Race Report: New Bedford Half Marathon

New Bedford Half Marathon
March 17, 2013
New Bedford, MA
Start time 11:00am
Temp at start, 37 degrees, sunny, freezing cold wind
Chip time 2:13:55

The 2013 New Bedford Half Marathon might be the greatest race I've ever run. But first things first. The most important part of this race report is knowing what my confidence level was like in the weeks leading up to this race. My training season so far has been just ok. Some days I feel stronger than I was last year, and some days I feel like my fitness has slipped considerably from last year. The Black Cat 20-miler, which was a few weeks ago, has sort of been haunting me as time goes on. I had a good race and was relatively happy with my finishing time, but when I compared my results to the same race last year, I started to become irritated that my pace was about 22 seconds per mile slower this year. I've gone through all the stages of coping with this, from thinking that I'm a total failure for not improving, to rationalizing that it's actually better that I was on my feet for an extra 7 minutes. No matter what I think, I still come back to the same conclusion, which is to stop analyzing every run so damn much.

My coach recommended that I race the New Bedford Half Marathon, which we decided I'd sign up for after my previously scheduled half marathon was cancelled due to weather a few weeks ago. I was in good company with fellow Liver Lovers: Connie, Lisa, Sarah, and Heather all ran, along with a few other team members who were there though I didn't see much of them. Thanks to Den Mother Connie for lending me her gloves, just like she did at the Black Cat race, and for convincing me to keep my jacket on for the run which I hadn't planned to do. I'm glad I did because the wind was something wicked! I was only too hot for about 30 seconds around mile 4, but the other 2 hours and 13 minutes, I was glad for the extra layer. My coach's instruction for this race was "KILL IT!" She's a tiger cub, I tell ya, a cute little vicious tiger cub.  I did a "taper run" the day before the half marathon that had 1 minute intervals of running at a much faster pace than I ever run. After I reported back to my coach on how comfortable these intervals felt, she proceeded to tell me that I was going to have a great race, and commented that she expected I'd run the race about a minute faster per mile than what I had in mind -- except she didn't know what I had in mind, she was just making a casual comment. One little casual comment that absolutely BLEW. MY. MIND. A few days prior to this, E3 Training Solutions (the coaching company I use) posted this article about how Kenyans train. If you don't want to click on the link, just know that the subtitle of the article is "If Kenyans regularly crash and burn during workouts, maybe we should too." In a nutshell, it says that instead of running conservatively so they know they can cover the distance, they train at their desired pace, even if it means they burn out before the finish line. It was an interesting concept, and one that I never ever would follow. Except for that little seed that my coach planted in my head that made me think maybe I could do more than I thought I could. Maybe. And that maybe was enough for me to decide:  I was going to run this half marathon like a fucking Kenyan.

Ok, but instead of 5 minute miles, it was more like 10 minute miles. Scratch the Kenyan analogy already. Picture this: a chubby white girl lines up at the starting line, deciding she's going to run 10 minute miles instead of 11 minute miles. Yeah, it was like that. My first mile was a 9:30. I knew that was too fast, so the next 3 miles I ran more conservatively, partly on purpose, and partly because there was a series of neverending hills from miles 3-4. By the time I crested the final hill, there was a long slight downhill and I decided this is when I would kick up my pace. I settled back into the 9:30-9:50 pace range for a couple of miles. It felt like it had on my intervals the day before. I was running, not plodding, and even though my watch and my brain both said it was fast, my body felt that it was comfortable. I decided to keep going. I conceded that if I did crash and burn like a Kenyan, then it was still a good experiment. I was cruising pretty good until mile 9. It was right around this time that I caught up to my teammate Sarah. We are usually at the back of the pack together, and since I knew I was having a great race so far, and she was ahead of me, I knew she was also having an epic race. Shortly after we exchanged high fives and "you're awesome!" "no, you're awesome!" comments, we turned the corner on a peninsula along the ocean and met a super strong headwind. I really felt like I was running in place, and I could feel myself getting tired.  Sarah and I took turns passing each other for the next couple of miles, encouraging one another at each brief meeting. I might have called it quits here if it weren't for Sarah, because I'm sure I would have found a way to beat myself up about going out too fast, etc. If Sarah could keep pushing on, so could I.  I had planned to run hard for the last 2 miles, but when I did finally get to the 11 mile mark, I was fading fast. My splits were getting slower and slower. I was looking at the average pace on my watch, which had been sub 10:00's for most of the race, and had now crept up above the 10:00 mark. The math said that if I could run high 8:00's/low 9:00's for the final 2 miles, I could finish at a sub 10:00 pace, which would have been so unheard of that I probably would have thrown a parade in my honor. But alas, my legs didn't give a shit about the math. They were already cranking as hard as they could, and it wasn't looking too good.  I might not have thought it was possible, but my coach did, and I believed that she believed it, so that was enough to keep me trying my damnedest to make it happen. 

It was almost possible, except, well, I had nothing left. The course throws another neverending hill at you at mile 12, so any energy you've been saving up for a final push gets depleted on this hill. I was giving it all I had, and kept looking at my watch trying to stop the average pace from creeping up above 10:10. My PR for a half marathon was run exactly a year ago on the same weekend, on a different race course, and I knew my average pace from that race was 10:11. I was trying my hardest to keep my pace from climbing any higher. I still had Sarah in my sights as we finally reached the top of the hill and started our cruise down to the finish. I was finally able to let loose. My legs were shaking, I had barely enough energy left, but I left it all out there and ran as hard as I could. I finished with an average pace of 10:07! A PR, or so I thought. It was when I stopped my watch that I finally looked at the other numbers on the display. A half marathon is 13.1 miles, but my watch had measured 13.24. What this means is that my average pace was artificially low by a few seconds. The official distance of the race is 13.1, regardless of what my Garmin measures. My total time for the half marathon was 2:13:55, 28 seconds slower than my previous PR. I still feel like this was the strongest I had ever run, which was more important then whether or not this was a PR. I was so happy with this run that I didn't feel the need to analyze the run and compare it against last year's run. (Ok, fine, I did that, but it just made me feel better about the run.) The fact that I was trying so hard is new for me. I liked it and hated it all at the same time. It was good for me to race this race, not just run it. I need to push myself every now and then, even if it's just to prove to myself what other people already know I'm capable of.

Oh, and in case you were wondering... the Kenyans run the full 26.2 mile marathon in less time than it took me to run the half marathon. Not that I'm comparing or anything. 

The No Shit Epiphany

When I was about 12 years old, I was in a piano recital. I had memorized my piece (the name of which has long since escaped my memory) and had practiced it to near perfection many times. When it was time for me to perform in this recital in front of my family and many, many strangers, I totally bombed. I think my hands were on the wrong keys, so while I may have gone through the motions perfectly, it was a complete cacophonous train wreck. Come to think of it, the same thing happened in high school when I went to a regional typing competition (nope, not kidding!). I was one of the fastest typists in my school, and got to attend a typing competition at Marion Court College instead of attending school that day. Same thing happened. Instead of my fingers resting on the Qwerty row, they were resting on the Wertyu row, so I don't think I typed a single comprehensible word. 

The moral of the story: It doesn't matter how good you are, or how much preparation you've put in, if you make a stupid mistake, it will cost you.

I'm not only good at making stupid mistakes, I'm good at making the same stupid mistakes over and over again. When I learn my lesson, it's a new epiphany every time. I've started calling these my No Shit Epiphanies because after the shock & awe of my new found discovery sinks in, I immediately realize, "Oh wait, that's not new. That's common sense." To give you a basic example, I just discovered after my Saturday run of 17 miles that I should be drinking fluids. Sounds pretty basic, right? I'm sure some of you who are reading this who haven't ever trained for a marathon or a 5k probably know that running + hydration is a good idea. But not me! I actually didn't figure this out until MONDAY, two days after my run, and even then I think it was my co-worker and teammate Connie who pointed it out to me. We hadn't run together on Saturday, so we were giving each other a play-by-play of our runs. I told her how I had run 17 miles as two loops on the course, but I didn't time it well enough to take advantage of our team's water stops that were out there. I was too early for two of the water stops on my first loop, and too late for two of the water stops on my second loop. As a result, I only got fluid at miles 4.5, 9, and 11. From mile 11 to 17, I had nothing to drink. Basic survival instinct should have kicked in and made me feel thirsty, but instead I was busy switching tracks on my ipod, thinking that Black Eyed Peas isn't helping, maybe Eminem is what I need. I got through the run, and it was tough, but mostly I was just glad it was over. I drove myself home and carried on as normal, not realizing that anything was amiss.

The next day turned out to be a pretty scary day for me. I had a scheduled swim workout of 2000 meters. I love to swim, and even after a long run when my legs are shot, it feels good. The pool didn't open until 2pm that day, which worked out well because I uncharacteristically slept until 11:00am. Perhaps there were alarm bells going off in my head saying, "Something's not right!" but this ding-a-ling didn't hear them. I ate my usual breakfast around 11:30 and then didn't eat again before heading to the pool around 2pm. By the time I drove to the pool and got in to start my workout, it was close to 2:45pm. This is when I started to feel off. The only way I can explain it is that my mind and my body were not communicating with each other. I only did 350 meters of my 2000 meter swim, and I suddenly found myself getting out of the pool, much to my own surprise. I remember thinking, "Hrmm, why am I getting out of the pool? I guess I'm ending this workout early." Then I went into the locker room and just sat, soaking wet with a towel wrapped around me. I thought I just needed a minute, but one minute turned into forty-five. At one point a half naked woman came out of the sauna and cradled my face in her hand, asking if I was ok. I couldn't form any words, and just started bawling crying. It was beyond my control. I didn't even know why I was crying. I finally managed to say, "I'm just tired." I was able to get myself dressed and out of the locker room, but by the time I climbed the stairs to the lobby of the gym, I was completely depleted of energy. I had to sit down for another 10 minutes. I finally made it to my car and started to drive myself home. About a mile from my house, I had to pull the car over because I didn't have the energy to continue driving. I parked on the side of the road, killed the engine, then took a nap for about 45 minutes. When I woke up, I had just enough energy to drive the final mile home and get myself into the house, where I crashed again for a couple of hours.

I can hear my family members scoffing right now, saying, "God, you are so dramatic!" But those really are the facts. The scary part wasn't the lack of energy, it was the total disconnect between my brain and my body. I have since talked to my coach, my doctor, and a few of my teammates. The overall consensus is that I either had low blood sugar, or was dehydrated from the day before, or simply didn't fuel enough prior to this workout, or replenish enough after the workout the day before, or all of the above. So the No Shit Ephiphany of this story -- apparently I need to properly fuel with both food and fluids. (They teach you this on day 1, folks.)

Start of the 21-miler, 2012

Then it dawned on me today, 3 days after this episode, that this same thing happened to me last year after our team 21-miler on the course. Last year I was not eating flour or sugar, which made fueling during runs especially tricky. I was mostly fueling with bananas. For the 21-miler, I had two bananas: one that I carried with me and ate around mile 6, and one that I stashed on the course ahead of time at the 17-mile mark. For those of you doing math at home, that's about 200 calories worth of fuel over a 3.5 hour run. Nutritional guidance (which I knew at the time) was about 100-200 calories per hour. I know I did this math at the time because I remember saying outloud, "I'm not going to eat 7 bananas on one run!" So I didn't. I ate two. It didn't occur to me that improper fueling could be my problem when I was weak and sobbing at mile 18. I attributed that to weakness of character, being too fat, not being properly trained, etc. (Have I mentioned I am my own worst enemy?) When I finished the run, I experienced that same disconnect between my brain and my body that I just experienced this past Sunday. Our campaign manager was at the finish line with other volunteers from the Run For Research team. I was relieved that I had finally finished the run, but when she asked me how I was feeling, I just started crying. I was incoherent and couldn't form a proper sentence. She was concerned because the color had drained from my face. She came at me with pretzels and gatorade, and at first I refused, because I didn't eat flour or sugar. She insisted, and I gave in, thinking that perhaps in this instance pretzels and gatorade were exactly what I needed. And whaddya know, after a few minutes I felt better and my world didn't come crashing down because I ate flour & sugar. Millions of runners fuel with sugar, but I think I'm so unique that the rules of race-day nutrition don't apply to me? That's not willpower or persistence or tenacity, that's stupidity.

I don't want to turn this into a post filled with judgement or scorn, or nutritional opinion, so I will leave you with this No Shit Ephiphany, which a very wise friend said to me a few years ago: "Do the things that work, and don't do the things that don't work." Words to live by, for sure, whether you are training for a marathon, or figuring out a relationship, or just learning how to live a better life. And for those of us who don't get it on the first (or second, or third...) try, we just keep on keeping on. It's progress, not perfection.

Race Report: Black Cat 20-miler

Black Cat 20-miler
March 2, 2013
Salem, MA
Start time 8am
Temp at start, 36 degrees, clear skies & sunny
Chip time 3:54:30

There aren't many road races over the half marathon distance, and certainly even fewer that align well with a specific marathon training program. The Black Cat 20-miler is 6-weeks out from the Boston Marathon and so it is geared toward that crowd. They also have a 10-mile race which is more popular. The 10-mile race had 681 finishers, while the 20-mile race only had 267 (I came in 260th - woo! Not last!)

There was lots of Liver Love at this race. My teammates Lisa, Connie, Billy, and Dayna all ran the 20-miler. Billy, our resident fastie, suggested that we all go out to Brunch after the race. We reminded him that he would be done 2 hours before us, so he brought a snack and we renamed "Brunch" to "Lunch". It was great to have Run for Research Teammates there -- both for support on the course, and for camaraderie after the race.

All of the 10-milers and 20-milers start at the same time and both run a 10-mile loop. The big difference being that the 10-milers stop after one loop and the 20-milers continue on for a second loop. This is both good and bad, depending on where on the course you are. The course is more of an out & back than a loop. The loop is really only at the very end, where you run parallel to the course a few blocks over so that you can cross the start line again to start the 2nd loop. The good thing about this being mostly an out & back is that you can see the lead runners as they head back toward you. This is great when you have a lot of friends running, as we did, because you get to cheer each other on during the race.

The toughest part of this course is mile 9-10, with mile 10-11 being only slightly less miserable. When I got to mile 9, I felt good. I was cruising at a pretty comfortable pace the entire race, just under an 11:30 pace which was my goal. I didn't really feel tired, which was good considering I had to run the entire course again.  Just after the 9 mile mark, I spotted flashing blue lights coming up behind me. It was the police escort for the lead runner. I got lapped! The winner ran a 5:34/mile pace. For TWENTY MILES. I guess if I'm going to get lapped, it might as well be by someone who is clearly not human. Getting lapped wasn't the worst part though. At about mile 9.25, the course turns back toward the start/finish line. At this point, there are hundreds of runners who have already finished the 10-mile race who are now walking back to their cars, finisher's medals around their necks and water bottles and bagels in their hands. Now don't get me wrong, I love cheerleaders, and I appreciate kind words. But when I have over 10 miles to go, it's really hard to hear people yelling, "You're almost there, just over that hill and you're done!" And it wasn't just one or two people, it was a steady stream of runners. As I got closer to the start of my second 10-mile loop, the encouragement was even tougher to hear. "You're there! Great race! Strong finish!" What made the situation a little tougher was the few runners around me who really were running the 10-miler, who quickly veered off to the left toward the finish line, while I continued on straight ahead into the silence. At first I was glad to be out of the faux cheering section, until I realized there was suddenly NO ONE left. Mile 10-11 was a ghost town. No spectators, no other runners in sight. It was going to be a long, lonely second loop.

After reaching mile 11, the course matched up again on the out & back loop, so I could finally see other runners, even if they were nearing mile 19 while I was only on 11. I could see my friend Lisa on the horizon, and ended up catching up to her at a water stop around mile 13. We ran together (within ear shot) for the next 2 miles and basically together (just out of ear shot) for the last couple of miles. From mile 13 to the turnaround, we were able to see a steady stream of runners heading back until we turned around at mile 14.5. Considering I finished in 6th to last place, the turnaround was pretty much the end of our spectating, although we did see our friend Connie who was maybe a 1/2 mile behind us. She wasn't happy, and she let us know. We kind of just smiled and waved at her in response, which probably wasn't the most helpful thing, but shouting, "We're miserable too!" may not have been much better.

The last 5.5 miles back to the finish were tough. Mentally I was fine -- Sylvia did not show up at this race at all, which is incredible. Nutritionally I was fine -- my coach tweaked my fueling plan a few weeks ago after a tough 18 mile run, when we determined that I wasn't getting enough carbs/calories before and during my run. Physically I was not fine -- specifically the muscles in my left hip and quad. My muscles were so tight that I could feel myself running with a limp. At one point I stopped, thinking I would try to stretch it out, but as soon as I stopped I could feel all the muscles in both legs seize up and I nearly keeled over. I decided that my patented "Slowanski Shuffle" was my best bet for ending this pain, otherwise I would just drag it out. My first 10 miles were an 11:27 pace, and these last couple of miles were in the low 12:00's, but I kept moving. Mile 19-20 was back down to 11:37, so it was nice to know I still had energy left after 19 miles to push it a little at the end. I think the faster pace made my leg feel a little better to because the limp wasn't as noticeable at the faster pace. My average pace for the race was 11:44, which was about 20 seconds per mile slower than this same race last year, but I'm still happy with my time.

I'm also so proud of my teammates! Billy finished in the top 20. Dayna was freshly dressed and happy as a clam by the time we finished. This was Connie's longest run ever by 3 miles. Lisa ran faster than her fastest half marathon pace. It was a great day for the Liver Team!

A good week -- who knew?

My blog has been too whiny and complainy lately, and no one wants to read that. It's Sunday night, and I'm sitting on the couch with my cat, neither one of us with a care in the world. Some exciting things have been happening lately, too, so it's beyond me why I choose to blog about my crappy 45 minute run instead of the other GOOD 10,035 minutes from the past week.

I got a new car. That was more like a week and a half ago, but it feels like I just got it because this weekend was the first time I've had to fill up the tank. It still smells new. It's a Toyota Corolla, which is the same car I traded in when I bought the car I just got rid of. That Corolla was a 1999, and the one I just bought was a 2013, but it feels just like my old car except newer and shinier and with Bluetooth. In fact, I don't even remember what the car I just got rid of feels like anymore, only that it ate tires and didn't get good gas mileage. I've named the car Edith after the Downton Abbey character, because she's plain and boring and while she's nothing to write home about, she is dependable and reliable and has nothing better to do than to get you to where you need to go.

I went on a date. And due to the potential that he is cyber stalking me (don't I wish!) I won't say anything more about that, except that I had fun, and yes I would like to go out with you again.

I am making progress, despite the fact that I tell myself otherwise. Every Monday night I go to an indoor track for a coached track workout. This week was Track Bingo.

Every runner gets a bingo card, which they select based on their projected marathon time. The numbers on the Bingo card represent time in seconds to complete a single lap on the 200 meter track. Run that time, cross out that number, try to get a BINGO. The first time I did Track Bingo a few months ago, I chose the slowest possible card out of the 6 choices. This week, I decided to up my game, and I chose the 2nd to last slowest card. I was pissy all week because I only lasted half of the track workout, which I translated to mean I am half as good as I was a few months ago. But if I can just call Bullshit on myself for a moment -- I didn't do the complete Track Bingo workout a few months ago either. I remember leaving early with my friend who wasn't feeling well. Even though I left even earlier this past week, I also ran slightly faster. Many of the laps were in the same range, so the difference is negligible. But if I'm going to overreact when there are signs that my fitness is declining, then I can occasionally overreact when there are signs that my fitness is improving. I need to start giving myself more credit, so I'll take it wherever I can.

I had a great long run yesterday. I was supposed to run a half marathon Sunday, which was cancelled on Friday due to a predicted snow storm. My coach changed up my schedule and had me run an easy 15 miles on Saturday instead of racing 13.1 miles on Sunday. It wasn't until I realized I needed a graphic for this paragraph that I realized how much better this week's run was compared to last week's run. Here are the splits for the Newton Hills, including Heartbreak Hill. Math doesn't lie, but my brain does.

I rented my condo. I have a rental property that is a major stressor for me. I'm on my fourth set of tenants, and every time a tenant gives notice, I catastrophize and go into a tailspin about how I'll never be able to rent it out again, and how much time and money I'll need to spend on the repairs, etc. I put an ad online at the beginning of the week, did my first showing yesterday, rented it yesterday, and the tenants are moving in Friday. No biggie.

I'm not a couch potato. For years and years, up until I started living a healthier lifestyle 3.5 years ago, I watched a lot of TV. I mean, a LOT of TV. I would come home from work and pretty much start watching TV around 6pm. I would make dinner (i.e. put a frozen pizza in the oven) during commercials, eat in front of the TV, and  basically stay there until I fell asleep on the couch, or I turned off the TV at 11pm and went to bed. That's about 5 hours of television per night. I'm sure I watched just as much, if not more, on the weekends. To be conservative, let's just say I watched 30 hours of TV per week. The training program that my coach uses gives me weekly totals of the time I spend training. It's only 7 hours per week! Don't get me wrong, it's a hard 7 hours per week, but that's just a quarter of the time I used to spend sitting doing nothing. I write this as a reminder for myself that instead of beating myself up because I didn't finish a track workout, or I missed Friday's swim altogether, I need to remember to be grateful for what I am doing. That couch and television are just one cranky decision away from becoming my life again, and that is not what I want. I want everything exactly as it is right now, and that's what I've got.

Gorilla Run

I've been feeling a little bi-polar lately with regard to my running. Thursday night, I had a horrible run. I ran around my neighborhood after work, in the dark, in the cold, biting wind. The sidewalks are clear for a bit until you reach the snowpile at the end of the block. I did a lot of climbing back & forth over snowbanks going from the road to the sidewalks. I never really got into a groove, even when I did have some good clear stretches. Sylvia, the negative wench that lives in my head, was having a field day with this run. Sometimes when I'm on a run, I think about what I have to blog about, or what I'll have to say about this run to my coach. For Thursday night's run, the only thing I could come up that I wanted to share with the world or my coach was, "I HATE THIS AND I'M QUITTING RUNNING AND I'M CRAZY TO THINK I CAN DO A HALF IRONMAN AND EVEN SAYING THESE WORDS IS A WASTE OF YOUR TIME SO I WON'T EVEN BOTHER SHARING THEM ANYWAY." And yes, I do think in shouty run-on sentences. Actually, it's more like paragraphs, but no one needs to be subjected to that crap (including me; I'm working on that part...)

36 hours later, I'm showing up for our weekly group long run. I'm calm. I still have some lingering self-doubts but I'm doing a pretty good job of ignoring them. We run for 15 miles, and I feel good at the end. There is no temper tantrum, no pity party, no tears of defeat. It's just a good run.

Wow, being normal is just so boring.

Here is a photo from today's run, at about mile 10.

Heartbreak Hill Running Company sends their gorilla, Heartbreak Bill, out on the course so runners like us will take a photo with him (notice their store in the background), and then they post it on facebook, and then we "like" their company page so we can tag ourselves in the photo. It's a brilliant viral marketing scheme, since dozens of runners end up sharing these photos to hundreds of friends. 

Why is it a gorilla? It doesn't matter, but it's working for them.

Why did I have a good run today? That doesn't matter either, and I'm pretty sure it's working ok for me.

Ghosts of Marathons Past

Earlier this week, my co-worker and fellow Run For Research teammate Connie said that she remembered me talking about my training around this time last year. She said that I was saying things like, "I'm never going to finish the marathon," and "I wish I could give people their donations back." While I don't remember saying those things, there is no doubt in my mind that I said them. For the last 3 miles of today's 18-mile long run, I was convinced that there was no way I would ever be able to run a marathon. One would think that this thought would immediately be followed up by the thought, "Yeah, but you said that last year and you finished the marathon, so these doubts are normal, and you can ignore them." That would be logical, but logic don't live here.

The 2013 Boston Marathon, which is less than two months away, will be my fourth marathon. That means I've done three already. (I'm not talking down to you, dear reader, I'm talking down to myself. I'm a slow learner. Sometimes I gotta take baby steps.) It's safe to say that three times before today, I've had thoughts that I wouldn't be able to finish whatever marathon I was training for. Actually, my second marathon -- the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, VT in May 2003 -- I didn't even intend to finish. My cousin Emily and I signed up for Vermont City in the hazy honeymoon period following our first ever marathon finish at Chicago in 2002. Then, you know, it was winter. And we were lazy. And we'd already checked off the "run a marathon" box. But we were also cheap, and we'd already paid the entry fee. We'd at least go to get our free t-shirts. Ok fine, so since we're there, we'll at least start the race. The race did a cloverleaf through the Start/Finish area, so we could have dropped out at mile 3, 9 or 15.5. At mile 15.5, we thought "We've already done 15.5, what's another 10.7?" Like I said, logic don't live here. As it turned out, I ended up beating my Chicago marathon time by about 13 minutes. I decided to celebrate by taking the next 6.5 years off of doing any kind of physical activity. I don't recommend that.

My third marathon, last year's Boston Marathon, felt like my first in a way, since I had basically learned to start running all over again (chronicled in my Couch to 5k blog.) Due to the extreme heat on the day of the marathon though, my time was slower than my previous two marathons. If you're curious, here are my times:

Chicago Marathon, October 2002 -- 5:47:15 (13:15 pace)
Vermont City Marathon, May 2003 -- 5:33:40 (12:44 pace)
Boston Marathon, April 2012 -- 6:08:00 (14:02 pace)

My goal for this year's marathon is to beat 5 hours. That was my goal for last year as well, which I scrapped a few days before the marathon due to the heat. After a run like I had today, I don't think that beating 5 hours is possible, but I am also acknowledging the fact that it doesn't really matter what I think today. The marathon is 8 weeks away, which means I have 8 weeks to do the work and not let my brain get in the way. If I don't beat 5 hours, then I'll still have completed four marathons and will just carry on with life. I could always focus on the 6 triathlons that I've signed up for this spring & summer. Hey now, there's a good distraction! Yay Triathlon!

The Winter That Was.

Last year was my first year training for the Boston Marathon. It was a very mild winter, with barely any snow and only a few sub-freezing days. It was the Winter That Never Was. I remember repeatedly saying, "Wow, I picked the best year to train for Boston!" I said that up until the record-breaking 87-degree race day. So with that irony in mind, I'm actually embracing this winter's weather, even if that means I get ridiculously overdressed due to the wicked cold temps.

This coming Saturday was supposed to be the "Love Your Liver" run, one of two major training runs that are held on the Boston Marathon course. We would have been bussed out to Natick Center where we would have run the last 16.2 miles of the marathon course, finishing at (or next to, if you're superstitious) the actual Finish line which is permanently painted on Boylston Street in Copley Square. Alas, the run has been cancelled due to real, hardcore winter weather. Here is the latest prediction:

That not only cancels the Love Your Liver run, but it also eliminates the possibility of being able to run a safe long-run on our own on either Saturday or Sunday. Even if the roads are cleared for driving by Sunday afternoon, that still means that we runners have to run in the narrower roads, as sidewalks may not be cleared or are just non-existent in some areas.

I was discussing this with my co-worker and fellow Run For Research teammate Connie at work today. Another co-worker, who is not a runner, and who may have just been mocking us, said, "Just run tomorrow morning instead." Well I thought that was a brilliant idea, so that's what I am doing. My training plan from my coach called for a 35 minute run, so it's not a big deal to turn that into a 3 hour run and then go to work for 8 hours, right?

Reason #293 why I love my Run for Research team -- the insane emails back & forth between my teammates when a training hiccup like this happens.
Exhibit A. Both emails below are from my teammate Lisa.
1:49PM: I can't believe you're going to do a long run by yourself, before work. You are HARDCORE!!!
2:03PM: OK maybe I'm crazy, but can I join you tomorrow morning for the long run?

Exhibit B. Emails between me and teammate Jennie.
Jennie: Sheri wants to run 10 or 12 tonight. I'm all nervous now. Am I ready to run 10 or 12? I haven't eaten more than saltines in the last 2 days, I'm definitely not hydrated enough.
Me: You can do it! 10-12 is only 2 hours of running.
Jennie: it's morphed into maybe 14 1/2 miles! with Scotty and Scott Luther and Kim and Heather! It'll be great :) 

1 runner + crazy mileage = Dreadful
2 or more runners + crazy mileage = Fun!