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.

Marathon "Precap"

The other night I had a dream that I qualified for Boston. That I ran a race that I was proud of, and that I could walk without pain after finishing my first marathon. This, I think, it the best sign of what I am about to do this weekend. On the one hand, I am anxious and unsure of what running 26.2 miles will feel like for me. But on the other hand, I am excited and know that I have worked very hard over the past five months. Hopefully I've done enough to ensure a good race on Sunday!

Like with any big race, I have a gradient of goals. A: Finish my first marathon. B: Run sub-4:00 C: Qualify for the 2016 Boston Marathon. I believe that I can hit all of these goals, but even if I just finish, I'll be happy.

Instead of detailing my training as a way of "precapping" this race, I want to share 26 photos from my runs, one for each miles of the race. Not sorry for all the selfies you're about to see.

Finally, big thanks are in order to a few people who have supported me in various ways throughout my training. First to my parents and brother, who have changed their schedules to allow my runs to happen, and for feeding me and picking me up after runs end in darkness. To my coach, Lauren, for guiding and supporting me with workouts that really challenged me and helped me grow. I wouldn't feel nearly as ready for the race if I hadn't had her plans to push and motivate me. To my training partner and bestie, Jillian, for enduring the long runs, complaining together and for picking me up when I was down or depleted after a workout. To my speedy co-blogger Robyn, who has been supportive of and excited for me and who will be there on Sunday as I cross the finish line. And finally, to all of our readers. I'm so lucky to have people who don't tire of listening to me talk about my running!

6 and 1/2 days on Earth

I used to live on Earth 6 and a half days of the week. The remaining half day was spent absorbed in the fuzzy haze that was race day. With a stare that could pierce a brick wall, I was transported to that floating otherworldly reality where burning competitiveness pumped through my veins. I could give off the impression that I was there talking with you, but you were really getting autopilot responses while I envisioned the crowd-muffling sensation of going race mode. I wasn't always this way.  One time I almost napped through the start of a high school track race. I wasn't serious yet, I knew the joy of running, but had not the need for speed ingrained into my bones, my very being.When I was younger my pre-race routine was somewhat less finicky; I avoided eating Cheese Nips, the one food I threw up during a race, which falls somewhat short of the transcendental trance I was apt to be found in on any given Saturday morning during college.

Some days now I'll daydream about racing during a training run. To the point that I'll catch myself making faces despite the fact that I'm doing 8 minute miles. I have to snap myself out of it so that I don't a) run into the front of the treadmill or b) get lost. Both of which have happened more than I like to admit. 

Now the cloud came not from a sense of nervousness or fear. Races were not life or death, make or break. But, like getting into a good book, I loved the feeling of being completely absorbed. The other 6.5 days of the week my brain is like an overexcited puppy with ADD stuck on a runaway freight train. Here, on race day, I knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed to do, and how I wanted to feel. The simplicity and clarity of it all is therapeutic. A chance for me to release all of the pent up fears, dreams, and frustrations in a channeled display of insanity. For in the end it came down to one thing, putting your everything on the line.  There aren't too many things that can make you, in the moment, know unequivocally that there is only one thing you want. The line. 

"The gun goes off and everything changes...the world changes...and nothing else really matters"

Captured in my natural habitat
(photo: M.Gouzie)

This post was inspired by my second time reading the book "Pain" by Dan Middleman. A good read if you're on the lookout for running novels.

~Robyn "race cadet" Runner

January Jogs

Whatever happened to JanPlan? I seem to be enduring all the bad weather without the joys of being on Mayflower Hill with little responsibility. Jokes on you, cause I'm still a student and have had some fun January adventures. I started off the month with some neuroanatomy classes with the med students. Then, an 8 day adventure on the Cape! 8 full days of science camp! In the middle of January! The best time to be on the beach!
 >>> Disclaimer: some of the previous statements were facetious. Take your pick. <<<

Given our roughly 9am-10pm schedule, I was forced to run in the mornings. Blechhhhhhhhh
But, I made the most of it. I started off the trip by being blown backwards by 40mph winds. I managed to avoid the waves crashing over the storm walls. You'd think that was the most exciting run I had, but you're wrong! I also got into a standoff with two foxes. I arm wrestled one while putting the other into a headlock until they ran away. (Or maybe I yelled and clapped my hands like a fool until they ran off, most likely raising their little fox eyebrows at me). I have no proof of the fight, so you're gonna have to take my word for it. Anyways, I managed to bring my phone out on the very last morning and snap some pictures.

Proof I ran on the beach in January

Sometimes it's fun to look back

The other major development of January was me finally giving in and seeing a doctor about my asthma, which had become intolerable, incessant, and a huge pain in my...chest. I celebrated my first indoor workout that didn't result in a wheezing fest by sending a ridiculously over-excited snapchat, picture below...

Oh and there was also this big snowstorm that happened recently. Dunno if you'd heard about it, but it was kind of a big deal. Naturally, I went for a run in it. No excuses. Some guy even took a picture of me running, a little creepy, but I was ok with it.

Running in Boston Commons during Blizzard Juno

At least it was pretty. 

Thanks for reading! I hope that my ridiculous selfies haven't deterred you yet. I seriously need more running buddies so that I can stop looking like such a weirdo!

Sincerely,

Robyn "back on track" Runner

Looking Back and Planning Ahead

Since yesterday marked the one year anniversary of breaking my leg, and as the year draws to a close, I thought a bit of reflection on the last 12 months was in order.

I started off the year relearning to how walk and eventually run, thanks to my fractured fibula. I focused on upper body and core strength until I was out of the boot, and then worked my way back up to running. First a comeback-5k, then a 10k until eventually I was back to running normal mileage and workouts. And let’s not forget the time some famous sister-runners tweeted at me!

This summer I fell in love with the trails and rolling hills of rural Vermont. A hot and muggy 5k on Middlebury’s xc course didn’t illustrate very well the shape I was in, but I’m still happy with the process over product. I can’t wait to go back next summer.

Also, in August I achieved a big goal of mine and joined the Oiselle volée team. I know I sound like a broken record, but I love their clothes and am honored to be sponsored by them. The sisterhood and motivation I’ve found in just a few short months of being on the team is incredible. I’m one lucky bird!

Autumn rolled around and with it came another season of coaching my girls cross country team. Despite a great group of talented and invested girls, they weren’t able to race up to the potential I knew they had, and so the season ended in some disappointment. Regardless of their results every week, my girls pushed me to be my best self and to be a good role model for them, and with that in mind I started PT on my aching hip (actually a psoas issue…who knew?!), took care of myself and raced my 4^th half marathon. I, too, didn’t quite achieve my goals but I’m proud of running a consistent race.

In the midst of the fall running, I was able to get into Boston a number of times and see Robyn! Now that she’s only about an hour’s drive from me, it’s been great seeing her more frequently and getting in some runs together. I also have acquired an embarrassing/impressive amount of Oiselle gear. My new favorite by far is the Lux Funnel Neck long sleeve. It’s so soft and the faux turtleneck offers just enough protection from the cold; it’s my go-to layering piece.  Here I am post-run at the gym, wearing as much Oiselle as possible and looking fly:

Rogas, big O burnout tank, lesko bra, and lux funnel neck

Recovery after a half marathon can be physically and emotionally hard, I’ve found, but this year I was determined not to let myself slack too much so I signed up for a local turkey trot. Unlike Robyn who killed it at her turkey trot, I viewed my Thanksgiving day race as an opportunity to get in some quality miles before gorging myself that evening. I showed up, ran a 1 mile warm up, negative split the 5k, finished in 23:02 and left. My parents had politely requested to not wake up early and stand in the cold while I raced so I didn’t have anyone to take my picture in my Oiselle singlet. I did manage to snap one picture once I got back home and back into bed. Here’s my kitty, Reginald, and I keeping each other warm:

So what’s up for 2015? Who knows for sure, but I do have a few exciting things lined up. I’m lucky to have been selected as a Nuun Ambassador for 2015. I haven’t talked a lot about Nuun on here, but it’s a great hydration option for after workouts and everyday life. I have also signed up for an open indoor track meet on January 3^rd in Connecticut, where I’ll be racing the 3k. I’m hoping the adrenaline kicks in. Could I go sub-12:00?

Lastly, I’m going to run my first marathon! Guys, I’m really going to do it this time. I’ve already signed up for the Cox Providence Marathon on May 3^rd. A friend from work is running it as well, and bestie Jillian is running the half, so I’ll have some training partners and motivators. My next step is to decide what training plan I want to use. I know a lot of people have had success with Hal Higdon’s various plans, but I’m not sure if that’s the direction I want to go in. I also don’t think I’m up for making my own training plan, since this is my first full.  Feel free to leave suggestions of what has worked for you!

Happy holidays and Happy New Year. Thanks for reading our blog!

Rachel “big things acomin’ ” Runner

Dear Deb: A Letter To My Coach

Dear Deb,

Congratulations on your upcoming retirement. This letter is simply to say thank you for all that you gave to me, to my innumerable teammates and to Colby's track and cross country programs. Although I didn't choose Colby simply for the cross country team, you had a big influence on my decision; an athlete's ability to work with a coach is so crucial for the success and happiness of the individual and the team. I immediately knew that I was in good hands with you. You were the adult presence that we wild and crazy college kids needed: someone to tell us when to stop and when to go,  who challenged and supported us and genuinely cared. The girls on the team were my sisters, and you were our mother; I think the credit is due to you that many Colby track and cross country friendships still run so strong after graduation. You created a safe space for us. Personally, I often felt like I had failed miserably or felt confined by my own limitations, but you kept pushing me, and your presence and support kept me going. And when I succeeded and "crushed my goals," as you once said about one of my races, you were so happy and proud. You celebrated all of us, and not just on the track or the course. You made sure that we were on track with our studies. It felt good, and I was always proud, that you ensured that we were students before athletes, and that you expected us to be our best in both aspects of our lives.

You also made sure we enjoyed and appreciated our beautiful surroundings. I loved always visiting your camp for the long runs, the lake time and your incredible coking. I was never bored on our runs, marveling at the fall sunsets or the sparkling icy winters or the random goat on someone's porch. Because of you, I got to know Maine in a way that I had not anticipated when I decided to go to Colby. Running in Rome was always an out of body experience, running by the horses and striving to reach the water at the end of the run. Even Upper and Lower trails became meditative in their own stubborn way.  I never knew I could love Maine as much as I did. All of my best memories from college are from the cross country and track teams.

As a cross country coach now, I appreciate you in another way as well. It is no secret that you knew what you were doing with your athletes, and it was no question for me that I would adapt your training model for my high school runners. My girls have run well and whenever I have a question about how to prepare for a certain race or how to best take care of my girls, I ask myself what you would do. I found success with your support and so I trust that my runners will do the same with my guidance. Although I work with a different demographic, the care of athletes and love of the sport still holds true. If my girls graduate being half as fond of me as we were of you, I will know that I have succeeded.

With you, after graduation

After each season, you would always give each of the seniors a yellow rose for everlasting friendship and thanking them for their contributions to the team. I still have all three of mine, dried up and drooping in my bedroom. This letter is my yellow rose to you: a reminder of the friendship, camaraderie, support, and Mule Love that you gave me and all of my teammates. I wish you happiness, lots of family time and beautiful runs in your retirement. Because of you, I am proud to be a Colby Mule.

Sincerely,
Rachel