Sweat: 2015 Year in Review - the pit and the pendulum

Hello and happy new year!  I hope 2016 has started off on the right foot for you.  It has for me, and actually, it's started off with the right three feet ... of snow.

We got pummeled with a ton of snow this past weekend.  Cheers to Winter!

Funny, this kind of epic snow puts me immediately back to 2014 when I was Ironman training, and every snowstorm brought with it the accompanying stress of "how/where/when will I do my workout??".  The timing of today's post works well with that.

Each year (admittedly, usually much earlier than now), I post a recap of the prior year's athletics feats and my goals for the current year ... I started doing this in 2013, and then had a pretty epic 2014.  But if you read my blog this past year, you know that 2015 was a rough year athletics-wise.  I guess that is inevitable coming off of the three year momentum of triathlon!-->half ironman!-->ironman!-->BQ marathon! .... BA BOOM crash.  Like this:

As much as I loved those big, juicy goals and those incredibly transformative experiences and the sweeter than can be imagined finish lines, it was impossible to sustain.  Well, that's not really fair or accurate.  It was impossible for me to sustain because I no longer wanted to make that level of effort because something had shifted; hence: the pit and the pendulum.

The pit was pretty big post-Ironman and post-BQ at Steamtown.  Where does one go after an Ironman and after qualifying for the Boston Marathon?  If you're me, you keep on going.  Or at least you try.  I had it in my head that I would obviously not continue the Ironman-level training that I had done in 2014, but I figured in 2015 I could step back just a tad and continue to run faster and faster. That didn't happen.  I don't think I'm giving anything away by saying I didn't PR once in 2015.  Every single race I did, I fell short of my time goal.  And I didn't get it: I was training, I was putting in the work, I was trying ... and yet, something was off.  And so deeper into the pit I fell.  As I went further and further from Winter to Spring, my confidence eroded more and more.  My runs were slower and I was feeling tired.  I tried to pep-talk myself up, but I realized that my heart was not in it.  And, as an allegory for life, if your heart's not in it, it's not gonna work out.

So, after a string of disappointing races (New Years Day 5K, Austin Half Marathon, Frostbite Five Miler and then the sad deflated cherry on top the New Jersey State Marathon), I opted out of racing and "training".  Truth be told, I had been struggling for awhile before I decided to just stop pushing and railroading myself and, instead, just let myself be.  Running, my soul sport, had begun to feel like a chore.  And I knew that that alone was reason to dial it back and reconnect with the reasons that I loved to run.  I resolved to take the Summer (and possibly more) off from racing and training.  I would run.  I would swim.  I would bike.  But I wouldn't "train", and I wouldn't keep a training log, and I wouldn't have a training schedule.  I would swim, bike, run for the fun of it, and for the love of it.  I hoped that this would get me out of the pit, instead of deeper into it.

And honestly, I was having a rough time.  Not only was my heart not in my races or training, but my heart wasn't into anything.  I was lonely, and that loneliness was palpable.  And an amazingly strong run could not fix it.  Nothing could.  I've made no bones about the fact that as part of my journey I wanted to find love - both to love and to be loved.  But love isn't something you can set a goal and attain and shoehorn your way into.  Love, almost always, finds you.  I knew that a shift needed to come from within.

And it did.  As part of my time off from the structure of my training/races regimen, I also resolved to go outside my comfort zone in all areas of my life.  I did, and within a relatively short amount of time, I met my Matthew.  And the pendulum swung in a major way.  We started dating and very early on, I knew (and so did he) that there was something different and something special here.  As adults in our 40s who have both been married before, we didn't propel ourselves into a relationship filled with only hearts flowers unicorns glitter and sparkles ... things got real really quick.  And while our relationship is, really, filled with hearts flowers unicorns glitter and sparkles, we've dealt with the really real stuff along the way too.  He is, without question, my soulmate.  It's only fitting that my soulmate helped me reconnect with my soul sport.

With the pendulum swing, and the resurgence of my heart, I felt more and more like me (actually, more and more like a "me" that I didn't think was possible ... a truly happy and fulfilled "me" ... which will be the subject of another post to be sure), and more and more like I wanted to really run  and race again.  I ran the Philly Half Marathon in November, and while I didn't hit a PR, I had a wonderful, fulfilling race.  As I ran, I knew I wasn't going to PR, and for the first time in a very long time, I truly did not care.  I enjoyed running and racing for their own sake and for the love of it and for how they made me feel.  I look back at that race, and I can't remember my time, but I can remember how I felt.  It was as though running was giving me a big hug.  I realized that while finish times matter and are important, right now, they don't matter as much and aren't as important to me.

So, there are no stats this year.  I usually post a run down of my distance and time for swimming, biking and running from the prior year and all of my race times/whether they were PRs.  I don't even have that information this year, because I didn't sync my watch for so long that the watch and computer utterly refused to cooperate and upload all of my workouts.  It doesn't matter -- at least not this year. It doesn't matter that I ran X miles or biked Y hours, but it does matter, very much to me, how those things felt and where I did them.  I can tell you that I swam a bunch, including a refreshing and fun swim in Jamaica where I cut my thumb on some coral that I swam too close to.  I got to swim in Mirror Lake again, and I cried actual tears in my goggles when I swam the IMLP course and remembered all of the sight landmarks along the way.

I biked a bunch.  You know biking isn't my favorite.  So I'll just say I biked a bunch because I did.  I biked with my friends and my sweetheart on the road and on trails.  I biked in Lake Placid on the IMLP bike course.

And I ran a whole lot.  Running is my favorite.  I ran runs that made me feel like I wan't tethered to legs and was, instead, flying; I ran runs that made me feel like a fraud and a failure; I ran runs that made me cry with transcendence; I ran runs with dear friends where we laughed, cried, cursed and said many inappropriate things.  I ran alone where I got lost in my thoughts.

The pendulum swing in 2015 was to a year in which I really, truly lived.  I didn't simply swim-bike-run. I fell in love, and I really lived.  I swim-bike-ran ... but I also did this ...

And this ...

And this ...

And this ...

I've found that as much as I enjoy running (and swimming and biking), there are so many delicious life experiences to be had that don't involve those things.  Hiking, zip-lining, enjoying a glass of wine, relaxing and resting ... and nurturing and being present in a loving relationship.

In keeping with that shift, I don't have any real goals for 2016 other than to continue to have fun and to do what I love.  Of course, I still love to swim/bike/run, and I will keep on doing those things.  I'm signed up for the Love Run Half Marathon in April and Escape the Cape sprint triathlon in June, which will be my first triathlon since Ironman Lake Placid, some two years ago.  And for now, that's enough.  I may decide I want to try to BQ again.  I may decide I want to do more tris.  I may decide I want to PR at a half marathon.  Or I may decide I have no desire to do any of those things, and I'm happy with the status quo of running (and swimming and biking) and don't want to do anything more than that.  I'll let my own pendulum decide.
  

Cheers to the lessons learned in 2015 and to the joyful hope of what's to come in 2016.

Oh Pickles. Mother Pickling Pickles. Pickler!

* Hint:  "pickle" is code for a really really bad work that starts with"f" and rhymes with truck.  

When I had my kids, obviously my language had to change a bit.  I would share mothering tidbits and tips with girlfriends and one of my friends, Lynn, said that "pickles" got a lot of play in her house - that you can say "Oh pickles!" when you wanted to say the F-bomb.  It worked and still does, even though at ages 7 and 9 my kids are aware that "pickles" is code for a really bad word.  

On yesterday's "long" run, I said a lot of pickles, only not pickles but the real word.  It was one of those runs.  Actually, it was another one of those runs.  It seems more of my runs are bad runs than good ones these days.  And that's really frustrating and demoralizing.  I've always said that when you have a bad run, you can wallow a bit, but ultimately put it behind you, move on, and say "new day, new run".  That the bad runs really make you appreciate the good runs.  That the bad runs make you stronger mentally and prepare you for setbacks.  But when the bad runs become the norm, it's exhausting and upsetting.  Here I am right after the run.  Who's a sad face runner? 

I've had a lot of excuses for my crappy runs: it's really humid, it's really hot, it's late in the day, I didn't fuel right, I'm exhausted, I didn't sleep enough, I'm under a lot of stress, I'm sad, I'm overwhelmed, I'm feeling blue, it's rainy, it's muggy, my legs are tired, my arches hurt.  But they're all just that: excuses.  There are some glimmers of hope peppered in there, though ... some good, strong runs that remind me that I've still got "it" in me somewhere.  Whatever "it" is. 

In the meantime, I will keep running and trying to find or at least rediscover "it" and will keep in mind the following quote: 

Run when you can,

Walk when you have to,

Crawl if you must;

Just never give up.

-Dean Karnazes, ultra marathoner  

I won't give up.  But I'm sure as pickles ready to feel like myself again on a run.  

Trail Blazing

Part of my goals for this Summer was to try new things, specifically including trail running.  I've never ever tried it before partly because I did not have the right shoes, partly because I have always had a really big goal race on the horizon and I didn't want to get hurt before that and partly because I have been chicken.  Well, there is no excuse now: I bought a pair of trail running shoes (with my REI 2014 dividend, so they were essentially free - woo hoo!), there is no big goal race looming on the horizon, and I don't like to think of myself as a chicken.  With no more excuses and a free evening, last night I went for it.  I went trail running!

I discovered the trail a month ago when I went on my wanderlust/wonderlust walk.  It's partly paved and then goes under a bridge (the Pennsylvania Turnpike is on top) and then the trail becomes dirt and rock.  Having never done a trail run before, I set zero expectations and decided to take it easy pace-wise and just see how it felt.  I also left the music at home: I think trail running is probably best experienced without any distractions.

I ended up running 3 miles and my average pace was 9:22, which makes sense.  When you are dealing with this ...

... you have to slow it down a little.  I really really loved it and I want to try it again.  I stopped for a moment to snap a few pictures of the beauty surrounding me.  

And of course a selfie! On a bridge! Sweaty! Creek over my shoulder!

I was definitely attuned to my surroundings - I was super careful to pay attention to the path in front of me, because the terrain was so varied. I could see the real need for trail running shoes.  There were several times when I totally dug into the trail, and I would have bit it if I had my regular non-spiky trail running shoes on.  

So, yes!  This was good.  This was a lot of fun, I went outside my comfort zone, and I tried something that I've always wanted to try.  I think trail running would be a lot more fun with friends, so I'm hoping to scope out some in my running club and try it with a group.  

This was a totally badass way to end an otherwise normal, mundane Monday.  

Sweat: May 2015 Workout Recap

Happy Monday!  Bah. While I'm not training for any races in particular right now, I am still swim-bike-running a lot, and I am still logging my workouts onto Training Peaks.  I figure this Summer I can do monthly recaps of what I've been up to, hopefully including some new adventures, consistent with my thoughts in the Rainbow Connection post.  So far, so good on that front!

Here's what I have been up to:

May 2015:

Swam: 4100 yards

Biked: 44.34 miles 

Ran:  65.94 miles

Yeah!  My loose plan for this Summer is to swim and bike at least once a week (and hopefully do both outside, either in the 50 meter pool or open water or bike on the trail), to run "longish" (i.e., between 6-10 miles) one day a week and then pepper in some easy runs or easy trainer bikes the rest of the week, with 1-2 rest days. So far that is working well.  I am also planning to try new things: trail running (I have my eye on a couple of places), long walks (done this month!), hiking, kayaking, stand up paddle-boarding, and maybe taking myself to the range, dusting off the drivers and trying to hit a few.  

I've been running a little with my friend Tina this month.  We met last Fall when I emailed my running club about a race bib that my friend was selling.  Tina snatched it up, and we realized we were both training for Steamtown.  We really hit it off and have been friends ever since.  We are heading up to Lake Placid in July to volunteer at Ironman, to swim/bike/run the course and for her to sign up for IMLP 2016.  I will not sign up for IMLP 2016.  2015 and 2016 will be all about Boston training for me.  

Here are Tina and I after the NJ State Marathon. Our happy! zomg! smiling faces! belie the reality that we both had tough races that day.  

May 3 was the NJ Devilman race, which I raced in 2013 and again in 2014.  I was signed up to race it this year, but it was a week after the NJ State Marathon, and I was not in any place - mental or physical - to take on a triathlon.  So I went and cheered on Amy, who placed third in her age group!  A few friends from Ironman Lake Placid camp were racing as well. And Ryan Not Bryan, my Ironman Patronus, was there spectating as well.  We hung out the whole race and were both psyched to be watching and not competing.  Here are some pictures of Amy.

May was also all about new running gear.  I went back to my favorite ruby red Sauconys.  The blue Sauconys were OK, but they just didn't fit as well as my red ones.  

I also snagged two new running shirts (for $6 each!) at a booth at the NJ State Marathon expo.  They were freaking adorable.  One says "Lucky" with a simple shamrock.  The other, "O'Runner Girl" -- how perfect for me!?! 

I blogged about taking a nice long contemplative walk and literally being able to stop and smell the roses.  I wore my new trail runners and liked them a lot, even if I was walking and not running \.

The Friday before Memorial Day, I ran 6 miles at Peace Valley Park, which is one of my favorite places - ever - to run.  The run itself was great.  But I was more excited about my discovery after the run, when I stopped at the nearby 7/11 to grab a drink and realized that Gatorade was bringing back retired flavors from long ago, including my absolute favorite flavor ever: Lemon Ice.  !!!!!!  I need to go buy more.  

I biked on the trail - 25 miles.  And the highlight of that ride was my flat.  I got a flat on my front tire with about 2 miles left to go.  I stopped and changed that bad boy on my own.  And then, like a totally normal adult, I raised the tire over my head and shouted, "Look what I have done!!!!" 

I've done a bunch of open water swims, which always does my soul good.  The first one I did, I got a little nervous, just like last year, but thankfully at this point, I am no longer freaked at all about open water swimming.  I just swam and had no issues.  Yay.  I really love swimming in the open water.  I seek it out every chance I get.  

Finally, since it's apparently Summer in May, I have done a bunch of longish runs this month, including a 7 miler yesterday at 8:57 pace.  That makes me very happy.  Even if I have sweaty mean-face.  

Enjoy your week! Hopefully in my next monthly recap of workouts, I'll have a brand new experience to share.  

Sweat: Playlist roundup! Including the newest one!

This post will be useful for approximately 0.1% of the people who read this blog.  It will be a source of entertainment or ridicule for the rest.  I've got a round up of some of my favorite playlists.  They are all really great.  And all pretty special.  They may make you go like this!

Or [probably] like this:

But regardless, they're fun.  Feel free to click (they are all old blog posts where I shared the playlist at the bottom) and pilfer what works for you.  What works for me:

For a 5K - all fast cadence songs with 160-180 bpm

For any longer distance running - a mix of slow and fast songs

I'll also share my newest playlist, which I used at the NJ State Marathon (with my comments after certain songs in red italics).  Even though that race wasn't the best, the playlist was.  Also, excitement: in just three little weeks, some of my besties and I are going to the BARRY MANILOW CONCERT OH MY GOD ALL CAPS ALL CAPS EXCITEMENT WITH SEQUINS!  I'm pretty sure I'm going to live blog the hell out of it.  !!!!!  

!!!

Onto the playlists.   

Fast 5K Playlist

Another Bad Playlist

Austin Yee Haw! Half Marathon Playlist

BQ! Steamtown Playlist

Philadelphia Marathon 2013!

Pretty Awesome Songs That Are Awesome

Rainbows! Unicorns! <-- that's the title of the playlist.

1812 Overture (Finale)  I'm telling you - it will inspire you. Put it on your playlist!

All Night Long (Lionel Richie)

All Out of Love (Air Supply)

Always On My Mind (Elvis Presley)

America (Neil Diamond)

Annie's Song (John Denver)

Apache (The Sugarhill Gang)

Baby, Now That I've Found You (The Foundations)

Bad, Bad Leroy Brown  (Jim Croce)

Black Water (The Doobie Brothers)

Brandy (Looking Glass)

Break My Stride (Matthew Wilder)

Bridge Over Troubled Water (Elvis Presley)

Can I Get A... (Jay Z)

Can't Hold Us (feat. Ray Dalton) (Macklemore & Ryan Lewis)

Carry On (Fun.)

Count On Me (Jefferson Starship) I heard this at the end of the movie The Family Stone. I love it. It makes me cry but that's OK.

Different Drum (The Stone Poneys)

Do You Hear the People Sing? (Les Misérables Original London Cast) 

Don't Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John & Kiki Dee)

Double Dutch Bus (Frankie Smith)

Down (feat. Lil Wayne) (Jay Sean)

Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)

Feels So Good (Chuck Mangione) I hit this sucker three times at the end of NJ Marathon.  It's that awesome.

Flashdance...What a Feeling (Irene Cara)

Freedom Street (Ken Boothe)

The Gambler (Kenny Rogers )

Go Your Own Way (Fleetwood Mac)

Hard Knock Life (JAY Z)

Here I Go Again (Whitesnake)

Hold On (Wilson Phillips)

Hopelessly Devoted to You (Olivia Newton-John) I defy you to not bust out into song with this one.

I Am...I Said (Neil Diamond)

I Got a Name (Jim Croce)

(I've Had) The Time of My Life (Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes) Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

If You Could Read My Mind (Ela Wardi)

If You Leave Me Now (Chicago)

It Takes Two (Rob Base & DJ EZ)

It's My Turn (Diana Ross)

It's Not Unusual (Tom Jones)

Let It Go (Demi Lovato)

Let's Hang On (The Four Seasons)

Like a Prayer (Madonna )

Livin' On a Prayer (Bon Jovi)

Lotta Love (Nicolette Larson)

Move Bitch (Disturbing tha Peace)

My Life (Billy Joel)

Never Can Say Goodbye  (Jackson 5)

Never Knew Love Like This Before (Stephanie Mills)

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now (Starship)

Our House (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)

Party In the U.S.A. (Miley Cyrus)

Penny Lane (The Beatles)

Philadelphia Freedom (Elton John)

Shake It Off (Taylor Swift)

Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It) (Beyoncé)

Sister Christian (Night Ranger)

Sloop John B (The Beach Boys)

Southern Cross (Jimmy Buffett)

St Elmo's Fire (John Parr)

Suspicious Minds (Elvis Presley)

Take Me Home, Country Roads (John Denver) The song that reminds me most of home ... even though I'm from South Jersey and not West Virginia

Take On Me (a-ha)

Talking In Your Sleep (The Romantics)

The Tears of a Clown (Smokey Robinson & The Miracles) This song is the only exception to the NO CLOWN rule I have

Theme from "Greatest American Hero" (Believe It or Not) (Joey Scarbury) A now-staple on every playlist. 

Tomorrow (Andrea McArdle) yes. from Annie.

Touch Me In the Morning (Diana Ross)

Waiting for a Star to Fall (Boy Meets Girl)

We Built This City / We’re Not Gonna Take It (Russell Brand & Catherine Zeta-Jones: Rock of Ages (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack))

What a Fool Believes (The Doobie Brothers)

Wherever You Will Go (The Callin: Love Actually (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack))

While You See a Chance (Steve Winwood) Fist pump to the sky when this comes on.

With Your Love (Jefferson Starship)

Woman In Love (Barbra Streisand)  This is also a new staple. Add it to your list. Go for it. 

Working My Way Back to You (Spinners)

You Can Do It  (Ice Cube)

You May Be Right (Billy Joel)

You Shook Me All Night Long (AC/DC)

Enjoy.

Race Recap: 2015 Novo Nordisk New Jersey State Marathon

Hello hello.  Happy Tuesday!  I rarely (ok never) post on Tuesdays, but I haven't been making time for blogging lately.  Part of that is because I've been avoiding this post.  I am usually so super excited to recap a race here on the blog ... but this one ... not so much.

On Sunday April 26, I raced the 2015 Novo Nordisk New Jersey State Marathon.  Even though I qualified for Boston back in October at the Steamtown Marathon, I wanted to really "seal the deal" and run a marathon even faster to guarantee I could run at Boston in April 2016.  That was the plan going into New Jersey:  I would train all Winter and early Spring, get faster, and boom! I'd PR and run the marathon around 3:40.  Ah ... the best laid plans of mice and men.  Needless to say that did not happen.  It didn't even come close to happening.  It the opposite of happened.  And I have a lot to say about it, having had two full weeks to think about it and learn from it.  So, I'm going to split this post into two parts: part I - the race recap (which will be replete with photos) and part II - my take-aways.  Sit back, grab some coffee and a small delicious treat, because this is gonna go on for awhile.

Part I:  Race Recap  

I'll give it all away up front with a screencap of my splits and final time:

Yeppers.  4:03:15.  That's the second slowest stand-alone marathon I've ever done (I don't count IMLP).  It's the slowest marathon I've run in years.  And it was a freaking battle.  I'll get into that in Part II, but man.  Oooooooooooof.  Oof.  

My training was totally on track until I got the flu about 3 weeks before the race.  That laid me flat on my back and unable to train.  My training runs after the flu weren't that great.  So going into the race, I was not very confident.  Still ... I had put in the hard work and thought I might be able to do it.  My race plan was to run the first 3 miles at 8:30 pace and then drop to 8:20-8:25 and hold it for the rest of the race. 

And then God laughed.  My paces steadily get slower and slower with each mile. 

Miles 1-3:  8:24, 8:26, 8:26

I held the pace.  I felt really good.  I did a systems check at mile 3 and thought to myself, "OK ... you can push a little faster."  So I did.

Miles 4-8:  8:22, 8:12, 8:28, 8:19, 8:27

These miles were great.  I remember running over a little bridge around mile 6-7 and I felt all gazelle like and powerful and happy and strong.

Miles 9-11 - 8:29, 8:34, 8:39

Yah.  I was starting to feel it a little.  I convinced myself I would just slow a wee bit and then make it up at the end.  Once I hit mile 11, I started questioning this wisdom and was really tempted to bag the marathon and just finish at the half.  

Miles 12-13:  8:50, 8:54

I am usually feeling so super strong at miles 12-13.  Not so much here.  I just kept thinking how I still had to run another half marathon.  Not the right mindset.  No way.  And these were the last miles where I'd see an 8 as the first digit in my time.

Miles 14-20:  9:19, 9:09, 9:24, 9:22, 9:48, 9:28

I don't remember much about these miles to be honest.  I know I was miserable. I was tired.  My legs were tired.  I told myself I could walk through any water station that was around and tried very hard not to walk otherwise.  I also allowed myself to walk for as long as I wanted through the aid station. 

Miles 21-23:  9:38, 10:19, 9:44

OOF.   

Mile 24:  11:06

I can't use words.  How about pictures from this mile

That is not the face of a happy runner. 

Miles 25-26:  10:39, 9:30

Once I hit the final mile and could see/hear the finish line, I rallied a bit and tried to run as hard and strong and fast as I could.  Here are some final pictures of me nearing the finish.  

And then in the finish chute ...

Pictures are definitely worth a thousand words.  If ever race photos told the story of a race, it is these for sure.  I can read the pain, disappointment, resignation and just plain unhappiness on my face.  

Part II:  The Take-Aways

I will forever consider this race my "Tale of Two Cities" Marathon, or more precisely the Tale of Eight Cities Marathon, as the course winds through a bunch of shore towns in the Northern New Jersey beaches (Oceanport, Monmouth Beach, Long Branch, Deal, Allenhurst, Loch Arbour, Asbury Park and Ocean Grove).  But geography aside, looking back, I can't help but think that the race was one of contradictions, just like the beginning of one of my favorite books,  A Tale of Two Cities.  

It was the best of times ...  the first 10 miles

It was the worst of times ... pretty much everything else.

It was the age of wisdom ... at the end when I decided to cut myself a freaking break and look at the ocean and relish the fact that I was alive and able to run a marathon

It was the age of foolishness ... that I didn't really trust my body and go by the signs it was showing me those last few weeks in training. I started way too fast.  

It was the epoch of belief ... there was a moment early on when I believed I might actually do it.

It was the epoch of incredulity ... the moment at mile 24 when I realized it was impossible to run a sub 4:00 marathon.  Unless I sprouted wings.  Or roller skates.  

It was the season of Light ... the start and that hopeful anticipation.

It was the season of Darkness ... mile 20 when the woman on the side of the road cheerfully said, "you're almost there!"  MURDEROUS RAGE NO I AM NOT!!!!  

It was the spring of hope ... there was a brief shining moment sometime between mile 15 and 20 when I thought I might rally.  I might do it.  I might ... no.

It was the winter of despair ... mile 15.  I took my first walk break.  I have never had to walk that early in a race.  And I looked at my watch, and looked at the mile marker and thought "Goddamn.  This is just like labor with a second child.  I know what to expect, having been through it before, and I know I have a lot more pain, and a lot more time to go, before this is over."  And then I realized that I was comparing running to childbirth.  And I wanted to cry.  

At the end of the day, I just didn't have it.  I don't know what happened.  Believe you me, I have wracked my brain to figure it out, and I can't.  Yes, the flu set me back, but I cannot believe that a week of not running would destroy my fitness after all the hard work that I'd done over the Winter.  I do know that on my last two long runs, I finished them completely gassed - my lungs were tired and my legs were tired.  The lungs didn't worry me.  I know that the lungs take awhile to recover from the flu.  But the legs?  This wasn't my first rodeo and I knew that my legs should be feeling really strong - and nothing like they were feeling - that close to race day.  

I think, at the end of the day, I lacked the heart.  As much as I wanted to convince myself that I wanted to do this race, I wanted to PR, I wanted to run fast, etc. etc. etc., I am not sure my heart really felt that way.  And if I've learned anything in sports or in life generally over the past few years, if your heart isn't in it, there's no point.  The heart just doesn't work that way. 

Amy sent me a text with about two weeks to go and I saved it.  I had expressed to her my concern that things just didn't feel right.  And she said this:

The marathon is two weeks of healing and strengthening - mind, body and soul - away. You've got the legs and the lungs.  Now for the heart.   

She was, of course, spot on right.  And while I tried to get my heart into it, the heart doesn't want what it doesn't want.  Deep down, I knew I had already BQed.  Deep down, I knew my Steamtown time was good enough to get me into Boston.  Deep down, my heart just wasn't in it.  And I was tired.  

It's hard to admit that.  But I am. I am really tired.  Not of running.  But of the hamster wheel of races and training that I happily put myself on over the past 3 years.  It's hard to admit that I'm tired of racing because I've heard cautionary tales and warnings time and time again about burn out.  I didn't, and don't, want to play into that.  But in complete and total candor, it is very hard to go from Ironman! BQ! Racking up PRs like they are beads on an abacus! to a string of pretty good, but ultimately disappointing, races that fell short of the times I expected or that I've seen or that I've come to expect over the past few years.  So far, 2015 has been that kind of year.  It's been frustrating and challenging in so many ways.  Rather than continue to be frustrated and feel like training is a chore and I'm spinning my wheels or moving backwards, I'm taking a little break from it and will just swim, just bike, just run and enjoy.  

I will completely admit that I wanted to quit this race.  Many times.  At mile 11, I seriously considered turning left at the split, doing the half marathon and walking away with a decent time.  I almost did it.  But yelled at myself to do something to myself that was anatomically impossible and went right.  Every time I passed a police car on the course, I was so tempted to run over, say "I am quitting. Please take me to the finish line." But I didn't. I kept on going.  I learned that while my heart may not have been in that race, I still had guts and grit -- and a lot of them.  I learned what it felt like to race on those two things alone.  It isn't pretty.  It isn't easy.  But I did it.  I showed myself that I had some serious mettle.  

At the end of the race, in that final mile, I went from beating myself up about a crappy, hard fought and disappointing race, to realizing how completely ridiculous I was being.  I thought about my cousin who just passed away and my friend Maggie who died a number of years ago, and realized that I was being so selfish, stupid and spoiled.  Here I was, on a stunningly beautiful Spring day in a beautiful spot, with the ocean in my sights, finishing my 7th marathon and I was sad and mad because I was not hitting a time that I thought I should hit -- how utterly dumb and myopic.  I forced myself to look out into the ocean and soak it all in and be thankful for this amazing life that I get to live and this incredible thing that I did. And somehow, the photographer managed to catch that moment.

And then as if that moment were not enough, I followed another runner to the finish line.  It was obviously that person's first race and while I normally try to gun it to the finish, in this case, I hung back a bit, so that the first timer could have a moment at the finish without me busting through and ruining the shot.  There's nothing like seeing someone cross a marathon finish line for the first time.  Here's the picture:

What you cannot see is right after this picture was taken and we crossed the finish line, that first timer ran to the side of the chute to his mother, who was waiting for him.  The two hugged and just collapsed into joyful sobs.  That ... that is the heart and soul of the marathon right there.  You can't fake that heart.  And I wouldn't ever want to.  It was honest, pure and raw emotion.  It was pure heart.  I'm ready to get mine back into the sport that I love, and seeing that moment at the finish line showed me that I am not there yet.  I'll get back there again, but I know I can't force it.  In the meantime, I'll remember that finish line moment that was not my own but which profoundly affected me and reminded me how much I truly love running.