EVER. I was a Mile Monster!
There was no struggling. No negative thoughts. No why am I doing this? No stopping to “fix” my shoe. I could have run an entire marathon. And PRed.
Why don’t they have any marathons the day after Thanksgiving? Is it because we’d shatter world records? Because I turned into a Kenyan today and there are three contributing factors:
What, you don’t eat stuffing and string beans in your ice bath? I DO WHAT I WANT! And after 20 miles, I want stuffing. I dropped a string bean in the tub and started yelling, “man down, MAN DOWN!”
When I started this tumblr account I was training for my first half marathon. I knew nothing about Gu, the importance of Bodyglide, or what my body was capable of.
I ran four halfs, then toed the line of my first marathon. I learned that doubling the race distance meant doubling ALL the training- who knew? Easy runs CAN be double digit- what?. Twenty milers and ice baths are like pancakes and syrup. I relearned the importance of Bodyglide. I stopped using the word “can’t.”
There were more halfs and fulls in unseasonable heat waves, and then an olympic triathlon slipped in- the NYC Triathlon. I drank Hudson water, dropped my chain twice on the Westside Highway, and wanted to toss my cookies one mile into the run. It was the most fun I’ve ever experienced in a race. I wore a permanent smile for the next three days.
This past September, I crossed the finish of a 70.3. It was challenging. In. So. Many. Ways. Probably the hardest thing I’ve done to date. Definitely the most rewarding.
You know what’s coming, right?
I had to.
Ironman Mont Tremblant in 2014. Canada, I’m coming for you!
Don’t mind me, I’m just chiseling some ice for one of my epic ice baths.
You know you’re in for it when you’re only two miles in and your legs are all ehh, I’m not feeling this so much. Goofy training requires back to back runs….I’m not a fan. Nor are my hip flexors. I ran 10 yesterday and did 20 today, but when I got to mile 10, my legs were like, yo, that makes 20 in a 24 hour period. We are done.
Made it through. Weirdest thing is that I usually start off strong and fade. This time I crumbled for the first 15 miles but then turned it around. My mental game in the last two miles was ON POINT!
Lots of friendly honking in those last miles. I interpreted this to mean, “woman, get your ass home and have a big bowl of macaroni and cheese.”
A while ago a friend was going on a date with a guy none of us knew. There were a lot of jokes about stranger danger, axe murders, and the Craigslist Killer at her expense. An hour before the date we had the following conversation:
Me: You’ve got a tattoo on your back and one on your foot, right?
Me: Which foot?
Her: Left. Why?
Me: When you sit down for dinner immediately tell him you have distinguishing marks and friends who WILL look for you. Then smile, pick up the menu and say, “so what’s good here?”
It’s become a joke we toss around. Well today I was running a 9 miler when I approached a car parked in the shoulder. I knew the driver was going to talk to me, I could just feel it.
"Excuse me!" He yelled. I pretended not to hear him over my headphones. He yelled again, this time so loud it woke people in comas. I stopped.
He asked for directions to the penitentiary.
I HAVE DISTINGUISHING MARKS AND FRIENDS WHO WILL LOOK FOR ME!!!
Remember when Skittles made a poor life decision and replaced the lime with apple and you thought why do bad things happen to good candy?
Well, I found them! They are back and as glorious as ever.
Note that I have no idea what “dark berry” is but promise it is not that icky grape that tastes like Dimetapp which can be found in the crappy Skittles Originals.
Saturday I had 8 miles on the schedule and 17 on Sunday. I was pretty excited about this. My runs have actually been going really well, but I was mostly looking forward to the cut-back week that would be welcoming me at the conclusion of that 17 miler. I’ve been eyeing that lower milage week like I look at carrot cake - unblinking, and with drool.
Saturday I bageled-up. Egg everything with butter (not important to the story, but super delicious) and drank my weight in water. Then I proceeded to throw my back out wrestling with a bureau drawer. Yes.
So I spent my weekend laying in bed with many packs of ice and medicated to the high heavens. I passed the time searching for Hocus Pocus on TV -which was not on the weekend before Halloween (sacrilegious if you ask me)- and muttering about being a half ironman and how these sissy vertebrates must not belong to me.
So I’m redoing last week. I hope.
I’m most excited about reliving the egg everything bagel part.
Did the ROC Race this weekend. It’s like Wipe-Out meets Wild & Crazy Kids. There was a bounce house, monkey bars, a wrecking ball obstacle, and lots and lots of foam.
We dressed up as Legends of the Hidden Temple participants, complete with authentic name tags and Pendants of Life.
When I felt teammates weren’t moving fast enough I yelled out, “C’mon, do it for the boom box WITH DUAL CASSETTE DECKS!” and “Do you NOT want to go to SPACE CAMP?!” There were also numerous references to the Shrine of the Silver Money and Temple Guards.
And I’m booming with pride when I tell you that I OWNED that wrecking ball obstacle and did not get knocked into the freezing cold water! It might be my proudest accomplishment of all time. I kept passing drenched racers and then pointed to my dry clothes, “I’m making it to the temple. Space Camp is in the bag!”
When on the bike, sometimes people will honk their car horn before they pass. I know they think this is an excellent way to warn me that a car is approaching. It’s not. I expect cars to come up behind me frequently, as I am on a road in which vehicles travel. Honking usually just causes me to tense up and bike through a super deep pothole.
I have no idea what the honk means when I’m running. I know I’m definitely not in your way. Are you being creepy? Are you a fellow runner? Do you not want me to run on the sidewalk? Seriously, are you a creeper? WHAT IS IT???
Cowbelled the hell outta the course.
Cowbelled with such enthusiasm and dedication that I drew blood.
Cowbelled for two more hours.