I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

Holy smokes, here we go again! We just kicked off Fall Season for Team in Training and I'll be back blogging. I thought it might be kind of fun to do some videos mixed in with regular blogs, so here you have my first attempt at a video. I just watched it and I can safely say that a) I hate how much my ears stick out and b) my eyes bug out of my head way too much.

I promise it won't all be videos this season - I am a far better writer than I am a speaker, and honestly at the top of my game, I'm a mediocre writer, at best. Anyway, if the sheer morbid curiosity gets the best of you, enjoy the video. And if not, I promise I'll write soon.

I Have a Feeling This Is Your Race

Here it is: the race day post! This one is long, and this may be slightly all over the place, so hold onto your hats.

We arrived in Arizona on Friday afternoon. Laura, my race weekend roomie, and I had decided ahead of time that we were going to try to keep things as zen as possible. We didn't want to do big group meals or sit at the pool or wander around the desert in hoards of TNTers. We love our friends, don't get us wrong, we just didn't want to hang out with them until the race was over. So we hit up the expo with Laura's family with a couple goals in mind: 1) buy some cute Arizona marathon gear (exhibit A - seriously in love with the shirt), 2) stop by the pace teams and see if they had the wrist bands or pace tattoos, and 3) not get caught in a clusterfuck of TNTers all trying to stop at the same time. 

Cute Arizona marathon gear

The pace teams booth was underwhelming. My exchange with the Pace Team Booth Guy (PTBG) went something like this:

Me: Why hello! I wanted to ask about the pace teams for Sunday. How exactly is it going to work?
PTBG:You pin this piece of paper to your back with your pace time on it and you run with your leader.
Me: Do you have pace bracelets or pace tattoos so we can verify if we're on target or not?
PTBG: We do not
Me: OK so hmmm... I'm interested in the 4:30 group. Who leads that?
PTBG: Dale and Danelle
Me: And what can you tell me about Dale and Danelle?
PTBG: All the peace team leaders are very strong runners who have run a lot of marathons. They'll get you to the finish at that pace.
Me: I see... but can you tell me anything about their personalities? Or their genders [I couldn't tell if "Dannelle" was meant to be either Danielle or Donelle - it could've gone either way]? Or their strategies? Are they going to walk water stops or run them? Is there a particular side of the road they'll stick to? Are they running with a Garmin or do they just 'feel' the pace?
PTBG: Look you'll have to ask them this stuff on race morning.
Me: So, you can't tell me anything.
PTBG: Not really.
Me: Awesome

I turned back to share my disbelief at their lack of preparation with some of my fellow teammates (Team Coach) who'd found us at the expo, and they'd never actually heard of the pace tattoos before - but they were interested.

Pace Tattoo

They walked off to continue their expo adventures, when not 30 seconds later, the fantastic Courtney Gordinier comes flying back over to me, yelling, "THEY HAVE THE PACE TATTOOS!! This other booth guy has them!!!". I swear you could actually hear angels singing. We all found pace tattoos that correlated with our race plans, and happily paid the whopping $3 it cost us.

Now you might be wondering, what the hell is a pace tattoo and why do you want one so badly? A pace tattoo is a stick on tattoo that displays a chart of total time that should have elapsed by the time you hit certain mile markers. So if you're targeting a 4 hour marathon, at mile 13.1 you need to be 2 hours into your race. If you're at mile 13.1 and the clock is at 1:45, you went out way too fast - and now you're gonna pay for it. Conversely, if you're at mile 13.1 and the clock is at 2:15, you may need to adjust your race goals or strategy for the back half. That's a simple example - any yahoo can divide a total race time in half to figure out where they should be at mile 13.1. The real benefit of these pace tats is that when you're at mile 17, and your brain can no longer put together a complete thought, let alone perform basic arithmetic, you can do a very quick glance down and immediately know if you're still on track for your goal finish time - no math required.

I decided to run with the 4:30 pace tat, because I wanted to finish somewhere between 4:30 and 5. Using 4:30 as a baseline made for easier math than using 4:45. I also decided I was going to begin the race with the 4:30 pace team in spite of PTBG's complete lack of info, see how it felt, and then make adjustments if I wasn't loving it.

After the expo, Laura and I had a thrilling evening of doing absolutely nothing, taking a Tylenol PM, and going to bed at 9:30pm. Saturday morning we had our team run, which would be a quick 20 minute jaunt around Phoenix, followed by some stretching and whatnot. It felt chilly at first, and the temp said only 55 degrees I think, so I had on a jacket, running shirt, and long capris. My teammates were dressed similarly. Not 5 minutes into the run, layers started coming off and everyone was sweating. We were fooled by the initial feel of the air - it was indeed hot, and getting hotter with each step. I start panicking in my head, being careful not to share my terror with others. San Diego was hot and sunny, and San Diego destroyed my running soul. I can't go through that again, I thought, I just can't.

Team Picture. In front of Hooters.

 So we went and stretched and took team pictures (in front of the Hooters...), and then Laura and I again spent the day doing basically nothing. We went back to the expo to get a fuel belt for me - I should've brought it from home, but I didn't think I was going to want to run with it, and then I changed my mind. See, all these "Rock n Roll" races are sponsored by Cyotmax. Cytomax is the devil's sports drink - it tastes horrible, and has none of what I need during a race (salt, sugar, and electrolytes). It just doesn't get the job done. I decided I would fill a fuel belt with just gatorade, and use the gatorade if I needed it. And worst case scenario, if the fuel belt bugged me, I would just rip it off and toss it on the side of the road.

Saturday evening was the inspiration dinner. When you walk in, the coaches are cheering and screaming for you, which is so much fun. Then inside the ballroom, a slide show is presenting slides of our personal honorees from all around the country.My heart pretty much stopped when I saw the slide I'd made for Grandpa. When you see something like that, especially displayed so hugely in front of that many people, and you see this massive "In Memory of" preceding your message, it feels like a dagger to the heart, you know? I don't think there will ever come a time where that doesn't happen. I missed Grandpa so much in that moment.

My slide at the Inspiration Dinner

The inspiration dinner got started, where John "the Penguin" Bingham emceed, and our very own Team Coach was named the #1 corporate team, having raised over $100,000 this season. Erin Cluney, one of my mentees and my longtime friend from BU, is the Coach team captain! I am so proud of her, they really rocked it. After some recognition, this former Olympic runner got up there and talked for what felt like 7 hours.

Matt Parrot

He had a dry humor that I found hilarious, but 10 minutes of him would've been more than enough. When he was finally through, my mentee and lymphoma patient, Matt Parrott, got to give the key note speech.
It was amazing seeing him up there in front of the thousands in the audience, and the way he talks about his cancer is always with a hope that things are gonna get better. We're going to find a cure, we're on the right path, we'll get there. He's just awesome, I was so proud watching him speak.

We had our quick team meeting where people shared their last minute mission moments, including a special one from Coach Steve, who was diagnosed with leukemia as a toddler, and one from our social captain Dana, who spoke about her grandmother. She remembered my mission moment from San Diego about Grandpa, and she feels that connection. We got some last minute advice from the coaches, and then it was up to the rooms, and Laura and I were almost immediately in bed (once again at 9:30pm). Now, the night before San Diego I didn't sleep at all. Literally, not for one minute. In Phoenix, I fell asleep pretty quickly and slept pretty damn well, by some miracle of god. I woke up, dare I say it, well rested! Race singlets were on, arms were fully decorated in permanent market, and throw away clothes were layered. We. Were. READY. Laura then said to me "I have a feeling this is gonna be your race, Rach. I can just feel it." I quickly knocked on wood and we headed out.

My Singlet

Sarah, me, and Laura

We took a bunch of race day pics in the lobby of the hotel and then boarded the bus to the start line. The energy on the bus was calm but excited, if that makes any sense. It was the ideal hybrid. We had some time to kill before dropping our bags, so a few of us planted ourselves under this tree next to a parking lot and hung out for a bit while the sun came up. Coach Peter got some amazing pictures.

TNTers pre-race

I'm glad it wasn't a video, because the conversation was about getting Gabby to the portapotty to go #2, and how Michael Conlon had just peed like 15 feet away from us, using his plastic garbage bag poncho as a shield.

Finally we were ready to drop bags and head over, so we followed Michael Conlon, since we do everything he says, anyway. About 10 minutes later we get to the end of a separate portapotty area, and we see no start line. That's right, Michael Conlon led us in the exact opposite direction of where we needed to be! The time was now 7:33am - the gun was set to be at 7:40am. That left us with 7 minutes to get to the start line, get into our corrals, get various belts and gear situated, take our salt, and say a few last minute prayers. I slammed into my corral, weaseled my way over toward the 4:30 pace group, slapped on my belt, and we were off. Only 6,000 people were running the full (24,000 running the half), so there was only a 2 minute wait to get across the start line. I had to salt during mile 1. Oops.

The first 10 miles of the race went by in a blur. We quickly shed our throwaway clothes to the side of the road, since it wasn't super cold out. Boom, mile 1 done. For the next few miles, Danelle, our pace team leader, was fairly chatty, as was this older gentleman who ran with us, so their conversation kept me entertained and distracted. We passed a group of belly dancers at mile 2 who were, well, let's just say NOT in shape, which was also both entertaining and distracting. I was keeping an eye on our pace most of the time - having been a pace group leader all season for 10:30, that feels natural. Danelle should've been running 10:18 miles the entire way through (that's what a 4:30 marathon is, per mile). Danelle, bless her heart, did not run 10:18 miles. She decided we were going to run 10:05s so that we could take a couple walking steps at the water stops. A couple walking steps takes an absolute max of 3 seconds. Therefore, she could've held a 10:15 pace and been just fine keeping us on track. The reason I mention this is that there is a big ass difference between running 10:18s for several hours and running 10:05s for several hours. She should've been clear from the get go that that was the plan.

After about mile 10 a bunch of us were like "Alright, enough of this, let's hang back". I wasn't mentally annoyed or frustrated or anything, I wasn't in pain, and I didn't feel as though I was working too hard, but I didn't want to let it get to that point before I smartened up. Some kind of warning signal went off inside my cerebellum and I wasn't about to ignore it. At the half way point I was at 2:16. If I'd kept up my pacing exactly like that, that would put me at a 4:32 marathon. But, I backed off a little and decided to hold a delightful 10:30 pace, but fully walk the water stations from there on out, so I could conserve energy.  It takes anywhere from 30 seconds to about a minute to walk the water stations, so I knew my overall times would start increasing, but I knew I was having a good race and that walking those stops wasn't going to hurt me too much.

Bliner - Saver from Walls

The first 14 miles were full of long straightaways -and not too many spectators - but I'd managed to keep my shit together from a mental standpoint. Then at mile 15 it was starting to get a little tough, I was starting to question what the hell I was doing, and then like an oasis in the desert, Rachel Bliner appeared on the side of the road to run with me. I told her I was happy to see her, but that I didn't want to talk. So she ran with me in silence for a good chunk, probably almost a mile. It was exactly what I needed - I was about to start approaching a wall, and she saved me from it.

A half mile down the way was coach Ross, who excitedly jumped in with me. The night prior, Ross told us if we didn't feel like chatting with him, we should just let him know. So I said "HEY Ross! I don't want to talk, I just want to run." He ran a silent few steps with me and then said "Alright look for Pam up ahead, doin great!". I didn't mean I didn't want him there, I just meant that I didn't want to have to have a conversation with him. Oh well. I looked for Pam at mile 16. Nada. I thought maybe she's at mile 17. No Pam. I thought about Matt's speech the night before; one point he made was that at some point during the race, you'll hit the moment where you KNOW you're going to finish. It may come at mile 20, it may come 5 steps before the finish line, but it will come - and there's no greater feeling of relief! I get to mile 18 and I check my watch, and that was the moment I knew I was going to go sub 5 no matter what happened during the rest of this race. I was so excited - but I was still Pam-less!

I approached mile 19 and about 50 feet ahead of me I see a sign that says "GO RACH!" and I hear a bunch of screaming midwesterners. It was Laura's family, the Beckloffs, who had waited for me to go by them so they could cheer me on. It warmed my heart that they stayed out there just for me after they'd seen Laura go by. They are so fantastic, and they pumped me up. I hit mile 20 and I did a biiiig exhale. The time on my watch was 3:37. That meant I had an hour and 23 minutes to run the final 10K. My normal 10K time at easy running pace is around 1:03. I had a 20 minute buffer. That meant I could slow my pace considerably, probably stop to use the bathroom, make a phone call, or walk backward, and I'd still get in under 5. I was so damn happy, nothing was gonna kill my smile. I gave up on seeing Pam, and we finally came upon Coach Peter, who ran with my mentee Eunice for a very long time. Eunice and I decided to run our marathon together, but not have to talk to each other, and not have to stay side by side in lockstep the whole way. She'd pull ahead by like 20 feet, then I'd pull ahead the same way. It went this way the entire race. At that point, she was ahead, and Peter was stickin with her. There are reasons for this, none of which I'll mention on this blog so as not to embarrass the involved parties, but I happily followed behind them, sunshine coming straight out my ass. I was the happiest girl out there.

I breezed past coach Michelle, who was smiling and said "Lookin great Rach! Keep it up!" I said "I'm good! See you at the finish!". The early 20s then seemed to crawl. I was walking longer at the water stations, and I could feel the difference in progress - but I was still moving, I was still happy, and I still knew I would hit sub 5.

Then came mile 24 - the only incline in this entire race - and it was a highway overpass. I got halfway up the overpass and I saw my darling, coach Jason, hopping down the ramp to come run with his favorite girl. In San Diego, I was giving Jason the look of death. I couldn't say anything, I just angrily stared at him like I wanted to kill him. I promised him smiles in Phoenix, and I delivered on that promise. I was happy, I was smiling, and I was psyched to see him. I still didn't want to talk, which he was cool with, and we just ran along together for a bit, me enjoying every step. I had less than 2 miles to go now, and I had a sweet downhill coming, and I was owning this race.

The last mile and a half flew by. There was this really stupid band at mile 25.5 and the guy on the microphone kept yellin" Only 1 mile left!!!" Except, math major, we had about a half mile left. His yelling enraged a lot of runners, including one gentleman who was very close to me, who yelled "HEY ASSHOLE! IT'S ONLY A HALF MILE!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" I laughed to myself - you could've told me Sarah Palin was just elected Queen of the World at that moment and I wouldn't have cared, I was high on life.

I rounded those last few twists and turns, and there it was - THE FINISH. I saw a big yellow banner, heard the roar of the crowd, and started bee-lining it. I heard someone screaming my name and I looked to my left and saw my darlings Steve Russolillo and Shelly Banjo yelling "GO RACHEL!!!" I turned to them and screamed "I'M HAVING THE FUCKING RACE OF MY LIFE!!!" and they threw their hands in the air and were like "HELL YEAH!!!". It was awesome. I then dead sprinted for the finish. Kevin Rudolph "Let It Rock" was blasting over the loud speaker. The lyrics are "Because when I arrive I bring the fire, make you come alive" and holy SHIT did I feel alive!!! I threw my fists in the air and then slapped my watch like an asshole - you should never slap your watch right away, as I told all my mentees, because your race finish photo will be of you looking down at your wrist. And yeah, clearly I didn't pay attention to my own advice...

Finish Picture Fail

BUT WHATEVER, BECAUSE I FINISHED IN 4:52!!!!!!!! I have never in my entire life been that proud of myself. I went sub 5, and I actually had a great time during the race. Who AM I?!?!? I took my race photo with my darling Jimmy, checked in with the TNT tent, and celebrated with all my lovies. I could not stop smiling, and could not stop telling people about my race - I'm sure it was THE most annoying thing ever, and I do not care. I earned that celebration. And for me, it's not just about the race or the finish time. I felt like I sufficiently honored Grandpa. In San Diego, the race itself was just god awful. I barely survived it. That wasn't how I wanted to pay tribute to him. In Phoenix, I triumphed. THAT is the tribute that Grandpa deserves.

Jimmy and Me, with our cactus medals

All throughout the race, when it started to feel even the slightest bit difficult, I looked to the sky. At times I even whispered to myself, "Come on Grandpa, stay with me," and each time I felt things start to ease. I don't care if everyone around me was like "Don't run near the weird girl talking to herself..." - it was working. I felt like I was flying, and I have no doubt that my soul was flying on Grandpa's angel wings.

So, after the race we were talking, and my friend Jimmy joked that at mile 18 he would've signed a contract that said he'd never run another marathon- and a couple weeks ago, I would've signed that same contract. Even on race morning I was talking with Michael Conlon, and I told him Phoenix would be my swan song. But, my race went amazingly well, and if all marathons felt like that, I'd keep doing them forever. So.... I'm considering running Chicago this fall. I know, I need to be committed - I seriously can't even believe I just typed that. It's not coached by Michael Conlon, and it involves running through the summer heat, and it's another MARATHON, but... they aren't kidding when people say this crap is addictive. Plus, the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society does so much good. It's hard to not want to be a part of that forever. So, tentatively plan on Chicago 2011. And then tentatively plan on the New York Home for the Clinically Insane.

In the mean time, I have some serious THANKS to give, and I wanted to name some special mentions:

1. Abby Karpinski - Abby is my physical therapist, and that woman is a damn miracle worker. I didn't feel my post-tib injury at all during the marathon. And any time I have any type of injury, however mild or obscure, she always knows exactly what it is, and she always fixes it. I don't know how she does it, but she is awesome. She also had me on this rigorous strength training program. Every muscle in the lower half of my body was worked hardcore twice a week; I have the most comprehensive program out of anyone who goes to my PT office, and it paid off big time in Phoenix. I owe so much of my success to her.

2. My Family - My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are the most amazing people. We had quite the shit year in 2010. Grandpa was our patriarch, he unified us all, and losing him delivered a blow we were unprepared for. We're all still grieving, still adjusting, still hurting. Almost every single collection of families within our larger family came through with donations and/or well wishes for me for this race, to honor the man we all loved, admired, and revered. Only they can relate to what I've been through this year, and their support means the most to me.

3. My Coaches - We are spoiled rotten by the TNT coaches in NYC. Not all the other chapters get such amazing people who truly know their shit. Every single coach we have is experienced, resourceful, and a genuinely KICKASS person. Michael, Peter, Jason, Pam, Steve, Dari, Ross, Michelle, Christie, Debbie, Bethenny, Doug, and even Parksy, who only made guest appearances this season, you are the best. I don't ever want to run without you guys!!

Then, I have special shout outs for Michael Conlon and Jason Fleischer. I told MC I'd follow him into a pit of fire, as previously mentioned, and I mean it. He has never steered me wrong and I hold him in the highest regard when it comes to the business of marathoning. He is so generous to all of us, opening up his home in New Paltz, organizing really cool runs (like the GWB run and the Triple Bypass), and opening up Finish Line (his physical therapy office) to us all the time for whatever we need. He even lets me run on the Alter G for free, and that bad boy ain't cheap. There's no one else I'd rather learn from than him. And Jason, my darling Jason. At the beginning of the season, I asked Jason to be on my ass during Wednesday night practices. When he was screaming at me while I was racing repeats up Harlem Hill, I wasn't exactly loving him, but it all paid off. I wasn't flying under the radar, he kept me honest and he kept me working. And it paid off tremendously. Right before the Philly half I had a mental freakout, and he gave me the world's best advice and put everything in perspective. He is so wise.

4. Laura Beckloff - My first TNT friend ever (we met day 1 of practice for San Diego!). All season long we leaned on each other for support, comisery, pep talks, and full on freakouts. She was my roomie out in Phoenix, and she and I created the most zen atmosphere ever for the weekend. There was no anxiety, no obligations to do anything, and it was the most low maintenance marathon weekend ever. I don't think that would've happened under any other circumstances. I have no doubt it had huge impacts on my race.

5. Steph Zimmering and Christine Talbot - I met Steph and Christine at their respective info sessions way back in August. They both become very good friends of mine, and their enthusiasm and excitement helped me to remain as enthusiastic and excited as possible throughout the season. Every time I was feeling a little jaded or generally "over it", Christine would be like "Oh my god, I just ran 16 miles!!!!" or Steph would be like "Um, I just kicked the GWB's ass," and it completely reinvigorated me. Their spirit is just awesome, and I think the world of both. They helped make my season what it was.

And most importantly, my Grandpa. He is single handedly the best inspiration there is to do anything - I don't care if it's a hot dog eating contest, if Grandpa inspires you to do it, there is no "I can't", there is no "Eh I don't feel like finishing". Grandpa moves people, he puts them in motion, he gets them to act. And for him, I'd do anything. When I first registered for this season, I had to put down "In Memory of" instead of "In Honor of". That cut me right to the core. I miss him every single day, and I think about him constantly. In all contexts. All. The. Time. He is very much a part of my life. So much of my decision making reflects his influence, his ideals, his thought process - and truthfully a lot of my bigger-picture thinking is very much in line with wanting to be someone he would be proud of. These marathons are my living, breathing tribute to the person that he was. I carry his heart in mine - and I carry it with pride. We always said he was larger than life, and he is proving us right even in death. Much of my world will forever include him.


When I finished my San Diego season, I was addressing Grandpa directly, and I said "Now let's go beat that cancer." While maybe we couldn't physically beat Grandpa's cancer before it took him from us, I think we're still in the process of beating it on the larger scale. So I sincerely thank you for reading this season, I absolutely loved writing, and dare I say, I even loved running. Collectively now, let's all go beat that cancer.

Nothing Left To Do But Run

Here we are. Race weekend is upon us, nervous energy is aplenty, and it's officially go time.

It's amazing how much time, energy, blood, sweat, and tears you spend over an extended period of time for an event that lasts only a few hours. Four-plus months of running, strengthening, stretching, icing, through the heat, through the wind, through the snow, through the ice, through training highs and training lows, through long (seemingly never-ending) runs to sprints to hill repeats. All that hard work, that dedication, that sacrifice, for a few hours' worth of experience - and a painful few hours, at that.

Almost all runners are Type A, or at least have Type A tendencies - we control every possible thing that we can control, and the rest is up to the marathon gods. So, in an effort to help us all out on race day, I've written up a little marathon prayer for all my loves:

Dear marathon gods,

Thank you for blessing us with these vessels through which we take on this monumental endeavor. We know that not everyone is fortunate enough or physically well enough to be able to take part in marathoning, and we realize that this is a privilege to be out there. Please be with us as we take on our 26.2 miles. Help us to be smart, take care of ourselves, and stick to our race plans. Give us the confidence to know that we can do this, and when the race gets tough, smack us in the face with that confidence - and smack us HARD.

Help us to remember that we chose to do this (and some of us even paid a lot of money to do this); this is a choice, this is something we want to do.  Help us to have strong legs, and even stronger heads and hearts. We pray for no leg cramps for Jimmy this time around. When we hit the wall, help us to climb over it, army-barrack style, with no mercy. And when we hit a bad mental space, when we seriously question what the hell we're doing out there, help us to remember that this is about so much more than a marathon. We often joke when we're going for an easier workout that "we're not trying to change the world today." On race day, we ARE actually changing the world. Help us to remember that we are heroes in our own right, and help us keep those we run for at the forefront of our minds.

God bless Grandpa, and all the good he has instilled in me, all the lessons he has taught me, all the gifts he has given me, and help me fulfill my promise to him to never give up. Help me to make him proud. God bless everyone else who we have lost to this insidious disease, help us to feel their spirit with every step, and to feel the spirit of those who continue the fight here on earth.

Help us to remember how many people we have pushing for us - friends, family, co-workers, boyfriends, girlfriends, acquaintances, stalkers, one night stands, classmates. We are no doubt a summation of their love, support, and generosity, both of wallet and of soul. We would not have gotten to the startling line without them. Help us all to make them proud too.

And if you could throw in even the gentlest tailwind, that would be fucking sweet.

Amen.
- Your NYC TNT Marathoners

Happiest Runners on Earth

This weekend was the first event weekend for our season, and it was the Disney marathon and half. A third of our team headed down to Orlando and they were ready to rock! The half marathon is actually held the day before the half, so we got to hear amazing success stories throughout the day yesterday. I'd met this one guy, Justin, at kickoff, and he was so funny. He refers to gu as "glue", and when I asked him what his race goals were he said "To not die during the damn thing." Not only did he get through the race, he ran the entire way AND he did it under 2:30. So. Freakin. Awesome.

Then today it was onto the full marathoners. The race started at 5:35am, so I got my ass up at 6am so I'd be able to track all my babies real time. I got everybody plugged into the website, and then I set the page to refresh every 1 minute - although that was nowhere near frequent enough for me, apparently, because I kept violently hitting the refresh button each time someone approached the next checkpoint. I also had Steph, my TNT love who got injured, giving me updates from the actual finish line down in Orlando. It was quite the morning :)

First through was Nelson, a first time marathoner who lives and breathes TNT. He was so damn excited for this race, and put everything into it. Then was Cat, one of my pace group babies, who is so damn funny and enthusiastic and just an awesome person to have around. She finished just behind Nelson. Then was Wei, another pace group baby, who apparently came through with the world's biggest smile on her face, as did Jen Samson not too far behind her. Then there was Christine, who I just adore. Christine and I met during her TNT info session, which I was volunteering at. Throughout the season we became good buds. She and I met up to do our Tuesday runs every week for the majority of the season. She's a great runner, despite some serious pain in her heels, and she's super positive without being annoying about it. She crossed that finish line crying and smiling with her hands in the air, exactly how a person should finish such a monumental race. I am so proud of her, and so excited that she did it. She had the world's best facebook status update afterward: "Shut the front door. I just RAN A MARATHON!!! it was awesome and I rocked and I'm definitely the coolest person you know!!!"

Then it was all about Wendy. The reason the half marathon is the day prior to the full marathon in Disney is because they have something called the Goofy Challenge, where you run the half marathon Saturday AND the full marathon Sunday, for a total of 39.3 miles - not for the faint of heart. It's certifiably insane - and Wendy did it. Back in September when she announced that she was going to go for it, we all thought she was nuts. Who would want to put themselves through that kind of hell? Plus she'd never run a full marathon before, and it didn't sound like a good idea to try it as part of the Goofy Challenge. But, Wendy has this indomitable spirit, she decided she was going to go for it, and she tore that shit UP - Minnie Mouse costume and all :) Out. Of. Control. What an amazing chick.

I'm so proud and psyched to welcome all my TNT lovies into the "I survived a marathon" club, and I am sufficiently inspired and excited for my own race next week.

Cat

Christine

Jen

Nelson

Wei

Wendy

The Symbolism of the Phoenix

So this season, TNT offered 3 races: Disney, Phoenix, and Miami. The reason I initially chose Phoenix actually goes back to San Diego. James and I took the same flight back to NY, and as we headed from the gate to the cab line at JFK, James said his next race was going to be Phoenix. So, power of suggestion: boom - registered for Phoenix.

Over the months, and especially through the events of last summer, I started to realize that the symbolism of Phoenix is actually pretty powerful in my life. Back in the late 60s, my Grandpa, along with my Grandma and some of their friends, were growing dissatisfied with the direction the Catholic church was heading in. So, to address their concerns and needs, they started something called the Floating Parish. It was a contemporary idiom for religious celebration - any and all religions were welcome, families were welcome, there were no rules or restrictions, there were no rigid forms or customs, no formal agenda; it was an open exchange of ideas. They just wanted a place to share in religious celebration with anyone who wanted to join. It was a pretty progressive thing, especially at the time, but that was always Grandpa's way.

Around that same time there was also a place in Worcester called the Phoenix, where all were welcome to come have free and peaceful exchanges of ideas (religious, political, or otherwise). To honor that camaraderie, the symbol that they chose for the Floating Parish was that of a Phoenix. The logo itself was actually originally designed by a great friend of the family, whose last name I unfortunately can't spell, but it's something like Stecynski.

For those unfamiliar, a phoenix is a mythical bird who lives to be a thousand years old, and then upon its death it bursts into flames and is reborn. It's a symbol of immortality, of everlasting. And that symbol is what Grandpa wanted to be painted on his coffin.

In my family, the boys build the coffin for their father. My Grandpa built his father's coffin, and my uncles built my Grandpa's coffin. It was beautifully done - they're all architects and builders, so it was in their wheelhouse. Uncle John did the actual building, and the others had a hand in design or other touches. We stored it in the basement at Grandpa's house in the early summer, and he saw it and approved the design and finished product. I realize that sounds weird, but it was important to him that he had input for his final resting place. It was also important for him to retain control of the things he could, because he had no control over the disease and what was happening to his body. The finished product was very Grandpa - natural wood, beautiful finish, nautical handles purchased on the Cape, and the Phoenix painted on the lid.

So, I share this with you not to be morbid or weird, but to show how it all comes together. Some may think this is merely a matter of coincidence, but I believe it's another example of how intrinsically connected Grandpa and I are, and forever will be.

Happy Little Run

Tonight was the most surprisingly delightful run ever. The delight came out of nowhere, like a ninja in the dead of night. We were scheduled to do a tempo run tonight, but with the injury I'm trying to take it easy until race day so I get to that start line as healthy as humanly possible. I knew I'd be doing an easy run, but I wasn't sure how far I was going to make it, or how much pain I was going to be in.

Rachel Bliner, who I ran a bunch of Wednesday GTSs with back in the fall before she got injured, was there and she also wanted to run easy. Typically Rachel + Rachel is an amazing formula for success, and tonight that rang truer than ever. We had the best time tooling around Central Park, gossiping about pretty much everything. Some guy was running about 15 feet behind us the whole way - he probably has enough info on us to steal our identities or at the very least severely blackmail us, should he desire. But, no matter - it was awesome to catch up with her, and awesome to run with her again. I'm hoping once she's slightly more healed we'll be able to train for a half together. I'm thinking Brooklyn half in May fo sho. I'm already registered for Nations half in March (suck on that, NYC half!) which I'm training for with my friend Dom, but I think that's too soon for Rachel's injury.

I'm rambling. Bottom line, tonight rocked, Rachel B rocks, and I'm actually feeling pretty damn excited to run this race. PHOENIX WATCH YO BACK!!!

The Alter G Alters Lives

So, I've been injured. I haven't blogged about it yet because I didn't want to make a "thing" out of it, but about a week and a half ago I got sharp pains in my shins and calves during this god awful 15K race in Central Park. It was an early race (8am) and it was a really cold day, so at first I figured I was just tight from that. Both shins, both calves, and my left piriformis were in so much pain, and it only got worse over the course of the 15K. I was running easy during the race, and afterward walking was pretty painful, so I knew something was wrong.

In the PT world they call it "post-tib" - it's an issue with my posterior tibial muscle and tendon. It's inflamed and feels like the back of my shin bone is stabbed when I step down on the right side. Less than ideal, to say the least. My PT is stretching me, massaging me (which hurts like HELL), gave me exercises to do, and is doing stim and ice with each visit, which appears to be helping. I rested for 4 days straight (which is hell for someone training for a marathon...) and I'd planned to try an easy run Sunday and a long run Monday, but then it came: snowmageddon 2010. I have to say, this city has done a really crappy job of managing the snow - my neighborhood STILL isn't plowed, and it's been more than 48 hours since it stopped. Weak sauce, NYC.

The Alter G

I have been in contact with coach Michael Conlon to see what I should do, since running outside wasn't an option, and he said he'd let me run on the Alter G. What's the Alter G? Well at this point I'm calling it a goddamn miracle worker, but that's not technically what it is. It's a treadmill that uses differential air pressure to lift part of your body weight as you run. You put on these ridiculous looking shorts that zip into the machine while you're in them, and then the air pressure removes whatever portion of your weight you want it to. I ran at 80% of my body weight and it was heaven - the pain was at about a 3 or 4 to start and went down to a 2 or 1 within a few minutes. About half way through there was no pain at all. I got to run for about 75 minutes at 9:30 pace, and felt so so great. Of course, I now want to lose 20% of my bodyweight and run like that all the time!

Walking around after I got off the Alter G, there was actually still no pain, and I woke up this morning feeling better. I think a combo of rehabbing on that bad boy, doing my PT exercises, getting the massage/stretching, getting the stim, and icing, I just might be OK for race day.

This season has been chock freaking FULL of injuries. My darling Steph, who I did that mud run with, found out last week she has stress fractures, is now in a boot, and can't run for at least 6 weeks. No Disney marathon for her. Layla made it only 5 miles last week during her final long run before her IT bands and hips shat out on her. She's most likely deferring to NYC marathon this fall. And the heartbreaker: Kate Latti, who started our San Diego season but had to drop due to a knee injury, now has a hip stress fracture and can't run for 12 weeks. No Phoenix marathon for her. Two seasons in a row, two bad injuries, no marathons run. Several others were scheduled to do the full but have had to drop back to the half (Rachel Bliner, Lauren Sanders, etc), and so I'm just hoping to make it to that starting line as healthy as humanly possible.

WE DID IT!!!!

Holy crap, y'all, we have officially met my fundraising goal for this season!!!! To everyone who donated, I want to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!! And then I want to say it again!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! My extra special thanks to Peter Dick, Gail Davis, Kelly Reiter, Sandy Doyle, and my very own Grandma (Marjory Dick) for putting me over the top.

You know, when you first embark on something like this, you never really know what to expect. You hope you can count on your friends, family, and co-workers, but it's not that straightforward. People may be non-responsive, they may be forgetful, they may not believe in donating money, they may support other charities, or hell, they may be just plain broke. I am beyond fortunate to have supportive, loving, engaged, and not-completely-broke people in my life who are willing to contribute to something that I am so passionate about - some for the second time this year. When I say I couldn't do this without you, I sincerely mean it. Without your donations, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society wouldn't exist, there would be no Team in Training, and I would never have had this opportunity to support, and ultimately pay tribute to, my hero: my Grandpa.

Last season I raised $4,151, and this season I'm up to $2,323. In addition to cutting-edge research, have a look at some examples of where that $6,474 goes:

• Registers 129 people to become bone marrow donors
• Covers 260 patients' chemo drug prescription co-pays
• Trains 540 peer volunteers who provide emotional support to newly diagnosed cancer patients
• Provides 13 leukemia patients with patient aid for an entire year




LLS Spending Breakdown

 

One of the most well known contributions by LLS-funded research is Gleevec, which is a drug used to treat CML (chronic mylogenous leukemia). CML is distinguished by a presence of the "Philadelphia Chromosome". A whopping 82% of CML patients achieve a full cytogenetic response when taking Gleevec, meaning there are NO remaining cells that have the Philadelphia chromosome - which is the goal of the therapy. It came out about 8 years ago, and now it's a staple in most CML treatment plans.

I hope you all realize that your money may be funding the next big break through, the next big treatment, or even the actual cure. I also hope you all know what you mean to me. I have never felt so loved and so supported; equally as important, I have reinvigorated faith in the ability of a small group of people to have a big impact, and for people to show up when I really need them to. You are all so wonderful, and I am simply lucky to be in each of your orbits.

Action, Charity, Effort, Love

After spending this week in London, I got back to NY late last night, and was dreading the early wake up call this morning for GTS. I am running a 15K tomorrow (plus a run before that to make sure I get enough mileage in), so I only had to do 5 miles today - knowing that it would be a much less painful day helped get me out of bed and off to practice.

The other thing that helped was that I'd planned to run today's miles for Brian Schultz. If you've been following my blog, you know that Brian is the cousin of one of my San Diego TNT teammates, Sarah Stafford. Sadly, Brian succumbed to sarcoma on December 11th, just 2 days after his 33rd birthday. My heart goes out to his family, especially his wife and baby daughter - I hope they're taking solace in the fact that he's no longer in pain, and finding some way to get through this so close to the holidays.

So today I showed up to GTS for Grandpa and for Brian. Before we ran, Erin MacBeth, one of the TNT coordinators, told us that not one, but TWO of our TNTers had been found as bone marrow matches as a result of a bone marrow donor registration drive that we all attended back in October. That's two families whose prayers may have been answered, just in time for Christmas. Powerful stuff.

I ran my miles and came back to get my bag, and someone had attached a note of thanks on it. It said:

If that little voice in your head starts telling you "this is too hard," please remember the words of our own Peter Macaluso, a past TNT participant who lost his battle with leukemia on September 16, 2004.

"...there may come a time where you wonder: is what I am doing making a difference? When you're on your last miles of a marathon, or of a hundred mile cycling course, or trying to make it the last yards to shore in a tri... and you wonder: am I making a difference? Is it worth it? Come celebrate with me, 'cause the answer is a resounding YES!! I have no choice, but you do, all of you. And you've chosen action over complacency, charity over selfishness, effort over easiness, a life of love over a life of indifference."

I will always choose action, charity, effort, and love - for Peter, and most importantly, for Grandpa.

The Triple Bypass for Grandpa

Today was the infamous Triple Bypass run. For those of you unfamiliar, you run the Brooklyn bridge, the Manhattan bridge, and the Williamsburg bridge (and then of course you have to run BACK across the Williamsburg bridge...) as part of a 3 hour run. It's bananas. Last season I had a particularly hard run that day. I don't know what it was exactly, but it didn't feel good at all. Today felt 97 kinds of amazing.

We started off at Finish Line (Michael Conlon's physical therapy outfit) so we were warm and sheltered from any NY winter elements. Coach Christie got us started with her mission moment, which was first about her Dad, who is currently hanging onto remission, and then about her great friend Josie who passed away on Christmas eve of last year. Incredibly inspiring, and she speaks so beautifully. Then, it was my turn.

That's right - I decided to do my mission moment today. Last season, as you may recall, it took me all the way until the day before the race to get it out - but this season, as I'm the mission captain, I wanted to tell my story in front of the entire team, in an environment where it would hopefully give them some inspiration or motivation for a particularly tough run.

I once again cried throughout the entire thing like a huge asshole, but it's important to me that the team members know how special Grandpa is to me, and how much inspiration he has given me, and how special TNT is to me as a channel of paying tribute to my hero. I got through my story, and then during the run people actually used the story to keep them going. Lauren and Sarah yelled out "Miles for Grandpa!!!" at the top of one of the bridges, and then one of my mentees Eunice was having a tough time around mile 14, and she said "I want you to know that all I'm thinking about right now is your grandfather." That's what Grandpa does... he unifies everyone, he inspires and motivates, he reminds you to always believe, to keep going, and to never give up. I am so proud to be his granddaughter.

While he's not physically present on this spiritual plane any more, today he was there with every single one of us. And like a triple bypass lifts stress off the heart, today's triple bypass lifted my spirit. It felt amazing, for mind, body, and soul.

May She Rest

In a sad irony, after writing about Elizabeth Edwards yesterday, I came home tonight to pull up the news and see that she had passed away earlier today. May she rest peacefully, and may she be remembered for her courage, grace, and indomitable spirit.

One Hell of a Run, One Hell of a Cause

This Saturday was frigging amazing. Finally, a run where I felt strong, light on my feet, and most importantly, lighthearted. My love Lauren Sanders got us started with her mission moment about her wonderful friend Derrick, who fought one hell of a cancer battle - one that she continues to fight, as he has left this world. Derrick died 2 years ago today at the age of 23. Yes, t-w-e-n-t-y-t-h-r-e-e. Heartbreaking.

I think it really reminded me why we're out there. Lauren is on her 3rd season with TNT and she is a very strong runner. But beyond that, she gets what it's really all about - and I needed to be reminded. Her energy and positivity is infectious and I just think she's 47 kinds of fabulous, and I am so grateful that she had the courage to get up there and share her story. Derrick sounds like he was almost TOO awesome, and clearly his light shines on in Lauren. To read more about Derrick's story, go here: http://www.djdully.blogspot.com/

It's amazing what your body will do when your heart is full. I took my 10:30 pace group out and we had the most fun, amazing run down and up the west side highway. We were laughing, we were talking, we weren't complaining, and we were kicking some ASS. We did about 11 miles as a group, and then for the last 5 we split up and I ran them with Steph in the park. They were tough, especially with the hills, but I felt like a frigging superstar at the end.

Then today I went to yoga, which was surprisingly delightful. I'm starting to suck a little less at downward dog (it's been my nemesis for years) and we hit some really spicy stretches that my legs desperately needed. I came home, made myself a healthy fajita, and opened up my computer to read the news from today. I saw that Elizabeth Edwards, a pillar of strength and grace, has stopped responding to treatment. The article said her cancer metastasized to her liver and then there is that horrible phrase: there's nothing more they can do. The prognosis, they say, is weeks, rather than months, and that's a phrase I know all too well. I also know it could be closer to days - you never know what that goddamn disease is going to do.

I think she has been an inspiration in many ways - how she handled her disease, how she handled her douche of a husband (if a guy treated me like that and then had the wherewithal to treat his mistress like shit too, I'd take a dull butter knife to the jugular), and now how she is handling her limited time remaining. She left a message via her Facebook page:

"You all know that I have been sustained throughout my life by three saving graces – my family, my friends, and a faith in the power of resilience and hope. These graces have carried me through difficult times and they have brought more joy to the good times than I ever could have imagined. The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human.

"But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful. It isn't possible to put into words the love and gratitude I feel to everyone who has and continues to support and inspire me every day. To you I simply say: you know."

We should all be so lucky to have half the grace she has. And we should all heed her words - living with hope, trying to have a positive impact in the world, that's what makes life all the more worthwhile.

I'm proud to be part of an organization that tries to have a positive impact every single day. I hope you're proud for donating to one - and if you haven't already, it's not too late to make a positive impact yourself.

The F*cking 5K

Fair warning: I have a BAD attitude today. And when I say bad, I mean B-A-D. Tonight we had to run the Peter Niessen 5K again. Peter is one of our fabulous TNT coaches, and each season Michael Conlon names this god awful 5K after one of the coaches. I have to say up front I mean no offense or disrespect to Peter, it's not his fault we have to run the damn thing. I was pissed off all day that we had to do this race - I was dreading it and just getting more and more angry that I had to run it. In fact, I was pissed off last week, when Michael Conlon reminded us we had to run this today - so pissed off that I renamed it the Peter Niessen F*cking 5K.

What makes this 5K so awful? Let's start with the course. First mile: downhill. Awesome. Second mile: a series of long, rolling hills down the west side. Ew. Third mile (plus the .1): ends on the top of Cat Hill. Sadistic.

Then there is the fact that it's a race. The coaches always say "You're only racing against yourself." Ummm, bullshit. If that was the case, we'd all run this course on our own and report our times anonymously. We are racing against everyone, and it really sucks when you see people flying by you. It makes me want to trip them. I warned you, BAD ATTITUDE.

Then there is the unexpected: a frigging raccoon - yes, a RACCOON - crossed our path just before the 2nd mile marker (and by "marker" I mean Michael Conlon drew on the street with purple chalk). Are you kidding me?

All that said, tonight went better than I expected. I decided ahead of time to do a tempo pace and not try to go all out. Partly due to fear of failure, partly due to my bad attitude, and partly because I didn't want to go out too fast and blowup on the west side hills. I don't know whether to declare it a victory, but I will say it wasn't entirely a defeat this time. At this point, I'll take it.

As Laura and I were walking back to the subway and debriefing our 5K of doom, she mentioned a conversation she'd had with Layla about how hard this season has been. Layla said "You know what's harder than running a marathon? Running your 2nd marathon." That shit is profound. And insanely accurate. You know what to expect, you know it's going to suck, and it's kind of like what people say about tattoos and childbirth, how you forget how bad it hurts, so you go back for round 2. Now that we're deep into the season, we're being reminded of how bad it hurts, and we know just how miserable that last 6.2 is. It's really really really hard because it's physically demanding and mentally it's hard to stay positive - exhibit A, my current disposition - and my lovely Layla is right. This is hard as shit.

The Race of My Life

This past Sunday I officially became that asshole who cries at the finish line of a big race. I have no problem with people doing this at the end of a full marathon - if you DON'T cry at the finish, you're barely human - but given that this was my 3rd half marathon, and my 2nd in the last 2 months, this wasn't some sort of life changing moment. I'd run the distance before. Hell if we're going by the distance alone, I've run that distance at least a dozen times. But this race was different. I had the race of my life.

It started out god awful. The first mile I had this sharp, shooting pain in my stomach - it felt like someone was stabbing me with a knife over and over again. I legitly wasn't sure I'd be able to keep going like that for 13 miles, that's how bad the pain was. But, by some miracle of god, the pain went away after about 10 minutes and it stayed away the rest of the race. Because that first mile had been so crappy, I decided to screw the race plan, and just run the entire thing by feel.

The first 4 miles FLEW by, and then on this one stretch by mile 4.5 there were the funniest signs that someone had nailed to consecutive telephone polls. My favorite said "Remember, you PAID to do this!!"  I'm usually so damn focused when I race that I don't even notice the signs - these definitely made me laugh and I love that someone took the time to climb up a telephone pole and nail these posters. Classic.

We passed the 5 mile mark, and I got excited. My parents had driven all the way down to Philly to watch me run this race, and I knew they'd be cheering around mile 5.5. I came up Chestnut Street and there they were, mom cheering with my cheerleading pom poms from middle school and dad videotaping me on his phone! That was really awesome. They always came to my athletic stuff growing up, but competitive sports pretty much ended for me when I was 18. It was so great to have them out there cheering me on!

And from then on I cruised through the race. I gave a high 5 to who I can only assume was Benjamin Franklin, and smiled at the people cheering my name (our bibs had our names on them - nice touch, Philly half organizers!). Then, I have to hand it to them, the Drexel kids were friggin awesome. The race was early (7am start time), and those frat boys were out on the sidewalk, blasting music and screaming for the runners. Some were handing out Keystone Light - I didn't drink that shit in college, I wouldn't drink it during a half marathon, but I LOVED the gesture! There were some gnarly hills over in that area, which were somewhat unexpected, so the boost was very much appreciated.

The finish line for this half was about 2 tenths of a mile further down the road than it was for the Philly half I ran in September. It was kind of funny because you come out under this overpass and that's where the previous finish line was. I was charging hard, thinking I had literally 5 seconds left of the race, and then was like "Oh shit, I have another 30 seconds left." So I stayed charging hard, but I lifted my head up and took in the amazing crowd. I don't think I've ever felt that good finishing a race. I crossed the finish line, hands in the air, and slapped my watch to stop the clock. I looked down at the time to see one hell of a PR - and that's when it happened. I started crying. Like a complete asshole.

Part of it was that I was proud of the PR, part of it was happiness that I'd just enjoyed a race for the first time ever, and part of it was relief that it was done - it was a fine moment of catharsis. I had been putting so much pressure on myself to do well, hit a certain time, stay competitive with my friends who were also running, make my coaches proud, do well in front of my parents, etc. Thank god for coach Jason - he put everything in perspective for me last week. Without his guidance, advice, and tough love, I don't think I would've performed as well as I did in Philly; and there's no way I would've enjoyed it as much.

I feel amazing. I don't think I'll ever forget that feeling as long as I live.

Miles for Brian

Tonight my friend Sarah, who did the San Diego season with me, posted a link with an update on her cousin, Brian, who was her inspiration for her TNT marathon experience. Brian was diagnosed a few years ago with Stage IV soft tissue sarcoma; the cancer progressed to his brain, and things are not looking good. For the full story, please read their blog update on Caring Bridge:  http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/brianmichaelschultz

It's heartbreaking. Brian has a matter of months at this point. He has a wife and baby daughter, and the reality of the situation is that he's likely going to have to leave them. Miracles do happen and no one should EVER give up hope, but it's equally important to accept the gravity of the situation and do what you can here and now to make sure whatever time he has is as wonderful as it can be; it's precious time, for certain. The blog talks about how the family is pursuing palliative care, which is such a great decision. I wish we had known a little bit more about some of the options for palliative care for Grandpa. We were fortunate that he wasn't in severe pain for long, but the benefits of palliative and hospice care are undeniable, and the sooner you begin it, the more comfortable the person will be for a longer period of time. There is a wonderful book called Final Journeys that is written by a hospice nurse named Maggie Callahan. She passes along amazing advice and lessons to families tending to a dying person. It's something I wish I'd read in June, though when I read it in August I did find some comfort. I hope this book makes it into the hands of Brian and his family, if for no other reason than to help them feel like they're not alone.

When Grandpa was diagnosed back in January, we were told he only had months. Grandpa said it was a time for tears and prayer. I think now is that time for Brian.

Miles for Brian tomorrow.

The wall of Grandpa's oncology floor at UMass Memorial in Worcester

Consecutive Hills of Death

Today we did the infamous GWB run (for those unfamiliar, the GWB is the George Washington Bridge). It's sort of a misnomer, since the bridge is only the first mile of the run, and then it's down into Palisades Park, NJ, for a crazy hilly run. During my San Diego season, this run was one of the highlights, no doubt. I met my running partner, Audrey, and we conquered the crap out of those hills, including the half mile almost-straight-vertical incline on the way back up to the bridge. We felt like we could move mountains.

Today, I did not feel like that. Today, I felt like shit. I knew it would be a tough run - as with our San Diego season, Michael announced that this would be the hilliest run we'd do all season. I'd been through those hills before, I knew what to expect: I knew there were some bad ones and some rolling ones and some that seemingly never end. It wasn't the hills themselves that made today a crap run. I can't explain it, but for some reason the entire second half of the run I felt really dizzy. My nutrition and hydration were dead on, I didn't go out last night, I slept fine, I ate a good breakfast - like I said, I can't explain it. Then when we finished I laid down and put my legs up (to get my legs higher than my heart) and I got absolutely freezing. The weird thing is, it was actually really warm today - sunny and mid 60s - so I had no reason to be that cold. At that point I guess my lips had turned blue, but not being able to see my own face, I didn't realize that was happening. I don't know why this happened. I changed in Michael's car into some dry clothes, which helped, and I had a little food shortly thereafter which I'm assuming helped too, but my lips stayed slightly blue for a couple hours and I was still pretty cold most of the day. Not ideal.

I feel fine now, so I think everything is okay. No one had a particularly great run today, due to the brutal elevation changes - Steph and Olya actually referred to them as the consecutive hills of death. Next weekend my long run will be the Philly half marathon, where there will be NO hills and it should be a GREAT run :)

Well That Sucked

Last night it was back to the hills - this time we were "cresting" the hills, which means you sprint up the hill and then maintain your effort level (constant breathing) as the road flattens out. I was grateful that we were working with a much less steep hill, as we used the hill at west 86th, but right off the bat I knew I wasn't going to have an awesome practice. My left leg has really been bothering me for a few weeks now. The pain in my thigh appears to keep rotating - sometimes it feels like the center of my quad, sometimes it feels like the VMO, sometimes it feels like the hip, sometimes it feels like the groin, and sometimes it's just impossible to pinpoint. My PT doesn't feel a tear and confirmed that it's likely just a sore muscle or charley horse of some kind, so I'm just trying to be patient and massage, stretch, and heat it, and hope it subsides.

Then there's the knee - the goddamn knee. The original problem with my knees had to do with the patella being horribly pulled to the outside and grinding against the cartilage. That pain is to the front and the outside of the knee. Oh how I wish the current pain were to the front and the outside... No, this pain is now in the back and center of the knee. It's right where the hamstring connects to the knee, so when you're running hills (aka blasting your hamstrings), the pain is amplified and the ligament is aggravated. Super frigging awesome. During repeat number 5 I asked Michael Conlon (who is also a PT) to look at it, and he said the ligament is likely inflamed. That means icing, motrin, rest, and stretching for a few days and we'll see if it improves. Fingers crossed, pretty pretty please!! I had to stop after the 5 repeats so as to not aggravate it any further, which was a bummer since I was supposed to do between 6 and 8, and I don't like failing. I'm hoping it's for the best and it'll let the knee repair or relax or just chill the F out. Sigh...

NYC Marathon Weekend

Whether you're a running enthusiast or not, the buzz that comes over a city during its marathon weekend is undeniable and extremely contagious. This weekend was no exception, as it was the NYC marathon weekend, meaning it's one of the most prestigious marathons in one of the world's most amazing cities, and I'm lucky enough to call it home.

The weekend kicked off with a hell of a long run on Saturday morning - my best so far this season. We ran an out and back up the west side highway, which you all know is my personal favorite place to run in the city, and we had such a great time! Legs were strong, lungs were strong, I'm loving the people in my pace group, and we were dead on as far as pacing. Can't ask for anything more than that!! Throw in a post-run ice bath and a Brooklyn brewery beer and I do believe I've found my groove for this season. OHH YEAH!!

Then Sunday it was on to spectating the NYC marathon. I headed down to Greenpoint to mile 12.5 to cheer at one of the official TNT cheer stations, which was awesome. There's an excitement in the air as you see the NYPD motorcycles come around the bend, and then the press van, and then finally the lead women runners! Those ladies are FAST, let me just tell you. They go flying by so fast and have the most amazing physiques, and you can't help but envy and admire them. Next up are the lead men, and it's the exact same rush (except I don't really envy a man's physique...). It makes you want to run if you aren't already a runner, and if you are already a runner it makes you want to get faster. A LOT faster.

The crowd of runners starts to thicken and we were all obsessively checking our phones to track our friends who were running, and then alternately obsessively scanning the crowd to see if we could spot anyone in TNT purple. I am stoked to say that I saw EVERY single person I was trying to spot!!! First up was Rory, who ran with Grandpa's initials on his back. He is amazingly fast and such an inspiration. Rory runs for his dad, who passed away from leukemia in 2002, and I was so grateful he shared his miles with me and my Grandpa. He is amazing. Then I saw Brett and coach Pam within a couple minutes of each other, coach Peter ran by and actually spotted ME first, Herb cruised past, and then coach Dari came running and stopped for some cheers and a hug!

The TNT station was 100% female, so a ton of the male runners were waving, winking, and blowing kisses at us, which was entertaining and hilarious. Ethan Zohn, who won Survivor a few years back and is actually a cancer survivor himself, pointed to us as he ran by, cheering "Go Team!". Stuff like that is pretty awesome. I was also getting a lot of love from the crowd for my sign, which can be viewed below :) A lot of people were running with charities, a lot of people were running for loved ones, and a lot of people were just running to run. Regardless of their reason, I was screaming my ass off for every single one of them. I have no voice left, but it was completely worth it! It was incredibly inspiring and made me really, really excited to run my race in January.

My sign for the NYC marathoners :)

Consistency is the Name of the Game. Apparently so is "Rachel"

Since we'd done two straight Wednesdays of hills, last night we returned to speedwork.This workout was half mile repeats, meaning you run as fast as you can for a half mile, then jog at a very slow pace back to the start - and then do it again 3 more times. The goal is to make your repeats consistent, within 5-10 seconds of the previous rep, getting slightly faster with each one. My usual problem with workouts like this is that I go out too fast and can't hold the speed, whether it's within each repeat (i.e. running the first quarter mile too fast and backing off the second quarter) or getting slower with successive repeats. Last night, however, I was almost dead on with how we're supposed to run these:

• Rep 1 - 4:08
• Rep 2 - 3:55
• Rep 3 - 3:58
• Rep 4 - 3:54

The Rachels, icing our injuries in New Paltz

I not only increased speed throughout the workout in terms of each rep, but I was able to really finish strong and actually increase my speed for the last minute or so EACH TIME! And you will notice that with the exception of the 13 second jump between repeat 1 and 2, we were damn consistent in timing, and to top it off, we ran the last repeat the fastest. So freaking fantastic.

Now, you might be asking, "Who's 'we?'" For the second week in a row, I did my Wednesday workout with Rachel Bliner, a fellow San Diego alum, a fellow Phoenix mentor, and (obviously) a fellow Rachel. (She is also a fellow faller - she wiped out in New Paltz, too). This week, Michael Conlon didn't like that we were running together because in theory that would mean we weren't pushing each other. I know I wasn't holding back, and Rachel B says that I tend to push her anyway, so I think it was actually a pretty dead on workout for both of us.

At the end of the workout, I was really proud of what we'd accomplished. Setting these little mini-goals feels good, and crushing them feels even better. Rachel B told me after last night's workout she's dedicating the song "Defying Gravity" to me. For those of you unfamiliar, it's a song from the musical "Wicked", and listening to it gives you chills. Most of us ladies on the team really love the song, and I actually plan on singing it in my head for the entire Philly half marathon, which I'm running 2 weeks from Sunday. Speaking of the Philly half, I have some major goals for that race, which I'm not going to vocalize because it's a very personal thing. I am really focused on that race right now and I want to really see what I can do with that distance. I feel like if I can crush these small goals, I can work toward the bigger ones. It's a totally different approach to those races than I've taken in the past - I've never actually had a set time goal - so I find it both frightening and motivating, and I can feel the adrenaline pulsing through my veins already. I am PSYCHED.

Might I Actually Be Getting Faster?

This morning we all ran a 5 mile race in the park - it was the Poland Springs Marathon Kickoff 5 Miler. The  NYC marathon is officially a week away, so this little race was the first of many events this week leading up to the big one next Sunday. I was tired, and had just planned to run the race nice and easy. I ran at a pace that felt easy, and I wasn't checking my watch often, and I ended up PR'ing the race! Who AM I?! My breathing was relaxed, my legs felt strong, and I cruised my way to a really great time.

I think today was just this strange combination of great running weather, great energy, a decent course, and apparently a strong performance from yours truly. I also think it can be largely attributed to the speedwork I'm suffering through this season. Last Wednesday night is the perfect example:

We did a "Halloween run" where we dressed up in costumes. My mentor group dressed up as Pheidippides, the ancient Greek warrior that ran the first marathon ever (side note: he died at the end of it). We knew we'd be running hills that night and togas were an easily-removable costume if they proved to be too much of a hindrance, and we thought it was clever. We did NOT, however, know we would be running Harlem Hill, as opposed to Cat Hill. I'd had a really solid hill workout the week before on Cat Hill and was looking to repeat. Harlem Hill is allegedly shorter (we used the back side, not the evil side) but it felt just as long to me, and man that thing is absolutely steeper. I ran 6 strong repeats up that damn thing and every time felt like I couldn't breathe when I got to the top - which, by the way, is the entire point. Coach Jason ran repeat number 4 with me, which was, of course, my strongest one all night, and he kept yelling "This is how you get faster!!!". The son of a bitch is right, apparently. He was also wearing a warrior costume, which made it kind of funny, even though I had zero air left to laugh.

I have to say, seeing the hard work pay off really makes you want to keep doing it. I never thought I'd really get much faster; stronger, and more comfy at a slow pace, yes. But faster? I kind of can't believe it's happening.