This morning I wake up and, for the second time this week, I feel like someone beat me in my sleep with a baseball bat. I would blame Andy, but he lacks opposable thumbs.

Andy

My lower back hurts, my piriformis syndrome hurts and once I actually get out of bed I’m hobbling because all the tiny bones in my feet hurt. Everyone keeps asking when I’m going to break? Now. I decide to suck it up and get out for a run because I have a 50 miler to hold me accountable in November and I can’t rework 7 miles into another part of the week. I make a new playlist on my iPod and throw on my Semper Fi Fund t-shirt, knowing that today I may need some extra inspiration. (Never put anything in the first act that’s not in the finale).

I do a 4 mile loop through Squirrel Hill, running by Mister Roger’s house, and am thankful when crews doing roadwork stop traffic in both ways for me so I can run without worrying about getting hit by a car (foreshadowing). I finish up back near my place and decide I feel good enough for another 3 mile loop. In fact, I’m feeling great. I’m FLYING. Hallelujah it’s the redemption run I’ve been needing for weeks. As I run through Bloomfield there is some sort of car accident. I can’t figure out what it is- there are three police cars, a crowd of people and a police man driving an intact car off the sidewalk. Not sure, but I run on. About two miles later I finally hit a long downhill to home as Citizen’s Cope “Let the Drummer Kick” (modified in my head to “Let the runner kick”) comes on my iPod. I feel like I’m in a commercial. My music is rocking, I’m flying (I look down at my watch and I’m running in the 7s- unheard of on training runs) and when I see a police car go by I’m thankful they got the accident cleared up. In my head I have the following dialogue:

7 minute miles. Keep going girl. Finish strong. This feels great. Run hard. Push. Rock this. Car. CAR!

I’m careful when I run because I have so many friends who have been hit by cars, but out of nowhere on my right I see a blue car. My brain, thank god, is known for going a million miles a minute:

Car. ****. He's running a red. Gotta minimize impact. JUMP!

My stride was perfect and if I would have been running my normal speed I never would have been able to do what I did. I’m still not sure how I did it. I just had this completely lucid moment where I realized that my left foot would plant by the front left corner of the car and if I swung my right leg in a scissor kick I might be able to jump on the hood of the car and minimize injury. Next thing I know, I’m on the hood of the car, we’ve travelled into the intersection and I hear the driver through his open window saying “oh my god, oh my god.”  He’s smoking and I hate the cigarette smoke. A cop comes from out of nowhere and begins asking if I’m okay.

Am I okay? I feel fine. I can wiggle my fingers and toes (I’m so the child of a neurosurgeon) and my head didn’t hit anything. I’m actually just chilling, sitting on the hood of the car. My left ankle starts to sting and I realize I hit the ankle bone on the license plate holder or the bumper. My right hip hurts because that’s what I landed on. The driver is apologizing, the cop is asking everyone questions, traffic is starting to pile up because even though we’re in a quiet neighborhood, we’re in one of the bigger intersections. I feel like the next few minutes are chaos- they may or may not have been. Finally, as the cop stops asking me questions (he was annoyed that I wasn’t carrying ID which is ironic because Drake Well was sponsored by RoadID but the people who pulled the tags off my bib also ripped off my coupon!) and turns his attention to the driver, I notice that his car is parked half a block down and that he was the cop who drove by a few seconds before I was hit.

I asked the cop how he saw the accident since he had already driven past when I was hit. He said that when I was running through Bloomfield at the site of the first accident I had run by that he overheard one of the members of the crowd point me out as the girl who ran a marathon in Alaska for injured Marines. I wasn’t going to correct him. I didn’t see anyone I knew in the crowd and don’t know anyone who would have been in Bloomfield at that time of day, so I wonder if it was someone who recognized me from the newspaper (recently I’ve been meeting a bunch of peopel who remember me). The police office said that as he drove by me he saw my Semper Fi Fund shirt, and wanted to see who was crazy enough to run a marathon in Alaska. As he was looking back in his mirror to try to see my face he saw me get hit. He told me that he couldn’t believe how I avoided the car- I must be a gymnast or ninja. I’ll take ninja. Anyone who knows me knows that I am wildly ungraceful so I have no idea how my ninja skills came out, but I’ll take it.

When I finally got home, I walked in and Andy ran to the door, like he always does, to greet me. I bent down to pet him, feeling kind of stiff but definitely not like I’d been hit by a ton of metal, and he began to play with my shoelaces like we always do when I get back from a run. For some reason, interacting with Andy made the whole experience hit me like a ton of bricks. If I were running slower, if the driver hadn’t slowed down, if it would have been an SUV and not a car- any number of variables could have lead to a much worse outcome and possibly to me not coming home to my favorite little guy. Really scary but it makes me wildly thankful. I just got off the phone with my little brother who says that I've met my quota of almost really bad injuries (broken hand, heart arrythmia, hit by a car) and hopefully I'm done for the year! I hope so, too!! I have so earned my vacation in two weeks- if I survive that long!  

When I started this blog, I said I’d post the good, bad and ugly. This is the ugly.

Pre-Race

In 2007 my New Year’s resolution was to either do a triathlon or run a marathon; we know which one I picked. Tris always seemed cool, I’ve always been a swimmer, I’ve recently become a runner, and when I bought a bike in April, I knew I had to knock a triathlon off my list. The Pittsburgh Triathlon seemed perfect: the timing didn’t interfere with any races and a hometown race makes logistics so much easier. I opted to do the Olympic, not sprint, distance because I swim 2,000 to 3,000 meters a few times a week, a 10K is my easy recovery run and… well, the bike would be an adventure. Marc, an Ironman I met picking up my packet, tells me that it takes about 5 years to get good on a bike- I’ve been biking for three months. And although I love my bike, she’s heavy (23 lbs?) and doesn’t have clipless pedals (I plan to upgrade next year). I’m not looking to break any records, especially since I didn’t train for this race beyond my usual running and cross-training routine.

Pre-Race Meeting 

Race Day

A cool, cloudy, but pretty morning. I befriended Nora and Kate who appear to be in my age group and who are my bike rack buddies. They are super nice and are each racing their third tri. Although they are nice, I am intimidated. I don’t know if I’ve ever been intimidated. I don’t get intimidated. But everywhere I look, I see really impressive bikes with athletes who look like they’ve stepped out of a fitness magazine. These athletes put the female Annies runners to shame. Seriously, if people want to know the secret to looking young and beautiful, have them show up to a triathlon or ultramarathon.

Athlete's setting up in the transition area 

We head to the start and I run into Jill, one of Jen’s friends who I once ran with. It was Jill who encouraged me to sign up for the Pittsburgh tri, telling me the river didn’t have a current, the skyline was gorgeous (she said she had tears in her goggles she was so moved) and the bike has a slight incline but wasn’t too bad.

Jill is a liar.

Swim

Swim location: Allegheny River at the Roberto Clemente Bridge

I’m a swimmer. I’m psyched for the swim, possibly more than I’m psyched for the run. I’m ready to knock this out of the park. I grew up swimming, I’m a diver, I coached elite swimmers, I lifeguarded for years; you get the idea. I’m strong and comfortable in the water- possibly more so than on land.

We watch the first two waves start (women were in the third wave) and Jill and I notice that the current has swept the swimmers back about 75 yards while they were waiting to start. “Hmmm… looks like there’s a current this year,” states Jill. I’m not thrilled, but I’m also not concerned because, as I said, I’m good in the water.

It’s time for our wave and as I get in I immediately realize something is very wrong. I cannot breathe. I can’t breathe in, I can’t breathe out. I’m gasping. It feels like when I breathe air isn’t getting to my lungs, it’s just stopping in my throat. I know that it’s not uncommon for people to freak out in open water but I’m not freaking out; I’ve been SCUBA certified for 14 years and have done dozens of open water dives and swims- some in cold, murky water. Freaking out isn’t the issue but I have no idea what is.

I swim some combination of backstroke and side stroke for what seems like forever. I can’t even swim breast stroke, my breathing is so out of control. I’m glad I’m comfortable in the water because someone who was less comfortable and experiencing the sensations I was having could have been in trouble. I am safe but I am p!ssed. Livid. Furious. Fuming. There are not words for how angry and frustrated I am. I should be kicking @ss in the swim and my competition is leaving me in the dust. I’m the last in my wave and I feel like it’s totally out of my control. All I want to do is breathe and I can’t. A guy from an earlier wave swims near me, comments on how strong the current is, and heads back to shore. Suddenly, it seems completely out of nowhere, I felt 100% better. It’s like someone took my chest out of a vise- relief is immediate. I finally start swimming, but I have lost so much time and energy creeping up the river with strokes less efficient than freestyle. By the end of the swim I had picked off about a half dozen swimmers, chipping away at some of my deficit.

My swim takes 59 minutes-more than double what it should have. There are not words for how I feel about this. Even writing this report I am in tears because I have never, in my quarter century of swimming, had anything close to this happen. I didn’t even want to write this report because I am so embarrassed by that time; I am only writing in hopes that someone can get something out of it.

I head out to transition but the swim really played head games with me. I was planning to use the swim and the run to make up for my biking and now I’m down two sports of three. Mentally it gets worse as I come into transition to see people leaving for the run. WTF?!

Bike

The bike course is 2 runs of an out and back course. As I start on the first go, people immediately start lapping me. Gahhhh, so demoralizing. This is only made worse by what is roughly a 5 mile climb. Jill has lived in Pittsburgh too long and has lost perspective on hills. This is not a slight incline. As I pedal I wonder at one point if I could run faster. F*ck. I gut it out on the bike but my biking is pathetic and I wasn’t expecting anything pretty. The last 6 or so miles I ran over someone’s helmet sticker which subsequently adhered to my tire and made the most obnoxious flapping sound over and over and over and over again. FML. Bike time: 1:44. 14.3 mph pace. I suck at biking but it’s what I expected.

I am SO HAPPY to get into transition until I realize that people are already packing up and going home. I’ve been known to get teary when I have great runs and for a quick second I get choked up by how badly I suck at this race. At this point I am 307 of 310 finishers. I am so over this triathlon right now. Coming into the race, I just wanted to finish, but that was only because I never thought I’d do SO badly.

Run

Everyone told me my legs would be dead after the bike but they were good to go. I’ve run this course before and it’s not a hard course, but it’s not easy, either. It’s on a trail but I really want to be running on the road so I can transfer energy more efficiently. I crush out mile 1 at 8:19, which is solid for me, especially during the last leg of a triathlon. Then it starts to drizzle. I don’t love running in the rain, but this is motivation to get this done more quickly. Miles 2 and 3 were uneventful. Then it started to POUR. Animals lined up in 2s. I’m not wearing a hat and the rain is in my eyes. The smell of the river is seeping out of my clothes. I want to be done. I see two runners ahead of me who could be in my age group, hereafter named Blueberry (the color of her shirt) and Cool Blue (cool baby blue singlet that was identical to mine ). I pick off Cool Blue pretty easily, but chase Blueberry for 2 miles. I finally pass her in the last mile and I honestly feel kind of guilty about it. I’m not quite out-kicking her with a full mile left, but after a long morning, it probably feels pretty lousy to be passed at the end. Overall, I was able to pick off about a dozen athletes during the run. I finish with a decent 10K pace and a PR for the course (53:57/8:40 pace). At the finish I am handed this tiny little medal the size of a dog tag on a chain; I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. All that work for this little bitty thing?

Tiny little medal in the upper left. 

I’d rather have pie. 

My pie from last week   

Post-Race

It is raining BUCKETS. There is an inch of standing water in the parking lot; my transition area is soaked. On the drive home roads are flooded and I can barely see where I am going. Before I leave, I run into Elora’s dad, Dan. As we stand in the rain, we discuss how hard the bike course was and he congratulates me on my first tri. Maybe I should be congratulated; I finished an Olympic triathlon without training for it. But I am so abundantly disappointed in my race. Falling behind in the swim absolutely crushed me…. Not only was my swim abysmal, but it put me behind for the rest of the race. I’m torn between saying that tris aren’t for me and sticking with ultra running, but I also want vindication. I know I have much better in me and I want a race reflecting that. With a decent swim I would have finished around 3:05; instead I finished at 3:41. Again, disappointment is only a shade of what I feel. For now, the plan is to run the Drake Well marathon, hosted by my friend Dane, in two weeks; maybe if I can find a local tri I’ll give it another go.

Today my running friend, Jen, and I went to Hartwood Acres to run some trails. The goal of the day was to hit double digit miles, explore (we couldn't find a trail map before leaving) and have fun. It was a perfect day to hit some single track trails. We also ran by horse stables and huge open fields- it was absolutely gorgeous!

Along our run we developed a point system:

-10 points for each fall (3 x 10= -30, all my fault)

+8 for each fall that draws blood (2 x 8 =16, all my fault, see photos below)

+1 for realizing I lost my sunglasses in fall #1 (1 point)

+5 for every almost fall turned recovery (5 x 5 = 25, 3 Jen, 2 me)

+1 for every mile (10 x 1= 10)

We definitely ended up in the positive, even though my first fall hit me kind of hard. My neighbor (a doctor) thinks I may have broken my hand (black, blue, swollen), but it doesn't hurt too badly so I'm holding out on the ER. But, check out the beating my legs took:

I can't wait to head back there for more running this summer and fall, as I prep for JFK!

Hey there loyal readers. My friend Dane is a finalist for the Energizer Keep Going Hall of Fame. Dane is the author of See Dane Run, the story of how he ran 52 marathons in 52 days all while working as a lawyer, to raise money ($44,000) for L'Arche-Mobile. He has also run the Baltimore and Pittsburgh marathons as the last runner to start, earning money for every runner he passed, to benefit local organizations. Please click here to vote for him in support a runner who is devoted to helping our community.

Borrowed from his Facebook because I know my blog readers are suckers for runners and kids 

Signing Up

I’m not sure why I signed up. I spoke with Toby and a few other friends who run Ultras and the general advice I received was 1) train in similar conditions (i.e. trails) and 2) run a marathon 6 weeks out (Pittsburgh) and another 3 weeks out (Vermont City). I was planning to run Pittsburgh, and Vermont fell into place so although I hadn’t trained on trails I thought I’d be in good shape to run the race. It was also my birthday weekend, so what better way to celebrate? I might be older, but signing up for this ultra shows that I am clearly not wiser.

Pre-Race

I go to the pasta dinner and meet lots of lovely people, many of whom are veteran ultra marathoners, Ironmen, and the like. The food is good and everyone is positive and encouraging- I love runners. Tim Hewitt, one of the race directors gets up to describe the course and someone at our table mentioned that he ran the Iditarod. After he spoke, I asked if he had been in the Post-Gazette in March (he had) and I erroneously thought that he was the runner who shared my article about Antarctica. He wasn’t, but he sat next to me for dinner and it opened up a really interesting conversation where I found out that he was the first American finisher at Badwater, he was the winner of the Iditarod (1,100 miles!!), and he was the only man to run it twice. I went to the Inn where I was staying and it was quaint and beautiful. I had an amazing room with a fireplace and four post bed. A few other runners were staying there and it was just lovely getting to know them and hear how they came to toe the line.

Race Day

I’ve been told that the bus that takes you to the start is hard to find so I follow Brian, a Laurel Highland veteran staying at the Inn. I notice that a) we are late and b) Brian drives roughly 75 mph. We make it with three minutes to spare (usually I’d leave more cushion) but I’m not going to fuss since I made it. I make friends on the bus and at the start and after a half hour, I begin the race with 65 of my newest friends. We run on paved road for a half a mile and then turn onto the trail. I have a feeling I’m in trouble when the start of the trail is steep log steps. The first three miles are up. The rise is spread over a few miles so the climbs are manageable, especially if you’re willing to walk (the racers around me are). The trail is technical enough that now I understand why experienced runners recommended I train on similar terrain. The rocks are slippery with morning dew, rocks and roots are frequent and there are enough patches of mud. It wouldn’t be hard to hurt yourself pretty badly in a fall or misstep. I frequently have images of myself falling forward and smashing my teeth on a rock. This is when I’m not looking out for snakes and bears, which are said to have been seen on the course.

I paid to do this?!

Read above about being older, not wiser.

The descents are fairly steep and even though it’s early my legs are wobbly from the hills which makes it tough. The runners spread out and I’m quickly by myself until about mile 6 where Roger, another vet, catches up with me. We chat (amongst other things, he tells me that this race is one of the hardest 50Ks in the nation- I didn’t know that when I signed up!) and run for about two miles until the hill at mile 8. This hill sucks.

I know why it’s one of the hardest 50Ks in the nation. I’ve run four marathons in 2 months- I’m in good shape. Although I’m walking it, I need to stop several times on this hill- I can’t catch my breath, my heart is beating out of my chest, my legs are burning and I’m dizzy. It’s frigg’n mile 8. It thankfully gets easier from here.

I run on until the first aid station at mile 11. I love ultramarathon aid stations. All volunteers at all races are wonderful, but at an ultra you can actually stop to thank people. And should I have thanked them- bless their hearts they took my sweaty, muddy Camelback and filled it for me because I was too dizzy. I eat gummy bears like my life depends on it, find out that one aid station volunteer is a faculty member at CMU who is about to run a hundred-miler, and then head on my way. I run a mile or so when Art catches up to me. Art is my race angel. Art has run 291 ultra marathons and 2xx marathons. He’s logged about 64,000 race miles and once ran the entire Laurel Highlands trail out and back (140 miles!) just for fun. Art is in his early 70s and is walking about as fast as I can run. I stick with him and gasp and wheeze (my asthma was poorly controlled in this race) while he trucks along and tells me stories of his adventures (“I got to 500 marathons/ultramarathons and then really got crazy”). He makes this look so easy and I’d hate him if he wasn’t keeping me going at a faster pace than I’d manage on my own. I lose him at another steep hill at mile 18 and only catch him as he’s leaving the mile 19 aid station. Mile 19 volunteers are runners from St. Vincent college. At this point I grab what looks like Gatorade and is the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. I recently tried miracle fruit, and this drink tasted like something that was enhanced. What was this wonderful elixir, sent from the ultramarathoning Gods? Mountain Dew. Mountain Dew?!?! I hate soda. I certainly hate Mountain Dew. I just go with it, because it’s that kind of day.

I’ve lost my buddies and I’m on my own. It’s mile 19 and I’m tired. I start thinking about several things:

1. My MCM friend and trail ultra runner extraordinaire gave me a mantra. I can only remember 2/3 of it: forward motion. Perpetuate forward motion? Perpetual forward motion? Purposeful forward motion? I spend a long time thinking of appropriate phrases about forward motion.

2. My other MCM and ultra runner friend, Jimmy, is a Marine and in Vermont he serenaded some ladies in skirts with cadence. I made variations of Jimmy’s cadence that shouldn’t be posted here.

3. I counted. This sounds simple and silly but it was my lifesaver. From mile 19 until mile 31 I counted each step from 1 to 4 over and over and over again. When the terrain was passable it helped me keep moving forward at a solid pace. When the terrain was challenging all I had to do was take four steps at a time. 1, 2, 3, 4. Perpetual forward motion.

Note that this isn't me. This was a picture I lifted from the internet and is some nice person hiking the trail. I didn't use poles and only carried a Camelback.

At mile 28ish I swear I’m hallucinating. I hear someone cheering for me. In the middle of nowhere. I think I hear them say “do you need water?” I look around and can’t see anyone. Maybe a tenth of a mile later I come down the trail to find a sweet couple standing there. I’m delirious and don’t want to stop moving, but I am so happy I’m not losing my mind. No more than a half a mile later a man I passed at mile 19.5 comes up behind me. Where did he come from?! We shuffle along together (I find out the sweet couple were his parents) until we reach mile 29 and climb yet another  frigg’n hill. Give me a break! So. Over. Hills. And rocks. I’ve rolled my left ankle a dozen times and I’ve kicked so many rocks with my left big toe that at one point I actually thought I might have broken it. As Matt (aka Mr. Second Wind) runs ahead I become confused and think that we just hit mile 28, not mile 29. I become demoralized, realizing that I had further to go than I thought. Stupid glycogen depletion. I stay demoralized until I hit mile 30 and realize I only have a mile left to go! One mile! And I have an hour and 20 minutes! I get a little choked up, realizing that I am about to finish my first ultra- a hard one at that- but refuse to cry. Ultramarathoners don’t cry! So I pick it up and run as much as my ankle and toe allow, finishing in 8:47 (almost exactly twice as long as my marathon PR- a formula that held for other runners I knew).

When I ran Antarctica I learned that I could push my body and mind further than I realized. I’ve worked to continue to push myself- PRing in marathons and running an ultra. Everyone always wonders what’s next. I don’t know. If you would have told me in 2007 that I would have run 6 marathons and an ultra, I would have told you that you were crazy. If you would have told me six months ago that I would love road biking and want to do a tri this summer, I would have told you that you were crazy. Right now I’d think you were crazy if you told me I was going to run a 50 miler or try an Ironman… but at this rate you wouldn’t be the crazy one. Here’s to whatever crazy adventure the future might hold.

Pre-Race

Like Shamrock, I have no goals for the Pittsburgh marathon other than to have fun. I skipped my 20 miler between Shamrock and Pittsburgh and I don’t know what effect two marathons in the previous two months will have on my performance. After PRing at pancake flat Shamrock, I don’t have high expectations for a fast time at hilly Pittsburgh.

I wake up at 5 am and Shell, Ike and I eat breakfast and get ready. We meet up with some friends at Craig’s hotel and there is lots of nervous and excited energy. Shell and I line up towards the back of the 10:00 min/mile pace group. I run into my Girl’s on the Run co-coach, Laura, and her roommate, Shannon and after a few minutes of nervous chatter, we’re off and running!

The Race

We take off through the Strip District and my favorite spectator is a Scottish bagpiper. I’m bopping along, running a very comfortable 10 min pace when I see Megan, another Girls on the Run coach, who is running the half with her husband Nathan (who mentioned he’s read this blog: Hi Nathan!). We chat for a few minutes but we subsequently part ways. Shortly after at mile 4 as we cross the bridge to the North Shore, I hear someone cheer for me, then cheer for Shell. I look to see Shell fly past in the beginning of leap-frogging that will go on for the next 10 miles. I catch Shell around mile 5 and we begin to run together. I see a man who looks familiar and after a moment I realize it is Luke Ravenstahl. I point to him, telling Shell “That’s our mayor!” and he looks at me and cheers for me by name. Cool.

I’ve been battling my bladder for around 7 miles when I see an overpass that serves as my first pit stop. I lose Shell as she runs ahead, but I catch her around mile 8 and we run onto the South Side hooping, hollering and cheering for anyone and everyone. I lose her at the mile 9 water stop as it begins to rain. Usually I hate rain, but for some reason, I’m not too bothered. The course support dwindles but I continue to keep thanking spectators and volunteers. Leaving the South Side at mile 12 I head up the hill on Forbes towards Oakland. I was planning to walk the hill if needed, but I felt really strong for mile 12 so I ran it, excited to be in Oakland where I work and go to school. I’m particularly excited to see my office where I make pit stop #2; just one of many benefits to being on my home turf.

As I go back on the course I catch up to Shell around mile 13.5. I lose her for the last time just after the water stop after mile 14, but not before I tell her some of Mister Rogers’ Pittsburgh history (i.e. he was a pianist and all the piano music in the show was music that he played; Mr. McFeely is currently faculty at Duquesne). Mile 14.5 I see volunteers from Shadyside Presbyterian Church, where Megan (see above) is a member. I know through Megan’s blog that they put a lot of thought into supporting the marathoners so I make an extra effort to thank them. As I come upon the relay exchange point I see two friendly faces: Steph and Jen! I excitedly do a crazy arm-swinging windmill run across the course for high-fives and then head onto Walnut Street. I see my friend Rich, an incredibly accomplished runner. I realize I want to hug him but also realize I can’t stop, so I run into him full speed with my arms out, embracing at impact. I later found out he wasn’t running because of cracked ribs! Ah! I’m so sorry!! He runs a few paces with me and passes me a bottle of Powerbar electrolyte drink and I happily take it and run ahead. Not more than a quarter of a mile later I see my friend Aimee and her husband Patrick (more crazy windmill arm-swinging excited running) and Aimee runs with me for a brief bit. I’m on a total high from seeing so many friends when I see another- Laura’s roommate Ryan! This is the best mile ever!

Around mile 16 I realize that I am feeling exponentially stronger than I ever have during a marathon. I’m still keeping my pace between 9:50 and 10:10ish and I don’t feel the need to slow down. We run through Homewood and I see old women in housecoats on their porches staying out of the drizzle. I wave at them and they’re so happy to be acknowledged. As we turn into Highland Park I am happy to be back in familiar territory. I didn’t realize all the people I would see here. I see a faculty member who I wave at then no more than a few houses down I see another faculty member and a first year grad student who so sweetly cheer me on. The spectators here are fantastic and as I run by a coffee shop men start chanting my name- “Kat! Kat! Kat!” I feel like a rock star! As I continue to run I see another graduate student friend and I’m so thrilled by my good fortune that I forget to look for my running partner Jen, her husband Robert and their daughter Abby. She saw me and yelled, but I had my iPod on by this point, so I unfortunately didn’t hear her. One man actually turned to me to comment on my popularity! I felt so supported on this course!

Coming out of Highland Park I’m still not slowing down. In fact, I feel really strong and I know there’s a big downhill ahead. As I start to pick up the pace a bit I see one of the girls I coach and I freak out, I am so excited to see her! Running through Bloomfield is a huge party. There are bands and tons of loud and awesome spectators. There are also lots of officers out in support of the three police officers who were killed in early April. There’s no way I’m slowing down in Bloomfield. Returning to the Strip, Jen flies by me as part of the relay and I try not to get demoralized by all the relay runners who are so much fresher than me. My pace has picked up to the mid-9s and I wonder if a PR is a possibility (I’m unsure because my watch auto paused during my pit stops). I dig deep and hammer out the last miles in 9:19, 9:26 and 8:54 pace. The last 0.1 I see Steph and Jen again as well as Ike. Having friends cheer for you at the end is the best way to end a marathon. I fly through the chute and I feel great even though I think I missed a PR. If nothing else, I just completed my first marathon where I didn’t need to stop to walk. At the family link up area I run into Lisa, a third Girls on the Run Coach, and am thrilled to catch up with her and to hear she came in sub-4.  I hung out with Ike, Shell and Len to cheer in the last runner and it was such a gift to be able to pay the cheering karma forward, especially since I would later find out that the last runner was running for Elora.

Post-Race

It was a great day with lots of support and solid running and the icing on the cake was that I PRed (as did Shell and Ike)! My chip time was 4:28:01, even with two pit stops. It was the most fun I’ve ever had and it was the easiest marathon I’ve ever run. Coming up next: Vermont City marathon on May 24th.

Dear running,

I love you. You keep me healthy and strong. I eat better and am more balanced when I am with you. Together we have traveled the world and I am a better person for knowing you. Over the last few years together you have shown me that I am capable of more than I ever dreamed was possible. But running, there is something I must confess:

This weekend I cheated on you.

"With who?!" you ask frantically.

With biking.

I thought it would be a one-time thing. I really did. I went to the bike store yesterday to buy a hybrid after realizing that "it's like riding a bike" doesn't apply when you're me trying to ride a road bike. The road bike, oh man was she beautiful, was too much for me to handle. The hybrid, while less sexy,  fit me well and I felt comfortable with it. Kind of like spooning.  After riding the hybrid around the block a few times, I became more confident with my riding skills. Maybe I could handle the sexy, agile road bike? I took her for a spin, and while I was a little insecure about whether I could command her beauty and grace, I knew I had to have her. I left the bike store with a sturdy, reliable, comfortable hybrid and a sleek and sexy road bike. What more does a woman need?

My new road bike, but mine is in white. 

Today I thought I'd take my hybrid for a spin to check out the gears, brakes and handling. It was a beautiful day at the park and once I got settled knew that this wasn't just a fling.The guys at the bike store said I'd get hooked, and quickly. While cruising I already started planning my next fix. How could I fit biking into my busy schedule this week? Where could I find a group to ride with? The realization hit me: Oh my god, I can do a triathlon now. 

My gorgeous hybrid. She started it all...

Running, you've been good to me. I still love you and always will. But I hope that you can make room for my new loves. Please understand that I am just a young, confused athlete who wants it all... running, biking, swimming. It's not that you're not good enough, it's just that I want too much.

Don't worry, I'm not leavining you. In fact, I'll see you tomorrow for 20.

Kat

In a very last minute decision I decided to run the Shamrock marathon. I needed to get out of Pittsburgh and Isaac, Michelle and Mike made the stars align. I’ve never run two marathons twelve days apart so I didn’t have any goals. The course was flat and the weather was supposed to be perfect; I just wanted to have fun.

Pre-Race

I split from Shell, Ike and Rob who are running the half. I hang out in the lobby of Craig’s hotel so that he can get some extra sleep and I watch the sun rise over the water while making friends with the runners. I head up to Craig’s room about a half hour before start to see that Mike and Irene have just arrived. Craig offers me a pair of throwaway gloves and a throwaway hat which I am enormously thankful for since the beach start is going to be colder than the Antarctica start.

Craig and I before the start.

Race

The gun went off so quickly my Garmin didn’t have time to find the satellites. It can’t take more than a minute to cross the start and the crowd is thankfully thin. In the first half mile I meet Scott, a Marine from Maryland who I run with for the first 10 miles. In contrast to MCM there are very few spectators and the hotels aren’t very inspiring. Through mile 5 there isn’t anything too interesting until the lead runners start to pass us after their turn-around. I see Mike, a fellow Antarctica runner (he finished fourth overall) and scream and cheer for him like a madwoman.  Shortly after, I see Jerry and Craig and exchange high fives. I’m keeping up a pretty solid 9:45 pace and I keep feeling like I should reign myself in. We turn into Camp Pendelton and there is no way I can reign myself in. The soldiers are out in force, and there were times when I high-fived so many soldiers that it actually slowed me down. They are cheering and chanting and it was my favorite part of the course. There was so much energy it was just incredible.

We head towards the boardwalk and Scott runs ahead as I slow down. It’s only mile 10 and I’m discouraged that my pace is already starting to lag. The loss of my marathon buddy, the absence of spectators and doubt about running 2 marathons in 12 days begins to creep in. Ok, it doesn’t creep, it smacks me in the face. I’m considering pulling out of the race at the half, but at mile 12 I see Mike and Irene and they look so happy that I just can’t quit. I tell myself I’ll run to mile 15 when I can stop to take my inhaler (I’m starting to wheeze a bit) and eat a bit of a granola bar.

At this point the winners are finishing the final miles and it is inspiring to see such athleticism. There are a few more spectators and it is starting to warm up to be a spectacular day. As I walk, I try to eat my granola bar, but can’t stomach it. Every pea-sized nibble is a fight to keep down. I’m a bit demoralized but I cheer for the halfathon walkers, the marathon leaders, thank the volunteers, and encourage the spectators. As we head into Fort Story I am cranky and bored. Around mile 17 I (gasp) begin to listen to my iPod. I am very anti-iPod for races because I feel like it detracts from the experience. However, the way things are going, I’m willing to make a concession. The iPod is incredible in that I start running more than walking and by mile 20 I have a second wind. Around this time I realize that the 4:30 pace group hasn’t yet passed me. In my first marathon, I lost the 4:30 pace group at mile 20 and in my second marathon, the 4:30 pace group passed me at mile 20. I can hear them behind me but have a new goal of holding them off until mile 21. Mission accomplished.

I feel strong. It feels odd to feel so strong. Around mile 23 we rejoin spectators and volunteers. I’m cracking jokes with everyone while my pace drops into times that start with 9 again. I’m having a blast and loving life. Around mile 24 I pass a man who asks if I was the one “rallying the troops back there” I slowed a bit to chat with him, responding “I was trying to, at least!” and he encouraged me to go forward, telling me to “Go kick @ss, girl.” I follow directions well. I keep second-guessing myself. I feel great, but it’s mile 24 of the marathon. Surely this can’t hold up? Let’s try. Mile 25 and 26 have a 9:45 average and as I run down the home stretch I realize I’ve PRed. The icing on the cake is seeing Mike, Irene and Craig and then seeing Ike, Shell and Rob. I scream that I PRed to my friends who have waited for me to finish and race through the chute for a final pace of 9:00. My time was 4:31:07, a PR by over 11 minutes.

Me coming into the finish after shouting to my friends that I had PRed