The temperature reading was negative 12 degrees Farenheit this morning in southern Maine, with nearly two feet of snow encasing the landscape. Not perfect running conditions for sure, but beautiful in its way. The ocean was steely blue and there wasn't much movement in the air. Everything was still.
Yesterday morning was a bit milder and I met a hardy group of runners in Cape Elizabeth to run the Mid-Winter Classic 10-mile course. In my last blog entry I mentioned registering for this race, which is now less than two weeks away. Yesterday was my first run over the course this season! Historically, I train there most of the winter but this winter has been very different - much lower mileage. My husband reminded me tonight, "You're not training for the Boston marathon." I do hope the run on race day is better than yesterday's debacle. Frozen eyelashes combined with sunscreen in my eye, and a frozen balaclava on my forehead like an icepack just resting there for the final four miles. Tough.
One thing I have been doing this winter is getting together with Nor'easter Run on Tuesday evenings for a workout. We run for about 45 minutes then do a light weight-training session at World's Gym in Portland. I love the instant gratification from lifting weights. All of a sudden body parts have muscle definition. It's so cool.
Still working on those resolutions to become better disciplined about going to the gym, running no matter the weather, getting consistently good sleep and nutrition, and thinking good thoughts. I can check off taking a yoga class and snowshoeing when possible, and working full time.
I guess it's a damn good thing I didn't get in to the Boston Marathon this year!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, November 29, 2010
Goals
Well, here I am again, end of November, not running much, trying to get focused and settled on a work/family schedule that enables me to be a competitive athlete. I haven't been able to achieve this in months and months. I need a goal. More importantly, I need a grip.
You see, I became derailed from my training and racing earlier this year. I started a job in March. Yes, that's right, a j.o.b. - "just over broke." I had to - I wanted to. A Running Conversation was just not viable in this economy. Perhaps it could have been if I was a different person, one with a tireless entrepreneurial spirit and laser sharp focus and determination. But I was just me and a very very tired me. I didn't have the energy.
I didn't entirely throw the dream aside. I continued to work with runners to help them accomplish some of their running goals - a 5K, half-marathon, or a marathon. But mostly I had to get to work to make a living. And at this point I'm not sure what will come of ARC, but that's another story.
I want to run. And when I run, I want to run well. This means competitively. I am not ready to say "Oh yea, the 50's. Everything goes to hell after you turn 50. I should just run because I love getting out there and smelling the salt air." I am not willing to go there. I ran a personal best in the marathon this year at 51 and I am not ready to stop competing.
The truth is I had to back off on account of a tugging hamstring and an Achilles tendon inflammation. After the Beach to Beacon 10K in early August, I decided I needed to get serious about my recovery. I had to pull way back and deal with this problem. I've heard horror stories about athletes doing significant damage to tendons and muscles, etc. I wanted to be prudent. And successful.
I did some work with Dr. Jamie Raymond, a chiropractor that is also certified in active release technique, which is a soft tissue treatment. He helped me to get my hips lined up better to minimize the extreme pull that was happening on one side and the Achilles seemed to get better. He suggested I continue to run, but then the inflammation malingered.
Then I raced the Tufts 10K in Boston in October two minutes slower than last year. A serious ouchy.
Late last month, I went to see Deb Merrill, a massage therapist in Brunswick, Maine. Deb is a genius. I have known her for nearly 20 years and have always thought this about her and her work. Deb is a scientist in an artist's body. (She helped me design the logo for A Running Conversation.) As a scientist, she prefers to tell you the problem(s), issue the solution(s) and send you home with homework not to be seen or heard from again. She's that spot on and confident.
Deb is also very practical. Her treatment of choice for my Achilles tendon was an eraser, you know, the soft, flesh colored rectangular kind that you used in grade school. The goal is to soften the lumpiness on the tendon, to break down the scar tissue, to massage it out using cross-fiber, eraser driven massage. The trick is to hold the tendon steady with one hand and with the other, rub the lumpiness up and out! Scrape it out using the eraser.
It can be painful and it's a bit awkward to do on oneself, but this treatment, combined with ice after swelling, and some eccentric stretches she showed me, have me back running! Not much but some. I'm officially on the mend.
This evening I registered for the Mid-Winter Classic 10-Miler in February.
There's nothing like having a goal.
You see, I became derailed from my training and racing earlier this year. I started a job in March. Yes, that's right, a j.o.b. - "just over broke." I had to - I wanted to. A Running Conversation was just not viable in this economy. Perhaps it could have been if I was a different person, one with a tireless entrepreneurial spirit and laser sharp focus and determination. But I was just me and a very very tired me. I didn't have the energy.
I didn't entirely throw the dream aside. I continued to work with runners to help them accomplish some of their running goals - a 5K, half-marathon, or a marathon. But mostly I had to get to work to make a living. And at this point I'm not sure what will come of ARC, but that's another story.
I want to run. And when I run, I want to run well. This means competitively. I am not ready to say "Oh yea, the 50's. Everything goes to hell after you turn 50. I should just run because I love getting out there and smelling the salt air." I am not willing to go there. I ran a personal best in the marathon this year at 51 and I am not ready to stop competing.
The truth is I had to back off on account of a tugging hamstring and an Achilles tendon inflammation. After the Beach to Beacon 10K in early August, I decided I needed to get serious about my recovery. I had to pull way back and deal with this problem. I've heard horror stories about athletes doing significant damage to tendons and muscles, etc. I wanted to be prudent. And successful.
I did some work with Dr. Jamie Raymond, a chiropractor that is also certified in active release technique, which is a soft tissue treatment. He helped me to get my hips lined up better to minimize the extreme pull that was happening on one side and the Achilles seemed to get better. He suggested I continue to run, but then the inflammation malingered.
Then I raced the Tufts 10K in Boston in October two minutes slower than last year. A serious ouchy.
Late last month, I went to see Deb Merrill, a massage therapist in Brunswick, Maine. Deb is a genius. I have known her for nearly 20 years and have always thought this about her and her work. Deb is a scientist in an artist's body. (She helped me design the logo for A Running Conversation.) As a scientist, she prefers to tell you the problem(s), issue the solution(s) and send you home with homework not to be seen or heard from again. She's that spot on and confident.
Deb is also very practical. Her treatment of choice for my Achilles tendon was an eraser, you know, the soft, flesh colored rectangular kind that you used in grade school. The goal is to soften the lumpiness on the tendon, to break down the scar tissue, to massage it out using cross-fiber, eraser driven massage. The trick is to hold the tendon steady with one hand and with the other, rub the lumpiness up and out! Scrape it out using the eraser.
It can be painful and it's a bit awkward to do on oneself, but this treatment, combined with ice after swelling, and some eccentric stretches she showed me, have me back running! Not much but some. I'm officially on the mend.
This evening I registered for the Mid-Winter Classic 10-Miler in February.
There's nothing like having a goal.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Vacationland
I'm intrigued with the notion, more aptly, the practice of "vacation as a state of mind."
I live in Maine and its moniker is "Vacationland." If you've ever been to Maine, or live here, you know why this is true. The Atlantic ocean, beaches, rocky coast, islands, lighthouses, mountains, lakes, art, restaurants, skiing, boating, biking, blueberries, lobsters - I could go on forever about all things pleasurable, delicious, fun, relaxing, and extracurricular!
Maine also features a tough economy and a challenging place to do business. I'm not sure where we land on the poverty index or unemployment stats, and we certainly are not all Rockefellers, Stewarts, Beans or Kings; it takes a lot of hard work and commitment to make a gainful and comfortable living here. But that's true of a lot of things.
Fill in the blank, "_______ takes a lot of hard work and commitment." It's that value that garners excellence and a sense of accomplishment, healthy self-esteem. The blank could be - Training, Competing, Partnering, Mothering, Homemaking, Landscaping, Being a good friend, Creating - whatever it is that is meaningful. And this practice and mindset of hard work and commitment is great, but it can certainly become exhausting. What about leisure, relaxation, harmony, and vacation?!
I realize it is just a thought away.
Living in Maine, particularly this summer, specifically this month of July 2010, has been like living in Vacationland at its finest. And I've been working full-time! But that doesn't mean I've been missing the greatness of a classic Maine summer. There is always a chance to pause, look where I am in any moment, breathe in 'that feeling' of vacation, and simply 'make pretend' I am living it. I am on vacation. Just think vacation.
It completely works for me. I get to thoroughly enjoy the farmers' markets, to shuck fresh corn on the patio, fish in Saco Bay on the weekend, slide in waterfalls over granite rocks in western Maine, and smell the sea when the air is warm and wet. I love this summer in Maine, and maybe someday I'll be a woman of leisure, and enjoy it all for an entire "vacation."
I live in Maine and its moniker is "Vacationland." If you've ever been to Maine, or live here, you know why this is true. The Atlantic ocean, beaches, rocky coast, islands, lighthouses, mountains, lakes, art, restaurants, skiing, boating, biking, blueberries, lobsters - I could go on forever about all things pleasurable, delicious, fun, relaxing, and extracurricular!
Maine also features a tough economy and a challenging place to do business. I'm not sure where we land on the poverty index or unemployment stats, and we certainly are not all Rockefellers, Stewarts, Beans or Kings; it takes a lot of hard work and commitment to make a gainful and comfortable living here. But that's true of a lot of things.
Fill in the blank, "_______ takes a lot of hard work and commitment." It's that value that garners excellence and a sense of accomplishment, healthy self-esteem. The blank could be - Training, Competing, Partnering, Mothering, Homemaking, Landscaping, Being a good friend, Creating - whatever it is that is meaningful. And this practice and mindset of hard work and commitment is great, but it can certainly become exhausting. What about leisure, relaxation, harmony, and vacation?!
I realize it is just a thought away.
Living in Maine, particularly this summer, specifically this month of July 2010, has been like living in Vacationland at its finest. And I've been working full-time! But that doesn't mean I've been missing the greatness of a classic Maine summer. There is always a chance to pause, look where I am in any moment, breathe in 'that feeling' of vacation, and simply 'make pretend' I am living it. I am on vacation. Just think vacation.
It completely works for me. I get to thoroughly enjoy the farmers' markets, to shuck fresh corn on the patio, fish in Saco Bay on the weekend, slide in waterfalls over granite rocks in western Maine, and smell the sea when the air is warm and wet. I love this summer in Maine, and maybe someday I'll be a woman of leisure, and enjoy it all for an entire "vacation."
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Catching Up on the Conversation
There has been an inordinate amount of time lapsed since my last post, and I am not quite sure where to begin. I could always fill in the blanks since my last post about the Boston Marathon, which I ran seven weeks ago.
Wait, really? It's been only seven weeks?! Oh, okay, this sheds some light on the current situation.
The most current situation is that I am recommitted to my family relationships, my need for rest, and my desire to live in a neatly kept home. I want to do good work in my day job, be available and resourceful to all the runners I work with, and feel good about the part-time waitressing job I took to earn extra cash.
This renewed sense of commitment has not been evident until very, very recently. I guess one could say it takes a bottoming-out, of sorts, to heed the wake-up call.
My bottom has been mainly emotional/psychological, save the unkempt house, the poor race results, the dissatisfied family, the missed appointment, and the wretched lines on my face. These are tangible evidence of my being overdrawn, unavailable and lacking in grip.
The emotional proof is the over-riding feeling of being a little bit out of control, as if things are moving just a bit too quickly, and I don't feel rested or replenished. Sometimes I long to be different. This is never a good thing.
I fully understand the cause: Over the course of the past few months, I have started a new job, finished with one training group and have started another, and began a part-time job one night a week. My hard-drive crashed destroying three years of data. I've continued to run and have tried to remain competitive in races: the Sugarloaf 15K, Cabot Trail Relay and today's half-marathon. I have a nine-year old daughter and a devoted husband and have been on the receiving end of the "loveness" in our home. I want to do it all well.
Today, my husband and I ran the Covered Bridges Half-Marathon in Vermont, and are presently sitting back, reading and writing, and finally taking some time out. This is a turning point. I do not want to be a complete maniac simply because I over-do it. I want to know a better sense of balance. My sun sign is Libra; I'm supposedly all about balance. When I get over committed and things move too quickly, I become ineffectual, and this, definitely goes against my grain.
I won't promise to write more frequently. But I can say I'd like to write more frequently. I'd especially like to hear from you - thoughts, feedback, interests, questions. I'm back, and love the running conversation.
Wait, really? It's been only seven weeks?! Oh, okay, this sheds some light on the current situation.
The most current situation is that I am recommitted to my family relationships, my need for rest, and my desire to live in a neatly kept home. I want to do good work in my day job, be available and resourceful to all the runners I work with, and feel good about the part-time waitressing job I took to earn extra cash.
This renewed sense of commitment has not been evident until very, very recently. I guess one could say it takes a bottoming-out, of sorts, to heed the wake-up call.
My bottom has been mainly emotional/psychological, save the unkempt house, the poor race results, the dissatisfied family, the missed appointment, and the wretched lines on my face. These are tangible evidence of my being overdrawn, unavailable and lacking in grip.
The emotional proof is the over-riding feeling of being a little bit out of control, as if things are moving just a bit too quickly, and I don't feel rested or replenished. Sometimes I long to be different. This is never a good thing.
I fully understand the cause: Over the course of the past few months, I have started a new job, finished with one training group and have started another, and began a part-time job one night a week. My hard-drive crashed destroying three years of data. I've continued to run and have tried to remain competitive in races: the Sugarloaf 15K, Cabot Trail Relay and today's half-marathon. I have a nine-year old daughter and a devoted husband and have been on the receiving end of the "loveness" in our home. I want to do it all well.
Today, my husband and I ran the Covered Bridges Half-Marathon in Vermont, and are presently sitting back, reading and writing, and finally taking some time out. This is a turning point. I do not want to be a complete maniac simply because I over-do it. I want to know a better sense of balance. My sun sign is Libra; I'm supposedly all about balance. When I get over committed and things move too quickly, I become ineffectual, and this, definitely goes against my grain.
I won't promise to write more frequently. But I can say I'd like to write more frequently. I'd especially like to hear from you - thoughts, feedback, interests, questions. I'm back, and love the running conversation.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I Did It
It's been nine days since the Boston Marathon and I am just getting to my race report! Actually, I made an entry on the Forum and in one felt swoop, made it disappear without a trace. I was too tired to try again.
The 114th running of the marathon was last Monday the 19th of April, Patriots Day in Maine and Massachusetts. The weather was terrific. We could have used a cloud cover but 'cool and clear' was fine with me. It rained for a couple days leading up to it so I think we were all relieved that it stopped.
All 25,ooo of us.
But the enormity of this race goes beyond its number of runners. There are many races that have more participants. There is something else about Boston that has given it its Grand-daddy status, something separate from the crowd swell lacing its way from west to east through the suburbs of Boston which makes it legendary.
It might be that the course is narrow and downhill at the beginning; that the half-way point is renowned for an introduction made by screaming Wellesley College students lining the street; that there is a nice undulating calm before the right hand turn onto Commonwealth Avenue that marks the beginning of a series of hills, culminating in the infamous Heartbreak Hill; that the Red Sox traditionally play an early game the ends while the race is still in progress and fans spill out to the sidewalks along the course; or that the course seems to narrow again in the last couple miles until opening up on Hereford and Boylston Streets to the finish line. I think it's all of this, and more, that make it difficult to say 'no' to being a part of it.
But I don't get overly sentimental about it. I didn't buy any schwag at the expo - I really didn't enjoy the expo as it was overcrowded and uncomfortable. On race day, I rode the subway to Park Street where I caught a bus to the start. I met up with teammates Alan and Randy for the trip, and when we arrived at the athletes village, we hung out for a little while before the first wave set off. There was a good stiff wind and soggy ground so it wasn't like we were hanging out at a summer concert. In fact, we sat on the pavement, killing time and lacing 'em up.
I have to admit something: When I was waiting for the gun to go off, I was wishing it could be over. Let that be an indication of the kind of time I had for the next few hours...
The first several miles were straightforward, actually quicker than I expected, but on pace so I was okay with that. But between miles 10 and 11 I started to feel tight! I was unhappy about how my quads and calves felt and I knew I was going to have to bear down. Then of course my mind went south and I got cranky. I had to work and wished it was more fun. At one point I thought about my husband meeting me at mile 20, and fantasized that somehow he would make it all okay and magically get me to the finish line. Talk about a Cinderella complex! But that kind of fantasy-world was an excellent distraction for a couple miles!
Another time I forgot abut my discomfort was going by Wellesley College. The young women waved all sorts of signs and screamed as loudly as they could. One sign said, "Kiss me. I'm graduating!" And I laughed. I proceeded to come up with a litany of reasons why someone should kiss me in that moment!
Anyway, the hills were my friends. I actually enjoyed them. My quads needed a break and they are not bad hills compared with what we're used to training on around here. And then I saw Paul. He was happy to see me and seemed chipper, and I was not very friendly. I immediately gave him to carry the two Gu packs I had stuffed in my running shorts pocket, since they had chafed my poor hip bone to tears. And I didn't want to talk much. I didn't particularly care that our kids and friends were at mile 23, but when we went by it was nice to wave and say hi.
And then it happened. At mile 24, I looked at my watch, and saw 2:58. I knew I could make my goal of 3:15 if I really wanted to.
And I did. Official time 3:15:54.
Just don't ask me about next year.
The 114th running of the marathon was last Monday the 19th of April, Patriots Day in Maine and Massachusetts. The weather was terrific. We could have used a cloud cover but 'cool and clear' was fine with me. It rained for a couple days leading up to it so I think we were all relieved that it stopped.
All 25,ooo of us.
But the enormity of this race goes beyond its number of runners. There are many races that have more participants. There is something else about Boston that has given it its Grand-daddy status, something separate from the crowd swell lacing its way from west to east through the suburbs of Boston which makes it legendary.
It might be that the course is narrow and downhill at the beginning; that the half-way point is renowned for an introduction made by screaming Wellesley College students lining the street; that there is a nice undulating calm before the right hand turn onto Commonwealth Avenue that marks the beginning of a series of hills, culminating in the infamous Heartbreak Hill; that the Red Sox traditionally play an early game the ends while the race is still in progress and fans spill out to the sidewalks along the course; or that the course seems to narrow again in the last couple miles until opening up on Hereford and Boylston Streets to the finish line. I think it's all of this, and more, that make it difficult to say 'no' to being a part of it.
But I don't get overly sentimental about it. I didn't buy any schwag at the expo - I really didn't enjoy the expo as it was overcrowded and uncomfortable. On race day, I rode the subway to Park Street where I caught a bus to the start. I met up with teammates Alan and Randy for the trip, and when we arrived at the athletes village, we hung out for a little while before the first wave set off. There was a good stiff wind and soggy ground so it wasn't like we were hanging out at a summer concert. In fact, we sat on the pavement, killing time and lacing 'em up.
I have to admit something: When I was waiting for the gun to go off, I was wishing it could be over. Let that be an indication of the kind of time I had for the next few hours...
The first several miles were straightforward, actually quicker than I expected, but on pace so I was okay with that. But between miles 10 and 11 I started to feel tight! I was unhappy about how my quads and calves felt and I knew I was going to have to bear down. Then of course my mind went south and I got cranky. I had to work and wished it was more fun. At one point I thought about my husband meeting me at mile 20, and fantasized that somehow he would make it all okay and magically get me to the finish line. Talk about a Cinderella complex! But that kind of fantasy-world was an excellent distraction for a couple miles!
Another time I forgot abut my discomfort was going by Wellesley College. The young women waved all sorts of signs and screamed as loudly as they could. One sign said, "Kiss me. I'm graduating!" And I laughed. I proceeded to come up with a litany of reasons why someone should kiss me in that moment!
Anyway, the hills were my friends. I actually enjoyed them. My quads needed a break and they are not bad hills compared with what we're used to training on around here. And then I saw Paul. He was happy to see me and seemed chipper, and I was not very friendly. I immediately gave him to carry the two Gu packs I had stuffed in my running shorts pocket, since they had chafed my poor hip bone to tears. And I didn't want to talk much. I didn't particularly care that our kids and friends were at mile 23, but when we went by it was nice to wave and say hi.
And then it happened. At mile 24, I looked at my watch, and saw 2:58. I knew I could make my goal of 3:15 if I really wanted to.
And I did. Official time 3:15:54.
Just don't ask me about next year.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Trust the Training
Well alright, one week until the Boston Marathon. I feel ready.
Yesterday, and for days before then, I did not feel ready. In fact, I thought I must be crazy to undertake a marathon with a time goal of three hours and fifteen minutes. I might be able to run a 5k or 10K at that pace, or maybe even a half-marathon. But a full marathon? It's nutty.
I followed Hal Higdon's four-month Intermediate I program. I completed two 20-milers successfully, and didn't miss too many of my scheduled runs. I worked the plan and I stayed healthy. I did yoga and fitness classes for many weeks during the four-month period. I ate well and didn't lose or gain weight. So I sould feel ready, right?
The difficult part of my training plan was nailing the pace runs. I did not manage to run good even paces for those runs, which were scheduled on the days before my long slow runs. Either, I went too fast and felt panicked the whole time, or, I went too fast and didn't complete the entire run. That ongoing issue left me with doubt about whether or not I could even things out for the big day and sustain a 'good enough' pace for my time. In addition, I was not sleeping well and generally felt tired all the time. The doubt, aka 'stinkin' thinkin' set in pretty well. Until today.
Today was my last long run and it was a mere eight-miler. I met up with a group I am training for a 5K race next month. They are new or returning runners, with little race experience. Two of my teammates who are also running in Boston joined the group today, as they have one other time and we all had a nice easy run. What brought me to this more self-assured attitude is hearing my friend Alan talk about his taper.
"This taper phase can really mess with your mind," he said. "I feel tired all the time and like crap when I go out for these short runs. I don't know how I'm going to run a marathon."
Phew, I felt such relief to hear this! I am not alone, and, it's only negative thinking: There's no real reason I should not have a fine marathon. Alan, too! I have total confidence in his abilities to run a PR.
The easy run this morning with its inherent camaraderie, followed by good food, a nap, and general laziness all day today leave me feeling rested and hopeful. I just need to remember what I have done over the past eighteen weeks. It's been 'good enough' and it's in the bank.
Yesterday, and for days before then, I did not feel ready. In fact, I thought I must be crazy to undertake a marathon with a time goal of three hours and fifteen minutes. I might be able to run a 5k or 10K at that pace, or maybe even a half-marathon. But a full marathon? It's nutty.
I followed Hal Higdon's four-month Intermediate I program. I completed two 20-milers successfully, and didn't miss too many of my scheduled runs. I worked the plan and I stayed healthy. I did yoga and fitness classes for many weeks during the four-month period. I ate well and didn't lose or gain weight. So I sould feel ready, right?
The difficult part of my training plan was nailing the pace runs. I did not manage to run good even paces for those runs, which were scheduled on the days before my long slow runs. Either, I went too fast and felt panicked the whole time, or, I went too fast and didn't complete the entire run. That ongoing issue left me with doubt about whether or not I could even things out for the big day and sustain a 'good enough' pace for my time. In addition, I was not sleeping well and generally felt tired all the time. The doubt, aka 'stinkin' thinkin' set in pretty well. Until today.
Today was my last long run and it was a mere eight-miler. I met up with a group I am training for a 5K race next month. They are new or returning runners, with little race experience. Two of my teammates who are also running in Boston joined the group today, as they have one other time and we all had a nice easy run. What brought me to this more self-assured attitude is hearing my friend Alan talk about his taper.
"This taper phase can really mess with your mind," he said. "I feel tired all the time and like crap when I go out for these short runs. I don't know how I'm going to run a marathon."
Phew, I felt such relief to hear this! I am not alone, and, it's only negative thinking: There's no real reason I should not have a fine marathon. Alan, too! I have total confidence in his abilities to run a PR.
The easy run this morning with its inherent camaraderie, followed by good food, a nap, and general laziness all day today leave me feeling rested and hopeful. I just need to remember what I have done over the past eighteen weeks. It's been 'good enough' and it's in the bank.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Numbers, Such as Wave One
Hey, still no ice bath but consistent training and running without injury.
I realize that by not blogging I potentially lose any readers I might have thus far! I'm sorry for that, but communicating coherently through writing takes me time, and lately I find myself in an adjustment phase with a new job and ongoing rigorous training, and not much good 'thinking' time....
Today I logged on to the Boston Athletic Association's web site and retrieved my bib number for the big day - number 10,687. I like it. I like that I'm in Wave One, but I also really like the 687 aspect. My husband has a thing about numbers and it has rubbed off on me a bit. For example, at the gas pump, he'll wait until there is an odd or interesting numerical sequence before turning off the pump. Or at road races, he's the guy who insists on getting the perfect bib number. He's quirky that way - and, apparently, it's a bit catching. I notice numbers like 687.
Wave One. I guess this means the gun goes off at 10:00. Me and the elite men. Me and the elite men and 10,650 other runners. And the bummer is I'll never catch the elite women, as they head out at 9:32. Maybe Joanie will wait for me.
Sheri Piers, one of my favorite local runners, has number F26. Isn't that awesome? (I didn't find Joan Samuelson's name so I'm not sure if she is running it or not. Around Thanksgiving time last year she said she might...stealth runner that she is.)
This month I started working with a group of runners and walkers who plan to compete in the Portland Sea Dogs Mother's Day 5K on May 9th. What a great group of people. Most of them are raising funds for the Center for Grieving Children, an incredible organization, and many are beginners in the sport. I love their enthusiasm and willingness to try something new. Last week they experienced many 'firsts': first time running around the Back Cove of Portland, first time running consistently for so long, etc. It's great fun.
It's spring in New England, a.k.a. mud season. Enjoy the onset of warmer days and the promise of a budding landscape.
I realize that by not blogging I potentially lose any readers I might have thus far! I'm sorry for that, but communicating coherently through writing takes me time, and lately I find myself in an adjustment phase with a new job and ongoing rigorous training, and not much good 'thinking' time....
Today I logged on to the Boston Athletic Association's web site and retrieved my bib number for the big day - number 10,687. I like it. I like that I'm in Wave One, but I also really like the 687 aspect. My husband has a thing about numbers and it has rubbed off on me a bit. For example, at the gas pump, he'll wait until there is an odd or interesting numerical sequence before turning off the pump. Or at road races, he's the guy who insists on getting the perfect bib number. He's quirky that way - and, apparently, it's a bit catching. I notice numbers like 687.
Wave One. I guess this means the gun goes off at 10:00. Me and the elite men. Me and the elite men and 10,650 other runners. And the bummer is I'll never catch the elite women, as they head out at 9:32. Maybe Joanie will wait for me.
Sheri Piers, one of my favorite local runners, has number F26. Isn't that awesome? (I didn't find Joan Samuelson's name so I'm not sure if she is running it or not. Around Thanksgiving time last year she said she might...stealth runner that she is.)
This month I started working with a group of runners and walkers who plan to compete in the Portland Sea Dogs Mother's Day 5K on May 9th. What a great group of people. Most of them are raising funds for the Center for Grieving Children, an incredible organization, and many are beginners in the sport. I love their enthusiasm and willingness to try something new. Last week they experienced many 'firsts': first time running around the Back Cove of Portland, first time running consistently for so long, etc. It's great fun.
It's spring in New England, a.k.a. mud season. Enjoy the onset of warmer days and the promise of a budding landscape.
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