The Pattern Trap

Growing up, my mom watched a lot of home decorating/ home improvement shows (you know, the stuff on channels like HGTV) and from time to time the whole family would watch along with her. There was one particular show, one particular episode of a show, I don't remember what it was called, hosted by a very effiminate man named Christopher Lowell in which he discussed the disasterous decorating faux pas of the "Pattern Trap," the continued use of one pattern throughout an entire room's decor. For some reason, I have a feeling it had something to do with the repulsion in Christopher Lowell's voice as he squealed about the horrors of the dreaded Pattern Trap, it stuck with my dad, my sister and I, and we adopted the phrase into our family in relation to pretty much anything, but usually to get out of doing things like organizing, re-loading the dishwasher, etc. (I have a feeling that most people don't have to deal with re-loading a dishwasher, so I will explain- my sister and I have never been very good at efficiently loading the dishwasher- out of pure laziness really- and therefore would often be charged with re-loading it... to which, thanks to Christopher Lowell, we would respond, "I would, but I don't want to fall into a Pattern Trap.")

ANYWAYS, I bring up the Pattern Trap because I fear that I have fallen into one- not in relation to decor, of course, but in my actions. If you look at my December blog posts from last year, you will notice that there really aren't any. And, when I finally got back to blogging in January, I admitted that between the holiday season, the frigid cold, and getting sick, I hadn't done much running (or blogging for that matter). Well, my friends... I feel a Pattern Trap coming on. This December started out alright. I managed to get in a couple long runs, kept up my fitness on the arc trainer when I was hurt. But then the holidays got into full swing- eating and drinking with friends seemed so much more appealing than running- it got cold, it snowed a lot, and I got sick. On top of all that, I didn't write one blog entry for almost an entire month. In my defense, I've been trying, at least on the running front, a lot harder than I did last year. I have at least attempted running, but being sick/ injured didn't do me many favors and what runs I have gotten in have been painful, slow and all around difficult. Overall, December has been pretty much a failure on the training front.

I wouldn't be so upset about this little slump if it weren't for the fact that I have a half marathon to run at the end of January, on which my faith in my ability to ever have another good race again precariously rests. Which brings me to yet another Pattern Trap that I've gotten myself caught in... the one where I am running really well for months leading up to a race until about a month out from race day when my legs unexpectedly decide to crap out on me and don't recover until the day after said race. I don't know if it's a mental thing, or a physical thing, but whatever it is, I don't like it.

This whole Pattern Trap thing shouldn't/ doesn't really come as much of a surprise to me. I've been the mark of consistency my entire life- caught in an eternal Pattern Trap, if you will. My life, for the most part, is based around routine, pattern, and habits (I wonder if that's why I find running with no planned route so liberating...) Regardless, I've never really seen much of a downside to my routine until now.

Which brings me to last night. I got home from the airport after my Christmas trip to Chicago around 5:30 and decided to give running another shot (I had tried the day before to do a long run and failed miserably with a brutal 3 miles). I threw on my running clothes, laced up my sneaks, and headed out the door, all the while cursing my legs, and the Pattern Traps that I had convinced myself I had fallen victim to. I ran over to the river to do a loop... undecided as of yet the exact distance that I was going to do. Laboring through the first mile, I got to thinking that maybe this run wasn't the best idea. But then, just as I hit the pavement next to the river behind the Sonesta Hotel, just past the Museum of Science, I felt my body suddenly fall into rhythm. I picked up speed slightly and was delighted to find the movements felt comfortable, and familiar. Settling into a pace that felt difficult, but not overly strenuous, I found peace in the pattern-like motions of my arms and legs. This particular pattern, though, felt nothing like a trap, but rather like a release of all of the pent up frustration and disappointment that I felt about the last month's (lack of) running.

Maybe last night's run was merely a fluke, a random good run in the midst of horrible ones, or maybe the traps are all in my head and I've had that run in me all along, who knows. But what I do know is that after all of my moaning and groaning, the tears (yes, I cried after a particularly frustrating run), the aches and pains, the sitting inside during the blizzard, and the skipping of runs in favor of holiday fun, all it took to break me of my Pattern Trap blues was a return to my old standby river loop and the rhythm of my legs finally working in harmony with the rest of my body. So, I still lost a month of decent training... there's not much I can do about that now. I can only do my best for January and hope that my body stays strong and is ready to run at the end of the month. And as for the Pattern Trap where I have a horrible time in races whenever it's hot outside... I'm already praying for a cold front in Miami on the 25th...

I've been doing a lot more eating than running...

Let me first start this by saying that I love love love eating. I do it a lot, and I don't eat all that healthfully. Sure, I'll eat a salad every now and again, a few veggies, maybe some fruit, but I certainly would not call myself health conscious, at least as far as my eating habits go. My favorite food group is that tiny one on the top of the food pyramid that you're supposed to "eat sparingly," I believe they classify it as "Fats, Oils and Sweets." Yum. (FYI when I was looking up the name of the section of the food pyramid I found out, much to my dismay, that they have redesigned the food pyramid. The "Fats, Oils and Sweets" section isn't even on there! For this reason, I'm sticking with the old guide) Anyways, my fondness of all things bad for me makes my running hobby all the more convenient. I eat a lot of crap, but I run it off so it's a-okay (my doctor would probably hit me for saying that).

So this all brings me to the past long weekend which I spent in Chicago with my family for Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving, as you could probably guess, is one of my favorite holidays because it revolves around, you guessed it, eating- especially in my family. So eat I did. And not just on Thanksgiving. All weekend long I stuffed myself full of delicious food that I would never ever cook for myself at home in Boston because it involves more work than putting it in the microwave. And then I came back to Boston and it was my birthday and I ate some more, and I threw some drinks in there too because, well, it was my birthday. All of this eating, and, aside from a great 7 mile run on Monday night, very minimal exercise. I even, in an act of sheer desperation, attempted to wake up and run before work this morning. Of course, I was too sleepy and lethargic from all of the food and wine I had last night to actually get out of bed so I just turned off my alarm and went back to sleep. And now I find myself here on Wednesday, with very few prospects of times to run or go to the gym for the rest of the week, and I feel... gross, really gross.

I'm not one to stress about being fat or skinny. I, like a lot of people, had issues with weight and body image etc. at one point in my life, but, for the most part, I'm over all of that. I owe a lot of that to running because rather than worrying about what my body looks like, I've figured out it's much more important what it feels like- whether during a run or just sitting around. When I'm training or just staying on top of my running, my body feels strong and healthy. When I'm sitting around all of the time and stuffing my face with cookies, well... it doesn't feel so hot. But, the good thing about all of this is, I have the power to change it. Sure, this week is a little crazy and there isn't a lot of time to run or exercise, but I know I'll be back on track next week and hopefully back to feeling good again. Until then, I'll just have to live with feeling a little sluggish and lazy and get a run in when I get the chance... and maybe limit my cookie intake over the next couple of days...

Happy Birthday to Me

A lot of people think that voluntarily running 26.2 miles is crazy. A lot of people think that running that far as well as committing yourself to raise $17,000 is totally insane. Nevermind how crazy it is that as a member of DFMC you not only apply to be a member of the team, but you also pay money to endure 7 months of training culminating in 4 hours of pain (aka the marathon). Granted, along with the lengthy training season and brutal race, you also get training/ injury advice from the one and only Jack Fultz, a super snazzy DFMC singlet, and the chance to spend tons of time with the coolest people around- but all of that, good and bad, doesn't come cheap. So, this year, for my birthday, which was yesterday, I asked for DFMC as my present, and my dad happily obliged (thanks Dad!) May the training season be long and frigid, the beers full and cold, and the runs and post-runs be filled with fun and laughter... this is one birthday present that's going to last me all year. Happy Birthday to me.

Going nowhere fast

There is nothing quite so frustrating as moving your legs frantically for an hour and never actually going anywhere. This has only recently occurred to me as I've spent the past week cooped up in the gym on the god-forsaken arc trainer. The truth is, before I was much of a runner, back in college, I was a total gym rat- I logged countless hours on the treadmill and the elliptical machine in Holy Cross's little, stiflingly hot gym. I just wanted to burn a few calories, I was certainly not looking to get anywhere. Little did I know just what I was missing out on...

There is a certain joy that I get from feeling my legs propel me over the ground; a certain sense of accomplishment that I get from watching the pavement escape behind me from underneath my Asics; a certain pride I get from my feet touching as many different areas of the city as possible.  As much as the arc trainer may be able to simulate for your muscles what it feels like to run, it can never simulate for your body and mind the feeling of covering ground.  I'm still following Jack's prescribed time off of running, but I would be lying if I said I was enjoying it.  Only a few more days and I'm back on the roads...

Trying to listen for once

Yesterday Jack told me that I need to take two weeks off of running to help take care of a nagging muscle strain in my left thigh. It was not what I wanted to hear. In fact, I didn't even want to talk to him about it because I knew what his solution would be. But, my muscle truly has been bothering me, so much so that yesterday after getting home from the first timer's run, I resigned myself to the fact that I would be logging some quality time on the arc trainer for the next couple of weeks. And then I woke up this morning...

I'd be lying if I said that when I woke up today, the first thing I thought to myself wasn't, "How long of a run should I do today?" The sun was slightly peaking out from behind light clouds and I could feel the unseasonably warm breeze coming through my window- the day was calling to me to get out there and run (it's funny how quickly I forget about things when I don't really want to do them). Of course, I'm not a morning runner, so, I put on my running clothes, threw on my trusty HC sweatshirt, and took my computer down to the coffee shop for some caffeine, a muffin, and some quality time with my mailing list of potential DFMC donors. After a couple of hours, I decided to head home and clean my room for a bit and then I'd head out on my run. It was noticeably colder on the short walk back up to my apartment than it had been only a couple of hours earlier. And by the time I finally felt like doing something active, it seemed that the temperature had dropped almost 15 degrees including the wind chill. It was downright freezing! I thought about my options, changed into sweatpants, tossed my shorts in a bag and headed over to the gym.

So, while my intentions were not good, I did end up following Jack's advice on the no running thing today. I put in a solid hour on the arc trainer, and I actually felt pretty good about it. While I was working out, I got to thinking about why I'm so stubborn when it comes to running. I mean, it's something that I complain about doing constantly, yet when someone tells me that I shouldn't do it, it's all I can do to keep myselt from tying my Asics up right then and there and going for a 10 mile run. I know part of my issue is that I have worked so hard to get into the running shape that I am in now that I'd hate to lose it, and somewhere in my head the ONLY way to stay in that shape is to keep on running- injured or not. Sure, I know that's not entirely true, but you try reasoning with my head.

Regardless of my crazy head though, I do recognize the importance of letting myself get better and not continuing to agitate my muscle until I make it much worse. I'm hoping that by saying here on my blog that I plan to take at least a week off of running (Jack said two I know... I'm taking baby steps here) I will feel accountable and I will actually do it. I can get some quality workouts in on the arc trainer (while trying not to go insane with boredom while I'm at it) and, hopefully sooner rather than later, my leg will be back to its good old self again and I will be back on the roads. Until then, I'll be counting the days that I'm stuck in the gym, and hoping that the weather stays unappealing enough not to tempt me to run.

First Timer's Run

Yesterday morning, I was lucky enough to go to the First Timer's Run for DFMC even though I am neither first timer, nor DFMC board member, the usual attendees of this particular run.  I remember so vividly waking up that morning last year, butterflies in my stomach, driving (and getting lost on the way) over to the Mt. Auburn Club, nervously getting out of my zipcar and meeting Shifter at the end of the parking lot wearing a Holy Cross sweatshirt, anxiously putting on my running shoes and stretching out my legs for the run ahead, running the last of the run with Shifter, then meeting all of my new teammates (Linds included) during our gathering afterwards, and then leaving with that glowing warmth inside which I have come to associate with all of our DFMC gatherings since that very first day.  I was really excited to have the opportunity to be a part of the day for the first timers this year and help to make it as special a morning for them as it was for me a year ago.  It was funny though, as I left the run yesterday, aside from the warm happy feeling that customarily comes with spending time with my DFMC teammates, I had two very distinct and very conflicting feelings. 

On the one hand, I was overcome with jealousy of the first timers- especially those who had never run a marathon before.  While it is frightening to approach marathon training unsure of whether or not your body is capable of handling the mileage and the wear and tear of the season, there is something so nice about not knowing what you are getting yourself into.  You know what they say, ignorance is bliss.  Without knowing how much a long run can hurt, or how the chills from a cold Crossroads run won't disappear for hours, or how the blisters from your running sneaks won't allow you to wear shoes for a week, you can approach your training blissfully unaware of what you are about to put your body through.  Sure, you've heard stories, but without the personal experience you never truly know what you are getting yourself into.  Clearly, I signed up again, the bad parts of training were not nearly enough to deter me from running DFMC again, but I hate to think that I will approach any part of the experience with dread or come away with feelings of disappointment.  I know that last year there were times that I dreaded a run, but that was because I was unsure that I would be able to do it.  This year, I know that I should be able to do it- it's a lot of pressure, and I think I've established how much I hate to disappoint myself (I'm repeating over and over in my head to myself right now "set goals, not expectations").  

So anyways, while on the one hand I was jealous of the first timers, on the other, I felt completely unlike the "veteran runner" that Jan introduced me as.  Sure, I did the whole thing last year, but I certainly would never put myself in the ranks of teammates like Shifter and the other vets who helped to make last year so incredible for me.  It's strange to me to think that I'll be a fundraising coach this year (did I not mention that before?  well, I'm going to be a fundraising coach), not because I don't think that I have something to offer, but, that being said, I still sometimes feel so new to DFMC.  So this is where that whole conflict comes in- I'm jealous of the people that are actually new to the team, and yet I don't quite feel so un-new to the team myself.

But, despite all of this inner conflict, more than anything I'm extremely excited to be getting back into the DFMC season.  And, with the first timers run behind me, and Thanksgiving quickly approaching, it's time for me to get back to blogging regularly, which I will be the first to admit I was somewhat lazy about doing this summer and fall.  Let the blogging/ fundraising/ training begin!

Run Jeffrey Run

There are few people in this world that I would wake up at 5 am on a Sunday and travel down to New York City just for the day for. There are even fewer people who I would do this for only to watch them run by in a speeding blur twice for mere seconds. Fellow DFMC runner, and member of the original "best carpool ever," Jeff, is one of those people. Jeff ran the NYC Marathon yesterday, and Tyler and I made the trek down to the city to surprise our fastest friend and cheer him on as he kicked major marathon-running butt (he ran a 2:47... see I told you he's fast). It was a long, but fantastic and fun day, and it was great to see Jeff after he deserted us for some dumb job in Washington, DC (kidding, sort of... the job isn't dumb, him living in DC is). It was also great to watch another big marathon being run (I've only ever seen Boston before) and inspired me to maybe (this is a big maybe) try to run a marathon in another city (in addition to Boston) at some point. Both Tyler and Jeff plan to do New York next year, so maybe I'll throw my name in the lottery next year and see what happens (I've still got several months and a Boston Marathon to run before I make any official decisions). For now, though, a huge congrats to Jeff for a fantastic race yesterday... way to do DFMC proud!!

Self Improvement

I've spent a lot of time the past couple of weeks thinking about how I'm going to train for whatever race comes next while hopefully 1) enjoying myself; and 2) not feeling like crap in the middle of the race, and I've come to a few conclusions as to how I'm going to accomplish this. Here they are:

1) Get a watch. Ever since I started this whole running thing, I have been anti-watch. At first it was because I just simply wanted to finish a marathon, I didn't need to be bogged down with the details of how long it was going to take me. And then, after I had finished the marathon and I started working on getting faster this summer, I still wasn't interested in a watch. I didn't want to become obsessed with speed and time. I just wanted to run and enjoy it, and hopefully be faster in the process. It worked at first. But the more I run, the more I realize that I have absolutely no concept of how fast I'm going. Which is just fine and dandy when running loops around the river, but not so awesome for running races. My little problem of starting too fast could be easily helped if I had a watch to tell me to slow down a bit, not to mention, if I wear a watch to train, I would actually know what too slow and too fast for me are. I realize these are things I probably should have figured out a long long time ago...

2) Have a training schedule. Running as far as you want, as fast as you want ,whenever you feel like it is fun and certainly has its merits, but there's something to be said for having some sort of plan to all of those miles. I followed a training schedule (sort of) for the marathon last year and I was in good shape for those 26 miles, I did not follow any sort of training schedule for my races this summer and, well... some of them were good, some of them were bad. Sure, not every race you train for is going to go well, but actually training for said races seems to be the first step. I think I would probably benefit from having a little structure to my training and being accountable for some runs. Of course, I'll still go on my city-wandering runs, but (and this is another place where the watch could come in handy) maybe, just maybe, having some sort of plan for mileage may be helpful.

3) Buy some new running clothes. Because everything is a little more fun in new clothes :)

4) Attitude adjusment. I have got to stop beating myself up everytime I have a bad run or race, which is easier said than done. I expect a lot of myself, and hopefully, with a little preparation, I'll be able live up to it. But all the preparation and training in the world can't prevent bad runs and disappointment from happening sometimes. So, I'm going to try to shift from expecting myself to do better to having goals for improvement. A goal is just that, a goal. Sometimes you achieve it, sometimes you don't, but in the end, if you did all you could do, you can still be proud. Sure, there will still be times when I'm disappointed in my performance, but hopefully with a little attitude adjustment I won't take it so hard and I'll be able to grow from it. Hopefully.

5) Eat healthier. By no means does this translate to "Go on a diet." But, that being said, food is fuel and this is especially true for runners. What you eat can have a huge impact on your performance. I will be the first to admit that I don't have a particularly healthy diet. I love pizza and cookies and brownies and ice cream (I tend to lean toward the sweets end of the food spectrum), but I can't help but think that perhaps my running might benefit if I included some, oh, I don't know, fruits and vegetables into my baked goods filled meals. Interestingly enough, I went to the doctor not to long ago and I told her about the muscle cramping I had had during the BAA Half, as well as the sometimes extreme fatigue I feel in my legs during runs or even just walking, and the first thing she asked me was what I eat. When I told her a typical day's meals, she asked if I took a vitamin (apparently my food intake wasn't exactly nutrient rich). So, while I am usually one to rebel against any and all advice about taking care of myself (I'm not so sure why I'm so contrary when it comes to this) I think I actually might take the good doc's advice on this one.

So, while these all seem like great ways to help me out with my running, it's really easy for me to sit here and say I'm going to do all of this stuff. The not so easy is me actually doing it all, and the jury is still out on how well I actually follow through. I am determined, though, to have my next big race (which right now looks to be the Miami Half in January) be a good one. But of course, if it's not, that attitude adjustment that I'm going to give myself sure will come in handy...

I'm a little bit country...

I spent this past weekend visiting some of my family out in the Berkshires in Western Massachusetts. For anyone that doesn't know, that means that I spent my weekend basically in the middle of nowhere. While I'm usually a city person, sometimes I desperately need to escape Boston, and a visit out to the Berkshires for some family, good food and beautiful surroundings usually does the trick. When I'm out there I typically consider it a break from all things everyday life, which includes running, but this past weekend, on a beautifully warmish-cool Saturday morning, the roads called to me and I felt obligated to answer. I chose one of the flatter roads around the area- and when I say flatter, I really mean not mountainous, because that's how most of the roads there are- and I just ran. I ran through corn fields and cow pastures, past beautiful homes and majestic mountain tops. It began to mist a bit and I couldn't help but be reminded of the race this past summer in Stowe, one of my best races all year. The scenery was remarkably similar (with the absence of all the other runners and only 5 cows, no bonus horses) and the weather felt exactly the same. And, in addition to these similarities, just like at Stowe, my legs felt like they could run forever. Perhaps this running in the country thing suits me...

Krazy gives her legs a rest from running: Day 1

Tonight, on my first day of rest from running, I went for a run. Bad idea? Maybe. But, man, did it feel great.

I don't know if this is an issue for everyone else as much as it is for me, but my mind is in constant battle with my body when it comes to running. When my body feels good, my head is elsewhere. When my head really needs a good run, my legs won't cooperate. It's only on the rare occasion that my head and my body come together, and it's on those occasions that my best runs happen. Well, tonight, my head really needed a good mind clearing run, and it pleaded with my legs to please, please cooperate... and, in a surprising turn of events, my legs happily obliged.

It was a beautiful night for a run, my ipod was on fire, and it felt as though my feet were barely touching the ground as I cruised around the river. My quad is already letting me know that running may not have been the best idea I've ever had, but the peace that I felt for that 40 or so minutes was well worth any aches and pains that I will end up suffering. It was exactly the kind of run that I've missed, and exactly what I needed to forget about Sunday's race. I can rest my legs tomorrow.

The BAA Half (I don't have it in me to come up with a witty title)

The BAA Half Marathon was this past Sunday.  It was... umm... not my best race.  On the one hand, it wasn't entirely surprising to me that it was a tough one (I didn't exactly train to run 13 miles).  So, given that, I know I should just be happy that I finished and lived to tell about it.  But the thing that did me in wasn't the distance.  I actually felt pretty okay with the 13 miles.  What kept me from coming even close to beating my last half marathon time was my own stupid legs.  Well, just one of them... the left one, the left thigh to be exact.  It cramped up on every single even marginal incline after about mile 4.  It was a hilly course.  It was not fun.  

In addition to the fact that the whole thing was extremely painful, I can't think of many things that are more frustrating than having your own body sabotage you.  When I ran Falmouth and had a bad race, I, of course, was frustrated with the fact that it didn't go well, but I also felt pretty horrible from the very beginning of the race which allowed me to adjust my goal from running for a time to simply just making it to the finish line.  The thing about the race on Sunday was that I actually felt great.  My body felt good.  My legs felt fresh.  I woke up feeling ready to run.  The weather was cool and crisp.  Everything was lined up for me to have a good day.  And for the first four miles, I did.  And then, somewhere during mile 4 or so, on the slightest of inclines, what seemed to be all of the muscles in my left thigh seized up simultaneously into one big, painful, impossible to ignore knot.  I walked for a few steps, allowed the cramp to release, and continued on my way, a little shaken up, but still feeling ok.  I approached the next hill and started up, and my leg cramped up again.  And that's when I knew it was going to be a long race.  But, unlike at Falmouth, other than my left leg, I still felt remarkably good which made it hard for me to adjust.

So, the race wasn't great.  I was pretty unhappy with myself by the time I finally finished.  Though I hadn't really trained for the distance, I had worked hard all summer to get faster and stronger and when the time came to put all of that hard work to use, my body failed me.  It was the ultimate disappointment.

I've spent the past two days thinking about the race... I've had bad races and bad runs before, but for some reason this one has really stuck with me.  Maybe it's because this is one of the first times that I've had a running goal that was ambitious, but I also felt like was really within my reach.  I know I could have beaten my previous half marathon time.  I just know that I had that in me.  I felt like I have gotten to be a better runner over this summer and I think that I wanted the half marathon to be my proof of that.  And while I know somewhere inside me that's it's only one race, and bad races happen, and one bad race doesn't negate all of the work that I've done to improve my running, in the aftermath of a disappointing race, it's been hard to convince myself that that's all true.

Needless to say, I'm a bit disenchanted with running right now.  Maybe I should take a break from it.  In fact, that was my original plan.  Once the half was over I was going to find something other than running to do for a bit, give my legs a rest for a few weeks, give myself a chance to miss running so maybe it wouldn't seem like such a chore.  It seemed like a great idea... well, until the half was actually over and I was faced with the reality that I had just imposed a break on myself from the thing that has enhanced my life in more ways than I can even count.  I had finally accepted the fact that I have, indeed, become a runner... if I'm not running, what am I going to do?? 

That being said, I do think I owe my legs a break, which I will give them.  My leg muscle cramping I'm sure was a cry for rest from my overworked legs.  But, aside from that little break, I'm going to keep running... not for speed or miles or time or any goal, but just for fun, to clear my head, to get outside and enjoy the fall in Boston- the reasons I used to go for a run, and why I started to enjoy doing it in the first place.  I think once running is fun for me again, I'll be able to get back into training and trying to improve again.  I do know that I've become a better runner already, and I know that the half marathon this weekend is not the be all and end all indicator of how far I've come (or not come) as a runner.  

If anything, the half actually has shown me how far I've come as a person.  A year ago, I, first of all, would not have dreamed of running 13 miles, but, more importantly, I would have mercilessly punished myself for the race that I ran on Sunday- mentally and physically.  Yes, I'm disappointed in my race, and yes, I've thought a lot about it the past couple of days, but the difference is I haven't been analyzing what went wrong during the race in order to punish myself, I have been thinking about my race in order to figure out how I can use it to be better- and not just better at running, but better at handling my disappointment and turning it into something positive.  That is something that my former, non-running self would have never even considered.

So, in the end, no, the BAA Half was not all that I dreamed that it would be, it was not the race I had wanted to run, and I certainly would not want to relive it.  But, despite my initial feelings of disappointment in my run, I'm not disappointed in myself.  I had a hard run but I finished the race.  I have tried to get everything positive out of the experience that I can (and written the longest blog entry ever in the process... sorry) and now I'm moving on.  Marathon training isn't too far off...

Here we go again...

Woohoo! I am a DFMC team member again. Yes, that's right, I now have the opportunity to spend countless hours running the Newton hills on cold, dark Thursday nights, to wake up at the crack of dawn on a frigid Saturday morning in January to run 15 miles, to spend my weekend afternoons crafting and editing fundraising emails, to run around in endless circles at the Tufts indoor track, and, at the end of it all, run 26.2 hilly miles into Boston. Yay!!

Receiving my acceptance via email this year was decidedly less exciting than last. Last year, I distinctly remember coming home from work, dropping my gigantic bag on the floor of my bedroom, tossing my jacket on my bed and walking over to my computer to check my email, expecting to have nothing more than a few emails from Banana Republic and JCrew touting whatever sale they happened to be having that week. I had given up on my application to DFMC the week before. Stopped running (not that I had been running a lot to begin with, but it had been a start), stopped expectantly checking my email, started thinking of other things that I could do for the winter. But then, there it was, "Lauren Krzynowek, welcome to the Dana-Farber 2008 Marathon Challenge 2008 invitational roster!" I remember laughing, and dancing around my apartment, calling my dad, and running upstairs to tell my neighbors (Ashley wasn't home, so I needed to tell someone). No one could believe that I had actually applied to run a marathon... in fact, they couldn't even believe that I had any desire to run a marathon in the first place. Regardless of their doubts, I was beyond excited.

Looking back, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. No idea. I've said it a million times, the DFMC experience is life changing. But on that day, when I received that email, I thought I was just going to do a little bit more running for the next few months... how wrong I was. I was in for a lot of hard work, a lot of tired mornings, a lot of frustration, and a lot of tears. Not to mention a lot of laughter, a lot of beers, a lot of smiles and a LOT of great friends.

This year, my acceptance email from the DFMC office didn't quite provoke any dance moves, but that's certainly not to say that I'm not excited. Quite the contrary, actually. I have been looking forward to the DFMC season starting up again since I was forced (by social conventions) to take off my shiny, new, blue and yellow medal and return to life as normal on April 22. I recognize that, from the outside, it seems a bit crazy to apply to do all of the hard work (running and otherwise) that DFMC requires, and it probably seems even crazier to apply to do it all a second time, knowing what is in store for me, but I loved every minute of my DFMC experience last year. And while I, of course, am dreading certain things that I didn't know any better than to be excited for last year (20 milers, cold mornings, track workouts), I'm excited to experience all of these things now as a DFMC veteran. So, bring on the training season, DFMC! Bring on the cold butts and the peanut m&m's and the running in circles and the runner's meetings and the hills! It's good to be back...

Speed is relative... and I'm relatively faster

A wise man named Jack Fultz once told me that speed is relative. I, being not so wise, laughed at this, thinking it merely a ploy to make slower runners like me feel not so crappy about their not so speedy running capabilities. Well, maybe it is a ploy, but, regardless, I took it upon myself this summer to become relatively faster, and, believe it or not, it sort of worked! And, something I learned about being relatively faster is that running becomes relatively more fun the faster you get. Yes, you read that right, I said running was fun. I ran a race this past Thursday night and it was actually fun. And I don't just mean the after party was fun (that's a given). I mean the bobbing and weaving, heavy breathing, sweaty, heart pounding, legs screaming, "left foot, right foot, repeat," act of running was FUN! Yes, dear readers, it has finally happened, I believe I have officially lost my mind.

This past Thursday was the last in a 5 part race series on the Charles River. One Thursday a month for the duration of the summer, runners gathered at the Marsh Post near the Elliot Bridge in Cambridge, and ran in a big, overcrowded, clump for 4.2 miles around the river until reaching their final destination... free beer. The races were something I really looked forward to each month. A great chance to get a run in, and then hang out with friends, listen to a cover band, and drink some Harpoon underneath a starry sky. All summer I have used these runs as a sort of gauge for my progress on "Project Run Faster" (I just decided that's what I'm going to call my quest for speed). Each race, I made it my goal to cut just a little bit off of my time from the previous race. Overall, I was pretty successful at doing this, though some races were more difficult than others.

This last race, I had the pleasure of running with Tyler (no, I didn't get THAT much faster... he was taking this one easy because he had another race the next day). As we ran through the inevitable clusterfuck at the beginning of the race, I was feeling pretty good. The air was cool and clear, my favorite weather to run in, and my legs were feeling very energetic. While I normally feel anxious for the first mile or so of a race- even these small, familiar races- this time I felt calm and relaxed. We joked around, Tyler made monkey noises and quacked at the ducks, and during parts of the run when I could feel my legs start to get a little bit tired, I turned my concentration towards whatever it was that Tyler and I were talking about and just kept running. As we made the last turn, just before the final mile of the race, Tyler asked me, "Ok Krazy, what do you have left for the last mile?" which I knew meant that I was supposed to turn up the speed, but at that moment, I wasn't quite sure that my legs had anything left in them. "I'll let you know in a minute," I responded back, hoping that maybe by the time a minute went by either I would be a little less tired or he would have forgotten that he asked in the first place. After a minute, maybe a little more, I decided that, this being the last race of the summer, I was going to finish with everything that I had left. I picked up the pace a little and heard Tyler just behind me, encouraging me to pass people. You know in the movie Seabiscuit, the one about the race horse, how all it takes for Seabiscuit to kick butt in a race is for him to see the eyes of the horse that he is running against, and then he just takes off. Well, that's sort of how I felt on Thursday. After I passed one person in that final mile, that was really all I needed to forget the heavy feeling in my legs, and I ran as fast as I could through to the finish. When I got to the finish line, I was more than surprised to see that the clock said 37:25. 37 minutes, 25 seconds, which I quickly realized in my head meant that I had done two (relatively) incredible things : 1) I had run under 9 minute miles, and 2) I had run 2 minutes faster in this race than I had in the last one. (HUGE thanks to Tyler for making me run (relatively) fast... I wouldn't have done it myself). And the most miraculous part of it all is that, despite feeling tired, I had fun the whole time, and finished with a smile. (another huge thanks to Ty for that one too)

So maybe it's not that running relatively faster makes it more fun... maybe it's that all the fun people are fast, so when you can finally keep up with them (or can convince them to run relatively slower with you), running is a whole lot more enjoyable. Whatever it is, my final summer race was all I could have ever asked for it to be. Next up- I look to continue the success of "Project Run Faster" at the BAA Half Marathon in October... I'm pretty sure Tyler's not going to be willing to run this one with me, so I'm going to have to figure out a way to entertain myself for 13 miles... or find someone else who will make monkey noises during the race...

Life Lessons at the Falmouth Road Race

This past weekend I, along with several friends, went down to the Cape and ran the Falmouth Road Race.   After a fantastic day at our friend Steve's house exploring, fishing and enjoying an absolutely beautiful day in Brewster, we all woke up early for a long and traffic-full drive to Falmouth.  For anyone who doesn't know, the Falmouth Road Race is huge, and runs along some of the most scenic seven miles of the Cape Cod coast line.  After all of the great things I had heard about the race, and on the heels of two races that I had run very well, I was really excited for this one.  When I woke up the morning of the race, though, I was acutely aware of the fact that the feeling I had had the morning before the race in Stowe, that "I'm Ready" feeling, was not quite there.  It wasn't that I was unprepared, or that I didn't want to run, I just didn't quite feel right.  

Anyways, I started the race, and I knew after 3 miles that this was not going to be my day.  I felt so awful that I had to walk for a little bit, and, as I walked, I started to contemplate my options.  I could, 1) just keep running at a respectable pace until I passed out- which, honestly, I don't think was far from happening at that point; 2) slow down my pace and focus on just getting through the next mile and a half (there was a Dana-Farber cheering section at mile 5.5 where some friends were); or 3) walk the rest of the race, which honestly I don't think I would have allowed myself to do anyways, but I considered it.  I decided to go with option number 2 and I told myself that if I just jogged the next mile and a half, I would be okay.  The first mile went by quickly, but the half a mile after that seemed more like 10.  As I got to the DF cheering section though, I heard my friend Lindsey yell out "Go Lauren," and I decided to keep trucking along for the next mile and a half to the finish.  That last mile and a half sucked, to say the least, saved only by the cheering crowd and the light breeze that broke up the brutal heat every once and a while.  There was a monster hill in the last half mile, and I willed my legs to do their best attempt at a run up the entire thing.  On the downhill to the finish, I didn't even have it in me to speed up, I just focused my sights on the finish line and forced my body to carry me to it.

When I crossed the finish line, all I wanted to do was cry.  I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or if I was disappointed in my run, or if they were tears of joy that I had even finished the race at all, perhaps it was a combination of all three, but when I found my friends waiting after I had finished, it was all I could do to hold back the tears.  After getting some food and cooling down a bit, we got to talking about having bad races and the best way to use your feelings from that in some constructive way.  I have to say that I've typically been one of those "Beat yourself up over it" types.  I take all of the frustration and disappointment from a badly played game, or a badly run race, and I berate myself with it until I'm more frustrated and disappointed, and then I use those feelings to force myself to get better at whatever it is that started the frustration and disappointment to begin with.  It's a viscous cycle, and one that isn't exactly constructive, as I usually end up burning myself out when forcing myself to get better.  While it may seem obvious that this is not the best way to handle things, it has taken me nearly 25 years to come to this realization.  I think that years of basketball and soccer coaches in my youth, yelling and having us do drills until our legs nearly fell off whenever we made a mistake, firmly embedded this response to disappointment into my head.  But now, I think I'm finally starting to get it.

In the car yesterday, my friend Angie mentioned that she had read something that said when you have a bad run, you should write down all of the things that went badly about it, and then draw a circle and write all of the things that were in your control on the inside of the circle, and all of the things that were out of your control on the outside.  The idea seemed silly to me yesterday when I was still stewing over my bad race, but now that I've had some time to think about it, it makes perfect sense.  While I didn't literally write or draw anything, it's easy for me to see that I don't think there was much I could have done to fix yesterday's race.  I was prepared to run seven miles, even seven hilly miles; I was prepared to run in the heat, I have been doing it all summer; I was ready in pretty much any way I could have been, it just wasn't my day.  So, instead of locking myself in the gym for the rest of the week, and running my legs to death around the river to beat them into submission, I'm just going to continue running and training like I have been, and enjoying it like I have been.  I'm not going to let one race that didn't quite go my way throw everything off track.  There will always be more races...

Revenge

Did I ever mention that I completely crashed on the hills in Newton during the marathon? No? Well, I did. It was not pretty- my ultimate fear come true- I had to walk up part of Heartbreak Hill. It has eaten me up ever since. I can't tell you how badly I have wished that I could go back to that day and just suck it up and run all the way up that stupid hill. The thing is, on that day, 18 or so miles into the marathon, I was pretty sure that I might die if I made myself run up that entire hill... or worse yet, I might not finish the marathon (which I guess if I had died I wouldn't have finished the marathon anyways- but at least then I wouldn't have had to live with the humiliation). Regardless, once I finished the race that day, I knew that I could have run that hill and still finished- too bad I came to that realization 8 miles too late (hindsight is always 20-20).

Well, this past Tuesday I had the opportunity to return to the site of my demise and do a TNT run on the very same hills that had eaten me alive back on April 21st. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't a bit nervous about the whole thing, but after a great race in Stowe the weekend before (yes, that thinly veiled fairy-tale was about me... surprise surprise), I felt pretty good about getting a good run in, regardless of the hills I would have to tackle. The run started out, and I immediately felt like I was going too fast to even possibly have enough energy to run the hills down and back- but my desire to not be last got the better of me, so I kept trucking along with my fellow TNTers. Before I even realized it, we were at the firehouse and turning around to go back over the hills the same direction as the marathon route. I charged up the first hill and was amazed how great I felt when I reached the top- instead of slowly ambling down the other side in an attempt to catch my breath and give my legs a rest, I kept up my pace and began mentally preparing myself for the next hill. Hill number two came and went without too much trouble and then it was time for Heartbreak. As I was approaching the incline, my teammate Matt came running up behind me and we talked for a minute. I explained to him that I was using this run as my revenge for the marathon- getting the hills back for embarassing me the way they did. He responded "Kick this hill in the balls" and with a high five- he raced up the hill. I "raced" up after him (at a slightly... ok, fine, way way slower speed) thinking the whole way up "I've always thought of these hills as female." Regardless, I ran the entire way up that stupid hill and spit on the top of it (I'm not really much of a spitter, but it seemed appropriate at the time). As I finished the run, I felt an overwhelming sense of redemption. Sure, the hills may have gotten the better of me on marathon monday, but I certainly showed them who's boss on Tuesday, and hopefully I'll keep showing them until next April when I can really get my revenge.

A Running Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a girl who decided to run a marathon. Now, this was not just any old marathon she decided to run- this was the Boston Marathon- but she was lucky because she had a coach who was known throughout the land as a great coach with a lot of experience in training for Boston- he had won it in '76, afterall. The girl knew that if she was going to accomplish her goal, she had better listen closely to all that her coach had to say. Despite knowing this, she often had trouble following his advice- not because she didn't want to, but because somewhere in her body there was a disconnect between her head knowing what she should do and her body actually doing it. The girl trained for months and successfully ran the marathon- however not without some trouble in the Newton Hills due to the fact that she ran too fast the first 13 miles of the race (exactly what her coach told her not to do). After the marathon, the girl continued training, running various races during the summer. Despite the fact that her coach continued to give her valuable advice on how to get back into running after the marathon, and how to work on her speed, the girl still had trouble following it. She struggled through run after run, and race after race, getting ever more frustrated with running and her inability to enjoy it again.

Then, one day, the girl went on a trip to Stowe, Vermont with a bunch of fellow runners to run an 8 mile race. After a day of fun with her friends, the girl woke up early the morning of the race and felt something she hadn't felt in quite some time- she was ready to run. The girl lined up at the starting line of the race and she heard her coach's voice in the back of her head "start slow, finish strong," and, as the race began, the girl settled into a steady and comfortable pace. With each mile, the girl gently increased her speed. Runners who had made the same mistake she had made so many times and had passed her in the very beginning of the race found themselves having to slow down from starting too quickly, and the girl passed them gaining strength and confidence. As the girl approached the 7th mile marker she suddenly realized that here she was, at the final mile of a race, and she didn't even feel like crap- she actually felt pretty good. The girl finished the race strong with a smile on her face as she ran across the finish line at a full sprint. She had finally managed to follow her coach's wise words and she had even had fun doing it! That afternoon, the girl celebrated a successful race drinking beer and eating ice cream in the rain with her fellow runners. Everyone had had a great weekend in Stowe, and they all ran happily ever after...

Hate is a strong word... unless you really mean it

It's hard to believe that it's been over a month since my last post. I think it can be safely assumed that I wasn't very thrilled with running back when I last blogged, and, I have to say, I'm not sure that has entirely changed. Let's be honest... when have I ever really been thrilled with running? Looking back through my blog posts, there isn't really anything that ever says "I love running." There actually isn't ever anything that says that I like running. In fact, the only mention I ever make about my feelings toward running is in saying that "I used to hate it, maybe I don't anymore." I think, now that I've had some time to ponder the situation, I can safely say that I do, in fact, hate running. I think I always have. The act of running, just running, is not something I enjoy. It is hard for me, it is painful, it is tiring, it requires a lot of effort... these are all things I hate. Why the heck do I continue to do this to myself?!?

When I was training for the marathon the answer to that question was obvious. I was running for something. All of that effort had some greater purpose other than just putting one foot in front of the other for the heck of it. I was training for something big, and I was running for something even bigger. But then the marathon was over and all I was left with was running. Running for the sake of stupid running. Sure I can train for races, get faster, etc. but it's still just not the same. So, that still leaves me with the question... why am I still doing this?

Sure, I hate running. But, and I believe this is something my dear buddy Linds will 100% agree with being President of the Team Injured and all, I think I hate NOT running more. As much as I LOVE the opportunity to loaf around my apartment, spend time with some non-running buddies and do whatever I feel like doing when I'm not running, I find that when I don't run I get cranky and moody, I feel lazy, and most importantly, I don't get to spend as much time as I want to with my running friends. It's hard for me to admit this, but I actually feel worse when I don't run than when I'm outside in the 90 degree weather, running mile repeats around the track with TNT (more on them at a later date- this blogging hiatus has caused me to leave out a lot of things that have happened in the last month or so... ).

Anyways, the point of all of this rambling is that I haven't blogged in a long time because I had a feeling that I hated running and I didn't want to be so negative. But I'm ready to admit it: I HATE RUNNING. I absolutely hate it, and I am okay with that. Anyone who thinks that left foot, right foot, repeat is fun is a crazy person. That being said, not running is even less fun- so I'm sticking with the running from now on. Maybe it will grow on me (probably not), maybe it won't (more likely), but until I hate it more than not running, I'll keep putting one stupid foot in front of the other and see where I end up... and I'll even blog about it from now on too.

If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror, because I bet that's what REALLY throws you into a panic. -Jack Handey

I am tired. I'm not just tired, I'm tired of running. I can't seem to remember why I even liked running in the first place. I dread lacing up my running shoes because I know whatever amount of running I do manage to get out of my legs is just going to be a disappointment. I used to love running with friends, but now I feel stressed out when I run with other people because I'm sure I'm holding them back from going faster. Just over a month ago I ran 26.2 miles and now I can barely run 4. I hurt, and I'm tired and I'm sad. But most of all, I'm just scared that I'm not ever going to get back my desire to run. Or worse yet, I'll want to run, but I'm not going to be able to get my legs to cooperate.

I haven't really blogged for over a month because this is how I've felt. Until today I've been following the above wise words of Jack Handey, thinking that if I didn't acknowledge how bad all of this running stuff was going, then maybe I could avoid panicking about it. Silly, I know. You would think by the time I reached 24 I would have learned that ignoring a problem doesn't make it go away. But, now that it's out there, I can recognize that there is really nothing to panic about. I just need to relax and be patient, the running will come. It might take me longer to get back into running than my teammates- but hey, it took me longer than them to finish the marathon too... the important thing is that I'll get there. In the meantime, I'll follow the wise words of a much wiser Jack, our coach, Jack Fultz. Like Jack always tells us- "Keep on keepin' on"- the running will come.

I want my body back

Dear Whoever is in charge of this sort of thing,

When am I going to be able to run again?  I'd like to be able to breathe normally and not have my legs feel like lead.  The sooner the better.  Thanks.

Sincerely,

Lauren

11

I've made no secret about the fact that I'm not exactly a speedy runner. Odds are good that I'm not going to win a race anytime soon, and I probably won't ever run fast enough to qualify for Boston... I'm okay with that. But, upon accepting my fate as a "back of the pack" runner, I made the conscious decision that if I'm not going to be great at running, then I sure better find something else that I am going to be great at. Luckily for me, DFMC isn't just about running, and thus began my quest for fundraising greatness...

To be honest, I wasn't even striving for greatness in the beginning. It was more like striving just to raise $3,000 so my credit card wouldn't get charged. My fundraising goal was set at $9000 to start with. I was determined to reach my goal, but signing onto my fundraising page back in January and seeing my fundraising total reported at a whopping $500 was a bit unnerving. It seemed like $9000 would never happen. But then I started spending my Saturday and Sunday mornings in the coffee shop with my lap top- sending emails, looking for people's addresses, writing thank you notes- and, sure enough, the donations started coming in. With the help of my family and friends passing along my fundraising email to everyone they knew, I was able to raise over $15,000 before marathon weekend even began. That's when it started to hit me that maybe, just maybe, I could raise enough money to be in the top ten DFMC fundraisers.

Fast forward to yesterday- my official total fundraising amount as of yesterday was $24,551. Awesome! I did a little research on my fellow teammates fundraising and found ten people with fundraising totals higher than mine. Not awesome. Being in 11th place is not even close to as cool as being in the Top Ten. I researched a little more and found that the 10th highest fundraising amount was $24,635. Awesome! I knew I had some checks to be deposited that would put me at just over $25,000. But, upon further investigation I found that the person with the 10th highest fundraising amount is a DFMC vet and has a goal of $30,000. Not awesome. Odds are pretty good he'll reach and probably surpass his goal. Crap.

Ok, I get it. I know it's not a competition. We are all on the same team and we are all raising money for a great cause. In fact, I should be thrilled that so many of my teammates have raised over $25,000. I should be thrilled that I, myself, have raised over $25,000 (especially considering it wasn't looking too good there back in January). And I am. And I'm not just saying that. Working in development at Dana-Farber has given me the chance to see just how much money cancer research costs (trust me, it is NOT cheap), and the fact that 100% of the money we raise through DFMC goes straight to that research means that our fundraising plays a super important role in the search for a cure for cancer. So, though it would be nice to be in the top 10, it's pretty great that I have 10 teammates who have raised such an impressive amount of money. When you look at it like that, 11th isn't such a bad place to be.

Retail therapy

I've sworn up and down this blog that training for a marathon is great therapy.  That's all well and good when I actually have a marathon to train for, but what now?  This week marks the beginning of a rough time of year for me, starting with my mom's birthday and soon after that, mother's day.  I tell you, you never notice how many commercials and advertisements are geared towards mother's day until it's somewhat of a sore subject for you (as I just typed that sentence three commercials were just on that mentioned buying something for mom).  So anyways, with no marathon in sight, what's a girl to do?  Buy a new pair of jeans, naturally.  Maybe I should find another marathon to run...

Still smiling (albeit a little tired looking) after 26.2 miles...

Run, Lauren, run...

"Now you wouldn't believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows.  From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running."

-Forrest Gump

Was it all a dream?

After work today I decided to head over to the gym to hop on the bike and hopefully loosen up my sore legs a bit. When I got off the T at Hynes, I walked down Newbury Street and took a right onto Hereford without really thinking about much more than the fact that it was an absolutely beautiful afternoon. But as soon as I turned that corner, I suddenly realized where I was. I was instantly transported back to Monday afternoon, my legs burning, cursing that little incline on Hereford right before the final turn onto Boylston, the cheers of the crowd on all sides of me, the elation in realizing that on this one day, every one one of those thousands of people knew my name (it helped that it was written on my shirt). But here I was, two days later, and it was all gone. I continued to walk down Boylston a ways, passing the gym, just to get a look at the street. The crowds had vanished, the fried dough vendors had rolled away their carts, the projection screen on the side of the convention center had been taken down, the grandstand had been packed away for next year. It was as if I had dreamt the entire weekend. The only proof I have that the whole thing happened is a few blurry pictures, some very sore legs, an awesome medal, and memories so great that I wouldn't be surprised if they actually were a dream.

It's hard to believe that almost all evidence of one of the most momentous weekends of your life can simply disappear like that. The city of Boston was pretty much completely shut down for one day for a bunch of crazy people running, and now it is back to business as usual. Life is back to normal in the city, but not for me. I've said before that it would be impossible to come out of the DFMC experience unchanged, and now that I've actually run the marathon, now that I've heard the "thank you's" and the Dana-Farber cheers, now that I've seen the patient-partners and their families going wild at Kenmore, now that I've felt what it feels like to push your body farther than you ever imagined it could go, now I really know how true that is. I am a Boston Marathoner. And unlike many people who run the marathon, people who just get out there on Monday, run the race and go home, the fundraising that my DFMC teammates and I have all done will allow the greatness of that day to continue on, hopefully resulting in a few more "thank you's" out on the course next year.

So maybe it wasn't my best race, maybe my legs hurt so badly now I want to cry everytime I get near a flight of stairs, maybe I have blisters the size of small planets on my feet, and maybe I haven't slept more than a couple of hours for the past few nights because this pesky runners' high just won't let me rest; I still wouldn't change a second of it. And if it was all a dream, I sure hope I don't wake up anytime soon... I really like my medal.

I did it!

I ran (and ran and ran) and I finished the Boston Marathon!  I have to admit, there were times there when it reeeeaaaalllly was not fun, but overall, it was the most amazing experience of my life.  Let's face it, anytime you have thousands and thousands of people screaming your name and yelling "Thank you Dana-Farber" you really can't lose.  Awesome day, awesome race, even more awesome dance party afterwards.  Can't wait till next year.

One final plea

Ok, so I lied... that last post was not the last post before the marathon.  But, hey, cut me some slack here.  I'm sitting in front of the tv watching 60 minutes trying to keep myself from going crazy before running THE BOSTON MARATHON and let's face it, Andy Rooney really doesn't have the most calming effect, so blogging seemed like a good way to keep myself occupied for a few.  So here it goes, the last blog before the marathon... one final plea to my body before I force it to run one crazy race.

Dear Feet- please try not to hurt too much.  I know I have beat you beyond recognition these past few months, and you have taken it pretty well thus far.  I only ask you to hold out for one more day and to not give me too much trouble- after that you can hurt all you want and I will dress you in sandals and maybe even Crocs if you do especially well.

Dear Legs- please please please cooperate with me tomorrow.  I know you like to have your days where you just don't feel like it, but can we please not make that day tomorrow?  I swear I'll let you rest as soon as we're done running... ok, fine, as soon as we're done dancing at Shifter's party.

Dear Head- It is going to be fine... no, rather, it is going to be GREAT!  Quit worrying.  All I ask of you tomorrow is cool, calm, concentration.  Everyone else (Legs and Feet, that means you) will fall into place if you just do that for me.

Body, I think tomorrow is going to go fabulously if we can all just do our jobs and remain calm. Thanks for putting up with me through all of this training, you've been great.  26.2 or bust!

The last pre-marathon blog (unless I think of something very profound to say over the weekend)

I've been trying to write a blog all day. The final blog... well, the final pre-race blog anyways. That's a lot of pressure. I mean, what is there to say, as I sit here about to take on the Boston Marathon, THE marathon, that won't sound inadequate? Nothing. Nothing I can say can really measure up to the magnitude of this moment for me. So, instead, I'm just going to say thank you.
Thank you to my dad and my roommate for putting up with me and listening to me babble endlessly about running. You guys deserve a medal... or a cookie, I bet you'd both like that better :)
Thank you to my friends who have been more than understanding of my vanishing off the face of the earth for 6 months to dedicate myself to training.
Thank you to the marathon & running programs people at DFCI who make the whole DFMC thing happen.
Thank you to all of the DFMC volunteers for waking up at the crack of dawn and standing out in the cold while we all ran around like a bunch of crazy people.
Thank you to the friends, family and complete strangers who donated. I surpassed my fundraising goal and I owe it to all of you.
Thank you to my DFMC buddies for simply being the best. I could never have gotten to this point without you... whether going out for a run or going out for drinks, you guys have made these past few months some of the most memorable of my life.
And finally, thank you to my mom. Mom, I know you're out there reading this or listening to my thoughts somehow. Thank you for being an amazing mother, and for leaving me with the most beautiful memories of you. I know it was you who somehow led me to where I am now, raising an incredible amount of money for cancer research and about to run the Boston Marathon. You have been with me through every step of this process. Thank you for keeping me strong and giving me the motivation to do this. Love you.

So, with that, I bid you all adieu until after the marathon. 3 days and 26.2 miles to go... Wish me luck!!!

A little help

In response to me briefly losing my mind yesterday (ok, it wasn't all that brief, but anyways...) I got a lovely email from my friend Nancy:

"..just read your blog my friend...

repeat after me...

Everything is going to be great. I love running. I love and eat the hills of Newton.. I have worked hard and am worthy of a memorable race filled with Kodak memories. I can do this. I will do this.

See you at the finish line....you can do it Lauren. Stay strong !!!!!"

I also got a message from one of my best friends in Chicago, Laura (she's in vet school, hence the reference to dog and cat diabetes):

"Ok - So I am in my 8am class learning about diabetes in cats and dogs . . . and I took a look at your blog - and I just wanted to let you know you will be fine on monday. I checked the weather and it is supposed to be cloudy (yeah!) with a high of 57 (and you will be done by the time it gets that hot I am sure). I just wanted to know I am sending good vibrations your way."

Thanks for keeping me (kind of) sane, guys. I need all of the help I can get!

A Quote

"Sure I am of this, that you have only to endure to conquer. You have only to persevere to save yourselves"

-Winston Churchill

Losing it

In the past 7 days I have gone from repeating to myself "Everything is going to be great" to "Everything is going to be good" to, now, "Everything is going to be fine." Everything is going to be fine, we will all be fine, the weather will be fine, I will feel fine, the race will be fine. I will be totally 100% fine. Right?

I saw the sign

With the marathon fast approaching and my concentration set firmly on avoiding injury for the next 5 days, I have become acutely aware of the perils we face in everyday life. Just this morning, while riding the T to work, an unaware woman stepped squarely on my foot with her leopard print stiletto heel. I glared at the back of her head as she obliviously continued to gab on her cell phone (who she could possibly be talking to that early in the morning, I don't know). "DON'T YOU KNOW I'M RUNNING A MARATHON IN 5 DAYS!" I wanted to yell at her. And then it occurred to me; how would she know? How would anyone know? It's not like I'm wearing a sign around my neck that says "CAUTION: Marathon Runner in Training." Maybe I should... maybe we all should.

Just think of all of the times that wearing that sign would prevent you, not only from potential injury, but from having to explain yourself and your sometimes kooky behavior. Sitting down for a pedicure would no longer require, before you place your feet in front of the poor girl charged with touching them, that you explain that you're training for the marathon, you're feet might be a little gross. Walking (aka hobbling) down the stairs in front of your colleagues the week after a long run would not require you to explain that you're training for the marathon and therefore your quads feel like they might fall off if you walk down the stairs like a normal person. And riding the T would no longer require that you dodge oblivious women and their 4 inch heels because you would obviously be offered a seat by some kind soul who is sympathetic to all of that running you must be doing (okay, that last part is wishful thinking).

It's clear that the benefits far outweigh the potential fashion faux pas created by wearing a giant sign around your neck (oh, did I not mention it would be giant? It has to be so that you can warn not only those in your immediate vicinity, but also those who are farther away) With only 5 days to go (and only 2 more days of the perilous morning commute T ride) it's a little late for a sign this year, but I think it's something we should all seriously consider for next year's training. Until then, have a safe 5 days, fellow runners... and watch out for women in heels.

6 Days

What does one do with oneself when counting down the last 6 days, after months of preparation, to one of the biggest things he/she has ever done? I have to say I'm struggling with this one. Usually, when I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed or anxious I go for a nice long run, "exercise my demons", if you will. This being taper time though, I know that I shouldn't be out knocking off 8-9 mile runs all week. Another thing I often do to relieve stress is bake. During some of the more difficult times in my life I could have practically opened a bakery with all of the baked goods pouring out of the kitchen. There's something about methodically following a recipe, the gentle whir of the mixer, the occasional dough sampling... it's all very relaxing to me. But, with less than one week to go until the marathon, eating a batch of cookies in one sitting probably isn't the best way to prepare to run 26.2 miles (and let's be honest, baking without allowing yourself to eat your creations is a sick form of torture, and I'm just not interested in subjecting myself to that sort of thing.) Another tried and true method of stress relief: a nice trip down to the Warren Tavern for Cape Codders. Again though, staying out all night drinking with my buddies, while fun, is not the best mode of hydration for a marathon. So where does that leave me?

I can only sit around, twiddling my thumbs, watching episodes of the Bachelor for distraction for so long... sooner or later the marathon creeps back into my head and I start panicking: is my knee is hurting more than normal today? should I get a massage? which of the 85 pairs of shorts that I ordered are the best ones to wear? should I switch back to my old running shoes? do I have enough Gu? have I run enough? have I run too much? should I order more shorts? what if there's a monsoon on monday? will the lettering on my singlet be done in time? what if I don't see anyone I know on the course?...

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

So that's where the yelling came from yesterday, just needed to get it out. I felt much better after that and a quick little 4 mile run to test out one of my (many) pairs of new shorts and clear my thoughts. I know I'm going to look back on this and laugh at myself for acting like a crazy person, but until then I have 6 more days... I might have to bake some cookies.

To Tfer

Okay, so I'm working on another post to explain the below "blood curdling war cry" as Jeff described it, but something has come up that needs to be addressed first. Due to unforseen circumstances, it doesn't look as though my dearest roommate, Ashley, is going to be here for the marathon on Monday. While I am sad that she won't be there to see me run, I'm even more sad that she won't be there to celebrate finishing with me afterwards. You see, poor Ashley has had to deal with me more than anyone else these past few months (with the exception of maybe my dad, but that was just on the phone). I have bored her with endless tales of long runs, short runs, running shorts, and running injuries. I have bombarded her with a constant rollercoaster of emotion every time I have come home from a running event. But you know what the great thing about Ashley is?(one of many great things, I should say) She's listened to every single word of my running ramblings and is always happy to listen to more (or at least she acts like it :) ) For putting up with me these past few months, no one deserves to celebrate me finishing the marathon more than Ashley. So, Teefs, you will be greatly missed on Marathon Monday, not only during the race, but after. Thanks for dealing with me through this whole thing... let's get a few Cape Codders when you get back :)

Release

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

That was me yelling. I feel much better now.

Realists need not apply...

ISO (that means "in search of," for those of you who don't make a habit of reading personal ads... not that I do or anything... but let's all admit that they can be pretty entertaining, and maybe, just maybe, there's someone interesting in there... right? no?... ANYWAYS): 

Friends, family members, and acquaintances willing to lie, stretch the truth, be unrealistic and simply just tell me what I want to hear for the next week of my life.  Those with experience having lofty, seemingly unattainable goals are especially encouraged to contact me.  If you would like to talk about how beautiful the weather is going to be on April 21, give me a call (and by "beautiful" I mean beautiful by my definition: overcast and 47-50 degrees).  If you would like to discuss how GREAT I'm going to feel after I successfully run 26.2 miles in said "beautiful" weather, let's do dinner.  But if you want to be realistic and/or reasonable, want to speak logically, or based on precedent (especially when referring to the weather), don't talk to me until next Tuesday.  I'm not interested in hearing from the voice of reason right now, I would much rather talk to the voice of unreasonable optimism.  Thanks.

Is it obvious that Lindsey and I talked this morning?  

Finally, another blog post...

I have had a mean case of writer's... er, blogger's block, this past week. It's not that I've had nothing to write about- actually, quite the contrary, the past week has been filled with interesting things: an eventful final battle with the hills on Thursday with DFMC buddy Lindsey, a not so great long run with the group in Southie on a drizzly Saturday morning, a very fun post-race party after Shifter's race (which I didn't run) on Saturday afternoon (fun brought to you courtesy of Jack Daniels)- see, I have had plenty of fodder for good blogging and yet each time I sat down to write I came up empty handed. I found myself wondering out loud "Have I lost the ability to blog?!"

No, no, dear reader, don't you worry, that's not the case. Turns out, I've still got plenty of blogging left in this head of mine (phew!), I was just trying to blog about the wrong things. While this past week has been full of fun things to blog about, my head has been elsewhere, thinking of just how much time I'm going to have on my hands once this is all over.  I know, I'm getting a little ahead of myself here, the marathon still hasn't even happened yet.  But seriously, whatever will I do with myself once the marathon is done?  How will I occupy my Saturday and Sunday mornings without group runs?  What will I eat for dinner on Thursdays if I'm not at Crossroads?  How will I torture myself on Tuesdays without my weekly trip to the track?

Up until recently I have actually had a little count down in my head going until I get my life back, but as the time approaches, I'm starting to wonder, Is that the life I really want now?  I mean, obviously there are things that I miss- my friends for one, I feel like I haven't seen them in ages, and the ability to go away on the weekend without feeling guilty about missing a run for another- but overall, do I really want to go back to my old ways? I don't think I do... at least not entirely, and I'm not even sure I could if I wanted to.  These have been some of the most amazing, excruciating, frustrating and happy months of my life, and I simply don't think it's possible to come out of that unchanged.  It's funny because if you had told me that cold November morning of the first timer's run that it was the beginning of a life-changing experience, I probably would have laughed in your face. Afterall, I had spent the night before being angry at a boy and drinking too much wine, then I had quite literally dragged myself out of bed to go run 4 miles (only 4 miles!) in the cold... it certainly didn't seem like the beginning of anything magical.  But magical is just what it has been, and it's hard to believe it's almost over.

At least one thing that's sure to stick around after the marathon is over is all of the new buddies that I have made through DFMC (that is, if they're not totally sick of me by that time :)

Which brings me back to the fun things I mentioned in the beginning that I have been trying to blog about all week.  Here's a picture of me and some of said buddies after Shifter's race this past weekend:

Which reminds me of yet another thing I can't wait to do again once the marathon is over... shower before going out to a bar :)

Maybe this will take the place of a phone call... probably not

I have spent a lot of time in this blog talking about how great the DFMC people are, thanking various individuals who have really helped me on the long training and fundraising road, and praising all things Jack Fultz, because... well, because"In Jack We Trust," but there is one person who deserves a bigger thank you than anyone, and up to this point I have almost completely ignored him. Well, I'm about to change that right now... Dad, this one's for you.

To be honest, I'm pretty sure I drive my dad crazy sometimes... well, really, what daughter doesn't? But there are days when I quite literally will call my father upwards of 10 times. What could you possibly have to talk about that much? you're wondering. Trust me, I'm pretty sure my dad asks the same question as he picks up his phone and sees my name on the caller i.d. again. Well, the answer is... EVERYTHING. I call my dad to tell him about pretty much anything and everything that happens to me during the course of the day- Bought a new dress? Call Dad. Ate a good meal? Dad should know. Coming down with a cold? Whine at Dad. Ran into an old friend? Dad might care. Ran 12 miles? You guessed it... I'll call my dad while still catching my breath. As my dad, he is partially obligated to listen to me go on and on about the minutae of my life, I'm aware of this. But my dad definitely goes above and beyond obligation... even pretending to care when I call (for the third time in one morning, in the middle of him golfing) to inform him that I've bought a pink running shirt. Now that's dedication!

After being with me through the entire training process (via cell phone) my dad will be flying out to Boston in two weeks to see me run in the marathon. Although my goal that day is to finish the marathon, the experience wouldn't be complete without my number one supporter waiting there at the finish line to celebrate with me- not to mention it will save a little money on the cell phone bill because I won't have to call him :)

Thanks, Dad! I'll talk to you later this afternoon...

a quote

"And so our mothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of a flower they themselves never hoped to see-- or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read"

-Alice Walker

Ready

With just three weeks left until the big day, Boston is buzzing with all things marathon related- banners adorn the street lamps, Comm Ave is bustling with runners, running stores are bursting with marathon paraphernalia. It's funny, I don't remember any of this happening last year; perhaps it's because I have a slightly more vested interest in it all this time. Regardless, marathon time is upon us for sure and as I walked down Boylston St. yesterday after work, taking it all in, I couldn't help but realize that I felt no anxiety. There was no feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, no ominous aching in my legs (aside from the residual soreness from Sunday's run), not even a little alarm in my head going off signaling impending doom. I looked down Boylston Street towards what will be the finish line on marathon day, and the only feeling I had was, "I am ready."

The funny thing is, I'm a worrier, I usually expect the worst case scenario and I'm very rarely confident in my ability to do something I have never done before (I'm a real winner, right?). As I stood there downtown though, the hustle and bustle of the city going on around me, I didn't feel any of that, I only felt ready. Maybe it's because I've been so dedicated to my training and done everything exactly how I was supposed to (ha! not quite), or maybe it's because, at this point, I am so ready to be done with training that I will convince myself of almost anything (this actually could be true, but I don't think so)- No, I think the reason I feel ready for this marathon is because I am ready to run in memory of my mom, and I am ready to run for all of those still battling cancer, and I know that no matter what happens on marathon day, I have accomlished something great and I have the support of friends, family and those who DFMC has brought me in contact with. But no matter what the reason, there is no doubt in my mind that I am ready to do this. 20 days and counting...

From Skirt Magazine:

Marathon Men Make Our Hearts Race

When a friend asked Jack Fultz to help him train for a marathon, the 1976 winner of the Boston Marathon had no idea he’d still be doing it nearly 20 years later –– or that he’d be wearing a skirt! –– as head coach of the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge team. The team (of men and women) is 550 members strong this year and aiming to raise $4.5 million for the Claudia Adams Barr Program in Innovative Basic Cancer Research through the April 21 race from Hopkinton to Boston. Watch for their blue shirts (we’re not sure if they’ll opt for skirts that day) and cheer on (left to right) Larry Hanson, Fred Warburg, Jack Fultz, Tyler Hart, Ben Quick and Matt Whitcomb. How does it feel to wear a skirt? "It’s very sexy," says Jack. "We’ve always wondered, and now we know."

No wonder my legs are so sore!

Here's the elevation map thingy of our run yesterday:

I better write this now while I'm not too sore and can still be positive...

1 Zipcar, 1 peanut-butter and jelly sandwich, 9 Sports Beans, 8 water stops, 4 mint chocolate gu's, lots of awesome volunteers (Thank you!!!!), 1 Channel 5 News guy (and 1 horrible video of my butt as I ran away from him), 22 miles (yes, you read that right!), 1 bagel, 1 great shower, a 4 hour nap, 1 pizza, and 1/2 a pint of ice cream later... and it's TAPER TIME!!!!!

Today was my longest run ever and my last really long run until the marathon!  With a 22 mile run under my belt, I finally feel ready for the marathon both physically and mentally, which means I can go confidently into my taper and really focus on taking care of my little nagging knee pain (which I am happy to report, with the exception of the first few miles this morning, hasn't bothered me today... maybe I'm miraculously healed?)  I'm still in a bit of shock and, despite my 4 hour nap, still quite tired, so I'll write something more exciting later.

Happy Tapering!

Stopping to tie my shoe (if I'm smart)

Upon admitting to a sore knee problem at BeerWorks lask night, Jack told me a little analogy:

A small nagging injury is like having your shoe come untied during a run. You have two choices: you can stop, tie your shoe, and continue on with your run, losing only a short amount of time. Or, you can keep running, your shoe will eventually fall off and you will lose much more time having to go back and retrieve your lost shoe.

Moral of the story: Stop, take care of your injury now and be sidelined for a short period of time, rather than try to run through it and have your training derailed for much longer because you forced the issue.

Makes sense, right? Then why am I having so much trouble convincing myself that not running the hills tonight is the right thing to do? I certainly know better than to question Jack's advice, and I certainly don't want to injur myself further... but at the same time, it is KILLING me thinking that I might skip the hills. To be honest, I was hesitant to even write my blog about this today- somewhere in my crazy head I had come to the conclusion that maybe if I just didn't acknowledge the little twinges in my knee and I conveniently "forgot" that I had discussed not running with Jack last night, that I could just continue on with my Thursday run as planned, guilt free. Why am I so bound and determined to run the hills tonight? Maybe it's because while I was in Florida I didn't get many good runs in, or maybe it's because I can feel the pressure of the race building each day as April 21st gets closer and closer, or maybe I feel like I can, as Jack so eloquently put it, "put a few more pennies in the fitness bank." I'm not sure what it is exactly, maybe a combination of all of those things, but whatever it is, it has created within me this crazy, maniacal need to run.

The thing is, I'm really the only one stopping myself from running tonight. No one is going to get out there and physically stop me from hopping on the T and riding it out to Woodland and my knee doesn't hurt so badly that it will prevent me from running back into Boston. I know that the smart thing to do tonight is to stop and "tie my shoe" -hit the arc trainer at the gym and hope that whatever this thing is that is wrong with my knee will clear up with a little quality time spent off of the roads. I really can't say for sure if I will actually do the smart thing... we shall see. But, I can tell you one thing for certain- whether I'm out on the roads tonight or confined to the gym you can count on the fact that I'll be at Crossroads for beer and pizza once I'm done...

Let's hope it's not hot and humid on marathon day...

I know, I've slacked on the blog this week. In my defense, I was in Florida visiting family. "Florida?!" you're thinking, "Well that must have been lovely! Warm weather! Sunshine! Family! I bet you got some good runs in down there!" Well, dear reader, you're thinking wrong. Yes, Florida was warm, and even sunny sometimes. Yes, I saw a lot of my family which was nice considering I don't get to see them nearly as often as I would like. But the running, or lack thereof, left a little something to be desired.

Let me tell you something: Florida is HOT, and my God is it humid! and HOT+humid= not fun running conditions. Normally I go to Florida with the best of working out intentions. My running gear is packed and ready to go in my bag, but the moment I arrive in the sweltering heat all motivation to run, or do anything much more than flip over on the lounge chair to tan my back, goes straight out the window. "Not this time!" I told myself, "This time I'm training for a marathon! No silly heat is going to stop me!" A nice thought in theory, but the heat is a formidable opponent, and one that I am not used to facing. On the first morning when I attempted to take a 8 mile run around the neighborhood, I ran 4 miles outside and then high-tailed it to the gym to run on the treadmill in the relative coolness of the (very minimal) a/c. My runs on the rest of my trip went similarly, and ended with me only completing 6 or 7 miles each day. Then, to top it all off, my knee started bothering me. I wasn't even running that much and now my knee decides to start acting up! UGH!

I was frustrated to say the very least, but on my last day, I woke up bright and early, had some cereal, a little bit of coffee, downed a bottle of water and rode my Grandfather's bike over to the gym. Considering how the rest of the week had gone, I really wasn't expecting much from my stupid body, but I wanted to get in a little gym time before spending the majority of my day smushed in an airplane seat, not to mention I was feeling pretty guilty about missing the track workout that night. I hopped on the treadmill for a quick 1 mile warm up and then switched over to the Arc Trainer. The humidity was already beginning to take its toll on me and my knee was sore from the treadmill, but I was suddenly very determined to get a good workout out of this. I decided to create a "track" workout for the arc trainer (basically copied an old one that we did at the track with Jack). I'll be honest, it didn't feel so great while I was doing it, and people kind of looked at me like I was a crazy person, but when I was done... wow did I feel good. I even forgot about the fact that I would be missing the actual workout later that night (which may seem like a small accomplishment, but a day earlier I was almost ready to shell out 200 bucks to take an earlier flight so I could make the track... crazy, I know).

Anyways, I got back to Boston last night and I am happy to find that the weather is still cool and crisp, just how I like it. Let's hope it stays like this for awhile and doesn't heat up too much in the next couple of weeks because, that's right, the big day is just around the corner... less than a month to go (yikes!).

Fundraising News: With the addition of a couple of checks that I still need to send in, my fundraising total is now just over $9000!!! With just one month to go until the big day, I'm in great shape to make my goal of raising $13,000... thanks everyone for your support!

A number is worth a thousand words...

The BAA posted our bib numbers for the marathon yesterday. It's funny how within 12 hours of the announcement almost every DFMC blogger has written about their number and found some special significance hidden inside those 5 special numerals. Now, I could say that everyone is just being silly... the numbers are assigned at random, and in some desperate attempt to attach further meaning to our marathoning experience they have over-analyzed and read too much into it. Yes, I could say that... but of course, that would be a bit hypocritical of me considering I did the exact same thing.

22289- that's the magic number.  Let the over-analyzing begin:

Now, I know 22 is the corral number for Dana-Farber... but more importantly 2 was my mom's favorite number.  22 was her even more favorite number because there are, you guessed it, two two's.  Throw another 2 in there for good measure and you've got a whole lot of 2's.  You can call it a coincidence, but I'm going to look at it as a sign... one more thing that's going to remind me on marathon day what I am doing this for and who I am doing it in memory of.

8- honestly, at first thought, the number didn't hold a whole lot of significance for me.  So, instead of just leaving it at that, I consulted the internet.  Turns out, in numerology, the number 8 is "a carrier of dynamic success and power" (let's hope that's true) and its character reveals a perfect balance between the world of ideas and the world of action.  Also, in the Bible, the number 8 signifies regeneration and resurrection.  This is especially significant to me in that my running the marathon in memory of my mom is, in part, my way of moving on from the loss of my mother.  

And 9.  9 is a number that represents intellectual power and our influence over situations and things.  This will most certainly be important to me on marathon day as I have quickly learned that running is more mental, especially for me, than it is physical.  My body is capable of running for as long as my mind is able to convince myself that I can keep going.

So there it is, my over-analyzation of my bib number assignment. Maybe it is just a random number, but maybe, just maybe, it is the number that I was meant to have.  Regardless, I will wear 22289 proudly on April 21 and I will carry with me all of its meaning, far fetched or not, for all 26.2 miles.

There's something fishy about New Bedford...

... and I mean that quite literally. The place reeks of fish. Why was I in New Bedford? you ask. It most certainly was not for the shopping (I don't think there is any) or the beautiful beaches (much too cold) or the charming townspeople (no offense to those who might be from New Bedford, but with the exception of the incredibly friendly mayor and a few spectators there weren't many New Bedford-ites I would refer to as charming) or even the whaling museum (despite Jeff's assertion that it's a must-see because of the whale skeleton). No, I went to New Bedford to run in a big, ol' 13.1 mile circle. Yes, that's right, I ran a half marathon yesterday... and it smelled like fish.

Fish odor aside, it was a great day. Five of us smushed into Tyler's car (huge thanks to him for driving) and departed Boston around 8 am, arriving in "beautiful" New Bedford at right about 9 (T-2 hours until race time). After picking up our numbers and other race materials in the cafeteria/gym of the elementary school, aka race central (I'll admit, I only called it that in my head), we set up camp on the floor and tried to relax a little in the time before the race. The relaxing thing didn't exactly happen for me... I convinced myself that I might be feeling sick, tied and untied and re-tied my sneakers about 50 times because I was sure that they were too tight or not tight enough, I took alternate outfits out of my bag several times, pondering whether or not I should change my clothes, I put my gloves on, I read a map of New Bedford, I took my gloves off, I ate a Luna Bar and drank some Propel, I then worried that maybe I shouldn't have had more to drink, I took my necklace off, then put it back on thinking maybe it would give me some good luck, I tightened my shoe laces again. Basically, I was a fidgety basketcase, but it made the time go by and next thing I knew we were headed down the hill to the starting line.

I'll skip the majority of the boring details of the race itself except to say 4 things. 1) The beginning of the race was terrible. I felt like the world was running past me at lightening speed and I was moving in slow motion. I, in no way, mistake myself for a speedy runner, but I also don't think I'm the slowest person in the world, I mean, that's a lot of people to be slower than... but that's what it felt like for the first 2 miles of the race. 2) Hills are not fun. They are not fun at the beginning of a race, they are not fun at the end of a race. Period. 3) Having a buddy to run with makes a world of difference. Case in point: my new friend Paul, also a DFMC runner but one I have never met before. He kept me on pace and pushed me through the final hill to the finish, not to mention kept me company throughout some less than scenic sections of New Bedford. And, finally, 4) There's nothing better than coming down the final stretch of a race and having your (much faster) running buddies there waiting for you at the finish (and making a whole lot of noise, I might add) Thanks Lindsey and Jeff!

So, that was my race... I finished in 2 hours and 10 minutes, which I was pretty happy with. I think, had I not felt so absolutely horrible at the beginning, I could have done better, but it was my first half marathon, so I can only get better from here!