Flower City Half Marathon 2019: It's Time

Well.  I've been waiting a long time to write this post.  It's been 3 weeks, or 4 months, or perhaps even 8 years.  You pick.  And because my love for Dan Reynolds is getting embarrassing, we'll just keep with the Imagine Dragons theme and leave it at that, sound good?

The story here begins back in 2011, when I set my half marathon PR at Flower City.  1:50:09, to be exact.  You know darn well I spent way too much time belly aching about 10 seconds, right?  Getting upset that I ran 13.25 (learn to run tangents, Rae!) and over analyzing data on my $30 timex (just kidding, that was pre garmin days when I suspect I was much dumber happier about my racing endeavors. 

I tried half heartedly to best this goal a few times in 2012, got stuck in baby mode in 2013, turned to ultra training in 2014, lather, rinse repeat in 2015-2016, and I don't know what the hell I did in 2017 except it's all a bit of a blur.  Enter 2018, Ironman training, and another dumb attempt to break 1:50 at Oak Tree Half Marathon - a day that ended up being 90 degrees yet I still PRed with a 1:50:03 which was...another course that was not conducive to a PR and also really frustrating.

As many smart athletes would do, I shelved the PR attempt and instead decided to try to run a full marathon in 3:35, which was less than double my half PR (did I mention I spectacularly failed AP calculus, which means I have absolutely no concept of derivatives, integrals and limits?  (That last part might be good.))

Even though this was probably a foolish goal, its so far made my 2019 season a smashing success - which was part of the problem.  In training for my full, I ran a series of training runs that netted me several (4 in fact) half marathon PRs - a 1:45, 1:43, 1:42 and 1:41:27.  But these DIDN'T COUNT.  I then ran a full that netted a half of 1:45, which also was never logged at an official race split.

This was a problem (Clearly, I have no concept of problems, am I right??)  Post marathon, as I blogged about, I ran into a series of niggling injuries - some related to my failure to recover properly (see above for my idiocy) and for reasons I've finally figured out, a crappy foot injury that left me unable to walk, let alone run.  With perfect hindsight, I'm aware the problem started with my switch to new shoes -I'm sad to say it took me a good 3 weeks to figure that out and I wasted a lot of curse words and anger dealing with it.  However, I did, on a whim, sign up for Flower City 2019 to see what I could do (this would be on a "sure I can run" day).  I'll admit I was antsy.  I didn't do what I wanted to at Coffee Milk and wanted redemption.  Most of my friends were running.  And I wanted that half PR.

It was a dumb move.  Two days before the race I had a breakdown with a good friend who talked some sense into me and reminded me that for the first time, I trained and raced to my potential, was thwarted by a crappy contingency plan, and was still recovering and to take it easy on myself.  I'm pretty sure there was some discussion about moving to an island away from stress to train and become a professional, and even some talk of my own YouTube channel (clearly he has not seen my dance moves, and thank goodness for that). 

Somehow, it shook sense into me, and I ditched the rest of my workout Friday, took Saturday off from running, working out, and basically even walking.  I iced, I elevated, and I prayed.  I decided to spectate the race if I couldn't run and reminded myself that one race was not the be all end all of everything.

Marcus and his "women".  Don't even get me started on this one...

Clearly I have some kind of guardian angel that takes pity on me, because I woke up race morning with minimal pain and the thought that I could at least start the race.  My friends Maria and Marcus were awesome enough to carpool with me, and we arrived to the race site to find light rain, low thirties and minimal wind.  While my co-athletes stressed about the weather, I was focused on something I haven't been focused on in awhile - the mere hope to get to the finish line.  As we entered the arena I stared at it, just hoping to make it 13.1.

As far as races go, Flower City is almost as big of a party as Running of the Green.  I saw my RWB teammates, a ton of fellow triathletes, my neighbor, a former co-worker, a bunch of running buddies, and of course, the Escort from my Sunday IBR jaunts.  (Spoiler alert - he did not act as my escort during the race - next time I need to up my speed game!)

 I abandoned my normal pre race routine of stretching and favored the sit and baby my foot method - I was taking no chances.  I downgraded my PR goal to a "lets not die" A goal, with a moonshot of a 1:45, which I figured was reasonable given the fact that I was on the tail end of marathon recovery and, well, I basically had concerns about walking.  No one said it had to make sense.

The Escort and I walked to the start line about 7:20 and I ended up lining up with the 8 minute milers. I did a lot of last minute praying that I wouldn't have to take the 2.5 mile bail out I found, and before I knew it, the gun sounded and we were off! 

I had decided not to look at my watch until the mile markers and to just be grateful I was out there at all.  We started out downhill and ran under the American flag and I took a moment to thank the higher being that I was even out here at all.  It really is a beautiful thing.... you don't even think about until you realize its not something you take for granted - the ability to be out there among thousands of people, doing what you love. 

About a quarter mile in I found a familiar face and started to run with the Boy (in case you're totally confused, he pals around with the Banter, who also has 400 nicknames, but for the sake of this story, we can just leave it at that).  The Boy is one member of the group I haven't really had a chance to get to know, so we figured out pretty quickly that our paces worked really well together and hung together to keep each other on point.  We ticked off the first four miles at a pretty consistent 7:30-7:40 pace, which felt comfortably hard, but with enough in the tank to chat about work, life, his upcoming wedding, and a master plan involving a new app for triathletes to meet up to train - still working out the kinks on the name, what sounded good at mile 5 no longer seems appropriate...).  Ahem.

We hit the first 10k in 46:25 and I was feeling pretty awesome.  Then the hills began.  I lost the boy about mile 7 at the top of the first hill and told him to not let me catch him (I'm pretty sure he was distracted by the 4 foot tall dog cheering everyone on and the size of it's poops, but hey, I don't judge.  We're runners.  Everyone thinks about poop). 

I slowed down somewhat for miles 7 and 8, taking the hills conservatively and letting loose a bit on the downhills.  My foot felt decent, my legs were too cold to care about how they felt, and I kept reminding myself to just keep in control.  Miles 9 and 10 were also pretty uneventful - aside from the cobblestone in Mt. Hope cemetery, the rollers didn't seem too bad.  I popped in one of my ear buds and listened to some music, and was just so damned happy to be out there.  I would lock up a bit, or start to breathe hard, or grab a cup of water and spill on my shoes....get annoyed for a second, breathe deep, and then smile.  Because I GOT to be here.  My foot was actually letting me run, and I was just
so grateful.

I hit mile 10 in 1:17:01 and knew most of the rest of the course was downhill.  I hadn't allowed myself to even think about a time goal to pursue beyond the 1:45, and I knew at that point I totally had that.  Hit mile 11 in 1:24:30 and I began to think a sun 1:40 was possible.  Then I did the math and realized I had probably needed to consider that goal a bit earlier to make it happen.  Still, I thought, why not give it a go?  Hit mile 12 in 1:32 and kept myself under control up the last crest of a hill at Ford Street to bring it home.

As I pursued the finish line in the last kilometer, I started to get really damned emotional.  I knew I was setting a huge PR and I was beyond thrilled.  With less than a quarter mile to go, I heard one of my buddies yelling out my name from the sidewalk and I hit the gas full tilt.  I was holding nothing back.  I crossed the finish line in 1:40:19, for a total of 13.16 miles at 7:38 pace, a nearly 10 minute open half PR.

Oh. My. God.  Marcus caught me shortly after I finished and listened to my ridiculous gibberish.  The Escort, Matt, and my buddy Prem were all at the finish and we had a great round of hugs and my head probably will never recover to normal size after all of their kind words.  The Boy (who finished his first stand alone half in 1:38) and the Outlaw (who is speedy and finished in 1:29) caught up with us and we did the mutual congratulations thing (apparently, the race is actually on for the next time when I am fully recovered - Boy, challenge accepted).  We all went in to get warm and ring the PR bell - believe it or not, after 14 years of racing, this was my first time ever scoring a PR where there was a bell, so there's a first time for everything!

Post race we grabbed some pizza and beer and hung out with Rochester Running Company, then Marcus and Maria dropped me off at the Y to take the kids to swim lessons (who says you get to nap after a race?)  It actually worked out well to get some of the lactic acid out of my legs, being in the water, though I'm not gonna lie, I'm sore as hell today.  The one bonus is my foot seems to be doing well, so I'm optimistic the culprit was my new shoes!

Overall Stats:
Official Finish Time: 1:40:19 (7:38 pace)
Distance: 13.16
Age Group: 5th/127
Overall Women: 30th/887
Total Overall: 147/1596

To say that I'm beyond thrilled is a huge understatement.  Another bonus:

The data.  While I'm fast learning the importance of data and a race plan, I have to say I usually suck at going out conservatively and finishing strong.  The proof that I executed this race well is evident in my overall pace - I nearly negative split the thing (49:57/50:22) and with all the hills on the back half, that's damn good.  My first 3 miles were run in 22:46 and my last 3 miles were run in 22:27, with the last .16 at a 6:20 pace.  I'd like to frame that as evidence I'll sorely need in 4 weeks when I toe the line at Buffalo....she can be taught!

Flower City - you gave me my long held PR 8 years ago, and once again, did not disappoint.  I'm sorry to say I plan on breaking 1:40 before 2027, but if I don't do it this year, I'll catch ya in 2020!

Bad Liar

In case you haven't noticed by my blog titles, I have a deep love for Imagine Dragons.  They stole my heart with "It's Time" back in 2012, held onto it with their second album (If you're a runner and have never listened to "Whatever it Takes" - you need to), and most recently, their single "Bad Liar" has been jamming out on repeat so often I think my family is getting the wrong impression.  Cool it, guys - while I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee with Dan Reynolds, it's really Ed Sheeran and Ryan Reynolds you have to worry about - and I have no shame admitting that those boys could abscond with me any old time they wanted to two are amazing artists and I have nothing but deep respect for both. 

Ahem.  Where was I?

Oh right, Imagine Dragons.  You see, it seems I have something to confess.  While I sort of dropped off the face of the earth after my last race, I've written a few blog posts that sort of address some of the complex feelings I've had in the past few weeks. 

Cause I only sort of told you the truth.    I wasn't lying when I said I felt a bit lost post race - happy, sure, but a little dissapointed I didn't make my goal.  Optimistic I could, in fact, hit that BQ, but at the same time, a little bit at loose ends.

It hasn't gotten better.  In fact, it's gotten worse.  And I've fallen victim to only posting when things are either A) Going great and I can give everyone the "You can do it!" oooh-rah or B) When I have a set back and I've already figured out the answer and can look all wise and reflective as I impart my wisdom on to everyone.

Well that's just a bunch of bullshit. If I'm going to advise you to stare down adversary and overcome it - to look at the things that scare you and just GO FOR IT, then it's equally as important that I handle myself the same way and admit when I've gotten off on the wrong foot.

Which...is the problem.  Since running my last race, it seems my right foot is, in fact....the wrong foot.  It started out a day or so pre race, with some heel pain that went away after a bit.  Post race, I tried my best to recover intelligently (not my forte), and thought I had done so.  A week post race, I set out on a nice easy 8 miler that was my demise.  After that run, I couldn't walk for a day.  Or bear weight on my right foot, at all. 

I did what any stupid runner would do.  I googled the shit out of it.  First, I determined it was a bruised heel and stayed off of it for a few days.  Then I decided it was plantar fasciitis and bought arch supports, compression sleeves and a boot to fix it. 

"I don't have time for this foot injury" starter pack

I ibuprofined.  I iced.  I debated cutting the foot off and learning how to run with one leg.  I cursed.  I cried.  In general, I was a real pain in the ass.

You see, I had plans.  I signed up for a BQ redemption race....Buffalo, on May 26th.  I had aspirations of taking everything from Coffee Milk and applying it to a race with a course I at least half knew, with aid stations every mile or two and getting that whole "I BQed" goal conquered before tri season started.

Apparently, my body had other plans.  It's not all bad.  I've uploaded Trainer Road and spent a ton of time on my bike, which I needed to do - and with fun workouts like "Broken Finger", "Bald Knob" and "Darwin", I've worked on my power output and been highly amused at the same time (Clearly, I'm a terrible triathlete, and have the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.  I know this.)  I've swam.  I've lifted.  But...I miss running. 

I'm not saying I've figured it out.  My foot pain, after almost two weeks, seems to have abated, so I'm thinking it was probably a bruised heel or my new shoes.  So yesterday, on whim of stupidity bravado, I signed up for a half marathon this weekend I've been eyeing.  It was intended to destroy my previous PR, which on paper is a 1:50 for a straight half, and a 1:49 for a full marathon split.  In training, I've hit 13.1 miles in 1:42.  So I clearly have things to do.

Of course, this morning, full of the same sense of false security, I went out on a run, intending to tempo 3 miles at a sub 8:00 split to see if I could pace a 1:45 half (which is my reasonable goal, seeing as I've done no speed work in a month).  Two miles into the three mile tempo, I nearly blacked out and hit the sidewalk. I felt dizzy, lightheaded, and my heart felt like it was going to explode.  With a 7:45 mile.  I picked myself up, walked it out, and gave it another shot.  I made it through, with two 3 milers in 23:58 and 24:22.  But it felt awful.  Why am I running a half marathon in 3 days?  I don't know.  (Well, we do know -I'm not that bright). 

So, of course, I turn to Imagine Dragons for some inspo:

(So) Look me in the eyes, tell me what you see
Perfect paradise, tearin' at the seams
I wish I could escape it, I don't wanna fake it
Wish I could erase it, make your heart believe

But I'm a bad liar, bad liar
Now you know, now you know

All I know right now is...I don't know.  But I do know I'll figure it out, I just haven't yet.  And making peace with the fact that I don't have it all figure out is the only way to handle it right now.  Deep breaths. And (hopefully) one step at a time. 

(Holla if) You' Feel Like You've Been Down the Same Road

Yeah, it's been a ride...I guess I had to go to that place to get to this one... 

I think its pretty unavoidable to not jam out to Eminem when you're a runner, triathlete or any kind of athlete at all (Check out this Kona video to 'Till I Collapse and tell me you aren't inspired.  I'll wait.)

Sadly, me and the 'nem don't often work out together anymore (we had a bad 8 mile run (ba dum ching)) but when I think about facing adversary or any of the tough stuff, I can't help but revert to 'Till I collapse' or 'Lose Yourself' or 'Superman' (Mom, don't listen to any of those songs.  Please.)

Well, after last weeks race, I definitely have Eminem on the brain.  I wasn't lying when I said I was really pleased with my shiny new PR, but I think I've also made it clear that part of me is bummed that I missed my goal.  After my last post, I actually got an email from a reader (I can't believe I actually have those....he also wasn't trying to sell me a timeshare in Nicaragua, this was legit, guys!) regarding these "big scary goals" of mine.  Specifically, how do you deal with it when you put everything you have into one of them, and it just flat out doesn't happen?  How do you deal with it?

It's a legit question.  And thanks, James, for the inquiry. I'm sorry you're stuck reading my drivel now, but I'll do my best to explain my mindset, post race.

The concept of big, scary goals has been a tough one for me to wrap my mind around.  It started out with the idea that if I wasn't afraid to dream big dreams and go after them, then logically, great things would happen.  I set my sights on a few goals that seemed a stretch, but realistic - to beat 3:45 in the marathon, and to get the hell on my bike again.

Wait, what?

Yep, you heard me right.  In my midst of chasing the 3:35, I completely forgot that my first goal for the Coffee Milk marathon was actually a 3:45.

Evidence:

See, the thing was, once I got invested in this goal and started to try to make it happen, my mindset shifted.  A 3:45 not only seemed reasonable, but after running with the fast crowd that I did (Again, Mom, a RUNNING metaphor!) I knew I could do better than a 3:45.  So I aimed higher.  And did something I had never done before.  I made it public.  I let everyone know that I was aiming for Boston and damned anything less.  I was fully vested.  I kept my eyes on this goal and didn't waver.  Not when I had a bad day, not when I saw obstacles in front of me.  Not ever.  And something amazing happened.

I realized, at mile 16 of the race, that a BQ was not in the cards.  At least, not on April 7th.  But something even more incredible happened.  I wasn't afraid.  To be vulnerable.  To make mistakes. To fail.

And what happened?

I didn't fail.  I walked away with a trophy, a new PR, and the sense that when shit got tough, I did not, in fact, fold and walk away.

And those lessons are going to pay dividends for the 2019 season.  It's really easy to go forward confidently when everything is going your way. It's much less so when you're running against the wind, running on empty (pick your best crappy running song.  Both of those win).

So you give it your all.  You pick yourself up at the end of your very best effort, and you ask yourself honest questions.  Was the goal realistic (if a bit of a stretch?).  Do you need to reconsider it?  No?  Good.  Then re assert yourself and go for it again.

And I intend to.  I've stepped back for the last week, reviewed the day, both from an analytical and emotional mind, and decided, yes, dammit, I can shave off 6 minutes and 47 seconds from that marathon.  It's gonna happen.  Stay tuned for it.

I'm not afraid to make mistakes with this.  To call Coffee Milk one hell of a training run, to learn from it, and to go forward with all of the knowledge I gleaned from giving it my all and going forward confidently in the direction of what I want.

I'm not afraid (I'm not afraid)
To take a stand (to take a stand)
Everybody (everybody)
Come take my hand come (come take my hand)
We'll walk this road together, through the storm
Whatever weather, cold or warm
Just letting you know that, you're not alone
Holla if you feel like you've been down the same road

So there you go.  The answer is - don't throw in the towel.  Don't be afraid to run after what you want - because if you don't do it, who will? Then pick yourself the hell up, dust off your ego, and go for those big scary goals.  Because you CAN do it.

And to celebrate this line of thinking, I tackled that next big scary goal.  And took my bike out for a ride.  On April 16th.  I'm damned proud of myself.  It's so on this year.  So. On.

Coffee Milk Marathon 2019: The Moonshot

It's the power of positive thinking, people.

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.” (Norman Peale).

And so it goes.

Spoiler alert - as many of you know, my moonshot goal of Boston Qualifying this weekend...did not happen.  Am I mad?  Not even a little bit.  I had hoped to go into the day with fortitude, energy, and all of the resources I had into making my dream happen.  And I did.  I can walk away saying that at this day and time, I wouldn't have changed a thing that I did based off of the knowledge I had going into the race.  Did I walk away with lessons learned?  You bet. Did I walk away with a new perspective on my ultimate goal?  Also a yes.  And with that, I'm in a much better spot to go into my next attempt at this goal with a much better chance of "gettin' it done!"

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let's rewind for the oh so riveting...RACE REPORT.

Since this  marathon was about 6 hours away and I don't have the luxury of all the dollars and the au pairs in the world, I had decided to make the trek myself on Saturday to the "fun sized" state (thanks Dad!) of Rhode Island.  Thankfully, on Thursday, Greg talked me out of this nonsense and offered to sherpa me for the weekend - which, with the help of the Grandma's (you guys rock!) who took control of my adorable monsters for the weekend - made the trip that much easier.  We left early morning Saturday, crappy 90s tunes jammin', and had a great trip East with quite a bit of catching up and minimal taper and nervous bitchiness on my part.

Upon arrival, we checked into the hotel, grabbed the ridiculous course map, and headed out to get lost in the Ocean state.  Thankfully, the course was already somewhat marked, so we were able to follow until mile 8 with only two questionable turns.  Unfortunately, the course turned onto a bike path then, and with the sanskrit hand drawn map in front of us, there was no feasible way to continue with the course recon.  Undeterred, we found a beach close by and played in the sand for a bit before returning back to the hotel, pre race pasta, and the unreal bedtime of 8pm - with a 5am wake up on tap.

My mom called to wish me luck before bed and asked about my goal time - she thought I should be done by 2 hours, right?  I told her I was aiming for 3:30 -3:45 and she made Greg promise to go look for me if he didn't see me finish in 3 hours.  My mother's love and enthusiasm amazes me....we won't ever educate her on the world record for marathons....it would shatter her.

But about that sleep....Yeah right.  Who sleeps the night before a race anyways?  Not me.  I woke up at midnight, 1:30, 3am and finally at 4 gave up the ghost.  I tried to let poor Greg sleep but somehow ended up jamming to Ginuwine's "Pony" with my hairbrush as a mic.  (Who wants to sherpa my next race...anyone?  Bueller?  Bueller?)

Caught on camera for your enjoyment.  I'll be here all week.

Amidst way more one hit wonders that deserved to die, a bagel, some Gatorade, and a few bathroom stops later, we were ready to hit it.  The race site was about 15 minutes away, so we got there about an hour early, grabbed my bib, t shirt, and decided to spill the rest of the Gatorade all over my socks and warm ups.  Way to go, Rae.  I made the risky decision to go sock less, which I prefer anyways, I've just never been brave enough to do for a full marathon.

Beware the Reaper!

Body glided up all the hot spots, stuffed my bra with gu, my MP3 player, gum and emergency gummy snax (Look, I can go from a B cup to a C cup in 30 seconds!) and without much fanfare, headed to the start line.  The full and the half went off at the same time, with about 100 people in the full and 150 in the half - not bad for a small race.  The RD gave a few directions, assuring us no one would get lost (this was unfortunately not true....42 turns in a marathon means someone will get lost, but thank god I didn't)...and at 8:02, we were off!!

I lined up somewhat toward the beginning, not knowing how these Rhode Islanders shook it.  Turns out, pretty fast.  About 1/3 of the way back at mile .25, the first u turn (of at least 9, at my count...SMH) I looked down at my watch and saw 6:35 pace.  Shit.  I'd had a few instructions from my sensei and the professor for pacing goals - the faster end being 7:57, the slower end at 8:08....and I felt the wrath from 375 miles away to slow at least to a 7:30 pace.  Hit miles 1 and 2 between 7:35 and 7:40 and felt pretty fantastic.  Mile 3 had a slight uphill and I checked myself, grabbed water, and hit it in 8:03.

At this point, the race turned toward some kind of car birthing center.  Porsche's, Audi's, Tesla's Volkswagen's, you name it.  There were easily thousands of cars in their bright white wrappers, flagged with camera surveillance videos, obviously not to protect the cars but to catch any of us wayward 250 runners trying to cop a course cut.  The pressure.  was. on.  Nonetheless, I swallowed my obvious celebrity status and maintained my 7:50-8:00 pace through miles 4, 5 and 6 and 7, with gel one done at mile 6 and chased with water. 

At mile 8, we turned off the car birthing center and hit the bike trail.  At this point I found my sugar daddy running buddy, who at 55, was trying to hit the same 3:35 I was.  Ed, from Connecticut, who had two grown kids and has run Boston 4 times, was the perfect running partner, until mile 10, when I realized I was burning too many matches being social and not enough on my race.  I let Ed go ahead, and lost him till mile 19 when I passed him back up (Poor Ed had a horrible race and limped to the finish in 4:09.  Felt bad for the guy).

Miles 10, 11 and 12 were pretty uneventful, save for one decent hill at mile 10 which led to an 8:37 split.  No prob.  I took in another gel at mile 13, which I clocked in 1:44 (race time 1:45 - the mile markers were about .10 ahead of me).  Doing the math, I felt pretty good about a 1:50 second half split, even with the wind hitting us at a pretty decent speed (news flash - this never let up, and I can't figure out how they do it in Rhode Island, but there was no tail wind.  Ever.)  I started to  look for the next water station, which up until then, were almost exactly 2 miles apart.  And looked.  And looked.  Nothing.  Finally saw it at mile 15, which was a weird u bend turn which messed with everyone.  There was no one at the stop, so we grabbed our own water, and I grabbed two cups, feeling pretty off and way too thirsty.  The worst part was that this back portion of our out and back also featured no water....and I knew I was running dry until mile 18.5.  The temps weren't too bad, but at low 60s with a full sun, I knew the situation wasn't good.  My legs felt decent, but after another mile I was super thirsty.  My chest began to hurt, and I walked.  I began counting walk breaks with 100 steps (an old Ironman trick) then started to run again.  I saw a few miles come in at 9 minutes plus, and did some dangerous math that made me realize this might not be the day.

At mile 18.5, I again grabbed two water cups, and felt better....for a mile.  Saw my buddy Ed at mile 19, who looked completely shot.  He was it.  I ran alone from mile 10 to mile 26.2...and while I don't need company, I was in the sweet spot of being faster than most of the women and in between the speedy guys and the random guys that ran slightly faster or slower than me.

Hit mile 20 in 2:45, 2 minutes off my projected goal, and still thirsty.  There was THANK goodness another water stop at mile 21, and we turned back to the "back" portion of the out that Greg and I were able to canvass most of.

Greg had found me again at mile 22, right before a massive hill, which I hit in 3:03.  He saw me coming, pretty sure I was going to be mad, as sub 8 minute miles were not happening.  I made a decision when he asked if I needed anything, and nodded - leaned in for a big smooch, and told him how grateful I was to have him out there and that it was going to be a wonderful day to PR, but not a Boston bound day.  And with that, I ran up the hill, making sure to enjoy the beautiful, windy downhill, and the joy of being out there and doing what I loved most.

Mile 23 and 24 were pretty uneventful, with thankfully another water stop at mile 24.  We turned onto the last main drag and were hit full force with a headwind that knocked off my visor but at mile 25, who the hell cares - you know you are 10 minutes away from being done!  I turned onto the road we started....had to run PAST the finish line, and do that stupid u turn again (seriously, were they channelling Mirror Lake Drive?)

Mile 25.5....seriously, the finish line is RIGHT. THERE.

Rounded back to the final stretch and gave it all I had to finish this beast in 3:41:44, 26.3 miles at an 8:26 pace and a 12 minute PR.

Right after finishing, they printed out my time and let me know I was 5th overall woman and 3rd in the 30-39 age group (they only did overall for first place).  I was immediately given my bling (huge score for the RD!) and Greg snapped a pic of the hardware.

I walked around like an idiot for a bit, looked at the post race coffee milk and pizza, and just couldn't even, so I settled for a bottle of water and a walk back to the car.  Greg and I headed to the nearest Y, I grabbed a quick shower, and less than 30 minutes post finish we were headed home!

Post Race Reflections:

Overall, given the day and the course, I'm really pleased with my time and what I laid out on the course.  Greg and I did a pretty good recap on the way home and he shared with me that even though he knew I had the fitness, that this was a tough course to BQ in - the layout was sketchy, there were too many turns and unknowns, and looking back at the pre race email, even though they stated water stops every two miles, the RD then followed up with - drink water or you might not get any for 4 miles.  With this hindsight, I should have carried water.  I went into a really dark place between miles 16-18 that was just plain out of dehydration and I could have avoided that - though, to be fair, as someone that loathes bringing hydration, I'm not sure I would have done any different.  The wind also made the day tough, but that couldn't be avoided.  The drive the day before also probably didn't help - again, nothing I would have changed, but there you go.

Things I did well:

Nutrition.  My pre race breakfast of a bagel with butter, Gatorade, and applesauce was spot on.  Nothing came up or out, and my stomach did super well.  Taking a gu at :45, 1:45 and 2:45 was also great advice, though water would have helped at 1:45.  Way to go, Sensei - thank you!

Body gliding and socklessness.  I might get smashed for this, but no socks worked super well for me.  No blisters, no rubbing, and my feet feel great.  I also grabbed all my hot spots and don't look my normal post war victim self post race with a mess of raw spots where my shorts and bra rubbed.

Pacing:  I still think I did well with this.  My stride and form were still pretty darn good at mile 21, 24 and 25.  Not "I just ran 3 miles" but certainly not "I already ran 20".

Overall, the consensus is - my fitness is there.  But this was just not the day or the course to do it.  I walked away with some great lessons learned and some thoughts about how to shave off those pesky 6 minutes and 45 seconds.  Dangerous thoughts?  Possibly.  I've been issued the wise edict to take a few days off from running (no, I most certainly did not run 4 miles yesterday, do I look like an idiot?  Yes, you do Rae.)

And then.  Goals.  I'm coming for you.   Watch out.  

You Can't Stop Me

Boy, tapering gives you time.

Time to pause and think about things.  About your training, about the color of the walls in your kitchen (really need to redo those....shall I run out and do all the projects now that I have time?), about life. It's such a dangerous thing.

This year, I decided to make some big changes in my life.  With that, I've been looking back at the first 3 months of the year with some wonder, some amazement, some regret, and some plain disbelief.  As most people do, I started off the year with some goals.  Really, one goal.

To do big, scary things.

Many people would posit that big scary things is a terrible goal to have.  Its ambiguous.  Hard to pin down.  What the frig does it even mean, Rae?

I'll explain.

The past few years have been pretty crazy for me.  Even in the best world, as a person at a pivotal age (I just made that up - does it sound good?) trying to figure out life through some pretty big milestones - becoming a mom (twice), a pretty big career transition, a total game changer with Greg's career, paying off the house, and some insane by the "average bystander" athletic goals - first ultra marathon - followed by two more, breaking 4 hours in the marathon, and doing an Ironman with two young kids - add in another dozen marathons, countless triathlons and shorter road races.....my life in the last 6 years has been nuts.

There have been great achievements.  I have some damned amazing kids.  A solid career path.  A wonderful husband that is a great life partner.  And some pretty sweet achievements as a runner and triathlete that, when I take stock of, I'm pretty damned proud of (57 mile PR in 12 hour road race, a 3rd Ironman finish, and a new marathon PR of 3:53).

But why settle? It's not in my nature.  And the past two years (2017 and 2018) laid down a few massive challenges where I failed epicly simply because I got too comfortable. A set back at work because I buried my head in the sand and went with the flow.  A fail at home because I rested on my laurels and didn't speak up. And Ironman Lake Placid 2018 was a huge cluster fuck because I let the fear of the bike go to my head.

As I took stock at the end of the year in 2018, I knew that I needed to stop complaining and start doing.  To stop being a passive bystander to  the circumstances in my life that I disliked, and to step up and do the things to make them change.

The big, scary things.

I started off with swimming and running.  Because even though I have not been a lifelong athlete, over the past ten years of endurance training, running (and biking and swimming) have almost become a microcosm for my entire life - it seems that the truths that happen during my workouts seem to mimic my life on a smaller scale with frightening regularity.

Swimming came naturally and easily.  I've blogged before about the serendipitous meeting at the Y with one of my now training buddies that turned around the way I look at swimming - and 6 months later this new way of thinking and training has shaved 4-5 minutes off my mile swim time.  All it took was the humbleness to accept that my way of thinking might not be the best and to open myself up to someone that perhaps might know better.  Out of it I have a better swim skill, and just as importantly, a whole new cast of friends to train with and race with in 2019.

Running has been another huge area of doing the big scary things in 2019.  I've blogged quite a bit about the IRB runs, the new PRs on training runs set, and the fabulousness of getting outside my element to train and race with those I never would have before.  I've mastered the fast race simulated training runs with the Rabbit and the Escort.  I've done tempo and long runs with the Pace Man.  And I've even learned how to do recovery runs from the King of Slow.  (Seriously, does anyone go by their real name anymore?  No?  Well thank goodness.  Let's continue to keep it interesting, folks).

Aside from multi sport (I swear I do have a life) I've applied this logic to two more places - work and home.  At work I've started stepping up and taking on more - of not being afraid to speak up for what I believe in, to make a leap that possibly might not end well, and to step back and consider ideas I might have written off.

The same applies at home.  We have a pretty good family dynamic, but there are ways in both my marriage and parenting skills needed some reflection.  Through mutual discussion and support, Greg and I have really looked at what we do well, at what is missing, and have had some serious heart to hearts about how we want to be as people, both together and as individuals.

So, whats the final verdict, Rae?

There have been some snags, as there always will be.  When you attempt to turn the way you view your role in life on its head, there always will be.  Runs where I have completely bonked and hit the wall because I refused to acknowledge a defined limit.  Swims where I have hit failure mid set and did the doggy paddle of shame to the wall.  Humbling apologies to my funder for screwing up.  And a few tense situations where I have had to let my guard down and not be afraid to have a real discussion or admit failure or misjudgment.

There also have been beautiful butterfly moments of emergence from a self constructed cocoon.

This past week, I've felt pretty vulnerable in a few situations that I normally would not have been.  Affected by words or actions that normally wouldn't affect me.  Allowing other people to set the bar for how I feel about life and myself.  It hasn't been pretty.

I can blame it on the taper, lack of sleep, this shitty weather, or do the right thing.  And accept that I am not a product of life circumstances, but how I handle them.  And how I feel about myself is really up to me, and no one else.  It's about surrounding myself with people that lift me up as much as possible, and not allowing those that don't to get to me.

And that this life is about taking the bull by the horns and going confidently in the direction of my dreams.  And pursuing them with all I have.


And, as it usually does, that starts out with that running thing.....which is in 4 days.  And 26.2 miles.  I'm not afraid to chase those dreams.  And even if I fail trying, I'm excited to throw my whole self at it and see what I can actually do.  As I prep for the race, I'm pulling together my epic 26.2 play list, which includes a new song that seems to be the best summation of how I feel about life right now
 - Andy Mineo's "You Can't Stop Me" - "I got two choices when I do this - make moves or make excuses".


Big, scary goals.  Watch out.  I'm coming for you.

Coffee Milk Week 15: X Gonna Give to Ya

First we gonna rock, then we gonna roll, then we let it....well, taper.  This was the first week of taper and it's lived up to its terrible hype.  For everyone out there that enjoys the taper, my hats off to you.  I can excel at the whole first 14 weeks of a plan only to fall to complete pieces in the last two.

Nonetheless, if we wanna go fast, we taper.  This weeks installment of terrible workouts included a long run of ten miles, a tempo 6 miler with 4 miles at sub 8 pace, and a speed work "strength" session of 4 x 1.5 mile repeats, which is the only workout I deviated in and turned into a 6 miler at 7:40 pace.

The tempo workout (1 mile warm up, 4 miles at avg 7:45 pace and a 1 mile cool down), felt terrible.  My lungs hurt, my legs were stiff, and I basically had no clue how I could maintain the pace for any  length of time.

The long run, which I wisely opted to do alone and on the morning after about 2 hours sleep, felt equally terrible at an 8:30 pace.  Suffice to say the thought of holding a faster pace than this for 26.2 miles feels HIGHLY unreasonable.

My recovery runs, held at close to a 9 minute mile, felt easy leg wise and terrible breathing wise.

Basically, I'm dying.  I have no energy, no legs, and no discernible shot at PRing this marathon, let alone even thinking magical Boston dreams.

Good job taper, you're doing it right!  After every run, I would get home and get asked the same question - "How did your run go?".  Same answer.  TERRIBLE.  Same response.  THAT'S AWESOME!

Runners.  Thank god we understand each other.

The only saving grace in terms of run-spo came, ironically, from work.  I was asked to represent my agency at a Lifespan luncheon where the keynote was Kathrine Switzer, who, if you are a non runner, is an iconic figure in the female running community - in 1967, she became the first woman to ever complete registered in a marathon - ironically, at Boston.

Her story and speech were incredible, and despite the "taper blues", made me want to jump in my car, drive to Rhode Island, and run 26.2 immediately.  While she never set out to "break barriers", her feisty spirit of hitting adversary head on had me sitting in the audience, tears streaming down my face.  She spoke of being issued challenges, of being given goals in the guise of people thinking you cannot do something and proving them wrong, which sent shivers down my spine.

She challenged us to live our lives by participating, not by spectating.

And she defined destiny as finishing the job.  Not about being given magical powers, but by staying the course every day and making it happen.


100% phenomenal. And during a training week where the wheels totally came off, exactly what I needed.

Week 15 Mileage:

Running: 44.1

Biking: 25

Swimming: 7500 yards

To cap off the week, the annual Barkley marathons began in Frozen Head on Saturday morning at 9:23am.  If you ever wanted to feel pathetic about your athletic aspirations, google it.  If you ever wanted evidence that I am in fact crazy, know that, along with my PCT hiking fool cousin Noah, I intend to enter it one day.

Because why not.  No limits.

But for the next 6 days, my athletic limits lay in 3-6 mile easy runs, race day strategizing, and obsessive weather checking.

Reminds me of the Lake Placid thread with likely asteroids and a high of 212 degrees.  Man, that was epic :-P