A 3.32 mile prayer.

The weather today in Boston is definitely worse than Shamrock, but nothing was going to keep me inside.

One year ago today I was training for my first half marathon and watching my first marathon.

I had never been a runner, you see.  I'm not fast, and only newly athletic.  I started running reluctantly, because my trainer told me it was the trick I needed to lose my last few pounds.  She was right, so I kept doing it, but I didn't really like it...until I had a race to train for, until I had my half marathon.

I diligently trained.

I logged miles and miles in cities I travel to for work, sometimes waking up at 4 am to get them in before a busy day.  Sometimes doing 8 or 9 mile runs on a treadmill (this takes a long time when you're slow and 90 minutes on a treadmill is not the most fun thing ever) so I could get them in when I was at an airport hotel surrounded by industrial areas.

I learned I liked training.

On 4/12/13 I logged my first 10.25 mile run.  I had never in my life dreamed I could run 10 miles without stopping.  When I finished I was sort of dumbfounded.  To top it off, I did it on the first day of a trip for work.  Me.  The non-runner.  Running 10.25 miles on a work trip.  I was elated and in love with running, and training.

On 4/15/13 I didn't need to run.  But after working in the morning I caught some snippets of the elites finishing the Boston Marathon.  I was just in awe.  I knew all the places, I saw my friend Sarah's house.  I thought of a former student who I knew was running, I was so impressed.  I wondered, in the back of my mind, if somewhere after my half marathon there was a full lurking out there somewhere for me...and so I finished working, changed, grabbed my shoes and went out to run.  Nothing fancy, 4 miles.  Easy mileage now, even for a former non-runner.

At mile 2.5 something was wrong.  My phone rang, and then it rang again.  My text messages started going off.  I stopped (I never stop when running) and saw that I'd missed calls from my brother, mother, a guy I'd recently started dating...I was very confused...and then I got in touch with my brother who asked if I was okay, and told me what happened.

I didn't really understand how someone could have bombed the utterly inspirational scene I'd just witnessed. I got literally sick to my stomach at the thought of my former student, friends and other people who would be crossing the finish at that moment.  These are the people you know.  The people who find the time to run 40-50 miles a week balancing kids and schoolwork and an office to do something spectacular.  These are your family and friends.  These are my family and friends.

I finished my phone calls and started to walk back and decided that I would run.  That no one would ever take running from me. Ever.  In that moment, running became personal.  Anger drove me to the fastest mile I'd ever run, at that point.

Since that day I've run hundreds of miles.  I've run 3 half marathons, 2 One Run for Bostons, a 10 mile race, 2 10Ks, 2 5 mile races, countless 5Ks and a lot of training miles.  On the horizon I have 2 half marathons, a Ragnar, a hell of a hill to climb, and, God willing, a marathon before the end of the year.  I've made so many good friends and learned more about myself than I ever thought possible.

I learned that the city of Boston has some beautiful places to run.
I learned I can run through the rain.
I learned I can run through silence and it's sort of like a prayer.
I learned I can run when it's frozen outside.

I learned I can run when it's sweltering hot.

I learned I can conquer hills.

I learned I can conquer injury.
I learned some races feel easy...
..and I learned I can persevere through those that seem to go on for miles

And so, today-I watched it rain and bluster all day, progressively getting worse.  I grew teary eyed during the NPR coverage during the drive into work, during a moment of silence in homeroom, and during a moment of silence at the moment the bombs went off last year as I drove home...and I decided I just didn't care what the weather was like today.  Today I was going to run.

I ran for everyone who can't anymore and everyone who wants to.  I ran for the new friends I've made and the old friends who have supported me through everything.  I ran for the family that gave me life and unending love and support

And yes, I ran for me.  For the me that wasn't a runner and all of the things she didn't know.  And when the wind blew harder, I ran harder.  When the rain burned my cheeks I put my head down and kept going, and when it wanted me to quit, I didn't, and I won't. This is a sad day for my city, and a sad day for runners and those who love them.  Here is my very humble contribution: a pensive 3.32 mile prayer.

#OneBoston #BostonStrong

A Belated, Beautiful, Breezy, Blow-up: Shamrock RR

I just sort of knew this wasn't going to be my race but I didn't want to believe it.

I will talk more about the amazingness that is Loopfest in a separate post.  I had so much fun meeting everyone and chatting (even though it was briefer than I would have liked!) however before I can think about the fun I need to process what the heck happened on this race/training cycle/etc.

When I registered for Shamrock last year I registered for the full.  I was in the middle of training for a half marathon which was going remarkably well.  My mileage was increasing, my speed was steadily improving, everything was looking optimistic and amazing.  I had visions of grandeur, pulling off 20 mile runs in the winter like a true badass, triumphantly completing my first full marathon surrounded by loopsters, friends from Boston, and a beautiful seaside setting.

I gave up on the full in the middle of January.  There were 3 main culprits: illness, altitude and travel.  The first two kind of helped each other out.  After 9 days of running at altitude while visiting my parents over Christmas my lungs just lost it.  I tried to push through a hilly 14 miler at 6,000 feet and wound up walking after an asthma attack hit hard at mile 10.  It took me a week to recover and I basically missed 2 long runs as a result.  Work had me traveling pretty much every weekend in January and I wound up shorting a 15 miler to 8, and just realized I didn't have the mileage or time to get that training cycle back.  My marathon goal was put on hold.

My mileage and times were looking pretty good for a half, though.  I switched to the half and figured I would try to finally break the sub 2:00 barrier.  I added in some intervals and pace runs and was feeling pretty great.  A 5 mile race in February resulted in a PR despite being pretty hilly.  I was feeling amazing and was pretty sure this race and I were good to go.  I don't think I've ever been more optimistic about a race 3 weeks out.

So of course something went wrong.

After an easy 4 miler one day I did a yoga class and my left leg...I don't even know.  My calf would cramp and then it moved and felt like my Achilles, or my hamstring, or my hip.  I'm pretty sure I did something to my Sciatic nerve after enlisting the help of expert Loopsters on Facebook.  Having a diagnosis didn't change the fact that I needed to take some time to recover and my long runs and speed work suffered tremendously as a result.  I told myself, loopsters, my friends, my family, I was not trying to accomplish a goal anymore at Shamrock.  I was going to JFR and see how it went...

My mind has a really hard time letting go of goals.

I went out in my (optimistically) assigned corral ahead of the 2:00 pace group, and figured I would start slower than them, and if I felt good try to match them when they caught up to me.  With any luck I'd still have some gas left for the last 2-3 miles and I could push ahead, making up whatever time I'd lost at the start.  I tend to run every race slower at the start and fast at the finish anyway, so I figured that would fit my past trends.  I found my groove during mile 1 and 2 and felt amazing. My calf was totally fine.  A 9:35 mile in mile 2 felt easy.  The 2:00 pace group was right behind me and I decided to keep close to them for as long as I could.  

Miles 3-6 were actually pretty fantastic.  I was cruising through this part of the race.  I felt great, temp was good, fuel was good, I was smiling, I was fast (for me).  It didn't hurt.  I actually pulled ahead of the sub 2:00 group for a bit and hit the 10K mark at right around 57:30. New 10K PR!!!  Not quite sub 2:00 pace but pretty close, and I almost always have a good kick at the end...

...and this is where the wheels came off. I turned into the wind at Fort Story and I felt like the wind was an invisible wall I was trying to run through.  I realized that my "easy" quick pace was a torturous effort, and when I looked at my Garmin, I saw that I had lost :50 seconds on my mile pace almost instantly.  I got passed by the 2:00 group and while they were doing some cheerleading it didn't look like they were suffering the way I was.  I couldn't figure out why this was so much harder on me than it seemed to be on everyone else.

I started to doubt all sorts of things.  I wondered if my calf had been better during training and I'd had a couple more longer runs, if this stretch would have gone differently. I started to question my food from the day before and the morning of the race and looked down at my hands and was shocked that they were super swollen, indicating I had a hydration problem.  I stopped looking at my Garmin because the number kept getting slower and it was depressing me.  I just mentally lost it and gave into the slower pace.  When I got to the water stop at mile 8 I started walking almost immediately and walked through the whole thing getting Gatorade/water.  I walked a little after, drinking the fluids trying to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of this race.

My body answered that question as I started to "run" again.  My legs felt like lead, there was still wind.  I could feel a blister forming on the bottom of my right foot.  My gait was off now and my hands were still totally swollen.  I decided I would run the rest easy and just finish running.  I spent a lot of time ruminating on how painful these last miles were.

I wasn't upset, I was actually sort of grateful for the experience.  Obviously I would rather have an awesome race and feel fantastic at every mile and every stop, but I didn't and there were lots of reasons for it, and I knew I couldn't change any of them on the course.  I could literally only finish or not and the mode of that finish was up to me.  Given the drop off in pace from the first part of the race and the state of my legs I was pretty sure a PR was out of the question, even though it was mathematically possible and should have been doable.  So I just focused on maintaining a steady pace.

Somewhere around mile 11 I remembered that even if I hurt I should enjoy what I was doing on that beautiful day, by a beautiful beach.  I gave kiddos high fives and tried doing the peace sign for a few photos as per Loopster recommendations the day before.  I said hi to the OSOM loop ladies when I ran by and was so happy to see them.  I started to get it in my head that I would finish the last mile strong, that this pain and anguish was all mental and I just needed to push.  I started to push, I felt a little better, I came around to the boardwalk and got SLAMMED with wind again and knew that was it.  I would finish, it would be under 2:10.  It would not be my slowest half ever.  But it would not be pretty.

I finished in 2:08:47 and was so relieved to be done.  I thought the finish chute would be miserable and long given how I was feeling on the course, but it immediately seemed pretty awesome.  There were smiles, congratulations, I actually took a picture with my finisher's medal for the first time.  This one was harder than the others, I wanted to remember it.  That picture wound up being amazing, it doesn't even look like I wanted to collapse for 5 miles.  

I met up with some friends from Boston after and walked around the finishers tent a bit.  They were kind enough to let me warm up at their hotel and get cleaned up since I had to head back pretty quickly after the race.  

I'll be back, Virginia Beach.  Shamrock and I have a score to settle.