particularly when the weather is nice, there’s just no place nicer.

I got to the mile 23 mark with about 15 minutes to spare so I cheered and yelled for the runners. Saw my friend Tracy’s husband Jon, who I wasn’t expecting and who I’m sure had NO clue who I was, but I hollered for him anyway. ‘Cause that’s what I do!

I saw Katie round the corner about .25 away, and yelled really loud and cheerleader kicked for her. As she came closer I realized my cheering time had taken its toll on my warmup, and that I needed a little head start to work up to her pace. I started to run as she came toward me. My Garmin was not giving me pace info–something about having the time on it run for so long when we weren’t moving at the start seemed to make it not want to give me a pace when I was moving. So I have no real idea how fast I was going. I can run 9:00 miles and 10:00 miles by feel. Faster than 9:00 miles and I don’t really know how fast I’m going. But it seemed like it was taking her longer to get to me than it should have. So I slowed.

She caught me quickly after that but as soon as I saw her, I could tell things were not good. She has agreed to write a blog post about the race that I’ll post later this week. We had not gone but about .5 when she tearfully said, “Not today, Lindsay. Not today.” I am rarely without words but I was not prepared to hear that. That’s how well-trained she was. I’d watched her training logs on Daily Mile. I’d seen her run. There had not been a doubt in my mind that she would get this BQ done. So, I wracked my brain for the right words. I worked on being encouraging to her regarding finishing, without being so over-the-top Pollyanna that she would want to punch me.

The last 3.2 miles were very hard for her. I’m so proud of her for finishing that race. I was very worried about her and honestly wouldn’t have blamed her a bit for walking off that course. Something went wrong, and while that is frustrating, I think the hardest thing for her, and even me, to deal with is that no one is quite sure *what* went wrong. I know that is the nature of the marathon. All the planning and training in the world can’t guarantee a race of that distance will go smoothly.

For better or for worse, we made it to the finish line. I had not planned to cross the finish line with her, but obviously plans changed on a number of levels, and I couldn’t leave her alone. We got her medal, foil, and food, and I took her to Medical. I wasn’t sure if it was necessary, but I have also been close enough to nutrition and dehydration situations to know that I’d feel better if she got checked out before we went on our way that day. I couldn’t return her to her husband and kids broken!

Thankfully, medical cleared her pretty quickly, and she was even smiling about 15 minutes later. There were tears in there, too, but she seemed herself again (make no mistake, unlike baseball, there is ALWAYS crying in the marathon). It’s always cold after this race–the finish line is right up on the lakefront, and the wind can be fierce. We headed toward the car pretty quickly.

Friends nearby in Racine welcomed us into their homes for showers and scones, and then for lunch. We spent the rest of the afternoon with them, and it was relaxing. After loading up the car with Kringle from O & H and cheese curds from the Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha, we headed back to Chicago. We grabbed dinner from the Lincoln Park Whole Foods–third largest in the country, with far more . We ate and went to bed. I know, it’s a wild life we live.

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This pretty much sums up how happy the Wisconsin Marathon makes me.

Cheesiness in front of the Cheese Castle.

Cheesiness in front of the Cheese Castle.

Sunday morning Katie and I went for a recovery run by the lake. We shuffled through three miles and then did some good stretching before heading to the ‘burbs to worship with my parents and model the latest in runner fashion: Katie’s compression socks under a maxi-dress combo. It was so good to see my parents. After church we went to Portillo’s to have lunch, and Katie got to have her first Chicago dog. We also made a quick stop by Naperville Running Company, where I found a special-edition Oiselle tee and some cherry-limeade Nuun, while Katie and Kristiana both got fitted for new shoes. I think Katie also got to have some good race analysis with the awesome gentleman fitting her. Thank, NRC!

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Runcation Breakfast Perfection: eggs, guac, bacon, Kringle, Starbucks. With my favorite city in the background.

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Chicago Dog.

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This shirt is as soft as it is adorable. And that Nuun stuff is pretty good too, you know.

All that was left then was to come home. We’d pretty much done as much stuff as three runners can do in 52 hours or so. The “A” Goal of getting Katie to Boston was not achieved. But the goal of having a great time? That was met in spades. Another runcation success, in the books.

Cheese Curds and Badgers and Kringle, Oh My!

02 Thursday May 2013

Posted by in Friendship, Races, Running, Self-Care

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Tomorrow Katie and I leave for the Great White North Wisconsin, with the aim being to secure her BQ on Saturday before we head back home.

I couldn’t be more excited.

Oh wait, yes I could.

You see, my foot hurts.

Two weeks ago I got a new pair of shoes out to start rotating them into my running cycle. It was the week of Boston, so I was angry and not thinking right, and running a lot. Instead of lacing them my usual wonky way (I normally skip a lot of the holes in the middle since the top of my foot is high), I just pulled them out of the box and ran.

How I normally lace my right shoe.

How I normally lace my right shoe.

Cue bruised right foot. Cue insanely tight left leg from overcompensating. Cue tons of cow-face pose, foam rolling, and painful massage to get the leg loosened up.

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This is pretty much how I spent the last 10 days. Hard to cook dinner this way, for the record.

And it did, loosen up, after a week of pain, last Sunday night. I can’t tell you with what delight I have been rolling my leg around and just relishing the feeling of it not hurting. Not unlike this:

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But the foot pain remains. I have actually considered seriously considered, for the first time in 234 days, breaking my run streak because of it. It HURTS. And it has definitely hurt my training for my plan to jump in with Katie at Mile 23 and run with her to the finish. I have been icing, Aleve-ing, and I even pulled out an old (but little used) pair of ASICS 2170s in hopes that a different lace pattern would help.

The good news: I did a 6-mile progression run Tuesday, ending with a mile slightly faster than her marathon goal pace. The faster I ran, the less my foot hurt. And I mean that honestly, it wasn’t just that I was more focused on the various other huffing-and-puffing pain I was feeling. ;) My body feels strong, so strong. It’s just a matter of the foot. And yes, I could push past the pain for 25 minutes. But I’ve got an insanely busy race schedule coming up that includes a Ragnar and Hood-to-Coast, and I’ve got other people relying on me to not be an idiot get there healthy. So, there’s that. Decisions to make.

But enough about me. Let’s talk about the midwest! We leave Atlanta at 8:45 tomorrow morning.

Morning goals:

1. Hydrate Katie in Atlanta and on flight. Bottled water and Nuun. Got it.

2. Feed the marathoner. Probably on touchdown at Midway.

3. Get rental car and pick up Kristiana. Drive to Kenosha. Stop at an Oasis so Katie can see what it’s like to buy Starbucks as you stand atop an interstate.

4. Go to packet pickup. Pick up packet. Drive course.

5. Check into hotel and sit down for a minute. Make some signs.

6. Procure Kringle and cheese curds for post-race celebration.

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Really trying to figure out a way to get one of these around Katie’s neck at the finish line. Photo courtesy roadfood.com

7. Feed the marathoner. Haven’t picked a spot for dinner yet.

8. Sleep. Get up. Cheer (at mile 4.5 and 11, AKA in front of the coffeehouse). Jump in and run. Maybe. If foot cooperates.

9. Post-race recovery for Katie. Including a nap.

10. Everything else we are going to do after we get back to Chicago, which may not be much and which, whatever it is, I shall update you with here, later.

Cheerio! Bon voyage! Cheese!

Feet, FOR REAL, don’t fail me now.

Happy Half-Marathon-Aversary!

27 Saturday Apr 2013

Posted by in Friendship, Races, Running

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Today marks three years since my first half-marathon. I traversed the hills of Nashville, beat the tornado of 2010, and got a big fat medal. And I was hooked.

Three years ago, I was sweating that race out both mentally and physically. I had so much to prove to myself. I didn’t necessarily prove it that day, but over time it’s become less important to ‘prove’ anything, and more important to just… run.

It’s funny, how big changes happen incrementally. The fun and challenging goal of completing a half-marathon has, over the last 1,100 days turned into a running lifestyle for our family.

I couldn’t be more thrilled about that change. It’s made me healthier and happier. I’m more patient, and more energetic. Running is my best alone time, and often also my best shared time–with my husband, my kids, my sister, my brother-in-law, and my friends.

See? Running with friends. What's not to love?

See? Running with friends. What’s not to love?

Happy Anniversary, Half-Marathon. I love you. Thanks for being awesome. I love to work hard for you, and I love how much you give back to me. No matter how many other distances I run, you’ll always have my heart, because you symbolize so much. Kiss kiss.

(PS This weekend is actually also the 12th anniversary of my fo’ real marriage to my incredibly supportive and amazing husband. Without him, I couldn’t run and race nearly as much. Thanks for kicking me out the door when my endorphins get too low, David. I love running… and life.. with you. Sniffle. Snerf.)

FAQ Friday: When Will it Stop Hurting?

26 Friday Apr 2013

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“Ask yourself: ‘Can I give more?’. The answer is usually: ‘Yes’.”
-Paul Tergat

I get this question a lot, in various forms: “When will running stop hurting?”

I totally get it. I have very vivid memories of being a new runner, suffering through countless hours of dragging my body slowly down the road and back home again, and thinking, “I hate this.” Very nearly getting out the door before I had to fight the urge to go back home and say “Forget it. Where are the brownies?”

It hurt. Running HURT.

As much as I hate to break it to you, after 4 years of dedicated running, thousands of miles, and truly falling in love with this beast, running still hurts.

But hear me out.

That pain has changed. At first, it was the pain of my overweight, undisciplined body fighting my mental desire to get out and run. But in a matter of weeks, there was less weight to pull against my willpower. More discipline, less fighting. It hurt, but it started to be worth it.

Later, I remember feeling like the front part of me was literally dragging my butt up the hill behind me. That was a unique blend of physical and emotional pain–daggers straight through my prideful heart.

But I also remember the first day I *didn’t* feel like that. It hurt, but there was progress in the pain.

And so I kept going. I remember the first time I realized I was getting faster, truly, markably faster. I was elated. I pushed harder, and so… it hurt. But I wanted it to.

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Me, a few minutes after my first half-marathon. I am on the ground because it… you guessed it… hurt. But IT WAS WORTH THE PAIN.

Running is not great because it’s easy. Running is great in part BECAUSE it hurts. And it may surprise you to know that it hurts even the elite athletes. Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher have both talked about how much of marathoning is basically a lot of pain management. Those incredibly fast, talented athletes hurt because they are pushing toward a goal, pushing themselves and pushing the other people around them.

Could there be a better kind of pain?

Running hurts, because it’s worth it. When it stops hurting, push yourself harder. Be amazed at you can do when you beat back your mental and physical obstacles. Whether you are seeking a personal record in distance or time, going for the win at a race, or just trying to get your health back, it will hurt. And it will be worth it. Give it time, not to hurt less, but to be worth it.

“I run because it’s so symbolic of life. You have to drive yourself to overcome the obstacles. You might feel that you can’t. But then you find your inner strength, and realize you’re capable of so much more than you thought.”
–Arthur Blank

disclaimer: I am not advising anyone to push through an injury. Duh–I want you to be able to keep running. i am talking about the general challenge of running, not a sharp, insistent pain or injury. Listen to your body. It will let you know the difference between discomfort and true injury.

This is Me, Part Two

24 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by in Running

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This is me…

When I’m out to eat after a race:

emma-stone-ugh-yum-gif

When someone tells me they’re going to run a marathon without training:

moreau-suspicious

When I found out I get to run Hood to Coast with Nuun:

celebrate

When my Garmin hasn’t charged overnight:

fast-no-cat

When someone asks me if I want to do a mud run.

not-my-jam

When someone asks me if I want to run today:

thinking-yes

When I realize it’s almost time for Runcation:

lebowski1

When I think about a training plan I haven’t followed:

nervous guilt

…and this is what my training plan thinks about me:

coach training plan

This is me…

when I get blog hits off the forum that exists to hate on running bloggers:

well-there-you-have-it

When I’m carb-loading:

carb loading lemur

When a friend tells me they want to start running:

dancing pageant girl

You might also giggle at This is Me, Part 1

Run for Boston Recap

23 Tuesday Apr 2013

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I am, for the most part, a lone runner. Due to my husband’s work schedule, I squeeze my runs in before breakfast, and don’t get out a lot for group runs. Plus, most of the time I use that time to do important work in my head.

But, like so many people in the last week, I have felt the desire to be out with other runners in the aftermath of Boston.
So last night I dropped the kids with my husband at work and joined a large group of runners at the Big Peach Running location in midtown Atlanta. This group was just one of hundreds that met up at places worldwide to mark the passing of a week since the bombings. I went solo, with the plan of finding Jesica of runladylike at some point before or after the run. Jesica and I have corresponded on Twitter for awhile but now have a new bond–she was also selected to run Hood to Coast with Nuun so we will be representing the A with me.

Before the run Karen from Big Peach read a lovely poem she wrote that talked about the enduring spirit of runners. 20130423-162425.jpg

It included the refrain, “We are One, we will RUN,” which is why everybody is holding up one finger in this picture.

Photo courtesy Big Peach Running Company

Photo courtesy Big Peach Running Company

We then we set off to Piedmont Park-a location the run leaders chose for its spring life and freshness after all the grieving of the week before.

I ran with Jesica and her friend Tisha. The conversation was good and the weather was just perfect. There really is nothing so glorious as spring in Atlanta, and while I know there is much healing to be done, but after the events involving the Tsarnaev brothers last Friday, this felt more like a run to honor victims and to look ahead, instead of strictly to process raw emotions. For that step toward closure, I am grateful. The runs at the 7 BPRC locations brought out 800 people and raised $3,000 for The One Fund for Boston.

After the run I got to enjoy dinner out with Jesica and Tisha, as well as Elizabeth and Melissa. It was nice and relaxing and surprisingly not as full of run-chat as you might think. It is always fun to meet my Twitter people in real life (I got to finally meet Bonnie at Big Peach too.)

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Jesica and me. Oh c’mon, you’d have taken this pic too.

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Elizabeth is injured right now and still she came out to support Boston. She’s cool like that.

I’m still beyond mortified at the reason we all felt compelled to come out and run, but very grateful that I am part of this community. “We are one. We WILL run.”

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