Spring Summer 2024

Did you spend your lunch running in the sunshine, wondering how the sky can be so blue and how your thoughts can be so dark? How you can be so happy and free and sad and loved and lonely all rolled into one big gulp? How you notice the yellow in the dandelions and the smell of gasoline mixed with freshly cut grass? How when your mind wanders away from the heat and niggles of pain that your stride picks up and all nuisances are forgotten?

That it seems like the perfect day for a cheery melody, but you cannot drag yourself away from diving into those feelings and swimming amongst the tears hidden by your sunglasses.

________

They say that one of the benefits of travel is all the new things you encounter that create new pathways in your brain. As you navigate the unfamiliar, all these new experiences force you out of your comfort zone. Some are a little more painful than others as you hope you're standing in the correct line for passport control or the drysuit you're wearing is indeed zipped in all the correct places.

But if you keep your mind open to all the things that could be wonderful, it can lead to magical experiences. Some of it is trusting your gut, i.e. asking your private tour guide to go to lunch. Some of it is blind luck, i.e waking up early to a gorgeous sunrise. Some of it is fueled by fomo, i.e. choosing the last kayak spot because you were afraid to miss out. Some of it is just allowing yourself to believe everything is a gift - the scenery, the wildlife, the people, the food, the opportunity to be doing that exact thing at that exact time.

Was it perfect? Absolutely not. But perfect is not only unrealistic, but boring. Often the things that don't go as planned are the memories we hold onto. And the secret is to laugh through the thunderstorm because usually whatever is happening is beyond your control at that point anyway.

_________

Shorts with long-sleeve shirts. A perfectly ripe avocado. The sun streaming through stained glass. Waves lapping against a creaky dock. Submerging shoulders in a hot bath. An afternoon nap with the windows open. Icy lemonade in July. A song that feels like a time capsule. One more chapter in a page-turner. Warm banana bread just out of the oven. A kiss to the forehead. Hands running through your hair.

_________

As the mercury hangs high in the thermometer, I strangely find myself feeling the best I have in months running-wise. Something about the early part of the year left me feeling wiped. I think I expected to find vigor again in my body. But it languished for months. Slivers of me would show up from time to time, making me believe that maybe I'd turned the corner.

I was asking my body to do a lot. I wasn't truly recovered from UTMB when I went to the well a short time later for Stinger. And the icing on the cake was Rehoboth. I just felt tired. Not that I couldn't run, but that my body couldn't be asked to go as hard as I wanted to.

Certainly the efforts in the following months were physically a lot as well. And mentally, I was all over the place. Excited to go do a huge bucket list trip. Wrecked from the days Adam was in the hospital. Grandma. Being pulled in a million directions at work. The onus of caregiving. It's no wonder that nothing was feeling fluid during that time.

Which I think back now, removed from it for a couple of months, and wonder how I managed to put my body through the motions. When I think about how I ran a 3:25 on a razor-thin line of sanity and essentially no marathon-specific training, I am floored. I am floored that I had the audacity to go out at that pace and I am floored that I didn't end up on a curb crying somewhere in Newton.

It's hard to remember that you cannot just keep asking so much without something carrying the weight.

_________

I'm staring at a spider on the ceiling as the water cascades down my back. It's the time of year that even a cold shower is still warm, especially after a run. I watch the spider move slowly towards the corner and stop as though it knows it's being watched. Spiders don't bother me and I'm too short to reach it anyway.

There's a swollen lymph node on my neck and I wonder if it's the cause of my HRV plummeting in the past week. My body fighting some infection that isn't showing much in the way of symptoms. Running is a roller coaster right now and my sleep has been interrupted by early mornings. I wonder if it's the heat or age or anxiety or something else. Perhaps all the above or none of the above.

I find slivers of me hiding in my runs. Miles that tick off easily, lost in my thoughts or lost in conversations. But this is often the exception, rather than the rule and I cannot fathom those times that I'd rip 18 miles mid-morning at 7:45 pace. I know I can't be greedy and have it last forever, nor do I think I'm actually putting in that kind of work.

I love it for many of the same reasons and for different ones too. That crutch of holding some of my sanity for a few hours a week. An escape from the doldrums of everyday life where I get to be selfish for a short period of time. Sometimes it's the place that I go and think and sometimes it's the place to clear my mind.

It can be a bit maddening to feel like it's fighting me back. To see paces plummet and feel unable to find that fluidity that I crave. I hope that this is merely a fluke.

_____

And I wonder if it will strike you in the middle of the night, when the demons are circling your already failing mind?

Will it linger like perfume on your clothes, reminding you that you'll never outrun it?

Will you smile to yourself, knowing it'll just keep popping up?

Or will you thrash at it, angry that nowhere feels safe?

_________

I told myself to let myself feel the pain today. It was the last few minutes of the workout and things were getting hard. I dug into it, letting my lungs burn and my legs ache. I thought about how I need to scrape the barrel, just let myself feel hollow.

It had been pouring during the first 20 minutes, pelting me sideways. Thunder erupted in the sky and I should have stopped, seeking shelter for safety. But I kept looping anyway. Lightning flashed in the sky and I kept my eyes on the path, locked into getting it done.

R3 3.0: Beauty & the Beast

Two years ago, I crawled out of the Grand Canyon and was certain that this was a one and done experience for me. But as time marched forward, I slowly forgot about the pain and was curious if it would feel easier the second time. My experience of running rim to rim to rim last year was much better than the first time, but it was still really tough.

Well, because you're reading this, you know that I decided to go back for round #3. But this year was a bit different for a few reasons, some good, some less than ideal. I was far less fit than last year (re: undertrained). We decided to run a slightly different route (re: longer). And Jared joined us for the weekend (re: the more the merrier).

Jared and I flew to Phoenix on Friday night and Roger picked us up at the airport. It was nearly 2am at home so we were pretty exhausted by the time we were settled at Roger's place. Roger woke up at some ungodly hour to go do a short run (?) and thus, we found ourselves already sleep-deprived well before the adventure began.

The 3 of us went to breakfast, shopped for some last minute items (re: croissants, Payday, post-run chips/soda/sandwiches), and then loaded up the car to head north. 

Traffic was a crawl heading to Flagstaff, but we made it to Pizzicleta close to 1pm and snagged 3 seats at the bar for our final rerun meal. Pro-runner and R6 FKT holder (re: he has the fastest known time for going across the canyon twice in one effort) Jeff Browning was having lunch there so we figured it was a good sign.

Traffic was a bit of a snarl getting into the park, but we were still super early for our projected 6pm start time. We actually found a parking spot right next to the Bright Angel trailhead and decided to just go ahead and start early.

At 4:26pm, we began our rim to rim to rim adventure. Roger and I had previously run down Bright Angel to North Kaibab and back up Bright Angel. This time, we ran 5 miles along the Rim Trail before taking the South Kaibab Trail down. Once we hit Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the canyon, everything else was the same as prior years.

The Rim Trail is a paved path along the top of the canyon and offers great views and easy footing. The direction we were heading was a slow incline and added a bit of vert in addition to more miles on our legs. By the time we arrived at the top of Soutb Kaibab, we were just shy of an hour in and ready to get to the real thing.

 
South Kaibab at sunset was a feast for the eyes. We moved at a careful, but honest pace down. This was Jared's first trip to the Grand Canyon and my first time down SK so we were taking lots of pictures and goofing off while Roger forged ahead. As we got further and further down there were less and less people on the trail and it felt like we almost had the place to ourselves.

 I was feeling pretty okay in the first stretch, but I'd been dealing with some self-diagnosed tendinitis in my foot and the descent was making it angry. And I could tell early on that my lack of trail-specific training and overall fitness was going to make this a different experience than my 2023 one.

 But as we hit the bridge to cross the Colorado River with a bit of daylight left, I was in good spirits. It was a gorgeous evening in a ridiculously beautiful place and I was doing the thing I love - running and adventure with friends!

 We refilled our water at Phantom Ranch and got all of our night gear ready to head through the next stretch. Roger asked if we would be okay to just hike through “the box”, aka the 8 mile flattish section from the river to Manzanita, the next water stop. We were all agreeable to err on the side of easygoing and headed off into the night.

 Bats and moths flew in between us as our headlamps bobbed down the trail. There was lots of swatting and shrieking, but also plenty of laughs. It was really warm in this section and I swear it got warmer the closer we got to Manzanita. I remembered from my prior experiences that this section feels extra long because it's relatively boring in the night. But I also remembered to stop a few times and get us all to turn off our headlamps so we could stargaze. With the nearly full moon and clear skies, it was really special to stand at the bottom of the canyon and feel very, very tiny.

 Unfortunately, the closer we got to Manzanita, the worse I started to feel. I went to a really dark place and it was awful. We weren't even 20 miles in and I was spiraling. I couldn't believe how hard it felt and I couldn't pinpoint what exactly was wrong. My feet were achy, especially the one with tendinitis. My heart rate was really high. I felt extremely warm. I was thinking I should just cancel my 100 miler in September. I thought that I might need to turn around at Manzanita and bail out early. Nothing was wrong, but everything was wrong.

Roger asked as we neared Manzanita how I responded with, “terrible”. I said I needed some time when we got there to get myself together. I wasn't even sure what I needed at that point, but at the very least, I needed a short break.

Once we arrived, I went to the bathroom, filled my water, and then lied down on a bench and closed my eyes. I swear I fell fully asleep for 2 minutes while I lied there for probably 10ish minutes. I cajoled myself back upright and though I was saving my croissants and kidney killers (re: Aleve) for later if needed, I decided I needed to pull out all my tricks right then. So I stuffed half a croissant down, popped a couple of Aleve, loosened my shoelaces, and within minutes, I was feeling a million times better.

I tied my hoodie around my waist, knowing the temperature would drop as we climbed up towards the North Rim. And instead of turning back early, I clipped into my trekking poles and started marching forward. As we climbed, I continued to feel better and the colder air was a welcome relief. 

We saw scorpions, took more night sky photos, traversed sketchy rock sections, and came across a man wrapped in a space blanket on the side of the trail. He was fully coherent and not injured, but was waiting for a medic. We offered to stay with him until the medic arrived, but he said he was ok so we continued on. The medic was only about 2/10ths of a mile from him when we crossed paths so we felt better once we knew help was right there for him. Eventually, found ourselves standing on the North Rim.

A hiking group starting their rim to rim traverse was at the trailhead as we arrived and offered to take our photo after we refilled our water bottles. It was chilly at the top so we made it a quick stop.

The descent was much faster going than the ascent and everyone started to feel better after a couple miles. We stopped to have a snack and Jared realized that he and I had been using each other's trekking poles since likely the top of the North Rim. Oops.

As we neared Manzanita, I really needed to use the bathroom and started to gap the guys to get there faster. Roger prefers to lead and Jared likes to take photos from the back of any of our group runs so I was in the middle of our caravan most of the journey. However, in this case, I forged ahead out of my own necessity.

Down at Manzanita, I used the restroom, filled my bottles, and decided to lie down again while the guys got their gear ready for the next section. It was first light and we could now put our headlamps away finally.

We were all in a pretty good place as we went through the box a second time. The daylight brought us back to life and we were happy to be on the return trip back. Much like the whole run, there were periods of crazy laughter and chatter interspersed with stretches of quiet. Sometimes, we'd hike for a mile or two with barely a few words, checking on each other as we all worked to do this really hard thing. And sometimes, we'd be laughing so hard that tears would be running down our faces.

As we neared Phantom Ranch, we made checklists of what we needed for the climb up Bright Angel. Water, water, water. Sunscreen. Sunglasses. PR was busy, but we were able to find a place to sit and get organized before heading up.

 

All of us were happy that only the final stretch awaited us. It was going to be hard, but we were going to get it done. We crossed the Colorado again and then began the final ascent.

Even though it was still relatively early, the full sun felt brutal in the exposed sections. I dipped my hat, buff, and sleeves in the few early creeks to make sure I stayed cool. We climbed and climbed and eventually reached the last water stop at Havasu Gardens with 4.5 miles to go. 

Normally, there is also water at the 3 mile and 1.5 mile rest houses, but a pipe recently broke and this was now the last stop for water. I filled up with 2.5 liters just to be safe.

The final stretch was tough. Jared was feeling the way I did the first time, but I knew he was going to get it done. Roger was feeling good and kept gapping us. I stayed back with Jared, making sure he was within my sight as we snaked our way forward. We sat in the shade at intervals and broke up the climb as much as possible. Still, we were passing plenty of people making their way up as well.

There was a ranger standing at the 1.5 rest house checking people as they went down, making sure they knew water was turned off and asking them how much water they had in them. While we had plenty of water and were heading up, I was appreciative of the park service keeping people as safe as possible.

I was dreaming of my cold Sprite and lying down. Every muscle in my body was screaming to just sit down. The sun beat down on us relentlessly. I looked out into the beautiful beast of the canyon, happy to be inching myself out of it.

Roger stayed with us in the final climb and the 3 of us finally finished just before noon on Sunday.

A very nice person took our picture and we were then free to sit down. Finally.

Our hotel room was at the South Rim, but check-in wasn't until 4pm so we hung out sprawled across the parking lot for a bit. It felt nearly impossible to drink and eat as I was just exhausted. But eventually, I was able to finish a sandwich, a Sprite, and a sparkling water. Feeling slightly more energetic, I went to go check to see if our room was ready. Luckily, it was ready early and we could shower and take a well-earned nap.

We hobbled out for an very early dinner at the Bright Angel lodge, cheers-ing with a few beers and then promptly went back to our room to get a full night's worth of sleep.

The morning after one of these things is always a favorite feeling. Completely wrung out, body aching, hungry, dehydrated, and mind fuzzy. There is an odd satisfaction in doing something so hard on your own volition that everything in your body hurts. I exclaim never again as I limp towards breakfast, but really, I'm waiting for the chance to do it all over again.

 

A Whole Decade of Chasing the Unicorn: Boston Marathon #10!

Race day - month prior

The path to finishing my 10th Boston Marathon was not a linear one. I ran a bunch of ultras over the last year and while I felt dialed in for the distance, I did not feel so sure about my speed.

The week after I returned from Antarctica, my runs were terrible. I'd been a complete slug on the boat after the 50k, enjoying being wined and dined and watching movies in between zodiac rides. I was stuffed with cheese and walking 1,000 steps a day.

Thankfully, I turned a sharp corner after a week of proper nutrition, sleep, and movement. I did a few workouts and long runs and was surprised at how good I felt leading up to the race. There was hope after all!

But the universe had other plans.

A week before we were set to leave to go to Boston, Adam wasn't feeling well and stayed in bed a couple of days. That Saturday, we assumed he had a UTI given his symptoms and he was prescribed an antibiotic. By Tuesday, I urged him to do another telehealth visit with the doctor because his symptoms weren't getting any better and she thought maybe it was diverticulitis and advised him to go to the emergency room.

He was in a lot of pain and coupled with the lack of mobility with his MS, it took quite some time to get him to the car and to the emergency room. But, within a few hours of bloodwork, urinalysis, and a CT scan, it was revealed that he had a 3mm kidney stone that was infected.

He was being admitted to the hospital and would have surgery the following day, a Wednesday. We were to leave for Boston on Friday.

Of course, at that point, I was just assuming I wasn't going to Boston. The surgery was fairly routine, but it was still surgery, and I had no idea how he'd feel after and how long he needed to recover. The emotional stress was overwhelming as I was trying to coordinate help for the dogs, stay present at work, and be there as much as I could for Adam.

 
I went home both nights for the dogs and honestly, to give myself a break. However, the night before the surgery, our oldest dog wasn't feeling well and I ended up cleaning up messes in the middle of the night. If anyone would have been filming me, they would have seen me laughing maniacally as I stepped into a pile of dog poop and wondering just how much more I was going to be thrown.

The surgery went well, and they were able to remove the stone. But the doctor told me they found a lesion on his bladder and though he didn't believe it was cancerous, they were going to do a biopsy to check, and we wouldn't know the results until about a week later. Spoiler alert: it was benign, thankfully.

All this time, Adam is telling me I have to go to Boston, and we'd figure something out for his caregiving. My mom and her boyfriend Jay offered to cancel their trip to take care of him. Other friends and family reached out to offer help as well, but I just couldn't make any decisions until we got him home. Megan and Frank (who are absolute saints in allowing me to travel as much as I do) were already going to be taking care of the dogs, but to ask them to take care of post-surgery Adam seemed like too much to ask.

The doctor said he could go home Thursday as long as everything went well and it took me going to track down help that afternoon to finally get him discharged. We got home and he was feeling well enough to get himself up the stairs. I had been putting off the inevitable, but I asked him what the plan was for the weekend.

Should I go ahead and go in the morning? Should I change my flight to Saturday or Sunday? And who did he want to have come to help him?

To my shock, he said he wanted to try to come with me to Boston. After much back and forth about weighing the pros and cons, we both checked into the flight for the following morning. Yolo or something.

I was thankful I'd at least made a pile of my own stuff to pack the day before when I came home for the night, but now I had to pack and get him ready too. It was chaotic, but I got it done so that we could get at least at little bit of sleep before the flight.

Race weekend  

Friday was a long day between the early morning flight, getting us and our stuff to the hotel, a short run (since I hadn't been able to run since Sunday) and bib pickup/wandering the expo. I was so exhausted by the time I crawled into bed that I could barely wrap my head around the fact that I was running the 5k in the morning.

Luckily, the 5k always ends up being a progressive 3.1 miles and my finish time is unimportant as the big dance is on Monday. It's a fun way to kick off the weekend and get a run in at the same time. This year, my mom and Jay were staying with my mom's cousin along the race course and they came out that morning to cheer me on. I got to give them all a high five when I came by!

After the 5k, I contemplated hanging around the city to do some shopping at the pop-up stores, but ultimately decided to walk back to the hotel and shower. This ended up working out well as I checked on Adam, met my mom and Jay for lunch, and did the shopping when I was clean and dry.

That evening, we went to dinner in Cambridge with the family at a lovely Italian place and I celebrated the last night of being 41.

On Sunday, I knew that even though it was my birthday, I wanted to lay low. The forecast was looking quite warm for race day so after I had 1 birthday beer flight at lunch, I drank lots and lots of water and electrolytes that afternoon. 

We ordered pasta for dinner, and I made all my last-minute preparations for race day.

 

Adam was still on the fence about spectating knowing it would be a long and exhausting day. But ultimately, my mom and Jay came up with a plan to help him get to the corner of Hereford and Commonwealth so they could all watch.

Race day morning

On race morning, I had a giant muffin and hotel coffee before I got into my scheduled Lyft that took me near Boston Common. I dropped my gear bag and then stood around for a short while until the white wave runners could board the buses to the start.

I sat with a runner from Cincinnati who was running his 3rd Boston. We chatted about all things running for the hour to the start and the time passed quickly. I ate a Snickers and a banana on the bus and sipped on some Skratch for electrolytes. At the Athlete's Village, we parted ways and I went to stand in line for the portapotties. It was more hurry up and wait after that and I found a patch of grass inside a tent to sit before they called my wave to the corrals. A guy from New York noticed my Maniacs visor and we talked until I had to leave for my next hurry up and wait.

I was grateful for the sunscreen available along the walk to the corrals as the sun was out in full force and I stupidly forgot sunscreen. The temperature was comfortable in just my tank top and shorts standing around, so I knew we were in for a rough day at the office.

I made one last portapotty stop and then started to walk to corral #4. Somehow, I spotted Allison who I knew from Instagram, and we got to finally have a conversation outside of drunkenly shouting at each other in the Rehoboth beer tent.

In my corral, I fired up my playlist and took a few photos. Time passed quickly though and soon, I was shuffling towards the start line.

 

The Race

It seemed surreal to be starting my 10th Boston (for the purists: 9 on course, 1 virtual for 2020). All kinds of things were rolling around in my brain as I stepped over the line.

I was proud to be there. I was mad it was going to be hot. Did I mention I hate the heat? I hate the heat. I was worried about Adam and if I fell apart, how he might have to go back early. I was happy I could selfishly do this thing I love for a few hours, blissfully unaware of anything else in the world. I knew it was going to be hard and it was going to hurt.

But I mostly thought about how it was going to feel coming down Boylston, no matter how long it took me, accomplishing something I never thought would happen, running 10 Boston Marathons.

Aside from when I peeked at the halfway point, I decided to not look at my watch and used the race clocks to do fuzzy runner math as needed. I didn't want to get in my head about it.

On the plus side, I had a lot of marathon and course-specific experience, had a squeaker BQ already for 2025, and was relatively healthy. The cons were the very stressful week/weekend leading up to race day, all the recent racing miles on my body, and heat is my white whale. If it had been 20° cooler, I would have been in a much different headspace.

Looking at my splits, I ran a lot of it like a rookie. Too fast in the early downhills, slower in the flats, and then chewed up by the Newton hills. But I did manage some sub-8 splits at the end, likely fueled by the fact that I was getting close to my cheer squad and almost done. And I never walked except for when I had to make sure I was getting water into my mouth and not all over myself.

I took water and Gatorade early and often, a GU every 4 miles, and stayed to the right as much as possible for any bit of shade that was there. I dumped cups of water over my head, down my neck and chest, and right into my face to cool off. It helped, but I was thirsty nearly the entire race.

I definitely felt like I was a more patient racer this year. I tried to not weave and dodge runners as much. I really listened to how I was feeling and let what felt like swarms of runners pass me in the beginning. I kept my effort honest, but I knew I'd be playing with fire to push any harder than I did. In my head, I was thinking, some of you will come back to me!

 

And some did. I don't think I've seen so much carnage so early and I swore at least half the people around me in the hills were walking. I saw medics attending to people on the course in droves and runners being hauled off on stretchers and in wheelchairs. The hydration stations got more and more chaotic as we all jostled to grab liquid in our depleted states.

Until I reached the top of Heartbreak Hill at mile 21, I was definitely stretching my limits to stay positive. I high-fived lots of tiny hands, smiled at funny posters, inwardly squealed at cute dogs, and thanked as many volunteers as I could. Sometimes you have to just fake it until you make it. The Wellsley scream tunnel is always a boost for me and with the gorgeous weather, the women were out in full force.

 

I met Joe and MJ on the Antarctica trip and knew that MJ would be spectating in the hills while Joe was racing. I started scanning the crowd for her where I thought she'd be around mile 16 and eventually assumed I'd missed her. But lo and behold, she spotted me after I stopped looking and not only got some great photos, but more importantly, gave me a boost of much-needed positivity.

 

The Newton Hills were rough for me this year, but I did manage to run up them all even though it felt like I was barely moving. 

At the top of Heartbreak, I was relieved to be running my favorite section of the course. The Boston College kids screaming in my face and a really nice downhill felt like magic. This is where I knew I was going to finish with some life still in me.

Knowing I had just over 5 miles left, I started counting down the last few sections. The streets narrow in Brookline and I love running in packs at this point again, letting other runners pull me along if they have any fight left in their legs.

 

I spotted the Citgo sign and hoped that I hadn't given too much time back to miss Adam. I estimated I was running close to 3:40 given how I'd trudged through the hills and I didn't know how much time he would be able to manage waiting for me. And this was assuming the plan worked in the first place to get him there.

 

I started scanning the crowd really early as I neared Commonwealth and Hereford, watching for someone to wave wildly at me. I thought they might be on the Hereford side this year and ran right past my crew on Commonwealth as Adam screamed my name. I backtracked a few steps, stopped to give him a kiss, and pumped my fists for my mom and Jay.

Knowing a PR was nowhere on the table, I went up Hereford without destroying myself and a smile on my face. I wasn't dilly-dallying, but I also wanted to just soak it in. I'd give it a nice push down Boylston, but I wanted to enjoy the final moments of the electric crowds, my fellow runners, and the madness that is this intersection.

As the finish line clocks came into view, I laughed that my fuzzy runner math was terrible and that I was nearly 15 minutes faster than I thought. 

Not watching the watch paid off again. I love surprises and this was a really great one! I had hoped I could run a 3:2x and was really, really happy with a 3:25:31.

 

I was all sorts of giddy when I finished. I did it! I let myself own the moment as I walked through the finish area, feeling all the feelings.

 

I made my way to meet my support crew and though they had a few snags in their day as well, we were all relieved we'd made it happen and there was a happy ending on the day. I know it was just as tough for them and I'm really fortunate they were there to cheer me on.

I'm thankful for my village who helped me get to the race, who took care of my puppies, who donated to the MS fundraiser, who tracked me from afar, who sent me good luck texts, and made another Marathon Monday feel so, so special.