Category / Race Reports

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | Golden Gate Relay

181476_10151414110247467_324454237_nI thought it would be appropriate to write this report in my current post-relay (and red-eye flight home) state of exhaustion and mild delirium because that feeling pretty much sums up my experience at the Golden Gate Relay. (So forgive any typos, lack of coherency, etc. – I’m whooped!)

For a bit of context, between our start time of 9:30 a.m. on Saturday through our finish time of 2 p.m. Sunday, I got maybe three hours of “sleep.” But those hours were logged in the back seat of a frigid van at 2 a.m. after a six-mile run with howling wind and the van lights incessantly turning on and off that kept me from falling into a deeper sleep. And I was one of the lucky ones on my team!

But sleeplessness aside, the relay made for one unforgettable weekend.

Before I dive into the nitty gritty details, here’s a quick snapshot of the race itself by the numbers:

12: Members per team (I was on Team Runner’s World/belVita) divided into two vans (I was in Van 1, Runner #6)

191: Total miles between the start in Calistoga in Napa Valley south toward the Santa Cruz finish by the ocean (Here’s a map.)

36: Total number of legs run, with each leg averaging between 3-8 miles (my legs were 4.3, 5.8, and 2.9 miles long)

28 hours, 30 minutes: The time it took our team to finish the course

111: Our place (I think?) out of 178 teams

Countless references to: “Chicken skin,” the magnificence of Twizzlers and Ritz Bits, the band One Direction, the bewilderment caused by the blazing, soul-crushing heat, followed by the freezing cold darkness, then the gail-force winds experienced, the desire to own these gems, roadkill, and the sharing of sweat, which lead to this quote:

To be honest, I was pretty anxious going into this race. After an already exhausting few weeks, heading back to California to log next to no zzzz’s, stay grimy (and stinky) for longer than is socially acceptable, go for hours without a genuine meal, live in a van all weekend, and do it all with a group of strangers was as far out of my Type-A, control/neat-freak comfort zone as Pennsylvania is to California. I’m admittedly awful at trying new things (I’m very content living in my own little bubble), but I am trying to pop it. I just couldn’t pass up this opportunity. 191 miles later, I’m happy to report that even after a rough first day, I became more and more thankful that I decided to participate.

922881_10151414109492467_237126252_nThe race began in stunning Napa Valley vineyards. But all beauty aside, it became clear from the gun that the already blazing temperatures were going to make for some sweat-soaked, unpleasant first legs. I was the last runner in our van, so I got to hear five alarmingly similar stories of how miserable everyone’s runs were. I was less than excited for my first four-mile go-around.

It didn’t disappoint. My legs spent the first two miles trying to figure out what was happening to them after a week completely off to recover from last weekend’s marathon, and my tummy fought me through to the finish. Not to mention the heat. I HATE the heat. Thankfully, my team quickly became a well-oiled machine when it came to mid-leg water (and moral support) stops!

Somehow I was still able to manage just under eight-minute pace before I handed off the bracelet. My van was then rewarded with our first big break and a late lunch from Panera. We weren’t too thrilled to already be so sweaty, but we were hopeful that our next two legs would be cooler.

On our way to the next big exchange with Van #2, my allergies (cue ceaseless sneezes the rest of the weekend) and a dull headache began to set it. Awesome. I popped some meds and tried to hide my discomfort. It wasn’t cool feeling yucky so early in the race, and I was not exactly inspired by my first run. Buhhh….

282263_10151414109942467_1303385300_nBut come the next big exchange Saturday evening, things started taking a turn for the better. A breathtaking sunset brought surprisingly cooler temperatures (thank God) and pitch black darkness. We were all suddenly bundling up – how strange, hadn’t we just been searing on the pavement a few hours earlier?

The roads were now dotted with glowing, blinking runners. At each water stop and exchange, it was entertaining trying to figure out if your runner was approaching. (Our Gear Guy was mistaken for a girl – TWICE! Ha!) I also loved realizing how strange we all must’ve looked running in the middle of the night, decked out in nerdy safety gear and bib numbers. This was clearly unlike a normal race with blocked off roads and spectators. Spotting the highlighter yellow-colored directional signs became even more of a challenge, too, adding a bit more excitement and adventure to it all.

After a rejuvenating cup of warm chicken noodle soup and a handful of Twizzlers, I started to get excited for my next leg of the race. I was eager for a bit of redemption from my crappy first run, and I was looking forward to finally seeing (and running over!) the Golden Gate Bridge. Plus, the tune from my teammates had changed drastically – they were all having amazing second runs.

Come 11:45 p.m., it was my turn to run. From the start, I could already tell how much better I felt compared to my first run. I took off down the road, hesitating at each intersection just in case a directional sign was posted. Those moments when you couldn’t see another runner, van or sign were a little unnerving, but it made it that much more exhilarating. I pounded up the hills toward the bridge, reaching it still feeling awesome. It was absolutely incredible running over the lit up Golden Gate Bridge. I had it all to myself (just two bikers zipped by going the opposite way), and I tried my best to take it all in. I crested the top and flew down the other side toward the exchange. It was way too much fun. My pace reflected that, too. I ran 7:32s for the hilly six-miler.

946914_10151414109937467_131096407_nThis sounds super obvious and cliche, but while I was running over the bridge, I couldn’t help but realize how cool and gratifying it was that our team had carried our bracelet on foot so far already together, slowly but surely making progress through those 191 miles. I’d only known my teammates for a few hours, but the unity I felt with them already, alone on that bridge, was striking.

After handing off the bracelet back to Van #2, we got our second big chunk of time off. I managed a few restless hours of sleep–my travel pillow paid for itself that night–before we pulled ourselves together for the third and final leg. Gail force winds greeted us this time, but the sunrise and now mild temperatures made for more happy miles. Two of my teammates powered up the start of the toughest portion of the course, setting up my three vertical miles to the top. I got no reprieve on the way up, but those crazy hilly training miles again paid off. Whoot! Cheers from my teammates greeted me at the top, then I handed off the bracelet one last time. With that Van #1 was DONE. We were so completely excited when we returned to the van, which was an incredible moment for all of us. =)

While Van #2 brought us home, we downed some ridiculously satisfying pizza and soda and cleaned off three runs-worth of grossness (trust me, my hair alone was terrifying at this point). Best. Feeling. Ever.

We hopped back in the van to go to the finish line on the beach so we could run in as a team. When our final runner arrived, we ran as a group through the finish line. I think we all couldn’t believe just how far we’d run in just two days. Despite the wind sandblasting us, we celebrated by putting our medals on each other. It was pretty memorable.

That night when we all said our goodbyes (we were from all over the country), I couldn’t believe how close we’d grown in such a short time. It all was totally worth it in the end, and I was thankful for having had the opportunity to experience it. Running tends to create close bonds, and this relay only expedited that process. I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to do a relay again! (*ahem* NUUN HOOD TO COAST! Yay!)

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Here are some more shots taken by my teammate Mindy Rickert:

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QUOTE OF THE POST: “Runners just do it – they run for the finish line even if someone else has reached it first.” – Author Unknown

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | Big Sur International Marathon

484561_10200887983740417_1146771719_nTo say the Big Sur International Marathon course is stunning, breathtaking, surreal, awe-inspring, and downright b-e-a-U-tiful is an understatement. Holy freakin’ smokes. I still can’t really believe that I ran on it. For this reason, I included three slideshows (one for pre-race, race, and post-race shots) to try to somehow capture its magnificence. To be honest, the photos only capture a fraction of the route’s grandeur. More on this later – had to put that out there because you can’t really start a Big Sur Marathon recap without saying that this place might just be heaven on earth. Anywho…

Our Big Sur taste-buds were whetted with a drive down Highway 1 in, get this, a red Mini Cooper. We took in the sights, dipped our toes in the Pacific Ocean, flirted with some high school boys chucking Red Vines at us while we were stuck in traffic, and took a pit stop for the world’s most delicious strawberries. Umm…can we stay…like…forever? After a full day of travel on Friday, we arrived in Monterey exhausted, but completely excited for the weekend.

I had very mixed emotions about this race. I desperately needed to escape the endless stream of all things Boston Marathon. (That laughter-filled first road trip on Highway 1 thankfully provided that.) But for that very same reason, this race took on a whole new level of significance. Running Boston to Big Sur wasn’t just a fun physical challenge anymore. For me (and for every runner on that course Sunday morning), it symbolized the beginning of the healing process. It was one of the first steps toward proving that the running community is strong, resilient, and just can’t be stopped.  We might’ve been hundreds of miles away, but you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a Boston Marathon race shirt or jacket. It was a powerful sight to say the least. For many reasons, I knew this race would be unlike any I have ever run.

After expo-ing all day Saturday (where I met a Challenger who’s a fellow El Pasoan! AHH!), the girls and I got dinner on the wharf. We had the most eccentric, hysterical waiter who literally tempted us with strawberry-topped desserts by waving them in front of our faces before serving one to another customer. (Yes, I gave in and ordered some. Nom.) We visited the sea lions on the dock–cue the aargh, aargh, aargh sounds!–before the highlight of the evening: the course tour. Our gear guy Jeff drove Hannah, Beachy and I from the finish to the start and back. And let me put it this way, I spent the whole ride exclaiming, “We get to RUN on this tomorrow! WOW! Look at that!” I was beyond excited to put my bib on and run.

Pre-Race Photos

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On race morning, after getting excited at all of our Runner’s World Challengers in the lobby, we loaded the buses for our hour-long ride to the start. The darkness and eerie fog made this drive unique from my two other pre-marathon bus rides. It only fueled my anticipation for the race.

When we arrived, the runner’s village was buzzing. I’m seriously growing to love this road-racing atmosphere. It truly is a celebration. The girls and I tied our #Run4Boston yellow and blue ribbons in our hair, applied some last-minute Body Glide, snapped some pre-race shots, and made our way to the start.

While we waited for the air horn, the official starter, a representative from the Boston Marathon named Ron Kramer, took the microphone. He spoke about what this race meant for Boston, then began a moment of silence for the victims followed by an uproar of applause for all of the heroes from that day. The crowd then joined together to sing the National Anthem. Another powerful moment. The crowd was ready to run.

The always exhilarating rush of nervous excitement carried me through the first few miles. I’d decided to run this race “naked,” in other words, without a watch, because I didn’t want to be glued to my GPS screen. The goal was to listen to my body, soak in the sights, let my mind wander, and just run. I ran with my colleague Jen for the first four or five miles, taking an easy pace before we reached the coast.

Surprisingly, I felt really good, so I decided to pick up the pace and have a little fun. A convoy of cars, one of which carried my coworkers Bart Yasso, Amby Burfoot, and our brand editor Warren, provided some early words of encouragement. Once we reached the ocean, I was instantly struck by the beauty surrounding me. The sun was out, the air was cool, the ocean a gorgeous shade of blue that perfectly complemented the towering green mountains on my right. It wasn’t long before I yanked my phone out to snap some photos. I held my phone the rest of the way, taking photos while I ran. Here are a few of the highlights:

  • The taiko drummers whose beats echoed through the entire valley before we started our ascent up Hurricane Point at Mile 10. This was like my high school drum line on steroids. Check ’em out (and excuse my awkward moment of bliss at the end):
  • The glorious downhill afterward that carried us toward the famous Bixby Bridge and the equally famous piano man just after the halfway point. He played “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri when I ran by. Imagine running in that epic setting listening to this:
  • Literally feeling those crazy hill-filled training runs pay off. I cruised up every hill and loved every downhill. I had no clue what pace I was going, but it didn’t matter–I was having a blast.
  • The hysterical mile markers along the way (there are a few in the slideshow). Those Californians have a sense of humor, that’s for sure.
  • Running into Beachy and Cait and a few of the Challengers along the way. Out of all of the people in the race, it was awesome seeing familiar faces!
  • The too-yummy-to-be-real strawberry I ate at Mile 24. Again, can I just stay here, please?
  • Seeing Boston Marathon race shirts and bibs on literally every inch of that course. Along the way, one such woman commented on my ribbons. We chatted briefly about Boston, then she perfectly summarized our feelings about running this race after Boston. She said, simply, “This is a happy run.”

Race Photos

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I continued to feel great until, you know, “The Wall” around mile 20 or 21. All the fun I had with the hills came back to bite me. I started cramping in my quads and hips, so I slowed my pace and settled into survival mode for the final miles full of more rolling hills in the Highlands paired with some yucky road camber. I was thankful I didn’t have my watch to see how much I’d slowed down. After what we’ve called “an insult” of a final hill, the course ended with a downhill toward the finish line. The satisfaction of finishing a marathon never ceases to amaze me. It’s addicting. On Sunday, I finished for those who couldn’t in Boston.

I was greeted by Bart, Warren, and the Boston Marathon representative afterward. He asked me if I was able to finish Boston, then congratulated me on my races. I tried to thank him for being there, but I’m pretty sure it was some garbled nonsense. I was spent. Still, after spending much of the race reflecting on all that happened in Boston, it was again, another powerful moment.

I wobbled over to our tent, pulled on some dry clothes, snagged a smoothie, and headed back toward the finish line area to wait for Hannah to finish. Before I knew it, I spotted her cruising toward the line, smiling while she ran. I can’t tell you how awesome it was to witness her finishing her first marathon. It’s such a life-changing moment, and it was incredible to see her months and miles of hard work pay off. Read her full recap here.
Post-Race Photos

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Overall, it was indeed, unlike any other race I’ve ever run, and I fully intend to run the Boston to Big Sur double again next year if I get the chance. Jen described my feelings about this race perfectly when she said running is a passport to adventures you wouldn’t otherwise have. Exactly. I ended up running 3:43:14, just under three minutes slower than what I ran in Boston 13 days earlier. And I loved every second of it.

QUOTE OF THE POST: “And that’s what you’ve taught us, Boston. That’s what you’ve reminded us — to push on. To persevere. To not grow weary. To not get faint. Even when it hurts. Even when our heart aches. We summon the strength that maybe we didn’t even know we had, and we carry on. We finish the race. We finish the race. And we do that because of who we are. And we do that because we know that somewhere around the bend a stranger has a cup of water. Around the bend, somebody is there to boost our spirits. On that toughest mile, just when we think that we’ve hit a wall, someone will be there to cheer us on and pick us up if we fall. We know that.” – President Obama, excerpt from his speech at the Boston service

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | 2013 Boston Marathon

I’ve divided this post into two parts: the first will address yesterday’s tragic events at the finish line of the Boston Marathon; the second will share a few of the happier moments from the weekend because, frankly, I’m weary of reading about the sadness that now surrounds what was meant to be a euphoric, celebratory event. I’ve desperately needed a reason to smile, so, in an attempt at some shred of normalcy, I wrote up a quick race report that will hopefully make you smile, too. So, here we go…    

This was taken early Monday morning on the walk to the buses. I'm just about where the first bomb struck.

This was taken early Monday morning on the walk to the buses. I’m just about where the first bomb struck.

I sat this morning at the airport in Boston in a sort of grief-stricken stupor, trying to wrap my brain around all that’s happened in the past 24 hours. I awoke this morning to the TV replaying that infamous clip taken at the finish line. I begged my Dad to turn it off. I’d seen it on loop all afternoon yesterday while I was holed up in my hotel room just a few blocks away from the explosions, and I simply couldn’t take it anymore. A work friend put it perfectly, “I was gonna call my feeling this morning a ‘bad news hangover’ and realized the better word for it is ‘grief.'” Exactly. I put on my yellow Boston Marathon shirt–runners from around the country are wearing race shirts in support of the victims–and headed to the airport. Outside our hotel were a handful of military personnel clutching assault rifles. When I arrived at the airport, the police debriefed me. It all felt like a horrifically bad dream.

The airport was full of Boston Marathoners, all of whom were hobbling thanks to yesterday’s 26.2-mile effort, a journey that for some was cut short. But I’d venture to guess that they, like me, were trying to hide the aches pervading their legs because that post-race pain now seemed incredibly insignificant when others have lost their lives. Our hearts hurt more.

How fortunate are we that our races played out just so so that we were spared from the disaster? I’d finished maybe 40 minutes before the cannon-fire-like booms rang through the city, and my Dad had been sitting in the grandstands right across from the first bomb for over three hours. My editor Tish was on Boylston just before the second explosion, and my colleague and ’68 Boston Marathon winner Amby Burfoot was just three-quarters of a mile away before he was stopped and instructed to go home. Other friends were just meters away covering the race. (By the grace of God, all of us are safe and accounted for.)

What had been an impatient search for my father turned into a frantic one after the explosions. The crowds around me started piecing together what had happened just a couple of blocks away. I noticed a few people near me were crying. Panic started to set in. I hadn’t brought my phone with me, so I used strangers’ phones to try to contact him again. Thankfully (and miraculously), I spotted him across an intersection, saving both of us from what I’m sure would’ve been very unnerving and scary period of worrying about whether either of us were safe. When I started to process it all during the rush back to the hotel, realizing just how close we had come to the danger, I grabbed my Dad and buried my face in his chest, crying and terrified. How very fortunate we were.

I’ve spent the entire day surrounded by the tragedy. Between the man sitting beside me on the plane reading a newspaper with graphic photos of the scene on the cover to countless conversations with coworkers, my parents, and strangers at the airport, it’s all I can think about. After talking through it all day, here’s where I’m at with it all tonight:

Since this was my first Boston, my coworkers have spent the last few months showering me with stories about the unique magic that surrounds this race. I, like I’m sure every runner on that course, pictured the weekend and the race going off without a hitch, imagining turning onto Boylston, crowds screaming, then crossing the famous finish line triumphant. That this event, one that epitomizes jubilant celebrations of perseverance far deeper than finishing the race itself, is stained forever sickens me. This is not how it was supposed to happen. This is not how it played out in my head for months on end. This is not right.

I think this is why my brain is tricking me into thinking that somehow it’s not a big deal. That it wasn’t an earth-shattering, life-changing event. It’s put up a sort of barrier that’s guarding me from fully taking it all in. But then I see photos from the scene and read about those victims who didn’t make it, and it all hits me again. Realizing that so many of my close friends could’ve easily been one of the victims triggers yet another wave of emotions that I’ve been trying to suppress all day. I just can’t believe that this insane event hit so close to home. Much, much too close.

With that being said, I’m trying to focus on the positive as much as possible. That all of my friends are safe and sound fills me with an enormous amount of relief. My faith in the resiliency of the running community could not be any stronger, and I know we’ll pull through this. Though I worry about how this will affect the sport that touches every aspect of my life, I’m confident that we’ll endure and persevere. Heck, it’s what we do.

So here’s my Race Report of the 2013 Boston Marathon. Rather than a traditional recap, I wanted to share with you a handful of moments that filled my heart with joy:

  • Crying happy tears when I said bye to my Dad before loading the busses. I was so incredibly thankful to have him there to experience it all beside me. Knowing that I’d see him at the finish line made me that much more excited to start the race.IMG_0064
  • Making friends with strangers. I chatted with a Canadian woman on the bus who was running her second Boston and later, in the athlete’s village, a triathlete who was a Boston newbie like me. I also made friends with a woman in the corral who wanted to run the same pace as me, and we ran the first half of the race together. We pulled each other along, and even though I lost her around mile 14, she’s the reason I held my goal pace for as long as I did. If you’re reading this, chica, THANK YOU!
  • Spotting my coworkers Warren, Jeff, and Budd by chance near my corral just before the start. They had run the course backwards, and we hadn’t made any plans to meet each other. Finding them was completely by chance, and their last-minute words of encouragement gave me an extra dose of confidence. 529303_10151848507834838_1346390581_n
  • Witnessing the road packed full of a colorful stream of runners moving together with a common goal was powerful and moving. Mix in the spectators that lined nearly every inch of the course, and the feeling of celebration across states, nations, races, ages, backgrounds, you name it, was palpable. Talk about being a part of something much bigger than yourself.
  • The spontaneous YMCA dance mid-race. More than half the runners did the dance while running, and it was way too much fun.
  • Even though I am so not a baseball fan, I appreciated the couple of spectators with whiteboards displaying the score of the current Red Sox game. That’s dedication right there.
  • Seeing encouraging chalk-written words on the streets for Shalane and Kara. Knowing that they’d covered the same streets that I was on was incredibly cool, and they made me hopeful that the girls had had success further down the road.
  • The odd Dr Pepper craving that plagued me for the last 12 or so miles. (This was quenched later that night.)
  • Passing over each timing mat knowing that I was sending my Dad text messages about my progress. I loved knowing that I was sending him little messages telling him I was getting closer and closer to the finish.
  • The bagpiper near mile 20 that made me think of about whole family.
  • The couple times I heard “Thrift Shop,” which made me think about my brother who discovered that song (and played it for me multiple times) long before it was popular.
  • Making the final right onto Hereford, left onto Boylston. I’d been struggling during the second half of the race, but I was relieved to have a little juice left to actually run the final half mile.
  • Finding my Dad in the grandstands right before crossing the line, waving to him and blowing him a kiss. It’s a moment that I’ll remember and cherish forever. LOVE YOU DAD!
  • Finally, the outpouring of support and love from friends and family. It meant the world to me, and I thank you all so much!

Over the past 24 hours, I’ve read dozens of articles and blogs about the event. Here are a few that struck a chord with me:

So Close, Yet So Far, by Amby Burfoot

Bombing in Boston, by Lauren Fleshman

My Thoughts About Boston: Now What?, by Rebecca Pacheco

Eyewitness to Bravery, Horror, by Peter Sagal

The View From the Finish Line Photo Bridge, by Charlie Butler

Boston Marathon: Undone, by Dimity McDowell

An Old Soul Aches for a Simpler Time, by Kelsey Cannon

Love. Strength. Boston., by Pavement Runner

I also have to give a shout out to my amazing, dedicated coworkers who tirelessly reported their hearts out since all hell broke loose yesterday. Check out their work here.

QUOTE OF THE POST: Via @andrewchaklarge-2

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | 2013 NYC Half

nychalfOn Tuesday, I made the last-minute decision to race Sunday’s NYC Half because heck, I’d be in the city anyway visiting friends, and I figured it would be a perfect pre-Boston training run. Plus, throughout this marathon build-up, my impatience for the big Beantown weekend has made me desperate to put my singlet and a bib on. (Side note: I’m seriously loving the fact that I’m beginning to want to race now. I used to dread race days because of the anxiety they would cause, but now all I want to do is cross every finish line I can get my feet on.)

After getting maybe three hours of sleep on Saturday night–thank you St. Patrick’s day for that brilliant decision!–I pulled myself out of bed, nibbled on a Picky Bar and tried to rehydrate a bit. My friends (who by the way are SO sweet because they got up early to take me to the start) and I hopped on the subway at 6:30 a.m. and arrived at the Central Park starting line just in time for the 7:30 gun. (I literally shed my layers, ran to my corral, hit up a porta-potty, and started the race, all within maybe ten minutes. Definitely NOT my usual pre-race routine, that’s for sure!)

The game plan for this race was to feel out the first few miles and go from there–if I felt good, I’d try to race it; if not, I’d settle in and enjoy the ride. Deep down I wanted to shoot for a PR. My fastest half is my first one I ran in Philadelphia in 2011. It was just after my cross country season ended, and my fitness from that got me a 1:35:01 finish time. I remember running a few sub-7:00 miles, and I wasn’t sure if I was at that level now. Regardless, nabbing a PR was on my radar. Why not go for it if the opportunity presented itself, right?

Sure enough, I actually felt pretty good. Despite having to weave through crowds for the first three miles, I easily hit 7:10ish pace, running through the 5K in 21:59. Central Park was absolutely stunning that early in the morning, which kept me happy and distracted. At this point, I decided to see if I could hold that pace for as long as I could.

ts2Once we finished a full six-mile loop through the park, we turned onto 7th Avenue. And holy wow was it breathtaking. The entire road was closed off for almost a mile, and I got chills taking in the view while I ran in the middle of the street between the towering buildings toward Times Square. For me, Times Square means insane chaos in the form of distracted masses of tourists and speeding taxi cabs. But this morning, the road was ours and the usual blaring NYC soundtrack was replaced with screaming spectators. I even got an unexpected shout-out from a friend on the sidelines! Needless to say, my pace picked up a bit, and I ran the fastest mile of the race.

The course then turned toward the Hudson River for a miles-worth of freezing headwinds before we started miles eight through 13 on the Westside Highway. This was my least favorite part of the course, but I was excited to still be (somewhat comfortably) hitting around 7:10 pace. The PR was becoming more and more of a possibility, so I turned my focus toward maintaining my pace for as long as I could. Around mile nine, I gave myself a recovery mile and eased up a bit because that speedy 7th Avenue mile was coming back to bite me in the a**. Thankfully, the slower mile paid off, and I was able to drop it back down to the low 7s at mile 10. Along the way, I caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty in the distance–how cool?!?–and we ran right beside the new Trade Center, which was a humbling experience to say the least.

When we reached mile 11, I did the math and figured out that I would be right at my PR if I ran 8-minute pace for the final 2.1 miles. I was still miraculously cruising along at 7:10 pace. A PR was definitely within reach. Talk about an awesome feeling.

I pushed the pace a much as I could for the final meters of the race and crossed the line in 1:33:31. I PR’d by exactly a minute and a half.

Post-race with the ever-incredible Kyle who graciously lugged my gear from the start to the finish. Thank you!

Post-race with the ever-incredible Kyle who graciously lugged my gear from the start to the finish. Thank you!

After the race, I spoke with my mom, and she pointed out that I was still able to have a great race despite not doing my usual, super-OCD pre-race routine. She reminded me of how in high school and college I used to get so anxious literally days before a race. I’d waste far too much energy on my nerves, and I’d freak out if I didn’t get in the proper warmup or eat the right thing. But today, all of that went out the window. I went into it with a “just get out, have fun and race if it feels right” attitude.  I ended up snagging my first PR in over a year.

Though I certainly don’t intend to repeat what I did yesterday, it’s nice to know that I can still race well even if some curveball gets thrown my way. Once again, I learned that having the right atitude about a race–especially in the final few days beforehand–plays SUCH a big role in its outcome. (This should be obvious, but as we all know, it’s an incredibly frustrating and hard lesson to learn.) Once the race starts, just focus on running. Go with how you feel at that moment, not how you think you should feel. (So what if I only got three hours of sleep? I actually felt smooth and fast!) Don’t sweat the small hiccups that you’ll inevitably experience because they’ll just weigh you down.

Overall, I’m SO happy I decided to run. The NYC Half is definitely in my top three road races I’ve ever done, and I’d highly recommend running it someday. Yesterday I realized that I’m in as good as, if not better, shape than I was in college. Now I’m even more pumped for Boston! Just 27 more days people! 27 DAYS!

QUOTE OF THE POST: “Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams.” – Paulo Coelho

by megrunnergirl

Race Report(s) | RW Run-Up & Empire State Building Run-Up

Ninety floors and some 1,500+ steps later…what I was thinking this week?!?

Here are my recaps for the two run-ups I, well, ran up this week:

Awkward pre-race photo for the win?

Awkward pre-race photo for the win? (Photo cred to Cait’s awesome sunglasses camera!)

Runner’s World Run-Up

Not to be outdone by the ESBRU, my fellow RW staffers and I held our own run-up at RW HQ. (Yep, all four floors of it!) And boy was it glaringly apparent right off the bat that my stair-climbing technique needs some serious work. (This wasn’t surprising since my steeplechase career proved my overall lack of coordination.) Overwhelmed by the excitement (and hilarity) of the start, I completely forgot to go two steps at a time and take advantage of the railings to pull myself upward. Before I knew it, I was bringing up the rear at the finish of our fake race. Thankfully, I have a 86 floors to nail down that technique and take on the media heat tomorrow. Plus, I’ve got some experience throwing elbows at the start from cross-country! Editors of Vogue, I’m ready for you! Check out the video of our event here.  

Empire State Building Run-Upkelly ripa

Holy wow was this race unlike any other that I’ve ever run. I learned that stairs are so NOT my friend. But I also realized that it’s seriously satisfying to say that you’ve run up that ginormous building, especially when you’re  standing alongside it taking in it’s massiveness. That feeling–plus the stunning (but brief) views of NYC at the top–made the experience totally worth it.

There it is! The lights were orange in honor of the race!

There it is! The lights were orange in honor of the race!

The race itself? It was *cough* intense.

I lined up at the front of the media heat–my toes were literally on the starting line!–and I immediately noticed the padded doorway into the stairwell no more than 10 meters away. Talk about a dead sprint into a narrow door frame! I felt the usual mix of excitement and adrenaline while I waited for the gun, but there was an added layer of anxiety as I eyed that ominous-looking gray stairwell. What was this going to be like?!? I tried to distract myself with the fact that Kelly Ripa and Natalie Morales had just lined up beside me–how cool?!?–and I attempted to look not like an idiot while the press took pre-race photos of us. (See above photo!) New goal? Beat Kelly Ripa.

rw crew

The Rodale crew pre-race!

The sound of a horn unleashed the mad rush to the doorway. I actually had an awesome start and was one of the first into the stairwell. (Yay, my years of cross country paid off!) But, like at the RW Run-Up, the craziness thwarted any effort to establish a steady rhythm. I went from one-stepping to two-stepping to using my arms to pull me upward to power jogging without the railing. It wasn’t coordinated or pretty at all.

By Floor 15ish (yeah, I still had 60+ floors to go), my adrenaline had worn off and my stair running turned into a plodding march of survival. The dusty, dry inside air had me breathing heavily and my quads were screaming already, which had me wondering Hadn’t I just run a marathon? Where did all that endurance go? I swear to God I’m fitter than I feel right now! I settled into a two-step hike, using the railings only to keep me upright because I couldn’t figure out how to use them to pull some of my weight. Stupid lack of coordination. I stared (more like glared) down at the steps to avoid the urge to look up at what floor I was on, much like I used to ignore the lap counters when I ran track. I still had way too many floors to go. It was like you could literally feel the weight of the building on top of you.

Around the 40th floor, Kelly Ripa started bearing down on me, and before I knew it we were sharing each staircase. She had a teammate cheering her on, urging her to keep going, and I tried to pretend he was yelling those encouraging words to me. (It was incredibly quiet and lonely throughout the entire race, so there was not much to distract me from my blaring omg-please-let’s-stop-how-many-more-floors?-this-is-insane-consumed thoughts.)

I held off Kelly for maybe 20 floors, but she was rocking this powerful and steady pace. My pace certainly hadn’t picked up any by this point, and she finally passed me somewhere in the 60s. I concluded that she is basically the Energizer Bunny. You go girl!

photo 4

Done and done. Heck yes!

When we were within a few floors of the finish, I started to feel hints of cool air circulating down the stairwell. Sooooo close! I tried to trot up the last few steps–I wanted to go out with some shred of dignity!–and finally reached the open and wonderfully flat landing at the top. I was rewarded with a blast of cold, fresh air and an awe-inspiring view of the city. I staggered through the finish, totally relieved and happy that that wild ordeal was over.

I bumped into Kelly again after the race, and I mumbled something along the lines of, “Awesome job! That was crazy right?” and she told me she agreed. We high-fived each other (I’m sure my mum is totally jealous of me right now! haha) before I was herded into the elevator.

I ran it in 18:29 and was the 5th female in the media division. One news story described it as a “vertical marathon,” which is entirely accurate. I learned that going up is a much different experience that going forward, and that my runner’s strength didn’t exactly apply to 1,576 steps. Overall, I’m SO glad that I got the opportunity to run it, but I think I’ll stick to my marathons for now and leave that craziness for the pros like our Gear Guy Jeff Dengate (who, by the way, won the media heat!)

photo 1

The bling!

photo 2

QUOTE OF THE POST: “It’s not a stair race, it’s a race to the top.” – Jeff Dengate 

Read my other Race Reports here. 

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | Lehigh Covert Classic Indoor Mile

Reunited! The itch satisfied at last.

Reunited! The itch satisfied at last.

Here’s a quick race recap for my quick, debut track race as a Lehigh alum – the mile!

Once I arrived, I won’t lie when I say it felt surreal going through the pre-race routine again – I warmed up through campus with a teammate, hit the bathroom, cheered on the 5-K girls, hit the bathroom again, stretched out, picked up my hip numbers, stretched some more, went on one final bathroom trip, laced up the spikes, shed my layers, slapped on the numbers, and hopped on the track for some striders. I even did my high-knee/butt-kick drills that I’ve done before every race since middle school because, heck, I’m a little superstitious! Even though it’s been a few months since the last time I did this, it felt so familiar. And it felt incredible.

If I had any real goals going into this race, they were:

A) To break 6 minutes.

B) To not get last.

C) And above all, have fun and enjoy the opportunity to be back out there again!

When the starter lined us up on the track, I reveled in the surge of adrenaline and the dead silence that buzzed with that pent-up energy once the gun was up. Then with a bang, we were off! We sped around the track, jostling for position. I settled in the back, but within meters I found myself surging past a few girls. (Yes! The competitor within me was finally bubbling to the surface again! Booyaa!) I tried to keep my pace as I clicked off lap after lap, soaking in and loving every moment of it. My teammates’ cheers carried me through the rest of the race, and before I knew it, I crossed the finish line. What…a…RUSH!

Now, it was by no means fast – I ran 5:45, which is about 30 seconds slower than what I could do in college (not to mention I’m in marathon training, not MILE training! Ha!) – but I’m SO glad I ran anyway. Today made me truly appreciate and be thankful for my experiences at Lehigh. They made me the runner I am today, and this race forged a connection between the old me and the new me. It certainly was a step toward figuring out how I want to approach my running in the future!

Plus, I think it rekindled a bit of that competitive flame! I’ll admit I was eyeing another open runner in the 3-K, and I desperately wanted to race her!

P.S. I might just start a yearly streak with this race. Don’t want those spikes to gather too much dust in my closet, right? =)

QUOTE OF THE POST: “The mile has all the elements of drama.” – Sir Roger Bannister

Read my other Race Reports here. 

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | Walt Disney World Goofy Challenge

goofyback

The back of my Goofy Challenge medal.

1 Marathon

1 Half-Marathon

2 Days, 4 Theme Parks

39.3 Miles

Can’t really believe that I completed that this past weekend at the Walt Disney World Marathon Weekend as a Goofy Challenger. What that medal doesn’t include is: two back-to-back 2:15 a.m. wake-up calls, three days of standing at the Runner’s World Challenge booth checking in runners, a late night of bowling with RW coworkers (bowling + runners’ glaring lack of coordination = many, many hysterical gutter balls!), and one epic afternoon appeasing my inner eight-year-old riding Space Mountain and Pirates of the Caribbean at the Magic Kingdom. Busy, busy, busy!

desi

The RW ladies and Desi Davila. See, I told you she’s so small! I’m a giant compared to her! Ha!

We also stayed at the Yacht Club Resort a.k.a. runner nerd heaven. The place was literally jam-packed with running elites and legends. While I was checking in, 2012 U.S. Olympic marathoner Desi Davila was waiting behind me (!) and yes, I had a small heart attack. What’s new? I saw her again the next day leaving an elevator, and I completely geeked-out at her with word-vomiting excitement. You’d think that I’d be better at handling these brushes with fame, but man, I’m pretty sure I scared her a little. Ooops, sorry Desi! (Thankfully, I ran into her again later that day, and I got the chance to redeem myself and prove that I’m not actually a crazy person.) I have to say, she’s an absolutely awesome (and tiny!) person, and it was incredible getting to hear about her comeback post-Olympic injury. She’s going to dominate once she’s healthy again, I’m sure of it! (Side note: I’ve now officially met the U.S. Olympic Marathon team trio: Desi Davila, Shalane Flanagan, and Kara Goucher. Ahh! I can tell you that they are all such amazing and inspiring women, and I’m so grateful for the opportunities to get to meet them!) I also ran into and spoke with Bill Rodgers for a bit, and I spotted Frank Shorter, too. All in all, it was pretty surreal sharing a roof with these people.

Now, on to the races:

Above all else, the goal for the weekend was have fun and embrace the experience. I wanted to earn all three medals, and it didn’t matter how fast I did it. If I had to give you a time goal, it would be to break two hours in the half and four hours in the full, but that was by no means a serious goal. I’m just a very Type A kind of person, and deep down, I have no ability to just run. I need to work on that – not every race needs to be run for time! Anywho…

The Half-Marathon:

[Pump-up song of the day: “I’ll Make A Man Out Of You” from Mulan]

pre-race

The guys wore those hats for the ENTIRE half-marathon.

Despite absolutely dreading waking up at the butt-crack of earliness, thank God I’m the type of person where once I’m up, I’m up. Cait and I (she was doing the Goofy, too) snapped a pre-Goofy photo (left – with coworkers Robert and Jeff), and then we and the other RW Challengers loaded the bus to the start at 3 a.m. I was quickly designated the group’s cheerleader. I blasted Disney songs (and sang along with them!), while I attempted to make my energy infectious and pump everyone up for the race. Heck, we were at Disney World about to run an incredible race, how could you not be ridiculously stoked!?!

Prerace

Cait, Hannah and I trying to look tough before the half-marathon. This was at 4 a.m.

Once we got to the corral, I was flat out giddy with excitement. We got to start within feet of the actual line, and we were spitting distance away from NSYNC’s Joey Fatone and Drew Carey! How cool is that?!? Had I told my 12-year-old self that I’d be this close to a member of NSYNC, I wouldn’t have believed it! Then Mickey Mouse gave us the countdown, a burst of fireworks lit up the sky, and we were off! I ran most of the race with my coworkers Cait and Hannah (who ran a HUGE PR!). (right) Cait and I decided to take it easy and conserve our energy for Sunday’s marathon, running around 8:30 – 8:50 pace the whole way. We made our way toward the Magic Kingdom, passing by loads of costumed characters (my favorite was the Pirates of the Caribbean ship that played music from the movie). Then we turned onto Main Street, and holy wow was it awe-inspiring. The road was packed with screaming spectators as we ran up to Cinderella’s stunning castle. That moment alone made the lonely highways to and from the castle worth it. Hands down. We pushed it to the finish (after nearly running over a crossing armadillo – seriously!), and just like that, we were a third of the way done with the Goofy Challenge. We ran it in 1:54:13. To quote The Big Bang Theory – Bazinga!

The only glitch in the road was that my achilles and heels were totally feeling the last three days of standing. I iced them that afternoon to get ’em ready for day two!

The Marathon:

[Pump-up song of the day: “I Just Can’t Wait To Be King” from The Lion King]

I’ll be honest here – when my alarm went off at 2:15 a.m. again on Sunday morning, the immediate realization that I had to run a marathon (a whole 26.2 miles!) in a couple hours was horrifying. What the heck was I thinking getting myself into this? I turned up the Disney music to shake that feeling away because I’d promised my RW Challengers that I’d be as upbeat and happy on Sunday as I was on Saturday. Oh I just can’t waaaaait….to be kinggggg!

Then come race time, talk about déjà vu. The first eight-ish miles of the race were exactly the same as the half-marathon course, and it was somewhat eery covering the same ground at the same time two mornings in a row. Again, the Magic Kingdom’s stunning views took my breath away, and then… it all came crumbling down…

Around mile 10 (yeah, just 10! 16.2 miles left!), everything below my knees began to ache. My shins, my ankles, my achilles, the bottom of my feet, everything. SO not fun. (My coworkers and I later agreed that this pain might have been caused by the course’s pancake-flatness and subsequently repetitive stride pattern.) It was pretty unsettling to feel that yucky that early in the race, and I wondered, How did I feel so good for the first 18 miles of Steamtown? This was already shaping up to be a very different experience from my first marathon.

As I made my way through the course (it was mostly on highways, punctuated by jaunts through the Magic Kingdom, the Animal Kingdom, the ESPN Wide World of Sports Complex, Hollywood Studios, and Epcot, all of which were pretty neat to run through), my thoughts shifted toward tweaking my stride to make my legs hurt as little as possible. I also tried so hard to just keep running because I really didn’t want to walk. Let’s just say those middle miles were consumed with thoughts like Why the heck am I doing this? This sucks. Please get me to the next park so I can distract myself. Stop hurting legs! Think positively. There is still soooo much left to go. Can I be done, please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top? Don’t walk, just keep running. Ouch, ouch, ouch. Hey look, there’s Buzz Lightyear! Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Once I reached the Wide World of Sports Complex, I decided I’d walk the water stops from then on. Looking back, I think this was the best decision I could have made, and it was definitely a turning point in my race – not only did it give my legs a break, but the idea of rewarding myself with a walk break and water kept me motivated and moving between stations. I learned that walking is definitely NOT a bad thing in marathons.

finishline

Could not have been happier to finish!

I realized – to my utter relief – that the end was near when I got to Hollywood Studios around mile 23. The crowd support was through the roof, and even though I was still in an epic amount of pain, I started to sense a bit of that “marathon magic.” Pretty fitting that I truly felt that at “the most magical place on Earth,” right? I was overcome with joy at the realization that I and everyone around me were going to finish this thing. I’d compare this feeling to the “runner’s high” – it’s elusive, but it’ll show up just when you need it to! Ahhh it was totally awesome. With renewed energy, I shifted gears and tried to finish as strong as I could. I crossed the line in 3:55:28, and then Bart Yasso snapped this photo of me (right). Despite having a mostly awful race, I don’t think I could’ve been more genuinely happy.

Now that it’s over, I wouldn’t consider this race a bad race at all. First and foremost, I learned to respect the distance. Marathons are not easy. Period. I needed to experience this, and was glad I did. I also learned that you can feel that “marathon magic” even in crappy races, that pace and finishing times are not always the most important thing, and that finishing alone is a huge accomplishment. Lessons (thankfully) learned. Side note #2: How cool is this bling?!? (I spent the rest of the day with these clanging around my neck!)

medals

The bling – well worth the 39.3-mile effort.

kilt

Now that’s MY kind of racing skirt!

Post-race, I got to celebrate with some of the most incredible runners ever: the Runner’s World Challengers! I mingled with the @TwinsRun twins, Malinda and Leah, who are so passionate about running and Disney it’s contagious. They even raced both days in super-cute costumes! Their outfits rivaled one Challenger’s kilt! (left) I also witnessed a mother and her daughter complete their first marathon together, which was beyond neat as well.

Robert

This guy was responsible for many happy tears from me after the race!

But what managed to bring me to tears was Robert’s race. Robert (right) battled throat cancer last year and came back to break four hours and QUALIFY FOR BOSTON! He was visibly euphoric, and I can tell you that that moment will stick with me forever. We had waited together in the corral before the race, and I can say that words really don’t do justice to describe how kind and wonderful and inspiring this man is. He told us how after treatments last year, he literally started from square one (think only being able to run the length of one side of a block), and then worked his way toward this goal of a Boston qualification. Stories like his remind me of why running is just plain awesome.

Overall, the weekend was an exhausting but exhilarating experience, and I’m pumped to say that marathon numero dos is in the books! Now, time for some rest and then let the Boston training commence!

bib

My bib with our staff trip hashtag #RWGoofTroop. Awesome.

QUOTE OF THE POST: “There are times when you run a marathon and you wonder, Why am I doing this? But you take a drink of water, and around the next bend, you get your wind back, remember the finish line, and keep going.” – Steve Jobs

Disney runners: What was your favorite part of the race?

Read my other Race Reports here. 

by megrunnergirl

An Interview With Julie Culley Post-NYC Marathon Cancellation

0033025d-b4d1-48f5-ac71-2ac8d1e99e7e.LargeAfter witnessing first-hand the events throughout the would-be New York City Marathon weekend, I can tell you that nearly everyone in the running community couldn’t quite articulate how they felt about the news. From what I gleaned via interviews RW did with participants and social media, the general sentiment was this: although it was the right decision, it was made too late. I still volley back and forth about how I feel–I’ll read an article that’ll sway me one direction, then read another that swings me back–so it’s not worth delving into that mess here. But, in the days following November 4, the RW staff scrambled to summarize and draw meaning from the cancellation, putting together what I think is an incredible, comprehensive look at what went down. Though it offers various opinions, I agree with it all. (The package is in the January 2013 issue–I’ll link to it once it’s online). Though it didn’t make the cut for print, I did an interview with Julie Culley, an Olympian who was set to make her marathon debut in New York. She’s also happens to be a New Jerseyan through-and-through and was directly affected by Hurricane Sandy. Julie offered a truly unique, heartfelt, and eloquent perspective that I think is worth sharing. Below is our conversation detailing her thoughts about the NYC Marathon cancellation:

Me: Now that it’s been over for a few days and you’ve had some time to let it sink it, where are you at emotionally today?

Julie Culley: I’m disappointed. I feel sad about not having run the marathon this weekend, and I’ve personally chosen not to run another marathon because of the emotional highs and lows that I’ve experienced this past week. I took a day or two off and suddenly came crashing down and got sick. I guess that’s a true sign of your emotional and physical state. I understand the pressure that was put on by the city and the pain that the city was feeling. I’m disappointed that the runners and NYRR became vilified because I truly and honestly believe that they have their best intentions at heart–in particular with the amount of money that was being raised for charity both for the relief efforts and for people who raise funds for other charities to gain access to run the race. And on top of that, the amount of expenses paid by 40,000 people to get them to the race–it’s really a shame. I think honestly if this marathon had been called off when the storm hit, it would be a lot less difficult for everyone. You know, natural disasters are not something you can prevent, and I’m sad that people are suffering the way they are suffering. I don’t think we should take anything away from their hardship.

Me: As an elite runner who prepared to run your first marathon, I can only imagine how you felt when you heard the news. How did you handle it all after Friday’s announcement?

JC: The day that it hit me the most was on Monday morning when we were leaving the city. The most frustrating part–and to me this is not a selfish thing–was the way that I saw the city continue on. As an elite runner and just seeing all the full time jobs, we were going to work on Sunday. I know that we were attacked even further for saying things like that because of the hardship that people are facing right now. Come Monday morning, that city was hustling and bustling and people were off to work. As soon as the power was back on, everyone went back to work. The frustrating part is that knowing people are hurting, people have passed away, and dealing with that emotion in and of itself. And also feeling somewhat betrayed because the marathon does so many good things for so many people. And me personally, I’ve been active in some of the charities and programs that they offer to the city of New York, so I know what the NYRR represents as well as what the elite runners were there to do. It’s a big financial hit, and I understand that everyone needs to play their part. It was definitely hard Monday morning seeing the city back to work, business as usual, long lines for the retail shops, long lines for the coffee shops, and thinking, that was what we were supposed to do. I struggle with that because my family’s shore house needs to be completed gutted. Obviously we are very lucky to have a second residence. We are not put out, our primary house is fine, but you know, it is difficult on a lot of levels.

I think that it is very unfortunate overall, and I think that the resiliency of the running community is inspiring because a lot of people put that time on Sunday to good use. I as well as many others were out there volunteering on Sunday, even after some of the harsh criticisms that came. The running community is a strong one, and I’m proud of the way people handled it. I think that’s a really important aspect of it all. It was a sad experience, and my heart breaks for the New York Road Runners because somehow this has turned into a big business move. That’s not it at all. If you see the differences that these guys make in the community and outside of it, too, it’s really inspiring. So it was hurtful to see them take so much from this.

It’s tough, you know, Monday I came home and after being so angry leaving the city, and then my parents came home after the first day they were allowed to go back on the island to see the devastation. It puts everything in perspective, of course, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.

Me: Out of the entire situation, what was the most striking or poignant moment for you from the weekend?

JC: The hostility had gotten to a point–whether it was real or just a bunch of talk–where I was with a fellow runner on Friday afternoon going for a jog, and the both of us expressed our concern for what was it going to be like out there on Sunday morning, especially with the women’s elite start being the first runners to come through the city. What is the tone of the city right now? Is it safe for everyone to be out there? That was starting to become a legitimate concern obviously for us, but for the organization, too. Honestly I think the New York Post article is what changed the entire tone. It went from, “Okay we’re going to do this, we’re going to put all of our efforts toward lifting the city and raising money for the relief efforts through the run,” to, “How dare you march through our city’s streets and parade around like nothing’s happened?” I think Friday morning when that article was published was when things really started to go downhill.

Ultimately, I think they did what they needed to do. I think if it was going to become such a divisive event toward the city, I think that this is what they needed to do. It’s still kind of like, was this the opinion of the majority or the minority–like a really small group that was making a stink–it’s really hard to know. Of course we weren’t there with Bloomberg trying to decide, but I think politics played a big part of this, and it’s sad that it happened to the marathon. Everyone had a criticism about it. I mean you turn on national television and people are chiming in about what the runners should do. And you know what? No one has ever paid attention to this before, so please don’t act like you know what to do going forward. You can’t postpone the NYC Marathon for two weeks. It’s kind of like asking the Super Bowl to be post-poned and having only 50% of the players show up. It’s crazy.

Me: What drove me nuts was that the Giants and the Knicks got to play.

JC: Yeah, when that happened, to me of course they passed the buck off elsewhere. You know, New York teams are New York until they don’t want to deal with them because they’re in New Jersey. I just felt that if it’s something that brings people together that’s positive for the community, then I wouldn’t be against the Giants game being played. I was against the fact that we were the ones that were singled out. At this point in time, it’s better for people to have something positive to focus on because it helps them keep moving forward, and it helps the recovery effort. It really, truly does. But if you take away all those things, there’s no inspiration or positivity. You’d be amazed at how much sport unites people and gives them hope.

Me: I think that was pretty apparent with what happened on Sunday between the runners who volunteered on Staten Island and who ran in Central Park. I mean, you talk about inspiration and unity, and what happened on Sunday was what it could’ve been like had the race gone on.

photophoto[1]JC: Exactly. It’s funny, you know my boyfriend and I decided we were going to go down to the East Village, and we found out about a community center that we could bring a bunch of stuff down to. We gathered some clothes and stuff from Asics, like a whole bunch of brand new stuff from the expo. We filled up a big duffle bag of it and brought it downtown. We thought if there is anything we can do to volunteer. I’m not trying to be a hero by any means, but he said to me, because I was dressed in all my marathon gear from Asics, and I said, “I should probably change, huh?” He just looked at me and said, “I’m not going to change. Why would we change? We’re proud of who we represent right now. We’re proud of this organization. If they want to yell at us, that’s fine, but we’re here trying to help out. The runners that ran in Staten Island in all their marathon gear, it’s like, we’re not a bunch of selfish people. We’re actually really here to help. I think that on some level, if there was enough time for the New York Road Runner’s to really create some sort of rallying effort, I think there would’ve been a different feeling about it. I think that it was a reaction to the negativity, and it was almost too late.

Me: So last question, what have you been up to all week?

JC: Monday when I came home, I wanted to take care of my parents who had just come home from smashing hammers into the walls the entire day by making them a big dinner. Unfortunately my intention was to try to find volunteer work as soon as I could this week, but I got sick. So my best friend from home and I started working on food donations that we’re going to deliver on Friday.

Photo credits: Elizabeth Maiuolo and Julie Culley

QUOTE OF THE POST: “Tough times don’t last, but tough people do.” – A.C. Green

by megrunnergirl

My Weekend With Shalane Flanagan

Back in August early on a Sunday morning, I pulled myself out of bed not to log my marathon training miles, but to watch the women’s Olympic marathon. With my caramel macchiato-infused coffee in hand, I watched my American idols, Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher, cruising up in front of the pack, clipping off mile splits faster than I can clock a single one. After seeing Bernard Lagat race in person back in college–and then taking to the track to plod through my own 3-K–I can say pros really do make it look, well, pretty darn effortless. These women, even as they navigated the cobblestone streets in London, ran with the same grace, agility, and seemingly superhuman strength. Like I always do when I watch elite races, I sat dumbfounded.

Having been a competitive runner most of my life, I’d like to think I have a reasonable understanding of what it takes to run fast–I’ve completed my fair share of mile repeats and tempo runs. But because I can barely begin to fathom the level of commitment and sacrifice it must take to reach their impossibly speedy level, women like Shalane and Kara simply amaze me. Period. How the heck do they run so fast? Over the past few years after having watched them compete and read (and reread) their stories in Runner’s World, they have become my idols. Or, as I like to explain it to my running-illiterate parents, I revert back to my 12-year-old, soccer-playing self, saying, “They’re like the Mia Hamm and Brandi Chastain of running! Get it?”

Now you can only imagine how I felt while I waited to pick up Shalane from the airport before the Runner’s World Half & Festival a couple months later in October. (She was our one of our special guests for the weekend, and I’d been assigned to be her assistant for the weekend. Seriously. Talk about work perks.) The level of nerves in my belly rivaled pre-race jitters. Believe me when I say I spent the previous month composing myself for this moment–I really didn’t want to freak the poor woman out with my hyper excitement over meeting her, a three-time Olympian and American record holder. No biggie, right? Like she always does, my mum brought me back down to earth with a text saying, “Remember, she puts her underwear on the same way as you!” Thanks for that mom.

As the stream of passengers filed through the terminal, Shalane was easy to spot. (Side note: It’s no secret that professional running is so glaringly detached from other sports, and yet it seemed crazy to me that no one on her flight seemed to realize they were flying with an Olympic bronze medalist. Then again, it was late at night in Allentown, PA’s tiny airport.) She was toting a navy blue U.S.A.-emblazoned suitcase, to which she confirmed that it was indeed the one she brought to London. I tried to wrap my brain around that fact as I loaded it into my trunk.

On Friday afternoon, after spending the day at a RW blogger meet-and-greet and later a signing, I picked up Shalane in the hotel lobby for a shakeout run with participants of the event and local runners. Off we went, running down to the towpath where the run was to be held. On the way, Shalane mentioned that she didn’t know what to do with her hotel key, and I said I’d hold it for her. She said she sometimes sticks it in her sports bra even though her guy friends think it’s gross because it gets sweaty. I told her, “Heck, I do that too! Cards are just about the only thing I can store down there!” We laughed. Flat-chested women for the win!

On Saturday morning, Shalane had to log a 90-minute workout before her first commitment for the day. She hopped in my car at 7:30 a.m. so we could head over to Lehigh University’s athletic campus for the run. She mentioned that a wedding party had kept her up the night before and that she had called the front desk to ask them to quiet down the partiers. She admitted that she told them she had a race (rather than a workout) to run in the morning, because she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously if she had said “workout.” I’ll have to keep that clever little trick in mind for later. She also told me she wasn’t exactly excited for the workout, wishing it would just be over with and done. I thought, “Halleluiah! Even the elites don’t like waking up at the butt crack of earliness to log tons of miles!” It was so wonderful to realize that she’s so refreshingly…normal.

It was a stunning autumn morning, cool and misty, perfect for running. We warmed up together for 30 minutes, pausing only to hit the porta-potties where Shalane exclaimed after shutting the door, “YES! There’s toilet paper!” Yes, every runner appreciates toilet paper.

Near the end of the warmup, our pace had progressed to the point where it felt like a tempo run. Ooof. Then she told me she was going to kick it up a notch to start her workout, saying, “Catch ya on the flip side!” And off she went. I slowed down to a walk, trying to catch my breath. Talk about an out-of-body experience. I had just run alongside an Olympian, someone I’ve looked up to for years. Did that seriously just happen?

The trail was out-and-back, so I waited for her at the end so we could meet up and cool down back to campus. A while later in the middle of the workout, I spotted her bright-pink top and blonde hair charging soundlessly toward me. The moment struck me because it mirrored the London Olympic Marathon’s pace truck’s camera angle from which I watched her race just a few months earlier. Except this time, she was actually running at me on a trail that I’d done workouts on last year in college. Pure, utter craziness. Seeing her smooth stride was incredible, and, to be honest, it made me feel like I look like a baby giraffe when I run. After her workout, we cooled down a mile back to the car… at 7:10 pace no less.

Come lunchtime, we were both in desperate need of caffeine. Little did I know, Shalane literally “runs on Dunkin.” Deprived of her obsession on the West Coast in Portland, Oregon, I took her to the joint by Lehigh’s campus. (She even tweeted about it, and we went again on Sunday before she left so she could satisfy the craving.) We both ordered her favorite–“French Vanilla regular with cream and sugar”–and an assortment of doughnut holes because heck, she ran a crazy-hard workout this morning!

We had some time to kill, so we sat in the car and started talking, downing our pumpkin-flavored doughnut holes and coffee. She told me about she and Kara’s plan to race in Australia in December so they could snag the 10-K A-Standard for the 2013 World Championships early before the Boston Marathon in April. Then the topic moved on to having children. Between Lauren Fleshman’s recent blog post on the topic and the fact that she’s best friends with Kara Goucher, it was fascinating to hear her perspective. She said she hopes to continue racing professionally through the 2016 Olympics in Rio and then maybe a year or two after that, saving starting a family with her husband, Steve, until after she’s done. She said she has no problem following in the footsteps of fellow pro-runner Deena Kastor by being an “older” mom. Then we spoke about how she met Steve at the University of North Carolina, and I confided in her that I wasn’t quite so lucky in college in that department. Love it. Once we were reenergized on caffeine and sugar, we decided to explore the expo where we picked out some sparkly headbands that added the perfect touch to this photo that we took on a green screen at the RW Booth: Image

Who would’ve thought I’d be “sharing the RW cover” with Shalane Flanagan? It was especially wild because I life-size photo from her 2010 real cover was just a few feet away.

After more signings and a panel, she decided she would crash early. She was incredibly conscientious about her rest, explaining that on trips like these, she has to take extra measures to take care of her body so she avoids getting sick. This sounds obvious, but this is something we should all try to do on race weekends. Smarty pants.

On half-marathon morning, Shalane–wearing her signature white compression socks–and I headed over to the start. Shalane had decided earlier that weekend to run the half as a training run, shooting for 7:00 to 7:10s. Because I was just two weeks post-marathon, my “goal” was to try to stay with her for as long as physically possible, then drop off and enjoy the ride. As we wove through the runners to get to the front of the corrals, the announcers kept asking the crowd if they’d spotted Shalane, and we giggled because, well, we knew where she was!

Besides my over-excitement for just being at our event that we’d been working on for nearly a year, it was so neat to be there alongside Shalane. Once the gun went off, the two of us set off through the streets of Bethlehem toward Lehigh. We were flying. We rounded a turn heading into the first hill at mile 1 at 6:45 pace. Ooof. Much too fast. At the top off the hill, I was already spent and dropped back from Shalane to settle into my own pace. Yep, she’s fast, not like I didn’t know that already!

The race was absolutely awesome. I’ve run through those streets countless times for Lehigh cross-country training runs, and to get to race through them was incredible. Along the way, I ran into old Lehigh friends, spoke to RW readers, and even ran alongside Dean Karnazes for a few minutes. I finished in 1:37:52, which was much faster than it felt, so I was thrilled. I soon learned that Shalane had paced the female leaders for much of the race and let the winner break the tape. How freakin’ cool? I don’t think there really is another sport where an Olympian can run alongside a regular runner. Talk about reasons why I LOVE this sport! The thought of it just gives me chills.

Seeing that moment reaffirmed what I’d come to realize over the course of the weekend. Running bridges the gaps between all ages, shapes, sizes…the list could go on. I realize that sounds epically cliché, but it was truly eye-opening to see it right in front of me. I realized that an elite like Shalane really wasn’t “superhuman”–like the rest of us, she sometimes dreads those early morning runs and doesn’t mind occasionally rewarding herself with a doughnut hole or two (or three) after a workout–but that her commitment and dedication to her passion is what has elevated her to the level she’s achieved. Talk about inspiring, right?

Before I dropped Shalane off at the airport, I admitted that I needed to geek-out at her for a second and that she needed to sign my race bib – the perfect memento for a perfect weekend.

If you got to hang out with an elite runner, what would you ask them?

QUOTE OF THE POST: “Every time I fail I assume I will be a stronger person for it.” – Joan Benoit Samuelson

Read my other Race Reports here. 

by megrunnergirl

Race Report | Steamtown Marathon

I couldn’t tell you how many races I’ve run since I began running competitively over 10 years ago. That being said, it’s a pretty rare occurrence for me to toe the line for a distance I’d never run before. And a marathon is definitively a distance. Even though I’d completed two 20-milers in training and was assured by my RW coworkers that I would get through the elusive final 6.2, I still couldn’t wrap my brain around it all. A marathon is a lonnnnng way for things to go awry, and that’s where my anxiety was rooted. Here were my goals for the day:

  • The goal of any newbie marathoner: finish. Unless something dramatic happened mid-race, I knew I’d get to the finish line eventually. I wanted the medal so badly!
  • Feel “good” for most of the race and keep a reasonable pace from start to finish – no major tummy issues, unplanned trips to the porto-potties, or cramps bad enough to force me to a walk.
  • Follow my race plan to a T. I’d have to be an idiot not to use the advice given to me by my coworkers (one even won the darn thing a few years back!) The plan: go out slow­–no faster than 7:45–and fight the urge to surge down the downhills for the first half so I’d have something left in the tank for the second. I’d reassess at the half (and maybe pick it up a tad), and then let the horses go for the final 10-K if I could. Fueling-wise, sip something at nearly every aid station starting around mile four or five.
  • If A through C worked out, I’d be thrilled with anything under the Boston qualifying time of 3:35 – best case scenario would be 3:20s.
  • Regardless, I knew I’d be satisfied with any result, knowing that just getting to the line healthy was an accomplishment in and of itself. That was my mindset throughout the week leading up to the race.

The way I summarize my race when people ask is, “The uncontrollables–like the weather–worked in my favor. And, I was blessed to have an army of marathon experts around me, happy to drill the right mindset into my brain so that come race day, I could execute.” I didn’t psyche myself out because I knew I had the ability to finish. I had a concrete game plan that I was prepared to carry out. I wasn’t “racing” anyone per se, a new post-graduation development that certainly took a load of pressure off my shoulders. For the first time, I was racing for me. And it felt awesome. If I’ve struggled with anything consistently over the years on race days, it’s my head. So the fact that not a single legitimate negative thought crept into my head that morning was a victory even before the gun went off.

Within a mile of the start, I latched on to a girl named Whitney, who was shooting for the same time goal as me. We decided we’d run together for as long as possible to keep each other company, and having her by my side made the first 18ish miles fly by. We talked on and off, swapping stories, but we also were content just running in silence occasionally. We hit halfway at around 1:43 (to which I yelled, “Happy Halfway!”), and we both decided to maintain our 7:45 to 7:55 average until 20. That was plenty fast for us, and we were already a bit below our goal pace. We still had a long way to go. We both made sure to smile when we saw the race photogs, which resulted in this epic shot:

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(In response to the photo, my mum said, “You looked like that at mile 16?!?” )

I lost Whitney at a water stop around mile 18, so I set off to finish the race on my own. So far, everything felt all right save for my quads, which were starting to curse the course’s earlier downhills. I kept plugging along, passing people even though my pace had dropped to around 8:00 to 8:15 per mile. At that point, if I had started walking, I wouldn’t have be able to start back up again. Around mile 24, I started literally singing out loud when I passed speakers playing “Twist and Shout,” regaining a bit of momentum as I headed toward the final hill, dubbed “Homestretch Hill.”

And boy was it a hill. Even though it felt good to use muscles other than my quads to climb it, I was starting to get desperate for that finish line. Once I finally got close enough to see the clock, I realized I had a shot to eek out a sub-3:30 time. I surged toward the line, immediately overcome by the sheer joy in the realization that I had finished. And I didn’t walk a single step of it. What a journey.

My official time was 3:29:23. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pleased with a race result than this one, especially because the stars haven’t exactly aligned for me race-wise for a while. Turns out I was able to land one of the final spots for the 2013 Boston Marathon a couple days after the race, and I couldn’t believe it! (Whitney qualified and is running it, too! Yay for newfound running buddies!) I have to say that I’ve been bit by the marathon bug, and now I want to run them all–I already have three planned for the spring!

To say this race was a learning experience is an understatement. In the few weeks post race, I’ve tried to bottle up all that happened so I can do it again next time… only faster. =) Bring it on marathon #2! I’m ready!

QUOTE OF THE POST: “I’ve learned that finishing a marathon isn’t just an athletic achievement. It’s a state of mind; a state of mind that says anything is possible.” – John Hanc

Read my other Race Reports here.