Lifelong Runner

It’s that time of the year.  Time when we reflect upon the previous 12 months.  What were the successes we celebrated? Where did we fall short?  And what goals will we set for the upcoming year? For me personally, there was much to celebrate in 2018.  However, I certainly neglected to properly keep up with my blog. I guess I should really refer to this written documentation of my running career as more of a journal, one written in with no regularity or frequency.  There are many excuses, some of them are even good. But why dwell on the reasons for my absence instead of just getting back at it?!

2018 has been a good running year for sure, with lots of achievements and a few injuries sprinkled in to keep me humble.  My last post documented my adventures in this year’s Boston Marathon. That race is unforgettable for so many reasons, and I won’t soon forget the added challenges of this year’s event.  I took a week off after the marathon and got my foot checked out to make sure I didn’t have a stress fracture in my big toe. As it turns out, it was arthritis. So, I was relieved for the short term; we’ll have to wait and see what happens long term.  Anyway, since I didn’t have a broken toe, I signed up for Grandma’s Marathon.  It’s such a great race in such a beautiful city.  I really wanted to see if I could improve my 2019 Boston qualifying time since the course is a little flatter and I assumed the weather could not be worse than what it was in Boston.  As race day neared, there actually was again much talk about the weather. There were threats of rain and storms and officials had to prepare for what to do if there was lightning. I opted to not worry about it, figuring it would be okay.  Driving to the start, the sun actually made a brief appearance. What I didn’t know, until after I finished, is that I barely made it to the starting line. Jim and Marianne were kind enough to drive me to Two Harbors so I didn’t have to take the busses.  On the way there, Jim realized that one of his tires was going flat. He didn’t say a word; he knows me way too well. The light conversation in the car continued and only Jim knew what was happening. Once we made it to our destination, Dan took a quick pre-race picture and I got good luck hugs from everyone.  Off I went to run a marathon while Dan and Jim put on the spare, drove and got the tire fixed, and still managed to see me at several points along the course. The weather actually turned out to be great for running. I knew what my goal was, but wasn’t going to push myself too hard. I had, after all, run Boston exactly 2 months earlier.  Since I’m writing about this months later, I remember very little about the race. Shame on me for not documenting it sooner! Anyway, I do remember sticking with this group for awhile and eavesdropping on their conversation. One of the girls was still in high school and way too young, in my estimation, to be running that distance. I do know that after I let them go, I caught back up to them and I do know that I eventually would finish before them.  Is it sad that I was happy about that?! Anyway, Grandma’s was as enjoyable as always. I love the size of the field, running along the shores of Lake Superior, and seeing that glorious lift bridge and knowing it represents the finish. I finished in 3:42:19, giving myself a much bigger BQ time.

After running 2 marathons in 2 months, I figured it was time to reduce my mileage for a while and focus on some shorter races.  Dan and I ran the Torchlight 5K in July, which is during the Minneapolis aquatennial celebration.  It’s a fun race that weaves through downtown and finishes across the Stonearch Bridge in Father Hennepin Park.  Race participants celebrate their achievement with free beer and Chick-fil-A. Yes, it’s a healthy way to replenish energy and nutrients.  

In September, Dan and I headed to beautiful Ely for some quality family time at the cabin.  Worked into our mini fall vacation was a ½ marathon, one of the newer races in MN.  The weather had cooled rather drastically that weekend, after a blistering 80 degree mid-September day the previous Saturday.  We bundled up in order to stay warm before the race started. This event was awesome in so many ways. For starters, the bag drop truck at the starting area was a pick up truck, a sign reading “bag drop” propped up against it, and a tarp tossed over the back end to secure the bags en route to the finish line.  No need for multiple UPS trucks divided up by bib numbers. Nope. One pick up truck was sufficient for the number of runners in this event. To stay warm, we huddled around campfires. Gosh, I smile just reflecting back on it. It was such a great way to stay relaxed and calm before the race. As the time drew near for the start, Dan and I headed to the starting line.  When we arrived, I panicked when I didn’t see the mat we’d cross to record our chip times. I quickly brought it to Dan’s attention and he noted there would be no chip time, only a gun time. And then he reassured me by pointing out we were starting at the very front. There wouldn’t be a difference for us anyway. I felt sort of silly for not figuring that out on my own, but oh well.  I don’t think clearly before the start of races.

After the Star Spangled Banner was sung, we were off on our 13.1 mile adventure through scenic Ely, one of my favorite places on earth.  Given the small field of participants, I figured I would be running mostly by myself during a large portion of the race. I knew I’d have to rely on my Garmin to pace myself properly.  However, I didn’t want to get lost or take a wrong turn so I tried very hard to keep someone in sight for the duration. I also knew, and it’s okay if I say this because he knows, that I had to stay ahead of Dan.  He trained so hard over the summer and I knew his pace was improving. I tell him all the time, running is the ONE thing I can do better than him. I trained even harder to make sure it remained so. We were scared that he might not be able to run after suffering an injury during our last long training run the previous weekend (we think it was a muscle strain due to dehydration in the unbearable humidity).  However, he tried jogging before the start and it seemed all systems were go. During the race, I dared not look behind me, though, for fear of being mentally defeated if I could see him bearing down on me. As we neared the 10 mile spot, I could see Jim and Marianne up ahead. Thankfully, I didn’t see Dan standing next to them which meant he was still in the race and hadn’t dropped out at one of the planned spots.  Jim and Marianne cheered for me and I asked them how Dan was doing. Jim replied, “He’s doing great. He’s right behind you.” I gave a nod of approval, but all I could think was RIGHT BEHIND ME? Like if I turn around, he’s going to be right there? Clearly, I didn’t hear them cheering his name so I knew there had to be some distance. If there was any gas left in my tank, though, I knew I needed to use it. The next couple of miles were straight and flat with the wind at my back.  I summoned up my determination and worked my way through the remaining miles. My parents were stationed along Sheridan street in Ely, not far from the finish. Seeing them gave me a much needed shot of adrenaline to conquer the final hills and make the final push to the finish line. The course turned off the main street, down one block, and then back towards the park we had just ran past (yes, it’s hard running past the finish line and then circling back to it). I could see my Mom and Dad, and Jim and Marianne.  I crossed the finish line and went to watch for Dan. Not long after, I could see him approaching. He looked good, and strong, and not injured. In fact, he had this huge smile on his face and I was so proud of him. I might have found some competitiveness that was dormant for many years of my racing life, and I wanted to finish ahead of him. BUT, I was so happy to see him finish so effortlessly and I was so proud of him for his achievements.

After grabbing some post-race snacks, we checked the results and discovered that I had placed 2nd in my age group.  Since that’s something that rarely happens, I knew we had to attend the awards ceremony that afternoon. So, we headed back to the cabin in order to quickly shower, and then made the trip back into Ely.  We arrived just in time to see the first full marathon portage finisher. Another unique thing about this race is that you could sign up to run either the half or full marathon while carrying a canoe for the entire distance.  Seems crazy, doesn’t it? And the winner did it in under 5 ½ hours. It was truly a sight to see! I was in awe of his achievement.

Two weeks after the Ely excitement, Dan and I laced up our shoes again and toed the line for the Twin Cities 10 mile.  This race starts six block from our home in Minneapolis, and finishes at the Capitol in St. Paul.  It’s a lottery event, and we are always grateful when we get accepted into the event as we love participating in the TC marathon weekend festivities.  In the days leading up to the race the first Sunday in October, I was feeling some burnout. I had (and actually still have) this nagging hip/hamstring issue.  My training runs were a struggle. The fall season seemed to have skipped over us and our temperatures were unseasonably cool. I was, quite simply, just not experiencing the normal excitement and energy I normally do before a race.  We met Dan’s family for dinner the night before, per our normal tradition. Let’s just say that because of my burnout, I didn’t practice my pre-race discipline and indulged in some wine that I would later regret.

Race day was beautiful.  We found a friend at the starting line, someone we hadn’t seen in quite some time and it was fun to catch up for a brief moment.  Before we knew it, we were off on the “Shortcut to the Capitol”. I felt okay for a while and as is customary when running shorter races, I took off too fast.  I quickly discovered I would not be able to keep up that pace, so I slowed down just a bit. The miles wore on, and I was constantly being passed by people. And not just casually so.  People were seemingly sprinting past me, and my annoyance was growing. Did they show up late to the start, end up in the back, and were now trying to make up ground? Or was I just that slow on this particular day?  That 10 mile race seemed like a marathon to me. I think I realized halfway through that I should have played it more conservatively the night before. I told myself it didn’t matter if I didn’t perform perfectly every race, but in my mind I knew that I had mostly myself to blame.  I thought I could lack discipline and still race okay. How did I get that superior attitude? I deserved to be taken down a notch or two.

Anyway, the finish line was nearing and I looked down at my watch to notice that my pace was actually okay.  It was just uncomfortable and unenjoyable. It would all be over soon, I told myself, and tried to kick it in and leave whatever I had left on the course.  I crossed the finish line, slowed to a walk, and turned around. There was Dan. He was 6 seconds behind me. Again, he had this huge smile on his face. This time, I was a little less joyful to see him.  How in the world did that happen, I asked myself? Holy crap, Dan came dangerously close to beating me! We congratulated each other on our races, and he said to me, “you sped up”. He told me he had been close behind me for quite some time, and his plan was to catch me right at the finish and then slow up and let me finish before him.  I responded that he should never let me win, but that’s beside the point. He did SO great! And I realize that in recounting this the way I did, it appears that I am making excuses for myself. If there’s anything I despise, it’s excuses- especially from myself. I feel ashamed for taking away anything from Dan’s performance; I only wanted to recount the experience from my honest perspective and to learn from my mistakes.  Though he doesn’t keep track of all his race times, we’re pretty certain that was a PR for him. We know for certain he ran 2 minutes faster than the previous year, and even won a prize from Twin Cities in Motion for improving his performance from 2017 to 2018. It was quite the race, and quite the way to end the racing season.

So, as you can see, I was blessed with many accomplishments in 2018.  I also learned some valuable lessons. Looking back, I feel immensely grateful for being able to do what I love.  Even when things don’t always go my way, being able to train and compete makes me feel alive. All praise to God for giving me this gift.

As for 2019, I did make it into the Boston Marathon!  I actually got to register on the 3rd day of the process this year, and didn’t have to go through the grueling Week Two waiting game of finding out the cutoff.  Boston has already announced that they are lowering the qualifying times starting in 2020 as they had to turn away so many people the past couple of years. So, I will enjoy the privilege of running that race while I can.  With any luck, I will also be more diligent about keeping up this blog/journal in the new year.

This was a long post and if you read even part of it, thank you.  As always, I am humbled by the support of my family and friends. This thing I love is made even more special when those I love share in it with me.  Cheers to a happy 2018 and and even happier 2019.

It was a full week before Marathon Monday and I was already obsessively checking the weather.  How accurate, I debated, could they really forecast 7 days out?  It would change, right?  It had to! It couldn’t really rain on the Boston Marathon and it just certainly had to be warmer than mid-40s. I didn’t even notice what they were saying about the winds until Dan mentioned it.  It was all the talk on the Facebook training group I followed. I started to worry. I worried a lot. As the week went on, the rain chances were increasing not decreasing.  We departed Minneapolis on Friday, thankfully, as Minnesota was hit by an epic snow storm that began shortly after we left.  Had we stuck with our original Saturday travel plans, we quite possibly would have faced massive delays. It was breezy and cold in Boston all weekend long, and my dread about Monday’s weather was quickly turning to fear. I was very sincerely worried that I would not be able to run a marathon in the conditions they were now quite certain Monday would bring.  Couple that with long lines at the expo made even more miserable by technology crashing right as I was about to pay, to standing outside in the cold for 45 minutes waiting for the pasta dinner, and I was growing increasingly grumpy. My every thought was filled with what to wear, what to toss, and self-doubts about my training and abilities.

Thankfully, Monday morning finally arrived.  There was no more thinking, just doing. I put on nearly every layer I packed, and tossed what was left into my gear bag so I’d have something dry to put on at the finish.  Dan and I walked across the Boston Common to the bag drop. As we stood in the rain waiting to cross the street, I told him I could walk back to the busses alone and he didn’t need to come with me.  With hope in his voice, he asked if I was sure because he certainly would walk with me and see me off. I assured him that it was best if he found an establishment along Boylston Street from which to watch the coverage, eat, drink, and be merry.  (But not too merry that he couldn’t find me afterwards.) We confirmed our post-race meeting spot, said our goodbyes, and off we went in our separate directions. Since I knew Dan would be dry and happy, all I needed to worry about was myself.

As I stood in the line for the busses that would take us to Hopkinton, it started to rain even harder.  Luckily, the wait wasn’t too long. I boarded a bus and found an open seat next to a nice gentleman from New Jersey.  We passed the time with polite chit-chat, pausing to note how long the bus ride was taking. It’s rather intimidating, I stated, to realize we have to run back once he drops us off.  I kept looking towards the front to make sure the bus driver could see out the window. From the view in my seat, almost nothing was visible outside because the windows were all fogged over.  Eventually, I could tell we were getting close and it wasn’t long after that we pulled up to the Athlete’s Village. The rain had mostly stopped by this point and I had dried off a little bit during the bus ride.  Just as we stepped off the bus into the brisk air, it began to downpour again. Any hope that I had to stay even slightly comfortable until Wave 3 started disappeared.

My plan was to use the porta potties and then find a place to stay warm until they called my wave.  Unfortunately, the toilets were in the middle of a massively muddy field. Anyone that knows me would understand that I very nearly panicked, thinking there’s no way I’m going through that.  But, there really was no other choice. When I nearly lost a shoe in that awful mess, I was very glad I was wearing my old shoes and had brought my new ones along to change into right before the start.  I think I stood in the bathroom line for an hour. I struck up a conversation with the guy behind me and discovered he was on a bus that got lost and it had taken them over an hour to get there. I later found out that more than one bus got lost.  How that happens, I’m not really sure. When there’s a line of about 50 busses all departing at once, can’t you find at least one to follow? They are big and yellow and quite visible. Anyway, I was thankful to have been on one that made it on the first try to the start.  I was about 2 from the front of the porta potty line when they announced that runners in my wave could now make their way to the starting line. Only slightly panicked, because I knew I still had 30 minutes before Wave 3 started, I got into the porta potty and realized why it was taking everyone so long.  Working to pull up 5 top layers and pull down 3 bottom layers in a toilet that slanted backwards was not an easy task. I had wet toilet paper stuck to my hands and though I desperately wanted to use a Wet One and wipe them off before putting on my gloves, I realized it was rather pointless. Instead, I pulled on my plastic gloves and then my soggy cotton ones on over them.  It was supposed to be the other way around until the warmer ones got wet in route to the start. Growing increasingly anxious, I found a spot to change my shoes and discard my rain pants. I put on one last layer of chapstick, stuck my hotel key and Clif blocks in my pocket, and abandoned the rest of my stuff. There was no time for any further preparations.

After navigating back through the mud as carefully as possible now that I was in my dry shoes, I was on my way to the starting line!  I was actually starting to feel less anxious at this point. I remembered, from my 2014 experience, the rather long walk to the starting line.  People were continuing to shed layers, but I decided to leave a couple more on until I was just about to start and then peel the remaining top layers off during the race.  When I finally got to Coral 5 for Wave 3, I really didn’t have to wait much longer until we started. What relief those first few moments of the race brought. After months of preparation, training in the harsh winter elements, battling through a hamstring injury, and the endless stress about the current conditions, I was running the 2018 Boston Marathon.

Things actually got off to a fairly good start.  Before I knew what the weather would be, I wanted to try and run a 3:50, which meant 8:50/mile.  If I could achieve that, I would re-qualify with a 5 minute cushion. Considering the conditions, I told myself simply to run a smart race and be careful.  I was feeling good at the start and was running faster mile splits than I had expected. Occasionally, I reminded myself to slow it down and save something for the hills that would come later in the race.  It rained continually. Sometimes, it was just a light rain. Other times, it poured. I was one of the few people that wasn’t wearing a cap with a brim on it, so the rain was blowing right into my eyes a lot of times.  I kept wiping them, hoping I wouldn’t swipe away my contact lenses. I found myself running on the right side of the road, likely because I wanted to grab water at the stops with my right hand. However, that side of the road always seemed to have the larger puddles.  Needless to say, I spent a lot of time moving around the course trying to find just the right spot.

One of the biggest challenges I faced was simply the number of runners.  There were 7,500 runners in each wave and so I was constantly passing someone or being passed.  It’s difficult, because you don’t want to cut anyone off or get cut off. So many people were running in their ponchos which was really rather annoying.  I had to go that much further to get around their billowing rain gear and it got rather old by the end of the race.

As the miles ticked off, I actually found that I was enjoying myself.  I think I probably felt better running in the cold, wet weather of 2018 than I did in the rather warm conditions of 2014.  This time, I was better trained and more mentally prepared. I recalled asking Dan earlier this year if training in the harsh winters of MN better prepares you for Boston than the sunny, warm weather of the southern states.  His reply was, “It depends on what the weather is on Marathon Monday”. I thought about all those long runs in the cold and ice, and my last long run in Elgin in very gusty winds that reduced me to tears. Despite how much I complained about the weather all winter long, I was so much better prepared because of it.

I vowed to try and take in the race and remember more parts of this time around.  I so appreciated the crowds who endured the weather to cheer us on. When it would downpour and the winds would gust, the crowds would roar louder, as if to echo my thoughts of “bring it on”.  I saw a dog holding a Boston Strong flag in his mouth and donning a rain jacket. I saw Santa Claus. Really, it was Santa; I was not delirious. I smiled when I ran through the scream tunnel at Wesley College, though I noted that very few runners stopped for kisses from the coeds.  There were probably a thousand other things those girls wanted to do on Patriots Day than to stand outside in the cold rain, but they didn’t disappoint, nor did the weather dampen their enthusiasm. I watched the signs as we passed from town-to-town. I noted the police, military, and other security along the route.  Running in such conditions wasn’t exactly fun, but just standing in it had to be miserable. As we got closer to Boston, we started to encounter the hills. I listened as one runner encouraged another runner up a hill and then asked her if it was the famous Heartbreak Hill. They both thought it was. When we eventually ran up the actual Heartbreak Hill a short time later, I was so relieved.  I passed so many people who were walking but I knew once I made it to the top, the worst of the hills was over with.

At this point, I remember thinking “I’m doing this”.  Not only am I surviving, but I’m actually doing pretty well.  I tried not to focus on my overall time, but rather just concentrated on my pace.  My legs were tightening up, so I tried to take liquids at least at every-other mile.  I think it’s the first marathon where I never walked once, not even through the water stops.  Sure, that meant I poured half my drink on my shirt or had it go up my nose, but when you’re already drenched it really didn’t matter.

Though I had tried hard to commit to memory more of the race, a lot was a blur.  I keep trying to recall more of it, but it’s simply not coming back. What I do remember is watching for the famous Citgo sign, which signals mile 25 of the race.  Once it came into sight, I was ecstatic. I was certain I could make it then, and it was at that point I finally allowed myself to visual finishing. As I was approaching the sign, my legs suddenly seemed to seize up and I started panicking.  There was no way my legs could give out on me now, I was so close. Through my anxiety, I realized we were going slightly uphill. I talked myself up the incline, knowing that I’d recover on the downhill. Sure enough, things loosened up at the top and off I went in pursuit of the finish line.

From there, emotion took over.  My watch was about .25 ahead of the official markers, thanks to all my zig-zagging, but once I got close to the finish line it didn’t matter.  The rush of adrenaline from the cheering crowds carried me. I reminded myself that though I was trying to push harder, I wanted to enjoy and appreciate everything about getting this far.  “Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston” kept going through my mind. Hereford was littered with the ponchos that everyone suddenly discarded. I guess vanity finally took over and people wanted to look good for their finish.  I was wearing a buff on my head that I pulled off, but more so that Dan would notice me more easily (seriously). I successfully made it past all the debris on Hereford and made that left turn on Boylston. As I did, I had to choke back a sob.  Then another. The fans were screaming, the iconic yellow and blue finish line was straight ahead, and I was about to finish my 2nd Boston Marathon. I thought about giving a triumphant fist pump or some other display of emotion, but in the end, I decided to cross the finish line without any visible celebration.  My heart was full, that was enough.

Those first few moments after finishing a marathon are indescribably joyful; it’s a feeling that I wish I could hold onto to forever.  It’s the culmination of so much hard work, dedication, and sacrifice. Running a marathon is hard; running it in the cold rain with a strong headwind made the challenge all that more rewarding.  Because of the cold and possible onset of hypothermia, I walked quickly through the finish line chute. I collected my medal with great enthusiasm. The thermal wrap was almost as exciting a reward.  I took some water and some food, and then headed to get my gear bag for some much needed dry clothes. The gear bag pickup was a bit of a nightmare. There were not enough volunteers so runners were going behind the barriers and just grabbing their own stuff.  Some even had the nerve to just stop right there under the tent and change into their dry clothes, all while the rest of us waited patiently, still in the rain, and followed the rules. The volunteers eventually regained some order. I gave one a pleading look that tried to convey, “I’ve been standing here for 15 minutes and following your rules, so please help me so I don’t end up in the medical tent”.  Finally, someone took pity on me. Bag in hand, I set off to find Dan.

Our first spot to find each other was the PF Changs just down the street.  If we missed each other there, we were going to just meet at the hotel. I prayed that the delay with the gear bag didn’t mean that Dan left thinking he had missed me.  I didn’t think I would A) find the hotel without my phone for directions or B) make it that far without a glass of wine. When I saw his blue rain jacket through the window of the restaurant, I nearly wept with joy.  I got inside the warm establishment, used the bathroom to change into my dry clothes, and gave Dan my first of many race recaps over a glass of wine (okay, you’re right, it was two). By this time, I was also fully aware of my finish time.  To my great surprise, I finished in 3:48:56. A Boston Qualifier with a 6 minute and 4 second cushion!

As I’ve said before, Boston is a special city and the honor of running their marathon is unrivaled.  It’s a privilege to call myself a Boston Marathoner. By the grace of God, my body will allow me to continue running and I will consider myself blessed each time I can turn in a performance worthy enough of this prestigious race.

#bostonstrong #neverforget #togetherforward

 

According to the calendar, it’s still fall.  But, as I step outside into the cold, brisk air I can’t help but to fear that winter has already come.  The temperatures have been mostly below average for weeks.  I don’t remember the last time I saw the sun.  The leaves are pretty much gone from the trees.  It’s dark, seemingly all the time.  Yes, it seems I have the winter blues, a full month before winter officially arrives.

Coinciding with the arrival of this early winter is the departure of my motivation.  My marathon training starts in a month, but I can’t just sit around until then and then hope to be successful in my program.  And once I am officially in training, my gosh it will actually BE winter!  There will likely be snow on the ground.  It will be even colder.  And, it’ll still be dark.

I’ve considered my options for winter training.  Since moving to a warmer climate until April isn’t practical or possible, I guess I will need to find my motivation.  I must discover ways to battle the negative, unproductive thoughts that threaten to slow me down.  In my search, I have come up with a few possibilities.

Perhaps it’s time to update my running wardrobe and invest in some new, warmer attire.  I know that getting up (in the cold and dark mornings) to go to work is always a bit easier when I have a new outfit to wear.  Maybe that same thought process will help provide me with the encouragement I need to get out the door to train.  And, having proper clothing will also ensure that I stay warm and comfortable when battling the elements.

Misery loves company, as the old adage goes.  It might be time to stop thinking about joining some of the local group runs and actually do it.  Mill City Running offers them a couple of nights per week.  They occasionally end at a brewery and what’s more motivating than running to beer and warming up inside a cozy taproom?  Perhaps a warm Uber ride home to complete the evening would also be necessary.

During summer training, I rarely run with earbuds.  Partially for safety reasons, but I also don’t like having my phone strapped on my arm and I’m often too lazy to ensure I have something queued up to listen to.  However, I have found that it’s easier in the winter.  At least one of my layers normally has a pocket in which to put my phone.  My headband or hat keeps my earbuds firmly in place.  There are fewer people out biking and thus less likely to mow me down if I don’t hear them in time.  All makes for easier and safer listening enjoyment in the winter.  I think I might need to find a new audible book or even better, podcast!  I think there’s a new Serial coming out soon?!

There are of course, warm options available for the extremely cold weather days.  I am certainly not one of those diehards who brave the elements no matter how far below zero the temperature dips.  I can also only tolerate so much wind, ice, and snow.  When it’s necessary, I can run on the treadmill.  I don’t hate it as much as most people do.  However, I do hope to limit these runs to those under 10 miles.  In addition, I do have the option of running in the US Bank Stadium a few times this winter.  It’s no secret how much I love doing that!  Running through the concourse with the music blaring and a view of the football field is super enjoyable.  I especially appreciate looking out at the city skyline.  I am also fortunate to have my EXOS training classes to provide me with some cross training throughout the winter.  I’ve been going for nearly 11 months at this point.  Not since college have I felt this strong.  They have been so good to me at Mayo Clinic Sports Medicine and I sincerely look forward to each session.

For those days when none of the above options are viable, I can rely on my favorite coffee shop across the street from home to set me up with the most delicious post-run vanilla latte.  And for those extra brutal days that require something stronger, there’s also a liquor store nearby that carries all my favorite wines.  The key is to make sure that running happens first.  Going straight to the coffee shop or liquor store and skipping the run cannot become an option.  At least not on a regular basis.

So there you have it.  This is what I have come up with to help motivate me throughout the brutal winter months in Minnesota.  I’m really hoping that once I get started it’ll get easier each day and week.  Maybe I will grow to enjoy the added challenge that winter training provides.  And maybe, just maybe, the early arrival of winter means an early departure.  A girl can hope, at least.

When I ran a personal best and a Boston Marathon qualifying time at Grandma’s Marathon in June 2017, I knew there was no guarantee that I’d be accepted into Boston 2018.  Since they have to cap the field, the Boston Athletic Association (B.A.A.) has, over the past few years, had to determine a “cutoff” time for qualifiers.  In other words, they fill it with the fastest people and allow those who beat their standards by the most to register first.  The first two days of registration are for people 20 minutes or more under their standard, then those 10 minutes or more under get two days to register, and then those 5 minutes or more under get their chance.  If, after the first week, there are spots remaining, they open it up for anyone with a qualifying time to register.  

That’s where I come in.  The qualifying standard for my gender and age was 3:45.  I ran a 3:41:36, putting me 3 minutes and 24 seconds under the needed time.  Thankfully, the race didn’t fill week one and I was given the chance to submit my application and did so with extreme diligence and anxiety on September 18th.  I checked, rechecked, and checked again to make sure I had entered all the data correctly.  I hit submit, received my confirmation number, and then the waiting game began.  The B.A.A. was extremely good at keeping people updated via social media.  I went to their Facebook page, on average, 20 times a day to look for any indication as to when I’d learn my fate.  As the days wore on, it became clear that THE day would be Wednesday, September 27th- a full 10 days after I had completed the registration process.

I awoke with excitement, anxiety, and eagerness on the 27th.  I prayed, though I could imagine my Mom telling me there are far more important things to pray for, and prayed some more (sorry, Mom).  I tried to get a few things accomplished but, you see, the 27th was significant for another reason, too.  It was my birthday.  And, anyone who knows me knows that I love my birthday, even though I’m old enough that I should like it a little less these days.  I even requested the day off of work long before I knew the day would be THE day.  Good thing.  I took to checking Facebook every 15 minutes and reading the comments section from the post on the 26th to see if anyone else had received their notification.  Early morning, no update.  Mid morning, no update.  Finally, just before noon I decided I was going for a run as I needed a distraction.  I took my phone with, went outside and did some stretching, and opted to check ONE more time before I took off.  I was looking at the Facebook page again, thinking that maybe the B.A.A. would announce the cutoff time prior to sending out the individual emails with the acceptance/non-acceptance notifications.  As I was doing so, an email came in.  I quickly pulled down from the notifications and noticed it was the one I’d been waiting for.  My heart stopped and I frantically looked at it to determine if I was in or out.  The first word I saw was “Congratulations” and in that moment, I knew.  I WAS IN!  Without caring I was on a public sidewalk with tons of traffic, I began jumping up and down as tears sprang forth.  “I got in. I got in,” I repeated followed quickly by, “Thank you, God!”  I calmed down long enough to read the whole email, made the call to notify Dan, and emailed my Mom and Dad.

I savored every minute of my 4.5 mile run that afternoon.  With a tear-stained face, I smiled at random people who I’m quite certain thought I might be crazy.  The sun was shining and the scent of fall was in the air.  What a glorious day.

Following my run, I stopped at my favorite coffee shop for lunch.  I pulled my phone out and looked at the messages my parents had sent while I was running.  Then, I went back to the Boston Marathon Facebook page to find out what the cutoff was.  I sincerely hoped I had a bit more cushion this time.  For the 2014 race, I made the cutoff by 4 seconds with a slower time.  I felt confident I had given myself more breathing room this time.  I began reading the announcement, which was rather lengthy, and my eyes zoomed in on the words “Those who ran 3 minutes and 23 seconds faster than their age and gender qualifying times were accepted into the 2018 Boston Marathon”.  My heart stopped.  I felt instantly sick.  Are you kidding me?  I made the cutoff by 1 second?  I began to doubt that I was really in, but then remembered that I had the email confirming it.  I kept doing the math over and over in my head.  I really did make it, right?  They hadn’t sent me the email in error?  The feeling of barely making it and realizing my goal by the smallest margin possible is surreal.  I didn’t feel relieved.  I felt, well, sick is really the best word.  A race that covers 26.2 miles and took me over 3 hours and 41 minutes to finish, well there are many things that could have cost me that second and put me on the wrong side of the cutoff.  It really was too much to think about and to consider.  I decided that I needed to just be happy and thankful and honored.  There really was no room for any other thoughts.  As I have previously documented, when I ran Grandma’s Marathon, I was determined and focussed.  Every decision I made- to stop for water, go out of the way to run through a sprinkler, get vaseline- was calculated.  And, everything I did was to ensure I was able to run and finish the 26.2 miles.  Take one of those things out and sure I might have finished faster, but I also might not have finished at all if I had denied my body the things it needed.  I told Dan that I was considering giving him and his family this triumphant shout out as I neared the Grandma’s finish line back in June.  In fact, I spent considerable time thinking it over during the last few miles of the race.  In the end, I decided not to.  I remember telling myself, “If you make some obnoxious display of victory and then miss getting into Boston by a second, you will be really disappointed in yourself”.  I kid you not.  Unbelievable foresight.

As Dan and I set out that night to celebrate my birthday and my Boston acceptance, I was still slightly worried.  My name wasn’t showing up on the Entrants list on the website.  I knew that the site was uploaded in batches, but to truly feel comfortable, I really wanted to see my name on that list.  I kept checking, even though I knew the B.A.A. office was closed and it wouldn’t likely happen until the next morning.  Then, yet another detail fell into place when with a quick browser refresh, there I was.

It’s funny to look back and remember what a great story I had when I qualified for my first Boston by 4 seconds.  It’s a story that I love to tell, with precision detail.  I never dreamed that I would qualify again and then make it in by an even smaller margin, making for an even more remarkable tale.  It’s hard to believe that amateur marathon running can become a game of inches.  In the end, I have to remind myself that even though I just barely squeaked in, I shouldn’t allow myself to diminish the PR that got me there.  It’s still a good time, and I worked really hard for it.  There are just lots of talented runners out there, and I understand fully how blessed I am to count myself amongst them.  #BostonStrong2018

A couple of months ago, when Dan said he was interested in registering for a race, I knew just the one for him (and me, of course).  The Red, White, and Boom! Half Marathon is the perfect event.  It’s (very) early the morning of July 4th and starts and ends quite close to home.  Though there are some hills that add an element of challenge in miles 3-5, the second half is fairly flat and offers some nice shade.  The course follows the West River, Theodore Wirth, and Victory Memorial Parkways and the first and last couple of miles are along the river.  And, it’s put on by Twin Cities in Motion, which makes it a premier event in my mind.  

I did the race last year, so I felt confident recommending it to Dan.  In addition, it was great for me to have another event on the calendar following Grandma’s Marathon.  Dan trained diligently and we were both excited for race day.  We even signed up for the VIP package, which meant we had access to our own tent area afterwards with private porta potties, extra refreshments (including beer), and a fun commemorative gift.  

July 4th started off warm, and only got warmer throughout the day.  The dew points were also high, so we knew we needed to be cautious with our pace to avoid overheating.  At 6:30am, after celebrating our great nation with a trumpet rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, we were off!  Dan’s goal was to finish in under 2 hours.  I wasn’t quite certain what to expect from myself.  It was just over 2 weeks after my marathon, the weather was warm as previously noted, and I woke up that morning with a slight stomach ache.  Add to that my mindset that anything short of a marathon means go all out from the start.  I have done this time-and-time again, trying to run paces I am not equipped to do.  It makes for an uncomfortable race and inconsistent paces.  I challenged myself to have a different experience this time.  More than once, I reminded myself that 13 miles is still a long ways and, in the end, I didn’t want to end up sick with a full day of events planned.  So, I ran a few miles in that uncomfortable zone, trying to get away from certain competitors with annoying habits and hoping to find that right pace.  At about mile 5, after making it through the hills, I found my pace.  I also found my own private pacer.  

Unless I am running with someone I know, or occasionally a pace group as I did for a short time during Grandma’s, I normally run alone.  I have never buddied up with a complete stranger except for when we’re all crammed together during the early stages of the event.  After that, I’m most content when there’s adequate space between me and my competitors.  That all changed for me during this race.  I don’t recall quite how it happened, but at about mile 5, I noticed that I was keeping pace with this guy in a yellow top and sunglasses.  We were running side-by-side and I finally felt good.  We were maintaining about an 8:11 per mile pace.  When I felt myself take a quick step to get ahead of him, I slowed up.  Occasionally, I’d look at my watch.  Occasionally, he’d look at his.  For the most part, I just focused on the road ahead and enjoyed the scenery.  I assumed he was doing the same.  It dawned on me at one point that he maybe didn’t appreciate me keeping pace with him.  However, when he waited for me during a water stop, that’s when I knew I wasn’t bothering him.  We were using each other and the best part for me, though it sounds strange, was we didn’t talk.  We didn’t exchange pleasantries or comment on the weather.  I ran my race.  He ran his.  When it came time to pass another runner, I’d move over to give him space to stay with me.  We did it all without verbal communication; every ounce of energy was used for running alone.  

The miles ticked by and before I knew it, we were approaching mile 12.  A glance at my watch indicated we had slowed down a bit.  I had a decision to make.  Do I break the silence and encourage him to push harder towards the finish?  Do I silently break away and run my own race?  Do I stay with him and sacrifice my time?  At several points during this mental debate, I got a few steps ahead of him and slowed up for him to catch me.  Finally, I decided I needed to use whatever kick I had to finish how I wanted or else I’d likely regret it later.  He was a few paces behind me.  I looked back and said, “Do you have anything left for the last mile?”  He responded, “I really don’t”.  Then, he said to me, “Great race; thank you”.  I responded with the same and with that, I took off.  Our one verbal exchange made me so glad that I hadn’t just taken off without saying anything to him.  Afterall, he helped me as much I assume I helped him.

I was cruising along the parkway and fully ready to cross that finish line.  By now, there were a few more spectators out to cheer us on.  American Flags were blowing in the wind, and there was an exciting energy all around.  I did my best to “sprint” across the finishing mats, though I have never had anything that even resembles a sprint.  It just feels like it after 13 miles!  I turned around and looked for my private pacer, but I didn’t find him.  Just another very enthusiastic, very sweaty finisher who went to high five me.  He got a fist bump instead.  

Satisfied with my final time and thrilled with my experience, I went to look for Dan.  I knew he wouldn’t be far behind me and we had agreed to find each other in the VIP tent.  However, I truly wanted to see him cross that finish line.  I made my way there and watched for a few minutes.  Soon it became clear that I had missed him.  Sure enough, there he was as planned in the tent waiting patiently for me.  I was so happy to see him.  And best of all, he finished well under his goal!  Normally, he listens to me recap my race but this time, we both had stories to share.  We enjoyed our VIP experience, especially the refreshing beer, and then walked home.  As we were just about to our building, I saw a guy cross the sidewalk ahead of us.  He had on a different shirt by now, but I’m fairly convinced it was my private pacer.  Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again.  If they do, I’ll be sure to ask his name next time.  

In the end, the Red, White, and Boom! Half Marathon was a great experience for both Dan and I.  For me, there’s no better way to start any day, especially a holiday, than with a run.

As I made my way to the Grandma’s Marathon starting line in Two Harbors on Saturday, June 17th, I was feeling confident.  I had followed an aggressive 18-week training program with high mileage, and I had attended a weekly strength training class at Mayo Clinic Sports Medicine.  Stretching was now a regular part of my warmup.  More protein, fruits, and vegetables had found their way into my diet and cutting back on sugar was a priority.  All but a handful of my training runs had gone well.  I felt strong and competitive.  Above all else, I wasn’t injured.  I was poised to have a good race and I prayed everything would align to allow me to do so.  

I found my spot in the starting chute, comfortably behind the 3:45 pacer.  My ultimate goal was to break 3:45 to have the chance to get into next year’s Boston Marathon.  If I kept him in sight for the first half, I could feel things out and then adjust my pace as necessary from there.  After the pre-race announcements, the National Anthem, and plenty of waiting, it was finally 7:45am.  Finally, the horn sounded and off we went!  It was a packed start, so much that people were tripping over each other.  I found myself wishing I had started a little closer to the pace group for fear they’d take off and I’d be trapped.  Soon, I realized they weren’t going anywhere fast as they were also body-to-body.  Eventually, I worked myself up to the group.  Everyone was pretty low-key.  There was a little chit-chat but mostly just focused running.  Thankfully, there were no crazy antics going on.  In fact, sometimes it was so quiet all you heard was the sound of shoes striking the pavement.  It was peaceful and mesmerizing.  

My biggest challenge early on was holding myself back.  I needed to maintain an 8 minute 35 second per mile pace.  Running with the pace group meant I didn’t need to look constantly at my watch to know where I was at.  I could just enjoy the scenery and appreciate the race.  The problem was, I felt good.  Really good.  It seemed as though I was just jogging to keep up with the group.  I warned myself to not get too carried away too soon.  Remember, I reasoned, 26.2 miles is a long way.  Hold back now to ensure you can run comfortably later on.  The self-talk worked.  For a little while.  Eventually, I looked down at my watch which showed we were running 9 minute pace.  On top of that, everyone was still so packed together and running into each other.  It was in that moment that I decided to make a move as we approached mile 5.  I didn’t actually doubt the pacer was going to be on target; I just needed an excuse to be bold.  With a few quick strides, I moved ahead of the pack and positioned myself as best I could in the shade.  What was supposed to be a mostly cloudy day had turned mostly sunny, so I needed to try and stay in the shade as long as it lasted.  The new plan was to run just ahead of the group and not make any drastic moves at that point in the race.  And so I carried on through the next few miles, feeling good and trying to maintain my focus.  It was too early to start celebrating a PR.  It was far too soon to start thinking about the glory of the finish line.  I knew by looking at my watch that I was a little bit under my goal pace, but I didn’t dare turn around to see how far back the pacer was.  At one point, a spectator started cheering for the 3:45 group, and that’s when I realized I truly had stayed just in front of them.  They really were only seconds behind me.  I was morally defeated just a bit, thinking I had managed a little more of a cushion and was going to beat my goal.  Somehow, I don’t really know how, I shook it off.  I didn’t get down on myself.  More importantly, I didn’t let them get ahead of me.  Not then, and not for the remainder of the race.  

There are so many things about the race that I don’t remember.  It was truly one of the few races where I was so inside my own head that I didn’t notice many of the things that often bother me.  If other runners spit too close to me or cut me off trying to run the tangents, I didn’t notice.  If spectators blasted horns in my face or banged cow bells in my ears, I was oblivious.  In fact, I was probably one of the more annoying people on the course.  To slow myself down at times, I’d position myself behind someone running a slower pace and stay there until I was back on track.  At times, I might have gotten a little too close and was glad that I didn’t trip anyone up.  Before I knew it, I was at mile 13 and nearly halfway done.  Just another half marathon is what I told myself.  

By this point, I was feeling the effects of the heat.  My hips were tightening up, likely due to dehydration.  Instead of running through the water stops and getting just a couple sips of liquid in me, I needed to walk and try to get some electrolytes down.  It worked well enough to keep me moving forward.  I didn’t want to make it that far and then tighten up to the point where I’d need to slow way down.  When sponges were offered at the water stops, I’d take one and squeeze it down my back and wipe my arms.  If spectators had sprinklers set up, I’d run through them if it didn’t mean running way off course.  

Before I knew it, I was at Lester River, the 19 mile mark, and I spotted Dan and Jim off to my left.  I was happy to see someone I knew and I gave them the thumbs up.  Things were on track; I was doing fine.  Not long after that, the rest of the Hedin family was cheering along the right side of the road.  Another burst of adrenaline.  All continued to go well and my dreams of breaking 3:45 and setting a PR didn’t seem so far off now.  Just before Lemon Drop Hill, I spotted Paul and Amy and seeing them gave me the energy I needed to make it up the hill.  As I passed people walking up it, I told myself this hill is way easier than that hill I’d trained on along the West River Parkway.  You’ve got this, I said.  And I truly believed myself.

I was now running along spectator-packed streets and trying to soak it all in.  Still, all I really remember is maintaining my focus.  There was still enough time for things to fall apart, and I worked as hard as I could to ensure that didn’t happen.  I faintly remember the people, the signs, and the balloons that marked the miles.  What I do recall most vividly is at mile 24, Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” was blasting from a speaker.  The unofficial anthem of the Boston Red Sox gave me a surge of energy.  It was a sign.  I knew now that finishing under 3:45 was going to happen and I let myself focus on it.  The only question was how far under could I get?  Afterall, just making the standard isn’t necessarily enough to get into the Boston Marathon.  They still cap the field and take only the fastest runners.  Last time, I got in by 4 seconds.  I couldn’t be content to just get there at this point.  It was time to dig even deeper.

As my legs got tired, I was extra careful not to trip on the cobblestones of Superior Street.  Falling down physically or mentally was not an option.  While I watched my feet, I also tried to look ahead and visualize the finish.  I was getting close.  As mile 25 approached, I made the decision to forgo the water stop.  I figured I could make it one more mile and I’d save myself a few seconds of time by not walking.  Not surprisingly, the last mile seemed to stretch on forever.  We made a turn towards the lake, circled the William A. Irvin, and finally made the turn onto Canal Street.  Now fully aware that I’d be minutes under 3:45 and also setting a PR, I was overwhelmed with emotions and started to hyperventilate.  I quickly got my feelings in check, telling myself how ridiculous it would be to pass out before the finish because I was so excited to finish.  I guess I needed one last pep talk to make it the full 26.2.  My family was there to cheer me on.  I gave them a quick wave to acknowledge I saw them and then used everything I had left to propel myself across the finish line.  Now, I was partly crying and partly trying to catch my breath because I allowed the emotions of the moment to take over.  I had done it!  3:41:36.  A 1 minute and 42 second PR.  I was 1233 out of 6443 overall runners, 300 out of 2934 women, and 32 out of 374 women in my age group.

I collected my medal, finisher shirt, gear bag, some water, and a few snacks.  Then, I made my way to the family meeting area to find my family.  A fresh set of tears sprang forth as I gave them a sweaty embrace.  I excitedly gave them a recap of my race, one of the many times they’d listen to it over the course of the day.  Eighteen weeks of hard work and determination had paid off in the most rewarding way.  We enjoyed a couple of beers in Canal Park before making our way to the car.  I didn’t want that moment to end, and I wish I could have bottled it up to preserve it forever.  Thinking back on it now, I can’t help but to smile.  And tear up, naturally.  

Now, all I can do now is hope that beating my standard by 3 minutes and 24 seconds is good enough to secure a spot in the 2018 Boston Marathon.  No matter the outcome, I know I left it all out on the course.  Every decision I made during the race was strategic as I positioned myself to finish strong.  In the end, I was able to PR 15 years after running my first marathon and beating my previous PR from 5 years ago.  Grandma’s Marathon, and particularly my 2017 experience,  will always hold a special place in my heart.  I am so very blessed.  

 

In 10 days, I’ll be toeing the line at the 41st annual Grandma’s Marathon along with over 8,000 other runners.  That means, with each passing moment, my anxiety is notching up another level.  I can find countless things to worry about and obsess over, even more than usual.  So instead of writing about my worries leading up to the race, I have decided to shift my focus.  I realized that the month of June is pretty great for more reasons than just this one race.  The other 29 days of the month have much to offer as well.  With that said, here are 6 reasons why I love June.

End of School:  Kids everywhere are marking their last day of school with triumphant shouts of joy!  Just like the song says, “School’s out for summer!”.  Even though it’s been a long time since I have celebrated the end of the school year with the same enthusiastic spirit, I have carried those fond memories with me.  How fun was it to clean out your desk and locker and load up your bookbag one final time for the year?  Who can forget that industrial cleaning smell that hung in the air after everyone wiped down their desks and surfaces?  And how about “Chef’s Choice” on the lunch menu?  Afterall, it wasn’t only the desks that needed to be emptied out before summer.  The last day of school was often a daylong party full of laughter, outright silliness, and making plans for the summer.  I was lucky to live close to many of my childhood friends, so instead of saying goodbye, we simply made plans to hang out the next day.  June meant the start of summers in small town Elgin, and I recall them with much affection.  

Good Weather for Outdoor Activity:  As Minnesotans, we all know that summers here are beautiful but way too short.  Once the April showers move out and the warm weather moves in after (but never on) Memorial Day, we are fully ready to get busy enjoying our nice weather when the calendar flips to June.  Then, it’s pack in as much outdoor activity you can while it all lasts.  Enjoy being outside in shorts and a t-shirt.  Float down the river or on a lake.  Take a bike ride.  Walk in the park.  Explore the great outdoors and all the wonderful nature we have in this beautiful state.  

Festivals Galore!:  How great is festival season?!  Seemingly every city or county in the state has one, and my small hometown is no exception.  Elgin Cheese Days is still going strong, though the town hasn’t made cheese in decades.  That doesn’t stop everyone from coming together for a big celebration the third weekend in June every year.  Now, I don’t always make it back home for this annual event, as it almost always falls the same weekend as the marathon that we aren’t focussing on right now.  However, when I do, it’s always a joy to run into old classmates and friends and see the town come alive with softball tournaments, a carnival, concerts, and, of course, a parade.  

In Minneapolis, there’s a festival every weekend and everything gets underway in June.  There are art fairs, outdoor concerts, beer fests, county fairs, and countless other celebrations to mark the city’s rich and diverse culture.  Did I mention the farmer’s markets, boat cruises, water-ski shows, and bike tours?  You truly don’t need to go far to find entertainment and enjoyment, making our city and state staycation worthy.

Father’s Day:  I am lucky enough to have a fantastic father who is truly worth honoring on this special day.  Whether we get to spend the day together or not, I love finding special ways to acknowledge my dad and all that he means to me.  I also have a pretty great father-in-law, so this holiday is quite significant for me and my husband.  It’s important to us that we make sure our dads know how much we love them and how much we appreciate all they do for us.

Baseball Season is in Full Swing (pun intended)!:  By the time June rolls around, teams have hopefully worked out the kinks in their lineup and have started to work together cohesively.  With any luck, they have a strong starting rotation, are getting hits and scoring runs while avoiding errors, and are keeping themselves alive with hopes for a post-season.  For us fans, it’s finally nice enough to sit at the outdoor ballpark and enjoy America’s pastime without multiple layers.  We can, at long last, enjoy a cold beverage as we bask in the summer sunshine.  We can leisurely enjoy our food instead of hastily consuming it before it gets cold.  It really doesn’t get much better than baseball in June at Target Field.

Family Birthdays:  Some pretty special people in my life celebrate birthdays in June.  The month always ends with my brother’s big day on the 27th followed by my mom’s on the 30th.  Now that I think of it, my little brother will be celebrating a milestone birthday this year.  How can I litter his lawn in London with pink flamingos to mark the occasion…..???

So there you have it.  There is so much more to love about June than just Grandma’s Marathon.  I feel so relaxed and peaceful and I have enjoyed this little distraction.  Here’s hoping you all have a great month.  I will, of course, let you know how the race goes next Saturday!  #gmas17 here I come!

Okay, so I’ve had this 90s Mariah Carey tune in my head all day.  No, it’s not because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.  (I’m so not into Valentine’s Day, even though I did pick out my gift online and ask my husband to order it for me; I can’t let the day go by completely unnoticed.)  Rather, my emotions are tied to several other exciting things happening for me this time of the year.  

Before I get to the good stuff, I have to say that I started off this day feeling rather guilty about how horribly I ate yesterday.  I would be embarrassed to document my food intake as you would notice it barely contained a single vegetable or fruit.  That vegetable, if it can be called that, was a “mashed potato casserole” from a BBQ establishment and that fruit was a few measly raisins in the cereal I ate for dinner.  Wait, does wine count since it’s made from grapes?  No?  I thought not.  Anyway, today was much improved.  I upped my fruits and vegetables to three servings each, enjoyed plenty of dairy, a handful of cashews, and tried to properly hydrate.  Sure, I had a coffee energy drink this afternoon and I might be snacking on something cheesy and greasy while I write this post.  Few people are perfect in their healthy eating habits, and I will never be.  Life is too short not to indulge.  However, moderation is most definitely the key, a lesson that was reinforced yesterday.  

Despite my lousy diet on Sunday, I was able to run well this morning as I officially started my training for Grandma’s Marathon 2017!  Can you tell how excited I am?  I have been anticipating this day for months.  After not doing a marathon last year, I am beyond ready to take on the challenge this year.  I will be following an 18 week program by Hal Higdon, Minnesota’s own running extraordinaire, with the hopes of making it to Duluth on June 17th injury-free.  

Thanks to my EXOS performance training sessions at Mayo Clinic Sports Medicine, I am beginning my marathon training program feeling a little stronger than usual.  I’ve been through 6 sessions so far, and despite the enormous embarrassment I’ve experienced each time due to my lack of strength and coordination, I feel that I’ve made some improvements.  I know I can’t undo decades of ignoring my core muscles in such a short period of time, but little-by-little I will get better.  It’s very motivating to work hard and push myself as I understand this is a key factor in preventing overuse injuries.  Luckily for me, Mayo Clinic hires very patient trainers who provide lots of encouragement and don’t laugh at my incompetence (at least not to my face)!  

Then there’s this fantastic weather!  I know I’m not alone in feeling very thankful for what feels like an early spring.  I would not complain if it stayed like this for the duration of the winter.  Like a lot of you, I’m certainly hopeful that we’ve been through the worst of the season and we can avoid the white stuff from here on out!  With the warmer temperatures and ability to run at the UB Bank Stadium a few times over the past couple of months, I’ve been able to avoid the treadmill a bit more this winter and retain my sanity.

Finally, I’m feeling very optimistic about my volunteer coaching role that will start next month.  I recently completed some online training and have gained an appreciation for how in-depth of a program it is, and will further that training in person next week.  I think this is going to be a great adventure for me, and I am eagerly looking forward to being involved with this girl-centered program.  

So there you have it- the emotions behind my generally good mood.  Now, if I could just get the tune out of my head because it’s really not one of my favorite Mariah Carey songs.  And whether you are a fan of Valentine’s Day or not, I wish you all a love-filled day tomorrow.

I did it.  I really did it!  This week, I made progress towards one of my 2017 resolutions, and I’m super excited to talk about it.  This is something I’ve been meaning to and needing to do for quite some time.  Though it includes plenty of anxious moments, some embarrassment, and a few laughs, this experience was totally worth it and I’m so grateful I didn’t back out of it.  

I had the opportunity to participate in a complimentary performance training session with Mayo Clinic Sports Medicine.  The program is called EXOS and it offers individually designed programs for all ages and levels of athletes, from youth to professional and all of us in between.  It is used for weight loss, weight gain, strength training, and performance improvement for basically any sport.  I wasn’t entirely sure what the complimentary session would include, and truthfully, was really expecting more of a consultation and sales pitch.  To be fully prepared either way, I dressed in my workout attire and walked the 1.5 miles to the clinic for my warmup.  Checking in was simple; all they needed was my name, which made me all the more convinced this would be mostly conversational in nature.  If they were going to have me engage in activity, surely they’d want me to sign a waiver, right?  Nervously, I sat in the waiting room and hoped I wasn’t wasting my time.  Not long after, my name was called and I met the trainer, Adam.  He asked me how I got to them.  I thought it was curious he wanted to know my mode of transportation and while I would have proudly said “I walked here!”, I realized he wanted to know how I found out about them.  Relieved that I had paused to consider his question, I said that it was a promotion offered to Twins Season Ticket holders.  Embarrassment avoided, for the time-being.

Adam led me back to the training area, past all the offices where I thought I would be taken, and pointed out the locker room.  He indicated that I should leave my jacket and handbag in a locker and meet him and the others at the far end of the facility once I had done so.  The others?  This wasn’t one-on-one?  Was that good or bad?  I wasn’t yet sure.  I did as instructed and found my group.  After introductions, Adam pointed out my mat and instructed me to begin foam rolling my quads.  Okay, so they knew my first name and that was it.  Did they want to know why I was there?  Or what about my current state of fitness or my goals?  Were they at all worried that I’d injure myself with the foam roller?  Because if anyone could do that, it would be me.  I didn’t say anything.  I wanted to appear confident and strong, so I got down on the mat and started foam rolling.  After fumbling through something that should come easily, it was time to stretch the quads.  If you’ve read my previous posts, you know that I don’t stretch too much.  Apparently, quad stretches have changed dramatically since I last did them.  I was laying on my back grabbing one leg with one arm and using my other arm to grab the opposite foot, and then I was somehow supposed to lay back far enough that both shoulders were touching the ground.  Remember, Adam doesn’t yet know anything about me.  He doesn’t know I’m an inflexible distance runner.  I did the best I could, but he had to explain the position to me more than once.  He eventually said “good job” so I must have gotten it right, or he was just tired of explaining it to me.  Either way, I felt like a pretzel and was convinced I was going to tear a muscle trying to stretch it.  I kept up the positive self-talk, telling myself I needed to do these things to become a stronger and healthier runner.  Eventually, Adam sent the others off to do a separate exercise at which point he asked me if I worked out much (apparently, it wasn’t obvious).  Finally, my chance to explain my pathetic flexibility and what I had hoped to achieve by being there.  Once he knew that I was a distance runner, he understood my situation a little more and of course, he had already identified my weak core muscles.  We talked a little more about my goal of running Grandma’s marathon this summer and avoiding injury during the 18-week training program.  I was starting to feel more comfortable.  The others had finished their vertical climb and joined the conversation as well.  Things were improving.  I was ready to do this.  

We moved to an upper body exercise with medicine balls.  This one was tough to screw up, and it felt good to do something correctly on the first try.  I have been trying to incorporate some upper body strength training lately, so I felt more confident with this activity.  Then, it was back to legs and balance work.  Difficult?  Yes.  Done perfectly?  No.  Felt the burn?  Definitely.  

Little-by-little, I gleaned more information from the others.  The sessions were 1 hour and 15 minutes.  Some of them attend several times per week, others just once.  They all seemed to love coming and spoke of the progress they have seen and the improvements they had made.

More arm work followed.  Then some squats and a little ab work.  More stretching.  Gosh, I was getting sweaty and tired and I felt so great!  The people seemed so welcoming and happy and engaged me in conversation during each crossover.  The facility was beautiful, not to mention clean.  Any time I did something right, I felt immensely proud.  I was also not afraid to ask for help when needed.  It was embarrassing to be sure, but I also know how easy it is to injure yourself when doing something wrong.  I lost my balance on more than one occasion and was more than happy to notice that Adam was assisting someone else at the time.

The end of the session was nearing and it was time for some aerobic work.  Finally!  We hopped on the stationary bikes and I was thrilled.  I might have been ages behind the others in the strength training and balance work, but I could hold my own on that bicycle.  What a great way to end the session.

I was already sold on signing up when I found out about one last perk.  Each session ends with a smoothie!  Participants in the program also meet with a dietician to identify their pre and post performance nutritional needs.  Since I hadn’t done this yet as a trial member, I was the lucky recipient of a standard fruit smoothie.  I cannot tell you how good that tasted.

The others left and I talked to Adam about the registration and intake process.  Then, it was time to head out.  Smoothie in hand, I would have skipped home in pure joy and satisfaction if my lower body hadn’t been so sore.  Instead, I settled for a brisk walk.  I wonder if I was actually outwardly smiling.  People in the skyway were looking at my peculiarly, but it could have been my flashy and wild tights that stood out in the lunchtime crowd.  

I am so proud that I took action towards this necessary goal.  This year, I will invest in preventative measures versus rehabilitation care.  It’s been a couple of days since my session, and I can still barely walk down stairs and I can’t sit down or stand up without grunting in pain.  But let me tell you, it’s the best pain the world.  I can’t wait to go back.  

Thankfully, it appears that we survived the first bitterly cold snap of the winter.  For the better part of four days, I was not courageous enough to venture outside unless it was critically necessary.  Instead, I preferred to sit with a hot beverage and a cozy blanket in the warmth of my home.  Occasionally, I would glance out the window and see someone running or biking on the trail.  Part of me envied their dedication; the rest of me thought they were foolish.  I was born and raised in Minnesota, so I truly don’t know how I got to be so wimpy.  During my self-imposed house arrest, I spent a lot of time reflecting on 2016 and making resolutions for 2017.  These thoughts warmed me inside and out and lifted my spirits.  Given that the new year is just around the corner, I thought I’d share these reflections and resolutions with you.  

The year 2016 was full of accomplishments.  I successfully competed in several races, including two half marathons and even a couple of 5Ks, a distance I hadn’t done in years.  In March, I started this blog, which has been such an enjoyable and satisfying endeavor.  I’m not your typical blogger as I write posts with varying frequencies, but it’s been so exciting to document my running career and share it with anyone who’s interested.  I truly appreciate all the positive feedback I’ve gotten from my readers, and I wanted to extend a heartfelt thank you to all!  One of my biggest accomplishments of the year was the Prediction Walk/Run that I coordinated for my condo building neighbors.  It was so worth all the planning and preparation to see everyone enjoy themselves on a beautiful fall evening.  So, 2016 was a great year and I resolve to make 2017 just as great or better.  Here’s how I intend to do that:

At the top of my list is participating in the 41st annual Grandma’s Marathon on June 17th.  It was really hard not competing in this distance in 2016, but my body needed a break from the mileage.  My training will start in February and I’m praying that it’ll go smoothly and without injury.  I’m so excited to return to Duluth for this event and with lots of preparation and a little luck, I’ll do my 7th marathon.

Since moving to Minneapolis and leaving my coaching job in Plymouth due to the commute, I have really felt a void.  Therefore, in 2017, I’m resolving to make a return to coaching.  Just last week, I submitted my application to coach with a local non-profit group for girls in grades 3-8.  It’s a 10 week program which concludes with a 5K race.  I’m very excited to volunteer with this organization and help these girls develop confidence and and a love of running.

In 2016, I joined the Mill City Race team.  Though I competed in several of the circuit races donning my fabulous race singlet, I wasn’t very committed to participating in workouts or group runs.  I’ve been giving this some serious thought for 2017, and I really think I need to give it another try.  Signups start in January.  I want to resolve to be a better team member and also take advantage of the perks of being on a team again.  Hopefully, I have a few PRs left in me, and training with the team will definitely provide the push I need to achieve them.

Every year, I resolve to do something other than just running.  Normally, that includes strength and cross training.  I definitely did better in 2016, but as always, there’s room for improvement.  I need to remain committed to caring for my whole body, not just the few muscles used for distance running.  In addition, stretching needs to be part of my regular routine, not just when injury threatens or has fully set in.  Finally, I am starting to believe in the benefits of massage.  I had my first massage in over 15 years this past October.  It’s hard to determine how beneficial it was as I had just taken several weeks off from running and gotten new shoes; however, it certainly didn’t do any damage.  Keeping my muscles limber and knot-free will help prevent injury, so I very well might become a regular customer.

In 2017, I look forward to once again coordinating the Prediction Walk/Run for my building, and I certainly hope to increase participation.  I think I can build upon the success of this year’s event and maybe add in a few new things as well, with the help and support of our social committee.  I’m so lucky to live in such a great building with wonderful neighbors who enjoy socializing and exercising with each other.  I’ll be wearing my walk/run t-shirt and promoting the event all year!

Finally, I most definitely resolve to continue my Lifelong Runner blog in 2017.  As noted earlier, I have thoroughly enjoyed writing these posts, even if I don’t do so as regularly as I’d like.  I will work to think of creative and fun topics about which to write, while also continuing to document my training and racing.

I know it’s best to keep the list of resolutions short so they are achievable, so I will end the list there.  Once again, thank you to my loyal readers and supporters for all your comments and encouragement.  I certainly hope that 2016 was as good to you as it was to me, and I pray that 2017 brings you more blessings and happiness.

Be safe out there and stay warm.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  See you in 2017!