Live and Learn: 2020 Goals Edition

I like to have goals – concrete targets where I can aim and that I can use to measure my progress and focus my efforts. Entering 2020, I had set exercise goals in five categories: running, walking/hiking, strength training, planks, and biking (exercise bike or traditional bike).

Take a guess at how many of those five goals I achieved.

One. That’s right. ONE. UNO. ENO. UN. You get the idea.

I was so, so close to a second goal and within (distant) spitting range of a third. And two goals I didn’t even come close to meeting.

Cringe.

On the bright side, I knocked it out of the park with the one goal I met, so there’s that, I guess.

Don’t get me wrong; I knew my exercise totals weren’t going to be pretty, so I wasn’t entirely surprised at the results. Before I tallied everything up, I honestly wasn’t sure I was going to meet any of my goals. That said, I didn’t think I’d be so far off of meeting so many of them. (I did, however, meet my goal of reading the Bible out loud, cover to cover, in 2020. YAHOO!)

I spent a little chunk of time this past weekend pondering what went so horribly awry for me with my exercise goals. From what I can tell, it boils down to a few things:

1. I didn’t know what I was capable of. I hadn’t done a tally of my exercise in 2019, so I had no idea what would be reasonable for me to achieve in 2020. I set my 2020 goals loosely based on some goals I had set seven-ish years prior, when life looked a lot different for me. Whoops.
2. I didn’t check in on my progress during the year. This is a big one, especially for the goal I was incredibly close to meeting. If I would have been paying attention to my progress, I could have met that goal SO easily and maybe gotten respectably close to meeting the others.
3. I hadn’t planned on life as I knew it being completely blown out of the water. I guess that’s the thing with goals – you set them based on your current and/or anticipated situation, but sometimes curveballs happen. As the vast majority of people can attest, 2020 was one gigantic curveball, to say the least. In my case, not only was there the global event that I am not going to mention by name, but there were a lot of unrelated changes with my job and other things I’m involved with, so I had a lot less free time than usual…and I was a lot more frustrated than usual. I did pour my frustration into exercise, but not in the categories I’d set for myself. (For example, I shot hoops a lot.)

OK, now that we know why I struggled to meet my goals, let’s take a look at each goal a little more closely.

RUNNING
Target: 500 miles
Reality: 356.15 miles
Deficit: 143.85 miles
Monthly Breakdown:

Entering 2020, running 500 miles felt like a pretty conservative goal for me. One thing I’m realizing, though, is that it really helps me to have a reason to run. As in, a race I’m training for. Looking at the monthly breakdown, the months where I logged the most miles are the months where I was training for a race (see August and September – 64.4 miles and 80.7 miles, respectively – when I was training for the Crazy Horse Half Marathon). In late February and early March, I’d been training for the Rutgers Unite Half Marathon, which would have been in mid-April; it was canceled, so, despite my desire to continue my training program, I kind of stopped training in mid-March. (Then the race directors said, “Hey, we’re making it a virtual race!” So, on the day the race would have been held, Mom and I went out and did 13.1 miles after not really running the previous month.) If I hadn’t stopped training for Rutgers, I would have logged maybe 80 or so additional training miles, which would have put me within spitting range of my goal.

Along those same lines, a number of other half marathons I had considered signing up for were canceled. I log about 150 miles each time I train for a half marathon, so if I had even been able to do one more half, it’s likely I would have met my running goal.

But hey. Since I didn’t have races to focus on, my running fell by the wayside. I could have/should have independently laced up my Mizuno Wave Inspires and logged more miles just for fun, but I didn’t. No excuses here, just observations.

2021 running goal: 500 miles. I should be able to do this if I take ownership of my time and override the part of me that can’t seem to get motivated.

WALKING/HIKING
Target: 200 miles
Reality: 309.65 miles
Surplus: 109.65 miles
Monthly Breakdown:

Woohoo! I knocked this one out of the park! This is one instance where I didn’t know what I was capable of (in a positive sense).

Looking at the monthly breakdown, my numbers started to spike over the summer, when I took more time to walk as a way to blow off some steam during the day. I also walked more to meet up with my family in town, etc.

My highest total came in October, when I logged 60.4 miles. This was due to an amazing trip to South Dakota with my dad (more to come on that in future blog posts); we flew out there to run some races but spent a few extra days hiking around in Custer State Park, Spearfish Canyon, the Badlands, etc. I also joined my church’s youth group on a backpacking trip that month.

My 2020 total could have been higher, but there were a few additional hiking opportunities I typically would have had but weren’t available to me for various reasons. Hey, no complaints here, though; I’m just glad to have one goal I actually met!

2021 walking/hiking goal: 350 miles. I decided to add just a bit to what I totaled in 2020. Who knows? Maybe I’ll far exceed this goal, too, in which case I’ll need to give myself more of a challenge in 2022.

STRENGTH TRAINING
Target: 150 sessions
Reality: 132 sessions
Deficit: 18 sessions
Monthly Breakdown:

It was feast or famine with strength training in 2020: I had stretches where all I wanted to do was lift and stretches where I barely picked up my weights. The first three months of the year were pretty bare, but I found my stride in the spring and early summer. Strength training took a backseat to cardio in the late summer and fall, but I refocused on it during December thanks to a “12 Days of Christmas” workout that was pretty heavy on arm stuff.

If I’d been aware of my progress during the year, I might have pushed myself to meet this goal. Hard to say, though.

I measured this goal in the number of sessions (instead of tracking my improvement in number of reps or amount of weight lifted, etc.) because my strength training is so varied; I don’t stick only with lifting dumbbells, for example. I do that, but I also do bodyweight stuff and fitness trails and miscellaneous strength training exercises (like cat press instead of bench press). Maybe I’ll come up with a better way to measure this goal in the future, but for now I figure that measuring in number of sessions can generally account for how well (or poorly) I focus on strength training.

2021 strength training goal: 150 sessions (again). Let’s see if I can keep a more consistent focus on this year-round this time.

My purrsonal trainer, Sebastian, sometimes helps me track my strength training workouts.

PLANKS
Target: 500 minutes
Reality: 477.5 minutes
Deficit: 22.5 minutes
Monthly Breakdown:

I MISSED THIS GOAL BY ONLY 22.5 MINUTES?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? If I would have planked just 26 more seconds per week, I would have met this goal. Or if I would have done just one more Saturday of planking every hour for 12 hours (which I did a handful of Saturdays over the summer), I would have met this goal. If I would have just CHECKED MY PROGRESS at any point during the year, I would have recognized how close I was, and I would have MADE IT HAPPEN. This one stings a bit, to be honest, because it was so achievable!

June was my best planking month; I tallied 110 minutes of planks, an average of a 3:40 plank every day. I also had good months in May (97 minutes) and December (98 minutes); if I’d known how close I was to the century mark those two months, I would have done a bit more planking to get there. Also, I did ZERO minutes of planks in October; not sure why I trailed off like that, but if I hadn’t, I would have met my goal.

Overall, I averaged 39.47 minutes of planking every month. (Side note: 41:40 per month would have had me meet my goal.)

Grrr. OK, we have established how reachable this goal was and how frustrating it was (and is) not to have met it. It’s time to change the coulda/woulda/shoulda of 2020 into the can/will/DID IT of 2021.

2021 planks goal: 600 minutes. Because I was so close to my 2020 goal, I figure I can add some more minutes to the 2021 goal and make it. After all, that’s only an average of 11:30 per week!

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Feeling the pain of a 3-minute plank (left) and being “assisted” by my furry friend Layne (right), who held my forearm down (while purring) as I struggled through another plank

BIKING (Exercise Bike or Traditional Bike)
Target: 25 hours
Reality: 12 hours, 20 minutes
Deficit: 12 hours, 40 minutes
Monthly Breakdown:

OK, how did I not even make it halfway? I felt like I spent so much more time on the bike than that. (Side note: I calculated this in minutes instead of miles because most of my biking happens on my exercise bike, which doesn’t have a working odometer.)

My best month was November, when I tallied 2.5 hours on the exercise bike. That was only because I spent a few weeks quarantining and the exercise bike was my only option for exercise. Despite my focus on riding the exercise bike in November, my total for that month wasn’t blow-my-mind amazing; it was just solid.

I didn’t hop on the bike at all in August or September; that’s partially excusable because I was training for a half marathon, but still, I should have been more devoted to riding the bike as part of my cross-training.

Again, live and learn. The exercise bike started getting pretty squeaky toward the end of the year, so I’ll have to adjust that so I don’t lose my mind while using it as I work to exceed my 2021 goal.

2021 biking goal: 25 hours. If at first you don’t succeed, try again!

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Logging some time on the bike with friends in Harpers Ferry, W.Va., in July 2020

NEW 2021 CATEGORY: BURPEES
You know those people who aim to run 2,020 miles in 2020 or 1,998 miles in 1998, etc.? I always thought it would be cool to do something like that. (A.D. 356 would have been a great year to live for that reason. See my 2020 running mileage total if you don’t get why I picked A.D. 356…)

Of course, since I didn’t even reach 500 miles in 2020, running 2,021 miles in 2021 is definitely out of the question. Perhaps some year I’ll set a distance-based goal like that.

For 2021, though, I decided to pick a physical activity that will provide a different sort of challenge: 2,021 burpees! The number sounds like a lot, but when you do the math, it seems more manageable; it averages out to about six burpees every day. The challenge will be making time for them and cranking them out when I just feel like sitting on the couch. I already have some girls from my basketball team on board, so having that accountability should be a help to all of us.

2021 burpees goal: 2,021. Let’s do this!

Maybe this year will throw endless curveballs, or maybe it will be smooth sailing the whole way through. No matter what, I’m going to do my best to reach these goals – and I’m going to keep track of my progress along the way!

Better for You: MYO Sports Drink

The other day (which – let’s be honest – actually means a few weeks or months ago) I finished up an outdoor workout. When I returned home, I drank about half of a sports drink to replenish myself. It was quite tasty and refreshing, exactly what I’d been hoping for.

As I sat there, I found myself thinking back to some of the out-of-the-box recipes I’d tried to make over the years: raw apple pie, raw brownies, raw lasagna, lemon cauliflower pudding, and so on and so forth. And it hit me: Why not try to make my own sports drink, one with minimal added sugar and no extra gunk? Was that even a thing? Immediately I did an online search for “homemade sports drink” and got a few solid options.

But then life happened, and my inspiration to make a sports drink was placed on a back burner for a while. It would cross my mind every now and then, but that was about it.

A few days ago (literally meaning “a few days ago” this time, haha), I had a long conversation with a friend, during which we talked a lot about changes we’re making to improve our health. She and I are both pretty active, so I brought up the MYO sports drink idea. Just talking about it renewed my interest, and she was intrigued as well.

So I revisited that idea and researched recipes again. There were a few options that called for fruit juice (as in, premade); while they specified that it should be 100% fruit juice, I wanted something a bit more natural. I finally stumbled across a simple recipe on a site called The Honour System that was almost exactly what I was looking for: citrus fruits, minimal sugar, salt, and water. Bingo.

One short visit to the store later and I was all set to make two flavors of the sports drink: lemon-lime and orange.

Ingredients:
-1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice (this worked out to one and a half limes for me, although I know it varies) for the lemon-lime flavor OR 1/2 cup freshly squeezed orange juice (one orange for me) for the orange flavor
The remainder of the ingredients are the same for each flavor:
-1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (about one lemon for me)
-2 cups fresh water
-1/8 tablespoon sea salt
-2 tablespoons organic cane sugar

The Process:
-Combine all ingredients in a resealable jar/beverage container and shake together.
-Can be stored in the fridge for up to a week.
-That’s it!

Rolling the lemon around

Look! It’s a lime!

In goes the orange juice…

Just a little bit of sugar…

Salt into the orange drink…

And some salt into the lemon-lime

The recipe says it’ll take 15 minutes to make, but it took me longer than that because I am an absolute SLOTH in the kitchen.

But the wait was worth it.

Shake it up!

After giving it a good shake, I tried the lemon-lime first. When I unscrewed the lid and took a sniff, the smell was so acidic that I honestly felt like I was going to be drinking straight-up lemon juice. But no – it was absolutely delicious. Tart, yes, but very, very good. I was absolutely wowed.

YUM.

I then tried the orange, and that one blew me away as well! SO GOOD. I’d left a few small chunks of pulp in this one on purpose, and that was a good call in my opinion. Also would have been totally fine without, but if you like pulp/texture, keep that in mind.

DELICIOUS. (Ignore the bottle…)

Now, for a few takeaways:
-Make sure you have appropriate (resealable) jars/containers to hold these drinks, assuming you’re not consuming them right away. I didn’t have enough appropriate containers, so I initially mixed the orange one in a large-ish cup. Only afterward did I remember I had an empty (large) plastic water bottle, so I transferred the orange drink over after I had mixed it all together. The mastermind behind The Honour System site ended up purchasing mason jars for these sports drinks, and that’s not a bad idea for anyone who’s going to be making them regularly.

-Also might be worth buying an inexpensive citrus squeezer/juicer to expedite the process, says the kitchen sloth (yours truly).

-I’m interested in trying this with coconut water replacing some or all of the regular water. I’m not a fan of coconut water, so I don’t know how this will go, but I know that coconut water is chock full of electrolytes and other good stuff. If you try it that way, give me a shout and let me know how it went!

The verdict overall? 10/10 would make again. Also, I can’t wait to do a few difficult workouts so I can replenish myself with these drinks afterward.

Success.

Ten Years of Operation Life

Ten years ago today, on April 26, 2010, I took the first steps on a journey – a journey toward improved health, improved energy levels, better fitness, and a whole host of other benefits that I hadn’t anticipated. This journey is called Operation Life.

The first stirrings of Operation Life can actually be traced to a few weeks before, on April 5, 2010, when I realized I wasn’t as healthy as I thought I was. I had found myself in a bit of a rut since graduating from college the year before, and I was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with certain aspects of life. That led to me being grouchy, perpetually tired, and generally lethargic – and I kind of tried to self-medicate with food. It didn’t work, and, in fact, it likely made things worse, contributing to my downward spiral.

But on April 5, the rubber hit the road and I realized I needed to change something about the way I was living. My family was planning an incredible trip to South Dakota that summer, and I knew I wanted to get in great shape so I could make the most of the experience – lots of hiking, climbing, exploring, you name it.

Three weeks later, I started taking tangible steps toward this goal as part of an effort dubbed Operation South Dakota. My mom decided to join me, and it was so helpful to have accountability. I started eating more fruits and veggies. I walked past the bags of chips on top of the fridge when I got home from work. I exercised more regularly and more intentionally. My first official workout to prepare for the South Dakota trip was a weightlifting session using dumbbells I already owned. I don’t remember what the routine was, but it was probably something weird I created on my own with no idea what I was doing (sorry, Dad).

As time progressed and the trip grew closer, I was loving how much better I felt – stronger, more rested, happier, more fit. Mom and I decided that Operation South Dakota should be renamed Operation Life, because we were not going to stop our efforts or scale them back once the trip was behind us. No, our new way of approaching life was going to stick with us.

The sis and yours truly exploring the Badlands

Family hike near Sylvan Lake

And it did. I loved working out and eating in ways that fueled my body to be its best.

As I ramped up my veggie intake, I expanded my horizons by discovering a world of strange but healthy recipes.

Some of them were surprisingly good. Take raw lasagna, for example. Completely vegan, right down to the “ricotta cheese” that was actually made from macadamia nuts and pine nuts. It was very tasty, but I only made it once because it was EXPENSIVE. Another surprise was a kale juice recipe; sounds gross but ended up being very tasty!

Then there were the recipes that were expectedly good: smoothies and three-ingredient cookies, for example. I haven’t made those cookies in a while. Maybe I will soon – perhaps today?

Tasty three-ingredient cookies!

And, of course, there were a few duds. Mom and I tried a recipe for “Sweet and Spicy Arugula Saute” that left our eyes watering. But my least-favorite was a dairy-free lemon cauliflower pudding. It was the most horrible thing, and I still laugh when I recall naive Krista thinking that this would somehow be good!

Outside of the kitchen, I focused on my fitness. I’m a firm believer that exercise shouldn’t be something you strongly dislike. If running isn’t your thing, for example, don’t make yourself run. Instead, do something you enjoy. And I can honestly say that I enjoyed my workouts, everything from lifting weights to riding the exercise bike to shooting baskets and incorporating some sprinting games.

Mom and I also did a lot of walking. We’d walk 2 miles from home to Lancaster Central Market, buy a bunch of produce, and carry it all home. Yes, sometimes this meant that we each were toting a melon of some sort. It was all just fun.

I didn’t set out to be a runner.

This goes back to my philosophy that people should enjoy exercise. And I did not enjoy running. At all. Whenever I saw a friend running at college, I’d be like, “Why?!” After college I watched a friend finish a half marathon and sincerely wondered what in the world would ever possess anyone to run that far. So I was strongly anti-running.

But after consistently taking walks for months, I started to think, What if I move faster? And after doing my sprinting games during my basketball workouts, I began to wonder, How many laps around this court is a mile? The answer was 20 – well, 20 laps was 1.1 miles. Before I knew it, I was starting each basketball session with 20 laps and then moving on to my regular workout. I timed myself, watching myself complete 1.1 miles in 12 minutes, then 11, then 10, then 9-something. EXCITING!

I also started running with friends here and there. I woke up early to run at the beach on vacation. Mom and I signed up for our first 5K (Sept. 17, 2011), and I won third in my age category. Inspired, I kept signing up for 5Ks.

First 5K!

After a few months of that, my friend Candace asked me if I’d be interested in running the 2012 Pittsburgh Half Marathon with her. In my head, I immediately thought, NO WAY! But then I thought about it a little more and was like, “Hey, why not?”

In a very short amount of time, I went from being appalled that anyone would want to run 13.1 miles to realizing why they do. After the Pittsburgh Half, I was hooked.

I blame Candace for getting me hooked on half marathons. Yes, definitely Candace’s fault.

I ran four half marathons before I decided to tackle an even bigger challenge, one I had promised myself I’d never do: a full marathon. (Haha, I accidentally typed “fun” instead of “full” just now. And “fun” it was NOT!) My first marathon was in 2015, and it was without a doubt the toughest thing I’ve ever done. It didn’t go as planned, but I learned a lot and returned the following year to try again, with more success.

2015 (left), where I walked a lot, vs. 2016 (right), where I ran the whole thing!

I’ve even completed a handful of obstacle races, from national ones like Warrior Dash (may it rest in peace) to local ones like the Acre Breaker. Now those actually are fun. Not fun to clean up after, but hey, cross that bridge when you come to it.

Summoning my inner Air Jordan, 2014

I love this shot of my sis and me at our first Warrior Dash! (This was the coldest late-August day EVER, I’m pretty sure.)

And, of course, there’s hiking. I’ve been on many backpacking and camping trips. I’ve hiked Pikes Peak. I’ve summited Mount Washington (twice), along with numerous other peaks in New Hampshire and the Adirondacks, as part of yearly winter mountaineering adventures. I never would have dreamed of doing these things, but the path of Operation Life led me to a place where they were and are possible.

Mountaineering crew on Franconia Ridge (I’m on the far right in the green jacket)

Ten years after Operation Life began, it’s fun to look back at it all. This is such a far cry from where the journey started! From sporadic weightlifting, basketball, and walking to half marathons, marathons, obstacle races, and mountaineering?!

All this reminiscing has challenged me too, because I’ve noticed myself coming full circle lately…and not necessarily in a good way. You see, I’m not as healthy or fit as I’d like to be at the moment. I’ve slipped into some not-so-great food habits, due to convenience or general disappointment with things, and I need to snap out of it! I’ve also scaled back on my exercise because I sometimes feel (or think I feel) too tired at the end of the workday. Sound familiar? Sounds like me a decade ago!

What better time to start getting back on track with renewed focus and intention than on the 10-year anniversary of the launch of Operation Life? Let’s do this.

I had no idea where Operation Life would take me, but I’m so grateful for this journey. And I’m so grateful for wherever it leads me next.

Basketball: I Love It, I Love It Not…

I have to admit that I have not loved and hated anything the way I love and hate basketball. Whoa, whoa, whoa – is that even possible? Isn’t that a contradiction?

You see, I’ve been a mega fan of basketball since I was a toddler. I played organized basketball from when I was 9 until I graduated from college at age 21. Then, after a few agonizing basketball-less years, I got connected as an assistant coach at my alma mater as we resurrected our high school girls’ basketball program. (The coaching staff coached both high school and middle school that first year, so I certainly made up for lost basketball time that season!)

Basketball has brought me countless joys. Doing reverse lay-ups over 6’2” opponents (on more than one occasion). Beating a division rival by holding their 6’5” center to 5 points when she was averaging nearly 20. Hitting my first three-pointer. Setting a really hard screen on a pesky opponent who was playing dirty and having her crumple to the ground. Emphatically blocking shots and hearing the whole gym go, “OHHHHHHHH!” Earning the Scrappy Award (for aggressive play) for the overall season my junior year. Collectively putting up 70 points on Senior Night. Scoring 20 points against a division rival in college. Having opponents yell, “She’s a shooter!” when I got the ball. Becoming a coach. Winning our first game. Going 12-0 in the league. Doing “basketball shot diagnostics” to improve the girls’ shooting. Watching girls grow individually as players and collectively as a team. And so I love basketball.

But it has also brought me plenty of heartaches and disappointments. Having a pretty harsh coach on my first team when I was 9. Fouling out for the first time on a bogus call in eighth grade. Losing in OT my sophomore year, when we only won three games all season. Missing the game-tying shot against a doormat team we should have throttled my senior year. Getting word that my college was going to discontinue the JV program. Deciding not to pursue varsity (I still regret this, by the way). Shooting around and having my shot be HORRIBLE. And, of course, having my competitive basketball-playing days end. Getting knocked out of playoffs – both as a player and as a coach. Seeing my girls get hurt. Seeing my girls cry – for any reason. Experiencing the end of the season. And so I hate basketball.

As I struggle with the dichotomy of longing for more and more of the sport while also being frustrated with it, I realize that I hate it because I love it. Stick with me here: Because I love it, I have pretty high standards for my interactions with it. Thus, it’s easy for me to feel disappointed with it – even disgusted by it or hateful toward it – because I often don’t/can’t achieve those standards. If I didn’t love basketball, if I didn’t have high standards for my interactions with it, then it wouldn’t disappoint me so much, meaning that I wouldn’t hate it so much. Make sense?

This week I bid adieu to my favorite sport as my eighth season of coaching – and my 21st basketball season overall – came to an end. With less than a minute left in our last game this week, I shouted (internally), “NO. I’m not ready.” But, without regard to whether I was ready or not, that buzzer sounded and I begrudgingly entered yet another offseason.

After so many seasons, I know the drill: I’ll be sad and grumpy and just generally emotionally touchy for a week or two as I readjust to life without the whirlwind of basketball practices and games. (For real, though, what in the world will I do with so much free time?)

In some ways, I suppose, some small part of me is probably a bit grateful to have an excuse to take a break from basketball now that the season’s over. But in many other ways, it’s really, really hard to let it go.

Because I hate this sport. But, man, I sure do love it.

 

Raindrops – And Half Marathons – Keep Falling On My Head

I am now a 13-time half-marathoner! Of the 13 I’ve done, only one has been run entirely in the rain: this year’s Hershey Half Marathon (Oct. 20).

I felt good going into this race. My training had been pretty solid, I’d had a good 12-miler, and I’d knocked nearly five minutes off my 6-mile times between Week 1 and Week 8 of training. Plus, last year I’d notched my best half marathon time in three years at Hershey, so I had hopes of continuing that progress.

There were two slight curveballs, though.

1. Due to construction in Hersheypark, the route was going to be slightly different than it had been in the past. That wasn’t a biggie, though. I figured the changes would be minimal – and they were, all things considered.
2. THE WEATHER. Temperatures for this race have ranged considerably over the years. I’ve worn everything from tank tops (and been too warm) to long-sleeved shirts (and been too cold). But I have never really encountered precipitation, aside from one year where it drizzled as we walked from the car to the corral. This year, though, the forecast showed rain. I wasn’t too concerned, as there had been rain in the weather report for many of my races – including my marathons – and the rain had never shown up as called for. Still, my pre-race preparations involved planning for rain, just in case. “It will be what it will be,” I thought.

The night before the race, I was in bed around 9:00. Mom was going to pick me up at 5:45 a.m., so I set my alarm for 4:30 so I could hit snooze a few times and still have plenty of time to get ready. That timing was perfect; Mom and I made it to Hershey ahead of schedule and had time to stop at the nearby McDonald’s to use the bathroom, as per tradition. (McDonald’s bathroom > portapotties at the race site)

When we got to the race site at 7:00-ish, we were directed into a parking lot that was VERY far away from the starting line. Still groggy, I was miffed because the distance was likely going to change my plan of coming back to the car to grab some layers after the race before watching Mom finish. Oh, well.

I checked my weather app yet again, and showed a 90% chance of rain throughout the morning. However, it wasn’t raining right then, so Mom and I opted not to wear our emergency ponchos to the corral. Rain or no rain, we were just going to ditch them once we started running anyway.

At 7:10, we left the car and began the trek to the starting line. Despite my misgivings about having to park so far away, it did feel nice to get our legs moving during the walk. We felt a few small raindrops, but nothing alarming.

When we reached the corral with about 10 minutes until race time, Mom pointed out an awesome rainbow behind us; it got brighter and brighter, and then we noticed that it was a full rainbow! I took a pic, which doesn’t fully do it justice:

We entered the corral, said our goodbyes to each other, and shimmied our way through the crowds to our respective starting points.

Waiting in anticipation of the start

Ready (kind of) to begin my 13th half!

This year’s race was the 10^th annual, so organizers brought back the very first Miracle Kid, Sam, to help the MC kick things off. Sam, now a healthy teenager, shared some of his story and then started the race.

The starting line approaches!

It took a few minutes for me to cross the starting line, and it was starting to drizzle at that point; I was glad, as I’d opted to wear long sleeves and the light rain helped to cool me off. I hit 1 mile in 10:10, and I felt indifferent about it. On one hand, I had wanted to start a bit faster, but on the other hand, the first mile is always packed with people. I chose not to worry about it.

What I was a bit worried about, though, was the temperature. I was feeling pretty warm and wished that I’d gone with short sleeves. But then, a half-mile later, I was cold and felt glad that I had my long sleeves. I yo-yoed like this for a while every few tenths of a mile: too warm, then too cold, then too warm, then too cold.

After that first mile, my pace quickened as the crowd thinned out, and I was averaging under 10-minute miles. Around the 3-mile mark, we entered Hersheypark through a different entrance than we usually did due to construction. This, of course, threw off all the mile markers I was used to, so I tried to reset my brain since I was so used to their previous locations.

A few little treats in Hersheypark: A song my basketball team personalized for me played on my phone as I was running past a ride where a few of them had done planks as part of a team-wide plank challenge when they visited Hersheypark in the spring; that was a pretty cool unintended touch. Also, when I was finishing my loop around the park and Mom was starting hers, we saw each other and waved excitedly! I always look for people I know when the route loops back on itself, and seeing Mom gave me a boost!

My pace felt methodical and steady as I exited Hersheypark. Next up was the hill near the elk exhibit at ZooAmerica, and the scents did not disappoint. I was also aware this year, thanks to a recent visit to ZooAmerica with my dad, that I might be able to see the mountain lion! I looked for him, but I didn’t see him.

The rain was still coming down, and, although I still felt fine, I wondered if I’d end up feeling a bit chilly if it didn’t let up. (Spoiler alert: The answer, as it turned out, was YES.)

By the time I hit 5 miles, I was back to averaging 10-minute miles. I’d hoped to be going faster, but I told myself it was fine. I had to watch my footing because things were slick due to the rain, and I didn’t feel like I had as much pep as I’d hoped. I popped a Shot Blok on the way up the hill to mile 6, just in time for the water stop there. That hill gets me every time. Only the first part of it is visible, so it looks deceptively not as bad as it actually is. Then it levels out…and keeps going up. I lost a bit of time on it, as I always do, but I finally crested the hill and eventually made it to the halfway point in 1:05:31. If I somehow managed negative splits for the first time in my life, I’d have a chance to better last year’s time. It didn’t seem promising, though.

The rain was unrelenting and cold, and I was starting to struggle a bit. By the time we left the main road and started running toward the Milton Hershey School (MHS) campus, my struggles were even more pronounced. It didn’t help that my music decided to spaz. One song finished playing, and then it started again. “Weird, maybe I put it on here twice,” I thought. But then the song just stopped for a few seconds; when the music started again, it had rewound to the song that had played more than a mile ago. Then it stopped again and didn’t restart. I pulled my phone out of my SPIbelt and clicked the home button, which allowed the phone to tell me that it was disabled for some unknown reason and I’d be able to try again in one minute. So that’s what I did…and it worked fine the rest of the race (unlike my body, but hey). Technology is weird sometimes.

The struggles continued on the MHS campus, where the next 3 miles were laid out. I remember seeing the 8-mile banner way up ahead and thinking, “How are we not at mile 8 yet?” My pace continued to slow, even though the energy of the MHS kids raised my spirits.

OK, side note: It was cold and rainy and miserable outside, in case I haven’t emphasized that enough. But there were SO MANY kids from MHS lining the roads, cheering us on, holding signs, and giving high fives. Maybe they were as miserable on the inside as I was showing on the outside, but they never showed it. Way to go, kids!

At long last, I reached the 10-mile mark. I felt like I was barely moving, and I even muttered to myself out loud, “Why is this so hard today?”

Even though my body felt weak in some vague way that I wasn’t able to pinpoint, the struggle was more of a mental one as the miles went on. I became more and more aware of just how sopping wet I was from the rain. The rain mingled with sweat and dripped into my eyes, burning them. Oh, and my feet were super soggy. And, despite being in constant motion, I was cold. “I’m tired of being wet! I’m tired of being cold! I’m tired of doing this!” I mourned internally somewhere between miles 9 and 11. Of course, the only way to solve those issues was to keep running and finish the race – and then change into something dry.

The hill that leads out of the MHS campus and into downtown Hershey at mile 11 gets me every year. I felt like I kept a decent-for-me-at-that-moment pace this year, though, and recovered fairly well at the top. Next up was one of my favorite parts: the Chocolate Aid Station. Some years I predetermine how many pieces I’m going to take; this year I just decided to wing it. I ended up with four, which I stuffed into my SPIbelt. That caused the belt to fit uncomfortably, so after fiddling with it for a few tenths of a mile, I put two of the chocolates in the pocket in my pants. That fixed the issue, so I continued on.

Not surprisingly, the Miracle Mile (where kids receiving treatment at Penn State Hershey Children’s Hospital and their families cheer runners on) was sparsely populated due to the weather, but even just running along that section inspired me.

Still, my mind was on the nasty, winding hill that was coming up just after mile 12. In a twist for which I am most grateful, though, the course skipped that hill this year! Due to the construction at Hersheypark early in the race, the course had to be adjusted toward the end, so we were rerouted. No complaints from this tired, grumpy, drenched runner!

With less than a mile to go, I knew that the rest of the way would be primarily flat. There weren’t a lot of runners in the little cluster where I was at the moment, so I didn’t have a whole lot of help with my pacing – as if it even mattered at that point. Running along the pre-homestretch, which is a corridor lined with a white fence, I could hear runners who were already finished cheering us on. “Ha,” remarked one guy running near me. “Easy for them to be so optimistic. They’re done already!” True, true.

But at that point, grumpy and soaked as I was, I knew I was going to make it. After the corridor (where I missed Dad cheering us on, even though I was glad he hadn’t come along since he’d have had a miserable time spectating in the weather), all I had to do was run alongside the outer wall of the stadium, enter the stadium, and run about halfway around the track to the finish line. I paced myself accordingly.

As I was about to enter the stadium, a volunteer shouted, “You’re almost there!” Based on previous years, I knew I still had to run halfway around the track, but that would be a piece of cake at that point.

But – SURPRISE – as I rounded the corner into the stadium, the finish line was RIGHT THERE, not halfway around the track. I wish there was a video of me at that moment because I was absolutely shocked and confused. I did a textbook double-take, my head jerked backward in surprise, and my eyes bulged before my legs caught on and started churning faster. I was a bit miffed because if I’d known the finish line was going to be so close, I would have paced differently for the last little bit. But oh, well.

Arms moving, legs moving, and a horrible grimace on my face, I reached the finish line in 2:16:12.

Not my official time, but close enough. Groan…

It was not at all the result I’d trained for, so I definitely wasn’t elated. But I wasn’t too bummed, either, considering that I’d raced in epic conditions.

Once I crossed the finish line, I received my medal – a special 10^th anniversary Hershey kiss shape – and grabbed the post-race goodies.

What finishing the race should have felt like…

…and what it actually felt like.

Moving as quickly as possible, I looped back around to the finish line to cheer Mom on.

I soon got pretty cold and wrapped in the foil blanket they gave us – once my cold, stiff fingers were able to remove it from its packaging. I jogged in place to warm up. After a little while, I saw Mom rounding the bend to enter the stadium. Knowing that she was expecting the finish line to be in its usual place, I started jumping up and down and shouting, “IT’S RIGHT THERE! IT’S RIGHT THERE!” while pointing. She got the idea and started booking it, finishing with a nice, strong pace!

I think she was ready to be done, too!

Go, Mom! Go!

We hugged, briefly shared what a struggle the race had been, and got a few pictures:

Glad to be done…

…and so, so chilled. But we did it!

Still enough energy for my traditional post-race jump, though

We were both tired of being cold and wet, so we walked the whole way back to the car to get our stuff. We were able to change in a nice, empty bathroom in the parking lot, which was PERFECT. And warm.

Dry and relatively warmed up, we hit Chocolate World and bought some cookies using a coupon we’d received in our packets, along with some delicious hot chocolate.

Then we headed toward home, Mom a nine-time half-marathoner and yours truly a 13-time half-marathoner.

Rocking our new race shirts!

Check out this incredible, witty sign my dad made us!

Maybe I didn’t get the results I wanted, but I can still bask – and am still basking – in the accomplishment that it is to run 13.1 miles 13 times and cross 13 finish lines. Until next time, Hershey!

Looking Back and Looking Ahead

Once upon a time, I blogged regularly. But that was back when I had consistent access to WiFi, which made it easy to flip open my laptop and write a blog update. Now that’s not the case, so I’m using my phone to post this.

Let me quickly catch you up on my (running) life: Since I last blogged about running races (last fall, I believe), I have run three half marathons: the 2018 Hershey Half Marathon, the 2019 Turkey Hill Country Classic Half Marathon, and the 2019 Bay of Fundy International Half Marathon. In theory, I’ll blog about each of those in the near future, because they were all epic in their own ways! (I also ran a few shorter races.)

Now I’m looking ahead to tomorrow, when I will run my 13^th half marathon – the Hershey Half Marathon. It’s crazy to think I’ve done this many! I’m not a natural distance runner, I’m not especially fast (at all), and I don’t always enjoy running – but I do have this crazy drive to do things that challenge me. And in doing those things, I feel an unparalleled sense of accomplishment.

Before officially looking ahead to tomorrow’s race, though, I have to look back at where I came from, particularly, at the nine weeks of training I just completed. There were lots of ups and downs – and I don’t just mean the terrain. I had bad times and better times, I had runs that felt great and runs that made me want to throw my sneakers away, and I had laughs and frustrations.

So look back with me at some stats and experiences from training, and then look ahead with me to tomorrow.

LOOKING BACK

Training dates: 8/19-10/19

Total miles: 134

Number of times running the King Street Nightmare (a nasty half-mile hill): 21

Number of two-a-days: 3

Best moment of training: I’m not sure if this is my overall best moment, but it’s always a great feeling to wrap up that final training run. So I’ll go with my last training run – 2 miles of light hill repeats.

Worst moment of training: My 11-miler was ghastly. I mean, it was really, really horrible. The route itself wasn’t bad until the last mile or so, but I just didn’t bring my A game (or my B game or my C game) that morning, so I rode the struggle bus the entire time.

Biggest general struggle: Getting up early to run on weekdays. I run better in the morning than I do in the afternoon/evening, but lately I haven’t been sleeping super well, which made it SO HARD to wake up early to run.

Most rewarding moment: Finishing the 12-miler, definitely. Training-wise, that’s the culmination. That’s the biggest run. After that point, all that’s left to do is log some increasingly easy miles as you taper for the race. (Also, considering that Mom and I chose a very tough route for our 12 – one we’ve avoided for a few years – it was even more rewarding to complete the 12 miles.)

“I can’t believe this” moment: One morning I was running hills (up and down the same hill a number of times), and there was a dead possum right in the middle of the narrow sidewalk where I was running. Because of traffic, I couldn’t really go around it, so my hill sprints that morning involved jumping over roadkill multiple times while holding my breath.

Pseudo-hardcore runner moment: For one of my two-a-days, I did back-to-back runs before work. As in, I got up early, did my hill sprints, and then jumped in the car and drove straight to the track to do my speed work. Then I showered and went to work. That sounds impressive – until you realize that I only had to do that because I had majorly slacked off earlier in the week and that morning was my only opportunity to do those runs. But still, I sacrificed in order to get them done despite my previous slacking off, so maybe I am a hardcore runner after all?

Worst decision: On Labor Day I ate a bag of popcorn and decided shortly after to go for a run. It wasn’t my worst idea ever, but it was far from my best. Moving on now…

Favorite cross-training: Definitely the youth group backpacking trip to Dolly Sods in West Virginia! Technically this took the place of my 10-mile training run because it was held on the weekend I was supposed to do that. I’m not sure how far we backpacked, but I wrote down 14 miles in my training log because of what I was told about the length of the trail plus extra excursions I took to a rock ledge called Lion’s Head.

Tastiest post-run treat: Getting Mr. Sticky’s sticky buns after our 8-miler was pretty great! Honorable mentions were the smoothies we got at Central Market after our last “long” run of 6 miles and the subs from Forry’s, which fortified us after our 12-miler.

LOOKING AHEAD

Looking forward to: Getting started, running through Hersheypark, all the crowd support, the Chocolate Aid Station, the Miracle Mile, and, of course, entering the stadium and crossing that finish line!

Dreading: The hill around mile 12. And the hill just after mile 11 as we leave the Milton Hershey School campus. Oh yeah, and the hill leading up to mile 6. Are you detecting a theme here?

Favorite pre-race tradition: Mom and I always go on the ride at Chocolate World when we pick up our race packets the day before. We did that today, and the mysterious basketball net under the one platform was back! (I always look for it, but I hadn’t seen it for a few years, so I was very excited to see it again today! Where does it come from? And why is it there? Nobody knows…)

Expectations: My training times have been all over the place, so I’m not expecting greatness. What I am expecting, though, is to be as great as I can possibly be on race day. I mean, I have to make my sponsors proud! (Just kidding. What sponsors?)

So here’s to another race! Now to carb up, do some remaining preparatory things, and get some sleep!

But first, a few of my favorite pictures from training:

Glad to be done with a sticky and gross 6-miler, Week 1

Speed work in a downpour, Week 3

Got to enjoy a bit of a sunrise during my 8-miler, Week 3

Some of the crew from my backpacking trip (cross-training), Week 5

Watching the sunrise from Lion’s Head, backpacking trip (cross-training), Week 5

Remember how I said my 11-miler was bad? Well, this little friend assessed my pace and agreed! Fun times with that long run, Week 6

Some scenic farmland during my 12-miler, Week 7

Mom finishing her 12-mile run strong, Week 7

Glad my speed work didn’t involve this particular challenge, Week 8

The sky and my surroundings at the end of my final training run (2 miles of hill repeats), Week 9

Celebrating the Hershey Half’s milestone at the expo today!

I love my mom!

 

Pushing Through the Pain

Someone recently asked me how I’m able to continue a run when it hurts and my body is tired. I thought, then replied, “I push through because I know I can.”

I ran 12 miles this morning, my last long run before my next half marathon. It hurt. I was tired. I wanted to quit. But I didn’t, because I knew that, despite the pain, I could overcome.

In running, just like in life, there’s pain. There’s unpleasantness. There’s confusion (“Why am I doing this again?!”). But you learn to keep putting one foot in front of the other, making progress, no matter how slowly.

Three years ago today, I received absolutely devastating news. It crushed me beyond what I thought was possible. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how I could go on. But I did. Somehow, I put one figurative foot in front of the other, begging God for help the whole way.

And here I am, three years later, still doing that. No, the situation hasn’t improved, and, to be honest, I’m still devastated. 

But in life, just like in running, you learn to overcome despite the pain. And you learn to push through – with God – because you know you can.

One More Dawn, One More Day…

…one day more!

(Thanks to “Les Miserables” for the inspiration for this blog title and opening line. Now, readers, go watch this and then come back and read my blog).

I have one more day, as the title implies, until a major athletic event!

Tomorrow I’ll be tackling my 10th half marathon! TEN. When my friend Candace nudged me in the direction of my first half marathon in 2012, I had no idea that I’d keep running them, let alone that I’d ever make it to double digits. Sometimes I love the whole experience of training for and racing them and sometimes I don’t, but there’s something about it that keeps me coming back. It truly boggles the mind.

While tomorrow’s race will be my 10th half marathon, it will also be my sixth Hershey Half Marathon. I enjoy this run a lot (at least, the first 9 or 10 miles of it, usually – after that things tend to get real and I’m ready to be done!), and I know what to expect. Of course, I’m not anticipating that it will be easy or particularly fast, since I’m not in the same running shape I was in a few years back. In fact, I wasn’t exactly in fantastic running shape when I started training nine weeks ago, so I was basically getting in shape while doing my training runs. That’s not exactly a recipe for running success, but I have seen improvement, so it’s all good!

Now for a quick overview of my training (all the quick facts/trivia you ever wanted – or didn’t want – to know):

Length of training: Nine weeks, starting Aug. 20

Total miles run: 131.25, an average of 14.6 per week (which is about 13.6 more per week than I was averaging before I started training for this race, haha)

Number of times I reached my target weekly mileage: Three. Yes, three weeks out of nine. Six weeks I skipped runs or shortened runs and totaled less mileage than my training program called for. I kind of did that on purpose, though, considering that I wasn’t in the best running shape and didn’t want to wear myself out.

Best progress: This is a tough one, but I’ll narrow it down to two:
-I ran my last 6-mile run (Week 9) a minute per mile faster than I ran my first 6-mile run (Week 1)!
-I knocked 37 seconds off my 1.5-mile speed work time between when I did that distance in Week 3 and when I did it in Week 9!

Highlight: Aside from the moments of progress mentioned above, I’d have to say my 12-mile run (it was actually 12.1, FYI). It just felt really good, and, while I wasn’t fast per se, I did pace better than I had during most of my previous long runs.

Lowlight: Thanks to a series of strange and imperfectly timed events, I completely skipped my 10-mile run. Looking back, of course, I can see how I could have planned things better during the week leading up to the 10-miler so that when these unexpected things all happened, I would have been better able to navigate around them. But sometimes you simply don’t know what you don’t know, and I didn’t know. And now you know that I didn’t know, and I know that you know that I didn’t know, and…OK, that’s enough.

Goals for tomorrow, based on my training: Ideally, I’d love to beat my time from Pittsburgh in the spring. Plan B would be to beat either or both of my times from Hershey in 2016 and 2017. Other than that, I want to run a good race based on the effort I’ve put in, where my body is these days, what the weather is like tomorrow, etc.; whatever that looks like on my watch, I hope it’s a good showing for my 10th half marathon!

Now, for a quick look back through training:

My Week 1 long run (6.2 miles) doubled as a virtual 10K for Ryan’s Birthday Party Foundation to help kids with cancer smile!

Some foggy speed work (Week 3)

An unfair advantage to the runner using this lane to practice hurdles (spotted during speed work, Week 4)

Me, after a 9-mile run (Week 4) that I’d intentionally planned to be the hilliest, most challenging route I could find: “What was I thinking?!”

When a bunch of bugs met their doom on my forehead during a 5-miler (Week 6)

A beautiful morning for speed work (Week 6)

I was happy to be done with my 11 miles (Week 6), and Mom was happy to be done with her 6!

Thumbs up for improved times while doing speed work (Week 7)!

When you have to stop in a grocery store unexpectedly after your 12.1-mile run and you feel really bad because unsuspecting shoppers won’t realize just how sweaty and gross you are until it’s too late… (Week 7)

Final long run (6 miles) at a greatly improved pace (Week 8)!

Running through a haze caused by some sort of farm equipment during a 4-miler (Week 9)

Finished my last training run (2 miles of light hill training) after dark (Week 9)

Now for a bit of fun from the expo and Chocolate World today:

One of my many fans! 😉  (Side note: Not only do I struggle to put my race bib on straight, but I also struggle to even hold it straight in pictures, apparently…)

It’s tradition for us each to enjoy a cookie from Chocolate World when we visit the expo. YUM.

Only one box on the training program remains to be checked off: race day!

Next stop: the finish line of my 10th half marathon!

Half Marathon #9: The Return to Pittsburgh

A handful of years ago, my friend Candace asked if I’d be interested in signing up for the Pittsburgh Half Marathon. My initial gut reaction was something like “AIEEEEEE!! NOOOO!” But soon the shock of the invitation gave way to a feeling of excitement. Could I do something so intense? And so I signed up. And I ran. That first half marathon, on May 6, 2012, to be precise, got me hooked.

Exactly six years later, I returned to Pittsburgh to run my ninth half marathon on May 6, 2018. It was like I had come full circle, except that I’m not stopping!

Mom and I had signed up for this half marathon last summer, and I felt like my training had gone better than it had the last few times I’d prepared for half marathons. That said, I didn’t know quite what to expect from myself during the race. I’d run the Pittsburgh Half twice before, and I’d logged times of 2:13:23 (my first half in 2012) and 2:43:something (when I paced Mom in her first half and my second in 2013). So, after taking everything (the course, my training, my general fitness level, etc.) into consideration, I set one goal: a course PR.

We’re back, Pittsburgh!

When we made it to the expo (after a lovely drive out to Pittsburgh during which we listened to the “Les Miz” soundtrack), we picked up our race packets and I saw I’d been assigned to Corral B. As in, the second one to start. Usually I’m in Corral C or D in Pittsburgh, so I was a little worried I wouldn’t even have a chance to get my course PR because I’d be trampled by faster people as soon as the gun sounded. Instead of asking at the expo which pace groups were in which corrals, I decided I’d figure it out on race morning. If I had it to do over again, though, I would have asked at the expo, just so I’d avoid the stress on race morning. But oh well!

Mom’s message (center, left) and mine (center, right)

Finding our names on the wall

The large 13.1 prop kind of blends in…

…but we love it nonetheless!

Another curveball was the weather. I’d obsessively checked it in the days leading up to the race, and it looked like it would cooperate. But as Mom and I were doing a bit of carb-loading in our hotel the evening before the race, I checked the weather again and saw a 90% chance of rain spanning ALL of race morning. Ugh!

We were a bit bummed, but we decided that if that was the way it was going to be, we needed to be prepared. Knowing that we’d be spending maybe 45 minutes waiting in our corral before running, we knew we’d need some sort of layer to protect us against the precipitation. So it was off to a nearby dollar store to buy ponchos.

Back at the hotel with ponchos in hand, we strategized (outfits and timing), prepared for the next day, and went to bed, with alarms set for 5 a.m.

I was hungry when I woke up, so I ate part of a bagel, half of a banana, and most of a Clif bar as I got ready for the race. I didn’t really want to eat more than that because I didn’t want to put myself in a tough spot bathroom-wise during the race (TMI, but it’s true!).

The forecast still showed rain, but it looked like it wouldn’t hit until after the race started. We figured we’d be safe without ponchos, I opted not to wear a hat or visor, and Mom decided to wear her sunglasses. Essentially, we chose to move forward hoping for little to no rain.

We left our hotel at 6:20 or so to walk to the corrals. Even without directions, we had no problem finding them; all we had to do was follow the teeming masses.

Kind of a test shot to see how pics would look when taken by a mobile device in a Ziploc bag (to protect it from the potential elements)

Ready to tackle the Steel City by foot!

Mom dropped me off at Corral B, where I tried (in vain) to find out what the pace range was. None of the volunteers, security personnel, or other runners seemed to know. So I made a judgment call based on the appearances of some of the other Corral B runners (so bad, I know!) and figured I’d be OK there. (I did ask one more volunteer, who told me I could go to the starting line to find out. Ain’t nobody got time for that, so I was like, “Oh, OK…I’ll be fine, I think” and entered Corral B officially.)

All 40,000 runners fell silent during the national anthem, after which the first groups (USATF Half Marathon Championships got underway, wheelchair division, and Corral A) had their staggered starts. One exciting part about being in Corral B was that I could see the starting line the whole time I was waiting; sometimes in Corrals C to E the starting line is out of view.

With Corral A out of the way, my corral started to move up. I queued up my music, shoved my iPod into a plastic bag (you know, to keep it safe from the rain, which hadn’t started yet) and put it in my SPIbelt, and did some last-minute movements to warm up.

Preparing for my ninth half marathon to start!

The starting line got closer and closer and closer and…

After a bit of amping-up from the announcer dude, I crossed the starting line and my ninth half marathon was underway. I felt a bit emotional to start – why is that? I also felt a bit hungry, which wasn’t ideal, but there was nothing I could do about it at that point.

Things were pretty crowded for the first mile. I’ve learned that it doesn’t pay to excessively weave my way around people – I expend too much energy and it doesn’t really help me in the long run (haha, pun intended) – so instead I wait more patiently for lanes to open up. My first mile was in 9:47, which was about what I was aiming for as I got warmed up.

As the cluster of Corral B runners started to thin out over the next few miles, I settled into a slightly faster pace and was averaging about 9:30/mile, which felt perfect for me that day. We crossed our first bridge around mile 3 and benefited from some loud and encouraging cheering sessions along the way.

The course had been changed last year, so instead of hitting two bridges around mile 4, we ran around a neighborhood and took a route right by the Pittsburgh athletic complexes. I’d preplanned to get some pictures of Heinz Field as I ran by, but as I approached this stretch, I didn’t know if I felt like messing with my SPIbelt. But I had to mess with it anyway so I could take a Shot Blok before the water station around mile 6, so I decided to try some pictures.

For some reason, the iPod-in-a-Ziploc-bag method didn’t work that well for taking pictures (it had worked flawlessly during my marathon two years ago), so my Heinz Field pics were a bit blurry.

Blurry Heinz Field!

Blurry Heinz Field! It does really look like we were running in epic weather conditions, though…

With Heinz Field behind me, I knew I had to get a selfie. (I love my Steelers, even though they let me down a lot of times!) A blurry picture would not suffice, so I removed the iPod from the Ziploc bag, snapped an awkward selfie (sorry, dude behind me!), and put everything back in my SPIbelt, where it stayed until I’d crossed the finish line.

HEINZ FIELD! (Sorry, runner dude in yellow…)

A curious thing happened to me around the time I was crossing the West End Bridge (between miles 6 and 7): I hit a wall, and I had no energy. Remember how I had been hungry when I started the race? Yeah, looking back, I realize that I was incredibly underfueled.

My pace – which wasn’t that fast to begin with – began to slip, as did my attitude (just a bit, though). I ran through the West End and enjoyed the live bands playing the Rocky theme and other songs. Strangely, the one lead singer started the Philadelphia Eagles chant: “E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!” and I thought that was odd…wrong city and wrong team, dude! If I’d been less tired, I would have made a humorous comment. But I was pretty gassed at that point, and I thought maybe I could work myself out of whatever running funk I was in. But after a mile or so, it became clear that I just didn’t have a whole lot left in the tank because there hadn’t been much in there to begin with.

“OK,” I told myself. “This is going to hurt the rest of the way, but you’re going to do it.” That’s the thing about having a few half marathons under my (SPI)belt: Even though I had somehow messed up my fueling, I knew that no matter how uncomfortable/tired/miserable I got, I had the ability to press on.

The stretch from the West End to the Birmingham Bridge always seems longer than I think it is. And it’s also not as flat as I think it is. Feeling entirely sapped of energy, I really just plodded along. I was still on pace to get a course PR, but those chances grew slimmer and slimmer with each passing mile as I got slower and slower and lost the time cushion I’d built up.

Let me tell you, I felt so tired! As in, I probably could have curled up on the side of the road and taken a nap. There were times that nobody would be in front of me and I’d just close my eyes and run. (I never did that for very long, just long enough to hopefully trick myself into thinking I’d had some sleep.) It was so strange.

Still with a Shot Blok in my mouth, I grabbed some Gatorade and then some water at the fuel station between miles 8 and 9, hoping that would give me a boost. It did, but it was pretty temporary, and soon I was back to slogging through the streets of Pittsburgh with zero energy.

I watched my “time bank” slowly dissipate, and I desperately clung to the ever-dwindling lead I had over my PR pace. “Just…get…a…course…PR!” I begged myself.

Mile 10 to 11 is considered the flattest mile of the course, and while some people rejoice over flat terrain, I generally do not. I’ve found that I run better on rolling courses, so I was less than thrilled by all the signs boasting this mile as the flattest. My time slipped even more to the point that I was slower than course PR pace. I was pretty bummed, but I was so dead tired at that point that I just wanted to get to the finish line.

Just before mile 11, the half marathon and marathon courses split off. Going into the race, I’d wondered if I’d feel any sort of nostalgia or even find myself wishing that I was doing the marathon course instead. But by the time I got to the split, I felt none of that – I only felt relief that I was not doing the full marathon and that I only had two-ish miles to go.

The mile 11 mark is on the Birmingham Bridge. This bridge includes a gradual uphill that feels incredibly long at this point in the race. I found that putting my head down and NOT looking at the road ahead helped me to run more quickly, so I did that on my way up the bridge.

Some sage advice is to run the mile you’re in – meaning that you focus on where you are and don’t give too much mental space to what’s coming up. That was tough as I ran over that bridge, because I knew there would be a nice hill just before mile 12 and my mind kept gravitating to how I would survive that.

Thankfully, the course had been altered, so that nice hill wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. I took it slow (that’s generous phrasing, because I felt slower than slow), crested the hill, and enjoyed a quality downhill, during which I hit mile 12.

Only 1.1 to go until the finish line! I wasn’t sure where I stood PR-wise, but I knew it would be very close, one way or another. I dug deep. I wouldn’t say I embraced the pain, but I realized it was necessary for me to achieve what I’d wanted to achieve.

As I re-entered the downtown area, I tried to picture the course map in my mind and determine how long I had to go. The downtown tends to be misleading, because simply the fact that you’re there makes you think you’re almost done. In reality, though, you could have anywhere from a half-mile to a full mile left. I crossed some sort of timing mat, which I knew meant I was at about mile 12.5 and only had approximately .6 miles left.

Maybe, I thought, maybe I can get my course PR. I quickened my pace, but the course kept winding endlessly through the downtown. I’m pretty glad there are no photos of me from this particular section. I’m sure I looked…umm…memorable.

At long last, I saw a right-hand turn up ahead, and I knew the finish line would be shortly after that. Thankfully, this entire homestretch was on a gradual downhill (I LOVE YOU, PITTSBURGH HALF MARATHON ORGANIZERS!), because I kind of felt like I was going to pass out.

The last few times I’ve run Pittsburgh, I’ve run the marathon, and – let’s face it – the course was sparsely populated by the time I neared the finish. So I was surprised that things were so packed when I approached the finish line of the half! I weaved around a few people and gave one last burst of energy (which I think might have been the very last drop I had in me at all) and crossed the mat.

Official time was 2:12:49. I had nabbed a course PR by 24 seconds! YES. While this was far from my fastest time ever, it was my fastest in about two years, so I’m heading in the right direction.

Wiped out yet happy

Immediately after I crossed the finish line, I wanted to sit down. I had nothing left at all (remember to fuel properly before a race, kids!), and I was kind of stumbling around. The problem was that anyone who sat down in the finish line chute would be escorted to the medical tent and not allowed to leave until they were cleared. I didn’t want to miss Mom at the finish line, so I just walked slowly and gathered my post-race snacks. After I ate a few things, I felt better…

…better enough to loop back around to the homestretch to watch my mom finish the race! OK, so this was an ordeal. I’m not going to go into all of it, but let’s just say it’s not easy to do that. I probably added another mile or so onto my legs just trying to find my way back around. It’s a good thing I hustled (and asked directions multiple times), because I barely got to my position with the other spectators along the course when Mom came hustling along!

I screamed and cheered, and she waved (happy to see me, I hope) and gave her final push to the finish line of her seventh half marathon.

GO, MOM!!

We finally met up at the celebration area, and Mom shared that she’d struggled through the last few miles due to a flare-up of some pain. I’m beyond proud of her for persevering, even when the race wasn’t going according to plan. You go, Mom! I love you!

Two tired Runners of Steel

Victorious!

Apparently I’d started getting my energy back.

We hobbled back to the hotel, cleaned up, dipped our feet in the hot tub, and soon were on the road – at which point it FINALLY started to rain substantially! Yes, that’s right – with a 90% chance of rain all morning, it only sprinkled very lightly at times and didn’t actually rain until we were out of Pittsburgh. How cool is that?

The journey home was filled with stories, pros/cons, laughs, tears, more “Les Miz,” Eat’n Park Smiley cookies (from our post-race refreshments), food from a rest stop (when we FINALLY got to one due to traffic – I thought my stomach was going to eat itself), massage chairs (we used them at two different rest stops, and sometimes other Pittsburgh runners joined us!), and milkshakes.

Smiley cookies, massage chairs, and milkshakes – what better way(s) to celebrate running a half marathon?

We returned home tired and happy with our race medals in hand – Mom’s seventh half marathon medal and my ninth.

When I signed up for my first half marathon in 2012, I had no idea that it would open the doors to a number of other limits-pushing, boundary-crushing running adventures. So take that first step. You never know where it may lead you!

Recap on a Runniversary: 2016 Pittsburgh Marathon

Two years ago today I completed my second marathon! Woohoo! This anniversary – coupled with the fact that I’ll be running the Pittsburgh Half Marathon this Sunday – reminded me that I never did an actual recap of the race. Hey, better late than never, right? (I had bestowed Hurley Awards for that race, but that post wasn’t an official recap. Hurley Awards are given to people, experiences, elements, etc., that I notice during a race but that may otherwise go unrecognized.)

In order to recap my experience at the 2016 Pittsburgh Marathon, we first have to back up to May 3, 2015, the date of my first marathon (also Pittsburgh). It was an extremely hot day, and I didn’t have a very good race and I walked a lot (you can read about it here and here if you’d like). So to get the monkey off my back, I signed up for that race in 2016, which would be on May 1. I’d have no goals other than wanting to run the whole thing.

Now fast-forward from 2015 to Friday, April 29, 2016. I was packing to leave for Pittsburgh the next day…and I was FREAKING OUT. Rain was in the forecast for Sunday’s race. I started panicking about everything (and I mean EVERYTHING): What was I going to wear if the weather was bad? How would I keep the essentials (electronics and shoes, mainly) dry? What if the race got canceled? And what if I failed again? What if I couldn’t do it? I kept trying to pack, but I ended up straight-up crying each time, caving under the pressure I’d put on myself to do this marathon successfully. So I called my mom, who was going to be going along to cheer me on, and whined to her. She got me to calm down, but the doubts remained.

It’s funny: I wasn’t nervous for my first marathon, but (in case it wasn’t obvious above) I was for my second. Before my first one, I didn’t know that it was possible not to meet my goals. For my second, I was keenly aware that it was possible. And so I was nervous.

But I was also smarter, having learned from the previous year’s mistakes. When Mom and I arrived in Pittsburgh (after a great trip where we kept the mood light), we went right to the expo, just like the previous year. But unlike that year, we didn’t spend as much time there. I got my race packet and looked at the Wall of Names and the official race gear, and we got out of there.

My identity for the next morning’s race

Me with my biggest on-site cheerleader

Walking across a fake bridge the day before running across five real ones

Locating myself on the Wall of Names

Race gear in tow, we headed to our hotel. We made it a low-key night (another change from the previous year) by packing dinner and not doing more walking than was absolutely necessary. Mom went out for a 6-mile run, her last long run before she ran a half marathon the following weekend. I obsessively checked the weather for race day, which seemed to be improving.

I hit the hay early and set my alarm for early (probably around 4:30 a.m., although I don’t remember). When that horrible alarm sounded, I started getting myself prepared for the day. I ate breakfast (toast with a light spread of peanut butter, along with a banana) and packed all my stuff, as Mom would have to come back to check us out of the hotel before I was done with the race. The latest forecast made it look like the weather was going to hold, so I got all decked out in the race outfit I’d originally planned to wear. I put my iPod in a resealable bag in my SPIbelt, just to safeguard it from any rain or fire hydrants/squirt guns I’d encounter along the way.

Still mentally asleep but trying to do breakfast

Ready to go!

As Mom and I walked to my corral, it felt good to stretch my legs and get them warmed up for what they were going to experience over the next few hours. I’d been texting my college friend Nicole, who was doing the relay and was going to be in the same corral as I was. She told me where she and her team were in the corral, so I said goodbye to Mom, left my phone with her (so I wouldn’t be too encumbered), and entered the corral. I tried looking for Nicole but couldn’t find her; I have no idea what would have happened, but I suspect there were two separate parts of our corral, and we were not in the same one.

Before I left Mom to enter my corral

Standing in the corral, I tried to keep calm, but my brain was going haywire. It didn’t help that at that point it started to rain – more than just a drizzle. I questioned my wardrobe choice, but at that point there was absolutely nothing I could do other than try to keep warm. Thankfully, the hard rain didn’t last long and was replaced by more of a drizzle.

I started to queue my music up, only to have my iPod tell me that I had to connect to WiFi to access my music. After being momentarily unsettled, I messed with the device a bit and found a version of the playlist I could actually access sans WiFi. I was saved!

Soon, my corralmates and I started shuffling forward toward the starting line. The previous year I had felt so ready for this moment, but this year I felt so unsure. The sight of the starting line ahead gave me a jolt of something – adrenaline, maybe – and I told myself that I was going to do this (most likely).

Ready, probably!

As we waited to start, the announcer got us hyped. Soon, our corral was unleashed into the streets of Pittsburgh, and I started my watch as I crossed the line.

The starting line, pre-runners

Running is strangely emotional. I spent the first few minutes of the marathon choking back tears, a mix of trepidation, nostalgia, and that old “I can’t believe I’m able to do this” emotion. The logical part of my brain told the emotional part to shape up; there was no use spending energy on such nonsense when I had a marathon to run. So the tears stopped, and my feet got moving.

No matter what, I wanted to run the whole 26.2 miles, so I didn’t have a set pace other than the vague “not too fast.” In fact, I congratulated myself with each passing mile for how slowly and methodically I was running. After a few miles, the rain stopped, and, other than one or two light sprinkles over the next few hours, the race was without precipitation.

I knew I’d be seeing Mom around miles 4, 14, and 19 and at the finish line, of course. About 44 minutes into my run (I told you I was taking things methodically), I was crossing the bridge around mile 4. Although I was running well and feeling good, seeing Mom gave me a boost, and I tried to carry that boost with me until I saw her again at mile 14.

About to wave at Mom (and from the look of things, the girl in the blue jacket appreciated Mom’s enthusiasm too!)

For the next 8 miles or so, I just enjoyed Pittsburgh. Bands played along the course and kept us moving. The neighborhoods were out in full force, cheering us on and just being energetic. As early as mile 5, I started seeing handmade signs about the neighborhood Homewood – “Only 12 miles to Homewood!” and “Homewood is only 9 miles away!” The West End is always fun as well; we ran through this around mile 6 or 7, right after crossing the West End Bridge, which offers spectacular views of Pittsburgh.

My enjoyment of the city stopped – or paused, rather – right around mile 11-point-something, when I was crossing the Birmingham Bridge. I knew that a familiar nemesis was waiting on the other side: THE HILL. See, after this bridge, half marathoners split to the left and marathoners go off to the right, where a long, gradual, increasingly steep hill awaits. Half marathoners have an awful hill of their own to deal with after the split, but at least they’re almost done with the race. At the top of the marathoners’ hill is the mile 12 mark, after which they still have 14.2 miles to go.

At the marathon/half marathon split (this was taken later…)

I gritted my teeth and plodded to the top of the hill, trying to be encouraged by and not annoyed with the employees from a local running store who were jogging up and down the hill to offer words of support. But I made it, and soon(ish) I crossed the timing mat at 13.1 miles.

Splits:
10K – 1:08:32, 11:02/mile
13.1 – 2:26:26, 11:11/mile

It always blows my mind to have completed a half marathon and still have an entire half marathon to go. (Yeah, I know, that’s how math works – a half and a half equaling a whole – but seeing that in practice in a marathon is just really something to wrap my mind around.)

Shadyside was the next neighborhood at mile 14, and I was so happy to see Mom.

I don’t look happy, but I think that’s because I hadn’t noticed Mom yet.

Theeeeeere we go! (Do I look like I’m having fun? Good.)

She even popped out on the course and ran with me for a very short bit (I think to get the above picture?). This moment was captured by Creeper Duck and one of his accomplices:

I love this picture because it shows how incredible and supportive my mom is!

And, of course, I enjoyed the Steelers-themed drumming group in Shadyside:

Here We Go, Steelers!

At approximately mile 15.5, I ran past the intersection where I’d stopped the previous year to stretch and then to walk. I felt so victorious. “Yeah, I OWN YOU!” I muttered. I had my redemption – partially.

I don’t remember where this was, so putting it here seems good… (Also, the dude on the far left looks how most marathoners feel at some point.)

Despite my feelings of victory, my legs were aching. My tired legs carried me through the long-awaited Homewood, with its high-fives and loud cheering section and people out grilling (which smelled delicious, by the way). And despite the fact that I’d been looking forward to seeing greyhounds as part of a motivational station somewhere between miles 16 and 19 (I think), not even they couldn’t take my mind off the burn.

When I saw Mom along the long, gradual incline leading up to mile 19, she could tell I was hurting. “I’m ready to be done,” I said pathetically as I trotted up the hill, grabbing a cup of water from a volunteer and dumping it over my head.

Totally fake smile

Cooling off just before mile 19 (no, it was not actually as dark as it looks)

One of the spectators along this hill held up a giant foam finger and yelled, “HIGH-FIVE!” I like high-fives, but no way was I going to spend energy reaching up that far. So I held my hand at waist level and replied, “Low-five?” He smiled and brought his arm down for a low-five. Thank you, kind sir.

After I left Mom behind for the last time before I’d see her at the finish line, the mental battle really began. You know, thoughts like this: “Would it really be so bad to walk now? You’ve gone farther than you did last time.” “Maybe just a quick walk break.” “Just think how good your legs would feel if you walked.”

I pushed those thoughts off, but they intensified after I jogged past mile 20. “Now you’ve run farther than you ever have before!” (My training program takes me up to a 20-mile long run.) “Now you’ve set a personal record for running distance, so you really could walk now and it would be OK.”

I was SO TEMPTED. But I remembered my disappointment from the previous year and my goal to overcome this year. So I closed (and locked) the door to those thoughts and kept trotting along. I was going to run the whole thing.

Splits:
15.3 – 2:53:21, 11:20/mile
20 – 3:53:25, 11:38/mile

Two enthusiastic thumbs-up and two ridiculously tired legs!

At one point, the course took us on a street paved with bricks. I thought, “Hey! I remember this from last year!” In 2015, even immediately after the race, I could hardly remember anything after mile 19. But in 2016, I was surprised how much was familiar to me in those later miles: neighborhoods, intersections, roads, stores, etc. Woohoo!

Somewhere around mile 22, I was running through a neighborhood and there was a little girl cheering on the left side and a little boy on the right side. The girl was chanting, “NO MORE HILLS!” I’d studied the elevation chart, so I knew that wasn’t true! So I laughed and said, “I wish!” I was running on the side where the little boy was, so I jogged over and high-fived him. Then he started shouting, “NO MORE HILLS! NO MORE HILLS!” Lies! All lies!

There comes a point in every long run where I start thinking way too much about icy beverages and popsicles. It’s true. Thankfully, some people – to whom I am forever indebted – were handing out freeze pops not long after I passed those hill kids. I grabbed the first freeze pop I passed – a red one. And then I saw a someone holding out a grape one (MY FAVE), and I took that one too! So I ran the next little ways with freeze pops in each hand.

Untrustworthy vision during a marathon is a legit foe, my friends. Still clutching my freeze pops (at this point half consumed), I made my way up a small hill to where the final relay exchange was. I knew my friend Nicole was running the last leg of the relay, so there was a chance she’d still be at the exchange. I looked intently at the groups of runners…and I saw her! So I started yelling, “NICOLE!” and waving my freeze pops in the air. Wellllllllll…it definitely wasn’t Nicole. So I put my head down, returned my freeze pops to waist level, and booked it away from the relay exchange as fast as I could.

The good ol’ brain gets in on the deception too at some point. Not long after the relay exchange, I was running along on a long section of flat road, and I was absolutely struggling. Honestly, I was frustrated because I knew that if I was having problems on flat ground, I was really going to struggle once more hills popped up. But then a random spectator shouted something like, “You’re almost at the top of the hill!” And I looked up…and I actually was running up a hill, not on flat ground like my brain had been telling me! Silly brain…

One moment of victory came shortly before mile 23 (I think) when I was running past the Church Brew Works. It was at this point in 2015 that a race photographer had caught me walking (and looking intense yet struggly). This time, though, I ran past that spot. I love the difference between the two photos:

2015 on the left and 2016 on the right!

(Side note: I enjoyed listening to the people in the 2016 photo with me. The girl was explaining to the guy what it means to hit the wall in a long race. Someone tell me how this guy had presumably trained for a marathon and had never heard of that concept before!)

I don’t really remember what I thought about those last few miles – other than “Can I be done, please, so I don’t have to do this anymore today?”

“Am I done yet? No, but I need to not look like I’m suffering too much.”

I could see the marker for mile 23 up ahead, and some spectators, trying to be encouraging, shouted, “Less than 5K to go!” Well, if that wasn’t a big-time lie! At least the hill kids probably just didn’t know. But these ADULTS could see that we weren’t yet at mile 23, and even if we were, we’d still have 3.2 miles to go, “less than 5K (3.1).” Math, people!

My brain made me retreat into my own little world for a while, so I wasn’t aware of the agony of each step. But when I finally returned to reality around mile 24, I noticed that my music was no longer playing. Had the battery died? Had some water ruined the iPod? I had zero energy to investigate, so I decided that it was just going to be me, myself, and my thoughts for the remaining few miles. (Turns out I just hadn’t put the thing on repeat, so it had reached the end of the playlist and stopped.)

It was with great joy that I passed mile 25. After a while, the course took us back into the city. I was almost done!

Kind of misleading, though, because the downtown part seemed to take FOREVER. Every time I’d approach a corner, I’d think, “This is it! The finish line is just around the bend!” Aaaaand no.

But, despite the fact that I was on the slower side of things, the crowd support was still strong, with random strangers cheering us on and encouraging us. I just love Pittsburgh.

Every day I’m shufflin’…

And then I saw Mom! I was SO HAPPY to see her, even if I didn’t/couldn’t express it at that point. I handed off my water bottle and SPIbelt to her so I’d be unencumbered as I crossed the finish line, which at that point I knew was around the next corner.

My brain and heart were MUCH happier than my face looks.

I’d been saving up my energy, not wanting to deplete myself too early. But when I rounded the corner and saw that finish line ahead, I picked up the pace. I knew, without a doubt, that I was going to accomplish my goal. I was going to cross that finish line having run, not walked, the previous 26.2 miles.

“Is that a finish line I see?”

“It is! It is a finish line!” (I would not recommend this running form, btw.)

I kicked it in as hard as I could, grateful for the downward slope leading to the finish line.

And – BAM – I crossed it.

I hadn’t walked a single step. I had run every single one. For 5:17:45.

Medal and snacks in tow, I made my way out of the chute to meet up with Mom. And as soon as I saw her, the emotions unleashed.

I was crying because I’d met my goal, of course, but it didn’t occur to me that she didn’t know I’d run the whole thing! So she was wondering if I was crying because I had ended up walking! Finally I managed to get out something like, “I didn’t walk!” And we both cried.

I can’t put into words the feelings of relief and accomplishment. I lowered myself onto a curb just outside the chute (and sat there for a very long time, I might add, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get up and actually walk anywhere) and just let those feelings and experiences swirl around in my brain and my heart.

Probably tearing up again. It meant so much to me to have accomplished this.

The road to accomplishing my goal was a long one. The hours of training. The early Saturday mornings every week for months. The need to run in all sorts of weather. The increase in amounts of laundry (let’s be real). The dietary structure and timing. It was all difficult. I didn’t always like it. But it was all worth it when I crossed that finish line knowing that I did what I set out to do.

I’m a two-time marathoner. And I don’t quit.