Endless tomorrows

I thought not of the day's worries and sorrows but rather my mind filled with flurries of endless tomorrows. 

As I sit in a seminar, contemplating how long it will take me to finish my experiments this afternoon, I waffle about whether to run 8 or 10 miles later today. My hip flexor felt a little tight this morning on my walk in, perhaps I should just do 8, my legs need a little rest. "Just do 8? Who is writing this blog?", you ask, perplexed. Certainly it can't be the quality-not-quantity middle distance runner you've grown to know. 

"It is still me!" I exclaim, a newly minted mileage buff. The past couple of months I have been flirting just above and below 60 mile weeks, and partially adopted a naive sense of being part of the club. The club of long distance runners, marathoners, those undergoing the real trial of miles. I don't want to mislead you, I am very aware that I'm not running high mileage. BUT I have been running high Robyn mileage. In other words, I've (finally) figured out a training regimen that does not result in physical breakdown over 40 miles per week. 

No, I'm not moving up to marathons (or 10Ks for that matter), I'm still focused on breaking 5:00 in the mile. August is wrapping up and I have just a few more weeks of my mileage base before I transition to lactate threshold and tempo work - sticking in the 50's for weekly miles. I'm not sure how my indoor track season will pan out, but it's fun to find new comfortable states in my training. Especially finding a way to reliably increase my volume by a whopping 25-30 miles per week. I still surprise myself when I think of an 8 mile run as an easy day, however, there are many training challenges to come... I'm just going to savor this feeling for now. 

PS - Random destination run recommendation: Niagara Falls, Toronto side at 7-8am (before the tourists!) to the butterfly gardens

PPS - If you're curious, the main 3 changes to my training are:

1. Inhaler - controlling my asthma has drastically improved my recovery between training runs

2. Hip circuit - religious strengthening & range of motion exercises 3x per week has kept me moving relatively pain free

3. Dairy - this delicious food group makes me feel ill/fatigued, so now, sadly, I eat less of it. (<3 cheese forever)

Boston Marathon Recap

It took me five months to train for Boston, three and a half hours to run it, and now two months to blog about it. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, after all.

What is there to say about April 18^th, the 120^th Boston Marathon? Or better put, what isn’t there to say? The 24 hours surrounding the Boston Marathon were, hands down, the best day of my life. Everything about my experience running Boston was amazing, but it wasn’t just the race itself. Let’s start a little further back…

In October of 2015 I was accepted both to run the Boston Marathon and to fundraise on the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team to raise money for cancer research. Having already run one successful marathon, I knew what the training entailed and was confident in my ability to pump out the miles and gain strength. I was much more daunted by the prospect of raising $10,000. My parents flat-out said it couldn’t be done. But this was a truly important cause to me and I vowed to both run and fundraise as best I could.

The Dana-Farber team is an incredible network of passionate and driven people, committed to eradicating cancer. Their stories, reasons and motivations for fundraising and running Boston are inspiring. The majority of them live and train in Boston, and because I was in Connecticut, I was not able to connect with many of them. And so I trained out there on my own, and raised thousands of dollars—thanks to many of you. I did want to feel like a part of this team, however, so my parents and I attended the DFMC pasta dinner the night (or really afternoon, dinner started at 4 pm) before the race.

As I’ve said and written many times before, I have my own reasons for fundraising for Dana-Farber and felt strongly about making my first Boston Marathon about more than just myself. I thought that my movitation would be enough to get my from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. While I enjoyed my plate full of different kinds of pastas, I soon came to realize how much more of an impact Dana-Farber would have on me. Like me, there were many first time runners and fundraisers, about to toe the line and unsure of exactly how the race would unfold. And there were also runners who had volunteered five, ten or more years of their lives to putting an end to cancer. Their countless miles logged and hundreds of thousands of dollars raised set a fire within me. Naturally each of these runners had started because of a personal incentive, but throughout the years they realized that they were fighting a bigger fight. Even though I did not yet know any of these teammembers personally, I wanted to follow in their footsteps and continue fundraising and doing my part as well to help find a cure for cancer. Many of my teammates had also paired with a patient partner, a child being treated by Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. During the dinner, the patient partner teams of runner and child came onto the stage for recognition and the kids each received a marathon finisher’s medal. For me, this was the most moving part of the whole event. Up on that stage could have easily been my brother, had he not been lucky enough to be cured. Up on that stage could easily have been my little cousin, who is being treated by DFCI right now for a severe cancer. Up on that stage could have been any number of friends and family members. I was so thankful that David is healthy, and in that moment I was heartbroken for all of these patients, as well as inspired. I would run for them! They would all be waiting at mile 25, and this is what would get me through the hills and hard moment of the race.

Heading into the pasta dinner, I did not have many goals; I wanted to raise $10,000 (which I did!), and I wanted to have a great race. After the moving presentations from so many teammembers and people affected in so many ways by cancer, I readjusted. I needed to requalify for Boston. I needed to run for Dana-Farber again. I needed to continue to help in any way that I could to find a cure for cancer. In a matter of hours, my finishing goal went from sub-4 to sub-3:35. And given that my training had not gone nearly as well as I’d planned, and I hadn’t done a significant amount of strength or speed work, I was not sure that I could physically do it. But I did know that my motivation has burgeoned, and nothing was going to stop me.

Unsurprisingly, the Boston Marathon is impressively well organized. My mom dropped me off at the cool hour of 8 AM in Hopkinton, where I waited just a few minutes in line for a porta-potty, and then hopped on a bus to the athlete’s village. From there, I jogged to the DFMC center, where the incredible volunteers had set up food, drink, first aid and phone charging stations. We took team pictures and milled about. I wasn’t nervous. I was just ready. Looking around the room, I saw so many yellow bibs—signifying charity runners. My bib was blue—wave 3—and there were only a handful of us. Once again I realized just how important my requalification was; if Dana-Farber didn’t have to pay for me to enter the race, they could pay for an extra person to do so, and thus have a greater fundraising impact. Finally it was time to head to the starting line. I walked over with another DFMC runner, we wished each other good luck, and found our respective corrals. In corral 2, I found a Oiselle volée teammate, and we comforted each other as we got ready to start. I don’t know if I’ve ever been so excited or smiled so much at the start of a race before.

Before the race

The gun went off and I crossed the starting line. The race course drops into a downhill almost immediately, so I reminded myself to settle in and not go out too fast. Of course there were thousands of people around me so for the first few miles I did have to stay really relaxed. My goal was to hover around 7:50 ppm as long as I could and hope that the hills wouldn’t destroy me. Prior to the race I had done my research and knew that going out too hard on the downhill in the first half of the race would kill my legs, and given that I did not know what to expect from Heartbreak Hill, I needed to play the game conservatively. And that’s basically what I did! After the race, a number of friends who were tracking me would compliment me on how evenly I ran the whole marathon, especially since many people struggled in the heat. I believe that because of my pacing skills I was able to manage my energy really well and that allowed me to run the exact race I wanted.

There were too many funny, incredible and memorable moments during the race for me to write them all down here, but I’ll throw out a number of my favorites:

• The honest sign at mile 2 that said “you’re not almost there”
• Making awkward eye contact with a man holding up a sign that said “keep running if you think I’m sexy” even though he definitely wasn’t sexy
• The Mormon missionaries dressed in their uber-conservative clothes cheering
• The Wellesley scream tunnel that did not disappoint
• Seeing my parents at mile 13 and knowing that the race was really starting at that point
• Finally starting to hurt around mile 16, just before the Newton hills
• Finding another Oiselle volée teammate just as Heartbreak Hill started, yelling “let’s do this,” and charging up the hills together
• The red ice pop that someone handed to me on Comm Ave. It was not in my fuel plan but it was too hot to care
• Feeling my legs starting to hit the wall and deciding that I would not allow it
• Seeing so many of my friends cheering for me from mile 20 and onward. Knowing that I had people at almost each of the last 6 miles made the pain of the third hour of running a lot more bearable
• Trying not to tear up as I approached mile 25, where DFMC was stationed. These people were the reason I was running, and why I was pushing my body way harder than it was happy about. The cheers that erupted as they recognized my neon yellow singlet gave me the motivation I needed to finish strong and under my qualifying time so that I could keep running for them next year
• Running my fastest mile of the whole marathon at mile 26, so desperate to be done with the race at that point
• Crossing the finish line at Boylston, slowing to a stop and letting the tears finally flow.

Official Finish Time: 3:31:42, only 35 seconds off my marathon PR!

After!

Despite writing my longest blog post ever about the marathon, it’s still hard for me to accurately describe all of the feelings and thoughts I have about my first Boston Marathon. I was so lucky to have the incredible support—emotional, physical and financial—of so many loved ones and I’m happy and proud that I was able to accomplish exactly what I set out to do. The best news is that I get do to this all again next year. Maybe by then I’ll have my thoughts together a little bit better and much sooner. I can’t wait.

My amazing friends and cheer squad

Training like an Elite, Volume 2

Two years ago, just coming off a broken leg, I was in Lake Tahoe, California at 6,000 feet above sea level when I started my slow comeback to running. This trip, with its scenery and confidence building steps, gave me the altitude bug. Ever since then, I've kept in the back of my mind that I wanted to head back to altitude to do some serious training. Training and peaking in my milage for Boston seemed like the perfect opportunity, so I booked tickets to Boulder, Colorado to visit a good friend and have the wind knocked out of me.

I was in Boulder for a full week and initially I didn't seem to be affected by being at 5,000+ feet above sea level. A quick shake-out run the first day I was there felt normal, even good. I did burn the chicken I cooked because #bakingataltitude. But my big concern, and the reason I was there, was my impending 20 mile long run on Saturday morning. 20 miles, or for me three hours of running, is mind-numbing and potentially awful on one's own even at sea-level, so I sought out a local running group that I could accompany. I got really lucky that the women I ran with were chatty and good for about 14 miles in the morning. They lead me through the packed dirt roads around the Boulder Reservoir, and thanks to their incessant chatter (one woman was espousing the incredible company that is Uber...like who's never heard of them before?), I was able to soak in the sun and beautiful scenery and forget that I was suffering internally.

No wonder I had a nice run!

In reality, my 20 miler went great! I ran the third hour on my own, and while I did start to get very hungry around mile 17, I didn't hit a wall and was able to keep pace for my whole run. Even more exciting was that this 20 miler was two minutes faster than my run of that distance last year, but this time I was breathing in significantly less oxygen. I had been warned beforehand that recovery at altitude often takes a lot longer, so as soon as I finished my run and returned to the car, I chugged some water and a protein shake, and nibbled on a pistachio muffin (all the sugars and carbs!) as I did some dynamic stretching. Once I got home, I showered, pulled on some compression socks and curled up for a nap.

Of course, my "elite" altitude training wouldn't be complete without some sort of social media interaction with women much faster than I. Heading to Boulder, I knew that many elites were in the area altitude training as well, and I was hoping to at least run into them, if not actually stalk them and become best friends (Kara Goucher, why didn't you respond to my invitation to get coffee together!?). And I did almost literally run into a few. My running team, Oiselle, has an elite training group called Little Wing that at the moment consists of three steeple chasers chasing the OTQ, and coached by the incredible Lauren Fleshman. Halfway into my LR around the reservoir, my group and I ran by another group and I recognized these women by the Oiselle clothes they were in. Later, on my own, I ran by two of the women and waved to them, yelling "Hey Little Wing!" They seemed pumped to both recognize my running top (also obviously Oiselle #flystyle) and realize that I knew who they were. After my run I checked Twitter, and was delighted to find this awesome tweet from them. Once again, day/week/life made:

*praise hands emoji*

And my active altitude training didn't end there. The next morning, I headed even higher up, to about 10,000 feet, to go cross country skiing. Now I am not one to put on any type of snow sport equipment, but knowing that Nordic skiing is such good cardio and non-impact cross training, I had to give it a try. I went with my friend to her local mountain and we explored the pristine trails for about two hours. We worked up both a sweat and an appetite and had so much fun. My parents can't believe I'm saying this, but I would definitely cross country ski again!

Now that I'm back at sea-level and tapering, I'm continuing to get massages from my amazing PT, and today even I ran some easy miles on the AlterG anti-gravity treadmill at 75% body weight. Boston is 11(!) days away and I'm doing the best I can to take care of my body, given how many miles I've pounded them through over the course of the past four months. My training hasn't gone exactly as planned but at the same time I've had some awesome runs. I feel fit, ready and beyond excited to toe the line in Hopkinton and make my way into Boston, with a right on Hereford and left on Boylston. My stint as an elite at altitude in Boulder has prepared me well.

Love,
Rachel "legs up on the wall" Runner

Math is hard, and its consequences: a race recap

Folks, an order of business before we get to your (somewhat) regularly-scheduled blog post: a Boston Marathon and Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge fundraising update! We are just one month out from Patriot's day and today I received my number (17512) and wave/corral (3/2). I'm feeling pretty fit at this point but this last month will be key for honing and maintaining my fitness and motivation. I'm headed to Boulder this week to train at altitude and gain some speed by osmosis from all the crazy fast runners up there. More importantly though, is that my fundraising is really coming along! Also today I hit $7,000 and I'm hoping to close the gap to $10k soon. If you haven't donated yet, I urge you to take a look at my fundraising page here and donate whatever you can to help raise money for cancer research.

Speaking of marathon training, let's talk about long runs. They're long and often take a lot of mental energy to even just begin. For this reason, "tune up" races are very attractive to those of us crazy enough to give up hours of our free time just put one foot in front of the other at a considerable speed. It was with just this in mind that a colleague and fellow Boston bound runner suggested that we tackle an "18 mile" race together. I said sure and didn't think much of it. Unfortunately for her/fortunately for her family, her son's hockey team made it into playoffs that day so I ended up flying solo.

I did not have big expectations for this race, Stu's 30k, and had a vague plan to negative split the run. I didn't anticipate going out fast but as I eavesdropped the conversations at the starting line, I realized that I could do better than I had initially anticipated. I headed out at a little over 8:00 ppm and settled in with a group of runners. Nothing particularly exciting to report from the first half of the race except for the running commentary (pun intended) by these men. First he mentions, to no one in particular I believe, an interview with some "little known" runner who is making her marathon debut at Boston. She runs for adidas, he said, but his mispronunciation of the brand both piqued my interested and pissed me off. He was talking about Neely Spence Gracey who, if you follow the elite running world in any capacity you would know, is not all that up-and-coming. A few miles later, I was leading this same man and one other in a triangle formation (I'd say that they were drafting off of me but both had a big height advantage on me), and the first comments to the second that I have great running form. "Yeah, she runs real tight," the second replies. (Okay, WHAT does this mean!?) The first responds that maybe he would run as spritely as I do if he were 50 lbs lighter. I turn around and flash a smile at them, and then take off.

It felt like I started to find my stride around 12 miles, when I was comfortably hitting 7:30-7:45 per mile. The weather had warmed up and the sun was out. I made sure to take water every chance I got, especially after I ate each GU. I could feel the end of the race coming up and was excited that my legs were really responding well. But here's when that starts to break down. Sharon, my colleague, had sold this race to me as an 18 mile training run. The race was actually 30 kilometers. As I tell my Spanish students frequently, I am not that good at math. I have, however, run for long enough that I can convert metric to imperial, and I soon realized that this finish line that I was chasing was actually significantly farther than I had figured. When at mile 15 I tried to kick for the last 5k, my legs started to resist. Together, we faced a long and winding hill, and as I rounded the corner at mile 18, I was dismayed not to see the finish line.

Reader poll: was I wearing shorts?

Do you know what it's like to coerce your body to continue to work and push after you thought you had expertly portioned out your energy over a certain, finite distance? I thought about using the remaining .7 miles as a cool down since this race didn't particularly matter anyways. On the other hand, I spied a woman in front of me (in orange in the photo above) and I was going to be damned if I lost an age group award to her by that small of a margin. So I pushed one more time (<-- that sounds like I'm giving birth...) and as soon as I crossed the finish line my legs cramped up. In my marathon last spring, mile 18 was where I very discernibly hit the wall, so I was at least grateful to postpone that feeling for a little longer in this race. I ended up not winning an age group award after all but I did manage to run an average 8:03 pace, which is just shy of my 8:01 marathon pace from Providence. This means that had I continued for the rest of the 12 kilometers, I would have still finished right around my goal time for Boston. See, I can do some math at least! And I walked (very slowly) away from this race with one lesson that I will take with me to Boston: it helps to know the course before you race; no one wants a surprise on race day.

Post race: proudly repping Dana-Farber

Sincerely,
Rachel "it's almost taper time!" Runner

I am no Quentin Cassidy

"The trials of miles; miles of trials"

Fictional miler Quentin Cassidy's oft-quoted mantra is frequently invoked in the running community, and it certainly was on my mind today during my 15+ mile long run. Sure, trials of miles, I thought to myself, but what does Cassidy know about the trials of freezing cold runs and icy sidewalks? The central Floridian, for all of his grueling workouts, probably logged most of his miles in thin shorts and no shirt. Meanwhile today, I prepared for my battle with the road by donning wool socks, fleece-lined tights, four layers on top including two wind-blocking jackets, a gaiter and a hat.

Quentin Cassidy, we can presume, also had the mentality of a grinder. He was a workhorse, potentially past the point of reason--for those who've read Once a Runner. The trials were mental. His mind was in the game just as much as his legs and his lungs.

 I am no Quentin Cassidy. Currently nine weeks into training for the Boston Marathon, and with just over two months left before the culminating day, I still don't believe that I'm fit. If we exclude this literally mind-numbingly cold weekend, this winter's weather conditions have been much more favorable than last winter's. I've gone through marathon training once before and there are many fewer surprises this time around. And yet training for this marathon has been much more of a struggle so far. My physical therapist says he's never seen my calves in such bad shape, I'm constantly exhausted and have postponed or skipped runs more than I'm willing to admit. I have had almost no training weeks go completely according to plan. With all this stopping and starting, physical and mental fatigue, and the constant rush of life, I don't feel like I'm really in this. In my heart of hearts, I know that one missed run here or one slower-than-scheduled run there will not make or break my marathon in April. But I also know that I want, and need, to be prepared in order to be happy with the outcome of my race, and choosing naps (and cheesecake) over runs will not get me there. I've told people that I will likely not race another marathon for a while after Boston, and I've considered amending my goals to reflect my tumultuous mental state. Running is a priority for me, but I cannot dedicate the amount of time I want to this portion of my life without another aspect giving way.

I won't move to a cabin in the woods, but I'm still lacing up my shoes and getting out the door. Every time my feet hit the pavement I feel vindicated and reassured. In the speed sessions that I have done, the long runs I've either sped or slogged through, and the post-run stretching and strength work I am able to fit in, I am redefining what Quentin Cassidy's famed saying means for my own running.

Probably cold until April,
Rachel "I'm still here" Runner

Inch by Inch

Some runners cross the finish line and swing a fist in the air. Though you often can’t hear them, you imagine a loud and breathy ‘YEAH’ exploding from their lungs. A rush of triumph. A big ole in-your-face to the non-believers. A fleeting glance atop Mount Victory.

I had one of those this week. Sure, I have good days now and then and finish my run with a smile and an elated mood, but rarely do I – call me cautious – celebrate so audaciously. But Tuesday night, whew, I had a doozy. Picture this: dressed in all black except for my flashy flats and a neon headband, it is February after all, I toss a water and pink sticky note with the workout written on it onto the ground. Gradually the track clears of lingering students and the pleasant 50 degrees drop to 40 while I warm up. Then, 10x400m silhouetted against a quickly vanishing sun, followed by 4x200 on tired legs. Soon enough, I’m three miles into what was designed to be a brutal mid-season workout. The kind of workout that makes you long for the camaraderie of teammates because the lone dogwalker in the nearby playground is woefully unaware of the task at hand.

I crouch down before my last 200m trying in vain to ease the tightness out of my right calf. I take my gloved hands and rub the muscle for warmth before shaking my legs nervously, cracking my back one last time, and jogging to the start line. Whoosh! I pounce off the line in utter silence and feel like I’m absolutely flying around the curve. If I’d been a cartoon, my head would’ve taken a few seconds to catch up to my surprisingly springy legs. Before my brain can register the burning in my calves and core muscles the 200m line appears from the darkness and I flail a wild right arm across my body to hit the split. One second faster than pace. 

FIST PUMP.

There it was. I reflexively fist-pumped in triumph over a 37 second 200m interval. In that moment it didn’t matter that I used to run 400’s faster than that pace or that it’s a full 5 seconds slower than I used to run 200’s or even that it’s slower than my PR 800 pace. For a flash I was transported back to a time with less self-doubt. A time when working harder made me faster. A time when I believed deeply and without apology. As I jogged my cooldown back to campus and the lab I thought to myself: This can happen. Inch by inch.

Sincerely,

Robyn “inches of progress” Runner

Mind Games with Legs

Much like (I imagine) a parent must sometimes negotiate with a child to get him or her to do something unwanted, I sometimes find myself engaging in a silent battle with my legs before a long run or hard workout.

"Are you excited for 4x1000 today?" I ask them.
"I guess," they say, "but don't you just want to keep watching Scandal?"
"But you're wearing your favorite socks and your tights are keeping you warm. You look good!" I try to convince them.
"Okay, but let's take the warm up easy."
We start out slowly, per their demand, but soon we're moving at a decent clip (perhaps due to the socks).
"Warm up's over, are you ready?"
They react as I ask them to, steadily speeding up. They widen with each length of earth that they travel. I can feel them contract and stretch, react. They are powerful.

"But," they protest, "what about that pain in your hip? Shouldn't we be careful? Maybe we should slow down."
"Believe in yourselves. Remember all the exercises you've been doing to get stronger," I reply.
The first rep is done and recovery feels sweet. Soon they're itching for more.

"Where are you taking us!?" they scream as we briefly lose balance on the icy road, turning a corner.
"Can we take it easy up this hill? We're almost done with this rep anyways." I refuse. They do as I bid.

Last rep. Time (and we) have flown by. "Don't settle," I urge them. "What else is in there?" I see my pace slowly creeping below 7 minutes. We hit the mark and take a second to celebrate.
"You know, that wasn't so bad," they concede. "We felt good. It was fun. Can we do more? Again?"
"Not now," I tell them. "Remember this feeling and bring it back out for April. It's still early anyways. But since you had so much fun, how about a 5 mile tempo during our long run in a few days?"
"What about Scandal on Netflix?" they plead.

They're right. As we finish up and head back to the car, I know that we'll have this conversation again on Saturday, and many more days throughout my training. But I know they'll come through.