Running makes you lose your mind.

Because I vowed to be completely and totally honest throughout this training process, I'll come clean with y'all.  Up until this past weekend's run, I was STRUGGLING with the training.  Like, there were days when a flurry of obscenities would come streaming out of my mouth, tears would well up, and I just wanted to flat-out QUIT.  And then I really would cry because I felt like I was letting everyone down: Brian, my family, my friends, Ellie and her family, every amazing person who's donated to my fundraising, my coworker who's training to run as well, strangers who see me running and give me an encouraging smile and a thumbs up to keep going... I threw myself a big ole pity party and wallowed in it.  

Even worse, as much as I've come to look forward to my long runs, they were really affecting my mentality as well.  I'd make it about 8 miles into a 12 mile run and start to lose it a little bit.  I mean, let's face it-- running is very much an individual sport which is partly why I enjoy it so much.  I don't do so hot at team sports when everyone depends on everyone else. The solo runs, when my main concern is putting one foot in front of the other and breathing, I can do.  But when you're running alone for 2+ hours, it gets... LONELY.  There have been times in the last few runs in Scituate when I was making a loop past the ocean and started to see things.

Let me state that I am always thoroughly hydrated and fueled.  I have nothing to base what I saw on anything other than pure wishing and hoping that something could entertain me during the run.

The week that I ran 11 miles, I was having an awesome run.  Everything felt great, I had great energy, my music was perfect, the humidity had cut back-- ideal morning run conditions.  As I touched my foot to the end of one point in Scituate and started back the way that I'd come, I passed an elderly woman who was also running (Dear God of Knees, please keep mine in tip top shape and don't let them give out on me.  I'd love to still be running in my 70s.  Amen.) and after smiling and flashing my runners wave, I came up to what I consider one of the prettiest views in Scituate.  The house on this property is on a cliff and set back from the road, and as I run past the driveway I can look out and see the ocean, the beach, a whole different section of houses on the cliffs... at 7am, it's gorgeous.  

As I looked out over the shining, smooth water... I saw sea lions.  I swear to you, I saw sea lions.  I probably didn't, but I could have sworn I did.  I was excited to the point of looking around to see if the elderly woman I'd passed was close enough to me so that I could share the news with her because look!  Sea lions!  Swimming and leaping!  I looked, looked, and looked again and after concluding that I was only losing my mind and not seeing acrobatic sea lions, I continued on my way.

Four weeks ago, as I was closing in on the last couple of miles of my 13 mile run and seriously tired, I thought that the street signs were dancing.  DANCING.  I was on a windy road so when I saw this sign below the way that my eyes looked at it, the sign was dancing.  And I don't mean just the yellow sign-- I mean from the top of the arrow to the bottom of the pole, the thing was wiggling.  Even worse?  I was thoroughly amused and entertained.  Again, I glanced around to see if there was anyone nearby with whom I could share my amusement.

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The following week, also in Scituate, I was running along another ocean road as part of my 14 and, minus the buckle unhooking from my Camelbak which required a good 10 minute stop to repair it, I had found my rhythm and was loving the run.  

I was close enough to the water to hear the waves so I pulled my earbuds out and realized I was caught up in one of those moments that I truly run for-- when your body is completely in sync with your mind, your head is in the run and you're aware enough of what you're doing to get the miles done but you aren't focused on the miles (huge difference), and you're mentally just... there.  I was in the midst of the runners high that I love so much, that all runners love so much, the feeling that makes you keep going back for the pain and torture of training runs and tempo runs and track workouts.  The breeze was coming off of the ocean, I could hear the sand and gravel crunching as my sneakers steadily pounded away, and I couldn't help but grin as I realized how far I've come since the first day I tried to make it around the track for a mile without pause.

I continued down the road, all caught up in my pride and happiness, when I gazed out to the ocean and saw it.

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Well... I thought I saw it.  I was 150% convinced that I was watching a humpback whale breaching out of the water.  

mind = blown.  

Several different emotions and thoughts raced through my head at that moment.
1. Terror.  Whales terrify me.
2. Surprise.  A whale!  On my run!
3. Truth.  There's no way a whale could be THAT close to the beach and be leaping and breaching and such.
4. Excitement!  I can't wait to tell everyone that I saw a whale off of the beach!
5. Dismay.  People will think I'm crazy when I tell them I've seen a whale off of the beach.

I continued running down the road and kept looking over to the water to have a sanity check, but by that point, my concentration was thrown.  The rest of the run was semi-manageable but I was exhausted.  I mean... it's a lot to process when you realize you still have 7 miles to run and you've just seen a whale... or not.  Probably not.

In hindsight, it's a good thing that as badly as I wanted to chat with someone that I never had interaction with people when I temporarily lost my mind during run.  Scituate's a small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone watches each others backs: 

BEWARE OF CRAZY WHITE GIRL:  

Runs with water backpack, hot pink Nike hat, iPod full of Britney, Bruce and Bono, Gu Chomps in her pants.  Claims to see sea life off of town beaches.  If encountered, back away slowly: looks friendly but is in marathon training and temporarily loses all sanity.

I'm an athlete?

I'm pretty confident that I spent my entire childhood NOT running because I was afraid of what people might think.  

For those of you who spent hot, buggy Texas evenings watching me shuffle down the soccer field or grudgingly round the bases at softball, you can agree that I'm not exactly light-footed and graceful.  Seeing kids effortlessly fly past me only reinforced to my young self that ATHLETICISM?  I DIDN'T HAVE IT.  This is why I was on the dance team for four years of high school-- no running is required when sporting tasseled white boots, a petticoat and rhinestone cowboy hats.

I have never considered myself an athlete.  Athletes are graceful and move easily and are agile, and they are motivated to win!  They go all out every. time. and experience the thrill of a victory and the agony of defeat!  Um... yea, no.  I'm extremely competitive, yes.  I like to win and I like to be right, oh yes.  But I've just never had the drive to be the best on the playing field... or the track... or the tennis courts (7th grade PE credit, whoop whoop!).

When I started running a little over 4 years ago, Brian would go to the track with me to run and somehow evolved into my semi-coach.  After taking a walk break after an exhausting 1/4 mile of running (that would be ONE lap around the track, good gracious...), I would stop to walk, then kinda run, then walk again, then if I saw more people coming to the track, you could pretty much just consider me down for the count because there was NO WAY I was going to do the shuffle in front of spectators.  My lackadaisical routine must have a struck a nerve because he started telling me out of the blue to run a mile, just one mile, and then let myself walk.  And then as he walked away he told me that a jog isn't considered a jog unless both feet are always in motion, and that if I stopped to walk that that distance didn't count towards whatever distance I was aiming to complete.  As you can imagine, this went over extraordinarily well.  

So off I went, slowly making my way through four laps, making a concerted effort to have both feet in motion at all times.  If you close your eyes and think of that, you can probably picture me as a baby elephant trying to wobble forward.  I had no form, no posture, no idea how to breathe and not hyperventilate... it was a mess.  BUT I was moving.

Even now, just because I'm training to run a marathon and have learned how to do all of those things like breathe and pace myself and change how my feet strike if something feels funny and eat Gu Chomps mid-run and make sure my fists never clench and I run as if holding eggs in the palms of my hands... I still didn't feel like that qualified me as an "athlete."  And then I took to The Google:

athlete: a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina

Hm.  Are you wondering what the point of this blog is?  I was too, until just a moment ago-- completely lost track of where I was going.  Basically, I came across this picture today while perusing past NYC marathon stuff:

And I realized... I'm going to be running in front of thousands upon thousands of people lining the streets to cheer the marathoners on.  And I am one of the marathoners!  Mind. Blown.  On the days when I'm struggling with a run and even getting through three miles feels like torture because I JUST DON'T WANT TO, I try to remind myself of how far I've come:  from a clunky teenager who would stop jogging to walk when a car drove by, to a wannabe runner who couldn't make it two consecutive laps around a track, to an ATHLETE in her mid-20s who is training her bum off to run a marathon.  That is what I think they call "progress," my friends.

It's a struggle.

There are days when running just... stinks.  Big time.  I've trained for smaller races before and the highest mileage I ever really hit was between 3 and 5 miles, and by then I'd run the race and would go right back to maintenance miles, which were between 3 and 4 each time I'd run.

But now...  NOW it's constant.  Every day, there is a run.  When I wake up, I think about how many miles I have to run that day.  As the day goes by, I think about what I'm eating to fuel my body, if I'm drinking enough water to not get dehydrated, if I'm wearing the best shoes to support my weird 'n' crampy left arch.  When I get home, it's time management from the moment I get off of the train to get in my run, shower, cook, eat, try to breathe/relax for a moment, and head to bed to start over again.

I'm not an idiot-- I was very aware going into this that I'd be (literally) running my bum off.  But just like with any other workout, there are days when I'm loving the training and how good it makes me feel, how fit and strong I feel, etc.  It's REALLY fabulous to be hitting the distances that I'm running for long runs and not be, well... dead.  Because I totally thought I'd be crawling once I hit 10 miles.  Y'all, I wasn't even all that sore on Saturday.  It's fabulous because I know that I'm slowly training my body to be completely conditioned to take on a crazy goal, and it's working.  BUT for as many good days as there are, there might be three more bad ones.  There are days when I just don't want to do it.  The thought of doing anything else in the world as a physical activity OTHER THAN RUNNING is appealing.  

Since I'm being totally honest, there have been a couple of days where I just gave myself a break and didn't beat myself up about THE GUILT and didn't do anything at all.  I made sure that the days have been cross training or easy runs, never speedwork days or long runs.  I felt incredibly guilty about it at first, but after talking to fellow runners at work, they helped me to realize that if taking a day off to maintain my sanity is necessary, TAKE IT.  Training to put your body through 26.2 miles of running is crazy intense enough, and if you do it burnt out and exhausted, you're more likely to get tired of it in general, not to mention hurt yourself, not train at your full potential... and so forth.

At the end of the day, I know that training for a marathon is hard-- if it were easy, it'd be a lot less of an accomplishment to have crossed the finish line, and a heck of a lot more people would do it.  And I knew I'd hit bumps during training-- it's totally normal to be angry when you read the word "Fartlek" and have to wear sneakers to commute in because your foot hurts and know that by Saturday afternoon you'll have run 25 miles and that your body will be TIRED.  

But in the end, I know it will so be worth it!

In other running news...

I ran my 10 mile long run on Saturday.  

It was horrific... because it was on the treadmill.  

As I'd mentioned, my arch in my left foot has been bothering me, so I've been babying my foot a little bit until my appointment with Sports Medicine this Thursday afternoon.  I didn't want to run 5 miles out from the car and have my foot start bothering me... so I chose to run on the treadmill.  Even with a good night's sleep, tons of water and my energy Gu, it was a tough run.  Physically, I felt great.  Mentally, the games-- they were a-playin'.  

When I do long runs outside, it's easy to pick something else to focus on when I'm struggling, even if it's making it to the next street sign, then that red car, then the big building... and once I'm there, I'm usually past the little wall that was trying to shut me down.  But on the treadmill, the only things you have are your body, that rubber belt under your feet, and whatever sight you're seeing directly in front of you (for me, a big pretty window... that opens to the warm, sunny courtyard... that backs up to a building.  Not exactly inspiring.)  Knowing it would be a trying run, I had downloaded a movie to my Kindle but not even Bridget Jones could help me through this one.  Bridget nor Hugh nor Colin in all of their British man glory-- fail fail fail.  

It can also really mess up your rhythm when the treadmill only allows you to run 60 minutes at a time, so since I was running for over an hour and a half, I had to time it to catch the distance and time up enough with each other so they'd be at a sort of round number when I got to 60.  As if I want to play with math at a time like that while trying to breathe, not trip, not gasp too loudly-- balls to that.

BUT I made it.  And I tried my second form and flavor of Gu.  My current favorite are the Gu Chomps, watermelon flavor.  They're gummy but not overly chewy, so if you can get past nearly choking when first sampling while running, you're gold!

Watermelon Gu Chomps: 

This weekend I tried an actual Gu gel, strawberry banana flavor... and about died.  The flavor, the consistency, the sweetness-- gah, I have chills just writing about it.  It was awful.  It did it's job, but I will not be relying on the gel for my runs any longer.

Off to make friends with my Fartleks.

I ran a Niner. And it stunk.

Last Saturday morning, I ran nine miles.  9.  NINE.  I'm not really sure how to describe it, even though admitting that is like breaking the first cardinal rule of blogging.  Brian and I had been chatting and running the longer distances close to our apartment was getting to be really difficult.  Pretty much any way you turn, the roads are really busy and the sidewalks are cracked and crumbly (that doesn't paint a pretty picture for my Texans, I'd imagine...), so it's hard to get into a long run and kind of zone out.  It's safe (and I always carry my runners mace-- thanks Jannie) and all but it's just... hard.  And running lots of miles is hard enough, so why add more obstacles?

The final straw kind of came when I ran my 8 miler.  There's this one section of sidewalk along my route that is AWFUL.  It also just happens to be along the busiest street in our town.  It's all driveways split with cracked cement mixed with dirt mounds... obviously the best running surface out there.  When I run this part, I definitely think of it as my trail run and am leaping and bounding to land in the right spots.  In my head, I look like Katniss from The Hunger Games, sprinting through the forest (there are totally trees and branches and vines): 

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Alas, Katniss I am not, so I try to block out what passersby are thinking as the girl in hot pink leaps along as Kanye sings in her ear.  Guarantee I'm not looking as light-footed as I feel.  Anyways, the last run I did along that road I landed funny and almost twisted my ankle.  I was also exhausted and dehydrated, so that probably played a part as well.  But I decided I was DONE with that long run route.

Since my Saturday mornings consist of trips to Target and Trader Joe's in Hanover anyways, we decided it would make sense for me to start running in Scituate.  So this past Friday I laid out everything I would need for the next morning (again with the lies about just lacing your sneaks and running out the front door!): my clothes, shoes, FIFTEEN DOLLAR running socks, iPod case, headphones, a packet of Gu Chomps, sunscreen, my Camelbak backpack was filled with water and in the fridge chilling, and my iPod was charging.  My alarm went off at 6:30 Saturday morning and I was off. 

I was feeling really proud of myself and excited on my drive down and maybe a little emotional (why?  Because I'm Katie.) because I definitely got completely choked up as I was singing along to this song on the radio:

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I kid you not.  Couldn't get the words out.  

As I pulled into the parking lot I'd mapped out and at that moment, it occurred to me that I felt like an official runner, like a pre-marathoner.  I tucked my Gu and car key into my Camelbak and buckled myself in: 

Let me tell you, it's even more attractive ON.  With my iPod on and my hat adjusted, I was off.  I'd already mapped out my distance so I knew where I was heading.

Can I just say now that when you drive a distance, you never really think about how far it actually is?  For all of you Scitutes, in my head I knew I had to run from the driftway Dunkin Donuts, loop Peggotty, loop the Lighthouse then run straight back down the Driftway.  EASY STUFF. 

Wrong.  An easy route, yes.  Flat and smooth and easy to zone out?  Absolutely.  Did I hit any walls during my run?  About a million.  Thoughts that went through my head?

Miles 1-3: 

It's buggy.  

The humidity is gross.  

It's foggy. 

Love the smell of that sea bree-- why the eff does it smell like clam chowder?

*Hit Peggotty's incline and took a Gu*

There is NO WAY I'm running this hill.

I AM FLYING!!

Miles 4-6:

My nose is itching.  

My ankle hurts.  

The arch of my left foot hurts.  

I wonder if I'll see anyone I know.

Save some energy to sprint through the Harbor and look impressive.

*Realized I'm an idiot for sprinting through the Harbor and took 2 Gu*

That old man just passed you.

Ooh, I love running by the Lighthouse.

Cute dog!

That old man just passed you again.

Miles 7-9: 

I'm dead.  DEAD.  There's no way I'm going to run 26.2 miles!

*Hit the Harbor and took 2 Gu*
I'M FLYING!  I HOPE I SEE SOMEONE I KNOW!  I'M TOTALLY GOING TO BE THAT ANNOYING MOM SOMEDAY WHO RUNS WHILE EFFORTLESSLY PUSHING THREE KIDS IN A RUNNING STROLLER!

Training ain't pretty, my friends.  Once I hit the 8.5, I knew I was good and just slowly enjoyed the last little bit of the run.  It wasn't terrible but could have been better; it wasn't awesome but could have been way worse.  Regardless, I finished 9 miles.  My legs were rubber when I got back to the Jeep, but I felt amazing.  

I've had a weird cramp on and off in the arch of my left foot for the last week and have an appointment this Thursday with Sports Medicine, so I'm hoping to get that little issue squared away.  Just to be safe though, I'm sticking to the treadmill at the apartment for tomorrow's long run in case it starts to flare up.  I do not need to get stuck 5 miles away from the car and hobble 5 miserable miles back-- no thank you!  So, I'll be making friends with Sandy tomorrow morning-- my current movie is The Blindside.  It makes me cry and laugh and forget the fact that I'm a hamster in a spinny wheel for the next hour and a half.

Happy weekend!

Meet Ellie!

Friends, family, bloggers, supporters... 

Meet Ellie!

This would be the sweet little girl who I've been matched with and will be running the marathon for as part of the Patient Partner Program!  Ellie and her mom mailed me an info sheet that all runners and patients fill out about each other, and then we swap to learn a bit about who we're paired with!  

Ellie's Favorites

Animal: Kitty cat

TV Show: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse

Food: Pasta (I'm with her on that one!)

Game: Basketball

Things that she likes to do for fun: Swimming

Things that make her the happiest: Diving in the pool!

Ellie is excited to be a part of the program because: I like running!

I could just melt.  I cannot wait to meet this little one!

If you're interested in the answers to MY questionnaire, let me just say that it's difficult to spin adult favorites into something a three year old will understand.  For instance, my favorite movie?  Either The Godfather, Steel Magnolias, or A Christmas Story.  Kid-friendly version? Elf!  My favorite TV show?  Currently Breaking Bad.  Kid-friendly? Friends!  

The absolutely honest answer to a question?

I am excited to be part of this program because: I love to run and am so excited to be matched with Ellie-- every mile is for her!

THAT is the God-honest truth.

In fundraising news, I am officially HALFWAY to my goal of $3000!!  

I am blown away every day by the generosity of the people who know me in so many different ways: my family, Brian's family, my best friends, friends that I've made since moving to Boston and Brian's friends who I consider my own as well, coworkers, my parents' coworkers, people who work in the hospital and see "I'm running the ING New York City Marathon for Boston Children's Hospital!" in my email signature and randomly reach out... it is amazing what people will come together to support when the cause is as amazing as what the Miles for Miracles team stands for.

If you would like to sponsor me, I invite you to stop by my fundraising page!  

http://howtohelp.childrenshospital.org/newyork/page/Katherine-Fox.htm

Thank you so much to all of you who have contributed already-- I love you all!

Happy weekend, my lovelies.  Tomorrow morning awaits me with a 10 miler on the schedule-- whoop!

Ellie: The sweet patient who's making this crazy training worth it!

Yesterday morning I woke up to an email saying that I had officially been matched with my Boston Children's Hospital patient, as part of the Patient Partner Program.  Her name is Ellie, she's 3 years old and she has been a patient at Boston Children's since before birth.  I am SO excited and can't wait to find out more about this little girl, and will potentially share more information and her photo after I chat with her mom and she confirms how much info she would like to be shared.  She is adorable and seems so full of life, and that little spark in her eye is exactly what I have been needing!  

One of the biggest reasons that I chose to be matched with a patient is I knew that even on the darkest days of running, when the last thing that I want to do is lace up my sneakers and head out the door, I could think of this little one who I had been matched with and my annoyances at the moment would become so insignificant, I would realize I had no reason NOT to be training.  As I've mentioned before, my excuses can either be mindblowingly awesome or painfully pathetic, ranging from "My running capris feel snug... I'll just sit on the couch a few more minutes to make them more comfy" (pathetic) to "That 8 mile run on Sunday made my knee feel a little twitchy... Perhaps I should not run today and RICE it" (awesome).

The thing is, at the end of the day I can guarantee that whatever I'm going through is a heck of a lot less troubling and difficult than what sweet Ellie and the majority of the other patients at BCH have gone through, are currently working through, or will spend the rest of their lives trying to manage.  

It all brings me back to my reason for running for my hospital.  Yes, at the beginning, it was a convenience-- I saw an ad on our intraweb about running with Miles for Miracles so I sent off the application thinking I'd never hear back from anyone.  But the moment that I was offered a spot and began to read about the impact that this team has on patients and their care, I knew that I had chosen well.  I can't walk through the main hospital now without looking at awfully sick little ones and thinking "You.  Today's miles were run for you."  Every dollar that I have raised, every mile that I have run has been and will be for them.  And let me tell you-- it's a pretty amazing feeling to know that I'm playing a small part in making a big impact.

If my marathon were a movie (and Sandra Bullock played me because... obviously!), when I cross the finish line on November 4th a little montage would play, showing every sweet little face that I've seen, the faces that match to the names that match to the stories of the patients to whom I'm dedicating four months of my life.  Actually, I'm pretty positive that this will happen regardless of the fact that a) my life is not a movie and b) Sandy will not be crossing the finish line--I will.  Some of you who know me well may also know that I love a good montage and that a GREAT montage can send me right into tears.  Since I'm already preparing to cry my eyes out when I finish, the thought of not only what I've accomplished but who I've accomplished it for will make the end THAT much sweeter.  It's this part of the training that makes the end result SO much more worth it, and that, my friends, is exciting.

The key to 8 miles is distraction!

Yesterday morning, I conquered my dreaded 8 miles.  For the past few weeks, while I was working out the schedule adjustments with the Level 1/Level 2 combo/switch, I was experiencing intense doubts of both confidence and capability... as in I was confident that I was not capable of running 8 miles.

Maybe it was maintaining my mileage during the week but drastically bringing the long run mileage down.

Maybe it was successfully running a tiny bit over 7 last weekend and although I nearly fainted from not hydrating enough, I felt like I could run forever.

Maybe it was all of the Olympic coverage of the marathoners and distance runners-- if they can run 10,000 kilometers and not even break a sweat, surely I can run 8 miles at a slower pace than normal.

Maybe (more likely than any other reason) it was the fact that I knew at some point, people were going to get sick of hearing me say "Oh yea... I'll get to 8... soon.  Just gotta work up the endurance a little more!  Almost there!"

So with that in mind, I headed to the gym yesterday morning to face my demons.  Now, I'd like to take a moment to reiterate how intensely I dislike the treadmill.  With a passion.  Of a million fires and all of that jazz.  Running on a belt and staring at the wall is incomparable to getting outside and having constantly changing scenery to distract you.  I knew that if I was going to survive the run, I had to bring in the big guns:

That's right.  Two episodes of Lorelai and Rory Gilmore coached me through my run on my Kindle.  And I gotta tell you, the miles FLEW by.  It's important to me to run outside as much as possible since the marathon is obviously not run on a treadmill, but it's nice to know that when the going gets tough, I can bring in the crew from Stars Hollow to pep it up.

Positives from this past week?  Very little soreness, even though I racked up a total of 22 miles, which is crazy to even think about having run.  Also, 8 miles equals 1252 calories burned-- yes to that!

Negatives? The humidity.  And I tried Gu Chomps, watermelon flavored.  The pro was that I loved the flavor and didn't have issues with an aftertaste or anything.  Con?  I nearly choked/suffocated trying to chew, swallow, and breathe all at once.  Doing this while sitting, yes.  While running?  Add it to my list of "Things I must get used to."

On the schedule for this week...
M: 4 easy miles
T: 4 mile Fartlek
W: Rest
Th: 3 mile tempo run + 1-2 mile WU/CD
F: XT 60 minutes
S: 9 mile long run

Swing by my Fundraising Page!!

http://howtohelp.childrenshospital.org/newyork/page/Katherine-Fox.htm