Perhaps it's the oxytocin pumping through my body (it may just be old age), but I've been waxing nostalgically this September of my 25th year of running. Gulp. No, I was not a child prodigy who began running at age 3, so 25 years of running just makes me...well...elderly.
I have began thinking about how fortunate I have been to be a runner, and to have embraced and enjoyed running during it's near infancy. In that vein, I compiled a list of all that strikes my nostalgic fancy....
1. I miss my college Cross Country Team. I miss that they could understand how "Bust A Move" could only be about passing opponents on the XC trail....
2. I miss the smell of grapes as we would round the corner for home on the Saint Anselm XC course. It indelibly in my mind will signify the finish.
3. I miss Ed Sheehan...dearly. The first person to use the words "talent" and my name in the same sentence, even though I thought a 200 meter indoor track was a quarter of a mile...
4. I miss Phil Riley and Will Mason (too soon gone), and Tom Carroll jeering me as I tried desperately to hang with them on runs...
5. I miss Tom Hurley and his spiral bound notebook. Long before the internet, Tom knew every stat on every runner in New England. What a classy man.
6. I miss Sunday morning runs at "Wang Towers"
7. I miss drinking beer and eating pretzels with Lisa Senatore after she had put me through my paces on the track...
8. I miss working for a running company where I could run with the CEO at lunchtime and he actually cared about my running...
9. I miss the way the John Carson Race was. Don't get me wrong, I love that it has raised so much money for a scholarship, but there was something so special about those of us that ran it in the beginning purely for bragging rights. No money - we were all connected to John Carson in some way, and we just wanted to honor him as best we could. The winner got their choice of a steak or swordfish grilled by the race director, Bob Sullivan.
10. I miss the Cawley 2 mile series.
11. I miss belly dancers at the East End Race.
12. I miss going for a run, smiling and waving at other runners, and they would smile and wave back. This pretty much never happens when I run anymore, even though I see so many more runners.
13. I miss the simplicity of races: run as hard as you can, stay on your feet, and let the cards fall where they may.
14. I miss the Hockomock Swamp Rat and his complete disregard for popular opinion or political correctness. Some girls dream of being on the cover of Cosmo - me...the "Rat". Never was I more flattered to be completely ridiculed. (I love #levelrenner, and do appreciate their old school approach)
15. I miss my 2008 running partners. You know who you are. We killed each other in a synchronized, single minded goal of a sub 2:48. I absolutely savored every second of all of it.
16. I miss my old body. My feet are riddled with arthritis, hammer toes, and my hammies are just shredded. I miss bounding out the door, bridled only by lack of time.
17. I miss the innocence of running - before there was the Central Park rapist, and Boston 2013, there was simply...blissful, carefree running.
Tonight as I turned the corner for home, round the power lines, summer's last gasp exuded the essence of grapes on the wane. I inhaled deeply, and kicked it to the finish line.
This time, though, the finish line was my daughter's precious face, pressed to the glass window, awaiting my arrival. The past 25 years have been quite a wild and wonderful ride. I can only hope the next 25 years will be half as wonderful, and that I am here to enjoy them. I hope my girls know to always be the first to smile, and that they find something that will always fire that light that gets in their eyes.
"Anything in life worth doing is worth overdoing. Moderation is for cowards". - Navy Seal recitation in "Lone Survivor"
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Marathon Monday
Never before and perhaps never again will there be more hoopla surrounding Marathon Monday, April 21, 2014. Seemingly, the entire world was suddenly interested in the storied footrace from Hopkinton to Boston. This year, in particular, saw more first-time runners jumping on the magic train of Boston. Boston entries sold out in record time, people scrambled for early and fast qualifiers, and charities benefited like never before. The entire state of Massachusetts was abuzz for weeks preceding the big dance. Ever since I could walk, I've either run or attended Marathon Monday and reveled in all it's glory.
This year I spent Marathon Monday in a hospital bed, hooked up to fetal monitoring equipment. (all is fine with baby - I'm just plain old :) I wasn't sad for myself, but I felt terrible for all of my runner friends I had promised a cheer to out on the course. So, I cheered from afar and felt the palpable pain, exhilaration, and heartbreak of all of the participants.
Nobody would argue that this winter was one of the toughest to train through in New England. That is part of the cruelty that is Boston - train all winter in single degree snow-laden streets, and Marathon Monday will dawn warmer than expected. I have blogged before that running is not for the faint of heart - no guy has ever broken my heart the way the marathon has (maybe I've been lucky in love- I don't know). Listening to Shalane Flanagan post-race, I surmise she felt that same heartbreak.
The marathon is the all-in poker move. You dedicate 6-12 months of your life for one race. That's a huge gamble. Absolutely everything has to go perfectly right to have the race you've trained for. Just getting to the starting line healthy is a feat in and of itself.
To those who trained, made it to the starting line, finished...I salute you.
There is a connection between all Boston runners that only comes from the shared experience. The spectrum of emotions experienced at Boston mirror those of life. You have given your body, soul, and mind to the race. Phidippides died attempting such a feat. Only when you push yourself to places you have never been will you know what you are capable of.
The power of the human spirit. I know what it's like to train through a tough New England winter and have race day approach 80 degrees. To look down at your skin, white from the salt, your shoes, bloody from heat blisters, and find a way to push on through.
The power of the crowds. The first time I ran Boston I kept looking for the freight train I was hearing around mile 13. It was the legendary ladies of Wellesley. I have never heard such a thunderous noise in all of my life. It gave me goosebumps.
The power of love. My first Boston, I was in the elite women's start. There were less than 50 of us. The day was very hot, but I was determined to break 3 hours. With 1.2 miles to go, I could feel the sub 3 slipping away with every painful, delirious step I took. I heard a loud voice screaming that I needed a sub 6 minute last mile to dip under 3 hours. I looked up to see my husband sitting in the top of a tree screaming his lungs out at me to get me to my goal. To this day, I have no idea how he climbed that branch less tree, nor how I found the strength to crank out a 5:40 last mile.
I crossed the line in 2:58:09, 38th female. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.
The spirituality of the Boston Marathon. Another year, it was also very hot, and my feet were cramping up on me. I was becoming delirious, and just wanted to finish. I prayed to God for a sign that I could finish. I looked up, at mile 24, and a childhood special needs friend was holding an enormous sign that read "Go Kara" that she had made herself. I choked back tears and finished strong.
The heartbreak of the marathon when the day just doesn't go as planned.
I know that heartbreak all too well. On a last ditch effort to qualify for the 2008 Olympic Trials, I joined 30 something other females on the starting line of the Virginia Beach Shamrock Marathon. It was the absolute last day to qualify. I contracted bronchitis the week of the race. A tornado touched down the morning of the race. Most of the women dropped, with 40 mph winds lashing us along the Virginia Coast. I actually had bruises on the insides of left calf from the wind whipping my leg in.
The winning women's time that day was high 2:50's. I know what it is like to know that every element is against you, but your entire family has sacrificed to come cheer you on, and you are finishing, no matter what. I crossed the line in 3:02, glanced at the huddle of women weeping at the finish line as they saw their dreams get literally blown out to sea (sorry for the pun - humor is necessary in these circumstances!).
It still stings just to think about it, and that is the last marathon I have run.
The sorrow and joy that is the marathon. In my first attempt to qualify for the Olympic Trials in 2008, I ran Bay State (Chicago was the plan - flight booked, hotel room booked - Chicago was forecast to be in the 90's). The day was perfect, I had put in 100 mile weeks for 6 months, had a pacer, but I just didn't have it that day. Knowing I wouldn't run a 2:47, my coach asked at mile 18 if I wanted to drop and save my fitness for another day. The joy of rounding the warning track at LeLacheur Baseball park, finishing first place female in a marathon is a feeling I will treasure and most likely never experience again. Yet, the post-race picture of me, sitting on a bench, looking less than thrilled with my performance, shows a hint of sorrow.
Unless I'm passed out in the back of an ambulance, I'll take the finish, thank you.
No matter your time, place, or where you finish in relation to your goal - finishing the marathon is one of the ultimate human experiences.
I salute all of you, share in your happiness, and wish I could have been there last Monday to bolster the human spirit. And just maybe you've inspired me enough that I'll wear my heart on my sleeve again and run another marathon.
This year I spent Marathon Monday in a hospital bed, hooked up to fetal monitoring equipment. (all is fine with baby - I'm just plain old :) I wasn't sad for myself, but I felt terrible for all of my runner friends I had promised a cheer to out on the course. So, I cheered from afar and felt the palpable pain, exhilaration, and heartbreak of all of the participants.
Nobody would argue that this winter was one of the toughest to train through in New England. That is part of the cruelty that is Boston - train all winter in single degree snow-laden streets, and Marathon Monday will dawn warmer than expected. I have blogged before that running is not for the faint of heart - no guy has ever broken my heart the way the marathon has (maybe I've been lucky in love- I don't know). Listening to Shalane Flanagan post-race, I surmise she felt that same heartbreak.
The marathon is the all-in poker move. You dedicate 6-12 months of your life for one race. That's a huge gamble. Absolutely everything has to go perfectly right to have the race you've trained for. Just getting to the starting line healthy is a feat in and of itself.
To those who trained, made it to the starting line, finished...I salute you.
There is a connection between all Boston runners that only comes from the shared experience. The spectrum of emotions experienced at Boston mirror those of life. You have given your body, soul, and mind to the race. Phidippides died attempting such a feat. Only when you push yourself to places you have never been will you know what you are capable of.
The power of the human spirit. I know what it's like to train through a tough New England winter and have race day approach 80 degrees. To look down at your skin, white from the salt, your shoes, bloody from heat blisters, and find a way to push on through.
The power of the crowds. The first time I ran Boston I kept looking for the freight train I was hearing around mile 13. It was the legendary ladies of Wellesley. I have never heard such a thunderous noise in all of my life. It gave me goosebumps.
The power of love. My first Boston, I was in the elite women's start. There were less than 50 of us. The day was very hot, but I was determined to break 3 hours. With 1.2 miles to go, I could feel the sub 3 slipping away with every painful, delirious step I took. I heard a loud voice screaming that I needed a sub 6 minute last mile to dip under 3 hours. I looked up to see my husband sitting in the top of a tree screaming his lungs out at me to get me to my goal. To this day, I have no idea how he climbed that branch less tree, nor how I found the strength to crank out a 5:40 last mile.
I crossed the line in 2:58:09, 38th female. If that isn't love, I don't know what is.
The spirituality of the Boston Marathon. Another year, it was also very hot, and my feet were cramping up on me. I was becoming delirious, and just wanted to finish. I prayed to God for a sign that I could finish. I looked up, at mile 24, and a childhood special needs friend was holding an enormous sign that read "Go Kara" that she had made herself. I choked back tears and finished strong.
The heartbreak of the marathon when the day just doesn't go as planned.
I know that heartbreak all too well. On a last ditch effort to qualify for the 2008 Olympic Trials, I joined 30 something other females on the starting line of the Virginia Beach Shamrock Marathon. It was the absolute last day to qualify. I contracted bronchitis the week of the race. A tornado touched down the morning of the race. Most of the women dropped, with 40 mph winds lashing us along the Virginia Coast. I actually had bruises on the insides of left calf from the wind whipping my leg in.
The winning women's time that day was high 2:50's. I know what it is like to know that every element is against you, but your entire family has sacrificed to come cheer you on, and you are finishing, no matter what. I crossed the line in 3:02, glanced at the huddle of women weeping at the finish line as they saw their dreams get literally blown out to sea (sorry for the pun - humor is necessary in these circumstances!).
It still stings just to think about it, and that is the last marathon I have run.
The sorrow and joy that is the marathon. In my first attempt to qualify for the Olympic Trials in 2008, I ran Bay State (Chicago was the plan - flight booked, hotel room booked - Chicago was forecast to be in the 90's). The day was perfect, I had put in 100 mile weeks for 6 months, had a pacer, but I just didn't have it that day. Knowing I wouldn't run a 2:47, my coach asked at mile 18 if I wanted to drop and save my fitness for another day. The joy of rounding the warning track at LeLacheur Baseball park, finishing first place female in a marathon is a feeling I will treasure and most likely never experience again. Yet, the post-race picture of me, sitting on a bench, looking less than thrilled with my performance, shows a hint of sorrow.
Unless I'm passed out in the back of an ambulance, I'll take the finish, thank you.
No matter your time, place, or where you finish in relation to your goal - finishing the marathon is one of the ultimate human experiences.
I salute all of you, share in your happiness, and wish I could have been there last Monday to bolster the human spirit. And just maybe you've inspired me enough that I'll wear my heart on my sleeve again and run another marathon.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Well, hello 3rd trimester!
As a runner I have always held the self-delusional notion that I am impervious to "regular" pregnancy afflications. I floated through the third trimester of my first pregnancy fairly effortlessly (until they put me on bedrest- that wasn't too much fun). This pregnancy - well - let's just say it hasn't been quite so effortless.
Discomfort is a runners medium - without it - they couldn't break through to the next level. Pregnancy, too, is about handling various levels of discomfort: some physical, some mental. For me, the mental is more menacing. Not that I'm complaining, but if I were to complain (remember - self delusion!) this would be my Top 5 list:
5. Victoria's Secret has conspired against me
to deliver catalogs of scantily clad swimsuit models daily - sometimes two catalogs a day. Not exactly the ego boost I look for every day when I come home from work, absolutely exhausted, with a 2 year old in tow. Where are the "Big Bellies Rock" catalogs? (hmmm...now that is an idea!)
4. Sam Summer also has arrived ridiculously early
this year. Normally, that would be a cause for celebration (it is my all time favorite drink) - but for now, I will just dream about that cold, lemony, taste....
3. There are no less than 3 major national running events
from February to March in NEW ENGLAND! THAT NEVER HAPPENS! (Snowshoe Nationals, Masters Indoor Track Nationals, and the National Masters 10k Road Championships).
2. Leg cramps and tiny bladder syndrome.
The OB says my leg cramps are due to dehydration (well, yeah, I'm a teacher in a tough school who is allotted 2 breaks a day - as much as I would love to drink the recommended amount of water, I simply can't without the luxury of bathroom trips). So....I live for the that wonderful 2 day period known as the weekend when I can drink all the water I want, and go to the bathroom whenever I please (yeah, it's the little things!)
1. Drumroll please......The Boston Marathon.
I will totally admit that I get cranky every year that I am NOT running Boston. I love everything about the Boston Marathon - the hoopla, the expo, the training, specatating, but most of all...running it! I'm not complaining, remember, but if I were to complain, right? The fact that my runs are waddles at this point doesn't help that cranky state (sorry friends and family - the gloom will be over the day after Boston!)
When I take a (non-hormonal) look at my "rants", I arrive at the conclusion that what I am merely asking for is a day of: a stellar run at Boston, while sporting a sexy little number from Victoria's Secret, while simultaneously running SnowShoe Nationals, setting the National 3000 indoor masters record, winning the National 10k Road Championships surrounded by an unlimited supply of water, Sam Summer, and porta-potties. Is that too much to ask? An entirely rational request, of course! Isn't that what every pregnant woman dreams of?
Yes, runners are different indeed. My rant list is probably not typical of your pregnant third trimester woman. Perhaps other female runners felt the same during their pregnancies. I'll try to stay a little more rational.
I also know nothing can bring the happiness that bringing a new little life into this world can bring.
A porta potty in my classroom would be nice, though.
Discomfort is a runners medium - without it - they couldn't break through to the next level. Pregnancy, too, is about handling various levels of discomfort: some physical, some mental. For me, the mental is more menacing. Not that I'm complaining, but if I were to complain (remember - self delusion!) this would be my Top 5 list:
5. Victoria's Secret has conspired against me
to deliver catalogs of scantily clad swimsuit models daily - sometimes two catalogs a day. Not exactly the ego boost I look for every day when I come home from work, absolutely exhausted, with a 2 year old in tow. Where are the "Big Bellies Rock" catalogs? (hmmm...now that is an idea!)
 |
| Where are all the big bellies? |
4. Sam Summer also has arrived ridiculously early
this year. Normally, that would be a cause for celebration (it is my all time favorite drink) - but for now, I will just dream about that cold, lemony, taste....
 |
| Mmmmm.... |
3. There are no less than 3 major national running events
from February to March in NEW ENGLAND! THAT NEVER HAPPENS! (Snowshoe Nationals, Masters Indoor Track Nationals, and the National Masters 10k Road Championships).
 |
| Masters Championships...IN NEW ENGLAND! |
2. Leg cramps and tiny bladder syndrome.
The OB says my leg cramps are due to dehydration (well, yeah, I'm a teacher in a tough school who is allotted 2 breaks a day - as much as I would love to drink the recommended amount of water, I simply can't without the luxury of bathroom trips). So....I live for the that wonderful 2 day period known as the weekend when I can drink all the water I want, and go to the bathroom whenever I please (yeah, it's the little things!)
 |
| Yes, I dream about unlimited access to a porta potty |
1. Drumroll please......The Boston Marathon.
I will totally admit that I get cranky every year that I am NOT running Boston. I love everything about the Boston Marathon - the hoopla, the expo, the training, specatating, but most of all...running it! I'm not complaining, remember, but if I were to complain, right? The fact that my runs are waddles at this point doesn't help that cranky state (sorry friends and family - the gloom will be over the day after Boston!)
 |
| The Grandaddy of all marathons... |
When I take a (non-hormonal) look at my "rants", I arrive at the conclusion that what I am merely asking for is a day of: a stellar run at Boston, while sporting a sexy little number from Victoria's Secret, while simultaneously running SnowShoe Nationals, setting the National 3000 indoor masters record, winning the National 10k Road Championships surrounded by an unlimited supply of water, Sam Summer, and porta-potties. Is that too much to ask? An entirely rational request, of course! Isn't that what every pregnant woman dreams of?
Yes, runners are different indeed. My rant list is probably not typical of your pregnant third trimester woman. Perhaps other female runners felt the same during their pregnancies. I'll try to stay a little more rational.
I also know nothing can bring the happiness that bringing a new little life into this world can bring.
A porta potty in my classroom would be nice, though.
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Moments That Define
I observed two races recently that caused two particular runners some angst, but also an opportunity to define their "moment". The first was the widely publicized "lap short" 2 mile of American middle distance star Jenny Simpson. The second was a friend of mine - a star on the local scene - who went the wrong way while leading a local race.
Both events resonated strongly with me - as I have had the misfortune of experiencing both at various times during my 25 years of running. (umm....maybe more than once?) Once at an inter-club Cross Country meet with team money on the line, I led early and went off course. I think the entire squad of the biggest rival club at that meet called me back on course. (I still hold those ladies - #GBTC - in such high regard!) I get so caught up in the moment when I run that I could be running through Babylonian Gardens or the lost City of Atlantis and I wouldn't notice where I was! (yes, it is always 110% my fault when I go off-course!). In 2011 I took a stab at the American 40-44 indoor 3000 meter record and asked no less than 3 friends to count laps aloud for me as I was so afraid of stopping a lap early! (been there, done that!) I managed to complete all laps of the 3000 that day!
Running is a somewhat unique sport in that you can't pin the blame on your team mates, the referee, the crowds, etc. Ask an NFL player why they lost the game? The answers will probably run the gamut from the QB's passing game to the Referee who needed glasses. Ask a runner why they stopped a lap short or went the wrong way and they will most likely respond with a shrug, perhaps an "I was caught in the moment" - but very rarely will you hear them blame it on somebody else. Perhaps because it is such an individual sport, runners place the onus on themselves.
I asked my friend what happened. Classy response on two counts - he said he went the wrong way (he had been in the lead) and that the second place male called him back on course. What he did not say was that it cost him the win, the series lead, and some cash. Do I remember who won the race? No. Will anybody? Probably not. What people will remember is that he handled the incident with class.
Jenny Simpson was on her way to setting the American Record in the two mile. Kicking a lap early, she thought she was finished one lap too soon. She realized her mistake, and gave it all she had to finish the race. Her post-race interview and the poise with which she handled the mishap probably won her more fans than if she had set the American record. Do I remember who won? No.
Then there are others, who chose to handle their moment differently. Nancy Kerrigan notoriously became a household name with her "Why me?". Mary Decker Slaney and Zola Budd are remembered for their track entanglement, and Slaney ripping off Budd's bib number. Suzy Favor Hamilton (amongst other things that won't be discussed in this blog) is remembered for falling on purpose when she realized she would not medal at the 2000 Olympics in the 1500.
Character. Jesse Ownes said, "It all goes so fast, and character makes the difference when it is close". Running so often mirrors life. Every day we are faced with major and minor setbacks. Often times, the lessons learned on the oval carry us through and help us cope. If we have the character to handle racing mishaps, then the blips that is our daily life are nothing; and vice-versa. Imagine a society where young people extolled the virtues of Jenny Simpson instead of Kobe Bryant? (yeah, I know...keep dreaming.....)
Until such day, I will hold those purveyors of misfortune in the highest regard, hope they hold their heads up high, and know that in the end, all that matters is how you ran your race...and your life....and not where you finished.
When your moment comes, be it in the sun or in in a thunderstorm, how will you be defined?
Both events resonated strongly with me - as I have had the misfortune of experiencing both at various times during my 25 years of running. (umm....maybe more than once?) Once at an inter-club Cross Country meet with team money on the line, I led early and went off course. I think the entire squad of the biggest rival club at that meet called me back on course. (I still hold those ladies - #GBTC - in such high regard!) I get so caught up in the moment when I run that I could be running through Babylonian Gardens or the lost City of Atlantis and I wouldn't notice where I was! (yes, it is always 110% my fault when I go off-course!). In 2011 I took a stab at the American 40-44 indoor 3000 meter record and asked no less than 3 friends to count laps aloud for me as I was so afraid of stopping a lap early! (been there, done that!) I managed to complete all laps of the 3000 that day!
Running is a somewhat unique sport in that you can't pin the blame on your team mates, the referee, the crowds, etc. Ask an NFL player why they lost the game? The answers will probably run the gamut from the QB's passing game to the Referee who needed glasses. Ask a runner why they stopped a lap short or went the wrong way and they will most likely respond with a shrug, perhaps an "I was caught in the moment" - but very rarely will you hear them blame it on somebody else. Perhaps because it is such an individual sport, runners place the onus on themselves.
I asked my friend what happened. Classy response on two counts - he said he went the wrong way (he had been in the lead) and that the second place male called him back on course. What he did not say was that it cost him the win, the series lead, and some cash. Do I remember who won the race? No. Will anybody? Probably not. What people will remember is that he handled the incident with class.
Jenny Simpson was on her way to setting the American Record in the two mile. Kicking a lap early, she thought she was finished one lap too soon. She realized her mistake, and gave it all she had to finish the race. Her post-race interview and the poise with which she handled the mishap probably won her more fans than if she had set the American record. Do I remember who won? No.
Then there are others, who chose to handle their moment differently. Nancy Kerrigan notoriously became a household name with her "Why me?". Mary Decker Slaney and Zola Budd are remembered for their track entanglement, and Slaney ripping off Budd's bib number. Suzy Favor Hamilton (amongst other things that won't be discussed in this blog) is remembered for falling on purpose when she realized she would not medal at the 2000 Olympics in the 1500.
Character. Jesse Ownes said, "It all goes so fast, and character makes the difference when it is close". Running so often mirrors life. Every day we are faced with major and minor setbacks. Often times, the lessons learned on the oval carry us through and help us cope. If we have the character to handle racing mishaps, then the blips that is our daily life are nothing; and vice-versa. Imagine a society where young people extolled the virtues of Jenny Simpson instead of Kobe Bryant? (yeah, I know...keep dreaming.....)
Until such day, I will hold those purveyors of misfortune in the highest regard, hope they hold their heads up high, and know that in the end, all that matters is how you ran your race...and your life....and not where you finished.
When your moment comes, be it in the sun or in in a thunderstorm, how will you be defined?
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Why do you run?
It seems as though the U.S. is experiencing a second "running boom". Is it the advent of adventure races, color runs, and Spartan races? Or is it because so many people want to "do something" after Boston 2013 - experience what it is like to be a runner? Whatever the reason, races are selling out well in advance of race day, everybody wants to qualify for Boston, and running is suddenly something for everyone of every ability to try out and enjoy. (Whatever your opinion on all the new-fangled races, I say anything to get people up and out the door is a good thing!)
When I first started running - gulp - 25 years ago this year - there weren't many races, and the concept of color, bubble, or adventure races wasn't even a twinkle in anybody's eye. Some of my friends ran to get in shape for other sports; others ran to lose the proverbial "freshman 15". I was certainly the farthest thing from a runner. I had been playing basketball since I could walk, and that was my all-consuming passion.
I went to college to play basketball. However, as we all learn sooner or later, sometimes our dreams don't quite catch up with reality, and I was simply too small nor did I have the skills to make it at the college level.
If you asked me at age 18 to define myself, I was, and always had been a "student athlete". The phone call home to my parents that I had quit playing basketball was answered with "Molloys don't quit". I had never quit anything in my life, and I felt like the ultimate failure.
Failure was my demon and haunted me day and night. To quell the demon, I decided I would try out for Cross Country my sophomore year. (The fact that I was trying to impress a certain male runner didn't hurt the decision making process....hey, the logic of a teenager is sometimes hazy. It seemed like a good idea at the time.....)
Our first Cross Country race was an invitational that included some Division 1 teams. I had been training for 10 days. (apparently I thought that was all you needed to become a leader of the pack runner) My coach advised me to tuck in the middle somewhere, and try to run with some of the Seniors on our team.
I led.
A mile into the race, I think my legs had literally turned to stone with lactic acid buld up. I could taste blood in my mouth, and my lungs were simply on fire. I had never felt that sort of pain in any other sport before. (Perhaps leading was not one of my brighter ideas....) I begrudgingly made it to the finish line (definitely not in the lead), vowing I would never, ever, ever run again. I handed my singlet to my Coach, and told him I quit. Get ready to bring the demons back....
He smiled and said he would see me tomorrow at practice.
I loathed this sport like I loathed nothing else before. Yet, deep down in places I wouldn't admit to myself yet, I secretly loved that pain. It was exhilirating. There was nothing quite like pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion, and then pushing through. Could I grapple daily with that pain? Did I want to?
I returned at 6 am the next morning for the first workout of the day, then again at 3 pm for the second. I despised every deliriously wonderful painful second of it.
Running is a relationship. It is intimate, physical, and complicated. It will break your heart more times than not. Every time I talk to a new runner, I am always curious as to why they want to run. Why put yourself through that?
Why do I run? 25 years later, I don't have the complete answer. Running has provided me with more than I could ask of any relationship: career opportunities, friendships, challenges, triumphs...the list goes on and on. It has also broken my heart in a way that only something you embrace with your entire heart, soul, and body can. (I ran 4 marathons in 7 months trying to make the Olympic Trials and came up short. Yeah. Major, major heart break).
Running to me has always been about pushing your body to the brink, and no, I have never thought it was easy or fun. (big asterisk here: except for running while pregnant which I only run for fun and don't train). Perhaps I'm doing it all wrong. I love runners, the community of running, the mere thought of running, but I loathe the act of running. And that is why I love it. For the glimmer of a fraction of a second when your spirit transcends your body and you accomplish the impossible. It is a glimpse of the ethereal realm, and the demons fly.
So when you talk to your co-worker, neighbor or friend who is signing up for their first 5k, give them an extra word of encouragement, and let them know it will get easier. Running is not for the faint of heart, but the rewards are unmatched.
Why do you run?
When I first started running - gulp - 25 years ago this year - there weren't many races, and the concept of color, bubble, or adventure races wasn't even a twinkle in anybody's eye. Some of my friends ran to get in shape for other sports; others ran to lose the proverbial "freshman 15". I was certainly the farthest thing from a runner. I had been playing basketball since I could walk, and that was my all-consuming passion.
I went to college to play basketball. However, as we all learn sooner or later, sometimes our dreams don't quite catch up with reality, and I was simply too small nor did I have the skills to make it at the college level.
If you asked me at age 18 to define myself, I was, and always had been a "student athlete". The phone call home to my parents that I had quit playing basketball was answered with "Molloys don't quit". I had never quit anything in my life, and I felt like the ultimate failure.
Failure was my demon and haunted me day and night. To quell the demon, I decided I would try out for Cross Country my sophomore year. (The fact that I was trying to impress a certain male runner didn't hurt the decision making process....hey, the logic of a teenager is sometimes hazy. It seemed like a good idea at the time.....)
Our first Cross Country race was an invitational that included some Division 1 teams. I had been training for 10 days. (apparently I thought that was all you needed to become a leader of the pack runner) My coach advised me to tuck in the middle somewhere, and try to run with some of the Seniors on our team.
I led.
A mile into the race, I think my legs had literally turned to stone with lactic acid buld up. I could taste blood in my mouth, and my lungs were simply on fire. I had never felt that sort of pain in any other sport before. (Perhaps leading was not one of my brighter ideas....) I begrudgingly made it to the finish line (definitely not in the lead), vowing I would never, ever, ever run again. I handed my singlet to my Coach, and told him I quit. Get ready to bring the demons back....
He smiled and said he would see me tomorrow at practice.
I loathed this sport like I loathed nothing else before. Yet, deep down in places I wouldn't admit to myself yet, I secretly loved that pain. It was exhilirating. There was nothing quite like pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion, and then pushing through. Could I grapple daily with that pain? Did I want to?
I returned at 6 am the next morning for the first workout of the day, then again at 3 pm for the second. I despised every deliriously wonderful painful second of it.
Running is a relationship. It is intimate, physical, and complicated. It will break your heart more times than not. Every time I talk to a new runner, I am always curious as to why they want to run. Why put yourself through that?
Why do I run? 25 years later, I don't have the complete answer. Running has provided me with more than I could ask of any relationship: career opportunities, friendships, challenges, triumphs...the list goes on and on. It has also broken my heart in a way that only something you embrace with your entire heart, soul, and body can. (I ran 4 marathons in 7 months trying to make the Olympic Trials and came up short. Yeah. Major, major heart break).
Running to me has always been about pushing your body to the brink, and no, I have never thought it was easy or fun. (big asterisk here: except for running while pregnant which I only run for fun and don't train). Perhaps I'm doing it all wrong. I love runners, the community of running, the mere thought of running, but I loathe the act of running. And that is why I love it. For the glimmer of a fraction of a second when your spirit transcends your body and you accomplish the impossible. It is a glimpse of the ethereal realm, and the demons fly.
So when you talk to your co-worker, neighbor or friend who is signing up for their first 5k, give them an extra word of encouragement, and let them know it will get easier. Running is not for the faint of heart, but the rewards are unmatched.
Why do you run?
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
New Balance Boston Indoor Games Recap: through the eyes of a 2-year old
What I have always enjoyed most about teaching, coaching, and being around young children is the refreshing perspective of the world that they have to offer. Sometimes I think with all of our collective adult experiences and education, we can still learn a lot from a 2 year old. They haven't developed any filters or biases yet, and see the world through a much clearer lens than we can.
My 2 year old daughter loves to watch any sort of running event (does the poor kid have a choice?). Sippy cup in hand, she grabbed her spot on the couch this past Saturday to cheer on the track athletes at the NB Indoor Games with me. Her commentary was much better than any ESPN Sportscast (in my very, very biased maternal opinion!):
1. Some boys and girls like to color their bodies before they do a run-run. Maybe I will color my arms. (The coolness appeal of tattoos starts young - really young)
2. Don't go until you hear a big boom.
3. Go really fast when you hear people playing bells.
4. That boy doesn't know how to play Red Rover. I think he wants his Mommy. (Sorry Rupp, she calls 'em like she sees 'em)
5. That girl really wants her Mommy to hold her. (Jenny Simpson probably wanted a lot of comforting things at that moment, I would imagine.)
6. The boys and girls who win Red Rover get prizes. They get flowers. I want prizes, too. (living room game of Red Rover ensues for the next 30 minutes and we go through a whole sheet of stickers as prizes).
7. I think next time I will go there and win the flowers. (give it a few years, honey, but I love the early confidence)
I'll try to carry some of that perspective with me the next time I step onto the oval. Maybe we are all just playing childhood games on a grander scale. That attitude would certainly help the nerves factor. Until then, I'll continue to sharpen my elbows and work on that turnover in spirted games of Red Rover and Red Light Green Light.
My 2 year old daughter loves to watch any sort of running event (does the poor kid have a choice?). Sippy cup in hand, she grabbed her spot on the couch this past Saturday to cheer on the track athletes at the NB Indoor Games with me. Her commentary was much better than any ESPN Sportscast (in my very, very biased maternal opinion!):
1. Some boys and girls like to color their bodies before they do a run-run. Maybe I will color my arms. (The coolness appeal of tattoos starts young - really young)
2. Don't go until you hear a big boom.
3. Go really fast when you hear people playing bells.
4. That boy doesn't know how to play Red Rover. I think he wants his Mommy. (Sorry Rupp, she calls 'em like she sees 'em)
5. That girl really wants her Mommy to hold her. (Jenny Simpson probably wanted a lot of comforting things at that moment, I would imagine.)
6. The boys and girls who win Red Rover get prizes. They get flowers. I want prizes, too. (living room game of Red Rover ensues for the next 30 minutes and we go through a whole sheet of stickers as prizes).
7. I think next time I will go there and win the flowers. (give it a few years, honey, but I love the early confidence)
I'll try to carry some of that perspective with me the next time I step onto the oval. Maybe we are all just playing childhood games on a grander scale. That attitude would certainly help the nerves factor. Until then, I'll continue to sharpen my elbows and work on that turnover in spirted games of Red Rover and Red Light Green Light.
 |
| Ella's First Race - Game Face on |
Monday, February 3, 2014
Disclaimer...and a pregnancy Top 10
Disclaimer: If you are pregnant, have been pregnant, thinking about becoming pregnant, and find nothing enjoyable about the pregnancy state, then this is not the post for you. If you think the pregnancy state rocks, read on....
Pregnancy is exactly that: a state. It is not an illness, disease, or handicap (although it does get you some leverage in the bathroom line...). Pregnant athletes today are not frail, fainting damsels in distress portrayed in the movies that should be relegated to the couch eating bon bons. Sometimes I need to remind myself that the simple phenomena of women running is a fairly new concept. After all, the first women to officially run the Boston Marathon was within my lifetime - 1972 (yeah, I'm old). The concept of women running, training, racing while pregnant? Well, now that is just starting to catch on. (Thank you Paula Radcliffe and Kara Goucher!)
When I was pregnant with Ella 3 years ago, there was almost nothing in the cyber world about women running let alone racing while pregnant. The only book I could find was Dr. Clapp "Exercising Through Your Pregnancy". (which I found very helpful). Both Kara Goucher and Paula Radcliffe blogged about their workouts - but Paula Radcliffe is the freakin' world record holder in the marathon, so I couldn't so much relate to her "jogging" track workouts 7 months pregnant at what is my normal race pace. I had heart anecdotal tales about some of my running peers doing workouts, but I wasn't comfortable with hitting the track or hills. Of course my main priority was to do what was best for my growing baby, and I knew that staying healthy was a key element.
Blazing your own trail and gathering a thick skin is sometimes the only course of action. Armed with little information, but an OK from my OB, I ran and even signed up for a a few fun races. Of course my pace was much slower, I wore a heart rate monitor, and never ran until I was out of breath. Did I get some less than kind remarks and looks? Of course. I knew that people never meant anything negatively - there is just not much known about running while pregnant, and doing it publicly put myself out there for judgement.
I ran until 37 weeks, when I was put on bed rest for high blood pressure. My normal blood pressure is ridiculously low (80/60) - so to see a systolic number approaching 200 was all that I needed to lay in bed for those 2 weeks and enjoy the calm before the storm. (I won't elaborate on the birth - Lauren Fleshman's birth experience blog could have been written by me and suffice it so say that there is no pain I have ever felt, or imagine ever will again, that can compare. Marathons shmarathons - nothing.)
3 years later, everybody seems to be talking and blogging about running and pregnancy. Fellow runners have asked me for advice - what I did while I was pregnant, etc. So.....here goes my Top 10 list of do's and don'ts. I'm no expert, but I did learn a lot through the experience:
1. Get an OB under 40 years of age - 30 if possible (just kidding, sort of)
The OB practice that I go to is comprised of OB's who run the philosophy gamut of "lay on your left side for 9 months" to Dr. Awesome, who is young and totally believes exercise is essential to a healthy pregnancy. I schedule my appointments with Dr. Awesome.
2. If you can't handle the fact that you will run slower and people will ask you "what happened to you today", don't sign up for a race.
It actually takes a lot of discipline to stay within yourself, monitor your breathing, and not get caught up in the competition. On the flip side, it's really fun and may cause you to fall in love with running all over again.
3.Plan your routes around porta-potties and friendly neighborhood bathrooms.
Just trust me on this one :)
4. You normally run like a gazelle - your stride is a thing of beauty! (at least in your own mind!). Ummm....not so much anymore. Think hippo donned with track spikes. You get the picture. Get over it - again, that thick skin thing.
5. Run with a friend or relative who always says "oh, I could never run with you".
It's a mutual feel good thing. My most cherished runs were those with my 70 year old Father (I'll do anything to be running the times he can run in his 70's) where we would talk, laugh, and just enjoy each other's company.
6. Remember that you are creating a new life.
Of course you have to walk sometimes! Of course somedays you simply will not be able to get out the door! Give yourself some latitude.
7. Volunteer at a local running event.
An awful lot goes on behind the scenes of any running event, and it really gives you perspective and a sense of appreciation.
8. Leave the watch at home.
This is a particularly helpful tip third trimester. In my mind, I was running the 4 mile loop sub 7's. In reality, my husband was ready to get in the car and come look for me I was gone so long.
9. It's always a heat wave.
Even in January. Seriously, your body runs a degree or two higher than normal during pregnancy - so just remember that on those steamy July days. I've been known to run through blizzards in scorn of the treadmill (dreadmill) - but a 95 degree day at 9 months pregnant - I'll take the climate controlled dreadmill.
10. It's all over in the blink of an eye.
Yes, there may be a day 8 months along when you think "this will never end" - look at all those lithe track runners! You will soon enough be a lithe track runner, with your gorgeous creation cheering
"Go Mommy", and you will feel a twinge of nostalgia for those days you waddled along, taking in the scenery, and feeling those little kicks.
Pregnancy is exactly that: a state. It is not an illness, disease, or handicap (although it does get you some leverage in the bathroom line...). Pregnant athletes today are not frail, fainting damsels in distress portrayed in the movies that should be relegated to the couch eating bon bons. Sometimes I need to remind myself that the simple phenomena of women running is a fairly new concept. After all, the first women to officially run the Boston Marathon was within my lifetime - 1972 (yeah, I'm old). The concept of women running, training, racing while pregnant? Well, now that is just starting to catch on. (Thank you Paula Radcliffe and Kara Goucher!)
When I was pregnant with Ella 3 years ago, there was almost nothing in the cyber world about women running let alone racing while pregnant. The only book I could find was Dr. Clapp "Exercising Through Your Pregnancy". (which I found very helpful). Both Kara Goucher and Paula Radcliffe blogged about their workouts - but Paula Radcliffe is the freakin' world record holder in the marathon, so I couldn't so much relate to her "jogging" track workouts 7 months pregnant at what is my normal race pace. I had heart anecdotal tales about some of my running peers doing workouts, but I wasn't comfortable with hitting the track or hills. Of course my main priority was to do what was best for my growing baby, and I knew that staying healthy was a key element.
Blazing your own trail and gathering a thick skin is sometimes the only course of action. Armed with little information, but an OK from my OB, I ran and even signed up for a a few fun races. Of course my pace was much slower, I wore a heart rate monitor, and never ran until I was out of breath. Did I get some less than kind remarks and looks? Of course. I knew that people never meant anything negatively - there is just not much known about running while pregnant, and doing it publicly put myself out there for judgement.
I ran until 37 weeks, when I was put on bed rest for high blood pressure. My normal blood pressure is ridiculously low (80/60) - so to see a systolic number approaching 200 was all that I needed to lay in bed for those 2 weeks and enjoy the calm before the storm. (I won't elaborate on the birth - Lauren Fleshman's birth experience blog could have been written by me and suffice it so say that there is no pain I have ever felt, or imagine ever will again, that can compare. Marathons shmarathons - nothing.)
3 years later, everybody seems to be talking and blogging about running and pregnancy. Fellow runners have asked me for advice - what I did while I was pregnant, etc. So.....here goes my Top 10 list of do's and don'ts. I'm no expert, but I did learn a lot through the experience:
1. Get an OB under 40 years of age - 30 if possible (just kidding, sort of)
The OB practice that I go to is comprised of OB's who run the philosophy gamut of "lay on your left side for 9 months" to Dr. Awesome, who is young and totally believes exercise is essential to a healthy pregnancy. I schedule my appointments with Dr. Awesome.
2. If you can't handle the fact that you will run slower and people will ask you "what happened to you today", don't sign up for a race.
It actually takes a lot of discipline to stay within yourself, monitor your breathing, and not get caught up in the competition. On the flip side, it's really fun and may cause you to fall in love with running all over again.
3.Plan your routes around porta-potties and friendly neighborhood bathrooms.
Just trust me on this one :)
4. You normally run like a gazelle - your stride is a thing of beauty! (at least in your own mind!). Ummm....not so much anymore. Think hippo donned with track spikes. You get the picture. Get over it - again, that thick skin thing.
5. Run with a friend or relative who always says "oh, I could never run with you".
It's a mutual feel good thing. My most cherished runs were those with my 70 year old Father (I'll do anything to be running the times he can run in his 70's) where we would talk, laugh, and just enjoy each other's company.
6. Remember that you are creating a new life.
Of course you have to walk sometimes! Of course somedays you simply will not be able to get out the door! Give yourself some latitude.
7. Volunteer at a local running event.
An awful lot goes on behind the scenes of any running event, and it really gives you perspective and a sense of appreciation.
8. Leave the watch at home.
This is a particularly helpful tip third trimester. In my mind, I was running the 4 mile loop sub 7's. In reality, my husband was ready to get in the car and come look for me I was gone so long.
9. It's always a heat wave.
Even in January. Seriously, your body runs a degree or two higher than normal during pregnancy - so just remember that on those steamy July days. I've been known to run through blizzards in scorn of the treadmill (dreadmill) - but a 95 degree day at 9 months pregnant - I'll take the climate controlled dreadmill.
10. It's all over in the blink of an eye.
Yes, there may be a day 8 months along when you think "this will never end" - look at all those lithe track runners! You will soon enough be a lithe track runner, with your gorgeous creation cheering
"Go Mommy", and you will feel a twinge of nostalgia for those days you waddled along, taking in the scenery, and feeling those little kicks.
 |
| See? Running during pregnancy can be fun! 2/2/14 (5k race 19:12)- 22 weeks Photo courtesy of Ted Tyler |
Friday, January 31, 2014
To move forward you must know where you have been....
This blog has been swirling around in my head for quite some time and I figure it's about time pen met paper - err...keystrokes meet computer. I've had many runners ask me about running/training during pregnancy and the postpartum comeback, so here goes.....
But first, I would like to bid adieu to 2013 with it's proper dues.
For most runners, 2013 will be remembered as "Oh, that Boston". The running community, especially with the evolution of social media, is an increasingly "small world". What touches one runner has a ripple effect on the entire running community. This was never more evident than with the Boston Marathon bombings. Runners took this very personally - it was like an attack on the fabric that comprises a community that represents all that is good, noble, and pure. After that day, we are all intrinsically connected in a way that we didn't ask for, but we'll take it and allow it to permeate our very soul so that we are all better human beings....and runners.
On April 15th I attended the Boston Marathon with my husband and then 18 month old daughter. She has been cheering Mommy on since she was 9 weeks old, and loves to watch and cheer on runners. She marveled at the wheel chair racers, and encouraged them to "paddle on". We stayed to watch the lead runners, and a few of my friends who I knew would be Sub 3. As fate would have it, we didn't go to the finish line as we usually did as 18 month-old toddlers are prone to melt downs, and she was done after 2 hours. We left the city, and she napped blissfully in the back seat.
Fast forward 24 hours later. I stood on the starting line for what was probably the first race in the country post-Boston - the "Rose Maguire Great Women's Chase". I would be lying if I didn't say that for the first time in my life, I was scared. Not the typical pre-race nerves, but the deep unsettled feeling that all I loved about running had been irrevocably scarred somehow. I felt a different sort of anger - a bubbling beneath my skin that made me want to do something, but I didn't know what. So, I relied on what was familiar to me - releasing and vanquishing demons by running til' I collapse. I won $100 that day for holding off the men. All I thought about the entire run was the man from my town - (Chelmsford) who was on the cover of virtually every newspaper and magazine that day. I ran til' I dropped (literally) to get that $100 to give to his chartiy. I later learned his name...Jeff Bauman.
On a scorching July day the 1st annual "Run for Bauman" was held in Chelmsford. My husband and I ran the 2.62 mile race to raise funds for Jeff in the middle of a 14 mile training run for the famous #FalmouthRoadRace - the race I had my sights on all year. Falmouth was one month away and I had punished my body all summer with the hopes of finally placing as a Master. This would be my 25th Falmouth, and I was proverbially always a bridesmaid in the placing department.
This year at Falmouth was the inaugural women's elite start, and I was invited. Number pick-up was at the High School, and I was pleasantly surprised to see none other than Jeff Bauman in the back of the gym. I surmised he was quite the reluctant hero, but the media had made him the face of the Boston Marathon Bombing. He was in a wheelchair, sans prosthetics, and I flirted with the idea of going over to say "hi". Having a 23 month old in tow, I had no idea what she may say. Would she stare? Would she say something inappropriate? With my heart in my mouth, I took the plunge and brought her over to introduce ourselves as fellow Chelmsford residents. Ella (my daughter) smiled at Jeff and asked if he "paddled". God, do I love that kid. We talked about "normal" things - the housing market, the beautiful weather this weekend, and I honestly think he enjoyed a brief respite from his new reality with an intercession of normalcy. He was in town as the honorary starter of the race.
Not everybody believes in fate, but I happen to be a firm believer. Every year we go to the finish line of the Boston Marathon to meet our friend - the best man in our wedding who serves as the lead medic for the elite athletes at the finish line. He happened to have the flu this year, so we didn't go. #Powerbar had asked me to volunteer to work at Marathon Sports the afternoon of April 15th. I decided it was more important to spend the day exposing my daughter to the wonder that is the Boston Marathon. She had a meltdown - we left early. Maybe I'm just lucky. I stood on the starting line of the Falmouth Road Race along with 32 other elite females on August 11th and glanced up at Jeff Bauman with air horn in hand (no gun, per his request). The pre-Boston me would have been intimidated - do I belong here? My only thought that morning was how truly blessed I was to be here, and this was my Masters race to lose. All I had to do was do the only thing I know how to do best: put one foot in front of the other as fast as I could and let the cards fall where they may.
Ella and my Mother were at the 5 and a half mile mark, with her beautiful "Go Mommy" sign and her cowbell. I left the "zone" for 3 seconds to give her a smile and a wave, and then put my head down until I crested Surf Drive. At the bottom of the hill the male winner had just crossed the line, and before me waved the gorgeous American Flag as the finish line beckoned me to leave it all out there.
I stood on the podium that day, waving to my daughter, as the 1st Place Female Master at the 2013 Falmouth Road Race.
Life ebbs and flows; that is just the way it is. Two weeks later, I fell during a race and tore my hamstring. Injuries are as much a part of running as the training is - it's what keeps us hungry and appreciative. What I always miss most when I am injured is the comradarie - the shared pain of the track workout that makes us our own breed of "Band of Brothers". The community that I have always been proud to call myself a member of has never been more vibrant or more connected. Every runner carries a sense of something deeper that calls us to the roads after the events of 2013.
On a cold January 2014 evening I return from my "jog", ready for the next adventure that is 2014: five and a half months pregnant, deliriously happy, and contemplating some unsettled business to attend to on the roads, tracks, and trails later this year....
Light follows darkness. Always.
But first, I would like to bid adieu to 2013 with it's proper dues.
For most runners, 2013 will be remembered as "Oh, that Boston". The running community, especially with the evolution of social media, is an increasingly "small world". What touches one runner has a ripple effect on the entire running community. This was never more evident than with the Boston Marathon bombings. Runners took this very personally - it was like an attack on the fabric that comprises a community that represents all that is good, noble, and pure. After that day, we are all intrinsically connected in a way that we didn't ask for, but we'll take it and allow it to permeate our very soul so that we are all better human beings....and runners.
On April 15th I attended the Boston Marathon with my husband and then 18 month old daughter. She has been cheering Mommy on since she was 9 weeks old, and loves to watch and cheer on runners. She marveled at the wheel chair racers, and encouraged them to "paddle on". We stayed to watch the lead runners, and a few of my friends who I knew would be Sub 3. As fate would have it, we didn't go to the finish line as we usually did as 18 month-old toddlers are prone to melt downs, and she was done after 2 hours. We left the city, and she napped blissfully in the back seat.
Fast forward 24 hours later. I stood on the starting line for what was probably the first race in the country post-Boston - the "Rose Maguire Great Women's Chase". I would be lying if I didn't say that for the first time in my life, I was scared. Not the typical pre-race nerves, but the deep unsettled feeling that all I loved about running had been irrevocably scarred somehow. I felt a different sort of anger - a bubbling beneath my skin that made me want to do something, but I didn't know what. So, I relied on what was familiar to me - releasing and vanquishing demons by running til' I collapse. I won $100 that day for holding off the men. All I thought about the entire run was the man from my town - (Chelmsford) who was on the cover of virtually every newspaper and magazine that day. I ran til' I dropped (literally) to get that $100 to give to his chartiy. I later learned his name...Jeff Bauman.
On a scorching July day the 1st annual "Run for Bauman" was held in Chelmsford. My husband and I ran the 2.62 mile race to raise funds for Jeff in the middle of a 14 mile training run for the famous #FalmouthRoadRace - the race I had my sights on all year. Falmouth was one month away and I had punished my body all summer with the hopes of finally placing as a Master. This would be my 25th Falmouth, and I was proverbially always a bridesmaid in the placing department.
This year at Falmouth was the inaugural women's elite start, and I was invited. Number pick-up was at the High School, and I was pleasantly surprised to see none other than Jeff Bauman in the back of the gym. I surmised he was quite the reluctant hero, but the media had made him the face of the Boston Marathon Bombing. He was in a wheelchair, sans prosthetics, and I flirted with the idea of going over to say "hi". Having a 23 month old in tow, I had no idea what she may say. Would she stare? Would she say something inappropriate? With my heart in my mouth, I took the plunge and brought her over to introduce ourselves as fellow Chelmsford residents. Ella (my daughter) smiled at Jeff and asked if he "paddled". God, do I love that kid. We talked about "normal" things - the housing market, the beautiful weather this weekend, and I honestly think he enjoyed a brief respite from his new reality with an intercession of normalcy. He was in town as the honorary starter of the race.
Not everybody believes in fate, but I happen to be a firm believer. Every year we go to the finish line of the Boston Marathon to meet our friend - the best man in our wedding who serves as the lead medic for the elite athletes at the finish line. He happened to have the flu this year, so we didn't go. #Powerbar had asked me to volunteer to work at Marathon Sports the afternoon of April 15th. I decided it was more important to spend the day exposing my daughter to the wonder that is the Boston Marathon. She had a meltdown - we left early. Maybe I'm just lucky. I stood on the starting line of the Falmouth Road Race along with 32 other elite females on August 11th and glanced up at Jeff Bauman with air horn in hand (no gun, per his request). The pre-Boston me would have been intimidated - do I belong here? My only thought that morning was how truly blessed I was to be here, and this was my Masters race to lose. All I had to do was do the only thing I know how to do best: put one foot in front of the other as fast as I could and let the cards fall where they may.
Ella and my Mother were at the 5 and a half mile mark, with her beautiful "Go Mommy" sign and her cowbell. I left the "zone" for 3 seconds to give her a smile and a wave, and then put my head down until I crested Surf Drive. At the bottom of the hill the male winner had just crossed the line, and before me waved the gorgeous American Flag as the finish line beckoned me to leave it all out there.
I stood on the podium that day, waving to my daughter, as the 1st Place Female Master at the 2013 Falmouth Road Race.
Life ebbs and flows; that is just the way it is. Two weeks later, I fell during a race and tore my hamstring. Injuries are as much a part of running as the training is - it's what keeps us hungry and appreciative. What I always miss most when I am injured is the comradarie - the shared pain of the track workout that makes us our own breed of "Band of Brothers". The community that I have always been proud to call myself a member of has never been more vibrant or more connected. Every runner carries a sense of something deeper that calls us to the roads after the events of 2013.
On a cold January 2014 evening I return from my "jog", ready for the next adventure that is 2014: five and a half months pregnant, deliriously happy, and contemplating some unsettled business to attend to on the roads, tracks, and trails later this year....
Light follows darkness. Always.
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