Happyness

The kids and I were watching a favorite movie of mine, “The Pursuit of Happyness,” last night.

It’s based on the true story of Chris Garnder who, hard on his luck, becomes homeless with his five year old son. I won’t spoil the ending if you haven’t seen it. While playing basketball with his son, Gardner says:

“Don't ever let somebody tell you... You can't do something.  You got a dream... You gotta protect it. People can't do something themselves, they wanna tell you you can't do it. If you want something, go get it. Period.”

I turned up the volume to about 50 and asked the kids, “Did you hear that?”

Kids: “Uh, yeah. It was kind of loud.”
Me: “But, do you get it? Do you see what he means that you should never give up?”
Kids: “Uh, yeah. Okay. Can we have some more chocolate chips in a bowl?”

Later, after the chocolate chips were put away, and the kids were snug in their beds, I contemplated the quote. When someone tells us we can’t/shouldn’t do something or that we are not good enough, we can have one of two responses:

1. Believe them and prove them right. This is when you give up and think, “Yeah, they’re right. Who was I to even think I could do that anyway?” You see this all the time when a parent, coach or teacher tells a child that they are “bad”. The kid responds with “Let me show you just how bad a I can be,” and lives out the self-fulfilling prophecy.
2. Believe in yourself and prove them wrong.

Guess which option I like better?

Most of the time we are told we can’t do things by people who love and care about us, but want to protect us. They do not intend to be discouraging, they intend to take care of us. I can think of two incidents in my life where I was told I couldn't/shouldn’t do something I really wanted to do.

The first time was when I was 23. After a long application process, I had been accepted into the Peace Corps to go to West Africa (Mali) to teach people about forestry: planting gardens and such. I had absolutely not one minute of experience in this field, but still wanted to go for the experience. My mom, doing the job of being a mother, let me know she questioned if I could and should do this. While I saw her as discouraging me from a dream, she saw it as being a mother bear and protecting her young from what could have been a stressful and miserable two year commitment. In the end, I didn’t go. I’ll never know if this was the “right” choice or not. It was just the road not taken. But, seriously, can you imagine me planting fields in Mali? At least I could do some serious fertilizing!

The second time this happened, was just a few months ago, and you will remember it well if you’ve been reading this blog for awhile. I got a stress fracture in my hip in October 2010. My doctor, a competitive runner, knew I had registered for the Boston Marathon for April of 2011. He supported me recovering and coming back to run the race. I started physical therapy in January with a therapist I had never met before. Within five minutes of meeting me, she told me “Running Boston is not a good idea, I don’t see it happening.”

I was devastated, pissed, destroyed (read HERE). Yet, I also knew she was doing her job, which was to protect her patients and to move them towards recovery in the best way possible. Running a marathon did not fit into her treatment plan. As I began to recover and regain my strength, I eventually got her blessing. Four months later, I ran the Boston Marathon in 4:08. Not my fastest showing, but the one I am most proud of.

Look, Ma! No crutches!

Another reason someone might tell you can’t do something is jealousy. A supposed good friend might feel threatened when you say you want to train for your first marathon, and therefore tell you “I don’t think you can do that. It’s too hard on your body, too much of a time investment, etc.” When she really means, “I couldn’t do that, and if you do I fear I will appear weaker or less than you.”

Then there are just mean people who say you can’t do it because they hate their own miserable lives and don’t want to see anyone else succeed. Or, they just plain like looking down on people and feeling superior.

For me, the lesson in all of this is to dream big, but keep your feet on the ground. Take feedback from people you love, and try to decipher their intentions. Remember people may be trying to protect you, but you need to protect your dream. Above all, “If you want something, go get it.” Don’t be talked out of it.

Have you ever been told you couldn’t/shouldn’t do something you dreamed of? How did you react?

SUAR

Rebounding from Injury

I’m not sure if you all knew I had an injury and made a comeback. I never write about it. {insert sarcasm}. This is a picture-less post. Sorry. I had to get down to business. No time for meaningless self timer shots of me on the toilet or in the tub.

Okay, maybe just this one picture so we can play a quick round of “which body part is this?” Guess right and I’ll give you a sticker or a Jolly Rancher. Your choice.

That was fun, but now we must be serious.

Jeff from Running Through Phoenix asked me to post a bit on rebounding from my hip stress fracture injury and what my pace/mileage has been like. I do whatever Jeff tells me because I like him, and I feel badly because his ass is chaffed. So, here goes.

Returning to running post injury scared the crap out of me. With Boston looming, I tried not to rush my rebound just because I had a marathon to do in a few weeks. I did a swell job of not letting the pressure of the marathon put me in the danger zone of either reinjuring or delaying my recovery. If I hurt, I backed off. As much as it made me shit bricks, I was prepared to drop out of the race if my body wasn’t ready. One of the biggest hurdles was and is getting my confidence back in my body.

After a successful run in Boston with no pain, I knew I was completely healed from what my doctor calls the “mother of all stress fractures.” I was then free to return to running without too much fear. So, naturally I started putting in 70 mile weeks running twice a day everyday. You guys are so gullible.

What really happened was I chose the half ironman as my next goal because it would give me a marathon-like challenge, but would force me to cross train my ass off. I couldn’t fall into my old habits of running + running + more running = injury.

It is so different doing multi-sport training.  That means I am running much lower mileage than I typically do. I am doing 3 runs a week with only one of them being longer. Last week was six miles and I did that at an 8:30 pace. I told myself to hold back, take it easy and continue to let myself return to running in a smart and civilized way.

You know, self, you don’t have to go balls to the wall with every run. Which is good because I don’t have balls. Even with holding back I found that my pace was pretty much where I left off when I got injured. A regular non-tempo/speed/long run used to average about 8:30. I would venture to say I am fully back to where I was.

It’s true that when you get injured you return stronger. Stronger physically, because you have spent quality time with the pussy posse and run in the pool every f*cking day. Stronger physically because you have cross- trained the hell out of your body and are probably more fit head to toe than you have ever been when you are just a runner. Stronger physically because theoretically your broken bone heals stronger than it was before the injury.

Stronger mentally because you have had to battle through a serious tough patch and then you ran marathon in Boston with very little training. Stronger overall because you are more confident, smarter, more determined than ever to meet your goals.

Here’s the thing. Just because I got injured and learned a lot does not mean I won’t get injured again. I am fully aware that my competitive spirit and type-A behavior pushes me to an edge that can be dangerous.

I will always have to work on the “less is more” approach. I will always have to pull myself back and not overdo it. The only way that I will be successful at this is by holding myself accountable. One of the most valuable things I have learned is that I need recovery weeks every 3-4 weeks. You cannot ramp up over and over again, week by week, until race day and expect to reach the start line not over trained. You have got to pull back and rest to become stronger. I now know this. I now respect this. It might seem counterintuitive, but when you study the physiology of the body you realize it is truly the only way to go. Hell, those pros sleep like 95 hours a day and they are still pros.

But, when the day is done, I try to remember a few things.

• Don’t take yourself so seriously. Training is not your life. Miss a workout? It’s okay. Tunnel vision is stupid. Your life is full of things non-running/biking/swimming related and you need to give those things attention too.
• Do what you love. If training loses it’s appeal, change it up, take a break or re-assess your goals. No one is holding a gun to your head saying you have to complete an event.
• Your value is more than how fast far you run/bike/swim/pole dance.
• It’s just a race. Get over yourself.

Awesome review/giveaway coming tomorrow, so check back.

 SUAR

Peeing Technique

I took my first post-marathon run today for 5.5 miles. I wore my battery operated glowing shirt.

My legs felt great, but because I have a cold I had snot coming out of every orifice. I gagged on my own phlegm, which was pleasant.

My friend, Dana, who has been running for 40 years (including completing the Leadville 100 seven years in a row), had some sound  advice this week that I think we can all learn from:

Enjoy the buzz for the next few weeks and go back to your training gradually.  You have put an enormous amount of stress and pressure on yourself over the past 18 months, yes including the 6 months leading up to the 2010 Colorado Marathon. You qualified for Boston, ran with DK, completed your training for Denver and then spent 6 months trying to get in good enough shape while injured to survive Boston. Forget about the physical aspects, you have been emotionally at your redline for a LONG time. You need to give your mind, heart and soul a little rest.

Do whatever makes you happy but if running for the next 40 years is in the plans, think about spending the next month or two simply running for the JOY of running without the pressure of what's next.

Think of it in terms of quality vs. quantity. Typically, newer people to the sport start with quantity and evolve to quality. The reason is they can't get enough at first but soon realize too much can be a big detraction from the whole picture. Everyone needs to find what works for them, I'm just trying to point out that there is a balance between every day running and how many events you enter.

After a few weeks when the Boston high starts to fade, look forward to just going out for a run with no pressure to perform and with the sole purpose of running for your spirit. There is so much joy in being able to run whatever distance and speed makes you feel the happiest.

I love what he says about quality vs. quantity. If this injury has taught me one thing it’s that less really can be more. That and that everyone needs their own personal pussy posse.

And, now for some stolen Boston photos:

This first photo was taken around mile ten, I think. After that I ripped my name off my shirt. I am weird, but for some reason it annoyed me to have people screaming my name constantly.

Here is where I have an extra flap of skin above my knee:

I was trying to be cool with my fingers here:

Finish line:

One thing I did not share about Boston, but that has very much been on my mind, is girls peeing. I’m a girl and I pee outside so I know about the squatting thing. What was new for me was watching girls do the straddle thing in the woods. These brave souls would jump off the course and into the woods, straddle their legs, pull their shorts aside and let the pee stream fly. This was the stance. Just pretend I have shorts on and am pulling them aside:

This is a wonderful technique and one I will be using from here on out. I may even start using it in my yard and forego the toilet completely. I don’t think I will try it for #2, however.

Happy Monday,

SUAR

PS: Don’t forget my Sporty Girl Jewelry giveaway, ends tomorrow

You May Not Know This

Or you may. But, I didn’t.

Sam: Mom, want to know why I’m the best son in the world?

Me: Because I gave birth to you?

Sam: No, because I found your name on the Boston poster!

Me: WTH? What do you mean? There aren’t any names on the Boston poster.

Sam: I’ll show you.

Me: You liar.

Damn if he wasn’t right.

See, many people had told me to pick up a poster from the Adidas booth at the Boston Marathon expo. I took five because they were free and I’m greedy. There is one hanging in my office and Sam has one in his room. I’ll put one the bathroom for good measure.

But, little known secret – the background of the poster has every runner’s name listed, so small that seriously only someone less than 15 years old could read the names. They are in alphabetical order. All 27,000. Sam found mine:

How did I not know this? Did you all know this and I did not know this? Why didn’t you tell me? What else are you keeping from me?

If you need Sam to find your name, you have one of two options. Send him a round trip ticket to your town and he will come there with a Sharpie. Or, simply send your poster in the mail to:

7th grader with good eyes
P.O. Box  20/20

Feeling famous,

SUAR

“When My Mom Ran the Boston Marathon…”

It’s tough to hang out with a marathoner before and during race day.

As runners we drag our kids, spouses, mistresses, and life partners through  the tangled and crowded messes called “expos.” If you are a Siamese twin whose better half wants to run a marathon, you are screwed.

Damn, that’s weird

We then ask these “support staff” to drive around strange cities, or better yet, decipher confusing public transportation just to watch us run by for 30 seconds. They must do this several times over the course of one to five hours.

When I spectated my first marathon last October, I could not BELIEVE how exhausting, draining  and exhilarating it was to be a spectator. I’ll never take this for granted.

Ken, the kids, my aunt/uncle and my cousin, her husband and their son went to ridiculous lengths to find me during the Boston Marathon at 7 miles, 13.2 miles, 20 miles and the finish. They pushed their way through crowds, got into traffic jams, struggled to find parking spots and waited patiently until I arrived. They met me with smiles, encouragement and love. They never once complained. They accepted my sweaty and grotesque hugs and didn’t mention that maybe I needed to change my underwear.

The night we got home from Boston, Emma, age 10, wrote a memoir as a school assignment. It is a daughter’s perspective on the day. It steals my heart:

My favorite part is “I felt like the coolest kid in the world, for having a runner mom.” Priceless.

A week from tomorrow I get my turn to watch it all go down. Ken is running his first marathon. One of my clients, Deb, who is 50, is running her first marathon. My dear friend Joie will complete her second marathon. I’m all choked up just thinking about finding them along the way and watching them finish. Thank God they’re all doing the same one.

You can say, “It’s just running, it’s just a race.” But those of us who run know that completing the race represents so much more.

It is the final expression of miles upon miles run in the cold, wet, heat. Of solo training runs that sometimes tax you to your core and sometimes build your confidence to the sky. Of self doubt and self pride. It symbolizes doing what we said we were going to do. Of finding our inner strength and challenging it beyond measure. It simply makes us better. To share that with those who mean the most to you is the ultimate gift.

Damn. Way too early on a Saturday to cry at my own post.

Off to watch the snow fall,

SUAR

PS: Don’t forget my Sporty Girl Jewelry Giveaway!

Reflections

First off, thank you for reading and caring about my Boston experience. I KNOW you must be sick of my hip injury and talk of Boston by now, so thanks for sticking with me on the journey. As one commenter so eloquently said:

Jeez. Can you just give me a minute?

Before we completely move on, one more thing. Just one more freaking thing! Sorry, anonymous. You might need to go take a dump or something to avoid reading this.

Leslie Rubinkowski of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette interviewed me post-Boston to get some impressions and reflections on the race. You might remember that Leslie interviewed me a couple of months ago, when I was still unsure about Boston. She is running her first marathon in Pittsburgh on May 15, and has been doing a blogging column regarding her training. She is such a talented writer and it’s a great and inspiring read for sure.

You can read her interview with me HERE. I thought she had some insightful questions and it gave me a chance to process the race, including my lesbian experience and how I got naked at mile 22.

Off to Whole Foods for almond croissants,

SUAR

2011 Boston Race Report–Part 2

If you care for the full story, see part one HERE. We left off as I was approaching the half-way mark.

Here’s when it starts getting good.

Some people thought this was me, but it wasn’t. (thanks for the picture Jill!)

I got to Wellesley and those girls are no  joke. You can hear them screaming from about a mile away. I saw someone with a sign that said, “Kiss me, I’m kind of gay!” so I went for it. This woman grabbed my face and yanked me towards her so hard I farted. She planted a big slimy lipstick kiss on my lips. No tongue, though.

I hit the half in 1:57. Saw Ken, the kids, my Uncle Gary and my Aunt Lizzy. So excited!! Gary and Lizzy have lived in Boston for years. They ran the marathon back in 1979, so it holds a special place for them too. Only they were bandits. Shhhh.

Right before this picture was taken I lifted up that man’s kilt and got a ball-full. I mean eye-full

 

 

 

After the halfway mark I plodded on feeling okay. I knew the Newton hills were going to hit at 17 miles, so I mentally prepared for that. I also knew my pace which had been sub 9:00 min/miles up to that point was going to suffer. I was a good girl and walked through every aid station. My doc and sport’s physiologist told me that taking walk breaks was going to keep me safe in this race. The aid stations were seriously not even a mile apart, so it was easy to do.

Once I hit the hills, I still felt okay and powered up them pretty well. I didn't think they were too big of a deal except that they were so late in the race when you’re already kind of pooped. After Heartbreak Hill,(about 20.5 miles in) I was ready to be done. I was tired and everything hurt (except my hip!). It was a real low point. I kept telling myself that I had to welcome the pain and embrace the low points because they would fade into something else soon. At mile 21 I saw the gang again. Only this time I burst into tears. I was so mentally fatigued and overcome with emotion about being that close to the end. Plus, I just wanted a damn beer! Or that Tarzan man from mile one.

Here’s the perfect time to tell you that I don’t recommend running a marathon with as little training as I had. You all know I ran my ass off in the water, I biked, I swam, I did yoga. This race would have been completely impossible without those things. However, the best way to train for a marathon is actually to put in the miles and long runs. That’s the part I couldn’t do. And I felt it. A lot. I had to pull out every stop in the mental department on this one. There were times when I was even trying to completely dissociate from my body and just fly along. I kept my pace pretty consistent. But it never once occurred to me I wouldn’t or couldn’t finish. Not for a second.

So, when I saw my family again after mile 20 I just broke down. Only for a moment. All I can say was that I was overcome by emotion. 10K to go and I would finish this thing.

I headed towards the finish. My stomach was cramping. My hamstrings were screaming at me and my feet burned (that’s a new one). Mile 22 I knew I had to get something out. Queue poop story. I found a medic tent with on single potty along the course right in the midst of the crowd. I went in, realized my underwear was slightly soiled. Don’t get grossed out, it was only a squirt. And nothing like this chick. I do have standards, you know. (stolen from skinnyrunner’s blog).

The whole stinking reason I wore underwear, which I never do, so I could have a bit of a buffer. I decided right then I was taking off these undies and throwing them away. Unfortunately, this meant taking off my entire skirt, which I did. At the very exact moment I had my skirt off, naked from the waist down, some dude comes barreling on into the potty. I forgot to lock the door. He had a moment of “WTF??”, apologized and slammed the door. I was too tired to care. But I am pretty sure he had a post marathon story for his buddies that night, “Yeah, guys I finally got my PR, but the highlight of my day was at mile 22 when…”

By this time  I know there was no way in hell I was breaking four hours. I kept up the pace, though. I wanted to be done so badly I can’t even tell you. Just one foot in front of the other. You are strong, capable, committed.

When I got close to the Citgo sign signaling only 1 mile to go, I was almost delirious. I reached down to adjust the dangling bracelet on my arm that says, “We R 4 Cribby. Strength.” I wear this bracelet for my son Sam’s teacher, 47, who has been in the ICU since February with a deadly bacterial infection that has already taken his arm and shoulder. I fingered the bracelet and knew that me running a few more miles was NOTHING, NOTHING compared to what Mr. Cribby goes through every day. I stopped my internal whining and kicked it in to the finish.

The “Cribby bracelet”

 

Final time: 4:08. Average pace: 9:28.

Not my best showing, but I’ll take it.

Final words on Boston. Tough course. Best fans. Intense. Invigorating. Exhausting. Chance of a lifetime.

There aren’t too many times in life when you can really reach around and pat yourself on the back and know you did something really hard. Something that you weren’t sure you could do. Something that other people maybe thought you couldn’t or shouldn’t do. It’s a quickly passing moment when you let yourself believe you are capable of anything. You are on top of the world.

I checked email that night and saw an unexpected message from my doctor at the Boulder Center for Sport’s Medicine:

That night we had a celebration at my cousin’s:

And, it doesn’t hurt to come home to this. Still not sure who put that on my garage. Was it you?

From my mom and dad…

Don’t let nothing stop you! And if you have to throw away your underwear at mile 22, for god’s sake, lock the door.

SUAR

2011 Boston Marathon Race Report–Part I

Believe deep down in your heart that you're destined to do great things.
Joe Paterno

As I lay in bed the night before the Boston Marathon it occurred to me that it should be illegal to sleep in the same hotel room with your kids the night before a big race. Mostly because it puts their lives in danger and it would suck to be arrested the night before the big race because you hurt someone when they were being loud and wouldn’t let you GO TO SLEEP.

6:00 a.m. wakeup – headed over to Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee and a quick dozen ‘nuts (just kidding) before meeting my friend Lisa and her brother for the busses. I hadn’t seen Lisa for 30 years. We were best friends in 7th grade when we lived in Athens, Greece. We lost touch when we both moved back home. She found me on Facebook a few months ago and told me she had BQ’d too. We had a blast catching upon the bus ride and in the Athlete’s Village. SUAR was something to behold in 7th grade, let me tell ya. I was supposed to meet EMZ too, but couldn’t find that long-legged wench anywhere.

The weather in Hopinkton was great, but the wind sucked the big one. It whipped around and made me cold.

We kept warm how we could using the potties as our wind blockers.

This is my pre-marathon refugee look. Kara Goucher looks like this too right before she hits the start line:

A favorite friend, Nicky, send me a text at that point. I love her.

Pretty soon, I headed to the start gazing around in the surreal daze when you know something is happening that you’ve been waiting for forever, but you can’t quite grasp that it really is happening. Take it, take it in, I told myself.

We were off. I quickly settled into a Beth pace that involved keeping my cadence quick and light and not giving into temptation to sprint it all out. After all, with 26 miles to go, that’s a long time to be sprinting.

There is always some smart ass at the beginning of a marathon that says, one kilometer down, 41 more to go. And, they think they’re really funny, but really it’s just annoying to me. I’m already psyched out enough about the distance, don’t remind me. I needed to lighten up, right? Which is what I did immediately when this Tarzan guy ran by me wearing nothing but a loin cloth. I watched his ass and balls jiggle for a bit then he was out of sight, but not out of mind.

The truth is that morning I was surprisingly calm. Even though I had no clue if I would complete the race if my hip gave out or how long it might take me (I could only estimate between four and five hours), it was one of those moments when you give into the experience and let go of having to know the ending. It would all be okay.

I hit the 10K mark at about 54 minutes. My favorite cousin, Anna, her husband Jeremy and their sweet boy Liam were waiting. I see them…

Then I do this cool backwards move to cut across the road and get to them without taking out the old guy:

Here I am getting dramatic about something. “Oh my God, like, I might have chipped a nail.”

Then I give the big tackle:

And I’m on my way:

 

Got more shut up and running to do:

I ran on knowing the next place I would see my people was at the halfway. I cruised along nicely confident I’d hit the half in less than two hours. SCORE! For a moment I actually thought I might break four hours in the race. I decided to check out for a bit and put in my music. The crowds were really intense and I just needed a moment….Those Wellesley girls were just around the corner.

Part two, coming soon. Had to do in two sections – sorry. Computer totally acting up. But, stay tuned, it gets a bit uglier.

SUAR

Shipping Off

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This is the post when I say “See you in Boston.” I won’t get all mushy, and certainly no need to go over the journey of how I got to this place because I’ve already rammed that down your throats repeatedly since October.

There was the pussy posse, the pussy pick-up, licking myself like a cat, crying on the PT table, my first eight minute run, lots of wine, lots of whine…and now a plane trip tomorrow morning to the start line of this journey.

Who am I kidding? I started the journey a long time ago. The marathon itself will just be the big exclamation point on the whole thing.

Here’s hoping two things: 1. My hip stays safe and, 2. I don’t crap my pretty skirt (but that would make for a good story).

Alert! I’ve made an outfit change for race day. While I adore this Athleta shirt:

This shirt became available and trumps everything including going bare chested:

It’s an Alo tech shirt. I had them printed up at a local place. Ken and Sam have grey ones with an orange logo. I also had a cool hoodie made and some sweats that say “Shut Up and Run” on the ass because my ass is a central theme of this blog.

It looks good with this skirt, too.

And, the cherry on the top is this necklace I got from Ann at Sporty Girl. This is my good luck charm!

I know!! So cool. I’ll be doing a giveaway from Sporty Girl when I get back .

I am packing. I will carry-on a special bag with the essentials: shoes, outfit, paperwork, Garmin, etc. And a few other select items:

Nail polish to match my skirt, earplugs (a must for me when I travel), SUAR stickers in case the TSA guys want one, magazines for the plane, sticky letters for my shirt on race day so the drunk college boys can yell for me, and anti-anxiety meds for the flight. It’s either that or crack.

Now for the ugly stuff. U–G-L-Y, no alibi.  Throwaway blanket, jacket and sweats for race morning. Pool raft from Target to sit on while at Athlete’s village. My doc recommended this because the ground can be so cold and hard while you wait.

So, here I go. I’m Shipping off to Boston! Say a prayer, send a good vibe or just fart in my honor.

More from Beantown,

SUAR

PS: Don’t forget my Running on Empty book giveaway.

Winner and Thoughts

The winner of the 110% Play Harder Calf Sleeves is Haley from Climb, Run, Lift, Mom.

Congrats! Drop me an email at shutuprun@gmail.com and I’ll tell you how to claim your prize!

I’m trying to not let Boston consume my every thought, but it’s hard. I’ve been up since 4:30 a.m. hashing through stuff. The journey to get here has been dramatic, long and bumpy. Like I have to tell you that. I will say that although this upcoming trip revolves around “The Boston,” it represents much more than a race for me.

Remember back in January when my daughter made this for me?

She must have had a crystal ball.

The day I found this gift on my desk I was incredibly touched.  I was not, however, convinced I would make it to “The Boston.” At that time, I still had a lot of pain, had been told by my PT I should not run Boston, and could scarcely put in any miles. Our close friends planned on making the trip to see me run Boston and I told them not to buy tickets because I just wasn’t sure I would be able to do it. That sucked.

See the thing is, I’m okay with not PR’ing. I'm okay with walking some. But, I am not okay with doing the race in pain and perhaps setting myself back even more. It was a huge question mark back in January and February.

What a difference three months can make. I am pain free. I feeling twinges now and then, but mostly my left hip feels as strong as my right.

When you’re injured, it’s kind of like when you’re pregnant (minus the growing fetus and the huge boobs and the puking). Everyone has an opinion about you and your situation. I do appreciate most advice and input, but sometimes it’s confusing and overwhelming.

• You’re lucky, you healed so fast.
• What’s wrong with you? It took you so long to heal.
• You must be malnourished.
• You should run barefoot.
• Did you try acupuncture?
• You’re in the wrong shoes.
• Only run on trails.
• Run on the surface your race is on.
• You must have a vitamin deficiency.
• Did you get  bone scan?
• Eat more anti-inflammatory foods, more dairy, less dairy, more protein, etc.
• Stretch.
• Don’t stretch.

The list goes on.

These are all good ideas and things to think about. But, my point is – we heal in our own time and we all make sense of our injuries in different ways. We make a choice whether we grow and learn from what has happened.

I don’t know if I over-trained and that led to my injury. My training plan was reasonable, moderate. My goals were consistent with my fitness level and history. Bottom line is that I am in the highest risk group for stress fractures: female, over forty, thin, white.

I wish I were a stocky black man.

Who knows? I just may be someone who need to run less and cross train more. I am determined to keep running, but am willing to change how I do things in order to stay healthy. Being  a newer runner I got SO excited about my goals and races that perhaps it got away from me and I lost perspective and balance. I am finding my way back to somewhere in the middle.

So, yes, Boston is WAY more than a race for me. It represents healing, strength, overcoming adversity, determination. I did not go it alone. I had you. I had my family, my friends, my faith.

So, thank you. For being there. For raising me up. For believing in me. For supporting me. For being honest when I needed to hear it. For loving me and my poop woes. 

SUAR