Wow! Welcome back to the planet, Amy!
First of all, I am insanely proud of my crazy sisters and brother in law for running a marathon. Are you kidding? Insane.
So I have been missing from the blog for the last few weeks because it has been absolutely INSANE trying to get things closed up for the end of the year at school. We have an extended school year, so needless to day, the kids were ready, I was ready, everyone was ready. Not to mention we had a teacher or two leave early so yours truly was in charge of packing up pretty much the entire hallway.
Anyways, enough complaining. I AM ON SUMMER VACATION. Do you have any idea how good it feels to say that? I got the official "See ya lata" from my director today at 11:26 (yes, I looked at the clock) and now I have the entire month of July to relax and enjoy the summer sun and fun (we've been going light on the sun in Chicago today, however).
On the agenda:
1) Move June 30th
2) Frantically pack from June 27th (today) until June 30th
3) Belated Father's Day trip to LP to see the Chipster (our dad) with Brady on Wednesday
4) Condo Warming Party on July 2nd (yes, that's 3 days after we move and yes, we're insane).
5) Dinner with friends next week (DG one night, Handley another night)
6) FLORIDA with Roger's amazing family (and Harry Potter World, I might add... and no, I'm not kidding)
7) Engagement Dinner Party for one of my best friends, Jenna.
8) 2 Weddings on July 30th
9) Celebrating Roger and I's 1st Anniversary on July 31st =)
10) Secret Trip with the whole family for my parent's anniversary during the first weekend in August
11) Undisclosed Father's Day Surprise plans with my father sometime soon...
12) DG Reunion weekend at the end of August
13) Another potential half marathon in August.
WOW. That's a lot on the summer agenda, but how fun does all of that sound? I am SO happy to have a little break from school. Woo hoo!
Peace!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
We ran a marathon! - Brady
We did, we did! It was an amazing experience that was also amazingly difficult. Here's my very long, very detailed description of the day:
I was keyed up for this marathon. Obviously. I was like a kid before Christmas morning - except that kid would have to live in a world where children earn their presents by physically suffering for a couple of hours before they open them. The mix of excitement and dread was a brand new experience.
Arriving in Duluth and going to the Expo was awesome. Our hotel room was sweet. Our pasta dinner on Friday night tasted great, and we got to sit at a table overlooking Lake Superior. As fun as all that was, though, I was scared. In particular I kept obsessing about the weather. They were predicting lots of rain and maybe some thunderstorms. I was convinced the race would be cancelled. Or that we would run totally drenched. I can see now that it was just something to fixate on - a place to channel my nervous energy.
So anyway, we prepared as well as we could. We laid out all of our gear. I had grabbed two pace bracelets at the expo. One for my goal time of 5 hours, and one for a time I NEVER thought I’d hit - 4:30. I also decided later in the evening to put my name on my bib. We were completely ready to go and in bed around 9. I actually, surprisingly, slept really well.
When the alarm rang at 4 a.m., I got right out of bed, flipped on the coffeemaker I had stocked the night before, got dressed, and made myself my typical pre-long run breakfast of peanut butter toast with craisins. It was raining, and at this point I was beyond anxious about the day.
When Kelly and Kevin were ready we hopped on the shuttle and were driven to the town of Two Harbors. I actually felt better once we got there. I got kind of excited, even giddy. The race was well organized, so the starting line was pretty stress free. We lined up in the 4:30 group and crossed the starting line at about 7:35 a.m. We were able to run our pace right away - no shimmying around walkers. I was thinking at the time that I couldn’t believe we were actually doing it.
The first 10 or so miles felt easy (thank you, weeks of tapering and healthy eating) and were uneventful. Kelly broke off at mile 4 because she wanted to make sure she was at a speed where she felt comfortable. Kevin and I chugged along, admiring the views of the lake, not talking much at all. I kept an eye on our pace and knew we were doing really, really well, but I didn’t mention it to Kevin because I didn’t want to overthink it. (We are master overthinkers.)
I ate a “block” (kind of like a big fruit snack) half a mile before every water stop (which they placed about every 2 miles), and when I got to the stop I always had as much water as I felt like drinking as well as half a cup of Powerade. I was extremely focused for the entire race and stayed on a strict eating/drinking schedule. It was pretty amazing to feel the effect calories had on my body. After about 14 miles I started to get fatigued as I’d approach a water stop. I’d take a block, drink my fluids, and within 5 minutes, I’d feel good again. That’s one thing that’s really worthwhile about training for a marathon. You become very in tune with your energy levels, and you understand a lot more clearly how the food you eat affects you.
And we kept moving. At some point the details of the race become fuzzy. To give you an idea of how far gone I was - I remember being confused at mile 17. I thought I had 17, not 9, miles to go. And - here’s the kicker - I was okay with that. It was like I had accepted I’d be running for a really, really long time, so 9 miles, 17 miles, whatever. It was all the same to me. I also remember moments where I’d take a drink of water, and it’d just dribble out of my mouth because I couldn’t summon the energy to swallow. (Running a marathon is super dignified, huh?)
Around mile 18 or so time start moving really slowly. And at Mile 20 running became very difficult, and I couldn’t believe I still had another hour ahead of me. People talk about hitting “the wall” somewhere between miles 16 and 22. I guess I always assumed you hit it, had a rough patch, and then bounced back again. Not so for the yours truly. For me, “the wall” went on until the end of the race. I felt like I was in a dream world. I couldn’t pay attention to the cheering or acknowledge the crowd. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I barely knew who I was. It was a surreal experience. When I think back on that part of the race, I can’t remember what the pain actually felt like. I know it was hard, but it’s all kind of a haze in my head.
I do remember at one point getting high fives from some drunk college kids - I’m a sucker for high fives during long races. I also remember how the dreaded “Lemon Drop Hill” at mile 22 actually felt kind of good because my muscles got to work in a different way. The rolling hills on the course were, in general, kind of nice. I did a really good job of staying in the moment, as far as I can recall, and I think that’s what got me through it. I kept telling myself, “I just need to run right now. Don’t worry about what’s down the road.”
Toward the very end, I felt a couple of times like my legs were just going to give out and that I’d collapse right there on the street. I could bring myself back a little by tossing water on my head…it would snap me out of my spacey-ness for a few minutes. But that was always pretty short-lived. I wasn’t even sure I’d finish until about halfway through mile 25. At that point, I saw that we might be able to get a 4:30, so I picked up some speed. The last mile was absolutely brutal. First of all, that extra .2 makes a HUGE DIFFERENCE! Also, the route was winding, and you couldn’t see the finish line until you were right up on it. To give you an idea of how tired I was, I saw one mat (you have to run over them to get your official time) like maybe 20 feet in front of the finish line (no idea why it was there). When I realized I had to go just a few yards farther to the actual end, I nearly had a breakdown.
But we made it! Kevin and I crossed together and we hugged, hard. Someone put a medal around my neck and handed me a red carnation and asked what t-shirt size I wanted. I actually wasn’t that happy in the finishing chute. Instead, I just felt kind of desperate to take care of my physical needs. I wanted to sit - I actually felt like I needed to sit. I wanted water. Then, pretty quickly, I wanted to get warm. The weather was perfect for running - 50 degrees and overcast, no real rain. But I started shivering after we stopped moving and felt almost like I was at risk for hypothermia if I didn’t get dry. Kevin got me one of those metallic blankets, and we tried to eat, but that didn’t go well. A bit later I hobbled over to the women’s tent with my sweat bag. Changing hurt a lot. I kept almost tipping over. I had sores under my arms and on my chest from chafing, so taking off wet clothes was pretty painful. I also got this epic foot cramp - my toes involuntarily crunched up into a little ball, and I had to unwrap them with my fingers. Craziness. When I was finally changed and could walk and had my cell phone, I called my mom.
And THAT, my friends, was when I got happy. I kept my emotions in check for the entire race - I was like a machine. But when she picked up the phone cheering, it all hit me. It’s hard to describe the moment. I was just so, so proud. So relieved. So happy to be done. It was incredible, and I’ll always remember it.
In the the space of a few minutes, I talked to my mom and dad and found Kelly (who finished about 15 or 20 minutes behind us, also meeting her time goal). And it was funny - for the rest of the weekend, really, the enormity of what we’d done grew and grew for me. I just kept getting happier - the high kept getting better. In the late stages of the race, I thought, “There is no way in hell I’m ever doing this again.” Right after we finished, I thought the same thing. “I did it once. I did it well. Never again.” But now I’m pretty convinced I WILL run another marathon. And I want to do even better next time.
So that’s my story. Let me just say…running a marathon is a little bit insane. Nothing that happened Saturday convinced me otherwise. It was without question the most demanding physical challenge I have ever faced. But it was worth every second of it. I feel like a different, stronger person now, and I’m 100% confident I can call myself a runner.
Final time: 4 hours, 30 minutes, 42 seconds. Half an hour faster than our goal time.
Final pace: 10 minutes, 20 seconds per mile.
If you want to see pictures, you can click here.
I was keyed up for this marathon. Obviously. I was like a kid before Christmas morning - except that kid would have to live in a world where children earn their presents by physically suffering for a couple of hours before they open them. The mix of excitement and dread was a brand new experience.
Arriving in Duluth and going to the Expo was awesome. Our hotel room was sweet. Our pasta dinner on Friday night tasted great, and we got to sit at a table overlooking Lake Superior. As fun as all that was, though, I was scared. In particular I kept obsessing about the weather. They were predicting lots of rain and maybe some thunderstorms. I was convinced the race would be cancelled. Or that we would run totally drenched. I can see now that it was just something to fixate on - a place to channel my nervous energy.
So anyway, we prepared as well as we could. We laid out all of our gear. I had grabbed two pace bracelets at the expo. One for my goal time of 5 hours, and one for a time I NEVER thought I’d hit - 4:30. I also decided later in the evening to put my name on my bib. We were completely ready to go and in bed around 9. I actually, surprisingly, slept really well.
When the alarm rang at 4 a.m., I got right out of bed, flipped on the coffeemaker I had stocked the night before, got dressed, and made myself my typical pre-long run breakfast of peanut butter toast with craisins. It was raining, and at this point I was beyond anxious about the day.
When Kelly and Kevin were ready we hopped on the shuttle and were driven to the town of Two Harbors. I actually felt better once we got there. I got kind of excited, even giddy. The race was well organized, so the starting line was pretty stress free. We lined up in the 4:30 group and crossed the starting line at about 7:35 a.m. We were able to run our pace right away - no shimmying around walkers. I was thinking at the time that I couldn’t believe we were actually doing it.
The first 10 or so miles felt easy (thank you, weeks of tapering and healthy eating) and were uneventful. Kelly broke off at mile 4 because she wanted to make sure she was at a speed where she felt comfortable. Kevin and I chugged along, admiring the views of the lake, not talking much at all. I kept an eye on our pace and knew we were doing really, really well, but I didn’t mention it to Kevin because I didn’t want to overthink it. (We are master overthinkers.)
I ate a “block” (kind of like a big fruit snack) half a mile before every water stop (which they placed about every 2 miles), and when I got to the stop I always had as much water as I felt like drinking as well as half a cup of Powerade. I was extremely focused for the entire race and stayed on a strict eating/drinking schedule. It was pretty amazing to feel the effect calories had on my body. After about 14 miles I started to get fatigued as I’d approach a water stop. I’d take a block, drink my fluids, and within 5 minutes, I’d feel good again. That’s one thing that’s really worthwhile about training for a marathon. You become very in tune with your energy levels, and you understand a lot more clearly how the food you eat affects you.
And we kept moving. At some point the details of the race become fuzzy. To give you an idea of how far gone I was - I remember being confused at mile 17. I thought I had 17, not 9, miles to go. And - here’s the kicker - I was okay with that. It was like I had accepted I’d be running for a really, really long time, so 9 miles, 17 miles, whatever. It was all the same to me. I also remember moments where I’d take a drink of water, and it’d just dribble out of my mouth because I couldn’t summon the energy to swallow. (Running a marathon is super dignified, huh?)
Around mile 18 or so time start moving really slowly. And at Mile 20 running became very difficult, and I couldn’t believe I still had another hour ahead of me. People talk about hitting “the wall” somewhere between miles 16 and 22. I guess I always assumed you hit it, had a rough patch, and then bounced back again. Not so for the yours truly. For me, “the wall” went on until the end of the race. I felt like I was in a dream world. I couldn’t pay attention to the cheering or acknowledge the crowd. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t talk. I barely knew who I was. It was a surreal experience. When I think back on that part of the race, I can’t remember what the pain actually felt like. I know it was hard, but it’s all kind of a haze in my head.
I do remember at one point getting high fives from some drunk college kids - I’m a sucker for high fives during long races. I also remember how the dreaded “Lemon Drop Hill” at mile 22 actually felt kind of good because my muscles got to work in a different way. The rolling hills on the course were, in general, kind of nice. I did a really good job of staying in the moment, as far as I can recall, and I think that’s what got me through it. I kept telling myself, “I just need to run right now. Don’t worry about what’s down the road.”
Toward the very end, I felt a couple of times like my legs were just going to give out and that I’d collapse right there on the street. I could bring myself back a little by tossing water on my head…it would snap me out of my spacey-ness for a few minutes. But that was always pretty short-lived. I wasn’t even sure I’d finish until about halfway through mile 25. At that point, I saw that we might be able to get a 4:30, so I picked up some speed. The last mile was absolutely brutal. First of all, that extra .2 makes a HUGE DIFFERENCE! Also, the route was winding, and you couldn’t see the finish line until you were right up on it. To give you an idea of how tired I was, I saw one mat (you have to run over them to get your official time) like maybe 20 feet in front of the finish line (no idea why it was there). When I realized I had to go just a few yards farther to the actual end, I nearly had a breakdown.
But we made it! Kevin and I crossed together and we hugged, hard. Someone put a medal around my neck and handed me a red carnation and asked what t-shirt size I wanted. I actually wasn’t that happy in the finishing chute. Instead, I just felt kind of desperate to take care of my physical needs. I wanted to sit - I actually felt like I needed to sit. I wanted water. Then, pretty quickly, I wanted to get warm. The weather was perfect for running - 50 degrees and overcast, no real rain. But I started shivering after we stopped moving and felt almost like I was at risk for hypothermia if I didn’t get dry. Kevin got me one of those metallic blankets, and we tried to eat, but that didn’t go well. A bit later I hobbled over to the women’s tent with my sweat bag. Changing hurt a lot. I kept almost tipping over. I had sores under my arms and on my chest from chafing, so taking off wet clothes was pretty painful. I also got this epic foot cramp - my toes involuntarily crunched up into a little ball, and I had to unwrap them with my fingers. Craziness. When I was finally changed and could walk and had my cell phone, I called my mom.
And THAT, my friends, was when I got happy. I kept my emotions in check for the entire race - I was like a machine. But when she picked up the phone cheering, it all hit me. It’s hard to describe the moment. I was just so, so proud. So relieved. So happy to be done. It was incredible, and I’ll always remember it.
In the the space of a few minutes, I talked to my mom and dad and found Kelly (who finished about 15 or 20 minutes behind us, also meeting her time goal). And it was funny - for the rest of the weekend, really, the enormity of what we’d done grew and grew for me. I just kept getting happier - the high kept getting better. In the late stages of the race, I thought, “There is no way in hell I’m ever doing this again.” Right after we finished, I thought the same thing. “I did it once. I did it well. Never again.” But now I’m pretty convinced I WILL run another marathon. And I want to do even better next time.
So that’s my story. Let me just say…running a marathon is a little bit insane. Nothing that happened Saturday convinced me otherwise. It was without question the most demanding physical challenge I have ever faced. But it was worth every second of it. I feel like a different, stronger person now, and I’m 100% confident I can call myself a runner.
Final time: 4 hours, 30 minutes, 42 seconds. Half an hour faster than our goal time.
Final pace: 10 minutes, 20 seconds per mile.
If you want to see pictures, you can click here.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Done with classes! - Brady
I turned in my last final for the spring quarter on Thursday afternoon. That means...
I'm done with classes! Forever!
I spend the next 2-3 years doing research projects and writing my dissertation. Isn't that weird? I still have trouble wrapping my head around it.
But, the point is, grad school classes were HARD. Make-me-doubt-I'm-smart-enough-for-this hard. I'm so relieved they're over. And it's a pretty sweet deal to be able to work on projects of my choice, on my own timetable, wherever I want to work, from now until 2014.
I'm done with classes! Forever!
I spend the next 2-3 years doing research projects and writing my dissertation. Isn't that weird? I still have trouble wrapping my head around it.
But, the point is, grad school classes were HARD. Make-me-doubt-I'm-smart-enough-for-this hard. I'm so relieved they're over. And it's a pretty sweet deal to be able to work on projects of my choice, on my own timetable, wherever I want to work, from now until 2014.
Friday, June 3, 2011
We ran 20 miles. - Brady
A week ago today, exactly. In fact, at this time last week, I was hitting the lowest of my 20 mile low points. When I got home, I wrote about it. I'm pretty...uh...honest here. Don't think I'm a wimp, okay?
What It Feels Like to Run 20 Miles:
My day started at 3:45 a.m. I hopped right out of bed, made coffee and peanut butter toast, and checked my blogs. Kevin got up at 4:10. We changed and met Kelly at 5.
We started running right at sunrise. It was, for the most part, a gorgeous morning. Chicago was looking fabulous.
We started out north on the Lakeshore Trail, ran from Belmont to Hollywood, turned around, and headed south, still on the trail. (We saw a COYOTE just south of Belmont Harbor!) The first 2 miles were good. 3-8 were my sweet spot, as usual. 9 and 10 were solid. Kelly and I commented on how easy it felt and how it was building our confidence for the REAL DEAL. Miles 11 and 12 were fine. We made it just beyond Adler Planetarium, turning around at exactly 13.6 miles. I was okay up to this point, although I felt a lot of pain coming from the general direction of my left foot every time we’d start up again after stopping for a quick stretch, drink, or bathroom break. I’ve found it’s better to lull my limbs into numbness. Stopping and starting just reminds them they don’t want to be running, I think.
I began the 6.4 miles back optimistically. “Just run home!” I told Kelly and Kevin. Seemed simple enough. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving - that’s all you have to do.
By the way, our pace was really solid through all of this - like a 10:40 or 10:50/mile pace which is right where we want to be. And Kelly, Kevin, and I had no problems sticking together until the very end when Kelly broke off to stretch her hips and finish up on her own. No worries there.
So anyway, we headed home. And this is when it got rough. I had three “low points,” which I will shamelessly share with you.
Low point #1 was around mile 16 when we had to stop for traffic at Navy Pier. I doubled over and half started crying. It just hurt. And I was so, so tired. I wanted to curl up in a ball right there on the sidewalk.
Low point #2 came about a mile later. Again, pain. A lot of it. I was handling it until I realized we were at mile 17 and while that meant only 3 more miles today, if it were the actual marathon I would still have 9 MORE MILES TO GO. That kind of thinking always gets me - stressing about what I have to do another day. Ignoring Kelly’s advice to “do today’s run” and don’t worry about the future. So again, I started to cry, but I quickly stopped because I realized a few weeks ago that the gasping that tends to accompany my marathon training tears does not make running easier. Not even a little - can you imagine?
Low point #3 came about 18 miles in, 2 from the end. You’d think I’d have seen the light at the end of the tunnel at this point, but no. My legs hurt. My stomach felt queasy. A strong wind was in my face. I just got to a point where I felt kind of desperate - that’s the best way to describe it. I told Kevin I had to slow down but then I didn’t. I half cried a little. Again. (This is all super cool when you’re on the busy Lakeshore Trail at 8 a.m., by the way.) I yelled “I can’t do this!” at one point. I remember trying to cope by singing the refrain of Katy Perry’s “Firework” to myself. (Soooo dorky. And to make it worse, I planned that ahead of time.) I also remember thinking, “Can’t, Can’t, Can’t,” with each stride and making myself switch to “Can. Can. Can.” instead.
Anyway.
I pulled myself together each time. Or at least kept going, as undignified as I may have looked. I’d say I’m embarrassed, but I’m just going to let that go. Running is hard, and I don’t want to apologize for pushing myself to the brink of my physical limitations.
When we hit mile 19, I started counting my strides. If I get to 100, I know from past experience that roughly a tenth of a mile will have passed when I look back at my watch. So I counted to 100. Then 200. Then 200 again. Then I just started obsessively checking my Garmin every few seconds. At 19.98 miles, I held my wrist in the air so Kevin could hear the final beep. When it sounded, I collapsed onto the grass, legs and arms stretched out - so unbelievably tired and so unbelievably happy. I laid there in the sunshine for a long time, then stretched a little, and before too long Kelly (smiling!) came around the bend. We cheered her toward the finish line, she gave me a high five, and we all walked home. (Which was a painful ordeal in and of itself.)
And then…
An ice bath. A hot shower. The special after-running lotion I bought myself as a treat. EATING WHATEVER I WANTED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY (potato pancakes eggs benedict was my brunch choice). Lots of water. A nap. A celebratory dinner and drinks at a place called Big Jones (love it).
And now it's done. The hardest run in our training program. We're down to 12 miles this Saturday, 8 after that. And then the marathon. Heaven help me.
What It Feels Like to Run 20 Miles:
My day started at 3:45 a.m. I hopped right out of bed, made coffee and peanut butter toast, and checked my blogs. Kevin got up at 4:10. We changed and met Kelly at 5.
We started running right at sunrise. It was, for the most part, a gorgeous morning. Chicago was looking fabulous.
We started out north on the Lakeshore Trail, ran from Belmont to Hollywood, turned around, and headed south, still on the trail. (We saw a COYOTE just south of Belmont Harbor!) The first 2 miles were good. 3-8 were my sweet spot, as usual. 9 and 10 were solid. Kelly and I commented on how easy it felt and how it was building our confidence for the REAL DEAL. Miles 11 and 12 were fine. We made it just beyond Adler Planetarium, turning around at exactly 13.6 miles. I was okay up to this point, although I felt a lot of pain coming from the general direction of my left foot every time we’d start up again after stopping for a quick stretch, drink, or bathroom break. I’ve found it’s better to lull my limbs into numbness. Stopping and starting just reminds them they don’t want to be running, I think.
I began the 6.4 miles back optimistically. “Just run home!” I told Kelly and Kevin. Seemed simple enough. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving - that’s all you have to do.
By the way, our pace was really solid through all of this - like a 10:40 or 10:50/mile pace which is right where we want to be. And Kelly, Kevin, and I had no problems sticking together until the very end when Kelly broke off to stretch her hips and finish up on her own. No worries there.
So anyway, we headed home. And this is when it got rough. I had three “low points,” which I will shamelessly share with you.
Low point #1 was around mile 16 when we had to stop for traffic at Navy Pier. I doubled over and half started crying. It just hurt. And I was so, so tired. I wanted to curl up in a ball right there on the sidewalk.
Low point #2 came about a mile later. Again, pain. A lot of it. I was handling it until I realized we were at mile 17 and while that meant only 3 more miles today, if it were the actual marathon I would still have 9 MORE MILES TO GO. That kind of thinking always gets me - stressing about what I have to do another day. Ignoring Kelly’s advice to “do today’s run” and don’t worry about the future. So again, I started to cry, but I quickly stopped because I realized a few weeks ago that the gasping that tends to accompany my marathon training tears does not make running easier. Not even a little - can you imagine?
Low point #3 came about 18 miles in, 2 from the end. You’d think I’d have seen the light at the end of the tunnel at this point, but no. My legs hurt. My stomach felt queasy. A strong wind was in my face. I just got to a point where I felt kind of desperate - that’s the best way to describe it. I told Kevin I had to slow down but then I didn’t. I half cried a little. Again. (This is all super cool when you’re on the busy Lakeshore Trail at 8 a.m., by the way.) I yelled “I can’t do this!” at one point. I remember trying to cope by singing the refrain of Katy Perry’s “Firework” to myself. (Soooo dorky. And to make it worse, I planned that ahead of time.) I also remember thinking, “Can’t, Can’t, Can’t,” with each stride and making myself switch to “Can. Can. Can.” instead.
Anyway.
I pulled myself together each time. Or at least kept going, as undignified as I may have looked. I’d say I’m embarrassed, but I’m just going to let that go. Running is hard, and I don’t want to apologize for pushing myself to the brink of my physical limitations.
When we hit mile 19, I started counting my strides. If I get to 100, I know from past experience that roughly a tenth of a mile will have passed when I look back at my watch. So I counted to 100. Then 200. Then 200 again. Then I just started obsessively checking my Garmin every few seconds. At 19.98 miles, I held my wrist in the air so Kevin could hear the final beep. When it sounded, I collapsed onto the grass, legs and arms stretched out - so unbelievably tired and so unbelievably happy. I laid there in the sunshine for a long time, then stretched a little, and before too long Kelly (smiling!) came around the bend. We cheered her toward the finish line, she gave me a high five, and we all walked home. (Which was a painful ordeal in and of itself.)
And then…
An ice bath. A hot shower. The special after-running lotion I bought myself as a treat. EATING WHATEVER I WANTED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY (potato pancakes eggs benedict was my brunch choice). Lots of water. A nap. A celebratory dinner and drinks at a place called Big Jones (love it).
And now it's done. The hardest run in our training program. We're down to 12 miles this Saturday, 8 after that. And then the marathon. Heaven help me.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Eeek! - Kelly
Sorry I've been such a delinquent blogger! Life has been B-U-S-Y!!! The marathon is 16 days away, I move into institute in 10 days, work is in full swing for the end of the year, and I've been trying to maintain some kind of social life between all the madness.
I promise a full marathon recap and pictures of my sweet dorm room at IIT once I get moved in. :)
I promise a full marathon recap and pictures of my sweet dorm room at IIT once I get moved in. :)
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