Shamrock Marathon: Gone with the Wind

I've said it before, and I'll say it again...In my next life, I am going to be a weather forecaster.  It is one of the only jobs in which you can be WRONG 75+%  of the time and still have a job.  The Shamrock forecast during the week was 46 degrees and 9-mph winds.  For a coastal race, those winds are manageable.  However, race morning, as I walked from our hotel to the start line, I dropped my first of many f-bombs for the day.  The winds were closer to 20-mph sustained and gusting even faster.  Lucky for me though, once the gun went off,  I was mentally ready to kick anything's a$$.  Nothing was going to stop me from my 3:05 goal...

During the final weeks of training, I felt great.  I ran the Yasso 800's at a 2:54 average, and on my final long-ish run of 12 miles, the first nine were at goal race pace before comfortably dropping the final three at 6:27 pace.  Physically, I was ready.  I was starting to get nervous but kept myself in check.  At work one day, a customer asked me when I ran my 3:06 PR, and when I said 2009, she replied, "Oh.  Well that was a long time ago now."  ...just the comment I needed to get mentally fired up as well.  Bring it, Shamrock!

My gluts and calves started to flare over the final two weeks of training, but I kept telling myself that I am accustomed to handling these "problem" areas now.  I went for an extra deep tissue massage to loosen up my tight a$$, took an ice bath (awful), and told Mike to slap me every time I allowed these aches to get into my head.  Okay, Mike didn't really slap me.  Really, that was a joke.  Don't call the cops.

Good times

Oh yeah, and I also learned something new.  Actually, no, I didn't learn something new; I simply did something really stupid.  After developing calluses on both feet, I thought it would be, um, smart to buy medicated callus removers.  So, five days before the race, I put four of them on for 24 hours, and bam!  When I took them off, here was the result:

Medicated callus removers = Worst.  Purchase.  Ever.  I quickly drained the blisters, neosporined (that is totally a verb) the crappers out of them, and tried to stop staring at what looked like four UFOs crash landing on my feet.  I officially had the funkiest-looking feet in the world. 

Mmk,  Friday morning.  Decided to weigh myself.  Dumb.  I was a few pounds light.  See now, I think I am odd.  Whereas most women would be like, "WOOHOO!  I lost weight!", I was like, "CRAP!  I lost strength!"  Mike and I planned to leave for Virginia Beach that day around 3pm, but our new post-weigh-in plan was to stop in Durham along the way at a brewery.  Yep, two nights before the marathon, and I was eating a cheeseburger and quesadillas.  What better way to regain strength than with a big ol' protein-y burger.  Hey, at least I refrained from the wine...

On Saturday, we watched the 8K right below our oceanfront balcony window, and I got those excited jitters in my tummy.  After grabbing my number at the expo, we were off to an Italian dinner with Mike's parents, who trekked down from Philly to watch me run.  We had just gotten our check when I decided I was still hungry; therefore, I ordered pasta meal number two.  Yep, I am pretty sure my weight and strength were back in full force.  Nom nom!  Or perhaps, oink oink.

Race morning.  I body-glided my UFOs for about six hours, foam-rolled my a$$ for another four hours, peed 34 times, and was ready to run.  I decided to race in compression sleeves for the first time too.  No, I did not wear them because "OMG!  Look at how my pink socks match my pink and blue polka-dotted shirt!"  They helped keep my calves in check during training, so if they would help today, I was all for it.

Man, was it windy.  I made my way to the start area, which felt like a wind tunnel.  The highlight of my morning?  I was the FIRST person to use one of the porta-potties.  Yep, there was nothing in the toilet, and the TP was still wrapped in paper.  I felt so honored that I even forgot about the wind for a little while.  When I got back in line to pee for the 87th time, a fellow runner asked me why I was so excited.  When I told her, she stared at my face for a few seconds and then stopped talking to me. 

I navigated my way to the start line and chatted with the 3:05 pacers, Danny and Tom.  They said they went for a warmup into the headwinds, concluding that the effort was going to be about 15-20 seconds harder today.  Therefore, if we were running 7:00 pace into the wind, it would feel like we were running 6:40-6:45 pace.  Well, crappers!  We would hit a 10-mile stretch into the wind beginning at mile six, so their goal was to bank time in the first few miles and start at 6:45 pace.  Yikes.  Hearing that and looking around at all the in-shape men I was lined up with started to intimidate me, but then I reminded myself how well my training had gone, and I knew I belonged there.  F-yeah, I belonged there!  There was a guy from DC lined up next to me saying he was going for a 3:05, but his previous PR was a 3:24.  My gut reaction was, "Holy Moses, now that's a goal!" to which he also stopped talking to me.  WTF?  Perhaps he was really religious?  Whatever it was, I certainly wasn't making any friends today.  Right as the national anthem concluded, I wished him luck anyway and asked him his name, to which he responded, "Moses".  Ahhh.  Got it. 

 Brr

The gun went off, and I let Danny and Tom go as I settled into my own, comfortable rhythm.  Mile one = 6:53.  I looked up, and Danny and Tom were right there, so from this point forward, I latched onto the group.  We had about 10-15 men and two women, myself included, which in the later miles would become much smaller.  Miles two through four averaged 6:58, and I was feeling extremely easy.  The five-mile marker was waaaaay off, and Danny and Tom were actually pretty annoyed, asking officials along the route what the deal was.  It was a full tenth of a mile long according to both their GPS watches (and since we were running in a straight line at that point, the tangents did not come into play).  Therefore, moving forward (no pun intended), I decided to run by feel and not check my watch.  At mile six, we hit the first turn-around, and WHOOSH!  Hi, wind.  This is where being a shawty like me helps.  I started playing connect the dots, with Danny and Tom being the dots, and me following in erratic lines to stay right behind them. 

After running through what felt like a maze (Camp Pendleton), we went back over a bridge and hit the boardwalk for almost two miles, where the wind was just dumb.  I have no other word for it.  Dumb.  A few more f-bombs went through my head, but in the, "you ain't got nuttin' on me, wind!" kind of way.  I did not look at the ocean because I knew if I did, I would see the waves and let the wind get the best of me, so I just did my best to keep connecting the dots.  Down the boardwalk, I saw Mike, Ginny, and Charlie and gave them a fist-pump.  I was feeling relaxed and STRONG.

Fist pumpin' as we leave the boardwalk at mile 12

We passed the half-marathon mark in 1:32:02.  My gluts and calves were doing okay, but I was forming new blisters on top of my old blisters, but again, I didn't care; I could deal with that.  Even though we were still running into headwinds, we picked up the pace.  In looking back at splits post-race, we had a four-mile stretch here that averaged 6:38 pace.  I'm not sure if we were actually running THIS fast or if this was where the course made up for the earlier mile that was long, but regardless, it was definitely a faster pace.  At mile 16, I could feel some fatigue setting in, most likely due to the increased pace and having run so long into the wind.  Danny and Tom decided to scale the pace back since we got ahead of ourselves, and this is where I decided to go.   I was in a groove; I didn't want to suddenly pull back.  Miles 16-19 had a tailwind, which was nice, but I kept wondering if I was going too fast too soon.  I made sure to take my tangents along Shore Drive and dropped two sub-6:50's in a row, but when I made the turn at mile-19, I was right back into the wind.  Sh*t got hard here, ha!  I took my final gu, and within a mile, I knew I had my PR; I was tired but still strong.  When a blood blister popped at mile 22, I about tripped over myself, but meh...four miles with a little blood never hurt a marathon runner!  At mile 23, I was out of the winds, but by mile 24, my quads were pretty tired.  Two miles to go...whatever, quads.

Mile 22 foot carnage, five days post-race

Note to self:  If windy, wear braids!

Once I rounded the turn back onto the boardwalk, I could see the finish line.  My second half passed in 1:30:57, a negative split, and I reached home in 3:02:59.  I started getting choked up as I walked my way out to find Mike.  I think the emotions of the past year started settling in.  Then I realized what a goober I must look like, so I wiped my nasty face on the not-so-nasty finisher blanket they gave us.  Nice touch!  ...the blankets; not my snot.

I finished as eighth woman overall, and having only been seven minutes off the second Ethiopian and 1:19 off the money (top five), I was pretty stoked (albeit a little frustrated to have been that close!).  Top-10 was in the back of my head before the race, and I ended up winning my age group, which I was happy with too.  Also adding to the weekend awesomeness were my Streakers.  Of the 26 racing at Shamrock or other races that day, 25 had PR's.  Simply amazing.  With the out-and-back layout of the Shamrock course, it was awesome being able to see and cheer for those doing the marathon.

By 3pm, I was eating a burrito and taking a shot of Bailey's.  By 5pm, I was drinking wine and eating M&M's.   By 7pm, I got my burger and a frozen margarita because, well, that was quenching my thirst better than wine.  By 9pm, I was back in the hotel drinking wine again with Ginny and Holly, my friend and coworker that had run a PR in the half-marathon that day.  Yep, all the proper post-race recovery techniques were in-tact.

This race gave me the confidence boost I need to go sub-3.  Given how easy the first half felt, I keep wondering if I could have done it here, but I could be wrong.  No looking back regardless; I am happy with my race but extremely curious with how good I felt.    Marathoning is so much about balance.  Am I going out too slow?  Am I going out too fast?  There will be more marathons to test it out.

Thanks for the fun and PR, Virginia Beach!  Not sure what my next adventure will be, but for now, I'm just gonna keep putting one foot in front of the other.  

Happy Running!

Let the Games Begin!

The mental games, that is.

Just over three weeks to go until the Shamrock Marathon.  Now, mind you, when I decided to run this marathon, I set out to have fun and accepted the possibility that I might not have time to get back into peak shape.  No pressure.  Just fun.  Time doesn't matter.  Simply enjoy the run.  Yep.  Totally.

Aaaaaaand, I started caring.  Damn it.

In all my training cycles, I can look back and pinpoint a run in which everything just started to click.  Whether it simply be in the way I feel, or in the way I perform, there was always that moment when the weeks of feeling like, uh, shit, became worth it.  I can look back during this training cycle and pinpoint two moments:  a 14-mile run that wasn't even all that spectacular, but felt effortless, and a final 6:03 mile at the end of a seven mile run that had already averaged 7:10 pace for the first six miles.  At that point, I knew I hadn't lost all my speed.  I was relieved; I wasn't sure I would reach those moments this time around.

Since then, I've had some great workouts.  I've even become friends with the track.  We've always had a tumultuous relationship, but it looks like I'm wearing the pants these days*.  I ran 5 x the mile (1600 meters if I want to be totally anal, which, um, I am) at a 6:07 average, completed 16 x 400 with a 1:22.75 (yes, anal) average, and dropped a four-mile tempo at 6:31 pace right in the middle of a 20-mile run.  I also had a fast enough tempo during an 18-miler that brought the entire run's average pace to sub-7.  These workouts left me happy and confident in my belief that the body never forgets all the previous hard work it's done.

*Hopefully after reading this, the track doesn't smack me upside the head on my 800's next week.  Yes, tracks can read.  You didn't know that?  Well, they can.  So there.

Alright, so, just over three weeks to go.  My mind has shifted from wondering if I'd even be in shape to wondering if I'm now in shape too early.  Oh, the mental agony!  I justify my thoughts by simply thinking to the marathon distance itself.  Getting to the start line NOT under-trained, NOT over-trained, and NOT injured is quite an art form.  Sure, if you are a bit out-of-shape or fatigued, running a decent 5K or 10K is still highly possible.  The game changes for 26.2.  Plus, other elements play bigger roles...i.e., the weather, getting your nutrition/hydration/sleep correct, keeping healthy...

Oh, yeah, so, as I write this, I am sick as a dog.  Actually, I retract that statement because why do we assume dogs are always sick??  While laying in bed coughing my lungs up this morning, all Zoe did was snuggle up to my chest trying to make me feel better.  So, yeah, let me rephrase that by saying I am sick as a worm.  Because really, worms are sick (in the nasty-disgusting-slimy sense), little creatures. 

So NOT sick

Despite the often over-thinking, I have stayed true to myself during this training.  And by true to myself, I mean I am still drinking wine like a fish.  Wait, do fish drink wine??  What is with all these false animal references, people!?  And eating like a horse.  Ack!  Horses don't even eat meat!  In which case, I CERTAINLY do NOT eat like a horse.  Anywho, point being, I am not allowing the training to consume me.

So, let's get off topic and talk about meat for a little bit.  By the time I post this, it will be lunchtime, so you will be hungry anyway.  You're welcome.  Mike and I had an AWESOME dinner the night before Valentine's Day (yep, that's how we roll...not normal) at a restaurant in town called Table 16.  If you haven't tried it yet, you are weird should.  We did their "tasting", which means you pay a flat rate, and the chef keeps bringing you surprise mini courses until you tell him you are full.  It was like a dream come true.  Little did the chef know that for small people, we can eat.  A LOT.  Here is what we ate:  duck and crawfish gumbo, salmon with fried cauliflower, arugula with prosciutto and chevre cheese, tuna with bearnaise sauce over polenta, prime rib and okra over something that I can't remember because I was in food heaven, and bison with something that I can't remember because I was in a food coma.  I think there was another course in there too that I can't remember.  We polished it off with bread pudding.  And a bottle and a half of Shiraz.  We finally closed the place down at 11pm.  Mm hmm. 

Okay, so that was fun.  Back on topic.  I am true to myself, which also means I can be a mental case from time-to-time.  I'm not afraid to admit it.  I justify this by telling myself that in order to be a good marathon runner, you have to be Type-A in some regards.  Not all regards (re-read the previous paragraph), but if you are a marathon runner, chances are, you like to accept challenges, and ultimately, succeed.

So, here is where my devil mind has sent me over these past few weeks and my angel mind's rebuttals:

*  Am I peaking too early? 
A month ago, I didn't think I'd be in shape.  Shut up.

*  My recovery days at a slow pace don't always feel as slow as they should or did before. That's not good.

I know better than this.  There is no "should".  Everyday is different, and I tell the runners I coach this all the time.  Plus, the bonus in this is that I've gotten REALLY good at taking these recovery days.  Actually, I AM THE FREAKING BOMB AT THEM!

* Ugh, it takes me longer now than in previous training cycles to warm up into a run.  This must mean I'm fatigued.
Mike tells me it's because we're getting older, HA!  So, I'm sticking with that.

 * My big toe just started hurting.
Your big toe?  Seriously?  Shut up.

So, there we have it.  At the end of the day, I am THRILLED to have reached the fitness I have again.  Hmm, "at the end of the day" ...another dumb reference.  Because really, I am thrilled about it ALL day.  Anywho, this weekend will be my longest run yet, a 22-miler, and then the miles start coming down.  Whereas my mind is trying to wander and hope that being sick won't affect my run this weekend, because having a bad run for my longest run would be a very bad thing, I am getting much better at beating these mental demons and always remembering why I do this...because I love to run.  Running fast is just icing on the cake.

Did someone say cake?

Me Again

Okay, so what is up with all these spam comments on my blog posts?!  Seriously, just because I disappeared for a few months doesn't mean I deserve all these creeper town peeps going comment crazy on my blog.  They need a hobby.  Perhaps running would do.  :)

Or reading?  Yep, I have become quite the reader these days.  In addition to wine, a good book (or my kindle) is just the help I need to unwind from the craziness my days seem to uphold all these, um, days.  Granted, after laying in bed for about five minutes, I start drooling, mostly red from the wine, upon said kindle, and next thing I know, I wake up saying, "wtf just happened?"  ...and then the craziness begins all over.

It sounds so cliche, but I seriously do need more time in a day.  Really, seriously.  Someone give it to me.  I'm not kidding.  If someone can create an iPhone that essentially does everything except wipe it's owner's a$$, then heck, surely someone can figure out how to create more time in a day.  No?  Well then, poop (before you know it, after making this ever-so-mature statement, an iPhone holding some TP will appear...).

Okay, way off topic.  What I meant to say was...I have become quite the reader these days.  In addition to wine, a good book (or my kindle) is just the help I need to unwind at the end of a busy day.  While on a seven mile run a few weeks ago, I started thinking about the book I was reading at the time and the meaning behind the plot.  Me Again, by Keith Cronin, is about a 30-something male that wakes up after six years in a stroke-induced coma.  Yep, pretty heavy stuff, and although sad at the outset, it is a story of rebirth and an opportunity to forget the past to build a better future.

As such, running always allows me to reflect, which is probably the biggest reason why I like running alone.  Other runners might think I am odd to actually WANT to run alone, and I have even been told by another runner once that I was selfish for this, but it really is "me" time.  It's ironic actually, because I look at running as a time when I am actually allowed to be selfish; I can be happy, sad, fast, slow, angry, silly, or WHATEVER.  For those miles, what I am doing affects no one but me.  In the general population, we spend too much time worrying about what will make others happy and not enough time on our own happiness.  Running always allows me the latter.

That last paragraph should be called, "Deep Thoughts With Jen Goff."  If you read it back in the voice of Jack Handy, you'd agree...

Mmk, so now I am going to talk about some life circumstances that I apparently shouldn't talk about, ya know, because they are "taboo".  I put that word in quotes because I think it is dumb.  I mean, doesn't "taboo" sound like something a really rich person would eat alongside their caviar?  "Oh, darling, can you please make me my favorite dish of caviar and taboo tonight?"  Mind you, I say this while I feast on chicken strips and waffle fries from Chick Fil-A.  Don't lie...you know you are jealous.  Waffle fries ROCK.  Caviar and taboo...gross.

So, here is my, um, "taboo":  my life over the last so many months has consisted of two miscarriages, one in July, and one on Halloween (yep, scary shit).  After the Boston Marathon, Mike and I had plans of starting a family, just like I had plans of breaking three hours in Boston.  In both situations, I quickly learned that life doesn't always go as planned, whether it be an 89 degree day, or the fact that having a baby can actually be pretty hard.  Throughout the first pregnancy, I continued to run.  Granted, I ran short and slow to be smart, but I continued to slog (slog = slow jog).  Throughout the second pregnancy, I stopped running out of fear that I was doing something harmful.  Silly me, I should have known better...running causes no harm.

So, the combination of my lack of running and my, um, taboo also left me blog-less.  I mean, hell, without running and wine in my life, wtf could I say?!  I am extremely appreciative for all the people that have asked me to blog again though.  So, here is my shout out to you...thank you!  No, not you, you creeptastic blog comment freaks...again, find a hubby.  Oops, I meant hobby.  HA!  Total typo there, but hey, perhaps a hubby would help too...

Sooooooo, yeah, here I sit and write, with wine in hand...Me Again!  I have been back running for 10 weeks.  I am signed up for the Shamrock Marathon on March 17th, and I feel GREAT.  If you asked me how I felt a few weeks ago, I may or may not have barked at you (rawrrrrrrf!), but the legs are finally back on board.  I am not giving myself a goal for this race, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't trying for a PR.  I have started adding some "sharpening" back into my routine, which included a final three miles at 6:33 pace at the end of my 16-mile run on Friday.  I am starting to feel ready again.

I've also got new sneaks and a new playlist joining me on my runs.  My Mizuno Elixir 8's continue to be one of the weirdest looking shoes to hit the wall (yikes!), but hey, if the shoe fits, wear it, and I feel as though this shoe was made just for ME:

As for my playlist, I realize I have issues, but I never really enjoyed following the mainstream anyway, so allow me to share some of my newest additions:

"Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M.:  No, not exactly a pump up song, but it would make a good marathon theme song.  When you are hurting, just remember, so is everybody else, so just.  keep.  going.  k, thanks.
"Too Legit to Quit" by MC Hammer:  Are you seriously thinking about quitting?  Pssh, gotta be legit, man, gotta be legit. 
"I Will Wait (for You)" by Mumford & Sons:  When I am running, I re-sing this song as "I Will NOT Wait for You", because, well, really, I will not wait for you...
"The Distance" by Cake:  Okay, seriously, you should be able to figure this one out on your own.  It's all in the name.  Yep, you got it...cake.  MMM CAKE.  Duh.
"Tik Tok" by Kesha:  Tik tok goes the clock.  Run faster, damn it!
"It's Not My Time" by Three Doors Down:  So, if I don't PR in Shamrock, I'll just lie about my time.  When someone says to me, congrats on your 00:00:00 time, I'll just look at them dumbly and say, "Huh?  It's not my time!"
"Thong Song" by Siquo:  Yeah, I have no explanation for this one.  I just like the beat.  I can't help it.  I swear it has nothing to do with thongs.  Don't judge.

Aside from the awesomeness that is running, I can't complain...life is good all around!  I've made a resolution to myself to help, um, myself in the new year by not working too much.  Although I am fortunate to LOVE my job, I tend to overdo it on many levels, and I have a feeling that scaling back for more "me time" will help with my kindle-wine-drooling issue.  Oh, and speaking of my kindle, check out my latest book purchase:

Crazy, right?  No, not the fact that I actually purchased this book, but that the fact that humans actually poop 410 pounds a year!  Whoa!  Perhaps when I am done with this shit, I will write a blog poop, err, post letting you know how it all went down.  So, stay tuned...don't wipe it off your list just yet.  You might think I'm crazy by this point and that my opinion doesn't fecal matter, but seriously, never judge a book by it's cover.

Mmk, so that was fun.  Back to those resolutions.  Hmm, actually, I really haven't thought of anymore.  Who am I kidding?  I suck at resolutions!

So, onward and upward I go!  No more dwelling on the past.  While life can certainly crap on you (I am about a third of the way through my new book in case you were wondering), there are always lessons to be learned and perspectives to be had from every experience we endure.  For right now, I am exactly where I want to be...in all my marathon running glory!  I cannot wait to toe the line again on March 17th to feel that adrenaline rush and camaraderie of my fellow marathoners.  I am also training my current Streakers (no, no, not ACTUAL streakers...but rather, the group I coach) for this race, so it will be great to share the experience with them.  Mike and I have been taking a lot more time for ourselves lately too, which pretty much means we have been having our fun trying all sorts of new restaurants around town, ha, but hey, what can I say...eating is our thing (good thing our thing is also endurance sports!).  

So, let's bring it, 2013!  I am ready for you...I am Me Again.

HAPPY RUNNING!

Goodbye, July; Hello, Olympics!

Okay, so really, who names their kid Phillip Phiillips?  I don't wanna judge, but seriously.  When I first heard his name back in his Idol days, I immediately assumed he was from the south, and yep, whaddya know...a proud Leesburg, Georgia boy.  This mirrors other names I've heard of in this area:  Neil McNeil, Judith Judy, and Bill Guill.  What's up with that?!

Now that I got that out, I have a point.  Sort of.  The Olympics!  While crying like a baby watching gymnastics every night during the 2012 London Games, Phillip Phillips's hit song, "Home", has played.  I must admit, the ill-named musician is quite talented...I love that song!  My actual point is that I am obsessed with the Olympics; I realize the whole Phillip squared thing is irrelevant, but whatever.  Work with me here.

I am mostly tuning into gymnastics (I was a pretty good gymnast back in my day), swimming (um, I suck), and, of course, track & field.  I can't really explain it, but I cry all the time when I see parents getting emotional in the stands when their "kids" perform well.  Perhaps I am sad to have missed my window of opportunity to even think about being good enough at anything to be in the Olympics.  Meaning, I am getting the big O-L-D (at least in Olympic standards).  Mind you, I say this while listening to the Cindy Lauper station on Pandora.  ..."I Think We're Alone Now", "Bette Davis Eyes", "Don't You Forget About Me" (heck yeah, Breakfast Club!) ...you know you dig 'em.  No?  Shut up.

My gosh, I am listening to oldies...and thinking they are awesome.  WTF.

So, given this revelation, I decided to look up the oldest Olympian in the 2012 Games.  Hiroshi Hoketsu is a 71-year-old competitor from Japan in the event of, um, dressage.  Okay, I had no idea what this was, and it turns out, dressage is an equestrian event.  Therefore, I am going to buy a horse and start training.  Yup, I have 39 years to work with.  In the great words of Jim Carey, aka Lloyd Christmas, "So you're telling me there's a chance..."  

Okay, no.  In any event, I will be sad when the Olympics are over.  I could say I wish they were every year, but then we might take their awesomeness, and our appreciation for them, for granted.  I could not be happier for the Team USA Gymnasts, Michael Phelps, and my gosh, Galen Rupp.  Hello, USA distance running!  Whassup now, Kenya?!

"It's just another manic Monday.  I wish it was Sunday."  Oh, the Bangles.  Sorry, I had to share that latest Pandora gem with you...it's a goodie.  Okay, but really, why would you wish it was Sunday?  Sunday is followed by Monday.  Jus' sayin'.

Mmk, so given that my chances of dressaging (is that a word?!) are slim, I will stick to running.  My running has been spotty lately, but it is getting better again.  July proved a tough month; basically, Mike and I had front row seats in learning just how precious life can be.  Therefore, a vacation to Charleston at the end of the month was just what we needed!  I was able to run over the Cooper River Bridge (a must-do for any runner visiting the city), which was awesome.  I outran a lightning storm after cresting the top of the bridge, which was pretty freaking petrifying exhilarating.  We also spent a lot of time with my good friend, red wine, and I was introduced to perhaps a new friend...painting!  Yes, I took a painting class.  The assigned painting was of the Cooper River Bridge, which suited me well, and well, whaddya know, it was a drink wine while learning how to paint class...how convenient!

Well, hello there, lover.

 Wine 'n' Paint:  Before

Wine 'n' Paint:  After 

Call me Jenni Picasso!  No?  Whatever.

  I wonder what would have happened if no wine was involved.  Complete and utter crap, obviously.  ;)

One thing we did not do while in Charleston that we had hoped was kayak the black swamps with alligators.  Mind you, I am practically afraid of my own shadow (I was the kid that didn't go outside for an entire summer because I was afraid the "killer" bees would get me), but kayaking with alligators?  I dig it.  Perhaps next time.  Might wanna leave the wine out for that one though......

Here are a few other pics from our trip:

 Sullivan's Island

 Boone Hall Plantation - slave cabins

 Boone Hall Plantation - live oaks

 South Carolina Aquarium with the Cooper River Bridge in the background
(looks just like my painting...obviously)

Scrappy, our pup for the week, keeping us safe!

 We stopped at two Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives during the trip.  This was at Pawley's Front Porch in Columbia, SC.  Burgers with daggers.  There are no words.

The Tattooed Moose in Charleston.  Blue Cheese fries and a whole-lotta garlic.  Go get a napkin...I think you are drooling.

 All in all, it was a nice and filling relaxing trip!

Okay, so I think I just figured out the reason why I was not made to be an Olympian.  Do you ever notice that when Olympians are interviewed post-event, it seems as though they are reading from a script?  If they were to say what they were really thinking (i.e. "I cannot believe I lost to that #*(^$@!"), the media and general population would judge them for lacking class and being unprofessional.  Yet, when they say what they are "supposed" to say ("I am just soooo happy to be here and am soooo proud of Jane Doe for making it a great race and getting the gold."), all is well.  Really, are we supposed to believe that?  See now, I have no filter.  If I was, say, an Olympic marathoner, this is how my post-race interview would go:

Interviewer: "Jen, it looked like you struggled a bit at mile 22 when Mary Keitany surged and you had no response.  What happened?"

What they would expect me to say:  "Well, it just wasn't my day.  Mary ran really strong, and I am proud of her for having the strength at a time when so many others struggled." 

What I would actually say:  "I probably shouldn't have eaten that second burger last night.  And where the hell were the porta-potties?  If it weren't for that extra cheese, I totally woulda won." 

I would like to point out that this realization came to me while "Ill Stand By You", sung by none other than, uh, The Pretenders, came alive on Pandora.  Mm hmm.  So there ya have it...God did not make me an Olympian because I am simply too honest.  Duh.

Okay, so now that I have rationalized why I am not an Olympian to acceptable standards, I think I will go for a run.  Over this past week, I feel as if my legs have really woken back up, and I feel great!   My plan is to train as if I am gearing towards another 26.2 and see how my body feels en route.  In the meantime, I am excited for this final week of the Olympics!  Golden thoughts to Galen in the 5,000m and Ryan Hall in the men's marathon.  Go Team USA!

"Take your passion, and make it happen...what a feeling!" 
- Irene Cara * Flashdance*

Summer RUNdown

Welcome back, blogosphere!  Where have you been?!  Okay, okay, it was actually me that disappeared.  Sorry about that.  I've still been super dehydrated from Boston, so I've been standing next to my sink this whole time.  

Okay, no, that is not true.  I've been next to the garden hose.  Okay, no.  Actually, I recovered very well from Boston.  I didn't need more than two days off, and I was back at it again.  The heat obviously drained me, but since I ran so much slower than prepared to run, my legs were actually very...springy.  It also helped that the temperatures returned to normal; it's funny how traveling back down south gave us cooler temps! 

Eight days after Boston, I went back to the track:  16 x400's with 5 seconds less rest on each one until I was only down to 20 seconds rest.  I averaged 1:25, and my legs felt solid.  Therefore, I decided to try the Pittsburgh Marathon again on May 6th or the Pocono Mountain Run for the Red Marathon on May 20th.

Then, plans changed.  The weekend of April 28th, two weeks post-Boston, Mike competed in the Cohutta 100-mile mountain bike race in Tennessee.  During that weekend, I was supposed to run an easy 6-8 miles one day, followed by a 60-minute run with 5x 5-minutes at 6:20 pace afterwards the next day.  Problem was, being in the mountains, I got really excited and started climbing up any mountain I could find on the easy day.  Greensboro might be "hilly", but mountains are mountains...and they were awesome!  Needless to say, it was not "easy", and therefore, my 5x5 the next day did not, um, happen.

Mike's turn to crush it!

Point being, I was enjoying just being out there and..........running.  Where I wanted.  How fast I wanted.  How far I wanted.  No expectations or limits.  Since the beginning of February, I diligently stuck to a new training plan and did what it took to run well in Boston.  Now, post-Boston and unsatisfied, I was tinkering between going back for the time I deserved or forcing myself to be content with the day, as it was, and relieving myself of the emotional hype that goes into marathon training.  In the end, the latter won.  Plus, there was no guarantee that my body would continue to hold up after already having run two marathons and a half-marathon in only four months.  I was also entering a very busy two weeks at work, and quite frankly, the thought of both was kinda, sorta, maybe stressing me out.

I am also down two toenails.  Not that this would ever keep me from running, but my right foot has already lost its second toenail, and the big toenail is dangling by a thread.  Yes, dangling by a thread.  Oh, are you eating lunch right now?  Is it yummy?  Oh, you didn't hear me?  I said MY TOENAIL IS DANGLING BY A THREAD.  I will spare you the picture.  I am also finally getting a pedicure today.  Perhaps I will ask for the marathon-feet-eight-toenails-only discount.......... ;)

So, that is that.  There will be more marathons, just not right now.  I will say though, I have a hard time talking to someone about Boston that has no clue what it means to run a marathon, add to that, one in 90 degrees.  Some comments:  "So, you mean you couldn't run faster just because it was hot?"  "Wait, that was your official time?"  "Well, didn't they have water out there?"  "I know how you feel...I ran a 5K in the heat, but I was actually okay."  .....................barf.

I find my mind to be a little all over the place all the time lately too.    I definitely have thoughts of running an ultra-marathon, and Mike and I have both been challenged by our Navy Seal friend to compete in the Lake Placid Ironman one of these years (note-to-self:  learn how to swim, k thanks).  Both would be a great challenge, and I always need a challenging goal.  'Tis what makes me tick!

Speaking of making me tick, I am very excited for the Olympics this summer!  First up, we have the Tour de Druggies France beginning on June 30th, with the Olympics following in July and August.  This past Friday night, we watched the USA Olympic 10K trials, and I gotta say, I am cheering for Amy Hastings all the way to London and back.  What an incredible, gutsy race she ran.  As she started making her move around Shalane on that final turn, I was on my feet screaming at the television screen, ya know, just in case she could hear me.  When we were in Houston in January, Amy shot the shit (uh, sorry, there was no better way for me to say that) with Emily and I post-race, so graciously handling her one-woman-out fourth place finish in the Marathon trials.  Meanwhile, when Emily and I asked Shalane, who won the Marathon trials, for a photo that same day, she looked at us like we had two heads*.  Now, granted, I cannot even begin to imagine what it is like handling the pressure, media, and fans while being at the top of your field.  I am also excited to see just how far Galen Rupp will go.  ...And let's not forget Ritzenhein; after being heartbroken for him after his fourth place finish in Houston, he makes his third trip to the Olympics in the 10K.  Go Ritz!

* no, it does not matter that we interrupted her conversation with someone else to ask for the photo.  I mean, we are Jen and Emily after all.  VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE.  Sheesh!

So, that's where I'm at.  After my reject-pedicure today, I am going to head out for a longer run.  And by longer, I mean where I want, how fast I want, and how long I want.  ...just because I love it, and because I can!

  I've also decided NOT to spare you the picture of my lack-of toenails.  So, here you go.  Dangler on the left and missing toenail (with the actual toenail below it) on the right.  At least I gave you enough time to finish your lunch!  You're welcome. :)

Happy Running!

2012 Boston Marathon: The Perfect Worst Race

Before I start writing, I would like to point out that it is 49 degrees in Boston right now.  K, thanks.

Aaaand, here we go...

As I was riding the elevator one final time in the Omni Parker House Hotel before leaving Boston, a fellow survivor said to me, "Congratulations on a perfect, worst race."  At first, I looked at him confused, but then I realized, he was spot on.  Having run about 25 minutes off both my goal and PR, I do not think any race could have filled me with as much happiness and pride as the 

2012 Boston Marathon.

And yes, for everyone that finished, we can forever call ourselves "survivors".  As the second hottest race in Boston Marathon history, reaching nearly 90 degrees, we have etched our spaces into the running history books.   Here are the quick and dirty (or should I say, the not-so-quick and dirty) stats:

• Of the 26,000+ registrants, over 4,300 either did not pick up their race bibs or accepted a deferment to the 2013 event.  This is the first time in Boston Marathon history that a deferment was offered.
• Nearly 1,000 runners that started the race did not finish.
• Over 2,100 runners needed medical assistance along the route.
• About 150 runners were brought to area hospitals.
• Between 10 and 20 runners were in critical condition on Monday due to dehydration, hyponatremia, or heat stroke.
• One woman died of a heart attack.
• Both defending champions, Kenyans Geoffrey Mutai and Caroline Kilel, started but did not finish.
• Of the 37 elite men and women that started, 10 dropped out.

What am I grateful for?  The sheer fact that I am not one of these statistics. 

Arriving in Boston:  "Fear Becomes Comfort"

When the weather forecast reached 80 degrees a week before the marathon, I became dysfunctional worried.  People would say, "Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine", which made me mad.  I would read, "Everyone is dealing with the same thing", which made me even madder.  The thing is, I trained hard.  I got in good shape.  I was healthy.  I was ready to peak.  When you train for a marathon, having all these factors come together at once is actually not, um, typical.  So, yes, I would be fine, and yes, everyone was dealing with the same thing, but I was not there to compete with everyone else; I was there to compete with myself.  As the predicted temps continued to climb that week, I started to accept them and took away the self-inflicted pressure.  I finally just had to say to myself, "Shut the hell up, and go run, Jen."

  

Our flight out of Raleigh was awesome (yes, I just said "flight" and "awesome" in the same sentence...also not, um, typical); it was full of marathoners!  How can you tell marathoners apart from everyone else in an airport you ask?  Oh, you didn't ask?  Well, tough, here is your answer anyway:  We carry backpacks with "26.2" or "Runner Dude/Chick" water bottles sticking out of every possible pocket, we wear compression socks, we are snacking on clif bars and plastic packets of peanut butter, we are reading Runners World and Running Times Magazine, and we get up to pee 732 times before we board.  I think I won the captain obvious award however.  I did not fully finish drying my race apparel the night before, so I laid it out to air dry in the airport.  Totally normal.

Upon arriving at Logan Airport, all my conversations with runners (and I had a lot of them) began with either, "How will you adjust your race with the heat?" or, my favorite, a simple, "WTF (said in its non-acronym form) is up with this heat?"  Mike and I shared a cab with two gents from Kentucky, and they were busy using an online calculator to convert their goal times into heat-adjusted goals.  Again, totally normal.  When we arrived at the Omni, most runners were somewhat freaking out, although still smiling, and there was a certain comfort in this.  Despite all the email warnings from the Boston Athletic Association urging runners to, um, not run, that would not be an option for the majority of us; we all trained hard for this day, and we were in it together.

 My own little fan club

Athletes' Village:  "A Long Ride on the Way to a Long Ride"

My alarm went off at 5am, but since the race did not begin until 10am, I didn't need to hoover my bagel or take a body glide bath just yet.  Lucky for me, the buses to Athletes' Village were parked right outside the Omni, so at 6am, I headed out and joined the sea of runners waiting to board.  On the bus, I met Cassidy from Arizona, and we quickly became Athletes' Village BFF's.  We also met Mark and Dave, two gents from North Dakota.  We took pictures of each other in proper runner-nerd fashion, but I apparently took the nerd-cake as I boarded the bus with a beach chair, blanket, and pillow.  What!?  If my ass was going to be sitting for almost three hours, I demanded comfort!

Once at the Village, it was quite the site.  The temps were rising, so water bottles were strewn about and runners were already stripped down to practically nothing.  The body glide baths had begun, and I saw more ass that day than is ever necessary.  I waited perhaps a little too long to take my final pee.  The port-o-pot lines were loooong, and after 30 anxious minutes, I was finally out with just enough time to start my own stripping and the long walk to the start line.  After a 45-minute bus ride, a two-plus hour sit-and-wait-fest, and a mile walk to the start line, it was finally time to melt run.

Um, yeah, thanks.  We get it.  It's going to be hot.

That's right, how you like my chair now, suckas?!

Cassidy and I

Start Line:  "Shit, I'm Already Sweating!"

Here we go!  I must say, I was more relaxed now than before any other marathon.  The day was turning out even hotter than predicted (80 degrees at the start), so the pressure was off.  I carried a 10 ounce bottle of nuun with me to the line, which I discarded when I realized that 10 ounces would certainly do me no good.  Even if there was 10 ounces of magical-heat-crusher-fairy-dust in there, it still wouldn't have mattered.  Once in position, I looked down at my feet for the twelfth time to neurotically ensure my laces were tied and noticed beads of sweat already dripping down my stomach.  Then I heard the guy next to me say, "Shit, I'm already sweating!", to which we both just laughed and wished each other a fun and SAFE run.

Miles 1-6:  "I Got This.  Or Not?  But, Really, I Do.  Or Not?"

On a good day, the goal in Boston was to go out conservatively around 7:10 pace, and then pick it up once I settled in.  At the 5k mark, I was on 7:13 pace, and at the 10k mark, 7:09 pace.  Perfect!  Or not?  The first six miles felt effortless, but I could already feel the monster starting to set in.  And by "the monster", I mean "the sun".  It's ironic, really, that one of the daily affirmations I was supposed to tell myself while training was "I love the sun."  Mm hmm, yeah, okay.  I went through mile four in 6:58, and whereas I normally wouldn't blink at that pace, today I was twitching.  I knew I would need to slow down.  Or not?!  I was still confident that I COULD PR; I mean, why not?  I trained for this!  ...aaand that's when I saw the "Quit Zone".  In Ashland, there was an ice cream shop, open and cheering for runners to stop, call it a day, and eat free ice cream.  Hilarious.  ...aaand tempting I must add.  Although some runners did stop, I forged on, noticing that many runners around me were already breathing very hard.  Somewhere around mile six, I saw my first open fire hydrant and got VERY excited.  That's when I realized this might be trouble.  Twenty miles to go, and I was overly excited to see a fire hydrant.  Twenty miles to go.  Oh.  My.  God.

Miles 7-10:  "Negotiations"

Around the seven mile mark in Framingham, I spotted a digital clock with a temperature reading of 85 degrees, followed by a digital sign warning runners, "HOT, HOT, HOT!"  Um, really?  ...because we were unsure of that.  By this time, the sun had me under it's ugly pretty big little rays.  Problem was, I wasn't ready to throw the towel in just yet.  I did, however, start grabbing cold, soaked towels from spectators.  The water stations were getting backed up, and as you approached them, you barreled off the soaked backs of other runners.  To ensure they had enough water for everyone, volunteers pulled back if you grabbed for more than one cup.  Runners were already dropping like hot cakes ("dropping like hot cakes"...does that even make sense?!).  Walking.  Sitting on curbs.  Cramping.  Gasping.  One man in good spirits started singing, to which another man responded, "Shut it, dude!"  My body knew I needed to slow down, but my brain was still determined.  I can still do this!  But I'm not sure I should.  YOU BOUGHT A $100 MARATHON JACKET...KEEP GOING!  Slow.  Down.  At mile 9, I got somewhat of a second wind, which lasted about 8.5 seconds.  At this point, another runner, Missy, started chatting with me.  She seemed un-phased by the heat and was giving encouragement to everyone she could.  Hrmpff.  By mile 10, I finally decided that finishing and surviving was the most important goal for the day.  I consciously slowed down by about 20-30 seconds per mile, which felt great.  It would not be the day I hoped for, but now I could relax and enjoy a long run with 20,000+ hot friends.

Drenched

Miles 11-13:  "Here Comes the Sun, Little Darlin', and I say, it sucks It's Alright"

Did I say "relax and enjoy a long run"?  Yeah, I lied.  Despite the slower pace, everything started to hurt.  The monster was cruel, very cruel.  You physically could not consume enough water to keep sufficiently hydrated.  EVERYONE was cramping.  My quads and hamstrings started to go.  Anytime there would be the slightest bit of shade on the road, everyone rushed to that side.  It usually took me to the end of the shady spot to realize why everyone was over there, so yeah, I'm dumb.  Spectators were out in full force, with kids handing out popsicles.  I still had too much pride in myself to actually take a popsicle, despite how delicious they looked.  I started looking forward to Wellesley College, which was where those supposedly-crazy-loud-awesome girls would give me a jolt of energy and pump me up to the finish line.  I gotta say, they were kind of a big deal.  Thank you, gals!  Shortly thereafter, a group of spectators was singing the Beatles to us, "Here comes the sun, little runners, here comes the sun, and we say, you're alriiiiiiight!"  It really made me smile...

Water tunnels were set up along the route.  Thank.  God.

Miles 14-20:  "Oblivion"

Right foot.  Left Foot.  Right foot.  Left foot.  GIVE ME A POPSICLE (Pride?  Who gives a shit about pride!?).  High-fives for ALL!   Thumbs up!  Hey, look!  It's MarathonFoto!  SMIIIIIIIILE!  Hmm, what do I want to eat after I'm done?  Burrrggeeerrrrr.  ...and I'll have white wine instead of red since it's cold.  Hey, look!  There's Missy!  Oh, no, the monster bit Missy.  I wonder how tan I am getting right now?  Ice bags.  ZIPLOC ICE BAGS!  Yay!  Ice, Ice baby...  Drop ice into bra and into front of shorts.  I look lumpy, teehee.  Boston College drunk boys are the BEST CHEERLEADERS EVER.  Hill?  Oh yeah, those Newton thingies.  Quad cramp.  Walk up it.  Oh shit, charlie horse.  RUN up it!  Another popsicle. YAY!  Spread-eagle spray hose station.  YAY!   High heat alert sign.  REALLY?  Is it hot?  I hadn't noticed.  Do not look at the medical tents.  OMG they are filled!  DO NOT LOOK AT THE MEDICAL TENTS!  Did I just pass three elite females?  Whewee!  Mental note: look up who bib "F22" is.  My sunglasses need windshield wipers; I can't see!  Did a spectator just say it is 89 degrees?  Oh.  That's not good.  Aww, look at that runner making out with the BC dude.  Wait, what?  HERE COMES THE SUN, LITTLE DARLIN', doo-do-doo-do.  Gatorade.  Burrrp.

Making the most of the day with a Mile 19 Photo Opp!

Miles 21-26:  "Do the Pez Dispenser!"

For a moment, despite the agony that was 90 degrees, I was a little sad as I passed mile 20.  In six miles, my Boston Marathon experience would be over.  Then, my left calf cramped, and the thought of it being over was FREAKING AWESOME.  There were times in the final six miles that I felt a burst of energy, but there was no point in taking advantage of it.  Why not?  For starters, I might, um, die, and second, all goals had come off the table anyway.  Just finish.  Safely.  Heartbreak Hill was really nothing in which to raise your eyebrows.  Granted, the cramping made it more challenging, but if you train on rolling terrain, it is no big deal.  At the mile 22 water station, there was nothing positioned on the left hand side of the road as there were at all the other water stops.  Therefore, I missed water all together.  Between miles 20 and 23, I HAD NO WATER.  This was tough, as this was when we needed it the most, and my right quad seized up on me.  I found comfort in encouraging other stopped runners to keep going, that we were almost there.  When the 1-mile to go sign appeared, I became a little emotional.  I trained hard for a less-than-ideal day.  I never felt so much discomfort, yet so much enjoyment at the same time.  I knew that the best finish line in the world awaited me.  With a half mile left, my calf about gave out on me.  That's when I yelled, "Come on, y'all, let's do the pez dispenser!"  Pez Dispenser:  heads bobbing uncontrollably, legs completely unbent to prevent further cramping.  If you've ever seen "Saved By the Bell",  you might remember Lisa doing "the sprain".  I must say, I never imagined that in my final moments of the Boston Marathon, I'd be thinking about...Screech.

26.2:  "Tears, Laughter...and Wheelchairs"

This was it.  After rounding that final turn, the finish line came in clear view.  After passing the 26 mile mark, the sun's rays could shine no brighter than the smile on my face.  I was choked up, with sweat beads and laughter at what this day brought streaming through my body.  The crowd was still in full force, cheering as my eyes kept focused on that line ahead.  Once across, I was shocked to see what awaited us:  wheelchairs.  A medical professional greeted me as I raised my arms in glory, then lowered them down in defeat, to ask if I was okay.  As I continued walking, another medical professional gave me a huge hug.  Whomever this person is, they deserve a raise.  Yes, that is right, the "Finish Line Hugger" for the hot-as-balls 2012 Boston Marathon DESERVES A BIG-ASS RAISE.  I feel as though we walked a mile...maybe even more...to collect our medal, food, blanket, and bags before finally reaching the family reunion area, where Mike greeted me with a beautiful, yellow rose.  I finished the Boston Marathon in 3:27:28, my slowest marathon to date by over 13 minutes, and a far cry from the sub-3:06 (PR) I was confident in, but at that moment in time, a hug from the person that loves me most was better than anything.

All.  Done.  ...and smiling!

Of all my races, I have never been prouder.

A badly cramped runner making it across the line

Runners await their turn in the finish line medical tents.

Got my burger!

"Redemption"

What!?  You can't expect me to have trained that well and not consider a redemption marathon.  Sheesh!  After the marathon was over, runners around Boston were seen limping, wearing their medals and jackets, and telling stories about their 26.2 experience.  Elevator (the stairwells were, um, empty) conversation was mostly about seeking redemption on this perfect, worst race.  It seems that most runners tried to run their pace for the first six miles, but realized, stubbornly, that they would not be able to continue if they wanted to finish safely.  So, we all slowed down, and when that felt hard, we slowed down more, until all we could do was hang on and "enjoy" the ride.  None of us planned for this, so why not plan for another?  My plan is to keep running (I took two days off and felt good enough to get right back at it) and see how I feel in a few weeks.  If my body feels too trashed, then no, I will not run another.  If I feel good, however, I'll see another city very soon for my next 26.2.     

So, that bib I passed?  #F22?  That was Mary Akor, a 2:33 marathoner that competed in the Olympic Marathon Trials in January.  In Boston 2012, Mary finished in 3:14.  It is even more humbling to realize how much the elites struggled.

To everyone that ran and finished, to those that started and unfortunately did not finish, and to those that ended up in the hospital instead of at the finish line, congratulations for merely having the courage to START.  I hope everyone's recovery has been healthy and full of pride.  We will forever have stories to tell and be able to say, 

"I survived the 2012 Boston Marathon." 

 (btw, this needs to be a t-shirt!)

Most importantly, a huge debt of gratitude is owed to the volunteers, and even more so, to the spectators.  Without them, there would have been many more runners needing medical assistance, and their candor and encouragement was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

And now, without further ado, given Vanilla Ice's lyrics flowing through my hot head somewhere around mile 18, I rewrote a few verses for what would be a great 2012 Boston Marathon theme song, set to, of course, Ice Ice baby.

Go ahead.  Click below.  Change the lyrics.  Embrace your inner nerd.  Sing along.

Ice Ice Baby 

New lyrics:

Yo, BAA, we did it!

Ice ice baby
Ice ice baby

All right, stop

Rehydrate and listen
Ice was there giving us some attention
The sun, grabbed a hold of us brightly

Stuck rays in our face and said, "go bite me!"
Did it ever stop?
Yo, hey-ull no

Turned up its heat, that's fo sho

In the extremes, we weren't sure we could handle

 Curse at the sun, you damn, mighty lil' vandal

Walk

Rush aid stations real soon

  We're killin' our legs, and there ain't no nuun

 Deadly, shoulda had more gel with me

Anything less than my best is a felony

Slow it or stop it

I lost too much weight

Betta eat freeze pops

The heat don't play

I think there is a problem

Yo, I'll solve it

Check out my ice before the sun dissolves it

Ice ice baby, give me more

 Ice ice baby, give me more

Ice ice baby, give me more

Ice ice baby, give me more...

*************************************

Thanks, Boston.  That was a humbling experience, but you still take the cake (mmm, cake)!

Happy...cool...running, y'all!

Diary of a Marathoning Madwoman

Happy Easter!  Or, as I've called it this year, Happy Feaster!  Mike and I had a bunch of friends over to celebrate with us, and feasted did we!  Last year, we had a semi-Jewish friend over for the holiday, and we therefore termed it, Happy Jeaster!  Stay tuned for next year; you never know what corny-type event we'll be terming up. 

Feaster

One week 'til Boston!  I thought I would start documenting my thoughts each day over the next week so I can go back, re-read them, and realize what a moron I am before the race.  

4/8:  Today was moderately unstable.  I completed my final longish run this morning and then emailed Tom letting him know what a mentally-unstable-hot-mess I am.  I was supposed to run the first six miles at marathon pace.  Translation in Jen's head:  just in case marathon pace feels hard (which would be bad), let's run wayyy faster, because that way, it is supposed to feel hard (which would be okay).  I mean, wtf is wrong with me?  Dumbass.  After sulking to Mike about not running the workout right, I got over it and recovered well with a big bowl of pasta and side vodka cocktail, which was unnecessary awesome.  The weekend before Feaster began, however, was not so awesome.  After eight 800's averaging 2:54ish on Thursday (which I was psyched about), I worked on my feet all day Friday and Saturday.  My legs pretty much hated me, and I therefore became crabby.  Over the past week, I've also had a nagging ache on top of my foot.  Therefore, my Saturday crabbiness was slightly overturned when Dr. Fields (best sports-medicine doctor ever...and Frank Shorter's college roommate!) came into the store.  I obviously hijacked him, threw my stinky foot in his face, and was quickly assured that a metatarsal strain would be no big deal.  Anywho, let's get back to things that actually are awesome, like SirMixaLot.  Coming off my enjoyment of "Baby Got Back" on my iPod, I decided to plug the booty king into Pandora, and here are some other gems I was reunited with:  "Wild Thing", "O.P.P", "Insane in the Brain" (which may or may not have been written about me), and "Bust a Move".  I'll stop writing on that note...bust a move.  'Tis what I need to do in one week!

Takeaways from today:  Run the correct paces this week; it is a taper after all.  Vodka is not a good precursor to wine.  I like rap music?!

4/9: 80 degrees.  Yep, just checked the ol' weather forecast for Monday in Beantown, and the high is 80.  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?!  So, we will hope that number comes down to more Boston-like standards, say 50's or 60's.  Is that too much to ask, Mama Nature?  Work with me, lady!  Granted, the weather forecast changes more in a week than I change my socks (and I go through a butt-load of socks), so we shall see.  Anywho, can't control it, so enough obsessing over that.  Let's obsess over something else:  sneezing.   It's funny how things in the week before a race become so much more prominent in the mind than at other times.  Like, sneezing.  So, yeah, I totally sneezed a bunch this morning.  Uh oh.  UH OH!  I'm getting sick!  Five weeks ago, I would have chalked it up to our house being too dusty, or actually, I probably wouldn't have noticed it at all, but nope, not today.  Totally sick, obviously.  Or not.  Work was crazy again today, and despite not eating lunch until 3pm, I did a good job of sitting when I did not need to be standing.  I also worked all day in my new K-Swiss recovery sneaks, which I highly recommend if you have not tried them.  They feel like someone is suffocating your feet with pillows...but in a good way.  At the end of the day, one of my runners gave me a card that read "To My Coach, My Inspiration".  That was enough to turn the entire day into a fantastic one.  Inspiring others to do what I love is an amazing feeling, and I feel grateful for it every single day.  I can't wait for Monday!  Actually, no, not even just Monday, the whole weekend and being surrounded by everything and everyone running!  

Takeaways from today:  In my next life, I will be a weatherman; you can be wrong 80% of the time, and you can still get a good performance review.  I'm a compression addict. 

4/10:   So, today I was in the gym, and as I was lifting five pound free weights (Shut up!  I'm not a very big person!), a random guy started talking to me.  Mmk, two pet peeves here:  When I am in the middle of a set, I can't don't want to talk, and when I have headphones in my ears, I have no idea what you are saying anyway.  The problem was, I couldn't even understand the guy without my headphones.  When I put the weights down and turned my music off, his statements went something like this, "Yo lady (lady, really?!) hsksvkn words jlvksjljoj sugar words words you gettin' into jisjegkjo."  I asked him to repeat himself three times, finally felt like an ass, and just blurted out, "I'm running a marathon on Monday!"  His response, "Oooh, how fahh dees one?"  *turns headphones back on*

I went for a nice, easy run today with some striders afterwards, and the foot feels pretty good.  Excellent!  To keep that up, I iced my leg from the shin down in a deep spaghetti pot.  For dinner, my friend, Emily, came over, and we ate spaghetti.  No, Emily, that was not parmesan cheese in your pasta...........ew, okay, gross.  I swear I do not use said spaghetti pot for actual, um, spaghetti anymore.  I am also supposed to be getting in 110 grams of protein a day this week, which I decided is moderately impossible unless I bathe in it, which would be grossly gelatinous.  And on that note, I am going to stop typing, as too many disgusting words are flying off my fingers right now.

Takeaways from today:  When in the gym from now on, play dumb.  Gelatinous has officially been added to my list of extremely-disgusting-never-to-be-used words:  mucous, moist, crusty...and gelatinous.  

4/11:  It was cold today!  This is how Boston needs to be.  Jus' sayin'.  I went out for a nice, easy trail run this morning, which was awesome.  The last two times I've been on the trails, I have not seen another single soul.  I usually like seeing other runners and bikers out and about, but for some reason today, I found it quite peaceful.  As I did a few striders back in the parking lot afterwards, a cyclist stopped me and said, "It is a pleasure watching you run."  That actually gave me chills (and not because I was cold).  All hyped up from a good run, I decided to start obsessing over looking at race logistics, i.e. where to catch the buses to the start, where I will stuff my face the night before, expo info, and what to bring with me to Athlete's Village.  This all brought me to the Runner's World forums page.  This also brought me to tears of laughter.  Here is what some other Boston runners are obsessing over saying:

"Well, since people keep saying worrying about the weather won't change anything for Boston, can I start worrying about the weather for the NYC marathon?"

"My son was home sick with a cold yesterday.  Usually I would make the best of it and hang out and read with him on the couch.  Instead, I wore a mask and avoided him like the plague."

"Now I just have to get over the fact that I'm flying on Friday the 13th....."

Oh, and this guy...
wtf?!

Takeaways from today:  All runners are crazy, weird, type-A, and obsessive.  And awesome of course.  You see!?  I'm totally normal (for a runner).

4/12:  Second track workout in a row...nailed!  The track and I are starting to rekindle a friendship.  I did not do very well on my 4/8 "takeaway from today" however; I ran too fast.  I felt controlled with less effort though while running paces that felt wayyy harder a few weeks ago.  It's all coming together. :)  The workout was short too, sticking well to taper standards.  After my cooldown home, I was taken aback to notice my little Zoe's head, which was now completely infected above her eye.  A visit to the vet unveiled an absess caused by the groomer's potentially un-sanitized scissors.  After draining it, administering an antibiotic injection, and some prednisone (and a $280 bill, yikes!), I brought Zoe to work with me.  She needed a lot of loving, which I knew my Streakers would be good for.  I am really beginning to think there is some sort of correlation between my marathons and Zoe getting eye infections, hmm...

What did I do wrong, Mom?

The cone of shame.

The Streakers made it all better!  duh.



One of the docs at the vet is also running Boston, so while the babe (eh hem, Zoe) was being taken care of by another doc, we did a little race strategizing.  We talked mostly about the crazy weather, which is really starting to look...............awful.

Takeaways from today:  Find a new groomer.  Yep, that's about it.

4/13:  Happy Friday the 13th, yikes!  I keep checking the calendar to make sure it's not actually April Fool's Day because some weather forecasts are now saying it could reach 90 degrees in Boston on Monday.  This HAS to be a JOKE.    Really, Boston!?  Looking back on the forums to hopefully gain some laughter again, runners are not laughing.  Some have even canceled their trips altogether.  I would never go that far, but it is important to remember to run smart and still have fun in the process.  I was really starting to freak out yesterday; I am READY TO RUN, so why does something out of my control have to get in my way?   However, when it comes down to it, it is what it is, and we need to make the best of it.  If the "best of it" means being safe and kissing the Wellesley girls along the way, then so be it.  I received a call at home from the vet this morning, thinking they were calling to check on the babe, but it was the doc running Boston asking if she can buy salt tablets in the store, ha!  Love it!  I actually feel more relaxed now that I am accepting the forecast; I will give it my all in return for what the day gives me.

And on that note, I gotta pack!  Woohoo!  Here I come Beantown!

Takeways from today:  Heat or no heat, it is still the Boston Marathon, and it will be awesome!