I realize that these words don't mean crap when it comes to training and goals for me. Whenever I say "I'm going to try and run today" it really means I'm not committed to running and that there's a high likeliness that it just ain't going to happen. Whenever I say "I'm thinking about running today" or "I'm going to think about signing up for that race" or "I think I'll meet the running club tonight" it means I'm open to any lame excuse to ditch and will likely only commit if the opportunity falls straight into my lap. And the fact that I "want" to run an ultra really means that I'm kicking the idea around in my head. That I'm just considering it.
I am learning that it's kind of the same for others. I am not sure if they realize it yet- and I don't know if I need to be the one to point it out...
If you are merely going to try or think about it or you just kind of want to and you are not keeping a commitment to yourself to put in the work to make it happen, guess what..?
Thinking about it, trying to make it happen, and wanting to make it happen doesn't work.
I've decided not to waste my time (or anyone else's) with what I "think" I might "want" to "try" when it comes to such goals. If I'm not putting the effort in, and if I haven't kept a commitment to reach such goals, I'm full of shit. And I don't mean to be. But it's the truth. I know that reality does limit me in some ways- I "want" to do an Ironman triathlon, but as a self taught cyclist and swimmer, I would need to pay someone for some serious coaching (and pool access, oh and I would need a bike too, huh?) and that's not in my time or money budget right now...
I've proven to myself that I want to finish this marathon. I can tell because ever since the 18 mile training run a few weeks ago, I have not had a single pleasant, easy run. Yet I manage to get out there and keep my commitment and stay on my training schedule even though running is kind of brutal for me right now. I want this marathon more than I want a good excuse to stay home and skip a training run. I'm tapering now (HOOOOORAAAY) and my legs feel like lead weights. I'm sunburned from the 20 mile run without sunscreen. It's hot all the time. I have poison ivy from the trails at that mud race. I keep getting stomach cramps in the final miles of a run. It sucks. But I'm out there. And I make sure those miles are done. Hey, perhaps I should take this level of commitment into other aspects of my life. That novel I'm trying to finish writing, the rooms in my house that I'm thinking about painting, the sewing I want to do...
5/31/11
5/28/11
Remember your first....
...your first mile, that is...
I wonder how many people do. I see the landmark to mine all the time.
I have been running (with occasional bouts of just sitting around intending to or planning on or thinking about running) for 13 years. I started when my first son was around 9 months old. I started here at this very same boardwalk that I now run regularly. I drove in my car and mentally marked the distance. This fountain marked one mile.
I would go out in the evening and run. Something deep within me told me I was going to do this. I would take it lamp post by lamp post or bench by bench on that boardwalk. I struggled and walked a lot. Each time I went out, I committed to going just a little bit further. Just one lamp post further than the last time. Then one more. And TWO MONTHS LATER (that is right- it took me two months) I could run all the way to this fountain. A WHOLE MILE. No one told me I could or couldn't. No one dissuaded or encouraged me. Night after night I watched others who seemingly glided on that boardwalk, running with ease that seemed impossible and intangible to me. I remember that first whole mile. How hard it was. How I held back tears when I reached that fountain. How I marveled at my accomplishment. How I experienced that rare feeling of elation and pride. I did it and no one else could take it (or the credit) away from me.
I run by this fountain (from my current starting point it is .65 of one mile)during every out-and-back run on the boardwalk that I do. A few days ago, when I ran 20 miles, it is what fueled the last burst of energy that allowed me to finish that long grueling run. I saw the fountain and the water shimmering in the afternoon sun and I remembered the glory of FINALLY reaching it. I remembered the person I was- at twenty two years old- and that fiery excitement that I felt when I stopped at that fountain after running all the way there for the first time. That girl would've never believed it if someone told her that she would be training for a marathon someday. In this self deprecating society, there's not much room for moments like this. Weary, irritable, exhausted, sweat drenched and sunburned at 19.35 miles, this was my moment. I became my own hero. I was proud, joyful, triumphant.
That first mile made this twenty possible. It proved to me that I could do anything if I gave it my best effort. It made me believe in myself and not need the reassurance and approval of others. It made me realize that most of our limits are self imposed. 15 days until my marathon. There is no "I think" or "I hope" or "I want" to finish. I will.
I wonder how many people do. I see the landmark to mine all the time.
I have been running (with occasional bouts of just sitting around intending to or planning on or thinking about running) for 13 years. I started when my first son was around 9 months old. I started here at this very same boardwalk that I now run regularly. I drove in my car and mentally marked the distance. This fountain marked one mile.
I would go out in the evening and run. Something deep within me told me I was going to do this. I would take it lamp post by lamp post or bench by bench on that boardwalk. I struggled and walked a lot. Each time I went out, I committed to going just a little bit further. Just one lamp post further than the last time. Then one more. And TWO MONTHS LATER (that is right- it took me two months) I could run all the way to this fountain. A WHOLE MILE. No one told me I could or couldn't. No one dissuaded or encouraged me. Night after night I watched others who seemingly glided on that boardwalk, running with ease that seemed impossible and intangible to me. I remember that first whole mile. How hard it was. How I held back tears when I reached that fountain. How I marveled at my accomplishment. How I experienced that rare feeling of elation and pride. I did it and no one else could take it (or the credit) away from me.
I run by this fountain (from my current starting point it is .65 of one mile)during every out-and-back run on the boardwalk that I do. A few days ago, when I ran 20 miles, it is what fueled the last burst of energy that allowed me to finish that long grueling run. I saw the fountain and the water shimmering in the afternoon sun and I remembered the glory of FINALLY reaching it. I remembered the person I was- at twenty two years old- and that fiery excitement that I felt when I stopped at that fountain after running all the way there for the first time. That girl would've never believed it if someone told her that she would be training for a marathon someday. In this self deprecating society, there's not much room for moments like this. Weary, irritable, exhausted, sweat drenched and sunburned at 19.35 miles, this was my moment. I became my own hero. I was proud, joyful, triumphant.
That first mile made this twenty possible. It proved to me that I could do anything if I gave it my best effort. It made me believe in myself and not need the reassurance and approval of others. It made me realize that most of our limits are self imposed. 15 days until my marathon. There is no "I think" or "I hope" or "I want" to finish. I will.
5/25/11
WAAAAAAAAHHHHH... I CAAAANNNNN'TTTT
Can't really means won't when it comes to training.
I was supposed to run 20 miles today. My last obscenely long run before the marathon. However...
I was up late last night.
I didn't sleep all that well.
I found out my parents were in a bad accident yesterday.
My son has a BIG track meet after school.
My house is kind of a mess.
It was already 74 degrees at 7:45 am.
I need to buy new shorts for hot weather.
I woke up kinda late this morning.
I can always do it tomorrow. I have time tomorrow...
My stomach feels weird.
I'm not feeling my best today............
JUST KIDDING! I DID IT!
But don't you know there's ALWAYS a "good" excuse not to work toward a goal... Always. What's your excuse????
This run truly humbled me. It took every granule of will to complete. This was by far the most difficult run I have ever experienced in my life- and I chose my "back yard" a.k.a. the boardwalk as my route, thinking it would make it easier. I was certain that this would make it easier. By mile 17 I had to keep visualizing the end and imagining how it would feel to walk back into my house after this grueling voluntary torture. I had to picture the relief of being in a cold shower and then in bed. I fought the desire to quit early and made quick peace with the fact that I had to walk a little. I also visualized the option of quitting early and how that would feel. I realized there was no way I could accept quitting comfortably. I knew I could cover the distance- even if I had to walk the last few miles. Without question, I can do it. So I decided that nothing would change and that I'd finish.
20 miles in 3 hours 49 minutes. Decent training pace. A bit slower than I wanted, but with all the walk breaks I took, I believe walked about one full mile. I stopped to refill my water 3 times, stopped to buy a gatorade once, had 2 bathroom stops, and slowed down twice for the typical "wardrobe malfunction" that seems to be an integral part of any long run for me. By mile 16, I was feeling a little nauseous. I was concerned about heat exhaustion. (It was close to 80 degrees so that means my body felt like it was 100 degrees. I can do shorter distances in this heat without even thinking about it. But 20 miles seems to be a completely different song and dance.) I also had two very unusual cramps that did not want to leave: one in my stomach and one by my right lung. I'm still trying to decide if this was more difficult than natural child birth. I think it was...
I was supposed to run 20 miles today. My last obscenely long run before the marathon. However...
I was up late last night.
I didn't sleep all that well.
I found out my parents were in a bad accident yesterday.
My son has a BIG track meet after school.
My house is kind of a mess.
It was already 74 degrees at 7:45 am.
I need to buy new shorts for hot weather.
I woke up kinda late this morning.
I can always do it tomorrow. I have time tomorrow...
My stomach feels weird.
I'm not feeling my best today............
JUST KIDDING! I DID IT!
But don't you know there's ALWAYS a "good" excuse not to work toward a goal... Always. What's your excuse????
This run truly humbled me. It took every granule of will to complete. This was by far the most difficult run I have ever experienced in my life- and I chose my "back yard" a.k.a. the boardwalk as my route, thinking it would make it easier. I was certain that this would make it easier. By mile 17 I had to keep visualizing the end and imagining how it would feel to walk back into my house after this grueling voluntary torture. I had to picture the relief of being in a cold shower and then in bed. I fought the desire to quit early and made quick peace with the fact that I had to walk a little. I also visualized the option of quitting early and how that would feel. I realized there was no way I could accept quitting comfortably. I knew I could cover the distance- even if I had to walk the last few miles. Without question, I can do it. So I decided that nothing would change and that I'd finish.
20 miles in 3 hours 49 minutes. Decent training pace. A bit slower than I wanted, but with all the walk breaks I took, I believe walked about one full mile. I stopped to refill my water 3 times, stopped to buy a gatorade once, had 2 bathroom stops, and slowed down twice for the typical "wardrobe malfunction" that seems to be an integral part of any long run for me. By mile 16, I was feeling a little nauseous. I was concerned about heat exhaustion. (It was close to 80 degrees so that means my body felt like it was 100 degrees. I can do shorter distances in this heat without even thinking about it. But 20 miles seems to be a completely different song and dance.) I also had two very unusual cramps that did not want to leave: one in my stomach and one by my right lung. I'm still trying to decide if this was more difficult than natural child birth. I think it was...
5/23/11
Mud....
I ran as Lara Croft this Saturday at the Runamuck festival in Titusville New Jersey. My teammates were Rambo, Indiana Jones, and the Terminator. We had a great time. It didn't feel like running to me- it was more of a fun bout through the forest that involved a willingness to get really really muddy. One of the spray painted water pistols fell out of my holster in the first mud pit. Midway through the run, I couldn't use my hands to wipe my brow to keep sweat from going into my eyes. I had to borrow the only clean space on the back of Indiana Jones' shirt. No one pulled a groin muscle or twisted an ankle, but Rambo (a non-runner) suffered 2 severe blisters on his toes because he opted to run in old work boots. I think we may do this again next year...
5/18/11
the work.......
My marathon is less than a month away. According to Hal I have one more absurdly long run (20 miles)before the race. I am at the point where I know I'm as ready as I am going to be. I've given this marathon training as much as I could considering the fact that I have a life and responsibilities outside of training.
I'm excited. I keep picturing the finish. I keep picturing the miles in between- 12, 15, 21, 23... and I try and imagine what will be going through my mind that might help me maintain the peace and determination that will carry me to the finish. Although I'm a bit of a realist and I seldom float on a "isn't life wonderful" cloud, I have learned how to seek out and find the things in life that truly are wonderful. To savor those things and examine them closely. To memorize the extraordinary detail so when you need something to bring joy to your heart, you can pick up this memory and let it flow through you. This is what I find myself doing now. When I experience or witness something, I'll try and store it in my mind so that I can ponder it while I'm running.
I keep looking for "the wall". I would like to feel what that feels like during training so that I am better prepared for it during the marathon. During an 18 mile run I did 2 weeks ago, after about mile 14 I kept imagining the consequences of ending the run early. I imagined making a phone call- asking to be picked up and having to explain myself. "I just don't feel like running anymore... no, no... I'm not in severe pain. I'm not dehydrated... No, I'm not ailing in any significant way. I'm just... uhh...kinda achy and bored...so can you come pick me up?" Is that the wall? It didn't stop me. Is the wall when you submit to walking for a couple of minutes? I don't think so... I have planned for walk breaks and do welcome them. Maybe during the 20 mile training run I'll hit my wall and enjoy quoting this paragraph and laughing at myself. I secretly hope that I do not have a wall.
I keep looking at other marathoners finish times and wondering if my goal time is realistic. This isn't the only marathon I will run, so I'm not too intent on my desired time. Just like I told my youngest son yesterday "In order to get good at something, you have to be willing to suck at it for awhile." I happened to say this while we were watching my oldest son practice for his track meet. His discus throws were inconsistent and he was taking a lot of risks with his technique. My youngest boy asked me why he was changing his technique, and I was able to explain how multiple attempts and failures are the best path to success. So if this marathon sucks, I'm ok with it. It's the first of many.
I'm excited. I keep picturing the finish. I keep picturing the miles in between- 12, 15, 21, 23... and I try and imagine what will be going through my mind that might help me maintain the peace and determination that will carry me to the finish. Although I'm a bit of a realist and I seldom float on a "isn't life wonderful" cloud, I have learned how to seek out and find the things in life that truly are wonderful. To savor those things and examine them closely. To memorize the extraordinary detail so when you need something to bring joy to your heart, you can pick up this memory and let it flow through you. This is what I find myself doing now. When I experience or witness something, I'll try and store it in my mind so that I can ponder it while I'm running.
I keep looking for "the wall". I would like to feel what that feels like during training so that I am better prepared for it during the marathon. During an 18 mile run I did 2 weeks ago, after about mile 14 I kept imagining the consequences of ending the run early. I imagined making a phone call- asking to be picked up and having to explain myself. "I just don't feel like running anymore... no, no... I'm not in severe pain. I'm not dehydrated... No, I'm not ailing in any significant way. I'm just... uhh...kinda achy and bored...so can you come pick me up?" Is that the wall? It didn't stop me. Is the wall when you submit to walking for a couple of minutes? I don't think so... I have planned for walk breaks and do welcome them. Maybe during the 20 mile training run I'll hit my wall and enjoy quoting this paragraph and laughing at myself. I secretly hope that I do not have a wall.
I keep looking at other marathoners finish times and wondering if my goal time is realistic. This isn't the only marathon I will run, so I'm not too intent on my desired time. Just like I told my youngest son yesterday "In order to get good at something, you have to be willing to suck at it for awhile." I happened to say this while we were watching my oldest son practice for his track meet. His discus throws were inconsistent and he was taking a lot of risks with his technique. My youngest boy asked me why he was changing his technique, and I was able to explain how multiple attempts and failures are the best path to success. So if this marathon sucks, I'm ok with it. It's the first of many.
5/6/11
without words
I do not typically wave my personal beliefs flag around when I ramble publicly in writing or in person. I'm not ashamed or afraid to share- perhaps it's kind of for the same reason that I don't jump on my husband's (or my son's) facebook page and say go on and on with love and praise. If I have a personal relationship, I don't have a desire to broadcast my emotions to the world. I believe that my actions and my deeds will show how I feel. Words are just so over used. I can say "thank you" when a cashier accepts payment and gives me change and I can say the same words when someone risks their own life to save mine. I think there's some injustice there. Totally not the same.
That preamble was supposed to lead in to the fact that I ran the Long Island Half Marathon on Sunday. In earlier posts, I shared that I always run with purpose. It's never JUST about running. I had to find reason for this half marathon. I needed something to fuel me and make the distance and time worthwhile. My first marathon is just about a month away and I kind of had no business trying to run a PR half.
I believe that prayers are heard. It concerns me that most people think that prayer is all about asking for favors from God. It isn't all about a wish list. I cannot imagine how it would make me feel to ask over and over and over for what I want for myself and for others. It might make me feel like I'm lacking. Deprived. In need. Unfulfilled. Much of prayer ought to instead be praise, gratitude and thanksgiving. If you reflect on what you have you can't help but realize how much you are privileged with. My last entry boasted the news of my newly wedded-ness.
I left some stuff out...
We flew to Las Vegas on a Sunday and were to return on a Friday. All five of us. Prior to this trip, my sons (ages 13, 12, and 9) have never been on an airplane. EVER! This was a big deal not only because I was getting married, but because this trip would bring them farther away from their father than they had ever been in their lives. We all had a blast in Las Vegas. Anyone who says you can't enjoy yourself there with children has no idea what they're talking about. We didn't gamble and barely drank. We didn't feel the need to. (plus all of that kinda gets in the way of training, doesn't it?) It's a long, drawn out, detailed story, but catching the flight home was a mess. We barely got to the airport in time and I had to return our rental car. I dropped the four of them off at the gate and told them to hold my seat on the plane. I was misdirected and redirected and misdirected and redirected by well meaning airport and TSA employees. I ended up missing our flight. When it was clear that the plane would depart without me, I listened to my baby cry on the phone and my husband assure me that he would take care of him and cheer him up and make sure that he didn't spend the entire flight (that had a stop/transfer) worried about me. I spoke to my older boys and assured them that I would be on the next flight and see them home soon. They assured me that they wouldn't worry and asked me not to worry about them worrying about me. (read that again, it totally makes sense)
I got lucky and got a flight into Philadelphia that would arrive only an hour after my men arrived in Newark. Perfect. Onward. I hang out in the airport for a couple of hours, get on a plane and get off in Philly only to see an onslaught of text messages and voice mails from my husband as soon as I turn my phone back on.
Their stop was in St. Louis. Yes. During the tornado. While the airport was struck by the F4 tornado, my sons and new husband were on an airplane waiting to depart. Needless to say, the plane never took off and they were asked to exit in a not so calm and not so organized manner. Their flight was canceled. The main terminal shattered to bits. People injured. There was a power outage and a gas leak in the airport where my nine year old boy curled up on the floor in exhaustion. My boys. It was enough that they had to take off in a plane without me. And now this. I read my oldest son's facebook updates and my heart sunk. They're out there without me. Scared and uncertain. I should have been with them. They are amidst an unfathomable event and the comfort of their mother is no where within reach.
This was my fuel. This was my purpose during the half marathon. I already ran out of words to describe how bad their experience in St. Louis was. But words fall so short in expressing my gratitude. I ran this half marathon as a physical display of gratitude. Think of it. My boys were unharmed. They witnessed no physical trauma- not a single horrifying image of maimed or injured people has been burned into their young minds. Their shuttle bus drove through the aftermath and they saw no horror beyond material items destroyed. They were not in the terminal that was shattered. They were not in an overturned vehicle. And while their plane was shaken violently, not a hair on their heads was harmed they left St. Louis with my loving and patient husband(two days later)unscathed. All I could do was pour my heart into this run. I couldn't possibly say "thank you" in prayer and expect that such an over used nearly meaningless phrase might come close to expressing my pure gratitude. My body felt strong and alive because my children and husband were safe. I barely recounted the "what if's" in my head, but I know that they are there. Anything could have happened. But the only thing that matters is that they got home to me. My feet, knees, hips, legs were fueled with gratitude. When pain or discomfort crept in, I practically laughed it off- nothing could slow the joy from pouring out of me. My husband and my sons all saw me off at the start and my baby finished the last half mile with me. I know God saw his wide confident stride and smile- my son was not crying or curled up in fear hundreds of miles from the comfort of his mother. He is by my side. He is running and alive and excited. As am I.
This is why I knew the PR was in the bag no matter what. It is no coincidence that I'm smiling or laughing in all almost all of the photos captured by the course photographers.
When I think of the difficult miles of that race, my heart overflows with joy. Perhaps this run was an act of worship and praise for the blessing of life. As I hit "publish post" this will be the first time that I share the magnitude and meaning of my 13.1 mile journey through Long Island with anyone. Part of me hesitates because my faith is so personal and deep and intimate that sharing my heart here makes me fear that it appears artificial. I don't know a better time to connect with your beliefs than when you are alone and willing your body forward with the strength and might that you are blessed with.
This is why I run.
That preamble was supposed to lead in to the fact that I ran the Long Island Half Marathon on Sunday. In earlier posts, I shared that I always run with purpose. It's never JUST about running. I had to find reason for this half marathon. I needed something to fuel me and make the distance and time worthwhile. My first marathon is just about a month away and I kind of had no business trying to run a PR half.
I believe that prayers are heard. It concerns me that most people think that prayer is all about asking for favors from God. It isn't all about a wish list. I cannot imagine how it would make me feel to ask over and over and over for what I want for myself and for others. It might make me feel like I'm lacking. Deprived. In need. Unfulfilled. Much of prayer ought to instead be praise, gratitude and thanksgiving. If you reflect on what you have you can't help but realize how much you are privileged with. My last entry boasted the news of my newly wedded-ness.
I left some stuff out...
We flew to Las Vegas on a Sunday and were to return on a Friday. All five of us. Prior to this trip, my sons (ages 13, 12, and 9) have never been on an airplane. EVER! This was a big deal not only because I was getting married, but because this trip would bring them farther away from their father than they had ever been in their lives. We all had a blast in Las Vegas. Anyone who says you can't enjoy yourself there with children has no idea what they're talking about. We didn't gamble and barely drank. We didn't feel the need to. (plus all of that kinda gets in the way of training, doesn't it?) It's a long, drawn out, detailed story, but catching the flight home was a mess. We barely got to the airport in time and I had to return our rental car. I dropped the four of them off at the gate and told them to hold my seat on the plane. I was misdirected and redirected and misdirected and redirected by well meaning airport and TSA employees. I ended up missing our flight. When it was clear that the plane would depart without me, I listened to my baby cry on the phone and my husband assure me that he would take care of him and cheer him up and make sure that he didn't spend the entire flight (that had a stop/transfer) worried about me. I spoke to my older boys and assured them that I would be on the next flight and see them home soon. They assured me that they wouldn't worry and asked me not to worry about them worrying about me. (read that again, it totally makes sense)
I got lucky and got a flight into Philadelphia that would arrive only an hour after my men arrived in Newark. Perfect. Onward. I hang out in the airport for a couple of hours, get on a plane and get off in Philly only to see an onslaught of text messages and voice mails from my husband as soon as I turn my phone back on.
Their stop was in St. Louis. Yes. During the tornado. While the airport was struck by the F4 tornado, my sons and new husband were on an airplane waiting to depart. Needless to say, the plane never took off and they were asked to exit in a not so calm and not so organized manner. Their flight was canceled. The main terminal shattered to bits. People injured. There was a power outage and a gas leak in the airport where my nine year old boy curled up on the floor in exhaustion. My boys. It was enough that they had to take off in a plane without me. And now this. I read my oldest son's facebook updates and my heart sunk. They're out there without me. Scared and uncertain. I should have been with them. They are amidst an unfathomable event and the comfort of their mother is no where within reach.
This was my fuel. This was my purpose during the half marathon. I already ran out of words to describe how bad their experience in St. Louis was. But words fall so short in expressing my gratitude. I ran this half marathon as a physical display of gratitude. Think of it. My boys were unharmed. They witnessed no physical trauma- not a single horrifying image of maimed or injured people has been burned into their young minds. Their shuttle bus drove through the aftermath and they saw no horror beyond material items destroyed. They were not in the terminal that was shattered. They were not in an overturned vehicle. And while their plane was shaken violently, not a hair on their heads was harmed they left St. Louis with my loving and patient husband(two days later)unscathed. All I could do was pour my heart into this run. I couldn't possibly say "thank you" in prayer and expect that such an over used nearly meaningless phrase might come close to expressing my pure gratitude. My body felt strong and alive because my children and husband were safe. I barely recounted the "what if's" in my head, but I know that they are there. Anything could have happened. But the only thing that matters is that they got home to me. My feet, knees, hips, legs were fueled with gratitude. When pain or discomfort crept in, I practically laughed it off- nothing could slow the joy from pouring out of me. My husband and my sons all saw me off at the start and my baby finished the last half mile with me. I know God saw his wide confident stride and smile- my son was not crying or curled up in fear hundreds of miles from the comfort of his mother. He is by my side. He is running and alive and excited. As am I.
This is why I knew the PR was in the bag no matter what. It is no coincidence that I'm smiling or laughing in all almost all of the photos captured by the course photographers.
When I think of the difficult miles of that race, my heart overflows with joy. Perhaps this run was an act of worship and praise for the blessing of life. As I hit "publish post" this will be the first time that I share the magnitude and meaning of my 13.1 mile journey through Long Island with anyone. Part of me hesitates because my faith is so personal and deep and intimate that sharing my heart here makes me fear that it appears artificial. I don't know a better time to connect with your beliefs than when you are alone and willing your body forward with the strength and might that you are blessed with.
This is why I run.
5/2/11
there's more to life than the run...?
I've been busy! 
I am excited to be a "newlywed" and we had a kick ass time in Las Vegas. I wore my flying pig tube socks on my wedding day- because they are officially my "do something awesome" socks. (They greatly aided in hiding my feet- they're about as cute as you might imagine a marathon runner in training's feet could be- missing toenail and all!)Yes, of course I brought my running shoes. Even though I hurt my back at work just days before we departed, I managed to run several miles while we were out there. A few people told me that I should leave the running at home and just relax. I felt a little funny when I tried to explain that running relaxes me- not to mention that screwing up my marathon training schedule would be anything BUT relaxing!
I am excited to be a "newlywed" and we had a kick ass time in Las Vegas. I wore my flying pig tube socks on my wedding day- because they are officially my "do something awesome" socks. (They greatly aided in hiding my feet- they're about as cute as you might imagine a marathon runner in training's feet could be- missing toenail and all!)Yes, of course I brought my running shoes. Even though I hurt my back at work just days before we departed, I managed to run several miles while we were out there. A few people told me that I should leave the running at home and just relax. I felt a little funny when I tried to explain that running relaxes me- not to mention that screwing up my marathon training schedule would be anything BUT relaxing!
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