It’s race week! Which means I should currently be in the throes of taper madness — obsessing over the weather, trying not to freak out about every new ache and pain, planning my race outfit/playlist, hydrating, and fighting all that taper-anxiety to make sure I get enough rest.

But I’m not doing any of those things. Because I’m not running VCM.

Now before you start to think that I just suffered some sort of traumatic injury or illness, let me assure you – I am fine. While the decision may seem sudden based on the blog, it’s actually something I’ve been mulling over for a long time. My silence on the issue isn’t because I’ve been trying to hide it from you. I’ve simply been in a bit of denial about the race, and have avoided thinking about it as much as possible over the past several weeks.

At this point, I think it’s probably best that I stop signing up for spring marathons. Because I kind of feel like after 2 springs in a row, this DNS thing might start to seem like a habit…obviously the last thing I want. It’s been a weird year of running for me. Like last year, my training for VCM all ended after a strong 20 mile run. Otherwise known as the last time I really mentioned training on the blog. And in case you were keeping track — that was over a month ago.

Totally irrelevant photo…but I needed something pretty to break up the depressing text.

So if I’m not seriously injured or ill, why am I not running? The simple answer is — training did not go as I had hoped/planned. Those of you who have been reading my blog may not even be all that surprised by this admission. It was pretty clear that training had been a bit of a roller coast for me this winter/spring. At times it felt okay, but for a good long while running was just hard. I didn’t feel like myself and I just couldn’t get in the groove, mentally or physically.

But then March came along and everything started falling into place. I had some great runs that finally made me excited to dive into the final weeks of training. …until I started experiencing some lower back/sciatic pain that I’m sure was exacerbated by the hills and my bad habit of not stretching/rolling enough. I took a little time off to keep things from getting worse, but that was the beginning of the end. Things just weren’t the same after that. I wasn’t able to hit the paces or the mileage I needed. My back pain went away, but I just couldn’t salvage the training.

There’s a lot going on in my life right now. Some of it (like the move) makes it onto the blog. Some doesn’t. One exciting update that I haven’t been able to share until now is that I recently started a new job — an exciting but also stressful change. I don’t talk about this much because, honestly, it was the source of a lot of embarrassment for me. But I haven’t been in an office for almost an entire year. 11 long months. Although a lot of that has been completely outside of my control, it’s not something I’m all that proud of.

When we first moved to Vermont, I kept busy with a pretty large consulting project. It made the transition easier, and I can’t say I missed going to work (at all!). But over the past few months, I realized that the freelance life isn’t for me. I finally focused 100% of my efforts into finding something more permanent, a search that as many of you know, can be a roller coaster of highs and depressing lows. After many many rejections, I’m so excited to finally be headed back to work — and to be involved in something that I’m incredibly passionate about. It’s been an adjustment, but I can’t even tell you how nice it is to get out of my own head and be a part of something that’s bigger than myself again. Sorry, but I don’t know how full time bloggers do it. Staying at home and thinking of nothing but myself and my blog day after day would drive me insane (which would explain the fact that even though I had more free time, I actually posted less).

There are seasons in running (and in life) where everything comes together. Your training clicks, your paces get faster, and you feel strong and unstoppable. I’m clearly not in one of those seasons right now. But I’m at peace with it. I plan to run until until my last day on this earth…or at least as long as I can manage. And if I want to do that, I need to accept the down times right along with the “I’m on top of the {running} world times.”

And finally, to tell you the complete honest truth, I’m really not all that interested in completing a marathon just to say I finished. I’ve been there, done that. While it can be a great motivator for many, it’s just not for me anymore. The joy, the challenge, of a marathon is in the work. I want to hurt. I want to push. I want to be brought to that dark place in the later miles and come out on the other side, smiling and victorious. The number of marathons I’ve completed has way less meaning to me than the time on the clock at the end. I know not everyone agrees with this way of thinking. But the reality is that I don’t really think marathons are all that fun. It’s this competition against the clock and myself that keeps me motivated through 26.2 miles of pain.

I wouldn’t get that with VCM. While I’m pretty sure I could technically finish the marathon (never underestimate the power of mental strength and determination), after running 3 marathons with almost the same exact time on the clock, I want more than that. I want my next marathon to be a testament to all my hard work. And I want more than a 3:18 (or slower).

So I’m not running. Instead, I’ll be playing the role of official chauffeur, cheerleader, and pacer for another gal gunning for a PR. I’m sure I’ll feel pangs of regret and sadness this weekend. Since I never technically deferred (you had to do so by April 22nd), there’s still a number waiting for me in Burlington. And I may be just a little tempted to toe that starting line, despite everything I just rambled on and on about.

But mostly, I feel at peace with the decision. Letting go of marathon training has allowed me to run for fun again, and to focus on all the other good and exciting changes that are happening right now. This past weekend, most of my family made the trip up to Vermont for a mini-vacation. It was the first time we have all been together for more than a day since my wedding last year, and it was absolutely wonderful. I got to relax with them, go on some great hikes with my favorite niece in all the world, and not stress about getting in my final marathon workouts.

This Saturday is the big Girls on the Run 5K that our girls have been training for all spring. Instead of stressing about spending too much time on my feet the day before I race, I can now go run and enjoy the festivities without worry. I can’t wait to feel their excitement and share in their joy of completing the run.

Life is funny. And timing doesn’t always work out quite the way we had planned. All we can do is keep moving forward. New, long-term goals are in the works. I will get that marathon PR someday. It just won’t be this weekend.

Oh hello there! I guess it’s been awhile, but I can’t imagine there’s anyone out there besides me who is keeping track. Even the spammers are still under the impression that this remains a regularly updated blog (I swear I’m getting way more spam comments daily than I used to get in a month. What gives??).

Anyway, we survived yet another move and are slowly getting settled into the new place. It’s crazy how a house can start to feel like home so quickly.

I think even the pup is excited about the change.

I’ve been trying to weasel my way out of many of the unpacking duties by sneaking out for runs around town. There’s nothing quite like exploring on foot. It’s by far favorite way to get to know a new area. And lately I’ve been especially giddy because there’s just so much more to see.

There were only 3 real roads that ran through the center of our old town. Three. Have I mentioned before that we lived in a teeny tiny village? This basically meant that on any given day, I could head out in one of 4 directions to get in a decent run. It goes without saying that those roads and I got to know each other pretty well over the past year. I knew all their curves, their climbs and falls, their shady and sunny spots, beautiful views, landmarks and conditions. This obviously didn’t make for many exciting runs, but there was something comforting about it. I loved how easy it was to zone out and enjoy a mindless run — just letting the road guide me without much thought. I ran those roads so often that running was always on my mind. I would drive from place to place and imagine myself running along that same stretch — picturing myself feeling strong and fast and flashing back to recent runs.

It was sad to leave those familiar streets behind, but I can’t say that I wasn’t looking forward to some new running adventures. Because, you know…after the umpteeth-hundred run in a particular direction, things are bound to get just a little monotonous.

So in my past week of run-exploring, here’s what I’ve learned.

Every run is a hill run. Yeah, I know I said that my old town was hilly and you’re probably sick of me talking about it, but that was all back when I was a naive flatlander experiencing Vermont running for the first time. Don’t get me wrong – I had some tough runs around my old house. But I kind of knew how to finagle the routes so that I could avoid the worst climbs on all but long runs if I wanted to.

Just a sample from a recent run. That dark purple area = 11% grade. Fun stuff.

But here? I don’t think there’s more than a mile of flat land anywhere in the near vicinity. And the hills aren’t your nice friendly little rollers that make a running route fun. These babies all seem to be of the “sucking wind, doubled over, practically walking up” variety. I don’t really know what I expected. When you essentially live at the base of a ski mountain, hills sort of come with the territory.

At least they come with some pretty amazing views.

Looking forward to the day the Green Mountains actually turn green again

Speed work has morphed into hill work…at least for now. With the aforementioned climbs I seem to face wherever I turn, my average pace isn’t exactly something to brag about. So instead of running the same tiny stretch of road over and over, I’ve just decided to embrace the climbs. I may be slow and my tempo runs may not exactly be at a tempo pace (or anything resembling “fast”), but my soaring heart rate and burning lungs would suggest otherwise.

More than ever, I’m really hoping the old adage “hills are speed work in disguise” holds true.

Pictures don’t really do it justice…

Every road is a dead end. Or most of them anyway. So much for walkabity. I know this is what happens when you move out of the city — the privacy and quietness of dead end streets is still valued more highly than grid networks…at least outside of the village centers. Plus, you know, things aren’t exactly developed out here. When we first moved, I was so excited by the sheer number of roads I now had to explore. But after a little over a week’s worth of runs, I have come to the conclusion that most of the roads follow the same format: climb up super steep hill, turn into dirt, end abruptly. My running routes look a little funny with all the mini out-and-backs, but hey – it’s all part of the adventure, right?

Finally (and most importantly):

If it looks sketchy and it feels sketchy, chances are it IS sketchy. And you should turn around immediately.

On one of my very first runs here, I randomly turned off into what I thought looked like it could be a nice neighborhood. But the paved road quickly got narrower and the houses got more spread out. By the time the road turned to dirt, there weren’t many houses in sight. A quiet little voice in the back of my head told me to turn around. But the road went around a sharp bend and started climbing up a hill, and I just had to see what was at the top. I came around the final bend and was greeted by a strange tall, unfinished little square tower (seriously – so weird looking). At first I thought it was just a construction site. But a few more steps revealed a large piece of land with all sorts of random crap strewn about. And a metal trailer with something in black painted on the side. I squinted, ran a few steps closer and was just able to make out “STAY A” when I noticed the other identical trailer with an equally friendly message:

“STOP STEAL GET SHOT”

Welcome to rural Vermont.

All I could picture…

While I had no intention of doing any of those things, I figured it was probably better not to take any chances. I immediately turned around and fled from the scene as fast as fast as I possibly could. Needless to say, that’s one route I won’t be taking ever again.

Anyone else have any “sketchy run” stories? I can’t be the only one who gets herself into trouble by her need to explore new routes.

It’s only Tuesday, but this week has already felt so long. I guess when you compare it to the never-ending horror of the week before it shouldn’t feel that way at all. But truthfully, between everything that happened — the bombing, the explosion in West Texas, the devastating earthquake in China, and the tense manhunt on Friday — I only just now feel like I’m coming up for air (I’m sure many others feel the same).

It doesn’t help that we’re moving on Saturday and still have a ton left to do. And on top of all that, I’m currently trying to cut back on my caffeine intake (no, I have nothing against caffeine. But I think drinking less of it every single day can ultimately help my running. More on that later…). Probably not the best time to start this ridiculous challenge. But whatever, I’m already committed.

The problem is, the world doesn’t seem quite so bright without my beloved caffeine coursing through my veins (…sign of a true addict…).

So today’s post is brought to you in bullet form.

• It was really moving to see the way that runners from all over the country came together and participated in various #BostonStrong events last night. You’ll be surprised to hear that there wasn’t an official run in “The Middle of Nowhere” Vermont, so I went out on a little Boston run of my own…decked out in my lovely bright yellow shirt from 2009. Not quite the same, but it was nice to take time to reflect on the events of the past week. I know it’ll be a long road ahead, but I pray that the people of Boston are healing.

There are many ways you can help the victims of Monday’s bombings, including making a donation to the The One Fund Boston

• Training is….still going. Last week’s runs were kind of a free-for-all. Despite trying several times, I just couldn’t muster up the motivation to get through any speed work. So I scrapped any plans to run fast and simply focused on running. I’m not going to lie — it felt good not to worry about my pace at all for a few days. Plus, last week just seemed to call for difficulty in the form of tackling hills, not mile repeats.

• We’ll be one month out from Vermont City Marathon this weekend. I cannot believe it’s coming so fast. I can’t say that I feel truly ready yet, but here’s hoping a few hard weeks of training changes that.

• Last Saturday I came downstairs, looked around, and was hit by the realization that we were moving in exactly one week and had absolutely nothing packed. I swore to myself I wasn’t going to procrastinate this time around, but here we are…down to the last days and scrambling to finish. The pressure is on — we have some very official movers coming on Saturday (aka the in-laws) and I’m not so sure Evan’s mom will be thrilled at the prospect of packing up our bedrooms for us.

• I have moved almost every year since college. In case you’re wondering, that adds up to…a lot of moves. All of these moves have been done sans movers – just myself and whatever unlucky friends/family we’ve been able to recruit with the promise of free pizza and beer. You’d think that after all this time I’d have basically become a professional. But nope. My hatred for packing burns stronger than ever.

• Evan sat me down this weekend to make a list of “packing tasks.” He wanted to assign one room to each day in order to make packing up an entire house seem a little more manageable.

Or at least that’s what I’m assuming he was doing. I was too busy trying to escape.

•  It’s not just packing for moves, mind you. Whenever I have to pack to go anywhere, I’m scrambling at the last minute…throwing whatever I can into the suitcase (because who knows what you might need!).

This…every single time.

• I’m trying to take a more organized approach this time around, but I just know that Friday night is going to roll around and all hell will break loose. I’ll be throwing everything that’s left into the same box. Good luck trying to find the kitchen stuff later.

• I am really really going to miss our tiny little town. The sadness has hit me more than once in the past week. Don’t get me wrong — I’m excited to get into our new house. And to live in a place with just a few more people that are actually in town year-round. But I’m going to miss the quaintness. The trails that are basically right out our back door. The views. And of course, the easy access to the best cheese in the entire world.

Koli reflects on his time here

• Fortunately we aren’t moving all that far away. A half hour is easy driving distance anywhere — in Vermont, that’s basically your standard trip to the grocery store.

Green is finally returning to the Green Mountain State

 –

Good luck to everyone racing this weekend! I’ll be thinking of you while I’m having the best time lugging boxes up and down the stairs.

I didn’t run my half marathon this weekend. We had some stuff come up with our family that resulted in a last minute trip out of town, leaving me with yet another DNS to my name. Selfishly I was disappointed. No runner wants to DNS a race they’ve been training for, and I seem to be accumulating quite a few of those these days.

The one silver lining to all of this was Boston. Our last minute trip meant that we’d be heading back through MA on Monday morning, just in time to cheer for the marathon. As always, I pushed to go into the city. Every year, no matter where we start out, we make our way down to the finish area after everyone we know has run by. I love being a part of the crowd on Boylston Street. Seeing finishers push to the end on nothing but pure will and heart is one of the most inspiring moments you can hope to witness as a runner…and as a human being.

But Evan somehow convinced me to stay out of the city. We had a long drive back to Vermont after the race and I knew that we’d make it a lot easier on ourselves if we stuck to the suburbs. So instead of starting off at Mile 20 like I’ve done for the past few years now, we camped out in Natick Center (mile 10), excited to cheer for runners in the first half of the race.

It’s crazy to look at the pictures now. To see the images of Evan and me and all the other spectators soaking up the Boston Magic, cheering for strangers and loved ones alike. I had planned to write about how awesome it was to be so close to greatness as the elites sped by, how great it was to cheer for a few friends who were running and then track them to fast finishes, and how disappointed I was that I didn’t get to see everyone — somehow skipping over the faces of friends in an endless sea of runners.

Women leaders, mile 10

The chase pack led by Rita Jeptoo, the eventual winner of the women’s race (with Felix just behind)

The winner – Lelisa Desisa in the front in blue. Amazingly, Jason Hartmann (first US runner and 4th overall) is well off the pack at this point. You can see him in the distance in a red singlet

All that seems silly now. In the face of such senseless tragedy, it’s hard to find the words. I don’t know how to adequately express my reaction to the horror…the complete violation…that occurred yesterday afternoon. How could someone attack a marathon? How could anyone in this world take an event that celebrates the triumph of the human spirit and shatter all that to pieces?

I was actually back home by the time we found out what had happened. I wasn’t feeling well so we decided to head out a little earlier than planned. I drove all the way home reveling in the excitement of the day, until I got a frantic phone call from my youngest sister (who is on a military base all the way out in Missouri) asking if we were okay. When she first told me about the bombing, I didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that something so awful would happen right in Boston, my favorite city on my favorite day of the year. It was too horrifying to process.

We spent the rest of the afternoon glued to the news and checking in with friends who were in Boston or running the race. So many people called/texted/tweeted me to check in to see if I was okay. I was overwhelmed — thankful that so many were thinking of us, but devastated that there would be many families whose frantic calls to loved ones would go unanswered, or would be returned with tragic news. It’s almost too much to bear. Even now I feel sick. Every report that comes out gives a higher number of individuals killed or injured. Tragic, life altering, war zone-like injuries. I can’t fully wrap my head around the devastation. And like so many, I can’t make any sense of it.

It seems like we are hit with tragedy after tragedy lately. Each one devastating in its own right. Each one claiming the lives of innocent people and altering our nation forever. Sometimes it seems like there’s no safe place anymore. No love and hope in the world to count on.

It’s almost impossible in the face of so much loss, but I keep trying to focus on the positives. Of the way so many runners and first responders rushed into the chaos instead of away. Of how many locals opened up their homes and hotel rooms to stranded runners — complete strangers in need of a place to stay. How people all over the world took to social media to share stories of hope, or pledge to unite with Boston by wearing Boston Marathon race shirts or colors on Tuesday. Small acts. But when a situation leaves you feeling helpless and devastated, those small acts are sometimes all you can do.

This morning I looked through some of the pictures we took at the race yesterday. Pictures that captured complete strangers undertaking a huge physical and mental feat and all those people that came to support them. At first these images just made the tragedy all the more real. I look at the faces and wonder what happened to each of the individuals I saw running by; to those families that were cheering next to me. I wonder if they are okay, if they made it out unscathed. And I want to cry when I look at the joy on some of the faces — because yesterday should have been joyous. It should have been a celebration of months (or years) of hard work and training, of realizing a dream. One where the only blood, sweat and tears should have come from a runner using every ounce of strength they have to finish 26.2 grueling miles, not caused by a cowardly bomber.

But in a way, these pictures taken a few hours before tragedy struck also capture the amazing community that running creates. They show the triumph of the human spirit. They remind me that no matter what happens, we will continue to bond together. And we will continue to run. For ourselves, for our community, for those whose lives were lost or altered on April 15th and all those tragic days before that. Because when faced with such unspeakable tragedy, it’s the only thing we know to do. The only response that makes any sense.

The mother and child shown crossing the finish line during the blast (that were mistakenly identified as the Hoyts by many). Not only is this women’s strength incredible, but I love the runner next to her cheering her on.

A spectator on his knees giving high fives while a sea of runners pushes on around him

I don’t really have a point to this post. Only that after debating whether or not to write anything at all, I realized that I had to say something. Even if what I’ve written doesn’t begin to do justice to the hurt and devastation.

So I’ll leave you with these — articles written by those who are much more eloquent than I, but (like the rest of us) are doing their best to process the horror of yesterday afternoon, and to find a way to keep pushing forward.

Ask Lauren Fleshman – Bombing in Boston

Lauren’s account of the events from the Fairmont Copley Hotel, where the elite athletes were staying after the race.

The New Yorker – The Meaning of the Boston Marathon

“…Or perhaps it was someone who saw a reflection of the human spirit and decided just to try to shatter it.”

Runner’s World – Boston Bombings: A Loss of Innocence

Even without that special purpose, marathon running is a sport of goodwill. It’s the only sport in the world where if a competitor falls, the others around will pick him or her up. It’s the only sport in the world open to absolutely everyone, regardless of gender, age, ethnicity or any other division you can think of. It’s the only occasion when thousands of people assemble, often in a major city, for a reason that is totally peaceful, healthy and well-meaning. It’s the only sport in the world where no one ever boos anybody.

And finally, a post that has been making its way around the internet, but is worth sharing again here.

The Washington Post – ‘If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon’

[emphasis added]

The finish line at a marathon is a small marvel of fellowship. Everyone is there to celebrate how much stronger the runners are than they ever thought they could be. Total strangers line up alongside the route to yell encouragement. Bands play. Some hand out cups of water, Gatorade, even beer. Others dress up in costumes to make the runners smile. The fact that other people can run this far makes us believe we can run that far. It’s a happy thought. It makes us all feel a little bit stronger.

Today, the final line of the Boston Marathon is a crime scene. It’s a testament to how much more evil human beings can be than we can imagine.

…If you are losing faith in human nature today, watch what happens in the aftermath of an attack on the Boston Marathon. The flood of donations crashed the Red Cross’s Web site. The organization tweeted that its blood supplies are already full. People are lining up outside of Tufts Medical Center to try and help. Runners are already vowing to be at marathons in the coming weeks and months. This won’t be the last time the squeakers run Boston. This won’t be the last time we gather at the finish line to marvel how much more we can take than anyone ever thought possible.

Boston — I love you. And I grieve for you today.

Yesterday I ran my first 20-miler of this training cycle. No matter how many times I’ve covered the distance, 20 miles always feels really far. Seriously – what is it about the 20 mile distance that makes it feel so much longer than a run of say, 18 miles? I ran 18 a few weeks ago and felt great. Ran 20 yesterday and was wiped out for the rest of the day. Exhausted, sick (well that may have been more to do with my choice of fuel than anything else…more on that in a minute), and unmotivated to do much else but lie on the couch. Funny how 2 measly little miles can make a world of difference.

Anyway…anyone who has ever run 20 miles knows that you don’t just go out and do it. Well, most of us non-elite recreational runners don’t. There’s the build up, the preparation, and then (typically) the roller coaster of emotions to keep you company for the 3ish hours of running. Running 20 miles is a process, a journey.

So, for your enjoyment here’s a glimpse inside the mind of someone who approaches these super long runs with a bit of trepidation.

Reader Warning: Proceed with caution. The following litany of crazy is real. Yes, all these things were really going through my mind yesterday. And yes, I talk to myself during runs. Doesn’t everyone?

Scene: Sunday morning. 7 am. Up, making coffee and toast, obsessively checking the weather.

Why is it only 26 degrees out there? What happened to the beautiful spring weather we had at the end of the week?

Ugh that wind sounds awful. And it’s raining. I think I have a stomachache. Oh no…I’m feeling sick. How am I going to get through 3 hours of running feeling like this? My legs are too tired. And it’s cold. And windy. Maybe I should wait until Monday…

My slight mental exaggeration of the conditions outside as I procrastinated the start of my 20 mile run

3 hours later… (10:00ish am). FINALLY ready to go. Head out in a direction I rarely run to mix it up a little bit.

Yikes! It’s colder out here than I thought. Cold rain, cold wind…maybe shorts wasn’t the best option?

Okay, calm down and shut up. Just run one mile at a time. You can loop back by the house to change in a few miles if you have to.

Woohooo! Never mind. This whole “start downhill” thing is awesome. I’m flying! I love running! Why don’t I run this way more often??

One minute later, a truck comes careening around the corner forcing me to jump into a ditch. Oh yeah, that’s why….

Mile 1: 7:48

Oops. So much for the whole start slow strategy. But this just feels sooo good!

Miles 2 – 4 all clock in under 8:00/mile.

Oh! I’m already at the bridge (my planned turnaround point)! Those 4 miles flew by! I love running so much! Okay – let’s keep going. Just run to the center of the next town and then you can turn around.

Miles 5 – 7. Still holding a sub-8 pace without much effort.

Yikes that wind is really bad. At least I’ll have a tailwind coming back, right? Maybe all the wind will blow some of these clouds away. It’ll be nice to see the sun…

Oh a hill! Where did that come from? Wow…look at this view. I don’t care about the traffic, this run is amazing!  I should’ve just planned to run out this way the whole time. Is it too late to call Evan and ask him to pick me up 20 miles from home? I don’t think I want to turn around.

I’M SO HAPPY!! RUNNING IS MY FAVORITE!

(Source - side note: you should probably click that link. Gold mine of happy cat and dog pictures)

Get to the center of town, resign myself to heading back in the other direction. Pace immediately drops.

Ummm…did I really run down all these hills? No wonder I was feeling so good on the way out. I swear the road was flat just a few minutes ago…

WTH is up with this wind?! Why isn’t it at my back? I guess I should take some sort of fuel, maybe that’ll help me feel better.

Pull out the Margarita flavored Clif Shot Bloks that I stuffed in my pack that morning after a frantic search for Gu came up short (note to self: be better prepared next time!).

Nastiness in chewable form

Ugh. These things are the worst! How do people chew and run at the same time?! My teeth. Everything is stuck together. OMG I might gag. This flavor. Why did I think I’d like the taste of margaritas while running?!?!  Oh this is so so gross. Okay, fine, I’ll choke down one more and then these things are going away. (I am clearly not overdramatic or anything…)

Seriously, why do these things exist? They need to invent some sort of fuel that just dissolves on your tongue. Like a breath strip! Oh I’m totally going to invent that! I’m going to be the hero of runners everywhere. And will surely make millions. Enough with this chewing while running crap. It takes too much energy.

Hmmm…I guess that’s sort of why they invented Gatorade. No chewing, gives you calories and electrolytes. But Gatorade is nasty. Who wants to run with that crap? Nope, I’m getting to work on this Fuel Strip idea as soon as I get home!

Oh I love this song! Florida Georgia Line + Nelly should be so wrong, but it’s ohso right.

Finally back at the bridge. 10 miles in 1:18…I’ve slowed down, but still keeping a decent pace, all things considered.

Oh my gosh, the sun! I can’t believe it. Rain jacket off, arm warmers pushed down. This is the best and most wonderful day for running. Look at that river. And those mountains! Oh I just love Vermont.

Not really my view from Saturday. But a perfect representation of why I #lovermont

2 miles later…

I’m hungry. Shouldn’t I be back at the house by now? Maybe I should choke down another one of those awful Shot Bloks. Ugh. Or maybe I should just practice without the extra fuel. You know, to run with depleted glycogen stores or something…

NO. That’s stupid. I’m hungry and I’m tired and this wind is pissing me off. Why hasn’t it been at my back this whole time? Am I going crazy??

It was around this time that I started fantasizing about having lunch at my favorite local cafe

Choke down another Shot Blok.

Ugh. I never want to eat these things again. Barf.

Oh but what should I have for lunch when I get back? Crap, I’m hungry. I guess that’s what I get for starting the run around 10:00. How many miles do I have left to run?? {mild panic attack} Ahhh don’t think about that. Just make it back to the house. Focus on one section of this run at a time.

Finally! Back in town! Why did the way back feel soooo much longer than the way out? Oh but I love this view coming into town. It’s so beautiful here. I’m really going to miss it.

{Cue dramatic, emotional mental montage of all the good times we’ve had in this town. Complete with sappy music, of course.}

Hello house! Why did I think running by home during a 20 mile run was a good idea again?!

Throw windbreaker (should also throw arm warmers that have been pushed down to my wrists but feeling way too lazy to get them off).

Miles 15 – 17. Down a familiar stretch for the final miles.

WTH is up with this wind?! It’s getting worse! How have I only run 14 miles at this point? I feel like I’ve been running forever. All that stupid uphill. Now I remember why I don’t run that way…

Okay – focus. Just 3 miles. Past the farm that you wish you could buy and around the corner. You’ve done this run 1 million times. You can do it again. Don’t think about how far. Just think about getting through this next mile. And then you only have 2 more…until you turn around.

AHSLKDFHDSLKHF this wind! Doesn’t it ever stop gusting?? Why did I decide to run in this direction? Am I even moving forward? I want to cry. Or punch someone. I’m gonna punch Wind in its stupid face. Or maybe I’ll just lie down here on the side of the road. That would be nice… I wonder how long it would take for someone to find me.

I’m still hungry. Those stupid nasty Shot Bloks did nothing. I wonder if Evan is waiting for me to eat lunch. Just a few more miles until I can eat all the food! Gah I can’t wait to eat! And foam roll. My feet sure are hurting. So much pounding.

Finally – the turnaround point!! I see it. Maybe I could just turn around a little early. I mean, does 0.2 miles REALLY make that much of a difference?

I swear if I turn around and don’t feel the wind at my back I’m going to scream. I seriously want to murder somebody right now.

This is basically what I felt like. Obviously not an exaggeration at all.

Miles 18 – 20. Tailwind. FINALLY!

This is amazing!!! Downhill. Wind at my back. Oh! Macklemore. Can’t [nobody] Hold ME! Put this on repeat. It’s bringing me home.

Oh – look at that cyclist heading toward me. He’s clearly struggling against this wind. At least I know it wasn’t all in my head. This wind is no joke! Sucks to be you right now, buddy.

Look at that pace! You’re flying! Oh I love this tailwind. And this sun! And Vermont! Let’s see how fast you can finish this thing.

Okay – push up the final hill. Don’t let the pace drop now. You’re almost there. Just hang on….

7:11 final mile baby!! BOOFREAKINGYA! I love running!

And then I proceeded to sit on the back deck for a very very long time, until my hunger finally motivated me to get up and shower.

Long run conquered.

–

Unfortunately my post-run high was short-lived. I spent the rest of the day battling some major, not blog-worthy digestion issues. I’m blaming the margarita shot blocks (consider yourself warned!!). I’ll stick to Gu from here on out, thanks. Or, you know, the yet-to-be-invented Fuel Strip. It’s the wave of the future, I’m telling you.

Lately I’ve been doing most of my long runs on the same out and back section of road. Every weekend it’s the same. Head out along the road that I’ve come to know like the back of my hand, get to the turning point, and then head back the way I came.

Not the road…and clearly not a recent photo

I’ll be honest with you – it can get pretty monotonous. I know every stretch, every turn, exactly how far I have to go before I can head back toward home. The scenery is always the same and the hills are never changing. Sometimes the way out seems to drag on forever and I spend the entire run counting down the minutes until I can finally turn around.

I really make it sound so appealing, don’t I? I know what you’re all thinking — if I find it so monotonous, why the heck do I keep submitting myself to this form of torture?

Because the truth is that running along the same road week after week provides consistency. And for most of this training cycle, that consistency has been the only thing that gave me the confidence I needed to make it through long runs.

I don’t really know why, but confidence is something that I have really struggled with this time around. Whereas in the past, I sometimes failed to give certain runs the respect they deserved ["Oh, it's 'only' 15 miles. I don't need to worry about silly things like getting enough sleep, fueling, carrying water, or really think about the fact that I have to run for 2 hours without stopping!"], I now find myself with the complete opposite problem. Every single long run just seems so intimidating. I sit there in the morning stressing about the distance. Psyching myself out before I even take one step.

This all culminated before my recent 18-miler. I was so freaked out about the run that I kept putting it off…and almost backed out of doing it altogether. This was not your typical pre-long run anxiety — you know that mix of excitement and nerves that comes from not quite knowing how your body is going to feel that day. A feeling that boosts your adrenaline and can actually help propel you through the long run, because ultimately you’re just excited about the challenge and can’t wait to see how it’ll go.

I’m embarrassed to admit that this fear was quite literally crippling. That one run seemed like such an insurmountable challenge that I was ready to give up on VCM right then and there. Forget spring marathons…forget marathon training at all. I would focus on shorter races. Or maybe I would just retire from racing. Clearly I’m not cut out for it.

Believe me, I realize how silly and over-dramatic this all sounds. Typing it out now only makes it seem more ridiculous. But in the moment, I just couldn’t get out of my own head. I somehow forgot about one very important detail: this whole running thing is not my career. It’s not even a side job. It’s merely a hobby that I enjoy…and one at which I sometimes pretend to be mildly talented.

So after a few days (no, seriously…days) of freaking out about this run — a run that no one was forcing me to do or even cared if I completed — I finally was able to talk myself down from the ledge. By telling myself of two things:

1.) All you need to do is run ONE MILE at a time. That’s it. Get out the door. Put one foot in front of the other and run. If you only make it 5 or 10 or 15 miles, who cares. Just run one mile. And when you complete that one, run another. You don’t know how you’re going to do until you try.

2.) You finished a run along this same road last week. You did it before and you can do it again. All you have to do is run one more mile out…and then you can turn around. What’s one mile? Nothing.

These two tiny assurances completely turned the run around for me. As I mentioned in my last post, that 18 miles ended up being the best run I’ve had in a long time. And by far the best long run of this current training cycle. It’s amazing what happens when you stop being a crazy mental-case runner and start cutting yourself a little slack. Who would’ve thought…

I can’t say that the self-doubt has completely gone away. It’s still work to get my head straight — to keep my confidence up. But now, when I feel myself getting nervous about a run or a workout, I try to take a step back and remind myself that it’s just running. All I can do is go out and give it my best shot. And instead of focusing on what I can’t do or paces that I’m not hitting, I repeat two simple lines over and over again to get me through a particularly difficult or intimidating stretch.

I AM STRONG.

I AM ABLE.

Six words of reassurance. Six words that silence the doubt. Six words that are helping me keep my head straight…most of the time, anyway.

A brain dump update. Because life lately has been filled with more ‘living’ than blogging.

And life lately…

Has been changing. Maybe not as quickly (or as much!) as I would like, but it’s happening. And that’s a good thing. I love the feeling of forward progress. Of taking concrete steps toward a goal. This winter I felt a little like I was stuck in limbo. It’s nice to be walking forward again. I’m sure it helps that I can finally feel the season changing around me (despite the current sub-freezing temperatures and high winds).

Celebrating spring…and birthdays!

Evan and I are moving at the end of this month. We aren’t going far, but I’m anticipating the move with that strange mix of dread and excitement that happens when you have a lot of unpleasant tasks to complete before you get to a really exciting outcome. I love the tiny touristy town in Southern Vermont that we’ve called home for the past year. It’s the town that inspired our move north, the town where we were married, where we had (have) our first house together…where we fuel our addiction to cheddar cheese and McNeill’s beer. The village is quiet and quaint and truly everything you would picture a Vermont postcard to be. With white houses, covered bridges, a stately inn, a post office that also serves as the town hall right in the center, and a handful of residents that know everything about everybody else. It’s been a fun retreat, but we’re ready for a change.

And the unfortunate truth about it all is this: no place on this earth is as perfect as the pictures make it seem. When you live in a teeny tiny picturesque place for awhile, some of the magic starts to wear off. And you start discovering layers and politics that you wish you never knew. This place will forever be one of my favorites on this earth…but some of the shine has worn off (if that makes sense). Which is totally fine and expected, but I’m ready to move to a community with just a few more people.

I won’t be leaving this town behind completely though, because Girls on the Run is starting this week! We’re a little late to start in Southern VT, but you can blame all the snow for that. I’ve been wanting to get involved in the program for a long time, and started the process of becoming a coach as soon as we moved to Vermont last summer. This will be my first year coaching and I really can’t wait. It’s going to be a fun couple of months.

In other running news…

Training finally feels like it’s coming together. I’m not at the downhill section yet, but I’d like to think that I’m getting closer and closer to the top of that hill. I finally came to the obvious and important realization that the biggest thing holding me back this training cycle was my mental game…not my lack of physical strength. This is not rocket science or a new discovery, but it’s really a game changer when you finally accept it. More about that later though.

That being said, it’s not always a steady climb. Last week I had the best long run of this training cycle – 18 strong and hilly miles that I was able to finish fast and with energy left in the tank. The kind of long run that gets you excited about marathon training and does wonders for your confidence.

This was sandwiched in between two of the best workouts I’ve had in a long time – a tempo run where I felt like I could run faster and go forever, and a fast hill workout that gave me the type of runner’s high usually only reserved for a goal race.

But then, because running isn’t always easy (and sometimes the universe is cruel), I was hit by a nasty cold that just about knocked me out at the end of last week. This happens fairly often around the time the seasons change, but that doesn’t make it any easier to handle. I know the standard advice is to run when the sickness is above the neck and rest when it’s below but seriously — it’s hard to run long when you can’t breathe. So between that and a packed Easter weekend with my visiting parents, I turned this last week into a cutback week. The goal was to run 14 – 15 easy miles. 10.6 miles of struggle later, I deemed it a “super cutback” and called it a day. Sure, I maybe could have pushed through for a few more miles (or at least another 0.4 to make it an even 11), but to what end?  Although my legs felt okay, everything else just felt really off and I spent the entire run counting down the miles until it was over. Sometimes you gotta know when to fold them. This weekend I’ve got 20 miles on the schedule — time to look ahead and focus on that.

Even with this little setback, I find myself excited to really dig in to these next few weeks of training. That’s how I know that things have really turned around. I’ve got a few hard weeks coming up, including my first race of 2013 (finally!!) sandwiched in between two 20-milers. It’ll be tough, but I find myself eager to tackle it (instead of being swallowed by fear and dread). I’m ready to push my body. I’m ready to feel the fatigue of heavy marathon training. And most of all, I’m ready to race again. I can’t wait to feel the pain (and that is how you know that running has made you insane…)

I’ll be running the Half Marathon Unplugged on April 13th – the same weekend many of you will be heading to Boston. It’s a relatively small race and promises to be both scenic and flat. While I’m not really expecting to be PR-ready, I am excited to put my training to the test. I wanna make it hurt.

Plus, you really can’t beat a $30 entry fee for a half marathon.

8 weeks until VCM. Let’s do this.

Like many runners, I have a love/hate relationship with hills — meaning I love when a nice gradual downhill helps push me along to a fast pace…and hate when those climbs slow me down and leave my chest heaving.

When I moved to Vermont and realized that hills were going to become a part of my everyday running reality whether I liked it or not, I kind of learned to embrace them. I’ll even go so far as to say that after awhile I grew to prefer rolling runs to flat land. Case in point, during last August’s Hood to Coast relay, my least favorite (and slowest!) leg was also my flattest.

But then the holidays happened and this endless winter descended upon us and my love for hills slowly faded away. I don’t really know why or how it happened, but somewhere along the way I completely lost my hill running motivation. It’s impossible to avoid all hills around here (unless you run inside every day), but I quickly figured out how to steer clear of the worst ones. All winter long I finagled my routes — sticking with the slow, gradual climbs and the nice flat treadmill. When you live in a town with approximately 4 roads and only one of them feels flat for any significant stretch of time, running gets boring pretty darn fast.

Not only did my runs grow stale and boring, but my “hill terrors” haven’t exactly been helping my training. Because there’s also a tiny little problem of that marathon I signed up to run in May. It’s not flat. 

So last week, after giving myself approximately 2,000,000 pep talks, I finally got pumped up enough to tackle one of the hilliest out-and-back routes around. A route that starts off with a steep climb and continues going up for over a mile. A route that doesn’t have a single stretch of completely flat road but is instead a constant roller coaster of ups and downs. A route that I used to be strong enough to do tempo runs on last fall but I’ve been avoiding like the plague ever since 2013 began.

I strapped on my Garmin to record the data but told myself that I wasn’t allowed to even peek at my splits until the turn around point (which just so happens to be at the base of a very long climb). Then I turned on my most motivational playlist, took a deep breath…and off I went.

I’m not going to lie — it sucked. That first climb, the one that I have to get myself all psyched up to even attempt, was worse than I remembered. And it wasn’t like it got easier after that. Every single incline seemed to have grown steeper and longer in my absence…while the declines were too few and far between. I felt like I was crawling. I couldn’t even pick up much speed on the downhill sections. My legs were so tired that even convincing them to increase their turnover on the declines seemed like too much effort.

It may not look like much according to this chart, but I swear they feel harder in person…

Hills in elevation chart are larger than they appear

Turns out that when you avoid all major hills for over 3 months, you lose a whole lot of your hill-running fitness. Pretty deep and insightful observation, right?

But even though the run left me wondering how I ever managed to get in quality workouts over this course just a few months ago, it wasn’t all bad. Because there’s a moment on this particular run when you reach the top of the very last climb and the world opens up. You see rolling farmland on your right and mountains ahead and you know that it is quite literally all downhill from here. A moment when every single climb you tackled becomes worth it — for the view, for the fact that you get to cruise down to the finish over a mile away, for the pride you feel knowing that you survived the roller coaster. It was at that moment when I finally remembered why I loved that running route so very much. And where I resolved to start embracing the hilly runs again.

To keep good on my promise, I headed out on Saturday to tackle another hill that I’ve been working hard to avoid. Remember how I said this run was my favorite route for runs that are under 12 miles? Well, that’s because around mile 6 the road takes a very steep, long drop down for almost 2 miles — which means if I head out that way, I need to turn around and run back up the awful thing. That long, winding climb is the very definition of “soul crushing.” The only thing I can do when I’m running up it is focus on getting through one turn at a time, promising myself that I’ll walk once I make it through that particular section. I haven’t actually walked yet (though my pace may suggest otherwise!), but I’m still awaiting the day when I can run up that hill like it’s nothing. I’m not really expecting that day to ever come…

No the road doesn’t end there. It just drops sharply downward.

But I am going to keep climbing. This post serves as my promise (or my source of public shaming if I don’t follow through). For the rest of my training, I’m going to be tackling these hills at least once a week (probably more). Hills make you stronger, they make you faster, and they give you confidence. If I can tackle these hills in training then surely I can tackle the hills on race day. And I will be a better runner for it.

The snow is melting, the rivers are thawing, and puddles of mud are forming everywhere I look.

Spring is finally coming.

Or at least that’s what they tell me. The current temperature and winter storm warming in Vermont sort of suggests otherwise…

But I’ve got to believe that change is in the air. And I am slowly making my way out of the internet hibernation I’ve been hiding in these past couple of weeks. When I posted about going to Florida, I didn’t actually mean for that to signify that I was leaving the entire internets behind for awhile. But truthfully, sometimes a break from it all feels really good. The best thing about having a blog that’s only a hobby is that there’s never any real pressure to post. So I just kept waiting until I actually had the urge to write something. Which just so happens to be today (aren’t you all lucky?)

Whenever there’s been any sort of significant break, it feels kind of weird to jump right back in with some post about whatever running rambles are in my head at the moment. So instead, here’s a brief update about what I’ve been up to. You know, all those things that only my family and I actually care about, but I take time to blog about anyway…

I spent a week getting a glimpse at life as a stay-at-home Mom. Parts of it were incredibly fun, but other parts…not so much (you know, like dealing with home renovation fiascoes in my sister’s new house for two days and being stuck at home while things are getting installed). And it gave me an even greater respect for mothers who somehow manage to work out regularly on top of getting a bunch of real tasks accomplished in one day. It’s amazing how fast a day can pass with a baby and you’ve got nothing to show for it.

One of the best parts about my time with my niece? A relaxing 10.5 mile run we took together. Well…I did the running while she took a good hard nap.

I love my sister’s Bob stroller, but it’s not easy to run pushing another person…even a mini-one! (Yes, I realize this is not news to anyone.) I have never been more thankful to run along completely flat roads (the wind in FL, however, is a completely different story!). And despite how tough/awkward the run felt at times, I actually really loved the company. It was kind of fun knowing I had someone along for the ride.

We introduced Leah to the joy that is self-serve Frozen Yogurt. She loved it…clearly

I somehow managed to get tendinitis in my elbow…or, you know, that tendon that connects your tricep to your elbow. As a result of this super fun injury, I spent over a week with an arm so swollen that I couldn’t even bend it enough to brush my own teeth.

How does a runner managed to injure her arm? Well…I don’t really want to talk about it. Okay, fine. I was stupid and stubborn. My sister somehow persuaded me to join her for a CrossFit class and I have way too much pride to give up on a workout that I know is probably just a little too much for the girl who begrudgingly lifts only twice a week. So yeah, CrossFit’s no joke. And you should probably take some legit introductory courses first. My sister just completed an 8-week CrossFit challenge and is seriously in the best shape of her life. It’s impressive. But I think I’ll stick to running for now.

One more picture because she’s just so stinkin’ cute…

Not only does this kid recognize herself in the iPhone camera, but she also knows how to take selfies. At 6 months old. Babies amaze me.

Speaking of which…running lately has had its ups and downs. Do you ever have a week when your legs just feel flat and your paces seem off? And no matter what you do, every run just seems way more difficult than it should be? Well, that was me this last week. Slow running, failed speed workouts, and lots of frustration. I’m trying not to get discouraged and just chalk it up to an “off” week. At least we had a few days of warmer temperatures and awesome running weather thrown in there amongst the wind and cold. Today marks the start of a new week, which means a chance to start fresh.

On a related note, I’m no longer running for Saucony. It’s not something I really want to go into at the moment, but I feel like in the interest of full disclosure, I should let you all know. Ultimately, it’s a good thing. I love Saucony products (and stand by my claim that the Mirage3s are the greatest shoes ever created), but this does give me a little more freedom in what I talk about on HOtR. In all honesty there are a lot of great running companies out there doing some really cool things. I’ve been sort of silently watching this past year as small companies like Oiselle have taken the social media/female running world by storm, creating a community of athletes that really seem to support each other. It’s cool to see that kind of thing between companies and their runners.

But I will miss wearing this uniform…

Winter in Vermont has kicked my butt. Figuratively, literally, physically, emotionally…and other kind of “ly” you can think of. I’m from New England. I’m used to snow and cold and ice and wind. But what I’m not used to is all of those things plus dreariness and isolation. To say that this past winter has been harder than expected would be an understatement.

HOWEVER – I survived (or am surviving. It’s not really over yet). And although I’m generations away from ever being considered a true Vermonter, surviving a winter here earns me some points in my Vermont cred, right? Maybe?

Plus, despite the difficulty of winter time, I have loved every single chance we’ve had to go skiing. I feel really lucky that I’ve gotten to ski more this past winter than I have in my entire adult life combined. And I’ll freely admit that this has taken a toll on my marathon training. I’ve sacrificed runs and fresh legs for another day on the slopes. I know full well that I could’ve worked harder this winter and that I willingly chose not to. But honestly – I don’t regret it in the least. It’s just where I am in life, I guess. Sometimes you want to put everything else on the sidelines for the sake of training and the pursuit of a goal. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. But other times, for whatever reason, it’s just not worth it. Skiing has really been the only thing that has gotten me through the cold dreary months up here. And the only thing I’ll miss once all the snow finally melts.

That being said, the season is coming to a close. And race season has officially begun. Hearing about everyone’s early spring races, watching runners I know and the women I coach improve by leaps and bounds, seeing the hard work so many have put in over these past few months finally pay off — well, that’s enough to give me the racing bug again. The itch to race is stronger than it’s been all year. And I hope to find myself on a starting line in the (very) near future.

I haven’t quite been myself lately. Maybe you can tell from my posts (or lack thereof), maybe not. But truth be told, these past few weeks have been tough ones personally. It’s nothing major or life-altering…just a few personal and health issues that have been weighing me down.

It makes me feel a little bit like a broken record, and I hate it. These issues alone wouldn’t even be so bad, but unfortunately they’ve been exacerbated by a flare up of foot pain that is eerily similar to the injury that forced me to skip Hyannis last year. The one that signified the beginning of the end of my spring marathon training….only in the opposite foot. I’ve been doing whatever I can to avoid a repeat of last year’s training disaster, which means the past two weeks of running have been a wash. Running has always been my most effective stress reliever. So when I’m not running and under a lot of stress, well…let’s just say you should consider yourself lucky that you’re not married to me.

Anyway all of this crap swirling around has made me more hesitant to get on the internet. I’m a big advocate of not blogging when you have nothing to say, and so I’ve stepped back a bit. Especially because I just don’t feel comfortable blogging about any of this stuff. Not yet, anyway. It’s kind of funny, I guess — when it comes to my running life, I’ll tell you anything. I have no problem talking about the awful runs. Runs I cry through or workouts I can’t complete. And I certainly don’t hesitate admitting when certain embarrassing things happen during races. But when it comes to life outside of all that? Well — there’s a reason I’m a running blogger and not a lifestyle one.

When I wrote my post about failing better last month, I never truly expected that I would end up going back to it so much. Repeating that phrase over and over like my new mantra. Didn’t expect that my promise to change how I react to situations outside of my control would be so hard to keep. That I would need to remind myself again and again that what matters most is how I react to my circumstances. And whether I allow setbacks and challenges to destroy me…or I use them to make me stronger. I’m not proud to admit that I’ve gone through a period over the past couple of weeks when I crumpled in the face of the hurdles instead of leaping over them.

My point in all of this vague rambling (and I promise, I do have a point) is to say that things finally seem to be on the upswing. Or, at least, my attitude toward them is. One can only have a pity party for so long, you know. And then you start to annoy even yourself.

So instead of being frustrated and stressed that I essentially missed two important weeks of training for Vermont City, I’m choosing to start fresh. Wipe the slate clean. Look forward instead of back. I’m not going to let this setback derail my entire spring. I don’t love the fact that I missed quality runs and will have to adjust my training plan. It’s not ideal that I’m behind in my build up of mileage and long runs. But I can’t change any of that now. The only thing I can do is keep pressing forward with the time that I do have. Keep working harder to make each workout and run count. And start taking better care of my body — allowing myself time to recover, eating right, rolling, icing, and all that other annoying but oh-so necessary prevention stuff that can so easily fall by the wayside.

And to help with this fresh start, I’m getting away. I am very lucky to have had a (very!) last minute, spontaneous opportunity to travel to Florida. After only 15 minutes of searching and securing some ridiculously cheap flights, I booked the trip. I’m trading snowy cold Vermont for palm trees and 80 degrees. And I’m spending the week with the newest (and by far the cutest!) member of #teamwatermelon.

Rocking her new green Saucony Jazz sneakers – an essential in every baby’s wardrobe (and yeah, I wanted her to match her most favorite* aunt!) *I am currently awaiting confirmation that I am, indeed her favorite. But I’m sure her other 4 aunts won’t mind me claiming the title…

They might be just a little big on her at the moment….

I don’t think it’s possible to stay stressed in the presence of this cutie.

Plus, I’m counting on my new teammate to keep me motivated as I attempt to dive back into hard training. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the pain in my foot stays away for good.

My sister and her husband recently bought their first house and are already knee deep in home renovation projects. She has warned me of the likelihood that I’ll be put to work this week, but I’m strangely excited about this. I can’t think of anything more therapeutic than warm air, sunshine, baby time, and a little home renovation.

Plus, despite all the benefits of winter running, I’m more than a little excited to run in shorts and a tank top again. Maybe by the time I come back, all the snow will be melted and spring will have returned to the North. Yeah, I know, wishful thinking. But at least we’ll be one week closer.