I was planning to wait a day or two to blog my race recap so I could marinade in the juices of the experience a little longer, but after watching Brian's report and reading The Marathon Mama's recap, I decided I may as well take my own turn on the blogosphere soapbox.
The quick and dirty report is that I broke 4 hours and set a 25 minute PR for myself. All in all, a successful day.
The long winded answer, however, is that I have mixed emotions about the experience, best explained by something The Marathon Mama said about marathons - "You can never count on them to produce the results you work for because it is such a long time for anything to happen and happen badly."
I arrived in Hopkinton full of hope and excitement and vigor and all those other good fuzzy feelings. I trained hard to get there in one piece and after an injury-free training season, I was incredibly excited to see what I was made of. I discovered that teammate Brian had the exact same pacing plan that Vic laid out for me, so we decided to run together and drag each other through Hell if needed. I felt even more confident knowing I had a pal to help pass the miles.
The gun went off and the weather was perfect - cool, a little overcast, breezy, but not a headwind. The first few miles ticked away and we were right on track, holding around 8:19 the whole way. By mile 4, though, I was conscious of my effort level to hold that pace and I just had a gut feeling that it wasn't my day. Still, I hung on, remembering both that Vic said running a marathon is like being slowly dragged over hot coals, and that I'd never raced Boston before - I'd only run it to finish - so I had no idea how "hard" it was supposed to feel.
I think it was somewhere around mile 9 that Brian pulled ahead to run his own race as I started running out of steam. By mile 10 my wheels started to come off. I felt tired, sluggish, and I needed to recycle some of the gatorade I drank in Hopkinton. I knew at that point that my race plan was out the window, so I took 30 seconds to cop a squat behind a traffic light controller box, refocus my brain and pull my race back together.
I felt a world better after relieving myself, and realized I wasn't THAT far off my plan. Maybe a couple minutes, which I theoretically could make up toward the end if I had steam. I trucked on and tried to focus on staying relaxed, while also reminding myself of why I run and who I was running for. In the 12 miles that followed, some were excruciating and I actually feared I wouldn't finish a few times. There was a headwind on Heartbreak Hill, and the sun broke through at some point, too. When it came out it was never hot, but I felt it zapping my energy and I know it played some role in the way I felt. Other portions of the race's midsection were not far off my goal pace and I felt hopeful that I'd come within 5 or 10 minutes of my goal finish time. The Newton Hills really took it out of me, though, and by mile 22 I knew it would be a battle of sheer will to Copley Square. I was right, too, and when I looked at my splits on my Garmin this morning, it really was those last 4 miles or so where I struggled the hardest.
I dug deep and found a burst of energy for the patient partners at Dana-Farber's mile 25 cheering station, then again at mile 26 where my family and one of my best friends was waiting. When I turned onto Boylston, the finish line looked like it was miles away, and I hardly had a sprint left in me, but I pulled out every last ounce of energy I had to pass through that gorgeous blue arch with my head proudly held high and my arms over my head. Jack tells us that if you run a marathon properly, you should be taking your last effective step at the finish line. I can say with absolute confidence, that was the case. And unfortunately, the finish chute goes for about 3 blocks, so after you take that last effective step you have to take MANY more before you can finally stop.
I finished 12 minutes slower than my goal, but was still proud to have even made it that close, given how poorly I felt at time, and how much I struggled in the last 4 miles. After I wobbled my way through the corral, I unexpectedly bumped into Brian at the Dana-Farber baggage bus. He had an equally challenging race, and finished a minute behind me.
So there you have it. I ran my third Boston and finished in under 4 hours, being carried by "thank you Dana-Faaaaahbah" the whole way. And I raised more than $5,500 for a charity I love. Am I disappointed that I didn't qualify? No. That was always a stretch goal and I know I'll do it at some point. This just wasn't my year. Am I disappointed that my race fell apart so early? Yes.
It's hard to explain what it feels like to follow your training to the letter and watch yourself growing faster and stronger each week, only to have your body and mind jam on the brakes not even halfway into the race. What I can say, though, is that it was a learning experience for me and now I know, like The Marathon Mama said, that you can't count on seeing the results you expect, which is not an easy thing for a Type A over-achiever like me to accept and come to grips with. What do you MEAN effort in doesn't equal results out?? Is today opposite day?
But please know this: I'm proud of myself. I'm happy with my time and I'm thrilled with my killer PR. And I'm excited to take what I've learned from this Boston with me into my next marathon and maybe run a little smarter. And I look forward to chasing that unicorn again next year.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
28 Names
I've been blogging about my training and fitness and bat-shit-craziness for quite some time now, but with the marathon now 5 days away, my mind has been more frequently turning away from my training and toward the reason I've signed up to do this three times - cancer.
Last year, the miles were hard and painful, but hearing "thank you Dana-Farber" for 26 miles and seeing the patient partners at Mile 25 made each step a little easier and more meaningful. I choose to train and run and torture my body. I can stop any time I want. But no one can choose not to have cancer or to not feel like crap after chemo and radiation treatments.
Each year, I've run the Boston Marathon to honor the lives of some special people my family and I lost to cancer. And as I've made friends with my DFMC teammates who each run for their own special people, their special people have become my own, by association. The last two marathons, I've written those names on ribbons, along with the names people gave me when they made donations to my page, pinned the ribbons to my singlet, and carried them with me on race day to honor their courage and remind myself why I run. This year I'm doing it again, and this morning I counted 28 ribbons. That's 28 courageous people who have fought cancer. Some lost, some won, some are still fighting.
I hope that as you root for me on Marathon Monday and track my race progress on the BAA website (bib #22586), that you'll take a moment to think about the real reason I'm running, and give a little mental nod to the brave people my teammates and I run for, as well as the ones in your own life.
Last year, the miles were hard and painful, but hearing "thank you Dana-Farber" for 26 miles and seeing the patient partners at Mile 25 made each step a little easier and more meaningful. I choose to train and run and torture my body. I can stop any time I want. But no one can choose not to have cancer or to not feel like crap after chemo and radiation treatments.
Each year, I've run the Boston Marathon to honor the lives of some special people my family and I lost to cancer. And as I've made friends with my DFMC teammates who each run for their own special people, their special people have become my own, by association. The last two marathons, I've written those names on ribbons, along with the names people gave me when they made donations to my page, pinned the ribbons to my singlet, and carried them with me on race day to honor their courage and remind myself why I run. This year I'm doing it again, and this morning I counted 28 ribbons. That's 28 courageous people who have fought cancer. Some lost, some won, some are still fighting.
I hope that as you root for me on Marathon Monday and track my race progress on the BAA website (bib #22586), that you'll take a moment to think about the real reason I'm running, and give a little mental nod to the brave people my teammates and I run for, as well as the ones in your own life.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
A Shameless Plug
With 6 days to go until the marathon, I'm feeling surprisingly calm and excited. I don't have any nagging injuries to worry about this year, I got ahead of the curve decorating my singlet and making sure to buy everything I'll need for race weekend ahead of time, and one of my best friends will be arriving in three short days from PA to hang out for the weekend and watch me run on Monday. What's NOT to be excited about?
As I look ahead to April 19, I'm once again thinking about all the people and things that helped me get to where I am today, and I'm incredibly grateful to all of them. My parents, Noah, my friends, my coworkers, Jack, my donors, and even the "track police" at MIT who thankfully didn't start patrolling until my very last workout - they all helped me through these last four months in one way or another.
But right now I'd be remiss if I didn't properly thank someone else - Coach Vic.
Training with him has opened my eyes to what I'm capable of achieving in the gym and on the road. I learned that I can, in fact, train for a marathon without my body falling apart. I learned that a 3:40 marathon is within my reach, if not next week then definitely in the next year. I learned that these little legs actually have some speed in them. I learned the importance of strength training and pacing and heart rate.
So here's the shameless plug part: As much as I wish Vic was my personal coach that no one else in the world could have, he's not. Anyone can tap into his knowledge, advice and skills, and if he's put up with my Type-A personality and freak-outs over the last few months, chances are he'd welcome adding a few more normal clients to his roster, to cancel out my crazy :)
If you're amazed at the results I've achieved in a few short months and interested in learning more about The Man, The Legend, The Vic, check out www.bostonperformancecoaching.com. He and Ali Winslow are VERY good at what they do (and are super nice people, on top of it) and surprisingly affordable - even on my "I work at a non-profit now" salary.
As I look ahead to April 19, I'm once again thinking about all the people and things that helped me get to where I am today, and I'm incredibly grateful to all of them. My parents, Noah, my friends, my coworkers, Jack, my donors, and even the "track police" at MIT who thankfully didn't start patrolling until my very last workout - they all helped me through these last four months in one way or another.
But right now I'd be remiss if I didn't properly thank someone else - Coach Vic.
Training with him has opened my eyes to what I'm capable of achieving in the gym and on the road. I learned that I can, in fact, train for a marathon without my body falling apart. I learned that a 3:40 marathon is within my reach, if not next week then definitely in the next year. I learned that these little legs actually have some speed in them. I learned the importance of strength training and pacing and heart rate.
So here's the shameless plug part: As much as I wish Vic was my personal coach that no one else in the world could have, he's not. Anyone can tap into his knowledge, advice and skills, and if he's put up with my Type-A personality and freak-outs over the last few months, chances are he'd welcome adding a few more normal clients to his roster, to cancel out my crazy :)
If you're amazed at the results I've achieved in a few short months and interested in learning more about The Man, The Legend, The Vic, check out www.bostonperformancecoaching.com. He and Ali Winslow are VERY good at what they do (and are super nice people, on top of it) and surprisingly affordable - even on my "I work at a non-profit now" salary.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Jerks, Jerks, and More Jerks
After being grumpy and tired all day yesterday, complaining that I didn't feel tapered and didn't understand why taper included speed work, I took a hard look at my training calendar and realized that last night's track workout was the last REAL WORKOUT before the marathon. Yeah, I have to run 4 easy tonight, 10 on Saturday, and a handful next week at marathon pace, but the tough stuff would officially be done as soon as I completed my track work.
So with that, I took my new attitude, new booty shorts and new sneakers over to the MIT outdoor track in the still-80-degree weather at 7:15pm. My stomach felt a little off and I felt really tired, but I was determined to make my 3-4 mile repeats really count and finish my training on a high.
Enter: The Fun Police.
Midway through my first @#$%%^ mile repeat, this somewhat official looking guy in a black MIT polo asked me if I was a student. I gasped out a no, while holding a 7:02 minute mile pace. I finished that mile, did my minute recovery, jumped back into my next mile and a half a mile in, this same official looking guy interrupts me mid-lap again (how rude!!!!) to tell me that I need a student ID to be on the track. I tell him I thought it was open to the public after 7pm and he tells me it's private property and they're going to be cracking down in the next weeks. I politely explain (ok, I was pleading) that I was running Boston in 2 weeks, that this was my last track workout and I only had a mile left. I asked if I could PLEAAAAAASE finish my workout. He told me "you can do a couple more laps, but that's it."
At this point, I was FURIOUS. He clearly was more interested in asserting his fake power over a tiny little blond girl who wasn't causing anyone any harm, than in listening to reason and letting me run 6 more laps (2 to finish the one he interrupted, 4 to do my last mile). I thought about getting in his face. I thought about just doing it all anyway and seeing if he had the gumption to have me physically removed. But the reality is, he stopped me mid-mile, halfway through my set and my workout, killed my momentum and ruined my workout. I was cooked.
I grabbed my water bottle and stormed off the track yelling "Thank you! Appreciate it!" back at him, and then decided maybe I could just do a couple of miles at track pace on the river. After all, a mile is a mile and I don't need a track to measure it. Just my Garmin. So I jogged over, only to realize it was a warm night and even at almost 8pm the river was PACKED. And it was dark enough that it was hard to see those people and the uneven spots on the sidewalk. I attempted it and at a half mile, realized the effort was futile. So I officially admitted defeat and jogged home, where two of the women who live in my building were sitting directly in front of the front door on the front steps drinking, smoking and hanging out. I had to step over their wine glasses to get in, and in my failed workout funk I just blurted out "You know there's a patio out back, right?" You can imagine how well that went over.... I might need to find a new apartment now.
So that's the sad end to my "official" training. Failed workout, angry neighbors, and me disappointed all around. Here's hoping my marathon goes a whole lot better.
So with that, I took my new attitude, new booty shorts and new sneakers over to the MIT outdoor track in the still-80-degree weather at 7:15pm. My stomach felt a little off and I felt really tired, but I was determined to make my 3-4 mile repeats really count and finish my training on a high.
Enter: The Fun Police.
Midway through my first @#$%%^ mile repeat, this somewhat official looking guy in a black MIT polo asked me if I was a student. I gasped out a no, while holding a 7:02 minute mile pace. I finished that mile, did my minute recovery, jumped back into my next mile and a half a mile in, this same official looking guy interrupts me mid-lap again (how rude!!!!) to tell me that I need a student ID to be on the track. I tell him I thought it was open to the public after 7pm and he tells me it's private property and they're going to be cracking down in the next weeks. I politely explain (ok, I was pleading) that I was running Boston in 2 weeks, that this was my last track workout and I only had a mile left. I asked if I could PLEAAAAAASE finish my workout. He told me "you can do a couple more laps, but that's it."
At this point, I was FURIOUS. He clearly was more interested in asserting his fake power over a tiny little blond girl who wasn't causing anyone any harm, than in listening to reason and letting me run 6 more laps (2 to finish the one he interrupted, 4 to do my last mile). I thought about getting in his face. I thought about just doing it all anyway and seeing if he had the gumption to have me physically removed. But the reality is, he stopped me mid-mile, halfway through my set and my workout, killed my momentum and ruined my workout. I was cooked.
I grabbed my water bottle and stormed off the track yelling "Thank you! Appreciate it!" back at him, and then decided maybe I could just do a couple of miles at track pace on the river. After all, a mile is a mile and I don't need a track to measure it. Just my Garmin. So I jogged over, only to realize it was a warm night and even at almost 8pm the river was PACKED. And it was dark enough that it was hard to see those people and the uneven spots on the sidewalk. I attempted it and at a half mile, realized the effort was futile. So I officially admitted defeat and jogged home, where two of the women who live in my building were sitting directly in front of the front door on the front steps drinking, smoking and hanging out. I had to step over their wine glasses to get in, and in my failed workout funk I just blurted out "You know there's a patio out back, right?" You can imagine how well that went over.... I might need to find a new apartment now.
So that's the sad end to my "official" training. Failed workout, angry neighbors, and me disappointed all around. Here's hoping my marathon goes a whole lot better.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Taper?
After we finished the 22-miler a couple of weekends ago, everyone was all "woohoo taper!" including me. With a week and a half to go until Marathon Monday, though, I'm finding myself thinking that the word "taper" is about as deceitful as "recovery run," and I woke up this morning thinking about how I feel anything but tapered.
To be fair, Vic warned me and Noah that we'd hardly recognize any taper in our schedules in the week following the 22-miler. And while he was right, I did reel in the joy of not having any speed work scheduled within my mid-distance runs that week; just the one day of track work.
This week is a different story, though. I had 20 minutes at tempo pace during Monday's run, I still had to do my strength workout yesterday and Vic has me doing 4-5 mile repeats on the track again tonight. And while we're on the subject, let me put it out there --I'm @#$%!&## sick of doing $%^&!$$# mile repeats every $%^&*%!$ week. Monotony doesn't even begin to cover it. I thought variety was the spice of life?
So my question is this - when will I finally wake up and think "Ahhh, blissful taper?" And why does everyone make such a big deal about taper when it doesn't actually get easy until the last 5 or 6 days before the race?
To be fair, Vic warned me and Noah that we'd hardly recognize any taper in our schedules in the week following the 22-miler. And while he was right, I did reel in the joy of not having any speed work scheduled within my mid-distance runs that week; just the one day of track work.
This week is a different story, though. I had 20 minutes at tempo pace during Monday's run, I still had to do my strength workout yesterday and Vic has me doing 4-5 mile repeats on the track again tonight. And while we're on the subject, let me put it out there --I'm @#$%!&## sick of doing $%^&!$$# mile repeats every $%^&*%!$ week. Monotony doesn't even begin to cover it. I thought variety was the spice of life?
So my question is this - when will I finally wake up and think "Ahhh, blissful taper?" And why does everyone make such a big deal about taper when it doesn't actually get easy until the last 5 or 6 days before the race?
Friday, April 2, 2010
Secret Weapons
I recently read Kathrine Switzer's autobiography, and in the first few chapters she talks about her first introductions to running. She wanted to make it onto one of her school's sports teams, and her dad suggested she start running a little bit each day over the summer so she'd be stronger and fitter by the time try-outs happened. As she felt herself indeed growing stronger, she thought of these runs as her "secret weapon" - the thing that would give her an edge over the other girls because no one else was doing it.
As I pushed through the last few sets of my track work on Tuesday this week, I started thinking about Kathrine and her secret weapon, and I realized that it wasn't just the running that helped her, but also the confidence that running gave her.
Everyone will tell you that running a marathon is more mental than it is physical, and while there's nothing secret about pushing it on the track to see results on the course, I think there's something to the confidence it gives me. I know I can push through the discomfort and fatigue of running in 200 meter circles at near top speed for an hour. What's to stop me from running in a straight line for 26.2 miles at marathon pace with throngs of cheering people at every step? The confidence of knowing what I'm made of will carry me from Hopkinton to Boston on race day.
Another "secret weapon" I haven't blogged about yet is my new shorts. After a few years of running in your typical nylon Nike track shorts, I decided to invest in a pair of those tight spandex booty shorts you see the elite athletes wear (not the SUPER short ones they call "buns" but the longer ones). The decision was two-part: 1. I'm sick of risking a peep show every time I stretch 2. It can't hurt to channel my inner Kara Goucher on race day.
I tested them out on the track this week to see how they feel/fit in motion, and I would like to think they played a small part in my stellar results that night. While in reality I was your average Jane on an indoor track running 7-minute miles, mentally I was on the final stretch down Boylston St. among the elites, vying to break the tape (and my butt looked better than any of theirs). If it's warm enough, I will most certainly wear them on race day and take that confidence with me as well.
So will track work + booty shorts = BQ on April 19? Only one way to find out! 17 days to go.
As I pushed through the last few sets of my track work on Tuesday this week, I started thinking about Kathrine and her secret weapon, and I realized that it wasn't just the running that helped her, but also the confidence that running gave her.
Everyone will tell you that running a marathon is more mental than it is physical, and while there's nothing secret about pushing it on the track to see results on the course, I think there's something to the confidence it gives me. I know I can push through the discomfort and fatigue of running in 200 meter circles at near top speed for an hour. What's to stop me from running in a straight line for 26.2 miles at marathon pace with throngs of cheering people at every step? The confidence of knowing what I'm made of will carry me from Hopkinton to Boston on race day.
Another "secret weapon" I haven't blogged about yet is my new shorts. After a few years of running in your typical nylon Nike track shorts, I decided to invest in a pair of those tight spandex booty shorts you see the elite athletes wear (not the SUPER short ones they call "buns" but the longer ones). The decision was two-part: 1. I'm sick of risking a peep show every time I stretch 2. It can't hurt to channel my inner Kara Goucher on race day.
I tested them out on the track this week to see how they feel/fit in motion, and I would like to think they played a small part in my stellar results that night. While in reality I was your average Jane on an indoor track running 7-minute miles, mentally I was on the final stretch down Boylston St. among the elites, vying to break the tape (and my butt looked better than any of theirs). If it's warm enough, I will most certainly wear them on race day and take that confidence with me as well.
So will track work + booty shorts = BQ on April 19? Only one way to find out! 17 days to go.
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