Run, Brenda, Run!

Racing in the city of lights

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Sat, 23 Apr 2011 16:08:00 +0000

Now that my body is back on Boston time, I'm over this silly head/chest cold I picked up in Paris, and done being the Boston Marathon/Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge Superfan, it's time to pick up my life where I left off and finally blog.

Two weeks ago right now I was in Paris, eating my pre-race pasta dinner. Noah and I booked our travel through Marathon Tours & Travel, and with it came not only a 3.5 hour bus tour of the city, but also a pasta party. The package deal wasn't cheap, but you really can't buy peace of mind that you're guaranteed a fat bowl of pasta with bolognese sauce in a foreign city the night before a marathon.

The trip was magical. Our hotel was right by the Arc du triomphe, the weather was beautiful and sunny, we saw a few sights, we ate a lot of good food, we ran together along the Seine at night, and there was plenty of down-time. A lot of people seemed shocked that I went all the way to Paris for only a few days, but honestly I don't have any regrets. I wished we could have stayed another day, but don't you always wish for that on your last day of a wonderful vacation?

The race? Well, that was magical too.

The morning started off a little bumpy. I had the worst pre-race jitters I think I've ever had, and ended up sobbing on Noah right before we headed to the start. "We're in a foreign city! I've never run the course! It's going to be hot today! What if I bonk? What if I overheat? What if I have to poop?!?!" But by the time we met my friend Greg (who hopped the pond just to watch me race!) and I found my corral, jitters turned into excitement. I was standing on the Champs Elysees with my back to the Arc du Triomphe, about to run a marathon through Paris. Holy crap.

The gun went off and we quickly got moving. I was surprised at how much room I had in this notoriously crowded race, and for the first 5K I was able to hold a steady and comfortable pace. I was looking at the gorgeous architecture around me and suddenly, my finish time didn't even matter. It was an experience of a lifetime and I was going to enjoy it-- but I still wanted to properly represent my country, and my team (my debut in a Boston Tri Team top!), and myself by rocking the race and looking good while doing it.

Shortly after 5K the street narrowed and the race literally came to a stand-still. I had to jam on the brakes and take a few shuffling steps before it picked up again. "Oh, THIS is the crowded race I heard so much about...," I thought to myself. The next bit of the race was just as narrow and crowded, but the "uphills" I saw on the elevation map were more like false flats, so I was pleased to still be cruising. My coach told me I should always be having mental check-ins and asking myself how I feel. In my head I heard him asking "How do you feel?" Then in my head I'd answer him back "I feel freaking awesome!!!"

The next ten miles or so were more of the same. Some roads were so narrow and had cars parked on both sides of the road that I was hopping on the sidewalk and tripping over people. Others opened up and I had room to move freely. At this point my biggest complaint was the men squeezing by me and sweating on me. And they STUNK. Do European men shower? Or use deoderant? Gross. And on the "uphills" people were slowing down but I still felt great, so I had to squeeze by people myself to keep pace.

There was hardly a cloud in the sky and they were calling for 73 as a high that day, so around the half mark it started to get toasty and I was feeling it. Sun is like my running kryptonite. The water stops were 5K apart, which for me personally is too far on such a warm day, but luckily I wore my fuel belt to avoid the crowded water stops, so I could drink to thirst as often as I needed.

Around mile 15 or 16 we were on the river and it was really narrow and crowded but GORGEOUS. In the distance was every Paris landmark imaginable, framed by the boats and water and trees. There was also a nice breeze off the water which helped me in the heat of the day. The spectators were incredible and I kept chugging along, but then around 17 or so we went through a tunnel. Like a legit TUNNEL. I lost Garmin reception and it was shaded, but stuffy in there. In the moment, it seemed endless, and I wanted nothing more than to get out. We emerged to the sweet relief of a breeze off the river.

By now I was out of Gu Brew and relying on the water stops. I was just glad they handed out bottles of water, so I could drink half then pour the rest over me. They also had "refreshment stops" with big buckets of water that the volunteers were splashing on the runners, and the occasional garden hose. At this point it was getting a little scary how much relief I felt when I'd drink or go through a hose. From feeling a little tired and woozy and hot, to instantly feeling my pace return. I have a feeling that if I hadn't worn my fuel belt for the earlier part of the race I would have ended up in the med tent.

My plan was to run the first 20 conservatively, then hammer the last 6, and when I got to 20 I was ready to race, despite the heat and crowds. Just like he predicted, I was passing a ton of people and it felt GOOD :) Noah said that according to the text messages at checkpoints, I passed some 3,000 people in the last 10K. I was smiling, slapping hands with little kids, and picking runners off one by one. Definitely a marathon first for me. But I think this is where the race started to get ugly, though, as I underestimated just how far 6 miles was and went a little too hard.

For the first three I was on fire. The Rocky theme song came on my iPod and I had to resist the urge to fist pump in the air as I ran. I may or may not have listened to it on repeat twice... But a little after 23 the pacing and the heat and everything just got to me, and I felt the fatigue that I shouldn't have had until 25.

At this point I was still ahead of the 3:45 pace group. We had been leapfrogging each other the whole race, as each of us stopped for water or hit a crowd or dialed it back. Around 24 they came up on me, though, and I knew I had to fight to stay with them. I put my head down, focused on their feet, and decided to (as Coach Jorge instructed me to) "look painland in the face and make it my bitch." But I just couldn't hang on. They slowly widened the gap between us and completely dropped me. It was the only disappointment of my race. I REALLY wanted to finish with (or ahead of) them. But I hung on and kept pushing for the best finish I could have.

My watch beeped for 26 and without even looking around I made my final push. A third of a mile later, I passed the actual mile 26 marker and cursed silently in my head. My "point two" push was actually a half mile push. Crap.

Finally the finish was in sight and although every inch of my body was screaming I managed a smile for the cameras and to finish with my arms over my head. 3:48:32. I finally went sub 3:50!

I wobbled my way through the finish chute, desperate for fluids, and finally reached the water and powerade. I gulped down both and continued my post-race shuffle until I finally found Noah and Greg. Noah was waiting for me with a huge bouquet of lilies and a little bottle of champagne - which I also gulped down. We popped open the bottle right there in the street and the celebration began.

It was the race of a lifetime, despite the challenges, and I've never been so happy and proud of myself.

Bonkers

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 23 Feb 2011 17:21:00 +0000

bon·kers adj \ˈbäŋ-kərz, ˈbȯŋ-\
: crazy, mad

At the start of the word bonkers, though, is the word BONK. Which is what this blog post is about. An epic bonk that happened about 10 miles into my 17-miler on Sunday.

To say that Sunday was windy would be like saying that the Sahara is warm. Or that Lady Gaga is a little eccentric. But wind or no wind, I had 17 miles on my calendar, so I had to suck it up, bundle up, and go to it.

With two pairs of pants, two hats, a heavy shirt under a thermal running jacket, ski gloves, smartwool socks, and my ninja mask, I was prepared to brave the elements, and the first 7 or so miles were great. I was fighting tooth and nail against the wind, while slowly climbing my way out to Newton from Coolidge Corner, but I felt fresh and strong. And I must have repeated about 50 times in my head "this is going to be a hell of a tailwind when I turn around!" The power of positive thinking.

I defeated all the Newton Hills on the way out, got to the Firehouse, and when I went to take the left I was greeted by a sidewalk caked in ice as far as the eye could see, and a road too narrow for me to run in the street. So I turned around and decided to make up the distance in Brookline/Boston.

Up the first hill I went, cursing under my breath at how much I hate it. Far more than the others. I chugged along, cranked my music, and kept going. Hill #2. Not pleasant, but not tough. Done. Then I got to hill three and partway up I ran out of steam. I walked a little, cursed a little, then picked back up and ran. Yuck. Took another Gu and kept going. Then I hit heartbreak and told myself slow and steady would win the race. I got up the first half of it but as I started chugging up the second half I hit a wall. No gas left in the tank. I walked a little, then finally just sat on the curb. I drank some, I took off my hats, I breathed deeply and tried to pretend the other runners passing by didn't see what just happened. After a minute or two I pulled myself together and did the jog/walk thing all the way back to Brookline, and it was getting colder and windier with each step. The hills were pretty sheltered.

I think I might have over-heated a little once I was on the hills and out of the wind. I also think that after months of training on the river for a mostly flat marathon, doing an out-and-back on the Newton Hills was more than my body bargained for. Vic thinks I burned more calories than I realized because I was running into the wind, and probably needed to fuel more than I did. Noah pointed out that I was tired and feeling a little off when I left to start my run.

I know every runner has been through this at least once, so it's nothing to worry about. But with 6 weeks until Paris, I'm not feeling so confident. I hope to have a good race in Hyannis this weekend (half marathon) and build some of it back up.

Today's Run

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 18:34:00 +0000

Miles 1-2: Artfully and carefully dodging ankle-deep ice puddles, while trying not to fall on icy sidewalks
Miles 3-5: Half-assedly dodging ankle-deep ice puddles, attempting to maintain pace, catching little bits of puddle and cursing a little about them. Feet damp and cold.
Miles 6-7: Angy with the ankle-deep ice puddles; stomping through them while loudly cursing at them. Drenched.
Miles 8-11: Beat down by the ankle-deep ice puddles. Completely and totally soaked. Running through them without changing any expression on my face and loudly yelling "THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER"
Miles 12-15: Quietly whimpering at my soaked, cold, heavy feet. Admitting complete defeat to the ankle-deep ice puddles. Promising myself this will be my last spring marathon, and if I can just make it home, I'll tell Noah that we have to move.****

9 weeks from today.

****I am neither moving, nor quitting marathons

This Calls for a Blog Post

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 01:06:00 +0000

Yes, I've abandoned my blog these last few months. Truth be told, running/training/working out has become such a part of my life that it hasn't felt worthy of blogging. It became sort of mundane.

I'm roughly 9 weeks out from Paris (holy crap, really?) and amid the snowpocalypse that has been crippling the northeast and really putting a damper on my training, I recently made peace with the treadmill and found my runner's high, and I thought that was worth blogging about.

It all started last week when the sidewalks were crapped up with snow and I had hill repeats to do at marathon pace. I trudged to the gym and prepared to hate my life for the next 40 mins. But then something magical happened--I made the treadmill my bitch. I hammered up each simulated hill and enjoyed the strain. I reveled in my screaming muscles and sweat.

Then tonight I had a run test to do. It had been postponed two different times because of a nasty head/chest cold, and I was REALLY looking forward to doing it outside, but what's the point of running as hard as you can for 15 minutes when you don't have traction under your feet and you have to worry about black ice/crappy terrain slowing you down? So I reluctantly went to the gym and hopped on the treadmill, trying to convince my brain that I was the most hard core chick at the gym, and that I could outrun every other woman there. And then I was. And I did. And I enjoyed it.

I think I finally learned how to take the pain and suffering of a hard run and lock it away while I think about happier more awesome places. Tonight, I imagined setting a new marathon PR in Paris while all my friends cheered me on from the sidelines. I imagined being in the last 3 miles of Baystate, running aside Laurie, but at the pace I was running on the treadmill at that moment, instead of fighting for each step like I did at Baystate. I felt awesome and invincible, and the next thing I knew my 15 minutes was up and my test was done.

Now I know what you're all thinking: Treadmill paces are crap. And yes, I'm taking this all with a grain of salt. Maybe I wasn't actually running a sub-7-minute mile toward the end. It was probably more like a 7:15. But I worked HARD and it felt good and I actually enjoyed the artist formerly known as the dreadmill. And I can't wait until Paris!

Saying "oui" to a spring marathon

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 03 Nov 2010 12:43:00 +0000

The bad news: I didn't qualify for Boston at Baystate.
The good news: I'm going to run the Paris Marathon on April 10, instead

This allows me to keep almost the exact same training schedule I'm used to for Boston, but to also be local on Marathon Monday so I can cheer on my friends who ARE running. But more importantly, it allows me to enjoy April in Paris by doing a race that takes me by the Eiffel Tower and Arc du Triomphe, and finishes on the Champs Élysées.

Time to learn a few key French phrases like:
- Where's the toilet?
- More wine, please
- Pass the baguettes
- I finally broke 3:40

Time to start training!

3:51:36

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Sat, 23 Oct 2010 14:24:00 +0000

Yes, all you smart mathy readers are correct. That's not my BQ time. I had a tough race, I feel kind of robbed by my own body, I won't be running Boston this spring, and this week has kind of felt like the aftermath of a bad breakup.

Sunday after the race I was trying to be positive about it, look on the bright side, and have a lot of beer and burgers. Monday it was all I could do to hold back tears and stay off Facebook so I couldn't see everyone's status updates about registering for Boston. I also decided to take a year off from marathons, and stick to triathlons and half-marathons. Tuesday morning brought with it the news that Boston sold out in 8 hours and the realization that I might need to run faster than a 3:40 to register in 2012. More tears and Facebook avoidance. By the end of the week, though, I was reading every article I could get my hands on about the Boston sell-out, reading everyone's facebook statuses, verbalizing my disappointment, and chomping at the bit to find a marathon to run in Feb or March. The sooner the better. Kind of the running equivalent of trying to find a rebound guy.

But lets take a step back.

A week and a half before the race I got hit with a head cold. I couldn't get off the couch almost the entire long weekend. The week leading up to baystate I felt lightyears better, but still a little run down. Then, the day before the race I woke up with vertigo that lasted a good 4 hours. It was pretty scary and I'm still not sure what caused it, but by race morning I felt fine. I went through my usual race morning routine, nutrition, etc. and when I got to the Tsongas arena, I was feeling pretty confident.

I wandered down to the start, found my spot in the corral, spotted the 3:40 pacers not far ahead of me in said corral, and when the gun went off Michael Jackson was in my ears telling me to Beat It. The first mile felt perfect. I was eyeing the 3:40 sign and thinking "eye on the prize." By the second mile they were just far enough ahead that I lost them, but I wanted to run my own race and not go out too fast. I knew there'd be time to catch them later. Mile three I started to feel tired, though, like my body was having trouble warming up. I had kind of a sleepy groggy feel in my head that didn't get any better by mile 4, and I seriously considered dropping out - that's no way to cover another 22.2 miles. But I plugged on, and tried to tell myself it was mind over matter.

I finished the first loop and wasn't too far off my goal, and got a second wind. I was ready to attack. Then out of nowhere, mile 15 brought with it a DIRE and URGENT need for a bathroom, putting even my Cape Ann experience to shame. The next port-a-john wasn't until mile 16 and I really thought I might not make it. When I finally reached it, I lost a good minute and a half trying to remedy my situation.

Safely out of the bathroom, the journey to miles 17-20 were OK. I still didn't feel fresh, but I was chugging along and trying to dig deep. Noah biked up to me and asked if I wanted my friend Laurie to hop in and join me at 22, as she had so kindly offered to do. I nodded yes. Somewhere around 22 before I caught up with Laurie, the 3:50 pace group caught me and I tried to hang on, but I couldn't. By 23 and 24 it was a battle of sheer will to keep moving forward, and there were a couple of kicker rolling hills and a banked curve to navigate. I told Laurie all I wanted was a beer and a burger.

At Mile 25 you could hear the stadium but my legs didn't have the freshness to pick it up. My body was on auto-pilot, despite Laurie's efforts to motivate me. As I entered the ballpark, Laurie ducked into the crowds and the last .1 or so was along the warning track. I had to run over both the bullpen mounds, the last being about 20 feet from the finish line (that's totally a face-plant waiting to happen about 5 hours in), and I somehow managed to cross the finish line with both arms over my head and a huge grin on my face. Noah was waiting for me in the stands just past the finish, with his camera and a kiss for me. I was hobbly and tired, but proud of myself for my sticktoitiveness and ability to still pull off a 3:51 and change despite how I felt.

I do feel robbed, though. If I was capable of 3:51 under those circumstances, what could I have done if I was healthy? The weather was perfect and everyone I know who ran to qualify that day either reached or exceeded their goal. I'm the only one I know who didn't.

So there you have it. I'm still not sure what my next adventure will be -whether it's a year of halves and tris, or another marathon ASAP- but this one is done and now I'm thoroughly enjoying my off season.

PMS - Pre-Marathon Syndrome

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 10:47:00 +0000

My fancy little countdown widget says there are 30 days and some-odd hours until Baystate. My body and mind say "are we there yet?"

When I train for Boston each year, "the ides of march" get me every time. That month before the marathon I find myself exhausted, irritable, insatiably hungry, and feeling a little twingy in the legs. My Baystate training has been going so swimmingly that I had kind of though I got a pass on this syndrome, until yesterday. My day got off to a rocky start, I had a stressful day at work, and I got home in near tears because I couldn't find my subway pass. It's a SUBWAY PASS, people. Not some family heirloom or expensive item. Nonetheless, you would have thought I misplaced the Holy Grail, and I could see the wheels turning in Noah's head, trying to count weeks and figure out why I was behaving so strangely.

I'm almost there, though. I have a 15-miler this weekend, my 22-miler next weekend, then TAPER. Granted, taper brings out a whole new beast in me--the endorphin junkie who so desperately needs a fix--but I'm at a point where I'm so looking forward to race day, that I'm hoping taper won't kill me like it did before Boston. And I'm planning to bike and swim more in those two weeks to keep up the rush, rather than just resting on days that I'm not running or running really lightly.

The race is a month from tomorrow. It's almost go time!

The Longest 13.1 Miles Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 22:06:00 +0000

It just recently occurred to me that I have a 26.2 mile race in 5 weeks. How the heck did it get here so fast? I guess one of the perks to fall marathon training is that you're so busy enjoying summer that training is a nuisance, rather than your sole focus during miserable cold winter months.

All is well, though. I've been running consistently all summer and though I don't feel like I'm breaking any land speeds, I'm injury-free and pretty relaxed about this whole race. My plan is to show up on Oct. 17 and see what happens.

This past weekend was my first 20-miler, and I decided to sign up for a relay team at the Pumpkinman Triathlon half-ironman and do it as a "catered training run," as my friend Woody likes to joke about races. The plan was to run 7 miles while my biker was out on the course, then take the chip and do my 13.1 at long run pace. It worked out well because I tricked my brain/body into thinking I was only doing 13.1, but oh man was it the longest 13.1 I've ever done. Because it was actually 20.

Noah was doing the full race that day, so we were up at 4 as usual and checked in by 6. He took off with his wave and I waited to watch my swimmer start, along with the runner on another Boston Triathlon Team relay team. Then we had 3.5 hours to kill, so we cheered for the other athletes, played "name that tune" with the race announcer/DJ (I won really fuzzy socks for knowing that James Brown was the artist of one song, and then dancing like him. My mom would be so proud...), and I got in my 7 miles.

The day before the race I was out on a friend's boat where I ate and drank with reckless abandon, so let's be polite and say my stomach wasn't too happy with me. Oh heck, let's be crass - I pooped 4 times between arriving at the race and starting my relay. Luckily, the other relay runner hooked me up with some Immodium and I was good to go - or NOT go, rather (wokka wokka!).

Jay, my biker, cruised in at a respectable time, I grabbed the chip and was off running. It was pretty cool being in a relay with such awesome athletes because our swim and bike time put me near the front of the pack not too far behind the elites and faster age-groupers. It was a race view I've never had before, and one I'll probably never have again. Noah and a few other BTT folks passed me in the other direction (they were ahead of me), and it was fun and motivating getting to encourage each other and slap hands as we passed each time.

I was holding steady at my long run pace and about 7 miles in my stomach started to complain again from all the Gu and water I was guzzling. I tried to put it out of my mind, but by mile 9 I had to pull off and use a port-a-john. My first time ever having to stop mid-race like that, and of course when I got in there the seat was spring-loaded in the "up" position. I'd put it down, it would spring back up, I'd put it back down, it would spring up. Then when I'd lean forward to get the TP it would spring up behind me and I'd almost fall in. I swear, I must have been on Candid Camera or something, and I probably lost a good extra minute fighting with that stupid thing. But nonetheless, I bolted out afterwards feeling like a new woman and tackled my last 4 miles.

With a mile to go, my legs were screaming, my body was heavy, and there was a big guy behind me panting and groaning so loudly, it sounded like he was having a "When Harry Met Sally" moment. It felt like the last half mile was entirely uphill, but then I crested the last one at the top of the finish chute and sprinted like my life depended on it. After all, I'd been holding steady 9's for 20 miles - I was dying to throw down some speed. We came in 5th place in the relay category, and I had nailed my training run. Then it was time for a post-race turkey dinner and a visit to the beer tent, where the BTT folks and I closed it out.

The last thing that happened yesterday at the race was kind of cool and special and touching. As we watched the volunteers break down the beer tent around us, we were joking around with them, and one of the coordinators eventually came over and asked if we'd do him a favor. You see, there was one guy still out on the course, but no spectators. We of course jumped at the chance to cheer him through the finish, and the RD even had some of the volunteers hold up the finish tape for him to break. We all high-fived him and cheered as he finished what was clearly a very long day, and later, we learned that even the football player volunteers were a little misty-eyed, caught in the moment. It's always amazing to watch someone overcome an obstacle, and I think as athletes, we all could relate to struggling through a race but seeing it through to completion.

Now's the part where I send huge warm fuzzies to the race director Kat and everyone who helped organize/run Pumpkinman. The course was well-managed, well-marked, well fueled/hydrated, the volunteers were incredibly friendly, and giving the last finisher the same fanfare that the first received was incredibly classy and sweet.

When Noah and I finally got home after a very long day, we had ice cream as an appetizer and breakfast for dinner, then we each took turns putting on our bathing suits and taking an ice bath, while the other chatted idly to distract from the misery of the icy water. I was going to post a picture of Noah in the tub wearing a hooded sweatshirt and tri shorts, but he politely declined posing for the photo. Oh and I forgot to mention that he took 7 minutes off his half-iron PR, only a few weeks after setting it. The man is a robot, I swear.

Only a few weeks left of training, then it's onto taper and race day. I'd love to tell you I'm nervous, but I'm not. I'm just ready to see what race day brings.

How To Intimidate Your Competition

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 15:28:00 +0000

Look as menacing as possible before the swim start. No one needs to know it's your first tri and you're about to panic in the water.

Tri and Succeed

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 01:11:00 +0000

At long last, I'm blogging again, and with the news that I not only completed my first triathlon this past weekend, I really enjoyed it. And I placed 22nd in my age group of almost 60 people. Here's how it went down:

The alarm went off at 4 and after the usual pre-race breakfast I was a bundle of nerves on the way to the state park, and goosebumps in the cold morning air. Noah was an absolute angel, though, carrying my stuff, calming my nerves, helping me set up my transition area, documenting my morning on film, and reminding me to have fun.

We chatted with some friends, I hopped in the lake to warm up a little (both temperature and muscles), waited on the beach for my wave to start, then it was time to wade in and wait for the gun. I was feeling pretty calm knowing that the water was warm and not choppy, and that I could see the bottom, but when my wave started and the chaos began, my heartrate went from chilled out to pounding out of my chest. I couldn't calm my breathing, I couldn't get my face in the water, and the thoughts of a DNF crossed my mind, but I had mentally prepared for this moment and knew just what to do - STOP. BREATHE. RELAX. I treaded water for a second, flipped over on my back and kicked, then when the mess of athletes had passed me and I had relaxed, I flipped back over and passed other swimmers, one by one. It was like the pool, but without the chlorine, and I was amazed at how short .3 miles really was.

I'd never been so glad to see the beach, and as I passed friends cheering me on, the first thing I said was "I DIDN'T DROWN!!!!" with a big grin on my face. I bolted to transition, threw on my bike gear and was off.

On the road, I knew I had a hilly course ahead of me and was content to take it somewhat easy, but once my legs were warmed up and the race adrenaline was coursing through my veins, it was go time and I started picking off the old dudes on mountain bikes and people in "granny gear" climbing the hills. I'm proud to say I didn't use my own granny gear once, and I pushed myself harder than I ever have on the bike. I even hit 33mph as my max downhill!! Then, I cruised into the transition area grinning ear to ear even bigger, knowing that MY part of the race was imminent. BRING IT.

I wasn't even racing my full 5K pace, as I wasn't sure what would happen to my legs if I pushed as hard as I could off the bike, but it still felt like I was passing almost everyone. I even shortened the gap between myself and a few girls from later waves who had passed me on the bike like I was standing still. With the finish line in sight, I kicked it into overdrive and finished in 1:34 and change, once again grinning like I'd just been handed a winning lottery ticket.

I finished almost exactly in the middle of the pack, which is nothing spectacular, but is well beyond anything I could have imagined. And I proved to myself that I was capable of doing anything I set my mind to. And there will most certainly be a next time :)

Now I have to extend a huge thanks to everyone on the Boston Triathlon team and to my fellow Boston Performance Coaching athletes for their encouragement and cheering, and a huge congratulations to everyone who raced this weekend - both the sprint and the 70.3.

Dear Kind Older Gentleman at the Pool,

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 13:02:00 +0000

While I enjoyed briefly chatting with you in the shallow end about how crowded the pool was last night, I would like to point out that a crowded community pool with three people in each lane, almost all of whom were trying to get in a real workout, is not the place to throw on your snorkel, mask, and fins for a leisurely paddle.

Furthermore, when you were choosing a lane to hop in and force into a 3-person circle swim scenario, why would you choose the one with two very focused swimmers doing drills, instead of the one with two older women doggy paddling?

To quote the immortal Stephanie Tanner - HOW RUDE! Next time, I will practice my triathlon start skills and swim right over your slow old ass. Promise.

Hugs and Kisses,
Brenda

Stowe Race Recap

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 10:47:00 +0000

I'm a little behind on my blogging, but not by much, and I'd be remiss if I didn't post a race recap from Stowe. I ran a 1:03:59, which comes out to about an 8 min/mile average, and I felt strong through pretty much the whole thing.

The odds were stacked against me when I went to bed the night before the race - tired, travel-weary, wasp sting on my arch (note to self: don't walk barefoot in the grass), too much to eat/drink - but I woke up to a perfect race morning. My stomach was OK, I got out of bed without too much complaining, my foot was feeling better, and it was a cool morning. I rolled up to the start thinking "It doesn't get much more perfect than this" and when the race director shouted "GO" through his megaphone, I was ready to attack it.

Now, it's important to also note the course itself at this time. Field start (read: running through grass/dirt for the first little bit), PLENTY of hills (see green elevation line below), and one packed dirt road that felt like it went on forever and made me nervous about rolling an ankle. There was also a headwind for the first couple miles, and by the last two the sun was blazing.

So, all that being said, I ran a great race, and the 8 minute pace average isn't representative of my splits - it's representative of the mile with the steep climb that dragged down my average.

And of course, good race or bad, the weekend itself was wonderful and filled with good friends, good food, good beer, and lots of laughs. So in the end, who cares how I ran?

Just when I thought track was the worst...

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 15:21:00 +0000

Coach Vic, on building bike endurance:

"It is typically easier for new athletes to get their heart rate up during running and more difficult during cycling. You have entered a new world of pain."

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Fri, 16 Jul 2010 17:46:00 +0000

My training is coming along quite nicely, and things aren't nearly as dire as when I left you last, dear reader.

I'm feeling noticeably stronger in the pool and last weekend Noah and I took a little trip to Walden, where I swam roughly a quarter mile without panicking/hyperventilating/drowning. I kind of dig swimming because it's all flowy and relaxing and stuff, and I can feel small improvements week-over-week, which is nice. And, Noah bought me some sweet pink goggles designed for open water swimming and new gear = newfound interest in training so I can use said gear, so I've been itching to get in the water. The man knows me.

I'm still feeling "meh" about cycling, but I have a thousand excuses for why - none of which are related to my suckitude, of course. So rather than kicking my butt training for the bike portion of the race, I'd rather come to terms with how slow I am and just accept the fact that I might get passed by someone on mountain bike from 1992. It's my first tri and everyone can just deal.

And then there's my beloved, wonderful, fabulous running. Yes, it's been hot-as-all-getup and humid (pronounced YOO-mid) to boot, but I've actually been hitting, if not exceeding, my target paces. I've been going out and excitedly running each and every mile. Wednesday, I was even rewarded for my passion with a big gorgeous rainbow behind the Boston skyline as I ran along the river. Wednesday was a REALLY good run, actually.... Started off with some early 90's Janet Jackson on my iPod, the river wasn't too crowded, then BAM - giant rainbow in between the two Hancock Buildings. I'm not that up on my Bible stories, but I DO know the one about Noah's Ark (and the camp song about it), and I know that God sent the rainbow at the end to tell everyone He'd never flood us all out and try to destroy humanity again. So I'm pretty sure God sent the rainbow on Wednesday to the runners on the river as His way of saying "Sorry I've been making the weather suck for you the worst these last couple weeks."

Last but CERTAINLY not least, I got two new pairs of sneakers, neither model of which I've ever run in before. They're slightly less supportive than what I've been running in and slightly less cushioned, too, but ohmygoodness do they feel good and make me run fast. I picked these bad girls up for speed work and short races. They're light and fast - and NOT suitable for my feet to do long distance in. Then I'll be using these for my long and recovery runs. They feel like heaven, which must be why it's one of the most popular models on the market (according to the nice guy at Greater Boston Running Co.).

And with that, I'm headed up to Stowe Vt. for my third time doing the Stowe 8-Miler. The pace to beat is 8:16, and Vic would like me to run sub-8, so we'll see!

Training Bliss

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 07 Jul 2010 02:46:00 +0000

I don't think anyone has ever been as excited to begin training for a marathon on a steamy July night as I was tonight. FINALLY, back in the saddle doing the sport I love. No more muddling through two brand new sports that I suck at while fumbling through made up workouts for the one sport I'm sort of good at.

It was hot, it was humid, I was wearing both a fuel belt AND nothing more than a sports bra and shorts (read: I was doubly self-conscious), and I had the pleasure of running by a bunch of pigheaded movie production crew members not once, but TWICE, each time enduring comments. And I. WORKED. IT.

My cadence was more or less where Vic wanted it to be, my pace was more or less what Vic had planned (even in the oppressive weather), my heart rate was maybe 5-10 beats out of the zone Vic had suggested, and somehow all of this together meant I didn't care how dorky I looked or how sexist the fat guy with the beard was being. I smiled and gave him a his buddies a nod, politely declined his offer of burritos, and decided to appreciate it when he said I was gorgeous. And no, sir, I don't have any hand grenades in my belt, but thanks for asking. Maybe Batman can help you out when he runs by next.

I ended my run and cooled down by walking to the gym, where I resumed the strength training I kind of gave up on doing a week or 2 ago. There, I felt self-conscious and pudgy all over again, but got over it as soon as I heard a girl marveling incredulously to her trainer at the idea of running in this heat/humidity. Then I was able to refocus on my bad-assery and crank out my lift routine.

I'm just hoping tonight is the first of many good workouts on my way to Baystate. I want to enjoy this training season and enjoy my race even more.

Bring It

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 23:37:00 +0000

Marathon training starts tomorrow! As much as I'm not looking forward to long runs in the heat, I'm giddy at the idea of finally having some structure to my training. Here's hoping it gets me out of the funk I've been in!

And of course, knowing what's in store for me over the next 12 weeks, I ended my short little "off season" with a bang - lots of bangs in the sky, that is! It was a fun weekend of eating, drinking, boating, and watching fireworks. It's my favorite weekend each year, and it did NOT disappoint.

And now, bring on Baystate training!

Gotta Blame It On Somethin'...

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 17:01:00 +0000

Michael Jackson once advised to blame it on the boogie. Milli Vanilli said to blame it on the rain. Jamie Foxx blames it on the a-a-a-a-a-al-co-hol. Me? I blame the humidity and heat for my poor athletic performance this summer.

Last night after work, feeling tired and having not bothered to eat anything before I left the house, I threw on the sneaks for a 7-miler. A mile in I felt wonderful. Two miles - ditto. By my turnaround point I was shocked at how fresh my legs felt. When I finished and entered Crossroads, my friend Marcy immediately said "You look like you just had a good run." Mary Ann agreed. They were right.

I haven't changed my diet, my sleep, my workout routine, or even my sneakers. The only things that changed between this Thursday's good run and last Thursday's notsogood run were the temperature and dewpoint. It almost felt like early Fall outside. It's amazing what people are capable of physically when they can breathe and aren't overheating.

I also got my marathon training plan today from Vic, and it officially starts on Tuesday. VERY VERY VERY excited. I'm hoping that focusing on and nailing my marathon workouts will make me feel better about not doing so well at my bike and swim workouts. One out of three ain't bad, right? And I'm considering changing my triathlon goal from "finish feeling strong" to "just freaking finish." Lofty goals, I tell you. And if I bonk along the way, I can always blame it on somethin'...

Identity Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 23:59:00 +0000

The summer has been interesting so far, to say the least, and at this venture I'm having a bit of an athletic identity crisis, part of which can be blamed on my putting Vic on hiatus until marathon training starts back up (next week). Clearly, I need someone to coach me. I wonder how much I'd have to pay him to move in with me, come to work with me, and coach every minute of my day...

Basically, I've been floundering around since April, just kind of making up a running/biking/swimming/strength plan, and not particularly excelling at or enjoying any of it. Here are the facts:

Fact 1: I suck at biking. Like, WHOAH. Noah and Vic both reminded me that I'm a runner, not a cyclist, and that picking up a new sport is never easy. My quads reminded me that I hate hills. The alleged "slow" people I've been trying to keep up with when I ride reminded me that I need to ride alone until I can build some more stamina (They didn't actually tell me that. I figured it out on my own).

Fact 2: Pool swimming and open water swimming are NOT the same thing. I do OK in swim class on Fridays and mid-week when I swim in the pool on my own. I pretty much hyperventilated not even a tenth of a mile across the lake this past weekend. Thank God Noah was following me in a kayak.

Fact 3: I'm crazy jealous of my own boyfriend. I hate to train, but I love to race. Noah loves to train, but could take or leave racing. What that means is he passionately works out for anywhere from 10-14 hours a week, is dropping weight and gaining muscle like mad, and is getting faster in all three sports week-over-week. Meanwhile, I'm in between training seasons and feeling lazy, slow, and pudgy, all while not particularly excelling at any one sport. Except maybe 12-ounce curls. Man, am I good at those.

All this is boiling down to an identity crisis. I don't feel like I train hard enough to consider myself a serious athlete. Yet I'm not happy just zen running with the casual athletes. I'm suffering through my mid-distance runs and not feeling much like a marathoner these days (even though I have 3 under my belt and am about to start training for a 4th), and I am struggling so much with the triathlon training that I'm pretty sure Timberman will be my first and last (if I even do it).

So who am I? Where do I fit in? Not hard core enough for the hard cores, but not relaxed enough for the "fitness" crowd. Is there such a thing as people who train hard but aren't obsessive about it, and aren't necessarily gifted in their chosen sport, but are OK with it?

Harpoon 5-Miler Race Recap

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 23:56:00 +0000

Back in May, I technically ran the M.O.M.'s Run, but I wouldn't say I raced it by any stretch of the imagination, as it fell the day after my birthday party which consisted of heavy drinking and salsa dancing in 3-inch stilettos until midnight.

What that means is today was my first race since Boston. And believe it or not, I'm REALLY happy with how it went.

The Harpoon 5-Miler is hands-down my favorite race of the year. It starts and ends at the Harpoon brewery, the course takes you by Boston Harbor in Southie, it' well-organized, the volunteers are friendly, the T-shirts are always awesome, and your race fee gets you several free beers. So what that means is once a year I run 5 miles as hard as I can, then I drink my face off with my friends for the day. What's not to love?

This year it was darn humid, I was darn tired, and I was feeling pretty darn under-trained. At the start, I told my friend Beckett that I'd be happy with anything under 40 minutes. The gun went off, I raced as hard as I could, I thought I might barf in the last 1.5 miles, and when I finished, the Garmin said 38:15. Even better, the official race results said 38:14. Garmin calls that a 7:44 average mile. Somehow, the official race results call that a 7:13 average mile. Either way, I'm pleased. Humidity has a tendency to destroy my running ability and the last couple miles were tough, so to break 8 by a solid 15 seconds/mile was a minor miracle. Then, I may or may not have had one beer for every mile I ran today. In my opinion, I earned it.

The big takeaway is that my fitness is not nearly as pathetic as I thought it would be, and while I certainly have my work cut out for me before Timberman and Baystate, the situation isn't as dire as I thought. Hopefully Vic agrees :)

Uphill Both Ways

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:55:00 +0000

You know that "When I was your age..." diatribe that our grandparents' generation is stereotyped for giving? The one that references walking to school "uphill both ways?" That's kind of how my weekend of training in New Hampshire felt.

Noah and I took off Saturday morning to spend a couple days on beautiful Lake Winnipesaukee, graciously hosted by some friends of his. Another couple on his tri team drove up, too, and the 6 of us spend the weekend, swimming, biking, and running around the area, in between great meals and funny conversations.

It was only my third time outside on the bike this season (maybe my 6th or 7th time ever), and while the chosen distance of 28 miles seemed harmless enough, I quickly learned that the local hilly terrain was more than I bargained for. Lucky for me, the girls I rode with were extremely patient, understanding, and helpful, and while there was no salvation for my poor quads and hamstrings, I did learn a few tricks that gave me a little extra oomph on the climbs. It was one of those workouts that is tough while you're in it, but then you feel really good about yourself when you're done. Being the glutton for punishment that I am, I joined one of the girls for a 10 minute run immediately after hopping off the bike (what's known as a "brick" in the triathlon community), then the next day ran another 9 miles on those curse-ed hills.

I never got in the water that weekend, but I guess I still have some time to get into a regimen. Although, after training in the same region my upcoming tri is in, I'm almost tempted to give my number away and stick to marathoning!

The Summer Ahead

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Fri, 28 May 2010 22:14:00 +0000

Look at me! I'm blogging! Finally!

The marathon is more than a month behind me, it's Memorial Day weekend, and I'm really looking forward to this summer, as I embark on a few big and fun endeavors.

First, the biggest endeavor - I cowboy'd up and registered for the Baystate Marathon in the fall. yes, October 17 I'll be making two 13.1 loops in beautiful Lowell, MA, and making friends with the 3:40 pacer while I'm at it. It's no Philly or Chicago, but I hear it's a fast, flat course, and I'm interested to see what a marathon that's not Boston will feel like. I'm going in with no expectations, and just hoping for the best. But of course, Vic will be helping me get there injury-free and trained to the best of my ability.

The next biggest endeavor might come as a surprise to many of you - I registered for my first triathlon. Late August I'll be doing the Timberman sprint (the shortest tri distance). Noah's teammates cajoled me into it over tamales and several adult beverages one night and the next thing I knew, I was whipping out the credit card and signing my life away.

So then I joined a cycling group to help me train! Last week I did a non-member new rider ride with the Charles River Wheelmen and had such a great time that I ponied up the $15 for a year's membership (such a big spender, I am) and have intentions of riding with them as often as I'm able. The 27 miles I logged in that day were somewhat comparable to the first time I ran outdoors - a sneaky feeling of "wow, this is actually really enjoyable."

Now I just need to decide where I'll swim. I still haven't given up my posh Healthworks membership for a bare bones MIT one.

So it's going to be a great summer of trying new things and seeing how far I can push myself, but I've also promised myself that I'll learn to love running again. No more pressuring myself to perform and no more focusing on the destination instead of the journey. I'm also looking forward to meeting some new people and expanding my social circle a little. Bring on the months to come!

My Boston Three-Peat: The Race Recap

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Tue, 20 Apr 2010 19:52:00 +0000

I was planning to wait a day or two to blog my race recap so I could marinade in the juices of the experience a little longer, but after watching Brian's report and reading The Marathon Mama's recap, I decided I may as well take my own turn on the blogosphere soapbox.

The quick and dirty report is that I broke 4 hours and set a 25 minute PR for myself. All in all, a successful day.

The long winded answer, however, is that I have mixed emotions about the experience, best explained by something The Marathon Mama said about marathons - "You can never count on them to produce the results you work for because it is such a long time for anything to happen and happen badly."

I arrived in Hopkinton full of hope and excitement and vigor and all those other good fuzzy feelings. I trained hard to get there in one piece and after an injury-free training season, I was incredibly excited to see what I was made of. I discovered that teammate Brian had the exact same pacing plan that Vic laid out for me, so we decided to run together and drag each other through Hell if needed. I felt even more confident knowing I had a pal to help pass the miles.

The gun went off and the weather was perfect - cool, a little overcast, breezy, but not a headwind. The first few miles ticked away and we were right on track, holding around 8:19 the whole way. By mile 4, though, I was conscious of my effort level to hold that pace and I just had a gut feeling that it wasn't my day. Still, I hung on, remembering both that Vic said running a marathon is like being slowly dragged over hot coals, and that I'd never raced Boston before - I'd only run it to finish - so I had no idea how "hard" it was supposed to feel.

I think it was somewhere around mile 9 that Brian pulled ahead to run his own race as I started running out of steam. By mile 10 my wheels started to come off. I felt tired, sluggish, and I needed to recycle some of the gatorade I drank in Hopkinton. I knew at that point that my race plan was out the window, so I took 30 seconds to cop a squat behind a traffic light controller box, refocus my brain and pull my race back together.

I felt a world better after relieving myself, and realized I wasn't THAT far off my plan. Maybe a couple minutes, which I theoretically could make up toward the end if I had steam. I trucked on and tried to focus on staying relaxed, while also reminding myself of why I run and who I was running for. In the 12 miles that followed, some were excruciating and I actually feared I wouldn't finish a few times. There was a headwind on Heartbreak Hill, and the sun broke through at some point, too. When it came out it was never hot, but I felt it zapping my energy and I know it played some role in the way I felt. Other portions of the race's midsection were not far off my goal pace and I felt hopeful that I'd come within 5 or 10 minutes of my goal finish time. The Newton Hills really took it out of me, though, and by mile 22 I knew it would be a battle of sheer will to Copley Square. I was right, too, and when I looked at my splits on my Garmin this morning, it really was those last 4 miles or so where I struggled the hardest.

I dug deep and found a burst of energy for the patient partners at Dana-Farber's mile 25 cheering station, then again at mile 26 where my family and one of my best friends was waiting. When I turned onto Boylston, the finish line looked like it was miles away, and I hardly had a sprint left in me, but I pulled out every last ounce of energy I had to pass through that gorgeous blue arch with my head proudly held high and my arms over my head. Jack tells us that if you run a marathon properly, you should be taking your last effective step at the finish line. I can say with absolute confidence, that was the case. And unfortunately, the finish chute goes for about 3 blocks, so after you take that last effective step you have to take MANY more before you can finally stop.

I finished 12 minutes slower than my goal, but was still proud to have even made it that close, given how poorly I felt at time, and how much I struggled in the last 4 miles. After I wobbled my way through the corral, I unexpectedly bumped into Brian at the Dana-Farber baggage bus. He had an equally challenging race, and finished a minute behind me.

So there you have it. I ran my third Boston and finished in under 4 hours, being carried by "thank you Dana-Faaaaahbah" the whole way. And I raised more than $5,500 for a charity I love. Am I disappointed that I didn't qualify? No. That was always a stretch goal and I know I'll do it at some point. This just wasn't my year. Am I disappointed that my race fell apart so early? Yes.

It's hard to explain what it feels like to follow your training to the letter and watch yourself growing faster and stronger each week, only to have your body and mind jam on the brakes not even halfway into the race. What I can say, though, is that it was a learning experience for me and now I know, like The Marathon Mama said, that you can't count on seeing the results you expect, which is not an easy thing for a Type A over-achiever like me to accept and come to grips with. What do you MEAN effort in doesn't equal results out?? Is today opposite day?

But please know this: I'm proud of myself. I'm happy with my time and I'm thrilled with my killer PR. And I'm excited to take what I've learned from this Boston with me into my next marathon and maybe run a little smarter. And I look forward to chasing that unicorn again next year.

28 Names

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 13:24:00 +0000

I've been blogging about my training and fitness and bat-shit-craziness for quite some time now, but with the marathon now 5 days away, my mind has been more frequently turning away from my training and toward the reason I've signed up to do this three times - cancer.

Last year, the miles were hard and painful, but hearing "thank you Dana-Farber" for 26 miles and seeing the patient partners at Mile 25 made each step a little easier and more meaningful. I choose to train and run and torture my body. I can stop any time I want. But no one can choose not to have cancer or to not feel like crap after chemo and radiation treatments.

Each year, I've run the Boston Marathon to honor the lives of some special people my family and I lost to cancer. And as I've made friends with my DFMC teammates who each run for their own special people, their special people have become my own, by association. The last two marathons, I've written those names on ribbons, along with the names people gave me when they made donations to my page, pinned the ribbons to my singlet, and carried them with me on race day to honor their courage and remind myself why I run. This year I'm doing it again, and this morning I counted 28 ribbons. That's 28 courageous people who have fought cancer. Some lost, some won, some are still fighting.

I hope that as you root for me on Marathon Monday and track my race progress on the BAA website (bib #22586), that you'll take a moment to think about the real reason I'm running, and give a little mental nod to the brave people my teammates and I run for, as well as the ones in your own life.

A Shameless Plug

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 13:18:00 +0000

With 6 days to go until the marathon, I'm feeling surprisingly calm and excited. I don't have any nagging injuries to worry about this year, I got ahead of the curve decorating my singlet and making sure to buy everything I'll need for race weekend ahead of time, and one of my best friends will be arriving in three short days from PA to hang out for the weekend and watch me run on Monday. What's NOT to be excited about?

As I look ahead to April 19, I'm once again thinking about all the people and things that helped me get to where I am today, and I'm incredibly grateful to all of them. My parents, Noah, my friends, my coworkers, Jack, my donors, and even the "track police" at MIT who thankfully didn't start patrolling until my very last workout - they all helped me through these last four months in one way or another.

But right now I'd be remiss if I didn't properly thank someone else - Coach Vic.

Training with him has opened my eyes to what I'm capable of achieving in the gym and on the road. I learned that I can, in fact, train for a marathon without my body falling apart. I learned that a 3:40 marathon is within my reach, if not next week then definitely in the next year. I learned that these little legs actually have some speed in them. I learned the importance of strength training and pacing and heart rate.

So here's the shameless plug part: As much as I wish Vic was my personal coach that no one else in the world could have, he's not. Anyone can tap into his knowledge, advice and skills, and if he's put up with my Type-A personality and freak-outs over the last few months, chances are he'd welcome adding a few more normal clients to his roster, to cancel out my crazy :)

If you're amazed at the results I've achieved in a few short months and interested in learning more about The Man, The Legend, The Vic, check out www.bostonperformancecoaching.com. He and Ali Winslow are VERY good at what they do (and are super nice people, on top of it) and surprisingly affordable - even on my "I work at a non-profit now" salary.

Jerks, Jerks, and More Jerks

noreply@blogger.com (Brenda) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 11:00:00 +0000

After being grumpy and tired all day yesterday, complaining that I didn't feel tapered and didn't understand why taper included speed work, I took a hard look at my training calendar and realized that last night's track workout was the last REAL WORKOUT before the marathon. Yeah, I have to run 4 easy tonight, 10 on Saturday, and a handful next week at marathon pace, but the tough stuff would officially be done as soon as I completed my track work.

So with that, I took my new attitude, new booty shorts and new sneakers over to the MIT outdoor track in the still-80-degree weather at 7:15pm. My stomach felt a little off and I felt really tired, but I was determined to make my 3-4 mile repeats really count and finish my training on a high.

Enter: The Fun Police.

Midway through my first @#$%%^ mile repeat, this somewhat official looking guy in a black MIT polo asked me if I was a student. I gasped out a no, while holding a 7:02 minute mile pace. I finished that mile, did my minute recovery, jumped back into my next mile and a half a mile in, this same official looking guy interrupts me mid-lap again (how rude!!!!) to tell me that I need a student ID to be on the track. I tell him I thought it was open to the public after 7pm and he tells me it's private property and they're going to be cracking down in the next weeks. I politely explain (ok, I was pleading) that I was running Boston in 2 weeks, that this was my last track workout and I only had a mile left. I asked if I could PLEAAAAAASE finish my workout. He told me "you can do a couple more laps, but that's it."

At this point, I was FURIOUS. He clearly was more interested in asserting his fake power over a tiny little blond girl who wasn't causing anyone any harm, than in listening to reason and letting me run 6 more laps (2 to finish the one he interrupted, 4 to do my last mile). I thought about getting in his face. I thought about just doing it all anyway and seeing if he had the gumption to have me physically removed. But the reality is, he stopped me mid-mile, halfway through my set and my workout, killed my momentum and ruined my workout. I was cooked.

I grabbed my water bottle and stormed off the track yelling "Thank you! Appreciate it!" back at him, and then decided maybe I could just do a couple of miles at track pace on the river. After all, a mile is a mile and I don't need a track to measure it. Just my Garmin. So I jogged over, only to realize it was a warm night and even at almost 8pm the river was PACKED. And it was dark enough that it was hard to see those people and the uneven spots on the sidewalk. I attempted it and at a half mile, realized the effort was futile. So I officially admitted defeat and jogged home, where two of the women who live in my building were sitting directly in front of the front door on the front steps drinking, smoking and hanging out. I had to step over their wine glasses to get in, and in my failed workout funk I just blurted out "You know there's a patio out back, right?" You can imagine how well that went over.... I might need to find a new apartment now.

So that's the sad end to my "official" training. Failed workout, angry neighbors, and me disappointed all around. Here's hoping my marathon goes a whole lot better.