Marathon Deaths. What on Earth is happening?

If you are a runner or you are thinking about becoming a runner, you should read this. If you have just started running you should read this. If you think you know everything about running and no one can tell you nuttin' you should still read this. Most importantly, if you are any of the above and you have people in your life that love you and care about you, you should read this.

Hearing the tragic news about Claire Squires, a thirty year young woman who collapsed and died at mile 25 during the London Marathon compelled me to share the details of my experience during my second marathon. Race deaths (geez, is there a name for this occurrence now?) seem to be a taboo subject for runners. What good would it be to tell your family and friends "wow, another runner died at a race this week" unless you want to scare the crap about them from now on every time you step out to the start of a race?

Jersey Shore Relay Marathon: Happy Anniversary to us!

April 21 is my wedding anniversary. A year ago today, we were married in Las Vegas. We took the boys with us and had a fun, adventurous, memorable trip.

I'll explain the ninjas later... 

This year, we celebrated in the best way I could ever imagine possible. No gifts. No dining out. No party. No romantic getaway. Way better....

Winner of Not My Problem #6 (pStyle)

As always, I hate choosing a winner. Everyone should win.

The bad news, as you know, is that I only have one pStyle to give away. The good news is, that after posting this giveaway, I was able to negotiate with a great company who has agreed to hook For The Love Of The Run up with a stash of pStyles for our up-and-coming mother of all giveaways. So if you didn't win today, I hope you will participate in my next amazing challenge. I am bursting with excitement. I cannot wait to reveal it. In fact, if you wrote me a great pee story and I didn't choose you, it's probably my passive aggressive way of getting you to participate in the awesomeness that is to come next. So roll with it. If you aren't so good at keeping tabs on this blog, consider following For The Love Of The Run on Facebook.

So after reading the responses over and over and over and asking for a little help, Jersey Duck. I'll contact you, you contact me and we'll get you this great opportunity to use a urinal at last!

As Jade and Pearl was awesome enough to hook us up with this solution to sit down public pee problems, I hope you will consider posting a review on your adventures with the pStyle.

If any of my other readers are bummed that they didn't win, do not despair. There will be another opportunity for you to get one for free.

20 miles. Woot.

I am absofreakinloutely over the moon even though I am a bit achy. I managed 20 miles yesterday at the good ol' Manasquan Reservoir trail. I felt strong (enough) through this whole run. I only walked when it made sense: drinking, downing GU, a few steps right after stopping to stretch and when I approached and exited the porta john. (darn I wish I had my pStyle)I only briefly thought about ditching at mile 15- you can't blame me- this is a 5 mile loop course and approaching the car made it so tempting. I already had that temptation blocked since I told my husband he needed to make sure I did not quit even if it meant walking the entire final loop. He ran 6 miles with me and biked 23. He was my hydration source and my emotional support each time he intersected me on this course.

The 5 mile loop. (marked with 6 as this was taken from my husband's Runkeeper app and he doubled back at 5.5 to get his mileage in.)

At mile 16 I had to keep reminding myself that it is normal to feel weak and bored and... done. I kept promising myself opportunities to walk, but walking wasn't going to make me finish this 20 miles any faster and I didn't need to walk. If I was in pain or if I felt any of that wackiness I felt during my second marathon, I sure as shit would have walked. But I'm so glad that I could struggle through the last few miles while running.

2.5 miles to go. Yes. I can handle this.

Even after 20 miles I cannot say anything bad about this course. It is serene and beautiful. Places like this make me ever more grateful that I am a runner. I would never take the time (hours!) to enjoy such beautiful surroundings if I did not assign myself to training for a marathon.

Next week we run the Jersey Shore Relay Marathon and we damn well better take the costume category win home with us. I won't reveal our costumes yet, but I will say they involve a lot of tulle, bouquets, stockings, bow ties, and wigs. My sons will be simultaneously amused and mortified (ahhh... teenagers...) to be on this team. Coincidentally, this relay falls on my one year wedding anniversary. The very best anniversary gift that I could possibly be blessed with will happen on this day: my sons, husband and I will each run a portion of this 26.2 mile relay. The thought of this makes me forget that I lack anything in life at all. I know it sounds silly to many, but I'm sure that the mother runners out there get it. Passing on a love for running to your children is so exciting. Combine this with the fact that for the longest time, my husband has been a passionate supporter and spectator of every race I've run since we've been together, and now, he is running with me. Life is grand. I hope that my kids learn that the true "stuff" of life that makes living so wonderful has nothing to do with (material) stuff at all. It's people, experiences, joyous moments, memories.

I don't want my own penis, but.... (Not My Problem #6)

...oh, (ladies, particularly, who are reading) do not act all shocked and appalled by the title of this post.

This is one of those subjects that everyone initially gets weirded out about, but by the end of my rant, I usually get my point across pretty well.

I have had the pleasure of having to use the bathroom on the train. In the subway station. At a mostly closed for the night rest stop. At a not so well kept public park. At a gas station. Oh, and of course I would dare not ever forget the porta johns at races.

My sons do not believe me when I tell them that at the Army Ten Miler in 2005, the porta john I was lucky enough to select after I finished the race was SO FULL that if I failed at "hovering" my butt would've touched a heaping mountain of poop. They pity me because every time I go to a public restroom, I get to decide whether or not the seat is worth sitting on. If both bathrooms are occupied in this house, for me, it is never an option even think about going outside in a discrete area of the back yard.

I have stood in awe (and I will admit, I do have a bit of a staring problem sometimes, my sister says that it's from our cultural background) while watching the sea of men at the start of a race relieving themselves in distant (enough) areas in public while I debated whether or not I could hold it or if a trip to the porta john was worth a late start...

I have meandered about unfamiliar trails with my sons and husband. The ease in which they can select a tree and hide from view to relieve themselves is such a foreign concept to me.

But like I said in the title, I do not want my own penis... I'm perfectly happy with what I have. Really.

However, I will honestly say that I cannot count how many times I have had this fleeting wish cross my mind:

I wish I could pee standing up.

Every female runner must wish this particularly when she's trying not think about how bad she needs to go. All the while she's running past guys who can stop, whip it out, and catch back up to her in seconds. If any female runner denies ever wishing this wish, she must love porta johns. Seriously. There's no reason to embrace the bathroom during a race if you're a woman unless you have some sort of disturbing fetish.

I know this wish has crossed my mind during other scenarios as well:

amusement parks
camping trips
pub crawls (ok, I've never been on any pub crawls, but if I had been, I'm sure this would cross my mind)
concerts


And wouldn't you know it, this wish does not have to be a wish, thanks to the pStyle.

From this angle, my pStyle looks huge!!!

I know I know. This is so unusual,that at first you are kind of freaked out... then when you get past all that, you realize that it's awesome.

The lovely ladies at Jade and Pearl were kind enough to give me one to try and one to give away.

And already, there have been times when I've been out and I wished that I stashed the thing in my purse or the glove box of my car. It works really well. It's doesn't look anything like a pretend penis, in case you are concerned about being accused of penis envy. It's more like a slide for your pee. So if it were to fall out of your purse or get found by a nosy relative, you will experience no humiliation.

As further proof of the fact that I do not want my own penis, I will readily admit that I wish this thing was a little smaller. If it were, I could carry it in a pocket of a fuel belt. Imagine the freedom of urinating at will during a marathon, ladies. I was hoping I could create a custom pocket to tote this thing around in, but I would totally look like a banana smuggler if I tried to stash this thing in a pocket on my shorts, not to mention, if it rubbed against my thigh it might cause chafing... So since I can't tote it, it's living in my gear bag. I have used it before and after training runs. I haven't been in a situation where I needed to use it outside of a porta john, but I'm sure that time will come and I will likely be more grateful than I already am now for the invention of The pStyle.

If you want one, tell me a story about your public bathroom woes. We all have a story, I'm sure. Even if you don't want a pStyle, share your story anyway. (I said that so that people who are too embarrassed to admit they kind of want one will just get over themselves and post a response to this.) Tell me anything- your first porta john line experience, your attempt at being discrete in the woods, or between parked cars... Post anonymously if you need to. I have one pStyle to give away and I'll choose a winner in a week!

You have to admit, this post is fun. Win it just to say you did.

Free Sweepstakes

CashNet Sweepstakes

Click here for the "Winner of I don't want my own penis, but.... (Not My Problem #6)

New Jersey Marathon Training on Resurrection Sunday

It's been a looooong time since I posted anything about training. I don't use Runkeeper or any other programs like that regularly and when I do, I keep all the info private. I do not post eversinglefreakin workout on facebook. But I am honestly truly really training for the New Jersey Marathon. It's 28 days away.

I whittled my Philadelphia Marathon weight gain off. I'm sure some people know EXACTLY how easy it is to gain weight during marathon training and some think that the mere idea of weight gain while running so many miles is absurd. Remember that a pound is 3500 calories. Someone of my height and weight (5'3" and 128 lbs) burns about 100 calories per mile. So at 26.2 miles I don't even burn off a whole pound. As a parent of three kids who has a full time job and an active exciting ahemm... marriage not to mention this awesome blog with awesome things to give away and share, I will unabashedly do whatever I need to do post killer training run to make myself functional/comfortable again. I do not count calories when I'm severely fatigued. I don't allow training to become an excuse to submit to my every craving, but stuff I would normally never touch on a normal day is free game after a long run: chocolate milk, fried food, white carbs, sugar sugar sugar.

Today I ran fifteen miles at Manasquan Reservoir. It's a scenic five mile loop with enough hills to make you feel like you're working, but not so many hills that you feel defeated by them.

My husband ran the first loop with me and rode sixteen miles afterward.

He wore his Underdog tshirt. Oh the irony.

I'm not sure if I'm supposed to reveal this, but my husband is training for his first half marathon. The mere thought of this feels like Christmas morning to me. I wonder if anyone reading can relate. Seeing him persevere through varied weather and terrain is incredible. I am awestruck and overjoyed. I don't have any other words for it right now.

Back to my training- it's been good. Better than Philadelphia training, but not as spot-on as Lake Placid training. This is my second fifteen mile run and I have to say I felt strong through this one. It was a negative split. My pace was fairly consistent. I only walked for 35 seconds.

I am still beside myself over the fact that I sweat so much. I mean, it's to the point that it's disturbing. Today it was 60 degrees and windy. I was actually cold depending on where I was on that trail. Yet I still came away from that run with an abnormal amount of dried sweat on my face and neck and hair. Good thing this wasn't a first date.

If I lick this off of myself, will it prevent sodium depletion?

I like that I'm getting stronger about this endurance thing. That right now, fifteen miles seems totally manageable. Maybe by this time next year I'll feel the same way about 26.2 miles and I can stop shuddering at the idea of running an ultra.


I will be posting another giveaway AND something amazingly incredibly undoubtedly awesome this week. But right now, I need to babble about training. How is your training going?

Winner of Not My Problem #5 (Remington Smooth and Silky)

I am learning that I love hosting giveaways, but I don't love choosing winners. I want everyone who responds to win. I wish I had enough to give to everyone. It's not fair. I would like a pity party please. My life is so horrible.

We decided the winner of the Remington Smooth and Silky is Greg. Your reply reminded me that as a runner, not everything is set in stone- if you don't give up you very well may surprise yourself with an amazing finish time! I need to stop "assigning" myself to my average pace and start hoping and expecting to outdo myself. I follow Just Don't Stop Running and my favorite post of his (which I've shared on facebook twice, I think) is "Do I deserve a night off?" Read it when you feel like slacking off.

Greg, when you start using the Remington Smooth and Silky please share photos of your smooth and silky legs! (Just kidding. I think any woman would love this item as a re-gift.) Contact me with the address you'd like me to mail it to! (There is a contact info tab, see it?)

Thank you all for sharing your stories. I hope that this inspired a never-runner to give running a try!

Race Report- Allstate 13.1 NY. For my sister.

Finally, a race report, kind of. For runners who are reading, I will say the course was beautiful, flat, and scenic. Hydration stations were adequately stocked. Medals were awesome. Post race food was amazing and live music was incredible. There is no way I could pour this experience out into words without addressing the whole thing to my sister. We last saw this park together in 1984. I know she will read this, and she will understand why I thought of her for the entire 13.1 miles.


I had every intention of working for a personal best. I loved the idea of having a personal best in a race that was also a homecoming of sorts to me. How amazing would that be? How sweet would the story be to tell my grandbabies someday? I felt like I HAD TO run my best half marathon on this day. No question about it. I hoped that the emotion running through me would fuel me and pull me through the course. I knew that the thoughts of my past- bittersweet childhood moments with you- coupled with thoughts of my own children and their presence in the place where I grew up would be enough to make me soar through this course. What a beautiful, healing sight it was to see them here.

They all climbed up and Chris didn't want to come down.

Ethan walking toward the mighty globe.

Brotherly love in the park.


I had to achieve a personal best. It was happening. I was going to will it to.

Right around the third mile I saw this:

The Merry Go Round



And I did the most annoying thing a runner could do in a race: I stopped.

When I realized that I was stopped, I started to walk. Kinda slowly. And I pulled my phone out from my pocket. I fought back tears as I took this picture. This carousel was the highlight of every trip to Flushing Meadows Park when I was a little girl. I remembered the music and the horses and different animals you could ride. I remembered how I always wanted to be on a horse right next to you. When it was crowded and we had to separate, I pouted for the seconds before the ride started. Over the past few months while I was anticipating this race, I didn't even think about the carousel, in fact, I thought we only rode a carousel in Central Park. And even though it wasn't open, the soothing nostalgia of this sight was a precious surprise. How I wished you were with me. I could have stood there for a long time, but the energy of the race called me and I savored this moment for just long enough. I took this photo so you could see and remember too.

I started to run again, and I was smiling so much, that I noticed that I was smiling. (It's not my usual expression while running.) I thought about how we, in our matching short sets, came alive in this park. I realized that even though these memories are so faint and seldom remembered, they are a big part of who I am. Even though there were so many days that I would love to forget, and quite a few that I wish never happened, I did experience joy as a child. As I ran, I could not stop smiling because if I did, I knew I might start crying.

I ran further from the carousel and I became content with the fact that this was not simply a race- not for me. It was a 13.1 mile journey home. Where is home to someone like me? Since I left Queens NY at age nine, I have never lived in any one place (structure I mean, like a house or apartment) for more than four years. From fourth grade on, we moved to different schools every two to three years. Sure, I've stayed in the same areas and towns for longer than that, but I never made "home" of where I lived until recently. (I will be in this home for five years this October.) As a result, I have always felt that home is not where one resides, but where one can truly set all fears and guards and hesitations and facades aside and just simply be. I had forgotten that so much of home was built here in this park with you when I was a little girl.

I deliberately slowed my pace and breathed this place in. I thought of the short subway ride that brought us here. I remembered the excitement that would build up in me when I would see the most prominent structure in this park.

Often our dad carried his guitar case and mom walked with us on each side of her and held our hands. Sometimes there was a cooler for a picnic that she had to carry so we held hands and ran as far as we could before she yelled for us to stop and wait for her. This sight of the Unisphere meant freedom. We could run, play, imagine, dream, without worry. We could be little girls here. I know it is the same for you. Every time I look back on the past, there is not one happy memory that you are absent from. Not one. Who would I be without you? My name was rarely called by our mother without yours in front of it. My days began and ended with you. My nights, awake and afraid, were spent next to you, always near you. The gloom and helplessness of our upbringing is much more prominent in our minds, but there I was running in a crowd and seeing the proof that there were times when we were so happy. How I wish you were there with me to behold this day and to run through this park and remember our happiness.

The course took a turn and I was so close to another sweet memory that I could have jumped right in.

...except there was no water. We waded in this fountain. On unbearably hot days, it was so crowded. The water was dirty sometimes, but we were too enthralled to care. As I walked and did my best to savor this sight and the comfort it brought to me, I remembered that I was in a race. I realized that seconds and minutes were ticking by as I slowed to take these photos and take in my childhood. Did I really allow 27 years go by since the last time I was in this park? I thought about what it might feel like to come away from this race with my slowest half marathon time ever. I wondered if I would regret slowing down to dwell in my memories. It became clear that no other race would compare to this one. That just as some things are so precious that assigning a monetary value is nothing short of an insult, assigning a desired "finish time" to this incredible journey would be unthinkable. And what if we never come here together again? I had to take these photos for you.

I wonder who in this herd of people thought I was strange for stopping to take a picture of the public bathrooms.

I remember how dirty these bathrooms were. I bet you do too. A trip to this bathroom usually signified the end of our day at the park. I remember the gloomy feeling of leaving the bathroom, knowing that the subway home would be next.


There are other pictures that I took for you. I know you remember the playground.

The rows of benches. We would watch people walk and ride bikes and roller skate by on these benches.

Do you remember this stream? This railing?

Do you remember the dinosaurs on this fence? What is that all about?

And these things. These are for aliens, right?

They have to be, because there are rockets here too. The aliens parked their rockets here.

For the first time EVER in a race, I passed the more-than-half-way point and was disappointed. As I approached mile seven, I wished that there were more miles to run. I wasn't ready to be so close to the end of this experience. I needed more photos. I needed to savor this day and make this a clear, distinct memory of coming home. And so there I was with wide open eyes and heart embracing every moment and every long lost memory. It is not the sorrow and trauma of our brief youth that brought me here, it is because of these buried memories of the happy simple days with you that I can stand, run, soar. Long before I understood what love really is, before I believed our parents (who did the best they could, yes, I know) ever truly loved me, long before I found faith, believed in myself or embraced the comfort of salvation, I had all of these things with you. You loved me. You believed in me. You, by your mere presence, comforted and saved me. And you still do. When I try and imagine my life without you, I cannot even finish the thought. Often I boast that our closeness is such that we need not speak out affectionate or affirming words to one another- that anything said is already known so undoubtedly. Speaking out what you mean to me would be like pointing out which direction one needs to go to find the sky. But just in case you ever need a reminder, I am typing this out for you.

This race was run for you. So many years have gone by since we last played in this park. And even though our hearts have been hardened by hardships, challenges and loss, for the two hours and fourteen minutes that I ran through Flushing Meadows, (and stopped and took photos and walked my slowest 13.1 to date)in my heart, I was a little girl again. I was holding your hand. Laughing, running, dreaming and hoping that the day would never end. Thank you. Without you, I know I would barely stand in this life. But because of you, I'm running.