Can't now, gotta run

Week 13: Tired, bored, and a bit burned out. Excited for 46 days to go, hopeful for a PR, and ready to sleep in on a weekend.

It's here. The late training slump. The race is too far away to dream of the taper period - lots of miles to go yet and the mind games have set in. What's really messing with my mind is the time. Time is so precious. We can't earn more, like money, can't hoard it as we do our possessions, and once it's gone, it's gone. And for everything that training has given me, what it has taken is my time.

Looking back on this summer, I see Friday evening bbqs, bonfires and happy hours turned down, because I was getting up before 5:00 am on Saturday to run. We did not join our dock mates on any Saturday beach days because I couldn't drag myself down to the dock in time to go. I needed time to recover, rest, and get myself together before I could go to the beach. Seriously - my long runs were leaving me too burned out to go to the beach.

Need more of this, please

In reality, my life has turned into chaos and the only thing that is getting done is running. The laundry has become Mt. Washmore and only gets climbed when I can't find socks or underwear. Consequently, there are piles of clean running clothes on the couches and chairs and dirty running clothes in the baskets and bathroom. I try to sneak a top for work into my gym clothes occasionally.

Mike cleans the kitchen when I drag myself to the stove to cook. It's usually far too late to cook - either because I ran after work and I'm starting to make dinner at 7:30 pm or I went to the store and am getting a late start having woken up at 5:00 am to run before work. I'm trying desperately to make use of the produce from our Farmer's Market CSA, but I have lost my will to chop and make new things. There are 3 dozen eggs waiting to be used. So feeling exhausted, I'll boil some noodles, heat sauce and make spaghetti. It doesn't fix anything: there's still produce languishing in the fridge, more dirty dishes, and I'm not full cause I didn't make a "real" meal.

Laundry and cooking/dishes are really the only essentials being touched upon. I've basically let everything else go for the last 3 months, accumulating piles here and there of shoes, mail, just random stuff. My bangs are in my eyes and don't look at my brows - I need to get to the salon and haven't managed an appointment in a month since I noticed this. Hurricane Jamie has hit land. Send in the relief team.

What I don't get is how the rest of you do it. The moms and dads with school aged (or younger) kids. The people with multiple jobs. Heck, those of you who train more than I do! I'm only working out about 5 days a week, max, with at least 2 of those days being less than 90 minutes. The fact that I can't get my house together, get to the grocery store, make decent meals, find time to eat them, fold and put away my clothes and sleep 8 hours a night is tough. I feel like I should have more time in the day. However, once I sit down, I'm done. I can only watch the Netflix with Mike and Crooks and crawl into bed as soon as it gets dark.

FOMO (Fear of missing out). It's real, guys. Mike and I are doing our training, but I feel like I'm just treading water the rest of the time when I should be enjoying my summer. Or past tense... should have enjoyed my summer. I'm glad October 25th is coming soon. I'm excited that I have some fun things scheduled like Irish Festival and MSU football games. I'm nervous that adding any extra activity, even something fun, will be enough to push me over the edge... but I'm hanging in there.

I'm taking the night off from running and will be prepping meals for the rest of the week (goal: use 1 dozen eggs), folding at least one basket of clothes and going to bed by 10 pm. Baby steps.

Maybe I'm Amazed

It's been pretty quiet here in Find Your Awesome-land. Fear not - I'm still chugging away at the training and pounding the pavement. With 8 weeks to go, I'm well over halfway through my marathon training and am feeling the pinch on my time, energy and mental strength.

But an AWESOME thing happened just a week ago and while it adjusted my training a bit, it was so worth it. I was able to check off "run a trail half marathon" from by 40x40 bucket list. While it is something I was interested in, it was really made by having Kari and Mike by my side.

A year ago, Kari suggested we sign up for the North Country Trail Race, a half-marathon in the Manistee National Forest. The sign-ups opened for the 2015 race on the day after the 2014 race. As I sat in my living room forking over $75, Mike says, "why don't you sign me up too?" Mike was not a runner. In August 2014, he was not even walking much. So I turned that $75 into $150 and it was settled. It was a secret - for awhile. Then it started to trickle out. Mike started walking with the Run Muskegon group in the fall and doing some run/walking.

Fast Forward to spring. A long winter with lots travel and busy schedules. I did a crash course to train for the Bayshore Half Marathon and Mike took to the streets again to start training. After Memorial Day and Bayshore came and went we realized how close NCT really was. By this time I had, of course, already committed to Marine Corps Marathon as well - meaning I couldn't focus all my attention on the trails.

Professional help was needed. We joined the Gazelle Sports Summer Run Camp in Grand Rapids. The Summer Safari program in Kalamazoo in 2013 helped me get to the finish line and I needed the support now to get through 4 months of training, especially when I don't have someone my pace who is training for a marathon. So we signed up and got started the first week of June.

The last three months have been some of the best of my life. Training for a long distance race is not easy and it can be very difficult on your loved ones. It takes on a new dimension when that person is training with you. Starting with the spring melt, we ran short distances together in the evenings, as Mike started with a 2:00 minute run/2:00 minute walk interval. He because a regular at Run Muskegon on Wednesdays. To prep for North Country's challenging terrain, we started running on Tuesdays at Hoffmaster State Park. I think he hated me a little, when I made sure we always ran down a dune to see the water and the evening sun. After all, what goes down must come up. When I was too tired to talk on Monday nights, he promised me that we'd catch up on the trail the next day. Our own dirty, sweaty, buggy date night.

When we started the long runs for Summer Run Camp, my distances increased at an accelerated pace, quickly rising into the double digits. However, I found comfort in starting out together, having timed walk breaks in warm up miles and chugging along, often silent. One of my difficulties in 2013 was completing my mid-week runs and cross-training. Having a real, live, in-home training partner has upped my accountability. I've been hitting most of my mid-week runs, going to yoga, and we bike almost every Saturday evening after our long run. The difference in my pace and comfort level is evident. The results were clear on August 22nd.

Kari, Mike and I headed to Wellston after work to the Big M Trailhead. We really didn't know what to expect, but when we picked up our race packets FULL of swag and saw the fun atmosphere at the site, we knew were in for a good time. A quick jaunt back to Manistee for dinner and sleep and Saturday morning we were ready. It was my 5th half marathon, Kari's 9th (I think) and Mike's first. His only race other than the Seaway Run 5k in June. The place was jumping with music, a bonfire, flags from every state represented and people just sitting out having a great time. We decided to all stick together and run/walk as we felt comfortable. With the hills, we probably couldn't keep any kind of interval, at least not for long.

Trying to get a 6'2" and 5'2" person in the same selfie

The camaraderie on the trail was fantastic. We nicknamed ourselves and everyone around us the "Mullets: Party in the Back" and learned everyone's names, where they were from, sang happy birthday to someone, cheered on the marathoners as they passed us, took selfies, the works. I've never had a better race. Kari, although not trained, was holding herself back some to stick with us because it was just more fun together. Mike and I had the rare opportunity to run with the 10:30 pace group from our Summer Run Camp. Everyone was going slow and having a good time, so we were able to hang together for several miles and get to know them better. We were holding a good pace, slightly faster than expected, but not burning ourselves out. We had heard the back of the course was challenging, especially as you're tired, so we kept it measured and took good breaks at the aid stations. Oh the aid stations! Water, electrolytes, pretzels, fresh fruit, medical attention, wonderful service and more! Just phenomenal!

So fast we're blurry.

As we rounded the last few miles we saw some confusing flags that looked to lead us straight up and then down a hill. Cranky Jamie starts swearing under her breath and then we reach to top to this sight:

Don't slow down for a picture - you might not win!

A beautiful overlook of the valley below - a photo opp if I ever saw one. And yes, everyone was taking advantage of it. So we paused, took in the view, and then headed down the hill - me freewheeling like a kid running down a dune. Thinking we had far longer to go, we could hear the roar of the crowd. We held back a little as we didn't want to burn out with 2 miles to go. But never trust Garmin in the woods. We rounded a corner and were surprised by the finish. We were MORE surprised when we were told to finish then and not do the extra 1 mile lap. That was just for the marathoners. But, but... Garmin says we only ran 12.2. Nope. There's the finish. So we made the most anti-climatic, confused 30 yard run for the finish and were done! 3:32! Right at our goal time and feeling good and ready to party!

That's some bling right there!

While I've completed a number of big races that left me feeling emotionally drained, I don't know if I can explain what this one meant. There was the standard relief it was over, sense of accomplishment, fear for my toenails, having to pee, but that's not what it really was. I was and still am so proud of Michael and everything he did to get to this point. He never said he couldn't do it. He has pushed me to be a better runner. He's been my partner in getting up early, eating late, trying to find socks, and "suck it up and get it done." He picked an incredibly difficult target and met it and signed up on Monday to do it again. Heck, he's already signed up to do another half marathon this fall. There are no words for how amazed I am.

Wow.

And with that, we feasted, drank beer, congratulated our new found trail buddies and went for a swim in the river. Best damn day.

Second Verse, Same as the First

Two years ago I started this blog and announced that I would be running the 2013 Marine Corps Marathon. It was going to be the best, most epic thing EVER. I would raise a ton of money for my charity, finally get that awesome runner's body I've been chasing for two decades, and I would be... a MARATHONER. You all were there, you remember.

Well... it happened. Some of it. I raised a ton of money for the Epilepsy Therapy Project (now merged with the Epilepsy Foundation of America). I did not get sleek and slim. I had some athletic mishaps and personal setbacks that made the training difficult and frustrated the hell out of me. But I did finish. And it was epic. And I felt like a "person who completed a marathon" not a MARATHONER.

Normally I hem and haw and over think before making big decisions. Especially decisions that will affect how I spend  5-20 hours a week for the next 6 months. Then there are times when I see a facebook post pop up that says "Fall in. MCM Lottery concludes today at noon eastern!" I read this at 11:12 am. I texted Kari who said "go for it, but I'm not in... I'm still deciding if I'm doing a marathon this year."

So I clicked to the Marine Corps Marathon website, created a profile, thought for 30 more seconds and with 42 minutes left in the lottery, I gave them my credit card info and clicked ENTER. Judging from the number of people complaining they didn't get in last year, I figured about 2 - 3x more people entered than were slots available. I have no idea the actual odds, because I woke up 2 days later to this:

Oh. Crap.

So I texted Kari roughly the same message, with more profanity. Forward Mike the email with the message "did you know your girlfriend is an idiot?" Oh yeah... I didn't tell him I was entering the lottery. His response: "Well, looks like we're going to DC this year." He later agreed that I'm an idiot (in the most loving way possible).
Mike brought up some good points: would I have fun running if I didn't have anyone to experience it with? Didn't I want to do another marathon in a different city? Well, here's the thing - what's done is done, in more than one way. I entered and won the lottery - the first and only lottery I've ever won. Also, there is something to be said for doing a race a second time. You have an idea of how it works, where to go, where the bathrooms are, how long you walk from the staging area to the start line, what 25,000 runners feels like, etc. By not being overwhelmed by all the new stuff as a first time marathoner and my first time at the MCM, I will have a different (and hopefully more successful) race.

So there it is - 2 weeks before my 35th birthday and I got my present. A credit card receipt for over $100 for a race I'm not so sure about. And a summer filled with running. So the question is - who's up for the long runs? Cause I can't do it alone.

So you say you ran a marathon?

Seven months ago, I stepped out into the blogosphere and put a stake in the ground. I was going to run the Marine Corps Marathon, raise $1500 for the Epilepsy Therapy Project and write a blog about my journey. Well kids, it's November and we need to check in on those goals.

I've started and stopped this first sentence countless times now, because the enormity of 9 days ago just makes it difficult to know where to start. But as Maria Von Trapp taught us, let's start at the very beginning - it's a very good place to start.

If I were to recap the ENTIRE awesome trip to our Nation's great Capitol, we'd be here all night, so I'll dedicate this post to the marathon and touch on other parts of the trip in another post. With our starting point established, Sunday, October 27, 2013, 7:55am. A date with destiny.

Prepped at ready at packet pick-up

The entire crew (Kari, me, Mike, Mom and Dad) was staying in Maryland and getting to the start of the race required a 20 minute drive to the Metro Commuter Station and 35-40 minute Metro ride to the Pentagon. Knowing there were many logistical hurdles to navigate, we wanted to get on one of the first trains into the city, so we left the hotel around 4:40am. Seriously. The ride to the Green Belt Metro Station was not without its challenges. Primarily from me.

Five minutes into the ride: "I know what I forgot. My contact lens." So yes, I ran the race and went the next 12 hours with uncorrected vision.

Five  minutes later: "Oh... I didn't bring my ankle brace." As in I totally haven't run more than one mile since August without an ankle brace and now I'm going to run for 6 hours WTF!!! Mom was very concerned, but frankly, the brace had been bothering me and I didn't feel like I had a hell of a lot of choices, so I did NOT freak out, and decided to run unsupported and hit the med tent if needed.

Minor issues, but a little nerve rattling.

Runner's Village - heading towards the start line

We arrived at the Pentagon Station and walked to Runner's Village, familiarized ourselves with the surroundings (located porta-potties) and realized the race didn't start for 90 minutes. After listening to the tail end of a non-denominational prayer service and killing some time, we finally made our way towards the start line around 7:10. I wasn't letting myself feel the butterflies until the American flag came streaming down to earth attached to the parachutes of skydivers while an a Capella choir sang the national anthem. For the first time that day, I began to feel the enormity of running 26.2 miles through the some of the nation's most important spots. Also, it was finally light out, so I could see enough to be impressed for the first time.

Now I had to say goodbye to my kick-ass ground support crew and send them on their most excellent spectator journey, which covered miles of walking, 2 states by Metro and multiple trips through Marine Corps security. Mom, Dad and Mike are the people who made it happen.

It was time to get settled into my corral at the back of the pack and send Kari off towards the middle. She didn't want to leave and I wished she didn't have to, but she had a race to run and needed to do it about 90 minutes faster than me.

Chatting before the start

At 7:55 the howitzer fired and we were off! Ok, 22 minutes later I crossed the starting line. Tens of thousands of runners crossed the starting line ahead of me. Those 22 minutes were the longest of the day - well, until the last 6 miles.

I'll admit that over a week later, I don't remember much of the first mile except people. Lots of people. The first 10k was the most technically difficult and the easiest mentally. I had a good pace, my lungs felt good, the scenery was great and I felt right on target. For the first of several times, I saw my parents and Mike when I was in Georgetown - easily the most entertaining part of the race. It featured high school marching bands, the Georgetown Hoyas pep band, a bluegrass group and a runner who was falling down drunk at mile 5. Honestly. Last I saw her she was being helped to a cart by a Marine and another volunteer.

At nearly every intersection for 26.2 (or 26.6 according to Garmin) miles and every aid station, there were Marines, keeping up safe, hydrated, fueled and encouraged. I had scrawled my name on my race bib and at a later water stop, a young marine was filling up my water bottle and saw it. He said, "Good job Jamie! Keep going!" I almost cried because I was so glad to have someone call me by name at that point in the game.

Back to our race. After the first 6, I was settling in well and focused on maintaining a pace so I could pass the Gauntlet (mile 17) and Beat the Bridge (mile 20). These two cut-off points must be reached by a certain time or you will be removed from the course and bused back to the finish line. If you ask my fellow travel companions, they will tell you that the weekend's refrain was "I will NOT get on the bus." My pace was on the mark to make the bridge, but those 22 minutes waiting to cross the start line were not doing me any favors.

In those middlish miles before coming back to the crowds of the National Mall, I was out in the relative no-man's land of Hains Point, along the Potomac. The view is nice and there were lots of signs, but limited spectators. This is where I found the Blue Mile, sponsored by the Team Wear Blue/Run to Remember. Please check out this runner's blog for moving photos of the mile. Every 6 feet was a photo of a service member killed in action. These men and women, most barely out of their teens, were often smiling, sometimes holding newborn babies, lives full of promise and service to country. Some were career military veterans at 40, who could have been close to retirement. I pulled down my sunglasses as I couldn't stop the tears. The last half of the Blue Mile was volunteers, one after the other, holding flags at attention - all day long. I cried harder.

Regaining some composure and checking my pace, I hustled on the the National Mall, where I saw Mike again. I tried to hug him, but he pushed me on, as the math whiz in him was concerned about me making the Gauntlet. The mood on the Mall was upbeat with thousands of spectators, more music and sights to see. My parents saw me (but I barely remember seeing them) around mile 16 as I cruised towards the Gauntlet in front of one of the Smithsonian Museums (Natural History?). I made it, with Marines cheering me on and barking at everyone, in a very encouraging manner, to go BEAT THE BRIDGE!

Passed the Gauntlet, headed to the Bridge!

So I did. And I pushed it. When a Marine yelled "You've got to get to the bridge by 1:05," I said "Well what time is it now???" Turns out I was a mile away and it was 12:40 pm. So I had plenty of time, but couldn't dawdle.

When I reached the 14th Street Bridge, I could finally relax. 20 miles down. Just a 10k to go. The toughest 10k of my life. As a friend put it - you feel like your knees have been taken out and you were up all night drinking beforehand. But still, just 6.2 little miles. I could do it. I could do it. I didn't get on the bus. I didn't get on the bus. Left foot, right foot.

Once we crossed back into Virginia for the last 6 miles, it got rough. For the first time I put in my headphones. I saw Ellen, one of the other Team Athletes vs. Epilepsy runners around mile 22. She wasn't feeling so hot, and was glad to see me, but told me to go on as she was going to struggle. It was comforting to see a friendly face so late in the race.

During those first 20 miles, I was focused on the BRIDGE, but had no doubts about my ability to complete the race. Things got very real after mile 20. I still knew I could finish and was not having any major issues. The bum ankle wasn't acting up and I was successfully ignoring the growing tightness in my calves and hamstrings. The burning in my neck and shoulders had been present since about mile 5, and while it was sapping my energy, it wasn't keeping my legs from moving. I just kept running... but the miles weren't going by! I would look down at my Garmin and .05 miles had elapsed! I had to turn my watch around so I couldn't see the time or distance because while my body was going strong, time and space were somehow disrupted.

I dodged walkers all through Crystal City and winding back towards the Pentagon. Many other back of the packers had pushed it to beat the BRIDGE and then walked much of the last 6 miles. My strategy was the continue my same run/walk intervals as the first 20 miles, which I did accomplish, although not quickly. With as much or more effort, my pace slowed by at least 1 min/mile. I cursed those who said I was "almost there" at mile 23. At mile 25, I finally believed them! I saw the starting line. There were spectators lining the course.

About mile 25. Still upright, but tired

As I came upon the last mile, I could see Arlington National Cemetery in the distance. Marines and civilians alike were cheering us on. I kept moving.

Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no I got to keep on movin'
Matthew Wilder

I turned a corner and saw it. The final hill. Signs on the ground saying "Charge the Hill!" and "Take Iwo" as we all climbed the short (LONGEST) hill to the finish. Marines were shoulder to shoulder giving high fives and dragging you up the hill if needed. I didn't think I had anything left, but I couldn't walk that hill. I just couldn't. I reached the top, ran the last 100 yards and crossed the finish line. Clock time was about 6:28. Official time: 6:06:01.

Running a marathon requires a lot of trust in your body, the people around you and letting your preparation carry you when you flip to autopilot. Thank god for the Marine Corps. When I was done with the race, they were (kindly) telling me where to go and what to do, because I had no post-race autopilot and energy to think for myself. 

1. Collect your medal. 2. Get your picture taken at the Iwo Jima Memorial. 3. Move to the left to get your box of food and finisher jacket. 4. Follow the fence to exit the finishers area.

My feet hurt. My neck hurt. My back hurt. My heart soared! I couldn't walk another step and I couldn't wish for a better day.

By the numbers:
Miles run (Official): 26.2  - I don't have training miles, I'm not a junkie for excel like Kari
Time: 6:06:01
Weeks of official training: 19
Money Raised: $1782.50

That's right folks... Thanks to many of you, I blew my original and expanded goals out of the water! I will be posting later this week on gratitude, but I can't thank you all enough for what you have done here. By supporting me in my first marathon, you have given me the gift of a lifetime. It is an experience I will never forget and everywhere I looked that day, I was reminded of how much bigger this is than just me. Thank you.

Proud girls with our medals!

Upcoming: 
1. On gratitude and service
2. The next adventures

It's the Final Countdown

Ok... this is it, don't get scared now. (Maybe I've seen Home Alone a few too many times?)

Less than 4 days until the Howitzer sounds and then some 15 minutes later, I'll cross the starting line. For those of you who have never attended a HUGE race, it takes a lot of time for 30,000 people to cross the starting line. I'm guessing for the 12:00+ min/mile pace corral, it will be nearly 15 minutes.

It's been 17 weeks of training. Even more weeks of scheming and waffling and deciding and planning. And it's here. In a few hours Kari, Mike, Mom, Dad and I will get on a plane and head to DC for the big show. Marine Corps Marathon. So maybe the whole thing was nearly scuttled by the ridiculous federal government shutdown. No one wants to hear the rantings of a runner and a nonprofit worker on that situation. The good news is that the government is back working as well as it ever did (ha ha), and we're back on to run through one of the greatest cities in the world! Asking for fundraising support ONE LAST TIME!!! Be an Athletic Supporter!

I've been very remiss in my blogging lately. I haven't turned on my computer since the last blog. A wonderful feeling, although it just means that I've been killing the battery of my iPhone faster. I was totally geeked about my 20-miler last time. It was a hot mess. We went to Grand Rapids to do with the Grand Rapids Marathon training run and it wasn't exactly what I expected.  The shirts were nice, the water/fuel stops were great and the staff was awesome! The number of people running my pace = 0. The directional signs, not so great. I got lost, I cried, I found my way back, I ran bonus tenths. After running 20.4 miles, I finally gave up and hitched a ride back with the Gazelle dude who was breaking down the pit stops. Slowest and most painful run of my season - honestly worse than the one after I sprained my ankle. Thankfully Kari and I went to Founders afterwards and I had a consolation beer, which makes everything better.

Redemption was needed. A plan was hatched. We're always hatching plans. Thus was born the Channel Challenge of 2013. The challenge? Run around Muskegon Lake from Margaret Drake Elliot Park to Muskegon State Park in North Muskegon by way of the Lakeshore trail and roads in North Muskegon. The week after the disastrous 20 miler, we started at sunrise and 3 hours and 40 minutes later, had run 16 miles and were approximately 50 yards from where we started. There just happened to be a body of water between us.

Yeah, it was pretty sweet

The Channel Challenge complete, and medals in hand, (I'm a nerd, ok? It was an event... it needed medals.) it was on to the taper. Tapering is awesome, as long as you remember to run and don't eat like you're still running 35 miles a week.

The final "long" run was Sunday. The Grand Rapids Marathon Relay. Five runners to cover the 26.2 mile course, as quickly as possible. I took the longest leg, which was billed as 6.5 miles. Garmin disagreed, claiming 6.7 miles. After sitting on a bus for HOURS waiting for my teammates (I was #4), I got the baton and ran the best 6ish miles since before the injury. The crowd was engaging, the other runners were inspiring, and the guy dressed as a scarecrow on stilts was just... I don't know. All members of our relay team and the other Muskegon relay team had great runs. It was the perfect way to kick off this last week.

Grand Rapids Marathon really does have a great post party!

So now we're beyond all the training, beyond the planning, scheming, dreaming and past the point of no return.

Because I really don't care how nerdy y'all think I am (and I know you do), here's your song lyrics of the day:

Risin' up back on the street 
Did my time, took my chances 
Went the distance now I'm back on my feet 
Just a man and his will to survive 
So many times, it happens too fast 
You trade your passion for glory 
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past 
You must fight just to keep them alive

It's the Eye of the Tiger 
It's the thrill of the fight 
Rising up to the challenge of our rival 
And the last known survivor 
Stalks his prey in the night 
And he's watching us all With the Eye of the Tiger. 
--Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)

Thank you all for your love, support, prayers and kind thoughts over these many months. I appreciate you all and can't wait to write my "thank you and next steps" blog!

The long and winding road

Aaanndd... She's back!

After an extended hiatus, I remembered that I promised to blog about my marathon training. And just because the training hasn't been going swimmingly, I shouldn't abandon the blog. When things get tricky, it's even more important to tell the story of the marathon journey.

When I left off, weeks ago, I had tumbled to the ground, sprained my ankle and was sulking on the couch. It's 5 weeks later, we're 30 days out from the MARATHON and a lot (and a little) has happened in that time. My training took a total dive. For several weeks I barely ran at all, missing 2 long runs, only running once mid-week (and a short, slow run) each week and stepping back on my long run schedule. I had planned to KILL IT in September to make up for a lackluster August, due to a recurrent stomach issue. Instead I walked instead of ran and spent time worrying and feeling sore and sorry for myself.

Last year, when I trained for my first half-marathon, I did it alone. No training groups or long run buddies. It was difficult to get motivated and it wasn't always enjoyable. The best thing about the marathon training has been the long runs with the Summer Safari training group in Kalamazoo. However, just when I really needed my group that shuffles along at my slower than molasses pace, I picked up, packed up Penelope Cruze (Kari named my new car), and moved to Muskegon. I was now staring down the barrel of moving, a new job, recovering from injury, and running without my crew all at once.

Overwhelmed.

In the last 2 1/2 weeks I've managed to move many (certainly not all) of my things to Muskegon and get the newly remodeled house set up. The kitchen is in order and we've actually cooked meals, the living room has matching furniture and the TV mounted on the wall, the outlets and light switches are brand new - and that doesn't even count all the hired labor for the flooring, counters, painting, etc. The (mostly) clean house, with uncluttered counter tops and routinely made bed is peaceful and soothing, as my mind often runs much faster than my legs. The cat is enjoying the stillness of living on a street with next to no traffic and nearly silent neighbors. She sits in the open windows and listens to crickets - and stares down the cat next door. It's just right.

(Note: The one messy area in the house is "my room." The spare room with my dressers and things. I haven't gotten it together yet. I can sense your surprise from here.)

Back to the running. Since I've moved back I've gotten back to my long runs in an attempt to prepare for my longest training run (20 miles, this Saturday). My friend Kari has helped more than I can say in the last few weeks. She's significantly faster than me, but when I ran 12 miles on September 14th, she ran the first 6 with me, at my slow run/walk pace and interval - before going on to complete her 20 miler on her own! Last weekend, I wanted to run 16 miles (my longest by just a bit). I was waffling on when to do it, wasn't feeling motivated or excited. Kari and I hatched a plan to run around Spring Lake (with a 4 mile add-on) on Saturday morning. This time, she ran the entire thing at my pace, including walking intervals. I really don't know if I would have made it through so well without the companionship and support. The run was a great success, and I felt like I was flying afterwards. Granted, by 9:30 pm, I was demanding to go home from a party and go to bed - but that's what happens when you date a runner.

The road to the marathon has not been straight and narrow. It's been twisty, turny, LONG, and bumpy. And we're not done yet. 20 miles on Saturday and then the balancing act of the taper.

After 12 miles at Pere Marquette Park

Future topics for thought: "Surviving your runner's mood swings" (will Mike guest post?), "The agony and the ecstasy of the taper," or "Hey, what's with that _______ (insert unsightly skin/foot/body part)?"

A good place for the road to lead

Luck Favors the Prepared... I'm a Two-Timer

On Friday night I picked up my last ever race packet that said on the outside: 32/F. Two days before my 33rd birthday and I was getting ready to run my second half-marathon. Oy. Being at the packet pick-up early was the most prepared thing about this race.

I decided to do the Hoosier Half sometime in December - I'm sure of it, because I registered on New Year's Eve, before the price went up. I was still being ridiculously lazy after the Grand Rapids Half-Marathon (October 21st), running a few miles, a few times a week, tops. I figured after the holidays, I would get things back together, get my running back on track, use the Hoosier Half as training for the upcoming 5/3 Riverbank 25k (in under 5 weeks, and 3+ miles longer than a half, if you're keeping track). However, between lingering hip pain that landed me in PT and delayed onset winter that made for a cold and snowy January and February, I found myself a nearly non-runner by March.

However cooler (??) heads prevailed and Kari insisted that "of course we're still doing it! We're going to Bloomington to celebrate your birthday!" Like me, Kari has only been running for a year as of this spring. Unlike me, Kari is a balls to the wall, crazy yoga chick who has her breath and lungs conquered. She joined a few running groups and kicked up the heat quickly - and slowed her pace to get me through my 8-miler in early March to prove I still had some distance in me. I leaned on my EcoTrek fitness crew for encouragement - especially since two of them were doing the race as well. I managed a 10-miler 2 weeks before the race, but never got in a longer run in due to the busy Easter weekend and never quite did as many hills as I wanted. Ugh... enough about my lack of training. No one wants to hear about that.

The weekend was AWESOME, race included. We got the beautiful spring weather we've been hoping for, and for once the only smart wool piece of running gear I had was my socks! Boyfriend Mike served as driver, ground support and Sherpa for the weekend, making the whole thing a lot less the stressful. I was able to introduce Mike and Kari to Bloomington and Indiana University, got to hit some of the old haunts and visit my friends Shawn and David from my post-grad school days.

The race was difficult, but other than a ski-slope hill at mile 9, the rolling hills mostly wore me down little by little, rather than killing me all at once! I made friends with a 70-year old guy, Casey who was running his 297th road race and works as a school crossing guard. :)  We chit-chatted through the last 5 miles and he was a big help during the last 3, which totally gassed me. I've never really made a running buddy during a race, so it was a great experience.

The best part of the entire race was the finish! Not the 1/4 mile hill at the end - yes it finished UP HILL - but seeing Mike, Kari, Brian and Kylie cheering me on and leading the sparse crowd in a loud rendition of "Happy Birthday." Thanks for waiting at the finish line.

I will never run a race this unprepared again. It took nearly 3 hours - but I did it, and was amply rewarded with a medal, a t-shirt and a wonderful weekend with friends.

In honor of my 13.1 miles or my 33rd birthday, please consider donating to my Marine Corps Marathon fundraising efforts for the Epilepsy Therapy Project