Merrill's Mile 12 Hour RR: Don't Wake Me Up From This Dream

"How many more do you have?" blue shirt runner guy shouted from across the track.

"2!" I exclaimed.

"Are you going to keep going?"

"Of course!"

With an hour and a half left on the clock, I made my goal of 100K. 62 miles in 10:29:45. But the race wasn't to reach a mileage mark and finish. This was a 12 hour race. It was to see how far I could go in 720 minutes.

I had to go on. Despite everything in my body telling my mind to stop, I knew I still was capable of more.

1 year prior, I was in the exact same location, running my very first distance longer than a marathon. I loved it. In the 366 days since, I've pushed the envelope further than I could have imagined. 5 marathons (3 of them in 3:20-3:22 range) and 4 more ultras.

I'm still learning. I'm still making mistakes. But distance running is often an exercise in taking advantage of the really great seconds/minutes/hours and not letting the really terrible times define you. Because there will be terrible times. Even in the best of races, there will be low moments. But that's what makes getting to the finish so much sweeter.

My last race was a hot mess. I had four one too many beers the night before (shocker...), consumed too much fat/dairy in the hours before the race, and continued to dehydrate myself by not drinking early and often. Plus, it was about 15° warmer.

I didn't want to make the same mistakes. The misery was too fresh.

Steve and I did take a very slow hike at Amicalola Falls and up Blood Mountain on Thursday. My calves were a bit sore, but I don't think it had much ill-effect on my race. Plus, I think the mental nourishment outweighed any tightness. We are brewing up some plans to section hike the Appalachian Trail next year and this reignited my desire for adventure.

I hadn't run since Tuesday so we did a short shakeout run at the Greenway on Friday morning. It was a typical Hotlanta morning full of stifling humidity and oppressive heat. A nice reminder to be thankful that we were going to be racing in the dark.

We headed to Midtown after getting cleaned up to eat burgers and drink one last beer together at the Vortex before switching to water and Gatorade. While we were in the area, we took a short walk to and around Piedmont Park before returning to suburbia.

The next 24 hours were pretty uneventful. We ate, hydrated, slept, ate, hydrated, napped, and I made a sign to place with our personal aid station.

Adam drove us up to Camp Frank D. Merrill and Megan was already there when we arrived. She caught a few before snapshots of us while we were counting down to 9pm.

Soon, Steve and I had our bibs, timing chip ankle cuffs, and were standing around receiving "instructions" for the race. Run around the circle. Switch directions when told every 6 hours. Watch out for water moccasins. Have fun.

There were 48 hour (!!!!) and 24 hour (!!!) runners that we were joining on the track. They had started at 9am and looked hot and tired. Our starting group contained 6 hour and 12 hour runners and approximately 25-30 people lined up with us.

My goals were to run 100K and to keep moving for 12 hours. I knew I would feel better earlier and that my pace would naturally wane, but I really wanted to avoid the crash and burn. So I repeated 10 minute miles, 10 minute miles, 10 minute miles over and over knowing that as long as I was within 30 seconds of that, I wouldn't be setting myself up for a complete bonkfest.

Steve explained his strategy of running and then run/walking to me. I got lost in the runner math and decided to just try to run together until one of us felt particularly good or bad. The great thing about a 1 mile loop is that we knew we'd catch up with one another all night even if we separated.

We cruised easy for the first few miles trying to get in sync with a pace. Jeff and his parents arrived right at the start and we were able to wave our hellos to them. Our spectator group decided to take off as we rounded the 3rd lap and around the same time, we switched on our lights for a long night of running.

Steve and I talked back and forth and the first hour went by relatively quickly. We settled into a strategy of stopping every other lap for hydration/nutrition either from the official aid station or our own stash. I was making every attempt at staying hydrated and cool early on. At the sweltering L.A. Marathon earlier this year, I learned that sticking ice in your sports bra is heavenly. So I repeated this genius behavior and attribute much of my success to keeping my core body temperature lowered.

I ate an Uncrustable (grape, duh) early on when I realized I was pretty hungry. I knew that I needed to keep calories in so I was trying to eat something every other time I stopped for liquid even though I was getting some calories from the Mountain Dew and Gatorade.

My legs felt sluggish for the first 15 miles, but everything else was pretty much perfect. I was energized, in a good place mentally, and was relatively comfortable. I stopped to pee which was a good sign that I was hydrating early and often.

Somewhere around mile 17 or 18, Steve pushed me to go on while he walked a bit. We got in a solid 3 hours and though it was early, I knew we'd be able to run more later given the style of the course.

Soon after that, I saw Dan who had come out to set up his stuff for the 12 hour on Sunday as well as support a few other friends running. He ran a 1/2 mile lap with me and it was a nice transition into my loner hours. 

I was feeling so much different than the race I had 3 weeks prior. Everything started to fall in place and I tried to stay on top of anything that might sway me from a great night. Without Steve to talk to, I decided I would wait until somewhere between the marathon mark and 50K to grab my music. It seemed to pay off because some of my fastest miles were between 26-39.

I allowed myself to remember the awesome feeling I had when I finished the lap after the marathon mark last year. I was hoping that I would have a similar feeling as I cruised beyond mile 50 this year.

I did actually start to feel sleepy around 2am so I popped a caffeine pill and drank a few sips of coffee that I cooled off with ice. My feet were sore from all the miles on pavement and I was hoping that I would suffer no long-term effects from repeated doses of OTC painkillers.

Food was getting harder and harder to figure out. I was hungry, but nothing stood out so I just tried a bunch of everything. I ate a couple of mini chocolate donuts (those kind that almost taste like they are coated in wax?) and a fair number of boiled potatoes dipped in salt. I ate another half of an Uncrustable at some point and a bunch of Pringles. I ate some baby pickles, a few peanut M&M's, some orange slices, a couple of hunks of watermelon, and spent the last couple of hours eating a lemon sandwich cookie every other mile.

My Garmin died at mile 39.99 (really?, really.) and so I relied on the time clock and lap counter for the rest of the evening. As I headed into the 7th hour, I realized that I was about to slay my 50 mile PR. I've only run 50 twice and both were on trails, but I figured that this was still pretty awesome considering I still was going to run for nearly 4 more hours afterwards. I finished my 50th lap in 8:07:23!

I was thrilled going into mile 51 and I almost forgot that I was entering new territory mileage-wise. But then again it was 5am and now I was counting down the moments until I could get rid of my head lamp and hat. I caught up with Steve and we ran for a bit together. The sky slowly started to get lighter and though I knew the sun would bring heat, it would also signal that we were nearing the finish.

The light brought the race back to life for many runners. Now that we could properly see each other, there were all kinds of words of encouragement being tossed around. I ran with blue shirt runner guy for a bit and he told me he was aiming for 50 miles. We were both on track to hit our goals and it was exciting that we had an extra time cushion.

I was waving to him and Steve as we went 'round and 'round the circle. When I knew that 100K was locked in barring some act of God, I allowed myself to relax a bit. It seemed unreal that I had run that many miles.

And yet, when I crossed the mat at mile 62, I just kept right on going. I still had an hour and a half left. I ran a few more miles and then I sought companionship. The boredom and fatigue were beginning to consume me and I needed a distraction. When I reached Steve again, we walked and talked. Erin and her niece came just after 8am and they joined us for 2 miles. I grabbed a beer from the cooler as we walked what I thought was going to be my final mile. A victory lap of sorts. 68 laps was more than I hoped for so I was pleased as punch to just enjoy the moment.

But as we neared the last mile, we saw there were still 15 minutes left on the clock. Runnable, but questionably walkable in our zombie state. Erin gave me the challenging push and that was all I needed. I handed Steve my beer and took off hoping to squeak out another mile.

It hurt so good. Knowing that it was just icing on the cake took all the pressure off. I felt as though I was running a 6 minute mile. It was the perfect mix of silly and determined which pretty much sums up my running. With a few minutes still left before the cutoff, I crossed the line for my 69th lap.

Results are still pending so I'm not sure where I placed in the weekend. But no matter what, I am thrilled with my race and even happier that I got to spend the race weekend with my RB.

Steve knocked out an impressive 58+ miles and kept moving and smiling throughout the night. There aren't that many weirdos out there that want to run around in circles in the middle of July in Georgia overnight. I'm lucky to share breakfast beers and cookies with this swell dude from Michigan. Better yet? He and Adam can watch 58590380285 innings of baseball together all weekend while I take naps.

If this is a dream, please don't ever wake me up.

A Midsummer's Night(mare) Dream 6 Hour RR

It's 2:30 a.m. I'm finishing up my 34th mile. Everything is uncomfortable. I am drenched in sweat. My legs are cramping from lack of hydration and electrolytes. It is dark and has been for the past 5 hours. The shadows are beginning to play tricks and the small section of single track is getting tougher to navigate.

But I keep going. One foot in front of the other. Moving faster when I can, moving slower when my body fails me.

Nothing ever lasts. Nothing ever lasts. Nothing ever lasts.

It's been a long time since I've felt so low while running. It humbles me. It rips my confidence up and slashes right through my happiness. I latch on to the fear of running twice the time in just 3 short weeks in likely similar conditions.

I can and I will. I can and I will. I can and I will.



Saturday, 10:30a.m.

I make and eat a giant stack of blueberry pancakes. Carbo-load time.

Then I had to burn away an entire Saturday of basically doing nothing. With the race looming, it was really hard to keep my excitement at bay. I read a bit (David Miller's AWOL on the Appalachian Trail) and took a nap. I ate some pizza mid-afternoon and made sure I was hydrating all day.

I piddled around collecting my gear and personal aid station goodies.

I painted my nails with a Midsummer's Night Dream theme--night sky and whatnot. And glitter. Because glitter is fun.

Adam got home from work and we chatted a bit before I decided it was time for me to head out. The race was about an hour from my house and I left at 6:45p.m. or so. Traffic was minimal and I made it there by 7:45p.m.

Bib pick-up was easy (as is true in all small races) and I set up my gear near the aid station. I talked to a few other runners around me and waited for direction to get started.

 I put Bob (my spectating minion) in my camping chair with a neon glow bracelet on his head. I was hoping this would make me smile every time I came around. Unfortunately, the smiles were few and far between after this.

The race director told us we were to start about 100 yards from the start/finish line because the race was full. The extra distance would help to spread us out once we got to the single track section. No one wanted to be on the "front line", but I happened to be standing up there when were started which was good because the pace was pretty slow for most participants. 2 guys took out pretty fast and I followed behind a girl about my age who was running in the mid-8s.

Though it was 88* at the start, I felt pretty good for the first few laps. I didn't bother to wear my tank and once we got through the first lap, I popped in one ear bud so I could listen to music. The girl was keeping a great pace and I stayed within a few steps of her for about 6-7 miles.

My competitive side was in full force and I didn't want to stop early on at the aid station because I was sure she was running the 6 hour (I am still not really sure if she was or not). However, by the 4th lap, I needed to grab something liquid so I stopped briefly and then caught up with her.

She stopped at the 6-7 mile mark and I never ran with her the rest of the night. I think I saw her a few more times, but the darkness and people shedding clothing made it progressively harder to discern who was who.

I took a few pieces of watermelon and 2 PBJ squares in the first 10 miles, but my stomach started to feel queasy not too soon after that. I was trying to alternate Mountain Dew and water as I had at Gnaw Bone, but soon I was so nauseous that I had to grab Tums from my aid station.

I was kind of paying attention to my pace, but the darkness made it so I really only looked at my watch every once in awhile.

When I got to the half marathon mark, I started to go rapidly downhill. I think I ate a total of 4 watermelon pieces, 3 pretzels, and an orange slice in the last 24 miles. I was incredibly nauseous and could hear my stomach sloshing after I tried to drink a half bottle of water thinking it would help with dehydration. I went to the porta-potties 4 times and the intensity of need increased through the night. Several times I questioned whether or not I would make it to the proper facility in time.

Those middle miles were absolute hell. There was a group of army rangers doing a series of night exercises on the same course with full gear. I wanted to use them for my inspiration, but shamefully, I was just annoyed that I was forced to weave in between them on the same course. When their vehicles came up and down the small, single lane gravel road, I cringed at the dust and exhaust fumes.

Everything was annoying me. I was annoyed that other runners were laughing and having a good time. I was annoyed that the aid station didn't have prepoured drinks. I was annoyed that the soda I drank wasn't flat. I was annoyed that my ear bud was falling out. I was annoyed that my feet felt dusty and dirty from the terrain. I was annoyed that it was hot. I was annoyed I had a huge box of goodies and the only things I used came from the "medical" side of the box.

In retrospect, there were a few good things going on. I was keeping a pretty decent pace despite all my breaks in the middle miles. My legs didn't hurt. My feet didn't hurt. I was continuing to move forward despite everything in my mind telling me to stop.

I really wanted to stop.

Somewhere near the upper 20s, I decided to just stop trying to drink anything and put my head down and move. I shuffled along and forced myself to go a lap (1.2 miles) without stopping. Once I got through that, I walked a minute or so and then repeated it again.

When I got to 2:30p.m., I contemplated the ridiculousness of running in circles in the middle of the night in June in Georgia. I could just stop and be happy with 30-some odd miles. But I tucked in behind 3 runners who were happy and talking and laying down a nice pace late in the race. So I followed behind the pack of 3 for the next 15 minutes. I let them guide me to the last lap and when the clock showed 5:47, I decided to keep going for 1 more lap when 2 of their 3 runners decided to call it a night.

I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to finish before the 6 hour mark as I headed down the single track for the last time. My body was spent. I wavered between just walking it and making a final "push". In reality, I continued to shuffle until I reached the final bend and then shuffled a little faster closer to the finish line.

Done. Finished. Complete. Signed, sealed, delivered.

I bent over and then laid in the grass huffing and puffing by the timing tent. My legs cramped up immediately after stopping and I took a few minutes to collect myself.

This was a small race. But winning overall is still really cool. And this one meant even more considering the amount of times that I was ready to throw in the towel. 

I've had a day and a half to wrap my head around this race. It wasn't the furthest I've run. It wasn't the fastest I've run. I've run in hotter temperatures. But I think these were the biggest demons I've faced while racing. And not giving up was huge. I have thought long and hard about that last lap. 5:47 is really close to 6 hours. I could have just forgone that last lap and stopped. At the time, I thought I was at least a few laps ahead of the other racers so the thought was appealing to stop. But I decided to push for one more and that ultimately was what separated me from the second place finisher.

More importantly, aside from obvious injury or debilitating pain, this race made me feel stronger as an endurance runner. Spending a little time on the dark side was good for me to experience. I have shaken it and am ready to move on.

In fact, I might have run today....

I can't let it consume me

Two days ago, I looked in the mirror and didn't see noticeable ripples on my thighs. Where did my cellulite go?! I thought the mirror was playing tricks on me so I went in and out of the light. And then to a different mirror. Still not really there.

I felt elated at first. I hadn't tried to make it disappear and yet, it was gone!

But then like a slowly deflating balloon, I started to feel mad. Mad at myself for caring that it was there in the first place. Mad at myself for putting self-worth on my appearance. I'm not supposed to be the type of person who cares about this kind of stuff!

19 years ago I spent almost an entire year caring so much about my weight that I was on the brink of complete self-destruction. I went from a happy, healthy 130-pound girl.... to a selfish, obsessed 80ish-pound shell of my former self. I lost friendships, I scared my family, and I spent a week in a hospital.

One day, nearly a year after my downward spiral, I snapped out of fog and began the journey to recovery.

Within 6 months, I was back to a normal weight and able to run normally again.

However, it took years before I stopped truly obsessing about food and weight. And despite having a healthy relationship with food now, I can never escape all of those habits completely. It's like a scar that fades away slowly, but you can always still see it.

Running was part of my life before anorexia, during it, and after it. It was a small contributing factor to my weight loss, but food was the the #1 enemy. I have always been mindful of trying to maintain a healthy relationship with running. Always taking rest days. Always being okay with forgoing a workout for socializing, sleep, or just plain laziness. Always respecting what my body can handle and making tweaks along the way.

I hope running and I can be happy and healthy friends for a long time.

Which brings me back to my cellulite story. Instead of being proud of all my legs have done for me in the last 6 months, I was stupidly only elated about their appearance. Which is extra stupid as I am likely the only person who notices or cares.

I don't judge my friends/family on how they look, so why am I doing it to myself?!?! 

It made me think about one of my newfound running #sheroes who posted this last week on Instagram:

Sally McRae is a badass runner. She eats mountains for breakfast and still has enough energy to let her infectious laugh bring a smile to every person she meets. 

Sure, lots of pro distance runners fit into the stereotype of incredibly lean and compact. But much like recreational runners, everyone is different. And playing the comparison game is likely only to infuriate. You do you.

This goes for weight. This goes for how far. This goes for how fast. This goes for everything.

If you inspire someone along the way to be a better version of themselves, awesome. We are all in this thing together. A finish on the podium is just as worthy as the person who had the courage to start.

I digress.

I remember a runner telling me that he had given up all sweets during his 18 week marathon training period. He was so excited that he "got to" eat a cookie after the race. For some reason, this has stuck with me ever since I heard it. Perhaps he felt the need to earn it? Perhaps he was afraid 1 cookie would lead to 400 cookies? Perhaps he had his own bad relationship with food?

But I couldn't help but think that for me, I was happy that I was living a life that was okay with eating a cookie.

Maybe I'd be a few seconds faster if I didn't order a double waffle cone of cookies n' cream. Maybe I'd inch closer to a 3-hour marathon if I really got structured with my training.

But I'm happy. Like really, really happy. I love going out for random adventures in the woods and running until I'm bone tired. I love watching Netflix and YouTube videos on the treadmill and just slipping into the easiness of a recovery run. I love running into the sunset on the Greenway after 8 hours of work on my feet and suddenly feeling recharged. I love running road marathons and trail races. I love competing to be the best version of me (the one that allows for nachos and beer) and I love helping others be the best version of themselves. I love that after over 20 years of running I am still able to get that wheeeeeeee feeling every once in awhile.

I know what I need to do to train at the distances that I compete. I respect the distance. But I don't let training consume me. I can't let it consume me. We promised to be friends for a long time.

Gnaw Bone 50 Miler: Spontaneous Muddy Funning

3 years ago this month, I was contemplating running 2 marathons in the same year. It seemed a bit crazy. Training for one took 3 months! Could I dedicate 6 months out of the year to marathon training?!

Fast forward through 16 marathons and 3 ultras and I find myself texting Steve (aka rp9919) in early April about a possible marathon in May. Nothing for time, just a fun run (!?!). I was on a roll with a marathon every month since December and where else to get some ultra training than during a marathon?

Except he was already signed up for a 50 miler. And Boston was on the schedule in just a couple of weeks.

Well........

I said I'd wait until after Boston to pull the trigger. It would be silly of me to register if I felt like I needed a break after Boston. And I wouldn't know until a few days out from that.

Boston came and went. Body felt good. Mojo felt good. I could just go and log some training miles, right? No need to necessarily RACE....

I sign up, we pick a camp site, and then I am basically tapering again. 4 marathons and a 50K are a pretty decent base, right?

I get up super early on Friday partially so that I can hit the hay early for the painful wake up on Saturday morning and partially to have a little more time relaxing that afternoon with Steve.

I drive from my sister's house in west Atlanta and make myself wait a couple of hours to grab coffee. Like a reward or something.

Except I cannot find my wallet. Oh. S%$&*(. I tore my car apart, called my sister, and eventually found where it had fallen out into my clothes bag. Admittedly, the first thing I thought was I can't buy coffee! Then I thought I can't buy gas! Then I though I can pick up my bib without my driver's license! Lastly, I thought I can't drive without my driver's license!

Once I had my coffee and wallet, I was much, much happier. I sang loudly through the smoky foothills of Tennessee.

Strangely enough, after stopping for lunch, gas, and a few pit stops, I managed to pull into the campsite gate right in front on Steve. Hah! Perfect timing. We got to our camp site and picked a spot to set up our tents.

So my tent is the blue one. It came from Groupon Goods and I think we paid a whopping $30 for it. I was a bit hesitant, but it seemed like it would survive a couple of evenings in May. Whatever, I had my car as back up...

We went to bib pick up and got our gear, signed our waivers, and then decided to relax a bit more before heading into town before dinner.

Pizza seemed like a good idea so we drove around Nashville, Indiana a bit before settling on Big Woods Brewing Company. We split a 16" Hawaiian pizza (the server was super impressed we finished the entire thing) and a couple of beers.

We set up our gear for the next morning when we got back and then tried to get some sleep.

There were a bunch of guys yelling and laughing until about midnight. And then the rain cut them off. I laid in my tent hoping that my $30 tent wouldn't leak water in the middle of the night as I listened to it rattle in the thunderstorm. Fortunately, I eventually dozed off from exhaustion and got a few hours of sleep. At 4:15am, I woke up to the rain and contemplated how I was going to get dressed, eat breakfast, and stay dry-ish until the start. I got dressed in the bathroom and ate in the car. I definitely was not feeling awake though even with a bit of coffee. Ugh.

We drove to the start and parking was a breeze with a small race. No lines or even people near the port-a-potties. When Steve and I wandered over to the start "corral", we were on the front line.

The 50 milers started first and the other distances started in descending order over the early morning. Steve thinks there were approximately 58 starters?

The first half mile is on a gravel path that is very easy running and the rain has subsided to a mist at this point. Though I'm not awake, I am aware that at least my body feels pretty good. We veer off the gravel path and then up about 400' of a ski slope that has ankle deep mud. The kind that will pull your shoes off if they aren't tied tight enough. The kind that makes gross slurping noises. I am giggling because it is just sloppy, slow-moving ridiculousness in the dark. Everyone is coated from shoes to thighs in mud.

Eventually, it starts to flatten out a bit and while the mud is still prevalent, the footing slightly easier without the extra climbing. Day light makes it even easier and we are switching off our head lamps before we reach the first aid station.

The next section I finally feel like I am getting into a groove after fighting with the mud. The trail is much easier and we are going down a bit. I begin to shake off some of the early funk attributed to lack of caffeine and sleep. Steve and I are enjoying a pretty easy pace knowing that we have a long day to keep running.

From here it gets tricky to remember exact details. We did run with a girl for a bit early on who does a bunch of racing and had on a Western States shirt (2014). She stayed with us for a few miles and then took off. We played leap-frog all day. There was a guy we picked up for a bit who eventually would finish between Steve and I.

We did stop at the drop bag aid station at mile 11 so that Steve could change his socks and I could use a proper toilet. Both of us were much happier right after that.

There was a stupid, stupid, stupid section at mile 19 that we renamed Hemorrhoid Hill in honor of our choice conversation and the huge pain in the ass navigating this section of trail. Climbing over 1-2 trees is no big deal. Climbing over and under trees trying to figure out where the trail was is a bit different. Fortunately, we always found the little pink flags pretty quickly, but there was a lot more hiking/orienteering and less actual running.

There was some section in the upper teens that was a creek bed. We were running down a creek. It was sloppy, muddy, wet, and footing was terrible. But it seemed easy once we got to the hill that we had to crawl up because it was so muddy and steep.  I was grabbing onto tree limbs hoping that I wouldn't fall back down into the creek. And after gaining a bit of footing, it was another section of sharp ascent to the top.

Sheesh.

We covered two separate sections of stairs together. One had about 100, one was 160. The one with 100 stairs we had to do again in the second loop. Yippee?

I was eating Oreos and drinking Mountain Dew at the aid stations. I got the volunteers to fill up one of my bottles halfway with Mountain Dew. It seemed to perk me up and it was cool enough that I wasn't really needing to drink a ton. I had handfuls of Pringles and bites of PBJ. I grabbed a salted potato and a stack of saltines at one of the aid stations. When I was out on the course, I was supplementing with gummy bears, Roctane GU, and Clif Shot Blocks.

Somewhere in the low 20s, my Garmin starting beeping low battery. I had my back up in my pack ready to go. Eventually, it faded to black around mile 29. I started up the second Garmin only to have it last about 7 miles. Womp, womp....

One of the prettiest sections of trail was right after the halfway point. Lots of big beautiful trees and gorgeous flat single track trail.

When we got to Hesitation Point the second time, Steve was insistent that I go on without him. He said he wanted to walk/run the rest of the way and told me to give him a hug and keep going. I was embattled at this point. How do you leave your RB after 30 miles?! He had been encouraging me to go ahead for miles, but I was really enjoying someone to talk at.

Whatever/however he said it this time made me think it was okay to leave him and so I started down the next section by myself. I was feeling really good and on an up for about 4 miles. I passed a few guys that had passed us earlier and was brimming with confidence. Even a pit stop behind a tree couldn't hold me back!

But then the top of foot right across where my shoelaces were started to ache. I was trying to fix the tongue of my shoe because it kept slipping, but this didn't alleviate the pain. I ran for a couple more miles before I finally got to a picnic bench where I could lift my foot onto the table. Do you know how hard it is to untie and retie your shoe after 38 miles? But behold, instant gratification! My shoes were tied too tightly and after swelling slightly while running that long, they were being bruised. Genius. Pure genius.

So after I resolved this situation, I noticed my second Garmin was dead. When I finally came to the next aid station, I asked how many miles I had left. They told me I was at 40.6, so 9.4 miles to go. I was going to get this thing done.

Eventually, I got to the paved road section and chased down a relay runner which at the time gave me delirious happiness. I was probably running 10 minute miles, but I felt like The Flash. I knew that when I got to that final major aid station at the end of the pavement that it was time for the homestretch.

It was both wonderful and terrible to have no clue how close I was in those final miles. Just when I thought I'd crested the hill or made the final turn, I saw a new, longer, higher, muddier stretch of trail. I chanted to myself I can, I will, I can, I will, I can, I will. I was having actual conversations out loud, with myself about how dumb mud was and how this was just silly. But in my heart, I was loving how much grit this was requiring. If I could conquer this amid covering 50 miles, well, heck, I can handle a lot.

I finally crested a hill and spotted the main road with a structure that appeared to be building next to the finish line. The hill, which doubles as a ski slope in the winter, was a major quad burner. I was trying to run gingerly down the darn thing, but really, after 49 miles, it was kind of impossible. Once I got to the bottom, I realized I still had to run across a field because the structure was not the finish line area.

About 200 yards from the finish line (give or take, I'm terrible at that kind of thing), I came up to the "trail" marked with pink flags that went directly into a river with knee high water. Other runners were running through the creek and I followed them in through the other side. Then I didn't see any more pink flags and I wanted to just cry. How do I get to the finish line?!?!

A nice relay runner got back into the creek with me and pointed to the pink flags that followed the bank of the river towards the finish. At least I still had to get in the river...

The finish chute was within sight!!

I was so happy that my 10 hour, 53 minute slog was a success!

I actually was so delirious that I bent down and kissed the finish line grass. Wiping grass from mouth, I accepted my "Age Group Award" and saw that I was 3rd female. Don't be too impressed. I think only 6 females finished. Only a total of 28 people (of 58?) finished.

I put on warm clothes, grabbed a beer, drank said beer, grabbed food, and settled in at the finish line to watch for Steve.

He was in good spirits coming in and happy to be finished. He got a beer and we took it easy before heading back to the camp site for showers and clean clothes. After a trip into Bloomington for a car key battery and dinner, we had a beer in his tent before I crawled back into mine for the best sleep I've had in a long time.

I am so glad that I got to spend 30 miles with my running buddy and even happier that it was a memorable adventure. It was a tough course, but I feel like a better runner for having completed it. Plus, I have a new PR-on-my-feet which will make the 12 hour race seem much more doable. So while I was completely off of my 50 mile PR, I know that I gained some serious experience points. And fun points.

Sometimes the best decisions in life are the least planned. A sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs solo road trip through a sliver of America to camp and run with your running buddy that you met on the internet for a last-minute decided ultra on a cold and rainy weekend is as fun as you make it.

Boston Marathon 2016: From Funkytown to Boylston

You only get one chance at your first Boston. 2015 was overwhelmingly perfect in every way possible that I truly couldn't have asked for a better experience in 2016. I cannot deny my excitement to be toeing the line in Hopkinton (again? wow!), but I also had different goals and dreams this year.

Adam and I flew in on Saturday--I was superstitiously happy to be in position 26B for boarding.

We did an Airbnb this year about a 10 minute walk from the Prudential Center which ended up being the perfect place for everything we did. Plus, it was inexpensive & clean!

I wasn't thinking we'd have enough time to go to the expo on Saturday, but as soon as we dropped our stuff, we decided to try to squeeze it in.

Packet pick up was a breeze and then we squeezed our way through the expo talking to a few choice vendors. Hoka, Garmin, and of course, the Sam Adams free beer tent.

 I swear my name is on here somewhere...

Fortunately, we were able to catch up with Roger and Shanda immediately afterwards and head to Cambridge Brewing Company for a Loopster dinner. It was great to see everyone and carb up!

The next morning, Adam and I wandered over to meet up with Dan, Mark, and Rebecca for coffee and breakfast. We parted ways near the expo and I was able to take a few pictures near the finish line.

We had lunch with Roger and Shanda and then parted ways for a nap and a little downtime. I laid out my flat girl and figured out how to attach the St. Christopher's medal that Megan let me borrow from her dad. He is about to start treatment for lung cancer and I wanted to carry a little token from him. Partially as a reminder to be appreciative of each healthy step as I am able to take and partially as a reminder to enjoy every moment I've got in the this called life.

For dinner, Roger made reservations at a great place in Little Italy and we carbed up early in attempts to get some sleep. I got everything ready for my breakfast the next morning and made a final check of my gear.

I actually slept really well and managed to get about 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.  At 5:30 a.m., I woke up, ate a bagel with Nutella, a banana, and drank a cup of Death Wish coffee. I put on my gear, grabbed my T card, and kissed Adam goodbye.

I walked down to the T station in just a sweatshirt, carrying my heatsheet in a plastic baggie. It was already warm enough that I was comfortable in shorts. Uh oh... Once I got off the train at Boston Common, I started chatting with a few runners around me about various things and made my way to the buses that were loading.

I talked next to a guy from South Carolina who was running his second marathon after qualifying for his first with a 3:11 despite running 3 extra miles on a course he got lost on (!!). Boston was a bucket list thing for him and he was the kind of guy that ran really fast without using a GPS watch. We talked the entire bus ride and then parted ways once we got into the craziness of the athlete's village.

I made a beeline for the porta-potty in the second tent area and was super excited that I didn't have to even wait in line! I grabbed another bagel afterwards and sat on the grass in the shade doing some serious people watching. I was in a funk and really wishing that I had made better arrangements to try to meet up with all the people I knew running.

I decided to go to the porta-potty again before my wave was called and ended up standing in the hot sun for 30 minutes. It was a bit concerning that I was feeling hot already and we hadn't started running.

When wave 2 was called, I just finished my pit stop and joined the throngs of others as we made our way to the starting line. Two girls were pumping sunscreen from giant containers on the side of the road and I took a generous pump to coat my neck and shoulders. Totally forgot about the sunscreen...and my sunglasses....

So as I'm standing in my corral, I'm feeling a bit off. My mind is in a funk. I'm hot. I know I am going to be sunburnt in weird places when I finish. I don't have my sunglasses and we are running east at 10:25 a.m. I see other people with music and all of sudden feel the need to have this crutch.  The tape I used to put my name across my singlet is falling off.

Get your shit together Liebowitz! You are running the Boston-frickin'-Marathon!!!

So I try to focus on how cool it is that it is Marathon Monday and I should stop being such a whiny little bitch. I check out my pace bracelet again and fiddle with my Garmin. There is a song, a few more announcements, and then omigod, omigod, omigod, the starting pistol.

There is a little awkward jogging before the start line, but I am diving right into a sub-8 pace within the first 1/10th mile. I notice the downhill a lot more than last year and I am ready to just get to my goal pace.

Which is?!?!

I was aiming for sub 3:20. I had a pace band with 3:18 that Adam printed out for me at the expo. I knew something in the 7:3X range would get me there.

First mile is at a 7:27. Alright, alright, alright.

It feels like the right combination of comfortable and working.

The next few miles click off as we cruise downhill 7:28, 7:28, 7:18. I'm noticing the terrain a lot more than last year and trying to cautiously take advantage of the early downhills. I also notice there is a lot less talking among my fellow runners and at small sections without spectators, the slapping of shoes on the pavement is the only noise. I take my first GU at mile 4.

Mile 5 has a slight uphill and I cruise through at 7:35. On through Framington, I clock 7:25, 7:21, 7:28. I am taking water and/or Gatorade at each stop. I hug the right side of the road which is kind of dumb because that side is always first and more crowded. But I am so dang thirsty by the time I get to the stop that I don't want to wait another 1/10th mile. I splash water over my head and try to bring my body temperature down. It brings instant relief, but the feeling is usually gone within a few minutes.

Into Ashland, I start to lose a bit of pace, but I try not to worry too much because it is still early. 7:30, 7:34, 7:37, 7:30. The crowds are so, so good and yet I am not feeling enthusiastic about it. What in the heck is the matter with me?

I ran next to a girl dressed as Wonder Woman for at least the first half of the race. We would leapfrog back and forth and I knew she would be near me because the crowds were going wild for her. At first, it was kind of fun because the cheering would amplify. But then I think I was suffering from jealousy as she would be whooping with the crowds in her cool costume while I was stuck in mopeyheadland with my dumb singlet with the letters falling off.

As I headed into the Wellesley mile, I tried to shake the funk. I still was on pace to hit the 3:18 and well within a PR. So when I cruised into the scream tunnel, I tried to soak in the energy as best I could. I saw a guy beeline for the cutest girl in stretch and laughed as she made a face as soon as he was off running again. Suddenly, it was a little fun again. 7:36

I told myself to just hold onto what I could muster and prepare myself mentally for the hills ahead. 7:34, 7:43.

As I headed into the sweet downhill of mile 16, I felt mentally prepared to tackle the hills. 7:31.

Hills are my jam. I love shortening my stride and tackling them head on. People had already been walking by this point, but the hills seemed to amplify the effect. I just put my head down and ran. 7:49, 7:47, 7:31.

Okay, who finds their mojo at mile 18?!?! Seriously, it was the best mile I felt all race. I ran through a little misting tunnel thing and suddenly I felt fabulous. I knew it wouldn't last another 8 miles so I just tried to live in the moment.

As I headed into the last section of the Newton Hills, I was relieved that I was in the single digits now to finish. 7:46, 8:03. Heartbreak was definitely breaking a lot of hearts.

But the rest of the course is packed and downhill and I knew that even though I had felt pretty funky all race, I was excited to get to my favorite part. The Boston College kids are some of the best and loudest spectators on the course and I high-fived a bunch of them as I cruised through mile 22. 7:38

The crowds thicken as the race enters Brookline and though I'm not on pace, I am feeling good enough to pass a lot of runners. This is bittersweet. The final miles of a marathon hold so many emotions and it can feel incredibly defeating when you are on the bonk side of things. Trust me, I've been there (my first marathon and Jackson Hole Bonkfest 2014 immediately come to mind). 7:41, 7:46.

Garmin is off by a bit at this point and I try not to get excited when I hear the beeps because I know I still have more to go. I have given up on trying to do runner math at this point. I'm just running as fast as my little legs will take me. I see the Citgo sign at mile 24 and know that I am getting closer. 7:42.

When I get near the Citgo sign, I look for Liz and her balloons and miraculously spot her. I shout her name and run by her as she fumbles with her phone. She knows like, a billion runners, so I'm not even sure if she knew who I was as I went by.

I know I want to save a little gas for Boyston so I try to conserve my pace. Last year, I thought I was going to be done right after the turn and grossly misjudged how far that finish chute really is. 8:03

Finally, I spotted the tunnel and then, the turn! Right on Hereford!

Then left on Boylston!

I looked for Adam in the crowd, but there were way too many people so I just "sprinted" down the finish chute. The crowds on Boylston are insane. There really is nothing better in running that I've experienced so far than running down Boylston. Last 0.4 miles at a 7:15 pace.

After I crossed the finish mat, I patted a guy on the back who had been cheering wildly the last half mile. He exclaimed he just had a huge PR and was so thrilled. We hugged a giant, sweaty, runner-stranger hug, and I immediately was awash with my own emotion. This is why.

3:20:59. 47 seconds from my PR on a day that Garmin says was 68* and my 5th marathon in as many months. And a nice course PR from my 2015 time of 3:26:27. I'll take it.

I had a few takeaways from this race. I still feel like I'm learning even though this was marathon 21. I also feel like I am making dumb mistakes, but that is the human part of all of this.

DO's Take a magic token, GU every 4 miles, water and/or Gatorade at every stop, pace band (even though I didn't hit my pace, I liked the idea of immediate runner math), enjoy the good moments

DON'Ts Forget sunscreen, forget sunglasses, wear shoes with 300+ miles, forget to test tape, forget to create a game plan to meet up with fellow runners in the athlete's village, forget why we do this

Making impossible things become possible.

What a difference a year makes. Last year when I was prepping for Boston, I was taking every workout so seriously and everything was so planned. This year, well, I'm just a bit more focused on the long-term. There is no doubt that I want to do well in Boston. It's Boston. I still have incredible respect for the marathon distance and couple it with the world's most famous race....

But I'm not so nailed down to specific workouts. Structured speed work is completely absent. I just run everything without looking at my Garmin and see what happens at the end. My long run build up has been 3 marathons and a 50K since January with a few 14-21 milers thrown in for good measure. Recovery runs and base-building miles are really just time that I get to spend with Flying Tomato and Netflix/YouTube (more on that later).

Sure I want to PR. Sure I want to have another race of my life in Boston. Sure I want everything to be perfect.

But geez, I cannot expect the rainbows and unicorns and puppies to last forever. I am a real person. I do have days that I poop under a bridge on a horrible training run. I do have days that I stop my Garmin 400 times to fake tie my shoelace when I really just need a rest break. I do have days that I am like, what in the f--- am I doing out here. I do have days that I fall flat on my face despite nothing being in my path.

^----All this has happened in the past 2 weeks.

I do have days that the sun is shining in the bluest sky I've ever seen and I'm romping through the woods like when I was a kid. I do have days that I run 10 miles with a friend and remind myself how lucky I am to be healthy enough to just go run 10 miles with a friend. I do have days that begin as an easy treadmill run and end with me bursting at the seams with inspiration.

^-----All this has also happened in the past 2 weeks.

I don't really know what the point of this post is yet. Maybe a metaphor for running? I do like having goals. It gives my running purpose. It makes me happy to go faster or longer. But I also am not afraid to enjoy the moment. Maybe I'm strange that I catch myself smiling mid-run because everything is clicking. Because much like the pain of something really, really hard, the joy of something really, really great never seems to last.

I've always been obsessed with stories of endurance. Humans that have the capacity to survive tough situations fascinate me. What is it that allows them to triumph in the end? What is it that gives the mental and physical strength? Many runners can attest to the notion that mental strength is far more prized the longer the distance. The fact that "normalish" people can put their bodies through incredible physical obstacles is fascinating.

So while I'm cooking up ideas on how to make the most of a 12-hour race in July and 24-hour race in September, I am reading/watching feats that seem superhuman to me.

Netflix: The Barkley Marathons, Desert Runners, 4 Minute Mile

YouTube: Western Time (Billy Yang), Tarawera Ultra Marathon (Dreamteam Television), Paula Radcliffe (Sports Life Stories), The North Face: Curiousity

Reading: Running on Empty (Marshall Ulrich)**, Running for My Life (Lopez Lomong), Again to Carthage (John L. Parker), Run Gently Out There (John Morelock)

**I actually hated this book save for the feat of running across the United States. Make your own judgements, but I think Ulrich is a selfish a-hole.

These movies and stories leave me feeling like I have so much more to conquer. Which is fun to dream about. Because dreams can eventually lead to reality. I'm slowly realizing how to make seemingly impossible things become possible. The scariest part is being okay with failure. Once that is on the table, it suddenly becomes okay to try.