After not getting into the 2012 Boston Marathon by a mere 33 seconds (a blessing in disguise in retrospect), I began searching for a marathon that could get me back to Hopkinton in 2013.  With the Fall marathons occurring too late and the Summer marathons simply being to hot, I settled on the Sugarloaf Marathon – a late Spring marathon ranked as one of the 15 fastest marathons in the country.  Perfect!

I began my training a little late, switching from one program (the Pfitzinger 18/55) to another (jumping in on week 5 of the Furman FIRST program).  Training, aside from the last two weeks, was pretty solid, so when I made my way to the starting area with fellow RaceMenu members Jeremy and Tommy, I felt pretty confident that I was going to hit, or at the very least come very close to my BQ.

Team RaceMenu at the Sugarloaf Marathon – Jeremy, Me, Tommy

The three of us were all shooting for sub-3:15, and if there was one thing I learned at Smuttynose a year and a half ago it was that marathons go much better when you have a familiar face running with you.  After snapping a group photo, we made our way to the starting area.  Somebody asked out loud, “I wonder when we’re gonna start?”  Moments later, without warning, the starting gun went off.  We looked at each other – I guess it’s go time!

We had unfortunately not made our way to the front when the gun went off so we had to make our way through the crowd.  We still managed to hit the first mile marker in 7:37.  Our plan was to run the first 8 miles between 7:20 and 7:30 pace, not stress about our pace over the steady uphill climb from mile 8 to 10.5 and then cruise over the last 16 downhill miles to a sub-3:15.  An overall pace of 7:24 per mile would get us in at just under 3:14.  Despite a slow first mile, I wasn’t too worried.  The second mile came and went in an easy 7:22.  I noted that the temperature, though relatively cool at sixty some odd degrees, was still much higher than the online advertised 40° starts.  The scenery was absolutely beautiful – the Western Mountain of Maine, lakes that were so still you could see the reflections of the trees around it as if it were a glass mirror.  The three of us hung together as a loose pod with Tommy leading the way.

Miles 3 and 4 went by in a zippy 7:20 and 7:22 .  This was all within range of our plan.

At around the 5th mile, the rolling hills began to kick in.

I took in a Gu – my plan was to have one every 5 miles.  I started the race with two Gu’s in hand.  The race director had said they would be handing out Gu’s at around mile 9 and at around mile 17.  I would take my Gu at 5, grab one of theirs at 9 and take it at 10, take my last Gu at 15, grab theirs at 17 and take it in at 20.  I wasn’t going to worry about the final 1.2 miles.

As Tommy began to pull away a bit, Jeremy and I felt like we wouldn’t worry too much about our pace going up any hills.  There was still over 20 miles to go, so we didn’t want to kill ourselves simply to keep pace.  There would be plenty of time to make back the time on the final 16 miles.  Mile 5 was a bit slower at 7:35, but we got right back into our range with a 7:29, a 7:23 and a 7:20 over the next three miles.

We were feeling great as we hit the mile 8 marker.  Everything was going according to plan and we had avoided that cardinal marathon sin of going out too fast.

Meanwhile, the temperature was rising.

We looked up to see the “big hill” of the marathon – a steady climb from mile 8 to mile 10.5.  I looked at Jeremy.  “This is it,” I said, “make or break.”  And I truly believed that.  Not having run this race before, I really believed that how we did on the hill would determine how we would finish.  The back 16 was calling to me – just make it over the hill and it’s cake the rest of the way.  All I had to do was to remember to grab a Gu at mile 9.

The sun was rising, so a group of us shifted to the left side of the road to stay in the shade.  We hit the hill with a steady pace, but I refused to attack it.  I wanted to be comfortable and not expend too much energy this early in the race so we ran at what was a comfortable effort.  We manage 8:06, 7:54 and a 3:54 (7:48 pace) over the next 2.5 miles.  Fantastic!!!

As we crested the hill, I looked at Jeremy – this is it.  We. Are. Golden!!!

As we passed the aid station at 10.5, I asked where the Gu’s were.  The volunteers shrugged.  Somehow we had missed the Gu Station – this would be one of my 3 complaints about this particular marathon – if you are going to be handing out Gu’s, you must have your volunteers actively handing them out.  I would find out later that they did in fact have Gu’s around mile 9, but they were on a table in the grass.  That doesn’t work for those of us running for time.

I knew we needed to take it easy over the steep initial half mile, but gravity pulled us along at 7:00 pace and it felt like we were hardly working.  The realization that I would have to take my last Gu at 10 and wait until after 17 to take another weighed on my mind.  Psychologically I let it get to me.

As I looked out at the road ahead of us, I noticed something was missing – shade.

Jeremy started to fall back a little, but he was still within shouting distance.  I forged ahead comfortably, images of me fist-pumping as I crossed the finish line with a BQ-time running through my head.  The next 6 miles were a steady downhill and my pace reflected that – miles 12 through 17 went in 7:06, 7:21, 7:12, 7:16, 7:11 and 7:15.  The plan was working flawlessly.  But there were couple of things I hadn’t accounted for with this plan.  One was the Gu issue, the other was the heat.  As we made our way through Carrabassett Valley, the temperature began to soar right into the upper 70′s.  With no shade to protect us, it felt like we were running in 80-plus degree heat.

Still feeling good somewhere around mile 15 I think.

As I reached the water station after 17, I looked back for Jeremy.  He had dropped back significantly, falling victim to cramping in his calves and thighs – unfortunately, he would have to drop out at mile 25.  I had to push on – I could taste my BQ.  Going through the aid station, I grabbed a Gatorade and a Gu, and I tried to grab a water and another Gu, but the volunteer, for whatever reason, did not let go of the cup or the Gu.

I tried not to get upset, but as I took in what would now be my last Gu 2 1/2 miles after I had planned and with no extra to take at mile 20, doubt started to creep in.  As the heat continued to beat down on me, I could feel fatigue setting in.  I didn’t want to slow down because I knew my BQ was within reach.  I was on target with just over 9 miles to go.

As I passed miles 18 and 19 I looked at my watch – 7:33 and 7:37.  I was slowing down and I knew I was working harder than I had over the previous 6 miles.

That would be the last time I saw a 7-handled split.

Going into mile 20 the wheels simply came off of the bus – I covered the mile in 8:36, nearly a minute slower than the previous mile – it’s cliché isn’t it?  I hit a wall, I knew it, and there was nothing I could do about it.  The combination of the psychological and physiological effect of not taking in a Gu at 15 (as I had trained for) and the heat overwhelmed me.

At that point I knew my BQ was out the window but I still had a shot at a PR.  Up until mile 20 I had been on target to hit sub-3:15.  Now I just needed to hold on to beat 3:19:19 to score a PR. If I could just get back into the mid to high 7′s I’d be okay.

Approaching the next water station my legs overrode my brain and stopped running.  Suddenly I was walking.  I shook my head, half in anger, half in despair.  I sucked down the watered down Gatorade (why the HELL to they water it down???) and poured some water on my head and back.  10 yards out from the water station I was trying to run again.

This would be my pattern for the rest of the race – walking through the water stations, trying my best to run between them.  The next 6 miles would go 8:08, 8:04, 8:34, 8:21, 8:37 and 8:22.  The last four miles were absolute misery.  By the time I hit mile 23 I knew my chances of a PR were out the window and once again, I adjusted my goal – now I simply want to beat my second best time (2011 New York City Marathon – 3:26).  I desperately had to fight to keep my pace under 9.  As I made the final turn for the finish, I was overcome with a sense of resignation.  I would not be running Boston in 2013.  I would not be toeing the line in Hopkinton next April – and to a degree I was at peace.  I knew I only had one more marathon on the calendar this year, and New York City 2012 was not going to be run as a qualifier.

As I crossed the finish line, I hit stop on my watch – it read 3:22:56.

a few feet from the finish line

Officially my time would be 3:23:00 (my last complaint about the marathon was that there was no starting mat – time was based solely on guntime, so if you started in the back of the pack, you lost nearly 30 – 40 seconds.  Tommy actually covered the distance from the starting line to the finish line in 3:15:30, but because we had started in the middle, his official time was 3:16.  I can’t imagine how I would feel if I had missed qualifying for Boston by mere seconds because I didn’t start at the very front).

I would finish 68th of 574 total finishers (I heard that there were over 700 registrants), 60th out of 313 men, and 15th out of 59 men aged 40 – 44. Not bad for a guy who really didn’t get back into regular training until February.

3:23:00 is my second fastest marathon ever, but it was still 8 minutes off my goal of a 3:15 BQ, which brings me to the title of this post.

Dear B.A.A.,

I am wondering if you would be too upset if we pretended that I was two years older than I actually am.  Although my birth certificate indicates that I will be 43 come April 2013, I am willing to tell people that I will be 45 if you are willing to look the other way – I sometimes like to think of myself as an old soul anyway.  If you are willing to believe that I will be 45 next Patriot’s Day, my 3:23:00 will allow me to register during the second week of registration, and I’m pretty sure that as long as there aren’t a whole lot of people asking to do the exact same thing as me, that the time should be good enough to get in as a BQ-2.

Sincerely,
Luau

Whaddaya think?  You think the B.A.A. will go for it?

That’s what I kept saying to myself as I drove up to last 16 miles to Sugarloaf today. The description online of the marathon is 5 flat miles, 3 miles of rolling hills, a 2 mile steady climb and then 16 miles downhill.

The 16 miles downhill, though potentially quad shredding, we’re very appealing to me when I signed up for Sugarloaf. It would hurt, but my heart wouldn’t have to work as hard, which means I might be able to hold off “the wall” just that much longer.

Hmmm, I said to myself as I drove what is essentially those last 16 miles. I was driving away from the finish line and it sure didn’t feel like I was driving uphill. That wouldn’t be bad if the road were flat, but for 10 of those miles (what will be the final 10 miles) it sure felt like I was driving downhill – which of course means, going the other direction, toward the finish, I would be running uphill.

Hmmm.

The river that flows next to the course does flow toward the finish line, so maybe what I perceived as driving downhill was some sort of optical illusion. I really hope so.

It doesn’t help either that the temperature right now is nearly 80°.

Hmmm.

*I apologize for any typos – this post was written from my phone

It’s been on the calendar for months now.  I had been checking off the weeks, putting in my training, focusing on my attempt to return to Boston.

But then a couple of weeks ago I got sidetracked.  It wasn’t for anything bad.  In fact, it was a pretty cool trip to our Nation’s capitol where our family got a private tour of the West Wing of the White House (you can read about the trip over at Jess’ blog).  The side tracking was that the trip came in the middle of the week and require over 18 hours of driving in less than 60 hours.  I was exhausted and my shoulders and back were a wreck.  A massage helped, but for the last two weeks, I’ve been having trouble staying focused.

Just last night I realized that Sugarloaf is not weeks, but only days away – and that scares the crap out of me.  I aches and pains the body goes through at the end of a taper I can deal with – I’ve been there before, many times.  But with only 11 weeks of training, and that training being a new plan, I am unsure at best.  I don’t know how my body or mind is going to react to Sunday’s race.  I know my last couple of 20-milers didn’t go as planned…neither did my last couple of 15-milers.

I am dreading “the wall”.  I know it’s out there, waiting for me.  Over the last couple of 20-milers, it hit me just before 17 – the first without gels, the second time with.  I’m trying to take comfort in the reality that the last 16 miles of Sugarloaf are essentially downhill, but I’m not convinced that will be enough.  Will my quads hold up under 16 miles of pounding?  Will I be able to take advantage of gravity?

The good news is is that I will have my friends with me.  My buddy and teammate JB decided that after running several half-marathons and several ultra-marathons, maybe it was time to run a marathon-marathon.  Although he is much younger than I am, his goal on Sunday is the same as mine – sub-3:15.  In addition to JB, I also found out a couple of nights ago that another RaceMenu teammate, Tommy, will be joining us as well, and his goal is also a sub-3:15.

If there is one thing I have learned over the last couple of years of road racing, it’s that having friends with you is a huge help…as long as you follow “the plan”.  My mistake at Boston 2011 was that I went out with friends (Tommy was one of them) who were running faster than I had trained for.

Not gonna happen this time.

The plan is to average 7:24 – 7:30 over the first 8 miles (the first 5 being flat, the next 3 rolling), do whatever it takes to not kill ourselves over the next 2 miles (uphill) and then slowly pick up speed over the final 16.  Here’s a shot at the elevation chart:

Elevation Profile of the Sugarloaf Marathon

The key to this race I think that stretch from mile 8 to about mile 10 1/2.  I’m not sure what “not kill ourselves” will mean.  Do we slow down to 8:00 miles?  8:30′s? 9:00′s?  I don’t know.  What I do know is that when we reach the crest, we’ll have some time to make up.  Should JB, Tommy and I manage to run 7:30′s over the first 8 miles and fight through the hills with 9′s, that will mean running just a smidge over 7:12′s the rest of the way – even with the downhill, I’m not sure I can do that.  If we can maintain 7:24 pace through 8 and then only drop to 8:00′s on the hills, we only have to run 7:23′s the rest of the way.  Sounds more reasonable, but again, the hills are the X-factor.

We’ll see.

One more little jog tomorrow and then it’s countdown ’til go time.  Who am I kidding, the countdown started 3 months ago…I just forgot.

This weekend?  Really?

If you can close your eyes and see the person you want to be, you can be it.

That was one of my posts the other day on Twitter and Facebook.  It came to me after watching two inspirational videos about two gentlemen who transformed themselves over the course of a year.  I hash-tagged my posts with #starttoday, hoping that somewhere, somehow, someone would be inspired to #starttoday and begin their personal transformation.  At first, my thinking was “if you want to lose weight, go out and run!” but as I sat thinking about the videos with the song “Fix You” running through my head (the soundtrack to both videos), I realized that these videos represented so much more and that the concept of #starttoday was about more than just throwing on some running shoes and going.

#starttoday is about doing something, anything to start yourself on the path of transformation – for some that mean dropping some pounds and gaining cardiovascular health.  Yes, #starttoday can mean throwing on your dusty running shoes and putting in a few miles but, it can also mean getting off of the couch, heading to the kitchen and today, just TODAY choosing to grab an apple instead of a bag of Doritos.  #starttoday can mean taking the stairs instead of the elevator or escalator.  #starttoday can mean taking the dog around the block instead of to just the corner.  #starttoday can simply mean purposely changing your mindset – that this week, this day, this hour, this minute I will choose to live well; I will choose activity over inactivity; I will choose to eat healthful foods instead of junk; I will embrace the light that is life instead of the darkness.

Our bodies were designed, whether by God or by Nature, to move.  Today’s society inadvertently conspires to keep us still, idle – whether it be the TV, the computer, or the smartphone, when we are engaged with these devices we tend to stop moving.

Technology is not a bad thing.  It is a wonderful, beautiful thing that has helped bring the world together and can be used to make life easier.  We should not however mistake ease of life with complacency.  Contentment has its place, it is what we all strive for, but it cannot (and ultimately does not) come at the cost of our health.

In 2010 66% of the population of the United States was overweight, half of which was obese and we spent 2.6 trillion dollars on health care related issues.

That’s $2,600,000,000,000.00.

THAT is a lot of zeroes.  That’s close to $1,000 per person.  Would you rather be spending $1,000 on health care issue that were preventable or on items your family could use or want?  $1,000 per person pumped back into the economy could go a long way toward bringing America’s health back to where it once was – but that recovery starts with you, and your friends, and your neighbors.  I know that it’s not that simple.  Getting healthy is not that simple.  The numbers ($2.6 trillion, ~$1,000 per person) are not that simple. But we must start somewhere; we must start some time.

What better time to start than now?

Make a promise and #starttoday.

And then when you wake up tomorrow morning, do it again.

You can do it.

I dare anybody who loves running NOT to cry at 3:50 of this video.

***

Don’t wait.  Take a walk…play with your kids…jump…run…dance…make love…swim…bike…have a water balloon fight…

…and if you still don’t know how to start, just ask.

#starttoday

It ain't just a river...

Denial is often viewed as a negative word – one that implies that someone is hiding from an apparent truth. We’ve all been there. If you are a special needs parent, you know exactly what I am talking about – that stretch of time when you kept telling youself, no, not my kid…not my child…he/she doesn’t have XYZ!!!

We’ve all been in denial about our jobs or our relationships.

Denial, typically, is not a good thing.

But I’ve found a new way of using denial in a positive way. A while back I started using the Furman FIRST training program for my upcoming marathon (3 weeks away as of the day before yesterday – YIKES!!!) and I have come to the conclusion that denial can be good.

A regular reader of this blog will know that I went through a bit of burnout throughout the second half of 2011.  Sure I ran the Vermont 50 (as in 50 miles) in September and then New York in November, but the truth is, I did both of those runs on almost no training whatsoever – we’re talking a total of 180 miles in the 12 weeks leading up to Vermont (that’s 15 miles per week for a 50 mile race!) and 120 miles in the 12 weeks leading up to New York.  That’s 10 miles per week before a marathon.  No runner can expect to do well at the 26.2 mile distance on 10 miles per week.  Like I said, I was burnt out.

The training programs I had followed required five to six days of running.  I just couldn’t get myself out of bed to do the runs.  I would skip one, thinking there’s no harm in missing a run and before I knew it, the week would have gone by and I would have maybe run once.  Staying in bed, doing laundry, cleaning dishes, preparing dinner – all of these activities were much more appealing than dragging my butt out the door for the required run of the day.

Then I switched to the Furman FIRST program.  The first thing that struck me about the program was that I was only allowed to run 3 days a week.  That’s it.  3 DAYS ONLY.  And like anything that you are told you can’t have, I suddenly wanted to run more.

The program allows for one interval based run, one tempo run and one long run.  I mix in two days of cross training, be it swimming, biking, rowing or ellipting (is that the word?).  Throughout the program (I came in on week 5 of the 16 week program) I have regained my speed and endurance.  My race times have dropped and my legs feel relatively fresh.

So with my last 20-miler done this past Sunday, let the taper begin…sorta.  Funny thing about this program, because you only run three days a week, each run is done with a lot more intensity, particularly the long runs – which are generally run at 10K Race Pace + 60 to 75 seconds per mile.  That’s a good 30 – 45 seconds faster per mile than typical programs.  So that being said, despite officially being on my taper, I still have two interval sessions (one 7 x 800m at 10K – 45 to 50 seconds and one 3 x 1600m at 10K – 35 to 40 seconds), two tempo runs (a 4-miler at 10K pace and an 8-miler at 10K + 30 to 35 second per mile) plus a 15 and 10 miler.

A lot more intense than my past tapers.

Despite the increased intensity, I’m enjoying running again.

And I credit denial for my revival.

Maybe it was her batting eyes via email or just the fact that I plain love my friend TK, but several weeks ago she convinced me that running the Green Mountain Relay in Vermont would be a good idea and a fun adventure.  She had mentioned it in passing last year, but this year she made the hard sell.  I looked at my schedule and said, “why the hell not?” and before I knew it, I was on the team – Slow White and the Eleven Dwarves (she’s Slow White, I’m one of the dwarves – though I’m not sure which one…maybe YOU can come up with my name).

As part of the signing up process, we had to submit our 10K race pace.  I haven’t run a 10K in a while, so I extrapolated off my recent 1/2 marathon and 5K and came up with ~41+ minutes.  Seemed reasonable.  What I didn’t realize was that our esteemed captain would be basing leg assignments for the relay on our 10K submissions.

Now, just to give a little background to those who don’t know exactly what a relay like this entails, here are some details.  The Green Mountain Relay is a 200 mile team race that starts way up in Northern Vermont in Jeffersonville and ends in Southern Vermont in the town of Bennington.  You can find the detailed course description —>HERE<—.  Each team is made up of twelve runners with each runner running three of the thirty-six legs.  Those twelve runners are locked in order, so if you run the first leg, you will also run the thirteenth and twenty-fifth leg.  The team attempts to cover the distance in 24 – 48 hours, running day and night, stopping only to hand off the runner’s baton from one runner to the next.  The rest of the time, the runners are in vans – talking, eating, hopefully catching a few zzz’s.

Here’s a shot of the elevation profile:

Those climbs look a little scary.

Last week, TK sent a team email with the preliminary leg assignments.  Below is the GMR’s description of how difficult each leg is.  I was designated as runner #11.

GREEN MOUNTAIN RELAY 12 x 3 LEG CHART

Each leg’s rating is based only on the elevation gain or loss as the mileage speaks for itself. However, the “Overall Difficulty Ranking” does take into account both the mileage and each leg’s terrain, but not what time of day or night that leg might be run, or whether it is the first, second, or third leg. This is the race director’s opinion – please look at the maps of each leg as the distance and the profile are supplied for you to make your own determination.

The first leg looks to be hard, the last leg (if I still have any strength) should be fine, but that middle leg scares the bajeezus out of me.  Here’s a shot of the elevation profile for leg 23.

Straight. Up.

At over 1300 feet of elevation gain over the course of 6.7 miles, that’s nearly 200 feet of gain per mile…and the climbing doesn’t really start until after mile 2.

When I saw the chart, I had one of those “Wait…what?” moments, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.  Unlike the Vermont 50, which had a total elevation gain of 9000 feet but also had an elevation loss of nearly the same, this leg does not finish where it starts.  I calmed down once it sunk in that it was really only 6.7 miles.

I’m looking forward to this challenge.  I’ve never done a relay before and I look forward to spending time in close quarters with a bunch of runners who are just as nutty as I am.

…and at least I’m not runner #5.

***So, what do you think my name should be?  Leave it in the comments below.

***   ***   ***

I arrive at my designated spot early.   I don’t want to be the guy who promised to run someone in over the last 10 miles and then NOT be there.  I find a spot just after the runners pass Newton-Wellesley Hospital and watch the throng.  It is bitter sweet to say the very least.  I want to be out there with my people – with all of those runners.

All I could think of as I watched everyone go by was, "I wish I was out there!"

But the looks on their faces says it all.  Today is not a race.  Today is a battle for survival.  Some are walking, some are trudging, some are just trying to put one leg in front of the other.  No one is running fast. 

And there is still 10 miles to go.

Just standing there watching them, I am already sweating.  I can only imagine what the heat had been like in Framingham and Natick.

My phone buzzes.  The athlete alert text tells me that Lynda has just passed the half-marathon mark.  She iss moving more slowly than she had hoped – quite honestly, I am happy to see that.  It means that she is running smart and bending to the heat instead of fighting it.

While waiting for Lynda I see several of my friends go by.  Marathon Brian sneaks up on me and give me a big hug.  He is looking strong in this heat.  Moments later I see Ally Spiers, who this year took over for Really Not a Runner Doug Welch’s spot on the Children’s Hospital Team and Team Brenya.  With her is 2-time Cayman Island Marathon winner (and her husband) Steve.  He is keeping her company for the duration.  We do a sweaty group hug before they move on.  A few minutes later I see my friend Mike.  He, like Brian, is running for the Liver Team.  I am surprised to see Yoda (yes, Yoda) attached to his back – I can see him whispering in Mike’s ear throughout the race, “there is no try…there is only do or do not!”.

Mike and Yoda post-race. He carried Yoda the whole way.

I know I’ve got a little while before Lynda arrives, so I run about a quarter-mile with Mike to chat.  He tells me how brutal the heat as been, but he is looking strong.

I make my way back to my spot and start looking for Lynda.  I’ve been eyeing the Dana-Farber singlets the whole time.  I see a pair approaching me.  One of them is waving at me.

——————————————–

Our 2 roads are about to converge…

———————————————

Wellesley seems to stretch out for a loooong time.  I’ve run this part of the course a few times, but the landmarks look different.  My running partner Patty agrees.

There is an ambulance just before Newton-Wellesley Hospital.  The back door is open and there is someone on a stretcher.  I feel good but it seeing this makes me really nervous.  This is my first marathon.  I don’t know what to expect and it is crazy hot.

We are close to meeting Luau, so I scan the sidewalk.  Just past the Woodland T stop is a bright orange shirt.  Getting closer, I wave.   It’s him!

I’m running pretty slow, almost half of his normal race pace, but he is cheerful and tells me about his last Boston, when I ask.  I can’t imagine what it must be like to maintain a 3:15 (or thereabouts) pace for the duration.  I would love to be faster but my goal today is just to finish.

***

Lynda has been running a slow and steady race.  The heat is definitely been taking it’s toll, but she is smiling and happily waving at anyone who either shouts out her name of yells “Go Dana Farber”  My goal at this point is to keep Lynda entertained and distracted from the growing fatigue of being on the course for this long.

It is charity runners like Lynda that I find are the most endearing and moving heroes of any marathon.  Many of them are not typical runners in that they don’t go out there year round and run 30 – 40 miles per week.  In fact some aren’t runners at all.  These are people who, for whatever reason, found inspiration and decided that they could help make the world a better place by doing something that seems almost inconceivable to any non-runner. 

Many of the charity runners like Lynda will run at a much slower pace that those of us so obsessed with qualifying for Boston.  Despite having to spend sometimes twice the amount of time running their long runs, they do it – and they do it with a smile on their face because they do this not just for themselves, but for those that need their help.

In addition to the long training they must endure, they must also commit to raising a certain amount of funds.  Should they not meet the minimum set by their charity, they are responsible for the balance.  Some charities require as much as $5,000 to be raised.  That’s not easy, especially when they must balance that with their training AND the every day demands of their lives.

Lynda was running last Monday, scratch that, Lynda has been running and raising over $6,000 for the last several months in honor of her mother, who passed away from cancer.  In battling the Boston Course on this brutal day, she breathed life into her mother’s memory and deserves to be called a hero.

***

Luau is like the Mayor, saying hi to people he knows along the way, and even picks up a beer from the Race Menu “water” stop. We get to the top of the hill and he helps me figure out how to find my husband in the next few miles.  It makes a funny photo – me holding his beer, Luau running and texting.

Nothing like a little Pabst Blue Ribbon at Mile 20.

Kind of erases any shred that I’m taking this marathon seriously, but hey, whatever works!  I feel relieved to know where husband will be at mile 25.

***   ***  ***

As we approach Heartbreak Hill, I am looking forward to yelling “On On” to the Hash House Harriers.  They traditionally cheer from a spot about halfway up Heartbreak and hand out shots of beer to any takers.  I plan on taking a whole beer.  Unfortunately, on this hot day, it seems that all the runners before us have decided to partake and by the time Lynda and I arrive, they are out.   I am disappointed to say the least.  Fortunately, the RaceMenu team is at the top of Heartbreak giving cold sponge-baths to anyone who wants one.  I see team member Brendan and relay my earlier disappointment.  He smiles, and says they have beer, pours me a cold PBR and send me on my way.  This would be the first of three beers along the way to getting Lynda to the finish line.

At mile 22, Lynda decided she needed to walk.  A very large college student started yelling at her to keep running. 

I looked at him and said, “if you’re going to yell at her and you want her to run…give me your beer!” 

He was taken aback.  “But, it’s a Whale’s Tail.”

“I don’t care, give me your beer!” 

He hesitantly handed me the very full cup. 

It is ice cold. 

I smile. 

I chug. 

I hand him the empty cup. 

I turn to look at Lynda who fortunately has started running.  I turn back to the very large kid.

“Thanks, dude.”  And I’m back at Lynda’s side.

As we make our way through the course, I make sure that Lynda’s water and Gatorade bottles remain full, zipping up ahead to fill them whenever they are close to empty.

***   ***   ***

The last miles are a blur.  There are now four of us running together, Luau, Patty, her husband, and me.  I take a few walk-breaks during which Luau runs ahead, asking what I need.  I gratefully take cups of water and dump them on my head.  I try to drink more Gatorade and hold some ice cubes.  It’s very slow progress, but Luau enthusiastically notices we are passing some walkers and Team Hoyt.  He says, “Chomp, chomp, you’re eating them up!  Only 2 more miles to go!”

***   ***   ***

Lynda’s slow and steady pace is now paying dividends.  She may be exhausted, she may be fatigued, but she is passing people left and right.  Every medic tent we pass is full of people.  I briefly wonder if I would have been one of those people has I got in this year. 

Just after Mile 25, I see Jess’ hair stylist, Marisa of Stilisti (the awesome woman who donated turning my hair blue for New York last year!).  We have found Lynda’s husband now and he is running with us so I feel like I can stop for a second and say hello.  Marisa offers me a beer and I eagerly accept (my third of the day) chugging it down in 2 or 3 gulps.  I give her a sweaty hug and I race back to Lynda.  I’m gonna let Lynda finish this post – Boston 2012 was her race!

***   ***   ***

In Kenmore Square we find my husband and Luau takes a bunch of photos and a video.  He takes more photos throughout the last mile.  In some, I barely look like I’m running, but I am **so happy**.  I have a huge smile on my face.  I don’t really remember the last mile, but these photos are the best.  I cross the finish line with my teammate Patty.

Lynda and her training partner Patty getting ready to cross the finish line.

I did it!  With a big assist from Luau, my family, and teammates, I just ran a marathon!  My legs are so ready for a rest and I’m suddenly starving.  There are quick hugs and Luau slips away to head home.

Almost a week later, I’m still wowed by the complete kindness of a stranger and the powerful common thread that all runners share.  Running Boston was amazing.  And… (don’t tell husband) I’m thinking about training for MCM next year!

21 Week Plan <—HERE is the 21 week plan.  Just click on the blue link to download the printable PDF plan.  No excuses!  You start on today…or tomorrow!!!  Now go sign up —>HERE!!!<—

Below I’ve attached my post from 3 weeks ago regarding the start of Autism Awareness Month.

***

Tomorrow is April 1st.  It is the first day of Autism Awareness Month.

On Monday, World Autism Awareness Day, hundreds of landmarks and millions of homes, including our own, will be lit up blue.

I hope you will consider lighting it up blue with the rest of us.

Tomorrow will also be exactly 24 weeks before the Boston 13.1 Half Marathon.  I wrote about it a while back (I Want You) when Autism Speaks announced that it was teaming up with 13.1 to be the official charity of the Boston race.  Many of you signed up and we already have over 10% of the slots designated for Team Up with Autism Speaks filled.

***

If you are sitting on the couch reading this, thinking, I could never do a half-marathon, I want you to stop to reconsider.

Even if you have never run.

Even if you rarely walk.

This is something you can do.

And by signing up with Team Up with Autism Speaks, you are not only taking on the challenge of completing a half marathon (a tremendous personal feat in and of itself), you are taking a pro-active role in making the world a better, more compassionate place for my Brooke and those like her.

As we get closer to the date of the race, I will make another push for the more hard-core runners to join my cause, but today, the day before Autism Awareness Month starts; today, the day my Brooke turns 9 years old (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROOKE!!!); today, I want to talk to those of you who have been looking for a reason to get off the couch, out from behind the desk, out of the sedentary life-style; especially if you are are the parent of, sibling of, child of, relative of or person with autism – this is a way to get active AND make a difference not only for yourself but for others as well.

***

Some of you may know the story of how I got into running a little over 3 years ago.  To be clear, I really disliked running, especially any distance over a couple of miles.  Over the years I had tried running on, but it never lasted more than a couple of weeks.  Three and a half years ago, Jess announced that she was going to run a half marathon…on the Cape…in the middle of February.

I thought she was nuts – she had never really run before.  I wasn’t going to let her run a half-marathon in the bitter, winter wind of the Cape alone, so I told her I would run with her.  As I began training, I remember thinking this really sucks.  Long story short, a couple of weeks later something just clicked – I had found the joy in running.

Meanwhile, Jess never did manage to get her training going.  I think a part of her problem was that she really had no guidance as to what to do.  I had no idea what I was doing so I was no help either (I didn’t discover the online running community until mid-summer).  She made an initial effort, but with no plan, the grand idea of running a half simply faded away.

***

Fast-Forward to about a month ago.  When Jess heard that Boston 13.1 would be open to walkers who could maintain a 16:00 per mile pace, a dream was reborn.

This time however, she had a few things working in her favor:

• she wasn’t going to be running a half, instead tackling the distance as a walker
• she would be training during the warmer month, so she wouldn’t have to brave the bitter cold
• she knew a somewhat experienced runner to help put together a program for her that would ease her into the distance.

And so she started her program 2 weeks ago.  I put together a 26 week walking program that would slowly build up over 6 months to get her to the starting line with confidence and to the finish line without pain.  I drew upon several established programs for walkers and runners including C25K (Couch to 5K) and a modified Hal Higdon program.  The program can be used to walk or run a half-marathon.

***

I have further modified the program and compressed it to 24 weeks, meaning if you start tomorrow; if you get off the sofa and out of the house tomorrow, you could find yourself walking/jogging/running a half-marathon in September.  As big of a feat as it may seem (and is), it’s not as hard as you may think!

So I would like to encourage you to join me and Jess on September 16th at Suffolk Downs for the Boston 13.1 Half Marathon as part of the Team Up with Autism Speaks Team.  If you are an avid runner, you don’t need the motivation to get out there, but if you’ve been looking for a way to get active and make a difference, this is your chance.

Don’t think about it, because you’ll talk yourself out of it. Just do it. Click —>HERE<— to join the team and then click on the link below to get the 24 Week Walking Training Plan.

YOUR 24 Week Half Marathon Training Plan

You can do this!

AND if you are a Boston local, starting at the end of June, I will be organizing group runs/walks on the weekends leading up to the event along the scenic Boston Marathon course.  It will be a run/walk at your own pace kind of a thing, but we will start and finish together.  I hope you will join us.

4:30AM – I imagine that many are already up, awake after a sleepless night.  They are stumbling about their homes or hotel rooms, checking, double checking, triple checking their gear for the day.  I am asleep.

5:30AM – Somewhat bleary-eyed, but full of excitement, thousands head for the buses at the Boston Commons.  As sleepy as they may be, their bodies are buzzing.  I am asleep.

6:00AM – The buses for the first wave are now leaving, with buses for the second and third wave leaving at 6:30 and 7:00. My alarm finally goes off, only because Jess still has to work today and I need to go down to the kitchen to pack her a breakfast and lunch.

6:00AM -  8:00AM – They will sit on the bus, some sleeping, some chatting a mile a minute, some silently staring off into space, contemplating what lies ahead.  I will make myself a simple breakfast, have some tea and wait for my kids to wake up.  No school for them on Patriot’s Day.

8:00AM – 10:00AM – They wait.  This is one of my favorite parts of the Boston Marathon.  They will nervously wait in the athlete’s village.  If they are running with a charity, they will all sit together, otherwise, they will find friends who they only see once or twice a year – friends who they know through the blogosphere or Facebook or dailymile or Twitter.  It will be comforting because these are people that, despite not knowing each other, they know each other. Some will be relaxed, others will be nervous, most will be a combination of both.  Despite the comfort of the village, all will want to get this race started.  I’ll shower and lay my running gear out…maybe I’ll double check it, maybe I won’t.

10:00AM – The first wave is off.  I say a little prayer for all of the runners as the temperatures look to climb into the high 80′s.  I am not so worried about the elite runners and those that will be near the front of the first wave.  Though they will not necessarily have banner days, they will be finishing just as the temperatures get brutal.  It is the later runners like my charge Lynda, who I will be pacing from mile 16 to the finish line, and my dear friends Mike and Judith and Brian who are experienced marathoners, but starting in the third wave, that I am concerned about.  They are the heroes of Monday who will be subjecting their bodies the tough, hot, extreme elements.  Meanwhile, I will drop one of my kids off for a play date and bring the other with me to run some errands.

10:40AM – The third wave will be under way.  For those all the way in the back (as I was in 2010 – I was literally the last person to start in 2010) it may take as much as 20 minutes to cross the starting line.  Brooke and I will finish up our errands and go home to play a little – maybe a little painting, maybe some reading.

11:30AM – The elites are probably somewhere near Wellesley College at this point – almost half way home.  If they’re smart, they’ll stop for a kiss in the scream tunnel.  Depending on how long it took to get to the start, my friends in wave three are somewhere between 4 and 5 miles in.  Hopefully they are taking their time, soaking in the crowd and not worried about their pace. The babysitter arrives and I begin to check my phone for alerts on my charge Lynda.  She is hoping to run at 11:00 to 12:00 pace.  I check to make sure I have my Charlie Card so I can get back home via the T after I run her to the finish.  I check the interwebs for the T-stop I need to drive to. 

12:15PM - The alerts have been coming in, not just of my friends from wave three, but of my other friends as well.  Maddy, Steve, and many more. At this point, Lynda is anywhere between 5 and 8 mile.  She probably won’t be at mile 16 until 1:40ish, but I don’t want to take any chances. I hop in the car and head to the local T-stop, dressed to run, shuffle, walk – whatever it takes to get Lynda to the finish line. 

1:00PM – Arriving at mile 16, I will make my way through the crowd and cheer on the runners, looking for friends, keeping track of Lynda.

Our 2 roads are about to converge…

5 days until one of the greatest annual road races takes place.  After traveling from all over the world, thousands will take the slow, what feels like forever bus ride from the Boston Commons to the town of Hopkinton, where they will wait – wait for their turn to run one of the greatest marathons on the planet.

I must admit, I have been more than a bit jealous as I’ve watched people post their bib numbers and complain about their tapers on Facebook, Twitter, dailymile and other social media.  There is a part of me that feels like I belong right there with them, but I know that I do not.  Under the modified registration process, I missed getting in by 33 seconds and I chose not to run for a charity – somehow, that doesn’t make the pangs of jealously hurt any less; especially since the new standards mean I will have to PR by 4 minutes and 20 seconds to re-qualify for next year.

The deceptive early downhill, the women of Wellesley College, the brutal hills of Newton, the deafening crowds in Boston – these are but a few of the highlights Monday’s marathoners will experience.  What will I miss the most about Boston this year?  I think it might be the waiting in the Athlete’s Village – seeing my friends Mike and Brian, who are running for the Liver Foundation; hanging out with the amazing Suman, Maddie, Steve S., and Andy O.; finding dailymile and Twitter friends along the way.

I will definitely miss you guys on Monday.

Have fun.  Run strong.

If everything goes the way I hope it does at Sugarloaf, I will see you next April in Hopkinton.

Hopefully on May 2oth, I ‘ll be making this face -

BQing at Smuttynose October 2010

as I hit a sub-3:15, so I can get back to this place

somewhere on the Newton Hills - Boston 2010.

and share the journey with you once again.