Does this bike make me look single?

Today was a day of "firsts"!

I kicked the day off with a swim at the pool, and I made it 1,500 yards which is officially my furthest swim.  Not a bad way to get the day started!

On my lunch break I had planned to ride my bike, and then got to thinking about how I need to start incorporating "brick sessions" into my training.  This is a triathlon-training technique where you ride your bike, hop off, and go for a run on some jelly legs.  Preferably someone is standing by with a video camera to capture your drunk-running.  The purpose is of course to get used to running on the jelly legs so you aren't collapsing into a puddle of flesh on the run portion of the triathlon.

So today, for the first time, I planned out a brick session.  Except, I'm on the "very light/no running" disabled list due to my plantar fasciitis, so hoofing it up my hill would've been a bad idea.  Then I got to thinking, wouldn't it be super fun to bike over to the high school, run on the squishy track, and then bike home!  That's like... a bonus brick!  Like a brick and a half!

Things started off really well, until I tried to leave my own driveway and wiped out just trying to get onto my street!  In my defense, I have a dirt driveway and there's a soft sandy spot right before it turns to asphalt, and right where it turns to asphalt it promptly turns into a 20% grade hill.  (Okay it's less than that but feels like more than that.  For real.)  And luckily I didn't have any neighbors to see this happen.  What really sucked was not getting a head start to get up the hill so it was all quad power all the way up that hill.  But hey, at least I got my first wipe out crossed off the list!

Heading over to the track I flew down the long long hill, topping out at 30mph.  And I was thinking about how much wind was flying through my eyelashes.  What a weird thing to think about!  And then I realized I was wearing the wrong glasses.  The ones that slide way down my nose when I start sweating.  So that's bad.  I was also thinking about how much this long long hill was going to suck to ride back up in a little while.

The trek to the school

As I approached the school I realized I had made an error in judgement.  I thought by now all schools were out for the year, but I forgot that this is a technical school and they have a longer school year, so school was still in session.  I rolled in, didn't get yelled at, so I parked the bike, grabbed a drink, and headed out for a 1 mile run around the track.  I had thought about making it longer than a mile, but I thought I felt a sprinkle.  Was that a sprinkle?  It's not going to rain though, right?

Just as I got onto the track, coincidentally another girl was just getting onto the track for a run, and two men got to the track for a walk.  I think they may have been faculty, because I noticed one of them wearing credentials.

I was pretty psyched to pass the other lady with little effort, and the men I passed two or three times.  Despite my throbbing heel, I managed to bang out a respectable 8:18 mile in some crazy humidity and - I think - sprinkles.  As I was getting back to my bike and preparing to leave, the men stopped me.  I don't know if they were in awe of my bike/run/bike routine, or assumed I was an accomplished athlete due to the impressive amount of KT tape I'm sporting on my leg, but they seemed quite intrigued and peppered me with questions!  Here's a sample of the smattering of questions I fielded:

• So how many times around did you run?
• Four, huh? How far is that?
• How long is your bike ride back?
• How many speeds on your bike?
• What's your bike made out of?
• How heavy is it?
• Do you mind if I try lifting it up?
• Does your boyfriend run and bike with you?

Just checking... did you happen to catch that last question?  I mean, really?  I of course came up with a super un-witty response like, "Oh please, I don't have time for a boyfriend, I'm too busy doing all this stuff".  To which he responded, "Oh and what did you say your cell number was again?"  We both laughed, and I bid them a good day.  But that, my friends, is definitely a first.  No one has ever solicited my relationship status while running or riding my bike!  I just might be onto something with this bike!  I'm thinking about taking her everywhere with me, like my wing man.  To bars, clubs, the grocery store, you name it.  She is quite the looker, so I think we'll get a lot of attention!  

On the way back I took a different road, and braced myself for that hill that I just knew wasn't going to be easy to climb.  As I tried to hold back and store my energy for the hill - a futile effort on my already rubbery legs - I realized that the sprinkles were indeed becoming a full fledged rain storm.  So not only did I have to go up that monster long hill for the first time, I also had to ride my bike in the rain for the first time!  Part of me thought it was awesome, because it was nice and cool, and also because let's face it - I looked like a total bad ass going up that hill in the rain - but a bigger part of me was worried about it getting slippery.   I *tried* to get up that hill in short time, and just as I got back home the skies really opened up and it started pouring.  Luckily I managed not to wipe out in the sand when I got back into my driveway!  

The trek home

So let's recap, today I:

• Hit my first 1,500 yard swim
• Did my first bike/run brick
• Got hit on at the track for the first (and probably only) time
• Rode my bike in the rain for the first time
• Rode up the monster hill for the first time
• Wiped out in my driveway for the first time

I'd say that's a pretty productive and well-rounded day!

Alternate Transportation

By now we all know that I've started becoming obsessed with my new road bike.  (I'm still thinking up names for her).  I try to sneak in a ride on my lunch break when I'm working from home if the weather's good, and then I get out on longer rides on the weekend.  Today was the first time I considered taking her out on an "errand".

I had to stop at the bank today to make a deposit (a rarity), and it's just a few miles away.  I figured why not kill two birds with one stone and bike there!  Seems so simple, but then I start panicking about the logistics.  I do that.  I panic over logistics.  Like, maybe I shouldn't go to the gym because what if I get lost in the building and can't find the pool and if I do find the pool what if there's no open lanes and what if I have to share a lane with someone and what if they say no and I think I just won't go to the gym.  I'm not even kidding.  It took me over two years to build up the courage to take my mountain bike in for a tune up because I was worried about what if I couldn't get the bike through the front door by myself.  No, seriously.  These are the things that keep me up at night.

I told my mother I was planning on going to the bank via bicycle to make a deposit.  She, being a bank teller, would have insight on this topic.  I had planned on just walking into the building, but she thought it was too risky leaving my lovely she-who-has-not-been-named bike out in front of the bank.  She thought I should go to the drive up teller window, and assured me that she, as a seasoned bank teller, has waited on many bicycle riders at the drive up window.  However, this is like my worst nightmare.  I've had my driver's license for 20 years and not once in my life have I ever gone to the drive up teller window.  You know why?  Logistics.  How do they know I'm there?  What if they can't see me?  How do I get the stuff where it needs to go?  What if I can't figure out how to open and close the tube?  And now on top of that I have to worry about: What if they don't let me ride a bike to the drive up teller window?  What if they make fun of me?  What if there is a car behind me?  Before my mother left for work, she gave me a quick tutorial on how to proceed at the drive up window, including how to use the call button, how to open and close the tube, and what to ask for from the teller. (Wait, they can hear me?!)

Before I left for my lunch time death march to the bank, I chatted with Scott, a seasoned cyclist.  He brought up a good point, that it was important to exude a certain level of smug.  In other words, make sure I don't look like "the poor girl who doesn't have a car and has to ride a silly bicycle to the bank", but more like "the athlete that is so busy training for upcoming triathlons and just can't even break away for errands and has to therefore incorporate said errands into her very, very hectic and demanding training schedule".  Got it.

I headed out on my trip, and a couple miles in I was having so much fun on my bike that I lost nearly all anxiety of the drive up window logistics.  When I did arrive, thankfully no one was in line.  I hopped off my bike, pulled my check out of the bag, and noticed no one was at the window.  I pressed the call button.  Immediately a teller came over to the window and exclaimed that "Oh my God you're on a bike!  I've never waited on a customer on a bicycle before!" and with that her co-workers flocked to the window to investigate.  I played it totally cool.  I was like, "yeah I figured, it's only a few miles out of the way, and it's a beautiful day out, so..."  'Nuff said.  I did exactly what Mom said to do, and my only hiccup was when I tried to balance my bike against my leg while writing out a deposit slip, and the bike slid down to the ground.  Fear not!  I caught her before she landed, but not before she bit me in the leg.  I deserved it for my carelessness.  Apart from that, it was a successful and entertaining trip to the bank, and I'm sure I'll be working that into my routine.  Of course, that will require money to deposit.  Soooo... announcing the Jill Rolls to the Bank Fund!  Feel free to donate!  Just kidding.  Or not. :-)

Six week round-up

It's been a while.  You know the drill.  Too busy doing stuff to write, too injured to run, and not really much to say.  So here are some of the highlights and low lights since the Boston Marathon.

According to the BAA, I did in fact "complete" the Boston Marathon, in a (projected) time of 4:45.  I will also be invited back with the other 5,700 runners that "completed" (wink, wink) the marathon to run it again in 2014.  I really only wanted to run it once, but what can I say?  I'll share my thoughts and feelings later.  This post is all about the reader's digest.

My heel kept bugging me after the marathon and after lots of icing and stretching I visited a podiatrist.  Not the same clown I saw for the stress fracture last year.  This one came highly recommended.  And he lived up to expectations.  I adore this guy.  Yes, he confirmed, a rather nasty case of Plantar Fasciitis.  First he taped it all up for me, then at the next visit he took some Power Step inserts and modified them with all sorts of chunks of felt wedging.  All the while I was laying off of running, which made me twitch a little especially with a half marathon coming up on Memorial Day weekend.  After 10 days of no running, I went with my brandy-new inserts to the track and did a two mile test run, the day before the half marathon.  It actually went a little better than I expected, so I packed up and headed to the Cape with Marie for race weekend.

I won't do a whole "race report" for this race, because I don't want to depress anyone.  But here's the gist:  When we ran Hyannis in February, pouring rain and low 40's, Julia said, "Hey let's come back here in May and run it again.  It will be Memorial Day weekend", she said.  "It will be all warm and summery" she said.  Fast forward to Memorial Day weekend, and it was raining, raw, and freezing.  People wore winter hats.  It was actually colder than it had been in February.  And it was windy.  The wind actually made me angry.  I actually swore at the wind a few times.  No matter which direction I turned, it was a headwind.  I've never wanted a race to end more than I did that day.  I won't tell you my time, but when Julia passed me at mile 11 with full-on bacterial pneumonia, I think you can read between the lines.  It just wasn't my day.  In any case, it was still a fun weekend and gave us some laughs.  Except for my heel, which wasn't laughing.  It was crying and screaming and bawling its skin off.

I resumed the "rest" therapy after the half marathon, but with little improvement I finally called the doctor back and said I wanted physical therapy.  He agreed, and that very same day I was able to get into PT.  After a thorough evaluation, my new therapist Dave announced that my problem really stems from my right hip, which is very weak.  (I feel Liza scowling at me).  (Liza has told me this on many occasions).  So, rather than just focusing on getting my heel all patched up, I need to start doing a smattering of different hip strengthening exercises.  This really bugs me, because I really thought I was done with the "hip pain" stage of my life (at least for a couple more decades) but it's all coming back to haunt me.  Going to PT brings back nightmares of post-hip surgery.  So here I am, after my 2nd PT session, with a really sore hip in addition to my sore heel.  Now I feel like I'm going backwards.  So let's talk about something else...

Swimming!  I've been hitting the pool 2-3 times a week, and although I was convinced I wasn't getting any better, it finally occurred to me that I'm building up a lot more endurance.  A couple weeks ago I made it to a half mile for the first time!  Now I'm up to just over a half mile, and trying to tack on a couple extra laps each week.

Biking!  In probably the best impulse decision of my life, I went and bought a road bike.  Most of the track girls have road bikes, and they were starting to get together for road rides.  I knew I couldn't keep up with them on my mountain bike, and by golly I wanted to be part of the group!  After doing some research online, I thought I knew what I wanted.  Then I talked to a lot of experienced cyclists, and they convinced me that I needed something a little better than an entry level bike.  Especially someone like me, who tends to go "all in" with things.  It was repeated over and over again that I would quickly regret getting something so entry level.  Then I did some more chatting up with local folks to find a good bike shop, and Coleen turned me onto Landry's in Westboro.  I entered the shop apprehensively, afraid I'd be overwhelmed with choices.  Instead, Ben was super helpful and didn't even give me a funny look when I told him I'd never ridden a road bike before.  He showed me all different brands, sized me up, and taught me how to shift.  Amazingly enough, they had a bike my size in stock (she's little, but she's fierce!).  Saying I was nervous test riding it in the parking lot would be an understatement.  The bike was so lightweight, I was afraid a gust of wind would knock me right over!  But, it was comfortable, shifted easily, and it was something I could grow into, so I bought it!

She's a beauty!

I've gotten in a bunch of successful rides, slowly progressing with trickier intersections and traffic situations.  Yesterday I went for my custom bike fitting, which made it "just for me" and even more awesome.  I can't say enough good things about the guys at Landry's.  They are so helpful, and they have organized Saturday morning group rides that I'm hoping to go to sometimes this summer.

Racking up some quick miles on the new Trek!

Triathlons!  (WHAT??) Sometimes if you pick just the right time, like when I'm high on running endorphins or particularly proud of myself during a good swim session, you can talk me into things.  Somehow Marie, Kristen, and Coleen each got to me during various stages of euphoria, and I impulsively signed up for a Sprint Triathlon in July!  I've had a knot in my stomach ever since.  I'm nervous but definitely looking forward to doing this with my friends.  It's a good "first timer" triathlon, and it's ALL FEMALE!  Girl power!  I fully expect every one of my guy friends to come out and applaud us!  On second thought, I'll be wearing some pretty unflattering clothes.  Please stay home.

What I'm not doing:
Racing.  I won't be running the 4th of July Finish on the 50 like I do every year.  I also bowed out of the Old Port Half Marathon in Portland, Maine.  I have a 1 mile track race this weekend that I'm tentatively planning to still run.  I might need to do a little test run this week to make sure I can handle it!

I'm actually okay with giving up a couple races.  I don't really like running a ton in the summer anyways, so I'm going to take it easy, do my PT, swim, bike, and just do a few light runs.  And blog.  I'll do more blogging, I promise.  I was in a bit of a post Boston Marathon mental funk, where the thoughts I had just weren't worth sharing, but I'm climbing my way out of that and looking forward to new adventures!

Boston Marathon Recap

Over the last few days I have grappled with a lot of emotions, mostly negative, and I've struggled with how to even begin to summarize what should have been one of the brightest days of my life.  I can't really think of a way to talk about the bad without talking about the good, and vice versa.  The day was the best and worst, so that's how I'll attempt to explain it.  Forgive me if I ramble.

How I got roped into this...
I can't start off talking about the marathon without giving some background.  Fact: I'm not much of a marathon runner.  Fact:  I never ran more than ten steps until 2009, except for the rare occasion when I'd have to chase a loose horse.  When I joined my running club I met people (real people!) who have actually run the marathon and I was amazed to even know people that could run that far.  Two years ago I brought my son to watch the marathon start in Hopkinton and was star struck by the elites, inspired by the mobility impaired, and dazzled by the sheer volume of runners out there busting their asses to raise money for worthy causes.  And I thought, I could never do this.  Could I?  I wonder, if I had enough training and time, if I could do it someday.  Fast forward two weeks, where in the span of a millisecond I tore my hip socket apart in an unfortunate misstep on a trail run, and my "Could I's" were replaced with "Never will's".

At last year's Boston Marathon, as I continued to mend from my hip surgery, I volunteered at the 2 mile water stop in Ashland.  Again I was star struck, again inspired, and again dazzled.  And I thought, I think I want to do this.  If I can stay healthy and my hip heals up right, I might just want to give this a try.  

Throughout last year's track season, I became very close to the other girls and we started running long on the weekends together in addition to our Wednesday night track ritual.  On these long runs we started talking about Boston.  About how great it would be if we could all get numbers and run America's greatest race all together.  We were elated when all of us received numbers through various means, and spent countless hours running, swimming, biking, talking, laughing, crying, eating, and drinking together.  They supported me when I broke my foot, we supported Coleen through her sicknesses, Jackie through her foot pain, Marie through her heel pain, Julia through her IT band pain.  We suffered together.  We froze together.  We were sandblasted in the face by salt trucks together.  These events all shaped us into stronger people and only created even greater excitement and enthusiasm for our upcoming marathon.  It wasn't a perfect training season for any of us individually, but collectively it was.  I can't imagine ever being able to replicate our amazing journey that led up to this day.

Marathon weekend
On Saturday, I went into Boston with Marie and her husband Anthony to the Hynes Convention Center for the packet pickup and race expo.  Just surviving the trip is in itself an accomplishment and test of endurance.  The city was in complete gridlock due to the expo and the Red Sox game. We finally made it in, got our numbers, and braved the crowds to do a little shopping.  The thick crowds deterred me from spending too much, but I did manage to get the essentials.

Yes, the stuffed unicorn was essential

After the race expo, we headed back to Marie's house for a pre-race dinner and manicure party with the rest of the track girls.  It was a great way to cap off our training season!

Marathon Morning
We met on Marathon Morning at Julia's house in Milford, and then went together to EMC in Hopkinton to get the bus to the start line.  I was surprised at how far away the bus dropped us off from the Athlete's Village, but the walk was kind of nice to "take it all in" and try to calm the nerves.  As we were walking towards the Athlete's Village, all of the runners in Wave 1 were heading to the start line.  It was great watching them head towards their race.  The crowds were very thick at the village but the buses were well organized and I dropped off my bag in the bag check with ease.  Despite the tens of thousands of people in the village, we found other members of our running club with little trouble.  I wonder if it had anything to do with our shirts.

Until this picture was taken I literally had no idea I was this short.  What an eye opener!

Want to hear a really bad joke?  Just before we left the Athlete's Village, Marie started making her race drink by pouring white powder into her bottle.  With the breeze and shaky hands, quite a bit of the powder ended up on the ground.  Ready for it?  So then I say, "And the 117th Boston Marathon is canceled when suspicious white powder is found at the start line, prompting a terrorist scare and evacuation!"  Not so funny now, is it?

The Race
We made our way back towards the start line, pee'd a whole bunch more times, and then headed into our corrals.  The feeling was electric.  We were super-charged.  Jittery, excited, chilly, anxious.  There were smiles, laughs, and tears of joy.  When the gun went off, I screamed like I had been shot in the ass, and we started the slow walk to the start line.

The first mile was extremely crowded and nearly impossible to maneuver around anyone.  That was probably a blessing because otherwise I think a lot of us would have sprinted off the start line and down the hill.  We all settled into a slow pace and were completely amazed by the thick lines of spectators on both sides of the street.  My son and sister were at TJ's bar in Ashland so I stayed on the left side of the road so I could see them.  That was a fun section since everyone at TJ's had been there since 7am and were pretty riled up and sauced.  Just after passing TJ's, Jackie and I edged our way over to the right side of the street to wave to Kerri who was working at the 2 mile water stop.  After that, it was time to settle in.  I wouldn't see anymore familiar faces until mile 13.

Funny comment from a spectator that I overheard: "Oh my God, is this ever going to end?!"  Clearly that person isn't cut out to be a marathon runner, if they can't even stand in one spot and watch a marathon go by.

Down, down, down the course went through Hopkinton and Ashland and into Framingham.  Some sections of road were bare, but most were full of house parties and huge groups of spectators.  We saw lots of drunk people and smelled lots of grills.  During our training run on the course I commented on how ugly Framingham was.  Well what a difference a day makes.  I loved running through Framingham on race day!  The streets were packed with spectators, huge sound systems blasting Latin music, and smells of food that were so good it made my stomach growl.  I also decided at this stage of the race that I liked being a back-of-the-pack runner.  These runners are more fun.  I got passed by a guy wearing a tutu, a guy whose entire body was spray painted red, and a guy dressed like Pesky's Pole.  At first I got a kick out of Pesky's Pole.  Every spectator did too.  But after running near this guy for 10 miles, it wasn't fun anymore.  How many times could I bear to hear, "Oh look, it's Pesky Pole!"  I just wanted to beat them to it and yell, "Yeah let me guess, Pesky Pole right?  Big F'ing deal!"

I didn't even mean to take a picture of Pesky, but he managed to photo-bomb just about every picture I tried to take of the Wellesley girls.  What a jerk.  (Is it now considered in poor taste to use the term "photo bomb", particularly as it relates to marathons?  I just don't know).

Other popular get-ups were cheeseburgers.  And if you're sitting there thinking, "hey I have a great idea.  Next year I'm going to be super original and dress up like a cheeseburger and run the marathon, because no one would ever think of doing that", let me save you the trouble.

Another funny spectator comment I overheard: "More cheeseburgers?  I can't believe how many cheeseburgers are running today!"  Translate:  I can't believe how many people are wearing cheeseburger costumes and running faster than me.  Sigh...

Funny spectator moment:  The sign that said, "Smile if you're not wearing underwear!"  I smiled, because I couldn't help it, even though I was wearing underwear.

At mile 13 I was excited to see my friends Anthony, Joe, and Jeff guarding the 13 mile clock.

All smiles heading at mile 13

After a quick hug, I took off for the second half of the race.  I knew the next familiar face I would see would be my mother, who was going to be "somewhere after Heartbreak Hill and wearing a bright yellow jacket".

Funny spectator moment:  There were dozens of trampolines lined up along the road and spectators were jumping on them.  I have no idea why.  But it was hysterical for some reason.

Shortly after leaving Anthony's crew, things started happening that I didn't expect.  My legs got really weak and tired.  I started craving Gatorade, which I don't usually drink. I took a freeze pop from a spectator.  I started walking through the water stops, and then found myself walking for about a full minute after the water stops.  I did everything I could to preserve the energy I had and fuel myself the best I could, but I knew that today wasn't my day to run hard.  I can't explain it exactly, but I was really okay with it.  My only other marathon was Disney, with a semi-broken foot in a time of 5:24, so really anything would be better than that.  While out on the course, I mentally adjusted my original goal of 4:30, and decided I would be totally fine with finishing in 4:45 if it meant I would finish the race upright and happy.

Funny spectator moment: The lady that said, "Hurry up and finish this damn race!"

The Wellesley girls were every bit as awesome as I've heard!

The part of the race I dreaded the most wasn't Heartbreak Hill.  It was the 95 overpass.  This section of the course was a source of extreme anxiety during the training runs.  Again, what a difference a day makes.  Without traffic, dodging people coming on and off the highway, and navigating up and down huge curbs, I got up and over the highway with no issue whatsoever.  When I turned right at the fire house onto route 30 and started up the first of the hills, I welcomed the change of direction.  Finally, a bit of a headwind hit me.  Some people hate the headwind, but I enjoyed the breeze.  It cooled me down and brought me back to life.  I started making my way up the hill and caught up to Justin, one of our club members.  I walked with him for a few seconds to say hi and tell him what a great job he was doing, and then I continued on.  I had been talking myself out of believing that I had to pee for quite a while, but after the second hill I realized that maybe I actually did have to go, and since at this point I knew I wasn't going to win the laurel wreath or even a scrap of prize money, I made a quick in-and-out.  I also started keeping my eyes peeled for Mom, just in case she found a spot earlier in the course.  She ended up being very easy to spot, right at mile 21, on a street corner all by herself.  Which reminds me, I saw the funniest sign from a spectator.  It said, "It's called a marathon!  If it were easy, it would be called 'your mother'!"  I stopped at mom, gave her a big stinky hug, and drank half of her bottle of water.  I told her I was tired but feeling good.  She said just 5 miles left to go, and with that I was off and running with energy restored.

The final miles
Two great things came out of doing training runs on the course.  1. I was very familiar with the beginning of the course, so I was prepared for the long downhills and was prepared for the uphills when my legs were gassed.  2.  I had never run past mile 21, so from that point on everything was new and exciting again.  After mile 21 it heads downhill again, straight past Boston College.  This turned out to be my absolute least favorite part of the course.  The spectators were rowdy, shitfaced coeds that seemed less "motivating" and more "disorderly".  This is the only time in the race that I wished I had brought an iPod to tune out the crowds.  Of course, at this point I was also very tired, absolutely starving, and I had a blister on the bottom of my foot that had been bothering me for about 10 miles.  At mile 23, that sucker popped, and holy crap did that hurt.  After a minute of searing pain, it didn't bother me anymore, probably because at least the pressure was relieved that had been building up.  Also, adrenaline kicked in when I spotted this welcome sign.

It took me two days to go back and look at the pictures from the Boston Marathon.  When I did, I was struck by this picture.  At the time, I thought I was just taking a picture of the Citgo sign.  Looking back, I believe this was shortly after the bombing, as the cops were starting to get questions from the spectators.

Mile 24
Hitting the mile 24 marker was exciting, because I said to myself, "I only have to run for about 22 more minutes".  However, my foot was killing me because my feet had swelled and my shoes were tied too tight.  The decision to be made was, do I grin and bear it in pain for 22 minutes, or do I stop and fix my shoes.  At this point it wasn't about my time, because I was only going to waste about 30 seconds and really, what's the difference.  The concern was, if I stopped, would I be able to start again.  I had decided a couple miles back that I couldn't take anymore walk breaks because it was so hard to start running again, and I was worried that stopping now would be a disaster.  But, the top of my foot was screaming at me, and I saw an empty spectator chair, so I ran over to it, plopped my soggy butt in it, and fixed my shoe.  Then the weirdest thing happened.  Another runner came up to me, phone up to her ear, and told me she heard there was some sort of explosion at the finish line.  I said, what does that mean?  Like what kind of explosion?  She didn't know, and we thought, well maybe it's a hoax, or some punk with a firecracker, or the clock fried, or a manhole cover blew.  So weird.  Anyhoo, time to finish up this race.

Mile 25
We all know I don't run well when under stress, so it seemed a little cruel for the last two miles of my Boston Marathon to be stressing out over what was happening at the finish line.  We're lucky I didn't crap my pants right then and there.  I had wished that lady never said anything to me, since obviously nothing was wrong.  If there was any form of danger at the finish line, none of these cops or National Guard lined up along the course would sit and watch us march toward doom.  The volunteers wouldn't still be handing us water and saying "almost done!" and the spectators wouldn't still be standing there cheering us on.  I saw the sign "1 mile to go!" and was kicking it up a notch to finish strong.  Less than 10 minutes left to run, I told myself.

My first clue that something was really off was when I noticed a significant shift in behavior from the cops and National Guard.  Up until this point in the course, they had all been watching the runners.  Now they were watching the spectators.  They were analyzing crowds, looking for suspicious activity.  The cops wore frowns, and the National Guardsman looked like they were going to war.  I saw runners running with phones up to their ears.  I heard sirens.  Not the occasional ambulance siren that we sometimes unfortunately hear during these types of races, but armies of sirens.  Helicopters hovered over us.  The mood of the race changed from jubilation into confusion and terror.

At mile 25.7, Jackie spotted me, ran across the street, grabbed my arm, and pulled me off the course.  She told me the race was over.  Something bad happened, and they were diverting runners.  In hindsight, it seems hard to believe that I didn't comprehend what she was saying, especially after everything I had witnessed over the last mile.  But my nearly 26 miles of running, sheer exhaustion, and determination to cross that finish line left me bewildered.  I questioned where they were diverting runners to, because that's where I wanted to go, to cross wherever the new finish line was.  I didn't stop my watch, because I couldn't grasp that this really was the end for me.  After several minutes of her explaining the situation, and seeing Julia's somber face, and realizing that neither of them finished the race, I shut off my watch and sat on the curb.  And then I nearly froze to death.

The bitter end - refugee status
Quickly I stiffened up and got really cold, really fast.  My heel seized up on me.  I hobbled over to a medical tent and grabbed a heat sheet and wrapped myself in it for a tiny bit of warmth, while Jackie, Julia, and Mike tried frantically to call people.  Our cells weren't working to make calls or send texts, but I could receive texts.  Being unable to reach our friends that were on the course ahead of us, or any of our friends that were spectating at the finish line left us in a state of complete panic.  We couldn't get to the bus that had our checked bags, and we couldn't get to the shuttle bus back to Hopkinton.  Maybe we could, I'm not really sure.  It was so confusing and the cops weren't up for playing tour guide, and I don't really know my way around Boston.  My shivering turned into groaning as I rocked back and forth to stay warm and clutched my heel that was in extreme pain.  Jackie (bless her) tossed me a bottle of Ibuprofin and I took 4, and leaned against her for warmth.  In a matter of minutes, I went from near-triumphant Boston Marathon finisher to refugee in survival mode.  We spend months planning not only how to run the race, but how to recover from it.  I had a bag packed and waiting for me at the finish line with warm clothes, salty snacks, and a recovery drink.  Instead, we sat there feeling very vulnerable.  Julia's husband found us, and he literally gave me the shirt off his back (which went to my knees) and his kid's peanut butter sandwich.  I continued trying to use my phone and although I still couldn't make a call, I was able to put an update on Facebook saying that I was okay.  A cop stopped by and searched Mike's backpack (which we later speculated he was probably very happy to only find some face wipes, Ibuprofin, and Jackie's underwear) and then told us we needed to get off the street.  Where, we asked?  That way, he pointed.  Away from the finish line.  Kind of a broad definition, we thought.  We're just simple country people.  We contemplated taking the green line out of the city, but I refused to take any form of mass transit.  Not an issue, it turns out, since they shut down the green line.  We tried to get a cab, but they were all full.  We even flagged down a limo, but he wasn't up for a field trip to Hopkinton.  So we walked.  Slowly, still panicking, still trying to use the phone, with purple lips and agonizing footsteps, we walked down Comm Ave away from the city.  Eventually we were far enough out of the fray that our phones worked, so we made a couple critical calls to make sure our friends were all accounted for, and to our families to let them know we were safe.  Jackie called her sister to come pick us up "in the biggest vehicle you can find".  And then we found a bar.  I've never been so proud of myself for packing my phone, my driver's license, and a 20 dollar bill in my race belt!

When faced with terror, we revert to something familiar...

After about a half hour sitting at the bar, Jackie and I realized that not only did we look like refugees, but our faces were caked with salt from sweating.  So we washed our faces.  Right on our bar stools.  Who's gonna say no?

Classy :-)

Jackie's sister and family arrived, and true to word, they showed up in the biggest vehicle they had. A roomy van, tall enough to stand in, with a TV, cushy seats with arm rests, and lots of blankets in the back to keep us warm.  I think the only thing missing was the stripper pole.  I jokingly said the only thing that would make this van better was if it had booze in it.  Guess what, it got better!

The aftermath
It's hard to put into words how I feel about the day.  I'm angry.  Sad.  Scared.  Depressed.  Empty.  Lost.  Disappointed.  And on top of that I feel guilty for feeling all of those things.  Things you aren't supposed to hear after you run a marathon: "I'm so glad you're safe".  "I'm so glad you're alive".  You aren't supposed to hear phrases like "The Boston Marathon Massacre".  "The victims of the Boston Marathon".  "The Boston Marathon Memorial Service".  People are showing resilience and saying, "I'll be back next year, and it will be better than ever!".  I'm just not there yet. Right now I don't want to be in a city.  I don't want to be in a crowd of people, and I don't want to run down Boylston Street.  It's a road race, it's not supposed to be scary.  It's not a violent sport, or a controversial one, and people aren't supposed to be murdered.  I couldn't wait to cross the finish line because one of the first things I was going to do was call my friend Scott and tell him to hurry up and qualify for Boston because this was the best race ever and he needs to do it!  That was robbed from me.  The race has left me feeling unfulfilled instead of triumphant.  Some peoples' reaction to that is to immediately sign up for another marathon next month as a do-over.  Some races are setting up special finish lines for the Boston runners that didn't finish, so that they can cross a "Boston" finish line in a symbolic gesture.  I don't think either of those things will help me feel closure.  For me, the marathon is what it is, and only time will heal that wound.

I'm getting by the best way I can.  I'm grieving, and it's tough to relive that day and tough to hear it from my friends' perspectives, who all had slightly different vantage points and proximities to the bombing.  I'm dark and unfriendly at times.  I've been moody, flying off the handle at my family, and I've cried in stores for no reason at all.  Any downtime leaves me feeling fidgety.  Public places make me sweat.  I've heard all of these things are normal, so I'm doing the best I can, trying not to watch the news too much, and hoping that I can find peace.  One thing is for sure.  These days following the marathon have been harder than the days leading up to it, but again I've been so fortunate to endure it with some amazing people.

Coleen is missing from this photo, but she's amazing too!

Going Mental!

The Boston Marathon is just a few days away.  The "hay is in the barn" so to speak.  Training is done, miles are banked, and during this time of taper, we try not to unravel.  At least that's what I've heard.

This is a unique situation for me, because when I ran the Disney marathon there was no taper.  I was just trying to get in one or two 10+ mile runs before the marathon.  And oddly enough I wasn't even all that worried about it.  This time I actually put in the miles, so this is my first time truly "tapering" for race day.

I've heard stories about the perils of tapering.  About people second guessing whether or not they were prepared.  People going absolutely stir crazy because they weren't running 5-6 days a week and exhausting themselves on a weekend super-long run.  I was warned that I will feel moody, cranky, irritated, under-prepared, jittery, nervous, anxious, restless, tired, etc., etc., etc.  The nasty truth is that on Easter morning when I ran 12 miles with Julia, I was thrilled that this would be my last double digit run for a few weeks.  The fact that I was so happy about that makes me a bit nervous, because as a marathon runner I probably shouldn't be quite that excited about not running.  I told you, it's a nasty truth and a secret I'm only sharing with you.

More truth: For the week following my Easter 12 miler, I was completely, totally, exhausted.  My body hurt.  I was stiff, sore, foggy, and just totally dragging both mentally and physically. I did a couple short runs that I just couldn't wait to be over, and then I started wondering how the hell I was going to do a marathon when I could barely drag myself through 4 miles.  Maybe I'm really not ready for this.  Maybe I'm really just not cut out for this foolish long distance running.

My energy slowly started to return, and then I realized that not running 5-6 days a week meant that I had a lot more free time!  One day on my lunch break I ate lunch outside in the sun.  Imagine that!  Then I decided that I could finally start riding my horse since I had all kinds of extra time in the afternoon.  That proved to be a bit risky, and with his wild antics and me hanging off the side of him and tweaking my knee, back, arms, and shoulders in the process, decided that maybe I should wait til after the marathon to get that knucklehead back in shape!

The point is, I never felt guilty about not running.  I didn't miss it.  I welcomed the time off, and that's what got me nervous.  I really started questioning whether or not I would be able to pull this off, because it is starting to feel like forever since I ran a long distance.  In truth, my body was really feeling the effects of a lot of training and I became worried that all these aches and pains were going to come to a head on marathon day.  My knee, which had already been cranky just prior to our 21 mile run, became further traumatized after clamping down on my horses's side last week like a vice grip.  My heel, which had been giving me some pain, became extremely sore after the 21 miler and I could barely put weight on it.  And that made me nervous.  I rolled it, massaged it, iced it, drugged it, and stretched it like it was my job, and tried to work out the problem with limited success.  All the while, I saw status updates on Facebook of other future Boston Marathon runners that were suffering with the taper, and having taper tantrums!  I don't even know what that means!

My friend Liza who does my massage offered to hook me up with a friend of hers that provides laser treatments so that I could try to jump-start the healing process.  Desperate for any short cut I graciously accepted her offer, but unfortunately the appointment fell through because she forgot to bring the laser!  While I was there, she started analyzing me and candidly pointed out many of my "unique qualities".  Yes, I know my right leg is a bit rotated.  Yes, I'm slightly pigeon-toed.  Yup, my hips aren't even.  Yes, my elbows and knees have always hyper-extended.  Do I usually stand with my feet this distance apart?  I think so.  Wait, what's that you say?  According to my knees I have a kidney disorder?  No I was not aware of that.  Liza tried to save me by explaining that I did just recently arm wrestle a horse and although I do tend to go 100% full speed ahead constantly, I'm not usually this banged up.  Her friend said the plain truth is that I'm setting myself up for injury (ha! The horse already left the barn on that one!) and that we needed to get me straightened out.

As I struggled to get my energy back, I chewed on what she said for a couple days.  I rode my horse again Sunday and although he was much better this time, I decided I was still too tired and sore to do a long run, so I skipped my 8 miler altogether.  On Monday I felt surprisingly peppy, and had a beautiful 4 mile run near my house.  As I ran across the dam on my way back home, on a perfect 60 degree sunny day, I became enlightened.  This is when I realized that the mental preparation for this marathon is at least as important as the physical preparation, and in the final weeks is probably about 85% of the battle.  I am particularly good at putting myself down, downplaying my accomplishments, qualifying any compliments with "well yeah but technically I didn't really 'run' the entire marathon so that one doesn't count", and otherwise filling my head with negativity and self doubt.  And I realized that I needed to let go of every negative thought in my head.  To do this successfully means that I need to avoid stressful situations, surround myself with positive people, and replace all of my negative thoughts with positive ones.

Trolling through Instagram yesterday I found a great quote: "I believe in myself.  I am a strong person.  I will reach my goals.  Nothing will hold me down.  This is my time to shine".

Running Boston isn't a dream come true, because I never even dared to dream of being capable of doing something like this.
I may not be the most gifted runner, but running is a gift I have given myself.
Running didn't come naturally to me.  I made it happen.
I wasn't born ready.  I made myself ready.
I may not be the best, but I'm the best version of myself.

At the pool last night I shared my positive outlook with Marie.  As we were leaving, the lifeguard wished us best of luck in the marathon, at which point our nosy neighbor (who always manages to get a lane next to us) pointed out how crippling running can be to the body.  We booked it out of there!

And now to lighten the mood... Jackie sent out an email today asking us what kind of underwear we wear running (if any).  Apparently she had an awkward conversation in a store about it, which spurred the question.  Well it turns out there is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to underoos, and we all seem to have different preferences.  I'm not naming names, but there was everything from granny panties to thongs to good old commando.  Hey, whatever blows your skirt up, right?  It was by far the most entertaining email string I've seen in a while and brightened my day tremendously!  Yes, I think for sure we are all going mental!

5 days away!!

Trot Trot to Boston!

Three weeks from today is the Boston Marathon, meaning that three weeks and one day from now you won't have to keep hearing from me about the Boston Marathon.  I can't help it, I just can't stop talking about it!  Everything in my life seems to revolve around the Boston Marathon.  Every training run, every "race that I run like a training run", every night I don't go out for beers with friends because "two days from now I have a long run and I need to be hydrating already", every carefully planned meal which is tweaked, tested, and analyzed, and every bottle of Pepto.  Fortunately I have a lot of running friends that are going through this all with me, and pretty much all any of us talk about now is Boston.  And I have this blog, which helps me communicate my thoughts to absolutely no one in particular.  Even still, I find myself assaulting people with my Boston-excitement, including people that have absolutely no desire to hear about my long runs, missing toenails, hectic poop schedule, or snot rockets.  But here you are, reading this, so I'm just gonna go ahead and keep talking about Boston a little longer.

Last Tuesday I did another set of hill repeats, this time making it up my dreadful hill six times (my previous record was four).  I was pretty happy with myself, and my muscles definitely didn't feel as sore as the week before.  On Wednesday I planned a 5.5 mile run at lunch, but shortly after starting off, I felt a sharp pain on the outside of my left knee while I was running downhill.  I figured it was one of those random aches (after running this much, these things happen) and waited for it to shake out.  When the sharp pain started lingering more and then radiating to the inside of my knee, I realized this wasn't just a random ache and decided to cut my run short to 4 miles.  I wasn't overly concerned about it since we are bound to have off days when running this much.  Thursday I took a rest day to see if that helped, and I wouldn't say it was worse but it wasn't really better either.  On Friday I ran a slow and easy 5.6 miles at lunch, and I still felt the pain, especially running downhill.  At that point I started getting nervous, with my 21 mile run scheduled for Sunday, I didn't have a whole lot of time to get this knee issue resolved.  The condition my knee was in Friday, I knew that 21 miles would not have been possible.  This close to Boston I hated having to think about doing anything different, but I was getting desperate, so I went to Sports Authority and picked up some KT Tape.  I had never used it before and never really gave it much thought, but I remember nearly every single person in the Disney Marathon was wearing it so there must be some benefit.  The KT Tape website has instructional videos to properly apply the tape based on whatever area hurts, and after a quick tutorial I gave it a shot.

This is how I roll on a Friday night

I was instantly impressed with the KT Tape.  It definitely gave my knee support and immediately decreased the pain.  The inside of my knee hurt as well, so I added a strip there too.  On Saturday, I still had the tape on, and spent much of the day icing my knee.  I also took very generous amounts of Ibuprofen because I could tell it was swollen.  I'm not a huge fan of taking medication and I'm sure I'll end up with a bleeding stomach, but I was desperate to get this under control before Sunday's run.  Saturday afternoon I went with Mom to the Milford bike path and did a 3 mile walk, which I hoped would help loosen up the knee.  The bike path is a good place to walk because it's mostly flat, and my knee seems to get extra cranky going downhill.  After a little while it definitely seemed to loosen up and I could almost feel the swelling go down, and my mother compared it to how our older horses get puffy legs, but after they walk around for a while, the puffiness goes down.  It made sense, and I made a mental note to walk around a bit tomorrow before the run.

Sunday morning I woke up at 4:30am, tested the knee, and even though I could feel it wasn't quite right, I took a gamble.  It was very important psychologically for me to get this 21 mile run in, so I decided it was worth the risk of hurting the knee more.  Once I made that decision, I had to be at peace with it.  I have found that anxiety has definitely been the culprit of a few lousy runs lately, so I couldn't keep second guessing my decision to run.  Either it would work, or it wouldn't, and that was that.

Leading up to this run I was very careful about my nutrition.  I halted all vegetables and dairy products as early as Thursday.  By Saturday, I had a banana for breakfast, and then nothing but rice and chicken for the rest of the day.  On Sunday morning, I had a mini bagel with peanut butter, half a banana, and a dose of Pepto Bismol.  I wanted to eat this as early as possible so that I could have at minimum two hours to digest before running.  Then I took a long hot shower, got dressed, and took another dose of Pepto before heading out.

Getting dressed is complicated!

I ran the 21 mile course with the Hopkinton Running Club.  They organize an on-course run and I had heard good things about it.  The start times are staggered, with the goal that everyone finishes their run as close to 11am as possible.  Since I planned to go at a 10:30 pace, that put me in one of the earlier start times.  And man, was it freeeezing!  29 degrees at the start, I was really excited to get moving!  I threw my bag on the bus and checked in.  I asked what would happen if my knee exploded, and how would I get back.  The organizer assured me that she would be driving the course and I would definitely have a way back in case anything went wrong.  That was the final peace of mind I needed, and after that I was ready to rock.  Since I was going slower than the girls, I started earlier with Brad.  Brad's plan was to run with me until the girls caught us (which he guessed would be somewhere around the half marathon mark) and then pick up the pace and run with them the rest of the way if he was feeling good.  

The miles just ticked away so easily, and Brad had to frequently remind me that we were going faster than I planned.  Brad was really fun to run with and kept it entertaining with a lot of conversation.  The Hopkinton club had four water stops set up, at miles 5.5, 10.5, 14, and 18.  I thought these were so well spaced apart, and really helped to break up the run. Because they needed to keep track of all the runners, we all had to stop and check in, and we had to drink the water right there at the table.  They also had Gatorade and jelly beans and some first aid equipment.  Some people ran by and shouted out their names, but I welcomed the stop, drank my water (and got killer brain freeze) and then headed out again.  I never stopped my watch during these breaks (some lasted 1-2 minutes) so I was curious to see how that would impact my pace.  I was really surprised at how well I was feeling.  I could feel my knee wasn't quite right, but nothing to cause a problem.  The best part was that my energy level was high.  One of my most successful long runs was an 18 miler I had done in Upton, so I decided to take the exact same approach to fueling.  I started off with Clif shot blocks in the first 6 miles, and then I switched to a caffeinated Perpetuem drink.  This seems to be the perfect combination for me, and it's what I'll do on race day.
We flew into Ashland, and kept ticking off the miles through Framingham and Natick, and the closer we got to Boston the more runners we started seeing.  Finally at the 14 mile water stop, Marie and Julia caught up to us, so Brad ran with them and I ran with a couple girls from the Hopkinton club.  It was a good thing I hung around with them, because they nearly missed the turn onto Commonwealth Ave in Newton!  
Something weird happens when training for a marathon.  Your perspective on distance gets really warped.  Like when you reach mile 17 and you think, oh cool, only 4 miles up these hills and I'm done!  There was a day when I couldn't run 4 miles.  Or even 1!  At almost mile 18 I stopped at a water stop and then realized it wasn't the Hopkinton table (oops!) but the girls there were really nice and gave me some water.  At this point, Commonwealth Ave was completely overwhelmed with runners of all shapes, sizes, and speeds going up and down the hills.  It was a truly amazing sight.  I stopped at "the real" 18 mile water stop, checked in, and then continued on for the final leg of this journey.  At this point I was in no rush, and I was at complete peace knowing that I had this.  I had already run 18 miles and felt good.  Strong.  Prepared.  And then it hit me.  In three weeks I'm running the Boston Marathon.  THE Boston-Freaking-Marathon!  I'm watching all of these amazing runners on Heartbreak Hill, and then it occurred to me, I am one of these people. I finally get it.  This is a really, really big deal.
When I arrived at the bus, we were treated to tables full of tons of snacks, coffee, and drinks.  I grabbed a Powerade and sat with Brad and the girls on the sidewalk, and I was full of smiles.  They were shocked.  (They've never seen me smile after a long run).  I was clearly buzzed on fumes, endorphins, and caffeine, but I just couldn't stop yapping about how awesome that run was, how awesome I felt, how great my stomach felt, how great life is, how much I love everyone and everything.  Finally I got really cold and went into the bus to change, and then I grabbed a bag of Frito's.  I guzzled a Gatorade recovery shake, a bottle of regular Gatorade, and half a bottle of Coke.  There was a whole lot of liquid sloshing around in my stomach on the way back, so maybe I should have spaced it out a bit more, but who cares.  I just ran 21.25 freaking miles!

Here are a couple observations about the course:

• The downhill at the start of the marathon is so much steeper than I expected.  It's easy to see how people can start too fast in this race, and have really, really sore quads afterwards!
• Framingham is ugly.  Hopefully the crowds will be so thick on marathon day that we won't notice how ugly it is.
• I'm really looking forward to not having to run on sidewalks and yield to traffic on race day!

Now it's time to taper.  The short runs will be about the same as they have been, but there will be no more super long runs.  The weekend runs will be cut down to about 10 miles each weekend to give our bodies time to recover from all the hard training, and get rested for race day.  It will give me a chance to tend to my achy knee and very tight heel.  I'm excited for this day.  We've worked so hard all winter for it.  All systems are go for launch!


Click here to see today's run!

PS. After today's run, I went home, showered, and then stopped at the liquor store on my way to Jackie's house.  Naturally, I couldn't get out of the liquor store without telling the clerk how I just ran 21 miles and "in case you were wondering why I haven't been around much lately, it's because I'm training for the Boston Marathon".  What can I say?  It's a really, really big deal!

Oh and one more thing...
I woke up this morning to discover a little article about yours truly in the Milford Daily News!  Now I'm officially "on the record" and totally jazzed up for this race!  Just one question... what exactly are they trying to tell me?

Road Rants

Training for the Boston Marathon means that I have spent a lot of time on the roads.  I would say about 75% of the people I encounter on the roads are very respectful.  The other 25% suck the big one.  Today was one of those days where that 25% was the majority.  Once last fall I remember going out for a run right after the Patriots lost a game, and drivers were visibly crankier.  I'm not sure what was happening today, but the fact that it's late March, temps in the 30's, and there's still snow all over the place might have something to do with it.

Here's my list of things that are absolutely going to happen when you spend enough time running on the roads:

• If you are on a deserted road where there is absolutely no traffic, and you come up to a narrow bridge, there will suddenly be a car coming from each direction.  The two cars will squeeze together and you will be left trotting on the edge of the bridge like you're teetering on a balance beam.
• If you are on a quiet road where not a single car has passed you for miles, and you come up to a sharp blind corner, a car will come bombing around the corner and will have to do a very dramatic swerve to get around you.  Frequently in conjunction with a hand gesture.
• If you are running along on that nice quiet, dry road where you haven't seen any traffic for miles, and there's only one puddle and it's right in front of you, a car will come towards you and will drive as close to you as possible so that you can't run around the puddle.
• You are not obligated to run on a sidewalk; you are technically allowed to run on the street even if there is a sidewalk.  And keep in mind that when you do, certain drivers are going to "teach you a lesson" about it.
• A dog will chase you (or at least "aggressively follow" you)
• Someone will look at you with disgust when you spit on the street
• Someone will wave at you and you won't know if 1. they're just being nice, if 2. you know them, or if 3. they're using the "I can smell you from here" gesture
• Someone will speed up and swerve towards you, and you will hope a cop will be there to see it, but there won't be.

On today's run I was passed by Joe Stud driving an old fixed up sports car, revving the engine louder as he sped up passing me.  He did this while unbeknownst to him, his directional was blinking away for no reason.  Driving around with your directional on is the vehicular equivalent of walking around with your fly down.  It makes me giggle.  

So is it just in New England that we have rude drivers?  Or is it like this everywhere?