Boston Marathon 2018: Boot to Boston to BQ

A year ago, I crashed into a marathon PR of 3:13:54 in Boston on a warm day after a winter/spring of chipping away under 3:20. I started ramping up my ultra training soon thereafter and managed to eke out PRs in the 6 hour, 12 hour, and 24 hour timed events along with 100k and 100 mile PRs in the process. October was all about downtime and base miles with a little fun marathon thrown in and November pushed the pace a little faster as I began to recover.

December brought a freak hamstring pull (right hammy) days before the Rehoboth Marathon and I raced despite barely being able to hobble around the office mere days before. 2 weeks later, I felt the best I had since Albany on race day and went after the JAX Marathon hard. It netted me my 3rd fastest marathon time, but my (left) foot that felt tender was definitely barking.

2 weeks went by and though my foot was still kind of iffy when I wasn't running, I decided to race a 6 hour race very last minute. Though I grabbed a 50K PR and a new 6 hour PR, my foot was not happy the days following. What I thought was a bruise in JAX was clearly not. I gave it some rest, ran slowly, but all signs pointed to something wasn't right. After being diagnosed and treated with tendinitis first, I eventually would be diagnosed with a stress reaction and was sentenced to the boot for 6 weeks.

Since getting back into running in 2006, this was by far the longest I had ever gone without running. And while I'd had little flare ups of pain and soreness here and there, I never had anything that wasn't cured by a week of rest. With Boston looming in mid-April, I was definitely worried.

I cross-trained like a madwoman. Partially to keep my fitness levels high to make it easier to return to running and partially to fill the void I felt without running in my life. I lifted weights, I did chair cardio, Pilates, and swam. I biked a few times when I was cleared to, but decided the strap was too irritating to my bum foot.

When the boot came off, I followed the doctor's orders of giving myself a couple of days of walking around before attempting to run. The first run back was slow and I was feeling very out of shape after 2 miles, but my legs had no trouble going through the motions.

There was no real plan in place after that. Boston was less than 4 weeks away and I was stuck between feeling prepared and hurting myself again. So I took it a day at a time. Adding on miles, keeping up the cross-training, and backing off when my foot felt angry. I would make a tentative plan a week in advance and adjust when necessary.

I knew trying to run Boston wasn't smart for long-term, but I also knew I'd regret not trying. There were days up until about a week before that I still wasn't sure if I was going to race. In my heart, I was 100% in, but my head argued about the possibilities of consequences.

But after the girls' weekend in Raleigh, I'd convinced myself it was okay to go for it so all of a sudden I found myself tracking down a Wonder Woman running costume and Nike Vaporfly shoes. I needed everything in my arsenal.

Adam and I traveled to Boston Friday and got checked into our Airbnb, hit up the expo ($$$), and went to a Sox game. Both of us were exhausted by the 7th inning and we ended up leaving before the game was over to get a head start on the way back AND because I had signed up for the B.A.A. 5k on Saturday morning. Adam never leaves games early so this was kind of a big deal!

I had no goals for the 5K other than to just use it as a "shakeout run". Luckily, Amy spotted me as she arrived and we ended up running and talking the whole time. I was grateful that her company kept me from thinking about my foot and we really just hammed it up the whole race.

Saturday also was my 36th birthday so we spent the rest of the day bakery and brewery hopping, capping off our evening with dinner with a few Loopsters at the now-traditional Cambridge Brewing Company.

Rest was on the order for Sunday, but as weather forecasts looked worse and worse, I began to panic a bit about my outfit. Roger and I made it our mission after carb-loading for brunch to find long-sleeved compression tops. After a few busts, we ended up with the same version of a shirt from Lululemon. I cringed at the $78 price tag, but would later have zero regrets about the purchase.

After parting ways with Roger, Adam and I went back to our Airbnb to rest. I picked up some nitrile gardening gloves from a nearby Ace hardware to go over my running gloves and a fleece blanket to stay warm at the Athlete's Village. I made spaghetti with marinara sauce, a green salad, and paired it with a baguette for dinner. Carbed and armed with layers, I was as ready as I could be.

I slept really well the night of the race and woke up to my alarm going off. I took 45 minutes to eat half a bagel and a banana, dress, and lock myself on the patio outside when I was checking the weather. After Adam rescued me, it was time to grab a coffee, hop on the T, and try to find Casey and John at the bus pickup.

Luckily, they spotted me huddling in the crevice of Hermes' front door and we were off to the buses. The 3 of us rode together to Hopkinton and then spent the next hour or so trying to fight off the wind, rain, and mud. The field of the Athlete's Village was a huge mud pit and the areas under the tents were so bad that you couldn't even get out of the rain. It was a shitshow. We just laughed because what else could we do.

Casey saved the day with extra HotHands and a huge trash bag. I was still wet and cold, but at least I was better off!

John and I headed out to the corrals when Wave 2 was called. Under my blanket and trash bag, I had yet to arrange my gels, iPod, or eaten my other bagel half. Realizing I had nothing more than coffee to drink that morning, I grabbed a cup of water from volunteers on the way in.

Practically new shoes, a new top, a new skirt, half of my breakfast, under-hydrated, freezing cold windy rain, and 26 days of training after 7 weeks of zero miles.

The craziest thing is despite all the things stacked up against me, I knew how to run a marathon. It might ugly, but I was determined that once I started, I wasn't going to give up.

With 7 minutes to go, I got in my corral and started to try to stuff my sports bra with my gels and get my iPod clipped. It was too rainy to try to even listen to music so I just shoved the ear buds in my shirt. I was fumbling and remembered to turn my watch on around the same time I ditched my blanket and trash bag poncho. I was trying to get my outer glove back on when the gun went off. It was go time!

I went out with the people in my wave and tried to just stay at a comfortable pace. The Boston course makes pacing difficult because of the steep descents in the beginning that feel way too easy on fresh legs. My game plan was to just stay to the left and let people go by.

As the first miles slipped by, I started looking at my paces and was surprised that I felt pretty good despite me lingering near 8 minute miles. The fear of blowing up after 10 miles (my longest post-injury distance) loomed over me, but I decided to just stay in the moment and deal with it one mile at a time.

As I crossed over the 5K timing mat, I knew that followers at home would see exactly what I was up to. I like to think it doesn't matter, but knowing that people were tracking me only fueled me to see what I could do. 8:05, 7:49, 7:42

From the get go, my right shoe was tied way too loose. I really wanted to stop and tighten it, but the momentum of people was always so intense that I just couldn't make myself stop. So I hoped it wouldn't be an issue and tried to forget about it (spoiler alert: it didn't matter).

I remember coming up on the 4 mile mark quickly and though the people were not out like they were in '16 and '17, there were still thousands of people lining the streets. Staying to the left gave me plenty of opportunity to high five all the kids and I tried to absorb their energy. 7:36

All the sights that have slowly become familiar came into my murky view. With the rain blowing sideways at times, I kept my head down and just followed the footsteps of the runners in front of me. Somehow, I managed to remember to scoop out a gel at mile 5. 7:50

People would shout "Wonder Woman" and "Go Carissa" as I ran past. I was glad I decided to run without music as their shouts would often give me the boost I needed. Every once in awhile I'd point at the person, lock eyes, and give them a big goofy grin. John caught up with me around this stretch and we ran stride for stride until I urged him to go after it. 7:39, 7:48, 7:56, 7:53

At the 15K mark, I noticed that I still felt pretty good all things considering. I knew I still had the ugly miles to go, but nothing was inherently bad other than the freezing rain. I was REALLY glad I had bought the extra shirt and gloves. And I hadn't planned on needing a buff for warmth, but I was REALLY glad I had my ears covered.

At just before mile 10, I remember seeing the familiar open space with the lake in Natick and I'm in awe that I'm actually doing it. Heading into double digits, I know that at the very least, I've given it a good go thus far. I think this is around the time I saw Ken and gave him a big side hug while we were running. He looked super comfortable and I watched him slowly open a gap in front of me. 7:55

I fish for another gel and then grab one from the Clif station at mile 11. I'm drinking water or Gatorade at nearly every stop. The cold is keeping me from feeling thirsty, but I know it would be (ironically?) dumb to be dehydrated given the conditions. 8:02

When we head into mile 12, the scream tunnel seems to be even louder than I remember. I smile to myself as I hear their deafening roar get closer with each step. If there was ever a year for me to get a kiss, I had decided this was it. So I ran down the line and high-fived a bunch of girls until I came upon one who was pointing at her cheek. I stopped, we exchanged a cheek kiss, and I went running down the line again for high-fived. 7:56

My shoe came untied shortly thereafter on my left foot and I stepped over to the shoulder to retie it. With doubled gloves and frozen fingers, I fought mercilessly for a few seconds before ripping off my outer gloves to get a better grip. 8:34

As I hit the halfway mark, I realized I could still actually BQ even if I slowed. This was always an outlying possibility, but I was so much more focused on just finishing and really had no business thinking about time goals.

The back half did start to get tougher and I tried to relax my pace as much as I could, gambling that saved energy would help me on the hills. I did start noticing the "Medical Assistance Ahead" signs with more frequency. Happy to know they were there, but equally happy to not need them. I took a gel earlier than my planned 15 mile mark, hoping to stave off the inevitable fade I was bracing myself to feel. 7:48, 8:10, 7:58

The last downhill before Newton is always bittersweet. It is a beautifully graded hill and at just before 16, you think you will be heading into single digits with grace. But I knew what awaited around the right curve.

Wind whipped wildly on the overpasses and made the trek through Newton even more difficult. After conquering the second hill (my least favorite), I saw some rowdy 20-somethings holding out beer cans and shouting at runners. Much like the Wellesley kiss, this was the year to do it. I grabbed the can from the kid, chugged a big gulp of Natural Light, and jumped back into it with the group yelling "Wahoo Wonder Woman". 8:26, 8:35, 8:16

With just Heartbreak Hill left to conquer, I knew I was going to finish once I got to the top. Every step uphill felt agonizingly slow, but I was afraid if I stopped to walk, l was going to get too cold. So I plodded on, waiting for my watch to beep to indicate another mile marker. Somehow I had in my head that my watch was under each mile marker until about Heartbreak Hill when it dawned on me that it was long, just as it always is in Boston. My 34th marathon and runner math always eluding me. 8:41, 9:01

Normally I get excited for mile 21 and Boston College, but I was bonking hard. Their screams were electrifying and their enthusiasm was incredible despite the horrible conditions. It seemed like when the rain would pick up and become blinding, the crowds would go even more wild. 8:36, 8:49

With 5K to go, I followed the people in front of me as best I could. I was starting to feel delirious and my vision was narrowed to a small tunnel in front of me. The relief of catching the next mile or kilometer marker was all I could concentrate on. Ed caught me in this section and he was grinning ear to ear. I was so happy to see a familiar face! 9:08

When I saw the Citgo sign, I was 50% relieved to know I was going to finish the race and 50% relieved that I was finally going to be able to get warm soon. 9:13

The last mile was a trudgefest. I had nothing left. I followed the blue triple line remembering how comfortable I felt Saturday. Under the overpass and up the final hill to turn on Hereford. 9:45

As I got to the turn, I felt immediate relief as Matt and I spotted each other and then I saw Adam.

The finish line in sight, I glanced at my watch and saw that I would have just enough time to get under 3:40. I had no sprint for Boylston, but felt emotion well up in me as I got closer to the finish mat. I was grinning ear to ear knowing that I was steps away from finishing and in a pretty respectable time.

I did it. I really actually did it. It really is impossible until it is done. 3:39:22

I clicked off my Garmin and hobbled into the finish chute. I felt dizzy, exhausted, and my left contact was smooshed in my eye so I could barely see. I shuffled forward to collect a bottle of water, my medal, and after what felt like an eternity, a heat sheet.

The walk back to the Airbnb quite possibly tested me as much as the marathon. Now that I was no longer running and in soaking wet clothes, I was so, so cold. I walked into the Prudential building from one side, but couldn't figure out how to get to the other in my state of delirium so I had to backtrack. I went back in another section after a few blocks outside and walked past fancy stores dripping wet and looking like a zombie.

I knew I had about 5 blocks to go from the backside of the Prudential building so much like the marathon, I took it one step at a time. I walked past a hotel laundry vent that was blasting warm air and stood with the heat in my. face for a few seconds before making the final push. When I reached the door, I rang the bell and was relieved when Adam came to the door quickly.

I finished the marathon and finally could start to get warm. Soon, I was surrounded by friends, drinking a beer, and recapping the race. The best feeling on Marathon Monday!

Follow this link to see my cross-training/return to running log if you are curious about what I did while I was injured and the weeks post-boot.

My comeback playlist here.

Don't be afraid to fail. Be afraid not to try.

I wrote this yesterday and I'm not sure that I will post it ever on my public blog. But you Loopsters have not only changed my life, you've changed Adam's. So here I am, raw and uncut:

My heart aches. And I feel selfishly wrecked with grief. It isn't my story to tell. It isn't me to feel saddened by, inspired by, disappointed by. It doesn't have a Hollywood ending. It is real life. It is messy, complicated, full of love, and full of tears.

This morning, after covering nearly the same distance I did yesterday during the race, I took a few pretty pictures of brownstones lining the streets. The run was awful. I felt sluggish and uncomfortable. I smiled in my photos and walked the corner to sit on the stoop. As my heart rate slowed down, I felt tears welling in my eyes. I wiped them away and climbed upstairs.

It was far easier to feel nothing than everything as I shoved my emotions back inside.

But as I warmed up a cup of day-old coffee, I met Adam's eyes. The tears flooded. I was sad and mad that I was sad. How was I supposed to be the support person when I needed support myself? He shouldn't be consoling me. It felt so wrong that I needed his embrace.

Or was it?

I didn't want a life lesson yesterday. I wanted a happy finish photo. The spectators cheered for adversity and our family and friends awaited that Cinderella moment. Police officers cheered us down the entirety of Commonwealth Avenue. Shakeout runners fist-bumped Adam when we turned onto Hereford. Strangers clapped wildly as we made our way down Boylston with an entourage of volunteers. "Go Adam!" they cheered, "you've got this!"

It never occurred to me that giving everything he had might fall short of 3.1 miles.

This was Boston! This was us!

Just past the marathon finish line, he collapsed onto the curb for the final time. I wanted desperately for him to get up, keep going, and push another 10 minutes. But his body had weathered too much. 2.6 miles was what he could do. His legs had gone numb. And the fatigue exacerbated his lack of balance. He had collapsed 3 times already to the pavement.

At the time, I fought back tears as I grabbed the attention of the medical bus. I watched as 3 grown men helped load him up the stairs. I sat quietly next to him, not knowing the words to make it better.

Love is awful sometimes.

But one day, I know we will be retelling this story with a bit of time, distance, and perspective. And we might even laugh. We conquered the Heartbreak Hill of the 5K. He flung his wedding ring down Boylston during one fall and was more concerned about recouping the ring than hurting himself.

He did what he could with what he had yesterday. And I couldn't be more proud that he had the courage to try.

Boston #3: Forever Chasing the Unicorn

The crowd around me is quiet. Idle chatter subsides and nervous energy begins to pulse. I know nothing and everything about this feeling. The anticipation of how the next few hours will play out is largely not in the ability of my body, but in the ability of my mind.

Chancing fate and rebelling against my own superstitions, 3 of my 5 gels are new flavors. My bib number is odd when I prefer even. I'm wearing "strongly discouraged" headphones. The tank I am wearing was a gift I received Friday morning--it's generously sized and I have it safety pinned under my arms. I didn't have any calories planned after breakfast and I ate a bag of discarded trail mix Matt left in the Athlete's Village. My shoes have at least 1,000 miles on them. I clocked my fastest marathon time by 6 minutes 6 weeks prior.  I have to pee.

I stand in the second row behind the rope of wave 2, corral 3. As the volunteers drop the rope, we walk forward. My heart is racing. I put in my earbuds.

The gun goes off.

The pack surges forward and we all move from walk to shuffle to run in seconds. It is a tremendous thing to watch if you can focus on something outside of your mind. A sea of runners begin to snake down the hills of Hopkinton. I stay calm, avoid checking my Garmin, and just run at what feels like a comfortable pace to sustain. 7:34

I want to stay atop being cool and hydrated and though I normally scoff at the first hydration stop of any race, I dump a cup of water over my head. Remembering that I lost a bit of speed last year to weaving, I made the conscious effort to just stay to the left as much as possible in the early miles to hit the second set of tables. The next 3 miles, I look at my watch on occasion as the course descends quickly towards Ashland. I pull back as I see myself drop into the low 7s and reign in the speed. 7:18, 7:18, 7:18

Ashland is the first treat of the iconic crowds of Boston. People are lined half a dozen deep and it. is. LOUD. Even through my earbuds, I can feel the rumble and I get caught up in the excitement of grabbing high fives and reading silly signs. 7:16

The course has a slight up in mile 5 (where I eat my first gross Tutti Frutti GU) and then a nice down heading through 10K mark and into Framingham. 7:16, 7:13

Framingham is louder still and while my pace seems great, I want to make sure I am still having fun in case things go south. Going in for high-fives takes a little extra effort, but it is incredibly worth it. I am riding high on the adrenaline from the crowd when I hear my name being shouted. I see Gwen's friends Cathy and Nicole frantically waving right next to me!

Fresh with vigor from the crowds, I knock off the next miles without really thinking too much about pace or effort and head for the 15K mat. 7:14, 7:15, 7:13

I decide to go ahead and try to keep the calories in and try the Gingerade GU just after the mile 9 marker. It was better than the Tutti Frutti GU, but that's about as rave as the review gets. Gatorade has sometimes not settled well with my stomach in hot races so I decided to just stick with mostly water.

Natick has a gradual incline through a little past the mile 11 mark and then a nice decline to mile 12. 7:13, 7:17, 7:14

Heading towards the halfway mark, I start battling the demons. It starts to feel harder and I allow myself to pull back my effort a tad to feel comfortable. There are sections in the direct sun that I feel uncomfortably warm. Later, I'd appreciate the tailwind, but the feeling of lack of air movement coupled with the blazing sun was tough. I was taking 2 cups of water when I could at each stop. One to drink a few sips from and one to dump on my head/face/neck/back. 7:18

My spirits started to lift as we headed into the Wellesley scream tunnel. I ate second Tutti Frutti gel and reaffirmed that is was not palatable. I watched as girls made faces when runners kissed their cheeks and read their ridiculous posters. I contemplated how we needed to make this a 21st century version and have a male version. Then I decided that was dumb because kissing an 18 year old boy sounds pretty gross actually. 7:16

The funk returned again in mile 15, but I also knew that conserving my energy for the Newton Hills was a smart move. That gnarly downhill in mile 16 only works if you know what to expect when you reach the bottom. 7:27, 7:13

A blast from an open fire hydrant somewhere in the bottom of the Newton Hills changed my experience over the next few miles. The cold blast caused me to shriek and I felt pleasantly cool for the next few minutes. I ran a conservative first half in 2015 and felt pretty good as I tackled the hills. Last year, I went out hard and paid for it somewhere along Commonwealth Avenue. This year, I felt incredibly capable as I climbed up the first set of hills. 7:21

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), my Garmin went haywire after that. It was registering an extra mile all of a sudden. I tried to set a lap pace, but then got confused when it buzzed for the next mile. So, much like my very first BQ in 2013, I just put my head down and ran. This was far from my first marathon. I didn't need my watch to tell me how to run 8.2 more miles.

I had my first delicious GU of the day, pineapple! My stomach was starting to feel a bit queasy, but forcing those calories down helped keep me out of the bonk zone. There were lots of runners now walking on the Newton Hills. A few people were still charging up with me and I tried to catch those that hadn't paid the stiff price of going out too fast.

Heartbreak Hill was as delightfully sinful as always. I now see it as the marker in the sand of getting to the finish. Once you get to the top, it is (almost) all downhill. There is less than an hour of running left and the crowds are so intense that it is impossible not to feel how special this race is.

I definitely know my pace has slowed down, but I am passing a ton of people. I begin to look for the familiar sights and work to click off the mile markers. The train tracks, the first peeks of the Citgo sign, and finally I see the last little incline on the highway overpass. I know that the dip under Massachusetts Avenue is coming and I start to get excited.

As I cross under the bridge, someone taps me on my shoulder. Mr. Bacon comes up on my left side and I yank out my earbuds. I exclaim how I am so happy to see him and immediately realize my blunder when that means he has not had a great day. He takes it gracefully and urges me to run on ahead and I continue the push.

At Hereford, I turn right and the crowd is electric with energy. I make a beeline for the far right side of Boylston, knowing Adam is standing somewhere along the 3rd flower bed. I look for his blue hat, exhausted from 26 miles, and hungry to give us redemption. We finally see each other for the first time as runner/spectator at Boston and both erupt into excited cheers.

Seconds after I pass him, I look at my watch and see 3:12:XX with the knowledge that Boylston is a much longer stretch than it appears. This is it. A PR is seconds on the table. Every stupid fast finish training run is being called into play. Every extra .2 miles I sprint from the last boardwalk to the gravel is for this moment.

Spectators roar as I maneuver to run along the far right. I glance at my watch every 15 seconds. As I approach the finish line, I see that I am just under my PR from 6 weeks ago.

Sweet, sweet victory!

3:13:54

Snickers Albany Marathon RR (aka 28 Marathons Later: From 4:01:09 to 3:13:58)

Sunday A.M., 3/5/2017

Less than 24 hours after the race is complete and I am stewing on the facts.

I've created a monster. 

I am addicted to the hesitancy of mile 8 to go the distance, the self-doubt of mile 17 to maintain the speed, and the sheer physical pain that makes every mile 25 a negotiation to just get to the finish.

It is the penultimate in addiction. The more I train and race, the more I need to go faster and further. I am still in denial about how it truly makes me feel. How can I have had a huge PR yesterday and all I can think of today is what could I have done to go faster?

Who is this person? 

A look at the slippery slope after the race report....

*********************************************************

I made the 3 hour drive to Albany by myself. A rather large contingent of local runners were going as well and offered me a ride, but I was camping (thanks to the kindness of Gary, Travis, and Curtis!) and wanted to have access to all the junk in my car. It was an easy drive filled with plenty of car karaoke and sunshine. I had my usual footlong Italian sub at Subway and drank obscene amounts of water.

I got to the hotel with packet pickup just after 3:00 p.m. The 3:15 pacer happened to be one of two pacers manning the table and I spoke briefly with him. Luckily, I remembered to buy a few gels to pad my supply and then I went to my car to strip down for a brief shakeout run. As luck would have it, there was a nice little Greenway section along the river near where I parked and I took it nice and easy for 10 minutes out, 10 minutes back.

As I was coming back along the sidewalk area towards my car, the finish line was being constructed. I apologized as I came through, but I was secretly elated to have the vision of the finish line in my head. The run itself was pretty terrible. I was struggling through 8:00 minute miles and every little twinge was reminding me of their existence. Hello IT band! Hello Achilles! Oh hello shin, it's been awhile!

But I shoved the negative thoughts aside as I posted to Strava. I have to just trust the process.

It was stupid beautiful outside and so I set up my nail salon next to the Ray Charles statue in front of the hotel. Megan was traveling herself this past week, but she gave me all the polish and instruction. I was quickly reminded why she is so much better at it than I!

Runner friends started pouring in to pick up their bibs and I walked over to the hotel to chat with them and meet new friends. A group of us decided to have the pasta dinner offered by the race in the hotel's conference center. It was exactly the kind of pre-race dinner I like--a little roughage, blandish pasta, and a huge piece of chocolate cake.

After dinner, we met up with the guys I was camping with at Mellow Mushroom for a couple of beers. Being around other runners (and most of these people are also triathletes) is delightfully the same. There is never any shortage of sandbagging and poop-talk.

I followed the guys to the campsite (which also happened to be located in a park with a zoo!) and got my tent set up. We sat around the fire for an hour or two before finally calling it a night. I had plenty of sleep the night before so I wasn't really too worried about how well I was going to sleep on race night. I slept like a brick. I pulled the sleeping bag over my face and seriously woke up to my Garmin alarm clock at 5:25a.m. Not once did I wake up in the night panicked that I had overslept.

When I got up, I decided to eat first (2 pieces of bread with Nutella plus a few swigs of Starbucks Iced Coffee) and then disassemble my tent. By the time I got my camp broken down, I was ready to head to the bathroom and then change. I threw my pajamas back on over my race clothes for the drive because it chilly to be in shorts and a tank.

I followed the guys to the start line and parked in nearly the same spot I had the day before--right near the finish and on the same block as the hotel. It was about 6:20 a.m. Small town races really do have seriously pluses sometimes! We immediately saw some of our other friends and all walked into the lobby of the hotel together to stay warm. I ate my Snickers bar (prerace tradition!) and then decided to make one last bathroom break. Somehow I managed to find the darkened conference room restroom completely open.

Walking to the starting line was no different than any other goal race. I was quiet, withdrawn, and swirling in my own self-doubt. The bigger the stakes, the less likely I am to converse. I said hello to the 3:15 pacer after meeting him the day prior at packet pickup, but kept my conversation to a minimum. We were really close to the starting line as the half marathon and full separated within the first mile. I've only ever been that close in small ultras.

An actual cannon was shot and a couple seconds later, we were on our journey. I pressed start on my Garmin and play on my Shuffle. Lindsey Stirling's Take Flight seemed appropriate for the first half mile. A pack of about a dozen of us jockeyed back and forth behind the 3:15 pacer as the field spread out. There were 2 other females in the pack. A number of the runners were chatty and jovial in the first few miles. I probably came across as rude when one guy started to talk to me about Marathon Maniacs, but I kept my answers short and clipped. Every breath mattered.

The course ran east and south for the first 4 miles before returning to the start/finish area and intersecting with the half marathon course. It was delightfully perfect weather those first few miles and I was comfortable in my tank, shorts, and a pair of gloves. I didn't feel particularly good or bad right away. Honestly, much of the first part of the race is a blur. 7:36, 7:20, 7:31, 7:21

After we intersected with the half marathon course, I remembered to take my first gel at just mile 4--a Cherry Lime Roctane GU. I have had better success with gels and water as sometimes the Gatorade doesn't sit well with my stomach. I accidentally grabbed Gatorade twice on the course and drank one with pretty immediate regret.

Runners began to spread out a little bit more over the next few miles and I was pleased that I could just tuck in behind the pacer and a few of the guys running alongside him. It helped kept the wind to a minimum during those early miles and likely saved my race. 7:32, 7:19, 7:23, 7:23

The pacer peeled off to use the porta-potty around the Albany State University West Campus after we crossed the mile 8 sign. I was confident he would catch back up with our little pack, but I was feeling confident to just go ahead. The knowledge that if he caught up to me meant that I was still in the 3:15 range was a good thing. I would hopefully hang on if he did catch up, but there was a certain feeling of safeness if I stayed out ahead. I had a Honey Stinger Mandarin Orange gel at just past the mile 8 mark.

When our pack loosened up from the pacer pit stopping, I heard a spectator (I'm assuming a coach) shout to a girl in our pack to "tuck in behind someone". We were headed out on a long straight stretch along Gillionville Road and while the wind wasn't bad, it certainly was noticeable. Many of the runners were keeping a pretty even pace so it was easy to just focus on the foot strike of the person in front of me. 7:21, 7:16

Mile 11 brought us through a residential area with a few rolling hills. I had a couple of low moments during that stretch where I watched a few runners pass me though I was keeping a pretty even pace. However, I knew that I couldn't trust my mind so early and that there would still (hopefully) be better patches. 7:22, 7:22

I had another Cherry Lime Roctane GU just past the mile 12 marker and popped 2 Excedrin. I am not sure if the Excedrin is more placebo than painkiller, but I've taken some during ultras and it seems to work. As the course crossed over the 13.1 mile marker, I noticed that I was slightly slower than a 3:15 pace if I wanted even splits. Running that fast wasn't new territory for me, but I had run 2 marathons with positive splits when I had tried to stay in the 7:20s. The hard part was to now trust that I could run a bit faster during the second half. 7:30, 7:26

Mile 15 was spent reeling in a pack of 3 runners who had started with the 3:15 pace group. They had been within my sight the entire race, but I started to slowly pull closer to them. By mile 16, I was running right behind them and happy to be within a pack of people again. My music was blaring, but I could hear snippets of their conversation. I knew I was being annoying being right on their heels, but I justified in my mind at the moment that every edge I could get would help me reach my goal. I had a Huma Chia Apple Cinnamon gel at just past the mile 16 marker. 7:20, 7:25

During mile 17, one of the runners dropped off and then it was just me, a guy, and a girl. They ran side by side for quite some time and then they switched back and forth with one person leading the other. I was always in the back of the peloton and eventually felt strong enough to go towards the front. As I went past, they followed suit for a bit. However, by the time we got to the mile 18 marker, they had fallen back a bit. 7:22, 7:22

I had looked at the course map briefly to know that the lake was near mile 18 and that typically it is a low point in a marathon for me. Running 18 miles and facing 8.2 more always seems daunting. But I was having a great race so far and feeling very little signs of faltering in the last hour. I tried to do a bit of quick runner math to calculate how fast I would need to go to hit the A++ goal of smashing 3:15, the A goal of 3:14:59 (because who wants a :00 when you can have a :59), B goal of sub 3:19:15 (the PR to beat), C goal of a BQ (when did my C goal become BQ??), and D goal of just finish the damn thing. 7:13

I had an Espresso GU at the mile 19 marker and suddenly felt really, really good. Like runner's high good. Something in me knew that I was going to make this happen and I felt so strong. When I crossed the mile 20 mat, a runner next to me exclaimed, "only 10K to go!" 7:23

The next few miles, I was careful to stay calculated in my assault on the last 10K. Those last 27 marathons were useful for something: the last 10K will always make or break a race. There is a reason they call it the wall. But I was strategic in my nutrition and pace and was hoping that I would just let it all out in the last 3-5K. 7:20, 7:17, 7:31

At some point, I saw Nikki and later, Sean out on the final miles of the course. It is always great to see people I know racing and both of them had laid down some killer fast miles early on in the race. Both of them are incredible runners and I was humbled to be shoulder to shoulder with them!

I had grabbed two Hammer Apple Cinnamon gels from one of the hydration stations (swag!) and actually was able to suck down another one at mile 23. Forcing the nutrition early and often seemed to work so I decided to just stay on top of the calories if my stomach could handle it. There were a bunch of turns in mile 23 and I was so ready to start looking for signs that we were headed back to the downtown area. 7:20

With 2 miles left, I was ready to empty the tank. I thought about mile marker 2 on the Greenway and knew that all those progressive runs were for a reason. That 3:15 was going to happen! At this point, I was passing a bunch of runners and each person I picked off fueled my competitive fire. 7:07

Somewhere along the last mile I spotted a group of guys in warm-ups along a straightaway. I knew it was the half-marathoners in the local group that had come back to cheer on the full marathoners. I was in high gear coming in towards them and seeing familiar faces gave me that one last boost I needed to charge towards the finish. 7:08

When I spotted the mile 26 sign, I started keeping an eye out for the mile 13 sign so I could just charge down the finish. Luckily, it was an easy downhill and short straightaway. I leaped over the timing mat with 3:14:XX on the clock. Last 0.4 miles: 7:11 pace

Oh. Em. Gee.

As I clicked off my Garmin and collected myself, I realized that I might actually be 3:13:XX! But I was too elated to care about seconds. I had reached my A++ goal and I felt GREAT throughout most of the race. I believed that I could do it and I did!

I went and sat on the hill next to the finish chute and watched my friends come in. John smashed his PR and earned his ticket to Boston. Casey punched her BQ card by giving it everything she had through the finish line. As we waited for everyone to cross the line, we regaled race stories, drank beer, and enjoyed a gorgeous March day. No matter their time, everyone gave it all they had and being a part of a community like that will leave you pretty darn misty-eyed.

At some point, I went to get my phone out of my car, grab my warm-ups, and check the official time. I was 7th overall and 1st in my age group! 3:13:58

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Many (most?) people reading this will know I've been marathoning since 2009 and running a good chunk of my life. I ran 5 marathons before I got the idea to try to qualify for Boston. I stuck to my training schedule like a perfect type A and had the race of my life on December 7th, 2013. It still gives me chills to think about it. No race has topped it. Not finishing Boston, not winning my first ultra, not finishing my first 100 miler. Nothing.

So maybe I'm in search of that feeling again? I've come close. Yesterday was really, really close. I think when you work for something really hard and still have doubts that it will happen, it feels better when you achieve it. Perhaps that's why I didn't feel that way about Boston or the ultras. I knew I could do it. This felt close because I still had a lot of self-doubt. But it's funny how accomplishing one thing makes you feel like you can tackle the next big thing. Breaking barriers doesn't happen overnight. This has been quite a long journey and yet, I feel like I am just getting started. 

Mercedes Marathon RR: Follow Your Own Dreams

Frank asked, "what's the hardest part of running a marathon? "

"Not wanting to quit when everything in your body and mind are telling you to stop."

It will happen. Sometimes, if you're lucky, it will be a fleeting moment. It will pass over briefly in the 25th mile when the finish line is so close that you might as well just run. And sometimes, it will linger for miles and miles, taunting you to just give up. Or walk. Or at the very least, slow down.

As we lined up between the 7:00 minute per mile and 8:00 per mile signs in the starting corral, I said to John that I never trust how I feel at mile 5. Good or bad, it is never an indicator of the 21+ miles to follow.

Mile 5 is a liar.

I honestly wasn't sure how this race would play out. My running has been consistently strong lately, but I haven't had "proper" rest, recovery, or taper. I ran a 36 mile race on December 31st, a 50K on January 7th, and a 3:20 marathon on January 29th. I am hoping that this early base building will transition into some decent ultras over the summer and fall.

But everyone likes a PR, correct?

Except Birmingham is hilly and this early February day was oppressively humid. The only saving grace was that it wasn't sunny.

After touching the start mat, John shot out ahead of me while I slowly came to life. I was tempted to follow suit briefly before I remembered to stick to the adage of follow your own dreams. He was chasing his own goal of BQing.

I don't remember too much about the first few miles other than my pace was a bit faster than I preferred. Everything else was typical of a mid-sized race with half-marathoners and full- marathoners flooding the streets of downtown Birmingham. I tried to fight the urge to weave and knew that with every step, the field would thin out.

Wanting to stay atop hydration, I grabbed a cup of Powerade from the first volunteer I saw. By the second stop, I was ready to douse my head and shirt with water. Noticing immediate relief, I continued this trend throughout the rest of the race.

I had actually looked at the course map before the race, but totally didn't realize it was a double loop course until race morning. Oops. Luckily John mentioned the double loops before the start. It is a double-edged sword to run a course you've run before. You know what to expect. You know what to expect.

After a relatively flat 5 miles, the course headed to the hills. Rollers and steady inclines filled the course for the next 5+ miles. This was baby stuff compared to trails and ultras, but for a fast marathon, every foot of elevation gain made a difference. I held my pace fairly steady through the hills and picked off runners as we ascended.

A relay runner cut me off in front of a hydration stop to grab a cup of Powerade. I had to slow my pace to keep from crashing into her. She took a few strides and then tossed the cup right in front of me, covering my shirt and face in Powerade. I was so shocked that I said fuck! She quickly apologized after realizing her tossed cup covered me in sugary electrolytes.

I changed my tune quickly within the next mile. A push-rim wheelchair athlete was gutting it out up a particularly steep section. I felt silly for letting the cup thing get to me. Shortly thereafter, I came upon John around maybe mile 7 or 8? and hung behind him for about a mile before I came up next to him briefly. It was only after the race that I realized he followed me for quite some time.

Finally, the hills starting operating in my favor and a couple of nice descents in miles 10 and 11 had me feeling pretty good again. As we came back into town, I realized the long stretch on 2nd Avenue was going to be long and lonely the second time around. It was oddly windy in that stretch and the only time that the temperature felt decent. Runners had already thinned out pretty far and around 1.5 miles or so from the finish, the halfers were separated from the full-marathoners.

I was still feeling pretty good and knew that my miles splits were mostly in the 7:2X range. If I could maintain this speed, I would definitely be able to PR! But as I crossed over the 13.1 mark, I knew there was still half the race to run. The first few miles of the second half were miserably lonely. There were long stretches of the course that there were no other runners nearby and no spectators. The only people I saw were police directing traffic at various intersections.

As I neared the hilly section, I started to feel the symptoms of bonk. My mind and heart were in it, but my legs started feeling heavy and the effort to maintain the pace got increasingly difficult. This was the opposite of the race I had in Miami.

I gave myself a mental pep talk, took a GU, threw water over me at the hydration stop, and held on. It had been quite some time that I wanted to stop and walk a hill in a road marathon. But knowing that I just had to maintain an 8:00 minute mile pace to PR gave me enough reason to keep going. I tugged my visor down and turned up my music. It was just me against the clock now.

As I neared the top of the hilly section, the course became slightly more crowded as half-marathon walkers and relay teams crossed my path. I welcomed their camaraderie and started to give and get cheers. Heading into the windy homestretch, I veered off the right once again with the split. I could barely see any other full runners in front of me, despite the healthy number of halfers on the left.

I think I last looked at my watch around mile 24. The last 2 were just kind of a let's get this done kind of attitude. I projected I was going to have another 3:20:XX and was super satisfied with that considering all that led up to the race and the fact that it was hilly and humid.

I held tight to what I felt I could muster and watched for the mile markers. Mile 25. Mile 26.

As I came around the curve to the finish line, I saw 3:19:XX. My PR was 3:19:22. I ran down the chute, saw Megan and Frank on the sides.

I was full of smiles as I crossed the finish line. When I clicked the stop button on my Garmin, I saw my brand new PR time.

3:19:15!!!!!!!!! 35th Overall, 9th Female, 4th AG.

I'm likely not going to stop racing so much, have a real training plan, or do anything else that might make me super duper fast. I like racing a lot. I like my chillaxed approach to training. Even when I have bad runs or races, it's actually pretty good. I just like running. It makes me happy.

Special thanks to Megan and Frank for our short n' sweet B-ham weekend. #rally And thanks to John and his awesome family for support on race day!