Walking the Line

In life and sport, there are those that stay within the perimeters of what is set, what is comfortable, and what is safe. In road races, these are the people that will start the race nice and easy to warm-up...they will probably gradually build to a steady pace that they will be able to finish in. They will probably never throw up after a race or pee themselves. They also will probably nevcr make a silly race mistake by testing the limits...meaning they won't ever fail, they won't hit the wall, and it also means, they probably won't have that one moment when they do something unbelievable-beyond what they really should be capable of..defying the odds of their ability.

I walk the line..sometimes coming too close & sometimes too aggressively. With running, I have made the mistake of bursting out at the start and failing miserably in the race later when I bonked. I've thrown up after, and most definitely peed as I sprinted across finish lines. I've also burst out & actually come out a winner, prize and all. And many times, I've ended up not happy with my time, knowing I might have had a little more in me. That is what can be difficult to  determine...where is that line? At what point is it too much, too reckless, too aggressive....

In my past self as a coach & as a player...I'v been carded, fouled out...spoken to by the powers that be...and also, complimented and praised for my intensity and drive by the very same people. I always have good intentions; Bobby Knight I am not...but yes, I've pushed my players and the players around me to be the best they could be...no different than the way I push myself.

I do struggle sometimes with knowing my boundary...how hard & how close can I get to the line to pull off the win, to be the best that I can be so that if I lose, I went down with a fight & if I win, I won and I am spent...

Sometimes, being this aggressive, is too close...red cards are handed out, people foul out, people get written up, pulled in for a talking to...you name it...and other times, it sets the tone for a W.

Last night, at my daughters' basketball game...it all started to make sense, in life and sport. One of my girls is just like me...a fierce competitor to the end.  She did walk the line last night...getting extremely physical, racked up a bunch of fouls...but no one scored on her...not on her watch. And at one point, she even took it too far & may have pushed someone incidently/accidently after being knocked down. I pulled her aside on the bench & encouraged her to keep up the intensity but I also gently reminded her of the rules...the perimeter...the line that she cannot cross...hoping this would not discourage her intensity & focus to pull off the win.

That's when it hit me...in life and in sport, I will always be the person that comes close to the line...I'm a competitor...I don't know how to soften up and just let things take their course naturally. I try to make things happen. I might occasionally need the slap on the wrist, the mid-race barf or the yellow card to remind me of that line... I will apologize if I cross the line and take it too far, but I won't apologize for being me...a competitor to the end.

Gym Mom

In a nutshell, my Wednesday looked like this: alarm goes off at 5:15am so that I can get to the gym and get a workout in (contrary to the belief, that those of us who work in the fitness industry, no we do NOT get to workout all day at work), then, come home shower and get ready for work.

By 7:30am, after I’ve dragged the trash and recycling out, made lunches all while shoving a veggie omelet in my mouth, I’m hollering up the stairs to my three girls because they are still not out of bed, dressed, and ready for school.

At 8:20am, I am dropping  them off to school and heading back to the gym to start my work day. Mid-morning, I get the call from the school nurse to come pick up my youngest who has a 102 fever and was she feeling okay this morning (I think so, she didn’t say she felt sick, wait, was that an accusation) ? And then, comes the friendly reminder that she would not be expected at school tomorrow because of the 24 hour fever policy (s**t! working mom and working out mom’s nightmare).

I get sick child settled on the couch, I wrestle down my husband (who happens to be home at the moment) to stay put.  I go pick up child number 2 from school at 3:15 and drop her off at the house. I, then,  zip over to the Pic-n-Pay for the Motrin, crackers, Gatorade and apple juice….and fly back home.

Now, it’s time to get child number 2 ready for indoor soccer and get sick child to take her medicine.

I’m out the door to bring #2 to soccer for 4:00pm so that I can go back to the school and pick up child number 3 from girl scouts at 4:30pm. Thank god, I arranged for a ride home from soccer for child #2, otherwise I’d be back on the other side of town for 5:15 soccer pickup…with child 3, and sick child.

Crap…what’s for dinner?

Sounds ridiculous right? This is just an ordinary day in the life of a working mother with multiple busy children. I’m not looking for a medal or sympathy, and I’m definitely not tooting my own horn.  There are mothers everywhere doing exactly the same thing also. This was a choice I made: to have three children and then, to go back to work so that I could provide more to the family including the soccer, lacrosse, basketball, ski racing, girl scouts…what have you, to give them experiences.

What I am asking for is a little less judgment.  You will come into my house at any given moment where the laundry is not complete, dishes may be in the sink…(insert gasp) the cleaner hasn’t shown up (note: I am the house cleaner).  I actually had someone recently suggest to me that, well, I could always do my housework in the early morning instead of running and working out.  That comment still stings, and I still resent it.

I choose an ungodly hour to have one hour to myself and I have to feel guilty over that too because I could be mopping, cleaning the toilet, or catching up on laundry/ dishes or planning the meals for the week???

I don’t need a girls vacation, a weekend at the spa, or a nanny.  I do it all and some days I do it just fine, but I do need something for myself. For me, that something is always going to be physical and it's going to be in gym or out on the road. I need this for my sanity. It is a part of my personality, and it’s what makes me a better mother, wife, friend.

So the next time I don’t get to every single email about the field trip, I’m late to rsvp, or my latest, completely forgetting about a  playdate & a birthday party, spare me and my fellow sisters the judgment. We are doing the best that we can. And if you think this is frazzled, imagine what we’re like without our workout…

R.I.P.P.

I am mourning my speed and my mileage. When I was marathon training, I could head out for miles on end, and what I found discouraging was that it took me forever to warm up, and my 5k-10k speed was long gone. I could no longer run a sub-7 5k, yet running a 10 miler felt awful. Where's the happy medium?

 I had heard this from my Ultra-friends before....I chalked it up to one too many ultras...they're just so use to running 5-6 hours on a mountainside trail that they probably just have no desire to go short & fast...it just doesn't give them that runner's high. I was wrong.

Fast forward to 5 weeks post marathon, I am still struggling to find my speed, but now I am not out running 20 milers either. And my casual runs are pathetic. My warm up mile is practically a crawl...my peak mile is slower than what my marathon race pace was...and when, I think I am picking it up, I'm not...just trotting along at a pace I would have warmed up at prior.

In desperation the other day, I hit the treadmill because I couldn't get out before my family's alarm clocks went off...so I decided to play...an old workout I use to do on a whim when I could run the a 6:30 pace 5k...some intervals mixed in with some kettlebell burpees, swings, & box jumps. It felt good to get my heart rate up...but this time, I could only hold a 6:50 pace for 3 minutes without feeling like I might fly off it.

So for now, I am kind of lost...I'm not running the mileage I was while marathon training, and I'm clearly not ready to run a 5k at a pace I'd like to. It's a double funeral for my mileage & my speed...and it's back to the drawing board for me. I'm not sure what I'm up for next...my Achilles injury has me somewhat limited and perhaps heading to PT.

For now, I will work on my strength, my flexibility, and hopefully, I will be back more resilient than ever. ...and the sun will shine once again...whether it's a 3 mile post-injury build up or a 30 miler ultra challenge...I will be back.

The Marathon Taper

The taper is something that should be looked at as a time of rest and relief. For marathons, it's the two-three weeks before race day where the mileage & work load does just that...tapers down so that by race week you are doing just enough to stay loose & not get antsy legs. This allows your body to recover and ready itself for the actual race day. Sounds great...

I despise the taper. For me, while I understand it's purpose, and I do follow it diligently in any of my races, it's my least favorite part of running training. It's like an ego blow for me mentally and physically.

Physically, with all the rest and recovery, I actually start to feel worse. Everything is even tighter than when I was at my peak mileage. I am so exhausted. I actually crawled into bed one night at 8:30...it was Saturday! I slept 10 hours and woke up feeling no different.

Mentally, every doubt in my head races around. Three weeks ago just before the taper during my last 20 miler, I'm high as a kite...I want to run the race tomorrow. I am so ready & just want it done.

Then, during the taper, all the insecurities surface...did I do enough? Did I challenge myself enough? Maybe I worked too hard. I should have been keeping up with my weight training. Why didn't I take up yoga on my rest days? I should have bought the other model of shoes. And why does it feel like running 3 miles is impossible, when running 20 had me floating on air?

But it never fails...I follow the taper, I toe up at the line race day, and it all pays off. I'm always ready.  For me, it's the thing I like least about training, but I want to know I did everything possible to set myself up for success...and that includes the taper...

Boston

In the running world, we all know what BQ means, boston qualifying time...what makes Boston so special & elite technically, is that you have to have a qualifying time to be able to apply to try to get in (unless you get a charity number, which means you raise x amount of $ for a particular charity). It still is not a guarantee based on how many people in your age group applied & what their qualifying times were. It is in a league of it's own.

I am not going to lie...I knew exactly what my "qualifying time" needed to be. I also knew that depending on how I was feeling, and how the race played out...I could easily end up happy just with a finish. Even when everything goes right in your training, race day could just not be your day, & you could end up having to adjust your goals.

When I crossed the finish, I looked at the Finish Clock Time (running clock time) and thought, "oh well, I just missed it...well, I gave it a good fight, & I have nothing to be ashamed of. Still a great race, great time, great finish"....When I literally stopped my Garmen and then, stopped running...everything hurt...my hip flexors felt like they were on fire, and my calves began to cramp up...honest to God, I could barely walk.

I found my husband, and I told him I just needed to get out of there...all I wanted to do was go home & plunge into boiling water to work out all the tightness & cramping I was immediately feeling. I remember, thinking that I was so happy I finished because then, I would never have to do THAT again. Clearly, half marathons and below were more my thing...I could do well & not take up too much time of my life training, I could definitely walk better after the finish...yes, the big joke at this race, how do you tell the halfers versus the fulls? The Halfs were all drinking beer and enjoying the live rock bands...the Marathoners were looking for bananas, more water, & the quickest exit out of there.

We made the big trek home (all of 20 minutes) with me cramping up with every move I made...(I so should have stayed and taken advantage of that massage tent)...I made it up the stairs, & literally, plunged into a bath as hot as I could stand. Shortly, after, I got dressed to head over to the two soccer games for my girls when I got the message...

A dear friend of mine who is practically the major of running if running were a town...she knew my exact time...& indeed those two sweet letters beside them...BQ. And just like that, I was feeling like a million bucks again. Gone were the cramps, the dehydration...all I had was hope.

That's why we all refer to it as Boston...everyone knows what you mean when you say "I'm doing Boston", "I'm trying to qualify" (for Boston), "I BQ'd"....it symbolizes something so sacred and special...it's hope wrapped up in two letters...

I will throw my hat into Boston 2015, and if luck goes my way, I will get a hard-earned number...and I will run with hope, joy, pride....and love...because there is nothing like a BQ, nothing that compares to Boston.

Post-race Blues

I've been dreading this...preparing for it, thinking about it, feeling it, acknowledging it, and now...trying to articulate it into words that you can relate to...I spent 16 weeks thinking about, training for, eating for, sleeping for, talking about that one race...the marathon. And when I finally reached that day, it was everything I had hoped and anticipated, the good and the difficult...it was glorious. I even got to enjoy the week after...and in my town, in the business & community in which I make my living...I even got an extra week to relish it because of all the words of praise, inquiries, and congratulations that I received.

Funny how before the race, I couldn't wait to do anything but run. Right after the race, I was flying so high I kept right on running. And now, reality hitting me and my achilles smack in the face...I have to take some time off. An aggressive strain if you will, has me off the roads (other than my coaching/hobbling around).

Now all I want to do is pick up and run. It's a constant battle with myself...do not run, rest. Do not run, pick up some weights. Do not run...yes, I even did some half-assed downward dogs before I heard the beep for the coffee pot.

I know because of everything that I have learned in exercise science and training & conditioning  of really any sport, that you cannot stay at that top level. If you have done your homework and trained appropriately, you will peak out at that day/season of competition & then, when it's over, you go back to base building. I know that. But, it's a tough pill to swallow. I did do everything right. I had an amazing 1st marathon...I might even throw my name into Boston 2015...but that's it for today. Back to the drawing board.

Now, without running, I feel without purpose. I had never experienced this type of post-race "blues" so to speak before...I could always just pick right up & move forward. Maybe it's the nature of the beast (26.2) or maybe it's the injury (I do hate not being able to do what I want to do)...I feel a sense of sadness if you will...because just like that...after 4 months of complete and utter focus...it's all over.

It kind of reminds me of the holiday season in someway...all that build up is so stressful and fun and exciting and overwhelming...and then, when it's over, what now?

Right now, I am sitting back watching what I hope will be the perfect peak for the Sox while icing my achilles...what happens tomorrow, only time will tell....

50 Shades of Marathon

And just like that, my lust for running is reignited..

After 16 weeks of marathon training, I couldn't wait for it to be over...an aggressive Achilles strain along with the common battle scars had me in a lot of pain, and frankly, I wasn't sure I would be well enough to toe up to the start line. Fortunately, my mentor had steered me well, and we went with a very conservative training program.

After two weeks of taper torture, I felt more tired, sore, and yet freakishly relaxed about the race. After all, this could very well be my first start & finish of a marathon...just completing the training is trophy enough. And, at the same time, I was so frustrated from it all that I thought it might be time for a brief break-up....the drive was going, the love was gone...I felt left in pieces...

But like distance making the heart grow fonder...my two weeks of taper torture had me ravenous to run again...desperate...like if I didn't run, I might have nothing left of me...

On race day, during those 26.2 miles mostly alone...and with nothing in my ears but my own thoughts...it was life altering...or at least it felt that way at the time. I'm pretty sure I stared down every insecurity along with every bit of earned confidence...and in the end, despite saying I would never do that again when I could barely walk after the finish...something changed.

All week I've found myself reliving every mile, every moment for good and for bad...and every time, I come back with that same feeling...wow, that was amazing...painful, relaxing, clumsy, graceful, ugly, beautiful....and exhilarating....the type of thing that only those that have, will understand....

And I can't wait to do it all over again...