Lifelong Runner

I mentioned two posts ago that I have taken time off from marathons and focused instead on the shorter distance events. My last marathon was Ely in the fall of 2021. For the past 5 years, I have not had the desire nor the time to commit to training for 26.2 miles. Well, after leaving my full time job in January, I have really gotten the bug to have a goal to work towards. Something with which to challenge myself and find reward daily. I couldn’t stop thinking about doing Grandma’s marathon in June and wondering if I could do it. The biggest issue was that Grandma’s has been filled for months, with both the half and full selling out in record time. However, in mid-January, I was talking to a neighbor who mentioned he had just signed up for a charity bib and was going to raise money for the Brave Like Gabe (BLG) Foundation, thereby securing an entry to run the race. He grew up in the same town as Gabe and was doing the race in her honor. That really got me thinking; I could do the same. I started looking over the options for fundraising and narrowed in on BLG and Girls on the Run (GOTR). Since I already volunteer as a coach for GOTR, thereby donating my time, I opted to go with BLG. My connection with Gabe is not as direct as my neighbor’s but I have followed her story since 2017 and was always very moved by her courageous cancer battle. When she passed away in 2019, I was very sad. With a friend, I attended the run they held after her funeral. She touched so many people in so many ways. I decided this was a chance to challenge myself by committing to a marathon training plan as well as brushing up on my fundraising skills and contributing to her mission.

As I write this, I am in Week 7 (out of 18) of my training plan. I am very much looking forward to my 14 mile run tomorrow morning. This will be the furthest I have run since training for Ely in 2021. Spring weather in Minnesota presents another layer of complexity to marathon training. We get a little bit of everything- snow, ice, rain, freezing temperatures, a few hot days, and wind. Actually, wind is pretty much a constant. The good thing about my workfree schedule is that I can plan my runs around the weather, or for that matter, I can plan around most things. My preferred time to run these days is late morning. I wait for the temps to warm up a little bit and for added bonus, I can run while everyone else is working thereby reducing the trail traffic. Once the warmer weather arrives, I will adjust as necessary.

The key to my conditioning is keeping up with my strength training. I’m fortunate to have a gym in our apartment building with great equipment. I try to get in there at least once a week, twice when time allows. 

Next week, the spring season of Girls on the Run begins. I am one of the coaches at Marcy school in Northeast Minneapolis. This will be my fourth season with this school. The school is just over a mile from my apartment, so I can walk or run over there. It’s a really fun program that gets girls excited about running and over the course of 8 weeks, they prepare to run a 5K at the end of the season. It’s exciting to pass along my love of running to the younger generations. 

Cheers to spring and all things running!

I vowed I would not document anything Covid-related.  I cannot imagine a time in the future during which I will want to remember or reflect on the pandemic.  The lockdown was, well, shall we say, very unpleasant.  But the one thing it couldn’t take away from me was the ability to get outside and RUN!  Despite my aversion to writing anything that includes the words Covid or pandemic, there are some good things that happened in 2020 and beyond that brought me joy.

At the top of the list was having Dan join me on a regular basis for my afternoon runs.  We easily logged more miles together during that period than the rest of our marriage combined.  We’d sign off work late afternoon and hit the trails.  Of course that’s what everyone else was doing, since it was the only thing you COULD do, but we made it our routine and the exercise was so rewarding.  

Races were cancelled, of course.  I had signed up for the Ely marathon in September 2020 hoping that race was small enough and remote enough to happen, but nope, it also fell victim to the government overreach.  But I kept on running.  Though we thought it was silly to sign up for and pay for virtual races, we eventually did just that.  It still provided motivation and a sense of accomplishment, plus we needed to support the race organizations to keep them in business.  So I did virtual races through the Boston Athletic Association and Twin Cities in Motion.  Dan and I both did the TC 10 mile in October of 2020 and did our run in Elgin.  The change of scenery and low traffic trail made it so enjoyable.  My parents made a start/finish line for us and it was fun to share our accomplishment with them.  In March of 2021, TCM brought back some in-person races.  We signed up for a spring race that allowed 250 entrants, all of whom started in pairs and in staggered fashion.  I was so excited!  It wasn’t until the day before the event I realized they were not shutting down the course to participants only.  Basically, we paid money to run our normal route with the normal levels of trail traffic.  At the start of the race, they paired everyone up to start and then had about 20 seconds between pairs.  For whatever reason, Dan and I weren’t paired together which was totally odd.  Dan started and finished ahead of me, but was waiting for me at the finish line and despite my misgivings, it turned out to be quite fun.  It was a promise of more good things to come.

I resumed marathon training, with the hopes that I’d be able to use my deferred registration for the Ely marathon in September of 2021.  Summer training is always a bit challenging with the heat, plus we moved that summer adding another layer of stress.  However, the race date rolled around and I felt ready, and thankfully it wasn’t cancelled!  I had previously run the Ely half but this would be my first full.  The course is quite tough.  There are a LOT of hills and not rolling hills but BIG hills.  It’s a small event, which is nice.  I ended up running part of the race with a guy from the Twin Cities.  It was okay for a little while and the conversation provided some distraction from the hills, but at one point I felt ready to break away but felt guilty leaving him behind.  I did what I had to, reminding myself I didn’t owe him anything, but I still felt badly because he never really said “go on ahead” which is customary in those situations.  I struggled through the remaining miles, vowing to never run that race again.  Crossing the finish line, I burst into tears, upset with the level of discomfort I was in and for leaving someone behind.  I remember my Dad handing me a hanky and Dan saying you always feel this way after a race and that it would be okay.  Eventually, the guy I met on the course finished and came over to thank me for running with him.  We congratulated each other and that made me feel better.  Still, I am not running that marathon ever again ;).  
The next weekend, Dan and I did the TC 10 mile.  I wasn’t sure it was the best idea to race back-to-back weekends, but figured I could take it easy on the 10 mile.  I ended up having a pretty good race and was glad I did it.  Plus, we had already paid for the registration the year before, and it’s hard to not do races that start so close to home (like a block away!).  

Now that races were back, I needed something else to look forward to and train for.  I signed up for the Magnolia District marathon in Waco, TX in April 2022.  This race is special, as Chip Gaines started it to raise money for the Brave Like Gabe Foundation.  The local connection was certainly an added draw.  I was set to start training in December of 2021 but ended up injured.  I took a couple of weeks off which didn’t help and finally decided to make a doctor appointment.  Turns out, I had a herniated disc which was pushing on the nerves down my leg.  I tried physical therapy and an injection, and when nothing seemed to help, had to downgrade to the half marathon.  My doctor and I agreed I could pursue that distance, and then I’d take some time off afterwards with the hopes of it healing on its own. 

 
The Magnolia event was quite honestly the best race experience.  Everything was based at the Silo District.  Packet pick up was outside.  We got my packet and then wandered around the fun shops.  Certainly beats a packed convention center!  Before the race, we were allowed to hang out in the same space!  No crowded corrals and long lines for porta potties.  I used a bathroom with running water and then lounged on a bean bag chair before I casually made my way over to the start.  Chip was there to see the runners off.  He even made eye contact with me and waved to me as I crossed the starting line, and though I felt like a silly schoolgirl, it was certainly one of the highlights of the morning!  The course took us through Baylor University, along the Brazos river, and across various parts of Waco.  It was great for my spectators as they were able to see me at multiple points along the way.  Jeff and Kathy Pruitt joined us for the trip, and despite the early hour, made it down to see me run.  Kathy even insisted on running a bit with me, which makes me smile every time I think about it.  And as always, Dan was there to provide support and snap some pictures.  It was hot in Waco that spring day, and I hadn’t run in the heat for about 6 months due to MN’s extremely long and cold winter/spring.  The heat was a good distraction from pain, though, and I managed to complete the half in just over 2 hours.  I was pleased with that. 

Taking time off wasn’t quite as challenging as I was imagining, though there were days I longed to go for a run.  Dan and I would go for walks instead of runs, and joined Basecamp Fitness to get some strength work in.  I started running again at the end of July with the hopes of toeing the line for the TC 10 mile in October.  Things are certainly improved, so I am encouraged. 

 
I can never overstate the important role running has played in my life.  This was fully evident during the pandemic.  When all else was forbidden, running was still there for us.  It gave us something to look forward to, and provided great mental and physical health benefits as well.  Even when we escaped the city and spent time at Izaty’s and Ely, we got outside and logged mile after mile.  I look forward to many more miles this fall and beyond. It’s good to be back in more ways than you can imagine ;).

The week leading up to the Napa Valley Marathon was unlike any other.  Instead of checking the weather every 10 minutes as I’ve done with other races, I was instead worried about the Corona virus and whether or not we should actually be traveling.  I’d ask Dan multiple times a day what he thought we should do. I was fully prepared to cancel our trip and not run the marathon. I would have been upset to be sure, but health and peace of mind were far more important.  As silly and inconsequential as it sounds now, I was prepared to sacrifice my run. Dan never seemed to waiver; we’d be extra careful but we were going on our trip.

And so we departed Minneapolis on Friday, February 28th.  The airport was bustling with others who had clearly made the same decision as us.  Our flight was full, and save for a few people I noticed wearing masks or wiping down their seat tray, everything seemed fairly normal.  Off we went, California bound. Non-Corona virus issues complicated our trip once we landed in San Francisco. The person who had rented us his Tesla canceled while we were in flight.  We ended up renting from Hertz, a Ford Mustang. A logical, comparable choice (ha ha). The 60 mile trip from San Francisco to Napa Valley took 3 hours due to insane traffic. We arrived in Napa Valley after traveling for over 10 hours.  When they gave us a complimentary glass of wine upon check in at our hotel, I greedily snatched it up. It didn’t matter that my hands were full of bags and luggage, I was going to enjoy that wine. I would have abandoned my items in the lobby had the nice guy at the desk not offered to bring them upstairs for us.

From there, things started to improve and I was feeling somewhat more relaxed.  We had dinner at a cute and cozy restaurant (this was before social distancing was a thing) on the patio at our hotel.  We stopped next door at a tasting room, and then crashed into bed that evening exhausted yet excited. 

After a 2 mile shakeout run on Saturday morning, Dan and I lunched at Melted, a sandwich shop that uses waffles in lieu of bread.  They were so delicious and seemingly not as unhealthy as you might think. We then headed to the expo to get my packet and bib number.  The Napa Valley Marathon is a rather small event. From what I could tell by looking at previous years’ results, they had between 1200 and 1800 marathon participants.  This year, because of all the other events that were canceled, the race sold out. Still, 2258 marathoners is much different than the 30-40,000 in big races like Boston and Chicago.  And that’s precisely why I chose it (the wine country location didn’t hurt). So things like the packet pickup and pasta dinner were also a bit more manageable. Still busy, but not overwhelmingly so.  Now, I must admit that the pasta dinner did make me nervous. It was set up as a buffet with everyone touching everything. The food was quite good but I would have preferred that it was plated for us, just to be extra cautious.  After carbo loading, we headed back to the hotel. There, I finished up my regular pre-race routine. I laid out my clothes, charged up my Garmin, texted with my Mom, and set multiple alarms (and then checked them multiple times).

Even though the race didn’t start until 7:30am, I still had to get up at 4am.  I had decided to take a bus to the starting line instead of Dan driving me there, and the instructions were to be at the high school by 5:30am.  It wasn’t far away, but one must prepare for everything. Another nice thing about a small race- Dan dropped me off just feet away from the bus that I was to get on.  No walking for blocks. No security checkpoints. I got on the bus, sat down, and was soon joined by a nice woman from Oregon. We chatted on the ride to the start, and it was really nice.  It won’t surprise you to know that I was amongst the first people to arrive at the starting line around 6:00am. The wait was a little brutal. We were told we could wait on the bus, but they kept making us get off and find a different one for various reasons (i.e. the original bus I was on became the gear check bus).  Race time closed in and I got in the porta potty line one last time, talked to more nice runners, and weathered a brief, passing wind storm. 

Race time finally rolled around, and I was ready to go!  Though the weather was perfect for running, it was a bit chilly for just standing around.  Right at 7:30am, they signaled the start and off we went! I was really looking forward to being on a course new to me, and discovering new scenery. The vineyards were beautiful, and I really attempted to take it all in.  It was a little crowded at the start, but not terribly so. My goal was to enjoy myself and anytime I can finish under 4 hours, I am generally pretty pleased. So I positioned myself near the 3:50 pace group, though I had no interest in actually being in the group.  Personally, I hate the pace groups. People running too closely together. Pacers shouting out instructions. For the first mile it was fine and somewhat peaceful. Once we hit the first mile, it was like the pacers switched into military mode. There was a male and female teamed up and they were both barking commands.  I couldn’t take it, so I had two choices- slow down or speed up. I choose the latter. Gradually, I tried to distance myself from the group, but I could still hear them behind me. Eventually, I got far enough ahead of them that I couldn’t hear them, and I was able to relax a bit. The course was fairly hilly in the beginning and some of the roads were at a slant, making it somewhat painful on the lower body.  I could feel my legs tightening up early on. Given that it was a smaller race, there were also fewer water stops, something I should have looked up ahead of time and perhaps carried my own bottle. My legs were increasingly feeling uncomfortable, so I started taking two cups at each water station and then hoped I wouldn’t drink too much that I needed the bathroom. It’s a delicate, hard-to-achieve balance.   

There were few spectators along the course.  I was completely fine with that. I enjoy the solitude of the long run.  The smaller crowds also made it easier to find Dan. He told me where he’d be on the course so I could look for him.  As I approached that location, I was eagerly scanning the crowd for his familiar face. I started to panic slightly when I didn’t see him at first but all of sudden, I spotted him!  I was so happy! He was okay and looked good. We runners worry just as much about our family as you do about us, in case you weren’t aware. Anyway, seeing Dan around mile 9 ½ was a nice boost!  I tried to settle in and get comfortable. I felt as though I was running faster than I wanted to, especially that early in the race, but I needed to maintain a safe distance from the 3:50 group. I was ahead of the curve with the whole social distancing thing, it seemed.

As the miles wore on, I felt my pace slow just a bit.  I was trying to calculate my finish time based on where I was, and as I approached mile 18, I could hear them behind me.  Knowing I had lost some ground, I again had a choice to make. Pick up the pace and operate from a place of physical discomfort, or let them catch me and possibly collapse mentally.  Though I have led or won VERY few races in my lifetime, I know the challenge of maintaining a fierce sense of competition after losing your position. Within the larger marathon, I was racing them.  I was racing myself. I needed to stay strong or the last few miles would be brutal. I picked up the pace and was actually feeling quite good for several miles. What I’ve discovered from running marathons is that once you reach mile 20, you can start to let yourself imagine finishing.  Once you only have 6, 5, 4, etc miles to go, you picture yourself on a short training run back at home and tell yourself, “Okay, it’s just like running your Nicollet Island loop; you’ve got this.” And yes, lately I have resorted to actually talking to myself. Out loud, but in a soft voice so only I can hear it.

As the miles ticked away, I noticed people starting to kick it in and it motivated me to dig deep for a good finish.  We were in the city limits by now, and it was mostly flat. I tried hard to keep my legs working and my stride steady.  I kept a close eye on the terrain to avoid things that trip up tired legs. The roads close to the high school weren’t fully shut down so all of sudden there would be cars driving next to us, which was alarming at first, but there was plenty of room for all of us.  It wasn’t the most exciting finish area, and there certainly weren’t blocks of cheering fans (which I do appreciate at the end), but it was still the finish! After a series of turns, I could finally see the end! Whatever kick I had left, I used it. Crossing that finish line is always such a sweet and satisfying moment.  I grabbed a bottle of water, got my medal and warming blanket, and set off to find Dan. Again, being it was a small race, I figured I should easily be able to find him. I headed towards the chute exit, which is always mobbed by people who for some reason, stand right at the exit. They basically block it, which is always a source of frustration for me.  Anyway, I saw my husband standing a few yards back like a smart and rational person. Reuniting after the race is so exciting. It’s time to catch up on what we’ve been doing for the past 6+ hours. Of course, we know the basics of what each other was doing, but getting the specifics is a thrill. 

The hours that fill the remainder of race days are precious to me.  It’s time spent eating (and drinking, of course) and texting family and friends who cared enough to support me.  It’s time spent replaying the race in my head so as to try and hold on to the moments. It’s time spent wishing time would slow down so the day wouldn’t end.  It’s time spent wondering why I’m not at all tired, despite having been up since 4am and running a few miles in that time. It’s time spent in complete gratitude for the gifts and opportunities with which I’ve been blessed.  I cherish each marathon, each mile, each step.

And while I didn’t want the day to come to end, I certainly enjoyed the remainder of our trip to California.  Dan and I took a trip aboard the Napa Valley wine train, toured the Tesla factory in Fremont, and spent a day in San Francisco.  With the threat of the pandemic looming over our heads, we did our best to enjoy a wonderful trip.

A week or so after our return, Dan asked me if I thought we made the right decision in going to California.  Just a few moments earlier, I was thinking to myself how fortunate I felt to have gotten in not one but three trips before mid-March.  Not only that, I was able to run my event. My heart breaks for all the people whose races have been cancelled in the weeks since. I guess we will likely never know if we made the right decision or not.  We can’t know if we were asymptomatic carriers who might have infected someone else. I pray that is not the case. I’m grateful for the experience we had and will rely on those memories to get through this unimaginable time.

Up to this point in my running career, I had run 10 marathons:  4 Grandma’s, 3 Twin Cities’, and 3 Boston’s. I was very excited for the opportunity to try a new event!  I had registered for and gained acceptance into the Chicago Marathon nearly an entire year earlier. Needless to say, I was excited to finally experience it.

We got into Chicago on Friday evening.  After navigating our way through a poorly marked airport terminal, we managed to find a shuttle to the train.  I was not terribly excited about taking the train, but getting an Uber during rush hour would have taken forever and been quite expensive.  To my delight, we found two (clean) seats on the train and as I partially suspected, were surrounded by other runners arriving from out of town.  One runner in particular struck up a conversation with me after noticing my Boston Marathon jacket. His name was Sidy and he was from France. As it turns out, he’s run 219 marathons and ultramarathons in the last 9 years, and he’s run 64 of them in his bare feet.  Yes, I did point out that was gross. He was unfazed. I noticed another woman who was partially listening to the conversation and would nod from time-to-time but never joined the conversation. Since I have trouble hearing in noisy situations, I was hoping someone else would take over but she was happy to listen.  And in the end, so was I. Sidy was quite the adventurer.  

Once we arrived downtown, we checked into our hotel and found a place for a late dinner.  With full and happy stomachs, we then made a quick stop at a nearby Walgreens to load up on water and other essentials.  It’s worth noting this was the best Walgreens we have ever visited. We were greeted upon arrival by a very enthusiastic manager who clearly loved her job or had taken in way too much caffeine that day.  Whatever the reason, I appreciated her energy. Loaded up with our goodies, we stepped outside the store and headed towards our hotel when the largest rat ran I have ever seen scampered across the sidewalk in front of us.  I was horrified. I know that these large, disgusting rodents are out there. I have just been lucky enough to never see them. I get creeped out just thinking about it right now. “At least it’s outside” I repeated to myself multiple times.  Once we were safely back to the hotel with no other rodent sightings, we ended the evening with a drink at the hotel’s rooftop bar and enjoyed the Chicago cityscape. 

I’m normally a wreck in the final days leading up to a marathon.  I had vowed to try and be less anxious this time. Afterall, a hamstring injury had put this whole race in real jeopardy, and I was truly thankful to be there.  I made a conscious effort to try and be less neurotic, to just enjoy the experience and above all else, not drive Dan completely crazy. I might have been a tiny bit successful up to this point.  The wheels starting coming off when we went to the expo.  Actually, things started out okay. There was no line for security or for bib pick up but once we started walking around and looking at merchandise, things got crowded and uncomfortable.  I mean having tons of running gear at your fingertips is purely magical. Add in all the people and things quickly become quite unpleasant. This experience was not much different than any other expo we’ve attended.  If you don’t show up with a patient attitude, you’re done. I thought I was prepared to be at ease, but my nerves got the best of me. The last straw was the Nike store, which carried the official event merchandise. I really wanted a jacket or some other Chicago Marathon item to wear proudly after the race.  I wasn’t totally in love with the offerings, the place was extremely crammed, and loud music was blasting. Not playing. Blasting. I actually got light headed and high tailed it out of there, found the line for the shuttle back to the hotel, and preserved some sanity. 

Dinner was early that evening.  Partially because we’d have to get up super early the next morning, partially because we failed to make reservations soon enough.  We ventured not far from our hotel to an Italian eatery. We got there early, as in 4:15pm. Though we had a reservation we opted to sit at the bar, where we ordered a round of drinks and some pasta.  I sipped away at my wine, but eventually asked Dan to finish it when I noticed that no one else who appeared to be a runner had a drink in front of them. The food was nothing spectacular, but it did the job. It loaded me up with carbs. Back at the hotel after dinner, I finished laying out my clothes for the next day and packed my gear check bag. The only thing left to do was set an alarm for 4:15am and try to get a good night’s sleep.  

Being the rule follower that I am, I arrived at the starting line at 5:30am according to the instructions given by the race organizers.  It was a full two hours before my wave started and actually closer to 2 ½ hours before my corral, the last in wave 1, would get to start.  The second weekend in October, in Chicago, is cold and DARK! I am not sure the last time I used a porta potty with barely any light. Luckily, I was one of the first people in line given my early arrival. Then, I found an open seat on a bench and rested my legs for as long as I could.  Moving around, the temperature was fine. Just sitting on that bench, I was shivering. In fact, my arms were sore the next day. It had to be from the shaking. Ironically, or maybe not terribly so, I ended up sitting next to a woman from MN. She was talking to a guy on the other side who was from Canada.  I opted not to interject myself into their conversation; I preferred to just eavesdrop. 

The waiting is brutal.  That’s the thing with large races.  You have to get there so early and when it’s your first time at a particular event and you don’t know what to expect, well that makes it even more difficult.  After what seemed like hours, because it WAS actually hours, the race got underway. I was in corral E of wave 1, which meant when the race started at 7:30am, it took me about 20 minutes to actually get to the starting line.  I turned the corner onto Wacker Street and could see the starting line up ahead but I was distracted by the most disgusting sight. Alongside of the street where people had tossed their warm up clothes, men were peeing. Yes, grown adult sober men somehow thought it was okay to just relieve themselves in public.  Not five feet away, event volunteers were collecting the discarded clothing to donate to charity. I don’t think anything marathon-related has ever enraged me so much. How completely selfish and improper must you be to pee on something that is going to be picked up and given to someone in need. And guess what? I also felt the need to use the bathroom again, since I had waited in the coral for an hour since my last trip to the porta potty.  Being a woman, not to mention a sensible and respectful human being, doesn’t afford me the same ease so off I went to run my race, knowing if the urge became overwhelming I’d do the right thing and stop along the way and use the potty.  

After making it past the crude individuals I hoped to not encounter along the race route (or ever), I did get to the starting line.  It was almost 8am. I had been up since 4:15am. Sometimes, it’s exhausting just making it to the starting line of a marathon. I punched the start button on my Garmin and off I went.  Since I was at the end of the first wave, the first few miles were not overcrowded. I was able to run fairly comfortably. Eventually, wave 2 runners started catching up and things got more challenging.  I’m not entirely sure how they assigned people to their corrals and waves. I know that I got into the race with a qualifying time, so maybe that seeded me up higher than faster runners who entered via the lottery.  I consider it a privilege to participate in these events and I always try and respect the race organizers and how they run it. But this was somewhat crazy. If I wasn’t speeding past someone, someone was speeding past me.  And in a crowded field, that makes things quite precarious. Luckily, I managed to navigate the course pretty well, with someone bumping into me only once.  

We weaved our way through of all the Chicago neighborhoods.  In the beginning, I tried following the painted blue line which is the shortest path to the finish.  Unless you’re running mostly alone and can run the tangents without concern, it’s not feasible to do that for 26 miles.  I was running fairly comfortably and my hamstring wasn’t bothering me too terribly. I tried to maintain a pace slower than I was used to, knowing that I had missed several weeks of training and wasn’t confident about my conditioning.  My goal really was to enjoy things and take in my surroundings. I did try and appreciate the sights, like the architecture and character of the buildings, and the sounds, like congregations standing outside of their churches singing to us.  I kept looking for the lake, thinking we’d run right along it, but we were a street over. That’s what I get for not more seriously studying the course map! Reading the signs that spectators hold up is always a joy. Some are pretty clever. By the halfway mark, we were back in the heart of downtown Chicago and things got really crowded again.  The crowd support was huge and I actually managed to hear and then see Dan as he cheered me on. It was here, he told me later, that I was about one minute behind Tiki Barber, retired NFL player. It was also at that spot that I wondered if I could really handle 13 more miles. My body was fine, as far as I can remember. The sheer number of runners is what was taking a toll on me.  Planning out each step, going around others, and having others go around me was wearing me down mentally. I reminded myself that quitting would be far more painful than another 2 hours on the course. Thus, I trudged on. 

Shortly after mile 13, the roads got wider and for a brief time at least, we were able to spread out.  That provided a nice break and allowed me to get comfortable again. This same pattern would basically continue for the rest of the race.  The water stops were a challenge and to be honest, I know I didn’t always approach them correctly. I tried not to walk, but that meant liquid going up my nose or down my chin and not in my mouth.  I ate my Cliff Blocks for energy and my teeth felt gritty and gross from all the sugar. But, I trudged on.  

As in the case of most marathons I’ve run, I can recall very little afterwards.  Perhaps there’s some scientific reason for it. Perhaps it’s just me. I remember bits and pieces but that’s about it.  Down the home stretch in Chicago, there are a few things I remember. I heard a couple of songs that made me tear up. First there was Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” which made me think of Gabe Grunewald, a professional runner from Minneapolis who died earlier this year from cancer at a young age.  Her sisters and friends sang karaoke to that song at her post-funeral celebration. Then there was “Come on Eileen” which of course made me think of my Mom, who is one of my biggest supporters. With the adrenaline pumping and my pace quickened, I had to remind myself to watch my footing and avoid tripping. Tired legs and uneven pavement don’t mix well together.  

I was aiming for what I thought was the finish line thinking I could get under 4 hours, only to reach that point and discover I had about 3 more blocks to go.  Again, studying the course map ahead of time might have proved beneficial. At that point, though, it didn’t matter. I was almost there and I was thrilled, over or under 4 hours made little difference at this point.  You work so darn hard to get to that point. All those months of training, working through injury, and then the 26 miles leading up to the .2 which is absolutely thrilling! For what I’m guessing were security reasons, there were no spectators along the last .2.  I could see them, off at a distance behind a fence. But those last few blocks, it was runners and volunteers only. And then I was there. Crossing the finish line of the Chicago Marathon, my 2nd world major race and 11th marathon.  I’ve said before, there’s really no way to describe that feeling and if I could bottle it, I would.  

I made my way through the finish area, collecting my medal and then grabbing some water and a heat blanket.  I tend to move pretty quickly at this point, as I want to be reunited with my family. Lots of runners move leisurely, stopping to take pictures or rest.  Not me; if I stop, I might not get started again. Returning to the gear check tent area, I noticed how different everything looked in the daylight! I got my bag, threw on some warmer clothes, and headed towards the family meeting area.  I spotted Dan before he saw me. These are always some of the most emotional moments for me. Seeing my family, those who support me and follow me while I pursue my goals, is another thing I cannot put into words. I am so grateful to do what I do and to have people who are willing to endure the crowds, chaos, and sometimes unfavorable elements to watch me makes it all that more meaningful.  As much as I like telling them about my race, I also look forward to hearing what they’ve done for the last 8 hours! As it turns out, Dan had watched me in three different spots along the course, even though I only saw him once. He walked, took the train, and had his own adventure that morning. He told me how the crowd around him at the 13 mile mark was looking for Tiki Barber. Eventually, Dan is the one who spotted him but no one else saw him.  Not wanting to yell in the video he was taking, he simply pointed hoping others would notice. And not to brag, but I did end up finishing 20 minutes ahead of Tiki. In his defense, he carries a lot more muscle than I do.   

We walked back to the hotel where a hot shower awaited me.  We had a late lunch with a friend from Minneapolis who now lives in Chicago, and then relaxed at our hotel bar for the evening, having endured enough crowds for the day.  Those are the moments that I wish would go on forever, those satisfying moments blurred by exhaustion (and maybe some wine) in which you can bask in the glory of your achievement.  

The next day, we made our way over the Nike store so I could get the gear I wish I had bought at the expo.  We stopped for a drink at a place not far from our hotel where I saw a familiar face. The woman (and her husband) from the train ride on Friday night were in the same establishment seated not far from us.  She came over to ask me if I remembered her. In such a large city, it was amazing to run into the same person on multiple occasions. They were from Rome. And they were going home the next day and then coming back to the US so she could run New York three weeks later.  And you all think I’m crazy.  

In the days that followed, as I reflected upon the race, I was dogged by the thought that the race wasn’t terribly fun.  With lower expectations for my finishing time, I was prepared to more fully enjoy the marathon. But I can’t have invested so much time and energy into training for something and then not have fun.  Right? And why am I drawn back to doing it again and again? I think the best explanation is running a marathon is really just the last 26.2 miles of the journey. The months of preparation, the sacrifice, the agonizing over injury, the joy of overcoming the injury.  It’s all part of the marathon experience, and each step is an important piece. I thrive on running. It’s something I can do and the challenges make it more rewarding in the end. I get burnt out from training and then when I try to take time off afterwards, it’s agony.  So, back at it I go. Looking forward to Napa Valley Marathon in March. Bring on the winter training. Because #iamamarathoner

The week leading up to Boston 2019 looked very similar to the week before Boston 2018.  It found me obsessively checking the weather forecast, continuously running through outfit options in my mind, ordering rain gear online, making a list of everything I would need to stay warm on race day, and thinking of little else.  I was trying to live a normal life that week, but I failed. Everyone, from actual meteorologists to those in my Facebook Boston Buddy group, kept saying that New England weather changes in an instant. But, they said that last year too and the forecasted cold rain came to fruition.  On top of that, I had to worry about the snowstorm that was set to hit the Twin Cities in the middle of the week and pray that our flight would not be impacted. I kept telling myself reassuring things. Pack everything, prepare for all weather conditions, and then decide on Sunday what you’ll wear when the forecast will be most accurate.  Don’t worry about a Wednesday snowstorm when your flight isn’t until Saturday. Just pray that everything will be fine; these are things completely and absolutely out of your control. You’re tough and you know you can run in rainy conditions, and cold is nothing new. As late as Friday, 3 days before the race, the Boston Athletic Association was still warning of conditions similar to last year and even went as far as changing the start time for Wave 4 (the final wave) so they wouldn’t have to stand around in the conditions.  Friday was also the day I started feeling sick. The right side of my face and my ear felt funny, and my nose was running way more than it normally does. So early that evening, I finished packing, ate dinner, and went to bed.

On Saturday morning, I was still not feeling the greatest so the challenge was to make sure no one on the flight would sense anything.  A plane full of runners would not take kindly to an infectious person in their midst. No one invests 4 months of their lives training for a marathon only to get breathed on by someone who inconveniently gets sick three days out.  Our flight left on time (yay!) and I managed to make the 2 hour flight without blowing my nose or coughing. I was crossing items off the “Things to Stress About List” left and right. When we stepped outside of the airport in Boston, the warm air was overwhelming.  Overdressed and dehydrated, I felt as though the air was sucked right out of me. I told myself I didn’t have to run that day nor the next day. Just take things one moment at a time.

We passed the time on Saturday and Sunday with a variety of activities, from picking up my packet at the EXPO to shopping to attending Palm Sunday service.  We had dinner in The North End at Nico’s Italian Restaurant on Sunday night. After I was sufficiently loaded on carbs, we headed back to the hotel.

By now, it was acceptable to check the forecast.  I had been, of course, watching it all along and noticing that the rain chances were decreasing and the temperatures were increasing.  But now it was time to decide what I was wearing, what I was tossing, and what I could live without. I settled on my gear, set two alarms, checked and then re-checked them, and finally drifted off to sleep.  

Like last year, when race morning arrived, I awoke with a fierce determination.  After training through a tough winter, getting (as it turns out just slightly) sick days before, and worrying about the weather, it was time to stop whining and start running.  I got up, got dressed, put on some ridiculous looking gear to stay dry before the race, and Ubered to the buses (I would have walked the mile had it not been raining, promise). By now, the rain was predicted before and after when I’d be running.  Some forecasts were showing sunshine and 60s for the timeframe I’d be on the course, some showed overcast and 60s. I hoped for the latter.

I walked across the Boston Commons in the rain and was slightly wet by the time I boarded the bus.  I found an open seat next to a kind looking male runner, we exchanged pleasantries, and I almost sighed with relief when he took out a book to read.  For the next hour, I simply wanted to sit and relax (and eavesdrop on the conversation going on behind me between two gentlemen, one from Wisconsin and one from Toronto).  🙂

Arriving at Athlete’s Village in Hopkinton, I was prepared for chaos.  The good thing about doing the same race multiple times if you know what to expect.  It’s also the bad thing. The rain had stopped by now, but the grounds were still pretty soggy.  Not as bad as last year for sure, but still not desirable to walk through. Thankfully, I had on an old pair of running shoes and my new ones to change into before the start of my wave.  My time in the village went pretty well and a few minutes before they called Wave 3, I changed my shoes and tossed my garbage. Moments later, it was show time.

Once they call your Wave in Boston, there’s still about ½ mile to walk before you arrive at the official starting line corrals.  I showed my bib multiple times to prove I was where I was supposed to be. I stopped to use the porta potties again. I started shedding layers, which were clearly not going to be needed at all during the race.  It’s the final leg of the journey to arrive at the starting line. And then, I arrived. There was energy all around me, and I was feeling confident. It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t freezing. I didn’t seem to be sick.  Things were falling into place. And then our Wave started! I was so proud to be running my 3rd Boston Marathon. So very proud and honored.

I spent the first few miles reminding myself to start out slowly.  It’s downhill at the start and race veterans know to save something for the hills that come near the end of the race.  In addition, though I didn’t feel sick, my body was perhaps weakened- another good reason to be conservative. Plus, I didn’t go into the race with a particular finish time in mind.  Under 4 hours is always respectable to me, but just finishing was the top priority. Strangely, I wasn’t trying to get another qualifying time for next year. Multiple people had told me to try and take everything in and enjoy being part of the event.  I was sincerely making every attempt to do that for a while- observing the landscape of the rural towns along the route, appreciating the fans who came out to cheer us on, and feeling grateful for the opportunity to participate in such a prestigious marathon.  Then, the sun came out. I was wearing short sleeves and shorts, and thankfully I had applied sunblock to my face and neck. Around the same time, I felt as though I needed to use the toilet again. Even though I wasn’t necessarily focused on a certain finish time, I really didn’t want to have to stop along the way.  So, I decided to skip the next water station and figured that would help. Well, it did help in that one area but I soon realized the sun and warm temperatures were going to be an issue.

This is where I stopped savoring the moment and shifted into survival mode.  Perhaps 60 degrees and sun would not have posed a problem in August, after a few months of summer training.  But I hadn’t run in “feels like” 60 degrees and sunshine since September. The warm temperatures we’ve had in Minneapolis this spring were always accompanied by 30 mph winds.  I gave myself a pep talk, or should I say I gave myself one continuous pep talk the rest of the way- I had not come this far and overcome so many obstacles to be beat by the weather.  If I had to slow down, so be it. If I had to walk some, fine. Not finishing was not an option.

As the miles wore on, I tried to focus on looking up ahead instead of down at my watch.  At the aid stations, I would often take two cups of water. I’d drink one and pour the other one down my back.  It really made a difference, at least for a short time. Eventually, I started taking two cups of Gatorade and I would walk to make sure I took in enough of the liquid instead of spilling it all over myself.  No, I didn’t pour the Gatorade down my back; that would have been a terribly sticky mistake. At some point along the course, a firefighter had opened one of the fire hydrants which I happily ran through. Further along, a spectator had a hose and was spraying people.  These little things helped so much.

At the beginning of the race, I was getting passed almost non-stop.  You are placed in your starting wave/corral along with everyone else who ran the same time to qualify.  I noted that I was starting out at somewhat of a slower pace and thus I was perhaps in the way. That all changed when we got to the hills.  There’s a series of infamous hills through the town of Newton from miles 17.5 to 21, with the biggest of them all called Heartbreak Hill. As we approached the first of the hills, I saw some people walking.  It was hot and thus understandable that people would walk. Though I was not certainly not setting any pace records, I did manage to keep running. As the hills progressed, the number of people walking increased.  I was constantly getting boxed in or blocked out, and my frustrations were growing. I mean I do get it, everyone is simply trying to survive and keep moving forward. I felt badly for getting upset, but my level of patience decreases drastically in the 2nd half of the marathon.  Mentally, I sympathized. Emotionally, not so much.

I really don’t recall too many more details about the race, until we closed in on the final miles.  At certain markers, I’d equate the remaining distances to familiar training routes from back home as a way to make them seem achievable.  I remember seeing someone with a Boston Buddies sign around mile 24 (this is the Facebook group of which I’m a member). Not long after, I could see the Citgo sign up ahead, which signifies mile 25.  With it in sight, I started feeling more confident that I would finish. I lived for that last mile. All the work, all the obstacles, it was time to finally feel celebratory and savor the moment. I skipped the last aid station, and just kept focusing on that glorious finish line.  We went under an overpass with the words “Boston Strong” and it wasn’t long after that I saw the sign for Hereford. Right turn on Hereford, with the thunderous crowds lining the street and adrenaline pumping through my veins at full force. And what comes next is the thing you imagine during the grueling training runs and the challenging miles of the marathon course.  It is what runners dream of, whether it’s their 1st or 3rd or 10th Boston. It is what keeps you pushing forward. It’s why you never quit. That left turn onto Boylston Street. It’s then and only then that you can see the blue and yellow finish line up ahead. It’s where the crowds grow even louder and more jubilant. It’s where you witness scenes of heroism, athleticism, selflessness, sportsmanship, and grit.  All three times I’ve made that turn, it has taken my breath away. Each time, I gulp back a sob and fear I’m going to pass out. As in years past, I gathered my composure and then looked at the crowds. I neared the location of where I thought I’d find my family, and sure enough, I spotted Dan, Marianne, and Jim and gave them a quick wave. Then, I had one last goal in that moment. I needed to finish in under 4 hours.  I looked at my watch and figured I could do it. In fact, I made it with 35 seconds to spare.

Right after I finished, it began to rain.  Just as was predicted. I kept thinking how good that would have felt hours earlier.  I made my way through the finish area, received my medal, grabbed some water, and headed to PF Changs to meet up with the Hedins.  

I cannot express too often how extremely blessed I am.  Day-after-day, I get to use the gifts and abilities that God gave me.  I get to lace up my shoes and work towards my goals. Running brings me so much joy and such a sense of accomplishment.  Three times now, I’ve qualified for and completed the Boston Marathon. Each training cycle and each race was massively challenging but that only made the reward that much more satisfying.  I’m so incredibly thankful to have had these opportunities, and I pray there are many more in my future. In addition, I’m so appreciative all the kind words and support I receive from my family and friends.  Thank you for coming along on these adventures with me, for caring, and for making me feel so special.

#bostonstrong

I’m looking at the forecast for the upcoming week, and I see temperatures in the 40s, 50s, and even 60s by week end.  Dare I say it? I think we have done it, people! We have survived a very challenging winter and I think spring is here to stay!  Hooray! (Please note, I have no actual authority in forecasting the weather; I am simply choosing to be optimistic) 🙂

Winter 2018 brought us a little bit of everything, and I’m sure the memories are still very fresh in all your minds.  December was actually pretty mild and because I didn’t work that month, I was able to get outside and take advantage of the daylight hours, short as they were.  I went to Mill City Running and splurged on a pricey pair of wind pants and in doing so, I thought that would guarantee the mild temperatures would stay and I wouldn’t need the fancy pants.  Nope! With January came the cold. And not just COLD but record-setting, polar vortex COLD. Not to be outdone, February brought record-setting snow and then it was back to sub-zero temperatures to start the month of March.  I endure the harsh winter elements out of necessity; I’m not particularly fond of the added challenge (running is hard enough on its’ own). However, this year, I actually do feel quite proud of what I was able to accomplish. I logged some pretty challenging miles, both outside and inside on the treadmill, on legs that weren’t 100%.  Sometimes, the mental aspect was just as hard as the physical. With each new difficulty, I reminded myself that it was making me stronger. And I do feel tough. I feel ready for what lies ahead. Beyond that, I feel incredibly thankful that God continues to bless me with this amazing gift of running.

And with spring in the air, I feel energized!  I am very much looking forward to some more favorable running conditions.  I can’t wait to be able to step outside in just shorts and a t-shirt, lathered in sunblock (of course).  I can’t even imagine how fast I might be able to run with ONE layer of clothes, a clear trail, seasonable temperatures, and a warm breeze.  How joyous it will be to watch the brown turn to green and enjoy all the beauty around me!  So, fellow survivors, let’s rejoice! Let’s bid farewell to Winter 2018 and hello to Spring 2019. Here’s to many happy, healthy, and warmer miles ahead.

Happy Spring!

(originally posted as a Facebook post on 2/23/19)