Mile by Mile- A Battle to the Finish.

DOUBT. That was the single most nagging emotion of my week leading up to the marathon.

For one thing, I’d been aggressively treating a debilitating foot injury that had me confined to crutches up to even Sunday, the night before the marathon.

For another, no matter how many times I clicked refresh on my weather browser with my eyes closed, there was no stopping the inevitable- a whopping 88 degrees predicted for Marathon Monday with no sign of any miracle cold front in sight.

To top it off, the BAA, in an extremely rare act of runner protection (aka covering their own behinds), offered a deferment for all runners registered this year that would allow them to carry their numbers over to 2013. This was an effort to keep runners off the course and out of the hospital, no doubt, on what would be some of the hottest and most difficult weather conditions the 116 year-old marathon had ever seen.

So there I was with heat, an injury, and a tempting deferment option staring me in the eye screaming for me to drop out. I could postpone and have a number next year and save myself from sun burn to boot.

But why would I ever do that? Why drop out now? Because it would be hot? Because my foot would hurt? Because my hopes of a sub 5-hour marathon would go down the drain? The answers to all those questions are SELFISH, SELFISH, SELFISH and SELFISH.

After all, despite the inevitable pain I would feel, I was cleared to run and told I would do no permanent damage to my foot in doing so. I really had no excuse other than not getting my way.

If I opted to defer, I knew there were a lot of people who would be hurt by the decision.

How about the charity for whom I raised $11,405 this year to earn my number? By carrying my number to next year, I would basically be denying them another fundraiser for 2013 should I have decided to run again (and who am I kidding? Of course I am running again next year.)

How about all the friends and family who donated to the cause on my behalf to see me succeed not only in my running but in my lofty fundraising goal? How anticlimactic would it have been for them if I quit just because it would be a little more difficult?

How about my coach, who selflessly supported me for 5 months to get me to the starting line? Could I make all his efforts in vain?

And how about myself? I worked so hard for this moment. Was I going to let the fact that I would likely not achieve my time goal get in the way of finishing?

So the decision was to run. And I did. I got taped before the race by my amazing physical therapist, Jake Kennedy, who took time out of his own marathon morning to tape each of his patients. My dad and sister saw me off at the starting line. And I was off. No turning back now.

The Run

AT THE START, my injury didn’t bother me one bit. Even though it had already reached 80 degrees by 10AM, I managed to stay relatively cool as spectators generously squirted their water hoses and offered handfuls of ice to us. The more miles I knocked off without pain, the more I thought: Wow, this might not be so bad after all…

… but that did not last.

MILE 7. 91 degrees. My injury crept up and bit me clear in the butt. It was at that point I realized that this was going to be incredibly tough. I wanted to bow out, but I thought to myself…

“If I can just make it TWO more miles to dad and Krystle [my sister], we’ll see how I feel then.”

And so I kept on. I would stuff ice cubes anywhere they would stay- in my bra, down my pants- any way I could keep cool.

MILE 9. I found my dad and sister where they fed me fresh Gatorade, oranges and a necessary reminder that Coach Rick would be waiting for me in just 6 miles. So I thought…

“6 miles. If I can make it just 6 miles to coach Rick at mile 15, we’ll see how I feel then.”

Unfortunately, the throbbing in my foot grew much worse. I reached down to get the ibuprofen in my pouch but they had all melted from the heat. And although the marathon spectators were well-instructed (see picture)…

"Aim hose here"

…the hose water had soaked my feet to the core, making them heavy to lift and unbelievably blistered (Though I did get lots of laughs from runners passing by!). I stopped on the side of the road, took off my shoes, gave my socks a good wring and kept on. There was one particular moment I felt I could not go on, until I saw a gentleman in a wheelchair being helped by guides as he pushed himself backwards little by little with his feet. He had a number on his leg and I could tell by the look on his face how incredibly exhausted and in pain he was. In that moment, tears fell from eyes and I thought, “Sheree. If he can do that. You can do this.”  And I pushed my way to the 15-mile marker.

MILE 15. Coach Rick was waiting at the side of the road for me. I was still crying, but this time from the pain. The tendonitis was unbearably painful and I couldn’t put weight on my right foot. He reassured me, “If you can make it just TWO more miles to MILE 17, you will only have single digit miles left to go.” Single digit miles. I was in a great deal of pain, but I thought…

“If I can just make it to mile 17, we’ll see how I feel then.”

So I fought on- through pain and massive amounts of doubt- and I made it to mile 17. And when I turned the corner onto Commonwealth Ave in Newton and saw the hills ahead, I paused. I noticed my fingers were swollen like sausages. And then I looked at the Medic Tent on my left. I looked again- ahead at the hills, down at my swollen fingers, and tot he left at the medic tent. And I thought to myself…

“If I can make it to the next medic tent, we’ll see how I feel then.”

MILE 18. A mile later, I came upon that next medic tent. I wanted to stop. I thought perhaps I should’ve stopped. But I was afraid. What if I stop and they tell me I can’t finish? I had no symptoms other than the swelling that would indicate hyponatremia (over-hydration).

“Are you alright?” a spectator asked as she saw me considering my options.
“Yes, thank you, I just need to pause for a moment,” I replied. I was breathless.
“Are you sure?”

I bent over in exhaustion. Just like that, it was as if on reflex, these wonderful people leapt from their lawn chairs offering me a seat as if I needed all 3 of them. They fed me pretzels, cold Gatorade, and equipped me with a GIANT bag of ice – that bag was like a saving grace to me because it kept me relatively cool for the next few miles. After resting for a few minutes, and against the wishes of those around me, I got up. I insisted. And continued on, declining the medic tent altogether and thanking the wonderful people for their help.

And instead of thinking about the unfathomable 7 miles I had left, I thought to myself…

“If I can just make it just TWO more miles to my dad and sister at mile 21, we’ll see how I feel then.”

And so I went. Along the way, I bumped into my friend Karen (side note: I don’t know what it is about the moments you see friends and family on the course, but I sobbed like a baby- out of exhaustion, out of joy, out of delirium, maybe all three). She jumped in to run with me and kept telling me how great I looked. I didn’t believe her, but somehow it was enough to keep me going. Until I reached…

MILE 20. Heartbreak Hill. Up to then, neither the heat nor my injury allowed for much in terms of stellar performance. But if there was one thing I wanted to accomplish that day, I wanted to run all the way up Heartbreak Hill; I didn’t care how badly I felt. So I ran up that hill in all of my glory, Chariots of Fire playing in my head, and when I reached my dad and sister at the top, it was the ultimate reward. I was exhausted, hurting, and HOT and despite all my thoughts about giving up and throwing in the towel, for the first time I finally thought to myself…

“If I can just make it FIVE more miles, I will see the FINISH LINE.”

The finish line. It was so close I could taste it now. Only 5.2 miles left to go. YES. I could do this.

And I did. I had been running the race alongside Ray Allen’s mom, Flo. I gave her some words of encouragement after Heartbreak Hill and she encouraged me right back. I told her I made a promise to my loved ones and to myself that I would not give up. She told me she had done the same and winked at me, “See you at the finish line.”

I spent the remaining 5.2 miles limping, trotting, counting down the mile markers. My friend Jackie even jumped in to run a couple of those last miles with me. And when I made the right onto Hereford (sobbing, again, at the sight of another unexpected friend) and the left onto Boylston, I knew what I was about to do. I was about to complete the Boston Marathon in some of the worst conditions it’d ever seen and in some of the worst pain I’d ever felt.

I made my way down Boylston Street, carried by the overwhelming encouragement from the crowd.

And I finished. It took me 6 hours 30 minutes and 43 seconds. But I finished. And I have never been more proud of myself in my whole life.

Of course there is part of me who wishes the heat and injury had never happened so I could try for my sub 5-hour marathon, but I have a feeling this 6:30:43 marathon will be one of my greatest accomplishments ever in my life. And to top all of that, I raised $11,435 for kids in need across the state of Massachusetts.

There is no shame, no disappointment, no regret to be had about that.

I did it : )

The Taper: Bittersweet End.

The Sweet Part

The taper! It’s like music to my ears. We put our long runs behind us and significantly decrease mileage in the three weeks leading up to the marathon. Now’s the time we just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride to Marathon Monday.

The Bitter Part

The taper began with a 12-mile run. Piece-o-cake, right? Unfortunately that’s the mistake we trainees often make- this mindset that 12 miles is simple, that it’s nothing compared to the 21 we did the week before. As a result, we often lose sight of form, of pace and of our senses altogether.

I can sincerely say that this did not happen to me. I was going a nice easy pace and paying attention to form more than ever… but it didn’t matter. In the last 2 miles of the run, an excruciating pain in my right foot began to take hold and never went away. I chalked it up to general fatigue at first. But when the pain did not let up into the night and the entire next day, I knew something was wrong. And I was right.

My physical therapist (Kennedy Brothers in Boston) diagnosed it as Peroneal Tendonitis, which affects the tendon that connects the bottom outside edge of my foot through the heel and to the calf. I have been going through some aggressive physical therapy over the last week and plan to continue until Marathon Monday. I’ve been taped, iced, electrically shocked, and stretched. I will do much more if necessary to get me to that starting line.

The good news: I’ve been told that I am fully ABLE to run, meaning that I will not do any permanent damage to my tendon should I decide to proceed. There is no tear and the tendon is fully in tact. The worst case scenario is that I’ll feel pain. Lots of pain. I’ve decided that that is something I can manage. It isn’t as if the marathon isn’t pain-free as it is and I still have one full week to let the foot rest.

The bad news: Sadly, I’ve decided to forgo my time goal this year. With an injury afoot (badoom chick!), a time goal is just not realistic for me. If I do finish under 5 hours like I’d hoped, I will feel truly wonderful and will take it as an added bonus. However, my only hope now is to finish in “relative comfort,” as Coach Rick would say. I just need to focus on keeping my foot stable enough to get to the finish line.

I’d be lying if I said I was ok. I’m trying to put on my happy face for everyone who has been so supportive of me over the last 5 months, but I am bummed about this untimely injury. Truly bummed. It goes without saying that I am also very thankful that it isn’t worse than it is. So my plan is simply to do my best. That is all I can do.

So to everyone who has shown me so much love and support over the last week and throughout my 5 months of training, to friends, family and readers like you: Thank you for the encouragement. Thank you for the kind words. And thank you for being there. I love you all!

I’m happy to announce that I have reached my fundraising goal and have raised a total so far of $10,616! If you would like to contribute, please visit www.razoo.com/sheree.

21 miles: Uselessly useful tips for surviving a long run.

Most of you already know that my 21-mile experience was not necessarily the greatest; it was a little more unfortunate than last year. Our team bus broke down and there were no water stops because we were late. I had no money on me to purchase reinforcements along the route, so you can probably imagine how this played out.

I had a draft written a couple of weeks ago that brought you a step-by-step account of the day, but instead, I’ve decided to tell you what I learned from all this.

Trust me on this one…

1. Deodorant should NOT to be used in lieu of body glide. It does not work. Your bum WILL chafe.
2. It is not a good idea to get your eyebrows waxed the day before a long run… you’ll understand when the sweat starts dripping down your forehead.
3. Faucet water from the bathroom hydrates just like the bottled stuff, even though it tastes like…er…faucet.
4. If you can smell yourself, odds are everyone else can, too (including the clerk at Walgreens who scrunched his nose and gave you the look of death when you asked to use the bathroom. Wait… did he just spray air freshener after I left the counter???)
5. Make sure the toilet flushes BEFORE you go. Also, be sure to prepare your toilet paper pre-squat. The less time you spend in the squat position, the less painful your bathroom experience will be.
   
   

   Avoid this stance as much as possible...

6. Apparently, magnesium citrate isn’t the only thing that can cause the Hershey squirts… see #5.
7. You are not invisible while running. If you pick a wedgie, you WILL be laughed at (also note: make sure the person behind you whilst picking said wedgie is not any of the following: sexy police officer, sexy firefighter, sexy runner, sexy shop owner, sexy cyclist, sexy guy in jeans, sexy guy with blue shirt… etc)
8. Worry not about the drivers and bikers. Instead, worry about the shoppers who absentmindedly leave shops with no regard for oncoming pedestrian traffic. (this tip multiplies in importance TENFOLD when the shop door opens in an outward direction.)
9. When that woman with the baby carriage passes you going up the hills of Newton, don’t be discouraged… honestly… don’t…
10. And when she laps you… still… don’t feel bad… at all…
11. W(h)ine is meant to be consumed by glass… not spewed out of the mouth in the opposite direction.

 

That’s all folks! Taper update soon…

Sheree

17 miles. Oh no I didn’t. (Oh yes I did.)

• 17 miles
• 3:11:52
• Number of people I waved to enthusiastically because I thought I knew them: 1
• Number of people who waved back equally enthusiastically: 1 — phew : )

The Good News! <<shouts>> Yay!

I ran about an 11:17/mi pace! I am so pleased with that! I’m right on pace to finish under 5 hours. I have managed to knock a whole minute off my average pace this year!

The Bad News… <<mumbles>> nay.

As pleased as I am about the end result, I made mistakes.

Mistake #1: The Forrest Gump.

I just kept running… when I should have taken walk breaks throughout. I ran the longest distance I have ever run without a walk break (11 miles). HOWEVER, I don’t know what got into me. I took two brief walk breaks in miles 1-3. And then it was like the heavens opened up and Forrest Gump appeared shining his light upon me. I went. And I did not stop. This was an absolute error because by the time I got to mile 15, I was done. My legs were cramping, and once that happens, it never goes away.

How to correct: I need to force myself to take walk breaks no matter how much I feel I don’t need them because when I arrive at the hills of Newton on Marathon Monday having already run 18 miles, I’m gonna wish I’d preserved my legs.

Mistake #2: The Superman. It’s a bird… it’s a plane… it’s Sheree being a bonehead.

During that 11-mile stint, I glanced at my Garmin and noted a 9:30/mi pace. Hello? <<knock’s on head>> Anyone in there? As Dr. Robert Page would say, “That is D-U-M-M, dumb.” (inside joke dedicated to my CMU classmates)

Look, a 9:30 pace is all fine and dandy, and I’m glad to know that maybe at my next half marathon I might be able to shoot for 2 hours (wow!). But I know my limits, and that pace is out of the realm of my abilities right now in the 26.2 distance. And of course at the end, I had to slow down exponentially due to cramping.

How to correct: It’s simple. Run your pace, Sheree. Run your pace. Don’t let the excitement get the best of you.

Mistake #3: The Downhill Slope.

Those downhills were fun…at first. But I am paying for it now! I should have known better. It was a combination of feeling this inexplicable high and feeling like I had something to prove to my confidence. Unfortunately, my quads were not up for the task, evidenced by the end of my run.

How to correct: Take it easy on the downhills. Use proper form. And don’t try to use the downhill to make up for lost time.

***TMI ALERT***
(TMI= too much information)

Mistake #4: The Uh-Oh. Magnesium citrate.

So… I take supplements to prevent muscle cramping. Potassium is one. Magnesium citrate is the other. However, magnesium citrate is not just used for runners’ cramps. It serves another function, as well… for constipation.

Well, I accidentally took two of these pills before my run thinking I was taking potassium, too. Let’s just say, I was in great need of a baño. My last three miles were spent limp-running because of cramps and simultaneously trying to go faster to reach a bathroom all while clenching cheeks. I went into a 7-eleven, who sent me next door to an art supply store, who sent me next door to a Dunkin Donuts. The bathroom, though available to the public, was locked and the line was far too long for me to wait for the key. Meanwhile, I’ve got swass (sweaty ass) pacing back and forth while people dressed in green sparkly outfits with face paint stare at me as if I’m the one who looks ridiculous.

So… I limped and clenched, limped and clenched the 3.5 miles all the way back to the church. It was close, but I made it. Not my proudest moment. But of all the lessons that can be learned from this post, I hope you learn from this one. Stay away from the magnesium citrate.

Overall…

…despite my mistakes, I am really happy with my end result. The way I see it is, if I can finish under goal pace WITH all of these flubs, imagine what I might be able to achieve if I correct them. I am hopeful. And I am ready! : )

15 miles. Staying in the moment.

• 15 miles
• 2:40:34
•  : )

I recently read a great blog entry by my coach, Rick Muhr, in which he talks about staying in the moment on a long run. I’ve never been able to do this, mostly because I am always thinking about how much further I have to go, when I will get to take my next walk break, etc. I am always thinking ahead.

I realized that this kind of thinking, in fact, can make you far more miserable on a run. If your brain is constantly consumed by what’s coming next, it’s a sort of anxiety that really must deplete resources. Think about how exhausted you feel after you’ve been in a panicked state. I imagine that whatever worried thinking I’ve done on a run can only do the same thing.

Since I’ve been pretty concerned about my training history over the last month (SLACKER), I decided that this week I would make an effort to stay in the moment and not worry about the future, whether it be 1 mile ahead or 1 month ahead. Coach advised me to do 15 miles this week with the following two weeks being 19 and 21 before the taper. So I left the headphones at home, I drove to the best place I could think of to have a clear head (the beach), and I ran.

The first 3 miles were torture, I have to admit. No headphones and left to my own devices, I was having a really difficult time not thinking about the future. Where do I have to turn around? How much longer until I am done?  What am I going to eat for dinner next Thursday????? Clearly, I did not get the memo on how to stay in the moment.

By the time I got to mile 3, though, my breathing became less labored and more natural. I made adjustments to my posture. My legs felt lighter. I’d gotten into my groove and all thoughts of future meal plans and how many miles until my next oil change were gone. I listened to the waves. I listened to other beach-goers. I watched others walk and felt comforted and proud to know that I CAN run. I AM running. And it is amazing to be where I am NOW in this moment. Mile after mile got clocked on my watch without my even being aware. Before I knew it, I was 10 miles in with 5 to go… feeling GREAT.

My last few miles were tough. I think in all my in-the-moment-ness, I might have been going a little too fast and my last few miles suffered as a result. Nevertheless, I PR’d. I ran 15 miles in 2:40:34, which is faster than my last half marathon.

Sub 5-hour marathon? A dream that is more and more becoming a reality

: )

In other news, I practiced being in the moment yet again by auditioning for The Voice this past weekend! I sang this song:

Unfortunately, I did not get called back, however the producer told me I came very close but I was not quite confident enough. She told me to try again in a couple months… so, I will : )

If you would like to support my efforts to raise $10,000 for kids in need, visit:

I truly appreciate anything you can spare! 60% there : )

< —– SLACKER.

I’m a slacker. I am behind on my blog posts by about three weeks. And I am behind in my marathon training by about 2 weeks and 6 days.

In order to face my slackery head on, I’ve decided to write it all out for the world (aka the three people who read this blog) to see. That said, I’ve really only got one running story for you in this entire blog. You can find it in the section labeled “VACATION”. Ironically enough.

THE SLACKERY

On February 18, 2012, I ran 17 miles. It actually ended up being 18. It went alright. I averaged an 11:30 pace AND had negative splits. For those of you who are wondering, negative splits are when the second half of a run is as fast as or faster than the first half. I was really delighted about this!!

And then… life happened.

2/19: I got sick. Again. Tonsils the size of melons. Doc said it was “viral” which is code for: F**K I have no antibiotics.
2/20: Still sick. Tonsils so swollen I can’t breathe properly. Not good for running.
2/21: … And it’s getting progressively worse.
2/22: Back to the doctor AGAIN. Two visits and two co-pays later, I discover that, in fact, my uvula (little ball hangy thing) was infected and that doc #1 should have prescribed me antibiotics. On top of that, an hour and a half drive to Providence for  rehearsal left me ZERO time to pick up my meds at the pharmacy.
2/23: Spent my lunch hour getting prescription filled so that I could be well enough for my evening gig in Boston. (For those readers who aren’t aware, I am a singer!)
2/24: Drove to Vermont to see a dear friend from college in a performance. After traffic and a surprise snow storm (thanks Weather Channel?) it took my 4 hours to make a 2 hour drive. Both ways. Did not get home until 3:30am. Awesome.
2/25: Should have been an 18-miler. But on 4 hours of sleep while being sick, I decided to shut my alarm off and get rest. Not to mention, I had a wedding to perform on the Cape that day. I can’t get “a little bit softer now” if my legs are too sore.
2/26: Flight to California. Run 18 miles before I get on a plane? Nope.

VACATION

I managed to squeeze in one 12-mile run along the sunny beaches of California. It was during that time which I was followed and creeped on by a random jogger. He came out of nowhere when he appeared at my side proclaiming “I am a pro boxer!” before offering me a personal massage at his house. When he asked for my number, I told him that I had to go take a poo in the port-a-potty. He ran ahead.

So there you have it. I have slacked. And this coming weekend is supposed to be 19 miles, my second-to-last long run before we taper. I would be lying if I said I were confident… but I am going for it anyway. I’ve gotten quite a few comforting opinions from seasoned runners and experienced marathoners who’ve said it really won’t make that much of a difference as far as my preparedness. If they are wrong, then I know where they live.

So, I’ve got no running stories for you today. But, enjoy some of my photos of Napa : ) Because my next blog post might not be too pretty…

Beautiful French oak fermentation tanks at Clos Pegase winery.

Deep Sea Winery in Santa Barbara. Tasting room overlooked the ocean in the open air.

Champagne tasting at Domaine Carneros Winery. Delicious!

Leaving Napa on Day 1.

Entering Napa.

Peju Winery was absolutely gorgeous.

The walls of Prager were covered in dollar bills. Great ports here.

Raymond Winery had some really cool things going on.

I found my birth year on the wall of vintages at Raymond Winery. (But…it’s backwards)

Wine tasting in Santa Barbara.

Sea lions while on a harbor cruise!

My sister, Krystle (right), Jesse, and me (left)

RIP Whitney Houston

RIP Whitney Houston- My tribute

I would be remiss if I did not honor the memory of Whitney Houston in this forum. As an aspiring singer, I have been quite influenced by her beautifully effortless voice. I have listened to her voice since childhood, wondering how it could ever be possible for me to make it sound so easy. I will be thinking of her on my 17-mile run tomorrow morning. I hope I have done her proud in this song. <3

16 miles. How to keep running when you feel like stopping.

• 16 miles
• 3:07:45

This Is How We Do It!

When I tell people that I am running um-teen miles on Saturday morning, they look at me like I am nuts. I get asked the same question without fail. “Sheree, how do you get through it?”

If I said it were easy, I’d be telling a big fat lie. It isn’t easy. It’s really hard, actually. But, as Coach Rick says, if it were easy, everyone would be running marathons.

It doesn’t need to be easy. It just needs to be POSSIBLE. You know how the saying goes: if I can do it, anyone can. Well I can assure you, I am not just blowing smoke up your behind. I completed a marathon last year as a beginner runner whose longest distance run before training was 3 miles.

What got me to that finish line last year was not my fitness. I was physically dunzo by mile 20. It was my mind that got me to the finish line. Mental strength, to me, is so much more important than the physical. And as someone who isn’t the most experienced of runners, I need to sometimes trick my mind into letting my body do what I want it to do. So I’m going to let you in on a few of my little secrets. And if you’ve ever set out on a run and wanted to give up– 5K, 10K, whatever!– I urge you to try them! You will see that running can be fun if you can get through that mental barrier!

Musical Chairs Miles

Here is a little game I play with myself on a long run, especially when the going gets really tough. I use my music to set small goals. A couple examples:

• “I will not stop until I have listened to 3 more songs.” Using this method, 3 songs could easily last for 9-12 minutes. That is about a mile you have just convinced yourself to run while having some awesome music to entertain yourself. If 3 songs seems long, do it one song at a time. I constantly say “just one more song.”
• “I am going to run through the verses and walk through the choruses up this next hill.” I do this one ALL THE TIME. Before I ascend a hill, I designate a pattern and stick to it up the entire hill. Maybe it’s walk 8 counts, run 8 counts. Maybe it’s walk through all the guitar solos and run whenever the singer comes in. By breaking it up, you keep your mind affixed to this “game” instead of how difficult this hill is.

Tick Tock

This is the game Kate and I played on Saturday for our 16 mile run. We planned to run 9 minutes and walk 1 minute the entire way. But making adjustments as you go is important (AND FUN) to keep the run feeling fresh.

• At the end of our 9 minutes, we reached a downhill section. Now, it seems a waste to spend a walk break on a downhill, doesn’t it? So we extended our run to enjoy the downhill and deducted that extra time from our next run section. By doing this, you find yourself looking forward to the next time you run because now, instead of 9 minutes, you will only be running 7 minutes before your next walk break.
• We walked on the 4′s. For example, 14 minutes, 24 minutes, 34 minutes, etc. Here’s where the game came in: there are situations that will set you off of that schedule like pee breaks, hills, wedgies to pick… So once you are off that schedule of 4′s, spend the next few run sections trying to get back to it (running an extra minute here and there). In doing that, you will spend at least 20 minutes playing this game of “catch up”– it’s a great distraction!

Promises, Promises

Make yourself promises while on your run. And look forward to keeping them.

• I will not sip my Gatorade until I have finished this mile.
• I will allow myself a piece of licorice once I reach mile 6.
• I am going to stop in that Dunkin Donuts at mile 9 and buy some munchkins. **A MUST TRY** : )
• When I finish, I get to drink that chocolate milk. (YUM!)

So there you have it. I have more games and things that I think I will continue to integrate into my weekly blogs. But this should be more than enough games to get you through some runs for a while. Go try them out! And tell me how you do : )

P.S. More than 50% to my goal… For anyone who donates at least $26, I will perform a dare of their choosing and document on video. This offer is extended to only the first 26 people who do this…

15 miles. Personal Awesome-est.

• 15 miles
• 2:42:05
• wait… 2:42:05????
• 2:42:05!!!!!!!!!
• pee stops: 1 (at my favorite Dunkin Donuts… had to get some chocolate munchkins, too!)
• My new thing: I smile at every single runner I pass. Keeps the good energy flowing : )

The Run

I was on my own this week. And that scared me. I hadn’t done a long run alone since the single digits- which is now nothing in comparison. <<Pauses to chuckle to self>> I was worried that I would give in to negative thoughts; but I nipped those worries in the bud by giving myself permission. “If you need to walk, then walk,” I told myself. And I did just that.

I was in a lot of pain in the beginning. I hadn’t hydrated well enough the night before and it became evident when just 1 mile in I began to feel dry mouth and foamy saliva. Normally, I down at least a half gallon of water just before bed on the night before a long run along with potassium and magnesium supplements for cramp prevention. Unfortunately, I fell asleep before I was able to do so. Insert dry mouth. Insert pain. I was worried how I’d make it through.

But I started the run, nonetheless, by running 9 minutes and walking 1 minute, hoping hydration would miraculously fall upon me. I wanted to simulate what I would do during the marathon (the water stops are at every mile marker on that day), and I managed to keep that schedule through 8 miles of the run. It was around mile 8 that we approached the dreaded hills of Newton. I consequently had to allow myself to walk more frequently at this point. In fact, I found that I was walking the hills more than running them. By mile 9, I was essentially walking the uphill and cruising the downhill and flat terrain.

Now, last year I accepted this. I walked more than I ran on the hills in order to survive the rest of the run. But THIS year? Something wasn’t settling with me as I approached the water stop at mile 1o. I knew I was much stronger than this. I knew I was much better conditioned than this. I knew I could overcome this battle with the hills. So I came up with a plan. In my last 5 miles on these hills, I would run to the beat of the music on my Pandora playlist. 8 counts running. 8 counts walking. On every uphill. So there I am listening to Dynamite by Taio Cruz:

Run…
“I throw my hands up in the air sometime…”

Walk…
“Saying heyyy oh, gotta let go!!”

Run…
“I wanna celebrate and live my life…”

Walk…
“Saying heyyyy oh, baby let’s go!!”

Cruising the downhills and flats, before I knew it, I had completed 4 miles through tough hills and I was at my final water stop saying hello to the staff of MMP. I had 1 mile to go and was as energized as ever. I made it back to the church in 2 hours 42 minutes and 05 seconds, which clocks me at an average of 10:48/mi. A personal best awesome-est. I had tears of joy in my eyes. And to think, this was with walk breaks! I could not be prouder of this moment… and here’s a big reason why:

Might I accomplish my goal?

I don’t like to take these calculators too seriously. After all, I know at the end of the day it will be the work I put in on April 16th that matters. However, last year I ran this distance in 3hrs 07mins… and had an IMPROVED pace in the full marathon. I can’t help but to be hopeful that these dreams might come true for me. I could possibly hit my time goal of a sub-5hr marathon. The very thought fills me with the utmost pride : )

14 (and a half) miles: A bunch o’ munchkins and a hint of splint.

• 14.5 miles
• 3 hours 1 minute
• Dog poop count: 1 (I may or may not have stepped in it.)

The Run

TOUGH run. Kate and I had each been battling illness for nearly a month and were making a crazy leap from 11 miles to 14, with little training in between. We knew this would be difficult.

Positive thinking was the only way I could survive this, and I knew it. I kept repeating phrases aloud, for Kate and for me.

“It’s only the first 6 miles that are tough. Once we do 6, we’ll be warm.”
“Once we reach Heartbreak Hill, we’re halfway done.”
“We’ve done these hills before.”
“We can take a walk break at the next water stop!”
“Only one more hour to go.”
“Breathe!”
“In 14 miles we get to drink chocolate milk!”

Turns out these thoughts were integral to my success on Saturday. Especially when toward the end of the run I began to feel little pings of shin splints coming on. I won’t read too much into it though. Surprisingly enough, I did not get sore at all following this run. I find that a sign of strength!

It goes without saying that our lovely stop at Dunkin Donuts to go potty was a nice boost as well. Gotta love munchkins ; )