Khaki Shorts

I’m back from Boston and happy to report that I survived another marathon! I limped through my work day on Wednesday and I have a few toenails that are not long for this world, but other than that I made it out in one piece. 

I finished the race in 3:25--a time I am satisfied with. It was not an overall PR for me, but it was a PR for Boston by 22 minutes. Because the last time I ran Boston in 2012 it was a solid 80-something degrees, I felt like I had a skewed perspective of the race course. I thought that it seemed really hard then, but looking back I thought that maybe my memory of the heat made it seem worse than it truly was. Now that I’ve run it in 2016 I can honestly report that, yep, it’s a really hard course. Boston is truly a beast of a race.

(Finally done! Love my cheering squad.) 

Here’s how it went for me...

I was very lucky to be able to stay with my cousin/BFF and her husband at their apartment in downtown Boston all week. On race day I woke up around 5am and John and I walked from the apartment to the bus pickup in Boston Commons around 6:15. It was a nice, pleasant walk, with the sun just starting to light up the city around us, but when I saw those buses damn I was nervous! Hugging John goodbye, I actually teared up a little because I was scared of what was to come. 

I rode on the bus to Hopkinton with lots of other runners, all of us giddy with nerves despite the early hour. The girl sitting next to me was pretty quiet, so after a while I stopped asking her questions and watched a drama unfold in the seat across from me. A man was at his wits end about having to go to the bathroom. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and he poured his Gatorade into a mug so that he could pee into his Gatorade bottle. Exciting stuff. 

When we arrived in Hopkinton, the Athlete’s Village was hopping. Naturally, I went straight for a Johnny-On-The-Spot line (I wasn’t about to pee into any sort of plastic bottle, no sir...) and that’s when I realized that it really wasn’t cold outside at all. Not a good sign. 

(Arriving all fresh and shiny in Hopkinton. Ready to go!) 

I found a dry bit of dirt to sit on in the Athlete’s Village, so I just took a seat and watched a parade of absurdly outfitted athletes move by. Because of increased security measures after the 2013 bombing, runners can no longer check their bags in the Village. Therefore, all clothes brought in had to be donated. As a result, runners were clad in all kinds of Goodwill paraphernalia. I saw people wearing flannel pajamas, an awesome, turquoise, silk “Australia” jacket complete with marsupial themed patches, a man in just a speedo and several full length bathrobes. Quite the show. 

After making small talk and standing in bathroom lines for a good two hours, my wave was called to the starting line. There’s truly nothing like the starting line of a marathon. It’s the intersection of dreams about to become reality and imminent pain. I felt both calm and impatient. There was no room here for the screaming nerves I’d felt the night before. It was now or never, so help me, God. 

The first 16 miles or so of The Boston Marathon are generally downhill. How lucky! Most people say, must be an easy course. Ha. Those downhills are actually a wolf in sheep’s clothing (But since I’m a Carnivore Keeper the wolf probably shouldn’t be the bad guy. A poacher dressed as a rhino? Does that work?). They truly take their toll on a runner’s muscles and ligaments, which Boston marathoners pay for in the latter half of the race and the next day. 

Honestly, though, those first miles most closely resemble a cattle drive. There are a lot of runners on the road to Boston (26,000 this year!) and people are packed in quite tightly, forcing you to run a slow and even speed (which is a blessing later in the race). So, for me, those first 4-5 miles flew by in a sunshine-y, cheerful, please don’t let me step on anyone’s heels, blissful pace. There’s a lot of high-fiving little kids during this portion of the race. Spoiler Alert: During hours two and three I did not want to waste the energy it would take to give any high-fives. 

I enjoyed seeing the signs people held up on the sides of the racecourse. Some favorites included: If Trump Can Run, So Can You! and All Toenails Go to Heaven. 

Around miles 7-10 things got rough. You see, it was hot out there. Certainly 70-plus degrees, a nice temp for spectating a marathon, but much too warm for running it. My start time was at 10:25 am, so we were running with the sun straight overhead in the heat of the day (and I have the fried shoulders to prove it!). I started to get very thirsty and that old adage, if you feel thirsty you’re already dehydrated, began to run through my head. I am terrible at drinking water and running at the same time. Usually at the GO! marathon I grab a cup and then speed walk a few steps while I gulp it down. Boston was so crowded though, I felt like if I slowed to drink (at least during this portion) I’d cause a pile-up, so I was only able to choke down a few sips at each station. I could feel my body temperature rising. I remembered how hard it had been in 2012 in the heat and I began to fear the next 16 miles. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. I thought. I was beginning to “lose my head” a bit, as in become so dehydrated that I was unable to really focus, feeling like my head was floating above me. I ate some jelly beans to try to get my blood sugar up and ended up with this lovely picture...

(Yep, those are jelly beans stuffed in my cheek. Attractive.)

Just when I was teetering on the edge of marathon despair, we entered the Wellesley area. Here, there was shade and a breeze kicked up. Wellesley is a famous stretch of the race because a large number of the school’s female student body typically line the course and scream at the top of their lungs creating a “tunnel of sound.” The girls request kisses for a variety of reasons i.e. Kiss Me I’m Irish, Kiss Me I’m A Senior, Kiss Me I’m Fun-Sized etc. and the signs work! Several people stopped to give them a kiss. The cooler stretch and the entertainment of the tunnel of sound really helped me here. I was able to get back into my music and get my head back into the race. I got my pace back and my confidence improved. 

There was a man running near me for a while who wrote “Dad” on his bib number. So, for several miles people kept saying “Go Dad!” “You got it Dad!” “Keep it up Dad!” over and over again, which made me laugh. 

(The Wellesley Tunnel of Sound gave me a bit of a boost.)

Feeling a bit better, I enjoyed the block parties, music and spectacle of the day. The spectators in Boston are simply the best. Everyone is handing out orange slices, ice and cups of water all along the route. Even though the last thing I’d rather do during a marathon is eat a piece of licorice, people were kind enough to offer twizzlers and other candies too (who knows, maybe that’s someone’s thing...). 

(Feeling good and determined.)

I hit 13.1 at about 1:39 and was feeling pretty happy with that as we raced on, eventually crossing over the highway and climbing a bit of a hill before reaching the really hilly section between miles 17-20. The Newton Hills. This is what makes Boston such a little bitch (as my cousin, Mary, said I repeatedly called it immediately after the race). The course likes to throw you downhill at a much too fast pace for 16 miles, giving your ligaments a solid flogging before throwing three huge hills at you virtually destroying what’s left of your legs and then expects you to run six more miles into town. Real cool. 

I got pretty confused during this portion. I remember reading It’s better to pass people than to get passed on the Newton Hills, so when we ran up the first hill I tried to pass as many people as possible. I definitely did not stop running. However, since the area approaching the three big hills is quite hilly, I wasn’t sure which hill we were on when we ran the first one. “This is Heartbreak Hill, right?” I asked a spectator. (Editor’s Note: Heartbreak Hill is where dreams go to die.) “No, it’s still up ahead?” the guy said, with something like pity in his eyes. Damn. 

(The worst.)

Suffice it to say, I didn’t stop running on the second and third hill either, but I was going pretty slow. My legs felt like they were turning to cement. There was one girl ahead of me dressed as Wonder Woman who kept patting runners who were walking on the shoulder and telling them “you can do it!” as she went by them. I made sure to pass her. 

By the time I’d made it through the hills I felt pretty much just like I did in 2012. I knew there were only 6 miles left in the race and I wanted to gun it, but I just couldn’t go any faster. Boston did her pretty, little job on my legs and they didn’t really work any more. I remember thinking if only I’d trained more, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much, or if only I’d had more water to drink early in the race...who knows. All I know is that by the time I reached mile 21 I hurt. 

I did see my family here though, which gave me a bit of a boost. My cousin, Mary, texted some friends who were a mile up the road and told them to cheer for me, so when I reached mile 22 there was a big group jumping up and down and shouting my name. I had no clue who they were but it was really fun and helpful! This section is where the crowds go from consistently packed to madhouse levels--and they stay that way, only increasing in numbers, all the way to Boylston Street. Unfortunately, it was hard for me to enjoy the cheering because at this point I just wanted the race to be done. I was hot, dehydrated and every part of my legs hurt. 

Mile 23 was when I’d say “the wheels fell off.” My pace decreased to about 8:30-8:40 minute miles. I was happy that I stayed under 9:00, but this was still far slower than my goal pace. It’s funny now that I’m on the other side to reminisce about the doomsday prophecies of the marathoner at mile 23. I’d most certainly lost my head at this point and all of my thoughts were colored in a dramatic haze. I won’t make it, I thought. I’m going to have to stop. All of those 6am wake ups on my “Saturday” mornings, all of those rain drenched runs were for nothing, because I’m not going to finish this race or if I do I’m going to have to crawl to the finish line because MY LEGS NO LONGER WORK! 

(REALLY feeling it at mile 23.) 

At this point sweat was coating my iPod, and since it is a touch screen I wasn’t able to switch the songs. Fortunately, it somehow got stuck on The Killers, All These Things That I’ve Done, on repeat, which worked for me. I realize my iPod is an inanimate object, but sometimes I think it knows just what I need. 

For the last three miles of the race I had to resort to the marathoners stand by trick for survival. I simply told myself Just run one more half mile, get to 23.5, then get to 24, get to 24.5 get to Hereford, get to Boylston...and it worked, I survived each half mile without grace or glory but enough to keep moving forward toward the finish. 

(Seeing the giant Citgo sign during the Boston Marathon is supposed to tell runners “Almost Home!” Unfortunately, it brought little relief to me because it is NOT the finish!)

The Boston Marathon only includes a few turns, and most of them are downtown. Turning right on Hereford brought me little relief. My legs were beyond aching and exhausted. But that left on Boylston, the final stretch, gave me a boost. It’s so amazing and frustrating to know that there is always something left in the tank! ! 

Boylston is a long, wide, open street and the crowds were roaring! I took my headphones off here so I could truly appreciate the spectacle of the race (even through my marathoner’s dehydrated haze) and I opened up my stride for the finish. Never have I ever seen such a beautiful, blue stripe of paint! 

(Going for it in the final stretch on Boylston!)

Crossing the Finish Line brought happiness, sure, but finish lines are complicated places. Yes, there is relief, and joy at the accomplishment and the culmination of so much hard work and so many miles, but it’s not like it just washes away all of the pain either. It’s a crossroads of sorts. I felt so happy to have finished and to get to stop running, but damn my legs were killing me! Fortunately, runners have their comrades around them, and we were all in the same boat, commiserating in our joy and agony together. 

(Finish Line! You’ll notice I’m not wearing my headphones in the above picture, but I have them on here...yet I have no recollection of putting them back on at all. Ah, finish lines are hazy places after a hot, long race.)

After crossing the Finish, I filed through a chute with the other runners and was given water, snacks and a heat blanket. Here’s where I have to mention the volunteers. The volunteers at the Boston Marathon are simply incredible. Every one of them, from those handing out numbers at the Expo, to those herding us onto buses so early in the morning, those giving out water and Gatorade along the course or greeting runners at the Finish Line were just exceptionally nice. I probably asked them questions that they’d been asked two million times already that day (I have no idea what that’s like...) yet they always answered me with a smile. Their kindness and the happiness they shared with runners at the Finish was just so appreciated at such an emotional moment. They represent their city well. 

(Did it!) 

In the days leading up to the race, I checked the weather forecast obsessively, dread steadily growing as I watched the predicted temperature creep up and up. “It’s going to be in the seventies,” I told my family, warily. “That’s fine,” my dad said. “You ran it when the temps were in the eighties last time. No big deal.”

My dad was being nice, but it frustrated me because I knew that he really didn’t understand. Yes, I’d run the Boston Marathon with temperatures in the eighties. But that was four years ago. This was a different race. I’m a different person, and a different runner, than I was in 2012. The thing that my dad didn’t know (because he’s a good, sweet dad who believes his daughters can do anything) is that you really can’t take 26.2 miles for granted. Especially in Boston. You never know if you can finish that many miles. Every race is a new journey where failure is a real risk. 

This year’s Boston was a special one. Not only was it the 120th anniversary, but the city also celebrated 50 years of women running the race. (Note: I did not say legally running the race...). In 1966, when my mother was 11 years old, so, yes, just ONE generation from me, it was thought that women were not physically capable of running 26.2 miles. Ever. That was until Bobbi Gibb snuck onto the road into Boston hiding behind the hood of her sweatshirt and ran those marathon miles in 3:21. 

(Bobbi Gibb in 1966, finishing Boston wearing a one piece bathing suit and surfer shorts. Thank God we now have companies DEDICATED to women’s running apparel!) 

The next year, in 1967, Kathrine Switzer registered under her initials K.V. Switzer and became the first woman to run the race with an actual race bib and number, resulting in this historic picture below:

(The man in the suit jacket is race official trying to pull Kathrine Switzer off of the race course.)

Still, women did not “legally” run in the Boston Marathon until 1972--when my own mother was in high school! In 2016 there were 12,168 female runners and the first place finisher, Ethiopian, Atsede Baysa, finished the race in 2:29:19. To put that into perspective, that is running 26.2 miles at a 5:40 minute/mile pace. And fifty years ago it was thought that women could not even finish! 

(Atsede Baysa claims victory!)

The Boston Marathon really is a beast. There’s always some sort of risk in attempting this distance. But I had the opportunity to run it, along with 12,168 other women, and so I ran, and I finished it the very best that I could. I don’t want to say I feel “lucky” as a woman to be given the opportunity to race. We should have always had the opportunity, even before 1966. I guess I just want to say that I’m glad for the experience, and that I was able to challenge myself, and I hope that at least that final push along Boylston represented my gender well. 

I do, however, feel very lucky to have had the means to be able to go to Boston, and for that I have to thank those that pushed me to qualify in 2015, my cousins, Katie and Mary who welcomed me to the city, John who has always made me a better, faster, smarter runner, my parents for coming to cheer me along and believing in me, my friends and family supporting me from home and Chase Sapphire for their excellent travel point/rewards program. 

We celebrated with lobster and wine the night of the race--sunburnt, tired and happy. And just like that, my brain immediately started covering up the pain of the day with the excitement afterward and I began to set my sights on next year’s Boston Marathon...hopefully this time with John!

All in all the day was a success. The Boston Marathon is both a challenge and a celebration of a city, and an athletic feat that I will happily attempt as long as my feet are able. Because, as the city’s residents proudly proclaim every Patriot’s Day, there are lots of marathons, but there’s only one Boston. 

Here are my stats from the race:

I ran 15 miles this morning, so that’s a wrap for marathon training 2016! 

The theme song of this year has to be this little diddy, as I think I ran maybe three long runs where I didn’t get dumped on. That’s Spring for you, I guess. 

(My hair was an impossible rat’s nest after an 18-miler in torrential rain.) 

Overall, it was a good season. Despite the less than stellar weather conditions, I was fairly happy with my long runs and I’ve mostly kept injuries at bay.

The best part about training for a Spring marathon is watching the park come alive. It’s fun to conclude the season with green grass, blossoming trees and  colorful flowers, when it started what feels like ages ago in the dead of winter. 

(Trying to motivate myself with Jen Sincero’s You Are A Badass on a cold, snowy, long run.) 

(BUT Forest Park is a beauteous place right now!)

(A few more scenes from the running path, because this truly has been a lovely Spring.)

To sum up marathon training 2016, I’d like to pay tribute to some of the handy people, places and things that have really helped me along through these last few months.

 Maybe a few of you runners out there might find this little list useful. Without further ado...

The Heroes of Marathon Training 2016:

1. The Forest Park Visitor’s Center

The Forest Park Visitor’s Center is, oh how do I say this, AWESOME. You might know the place as an excellent wedding reception venue, or perhaps the spot to meet your Segway tour of the Park, but did you know that Mon-Fri it is open 6am-8pm daily and it is there for the use of runners’ and other park goers’ convenience??!?! That’s right, you need a clean, flushable toilet? Visitor’s Center. A drink from a clean, cold water fountain? Visitor’s Center! An air conditioned or heated (depending on the season) place to stretch post run? Visitor’s Center!!! I’ll tell you, on many a chilly, wet, rainy run, this place has beckoned itself before me like a dry, pleasant oasis...with fully functioning bathrooms to boot! 

2. My Garmin Watch

(This is a huge picture of a watch. Mine looks like this, and it’s about that big too. I’ve heard the kids are getting much cooler and sleeker versions nowadays though...)

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don't know how anyone trains for a marathon without a Garmin watch. Mine is a gargantuan, green beauty and I’ve had it for NINE YEARS! Seriously! I got it pre-little maps on your phone that show you where you are at all times era. Pre-Smartphone era, really! So, I remember being amazed that it could tell me how many miles I’d run. It also tells me things like, the time, pace, calories burned, sunrise/sunset, average pace, and on and on. And even after almost a decade of use it still functions really well. This year, one of the straps broke, but it turns out you can just order a replacement online for like $12! Good as new and ready for Boston!

3. Fall Out Boy Remixes

I wouldn’t say I’m a big Fall Out Boy fan or anything, but for some reason these two songs have been my go to this year. I can’t say what it is about them, but I’m not gonna question something that really helps to push me through mile 20...

4. Stretch U

I stumbled upon this one by way of a lucky Groupon back in January. The Groupon advertised it as a place that would, well, stretch you, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. My biggest trial in marathon training has always been tight IT bands, so I was determined to stay on top of stretching and foam rolling this year so that my knees wouldn’t succumb to the same old pain. Basically, if you go to Stretch U you pay someone to stretch you and roll you out for 30 minutes at $15 a pop. Is it fun? No, I hate stretching. But my IT bands are in better shape now than they’ve ever been at this point in marathon training, so something seems to be working here. I bought an 8 week package and even plan to use some to recover after the race! BONUS: There’s a running store right next door to this place, so I always stock up on gels, beans and Runner’s World after my session.

5. My Old School Headphones 

(These are the headphones I wear on every run. No, I’m not cool.)

First of all, let me just say I know real runners don’t listen to music or wear headphones when they run, but I’m actually a field hockey player in disguise, that is, I’m not a real runner, so I don’t care. 

My headphones are stupid looking. I know this. They’re big and they hook over my ears with a band that wraps around the back of my neck like dental head gear. But seriously, I love them. I have worn this style of headphones since my first marathon in 2010. When that first pair deteriorated 5 years later, I bought another two pairs on Amazon because I was afraid Sony would stop making them. Why do I love them so much? Because I hate earbuds. They hurt my ears, and after three hours of running they really hurt my ears and the sound quality sucks. I know, I know, you’ll want to tell me Try Yurbuds, or Whosebuds, or Whatthebuds...but I don’t care. They all suck. You get no bass, ya’ll! And one cannot listen to Ruff Ryder’s Anthem without bass!

So, there you have it! A few of my favorite running related things.

Now it’s just time to taper and chug the tart cherry juice. T-minus one week until I leave for Boston! 

I’m excited and ready to run bold! 

Good luck to all the runners in the GO! this weekend! 

Well, it’s the end of February so, naturally,  it’s back to the grind. 

(This is what I imagine my running route looks like?)

That’s right, marathon training is in full swing! Somehow I’ve managed to coerce myself into spending five of the last seven winters clocking miles through a frozen Forest Park. 

John and I are both knee deep in it now, with April marathons hovering on the horizon. 

So, how’s it going so far?

Well, pretty good. The longest run I’ve completed this year was 18 miles, and that was last week. I’m at that point in the training where two or three days after the long run I CANNOT BE SATiSFIED. Seriously, I am always hungry. The challenge is finding healthy snacks to fill up on when obviously chocolate valentine brownies are a much more efficient means of replacing calories. 

What have the highs and lows been of marathon training 2016?

My lowest point was a 12 mile run about a month ago. Mother Nature was being a bit nasty to me that week, but I decided to ignore that fact and try to get my long run in anyway. It was a sunny day in the 40s--not bad for January--so I opted to give it a go. I ran 6 miles and didn’t feel great but thought, eh, I can slog through another lap. About 8 miles in I hit the wall. HARD. My blood sugar dropped enough for the ground to do that tilt-a-whirly thing whenever I started running. So, I walked. However, at this point I was about 3-4 miles from home and I was dressed for running in sunny, 40 degree weather,  not dressed for walking, so I got very cold. By the time I made it back to my apartment I literally wasn’t sure if I could get myself in the door because my hands did not seem capable of turning the key. If you’ve never felt the sensation of your brain being incapable of communicating with your muscles I will tell you it’s lots of fun! (That’s sarcasm there, people). But I survived, even though I spent the rest of that evening in a lot of pain. That was my low.

The high point so far was probably the 18 miler last week. It snowed the night before and my first lap of the park the path had not even been cleared yet! I kept passing the snow plow and by the time I was on my third lap, the asphalt was exposed and I was able to go much faster. There’s something that just feels a little badass about running 18 miles on an icy morning. It got me excited for the race!

(I’ve been listening to this audio book while running because it’s fun to look down at my iPod and see it say You are a Badass. I’m being 100% serious about that.) 

At this point in my running hobby, a long run is more about mental toughness and pain management than it is about any sort of cardio stamina. When you’re running in a cold park, alone, for hours on end you have a lot of time to think.

Last week, during my laps, I started thinking about how one of my goals for 2016 should be to live in the moment. I see it with my animals every day. When their bellies are full and they have a fluffy bed of straw to lay on, they are happy and content. They’re not living in the past or the future, they’re just enjoying being right where they are. 

I truly struggle with this. I feel like I pass all of my days daydreaming about things I did in the past or things I imagine for the future.

In running I do this as well. When you are on a long run, it’s so hard not to imagine how many miles still lay before you and what those miles are going to feel like. My knee kinda hurts right now, I might think. I wonder how much it’s going to hurt when I get to 13 miles? What about 19? Will I even be able to make it?  I think about the miles I’ve already run as well. I’ve run 7 already, how can I possibly run 10 more?! 

It’s difficult, but necessary, to stay in that very moment and mile of a long run. I remind myself to focus on how I feel in each individual minute. I keep track of how my body is feeling--sore muscles, aching knees, tight hips, blisters etc., but also the scenery and sensations around me--the birds, the plants, the feel of the wind or sun, my fellow runners and cyclists. 

But it’s not easy. I often find my mind floating to the past or escaping to the future. I read a quote once that said depressed people are stuck in the past and anxious people are stuck in the future. Content people know how to be in the present. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be one of the content ones! 

Running is such a perfect analogy for life, particularly for living in the moment. So, that is my goal for this marathon season--to practice being content and taking stock of each individual moment rather than agonizing or developing anxiety about the future or past. 

One of my favorite writing books is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. In it, Lamott tells the following story: 

Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write. It was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my  brother's shoulder, and said, 'Bird by bird, buddy.  Just take it bird by bird.’

I used to use this philosophy as sort of a joke (even though I was actually totally serious) when I worked in the Children’s Zoo. While we were preparing for the summer show season, we often spent entire afternoons training owls, parrots, hornbills etc. etc...Needless to say, it was a lot and it could be quite stressful at times. 

Any time things felt like they were getting out of hand I’d simply repeat Lamott’s mantra to myself and others. Bird by bird, people, bird by bird. 

In that case, I meant it literally. But, honestly, I try to take this little philosophy to heart in a lot of areas of my life, particularly with marathon training. 

Sometimes, I feel a bit immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. 

When it’s cold, when I’m feeling anxious about the long runs or worrying about IT band pain, I just have to tell myself Mile by mile, buddy. Just take it mile by mile. 

Every season of marathon training truly feels like a journey. I plan to take stock of this one mile by mile and try to enjoy each painful, joyful, insatiable, satisfying moment.

Eight weeks to go!