Race Recap: Tough Mudder New England 2016

Before I begin my tale, I must acknowledge the mislabeling of this post. Tough Mudder is not a race. It is a team-oriented challenge. Amid the growing trend of Obstacle Course Racing, this distinction sets Tough Mudder apart. It was the positive, supportive team environment that kept me smiling up and down the muddy trails of a mountain, in spite of my cynicism coming into the day's adventure.

In Tough Mudder's own words (per their website): 

"We are 10-12 miles of mud and obstacles built to test your mental grit, camaraderie and all-around physical fitness. We are a team-oriented challenge with no winner, no finisher medal, no clock to race against--just an ice cold beer and a few good scrapes from a day spent outside and free from everyday bullshit. We are for anyone who has ever followed their gut, tried to defy gravity, chosen "dare" over "truth", taken risks, sought thrills, or is generally awesome at life. Turns out, it's all been training. We are made for this."

Now, I'm not totally convinced that humans were made for climbing through manmade mud tunnels under barbed wire on the trails of an off-season ski mountain in exchange for a Dos Equis and a headband. Then again...we probably aren't made to run 26.2 miles for a medal, a foil blanket and a banana, either. I suppose when we've rid ourselves of natural predators, we've got to find a way to get our thrills and make up for the general lack of danger in our daily lives. That's a post for another day...

After two years balking at Auntie Cristina's invitations to test my grit alongside her, I reluctantly agreed to sign up for Tough Mudder New England 2016. It seems like the perfect sort of event for a thrill-seeking, competition-loving fitness enthusiast. But I hesitated, finding myself hung up on this theme of self-torture that seemed to permeate the event. 

I'd heard of obstacles like "Cage Crawl", where you kinda, sorta waterboard yourself while traveling on your back through water just a few inches below a cage. 

Or the infamous "Electroshock Therapy", where you run through live wires. For funzies!

(Here's a photo of me applying the cheap strategy of "drafting" by allowing the bigger dude in front of me hit all the live wires first so I knew which ones to avoid.)

Overview

This year's event took place over the weekend of June 18th & 19th at Mount Snow in West Dover, VT. In the winter, Mount Snow serves as a ski resort in the Green Mountains. The event was ten miles long, with twenty obstacles spread over a winding course up and down the mountain. Three of the obstacles had harder or different versions for "Legionnaires", which is Tough Mudder lingo for veteran participants. Participants could sign up for either Saturday or Sunday events and our start times were staggered throughout the day to ease congestion. Most people arrived as part of a team. 

Pre-Race

I drove up from Boston on Saturday morning. By car, the trip took about 2.5 hours. It was a lovely drive, winding through the mountainous parts of Massachusetts and southern Vermont. Parking was straightforward...but also cost $20. The biggest downside to this event was the sheer volume of add-on fees. As if $150 to register for the event wasn't enough, it was $20 to park, $5 to stow a bag with the stuff you didn't want to destroy in mud, and $15 to take a hot shower after the race. 

I hopped on a shuttle bus from the remote parking area and found Auntie Cristina and Uncle Sean waiting for me. Cristina and I were a team of two in this crazy event, and Sean was our impressively diligent and dutiful photographer. 

The Start

After fastening my race bib to my shorts, Cristina branded my arms and legs with my bib number in permanent marker. Since the race bibs commonly become obscured by mud and/or are destroyed during the event, this branding with marker is how people identify themselves on the course. It is mostly for the sake of on-course photographers.

We wedged ourselves into a "Warm Up Zone" and were led through a brief overview of the day and some goofy warm up exercises before being unleashed to run up a short hill and over a wooden wall.

Once over the wall, we found ourselves in a holding pen which was the REAL start line. We had a moment of silence for servicemen and women. We sang the national anthem. Then we started running up the mountain. 

The Obstacles and The Trekking

The first obstacle didn't come until almost the Mile 2 mark. I'm certain this was intentional, giving the crowd of eager participants an opportunity to spread out over that first uphill mile in order to ease congestion at the obstacles. We did wait on line for several obstacles, but never for more than a few minutes. 

We climbed up a knotted rope over a wall for our first obstacle, Balls to the Wall. Did I mention the obstacles were named by that fraternity brother who doled out nicknames like "Han Solo Cup"?

After running some more, including through a bunch of mud, we launched ourselves down a slide into a dumpster filled with ice mud in what is known as Arctic Enema. It was admittedly exhilarating after some hot sunny sweating.

The Cage Crawl/Rain Man waterboarding obstacle, though still a ridiculous idea, was much less intense than I imagined it to be. 

Then came the Hero Carry, in which we took turns piggy-backing one another uphill. Simple fun, one of my favorite parts of the race!

Shortly after mile 3, we found ourselves at Shawshanked. Crawl on your belly in some mud under barbed wire, then go through a big dark tunnel before plunging yourself into some more mud water. 

Run some more. Up a hill, down a hill.

Somewhere in Mile 4 in we crawled through mud in Mud Mile 2.0

At Mile 5, we ducked in a pond in Underwater Tunnels, then carried heavy logs with teammates over and under some walls in Hold Your Wood. Yes, that is really what the obstacle is called. The next obstacle had an even more graphic name: Birth Canal. It involved squeezing your body between the muddy ground and heavy tarps filled with water.

We ran/hiked up the ski trails toward the peak and then came down through the woods in Bushwhacked. Cristina conquered Berlin Walls.

At Mile 7, we climbed over another wall with some tires on Skidmarked and crept under cargo netting at Devil's Beard.

At Mile 8, we finally reached our most looked-forward-to challenge of the day: Funky Monkey 2.0. For this obstacle, we crossed a set of inclined monkey bars and launched ourselves using a metal swing to grab hold of a suspended pole, which we traversed hand over hand to a platform on the other side of a big pool of mud water.

Cristina and I both nailed it!

I used a pair of wooden pegs to climb over a wall in Liberator while Cristina had to use just one peg to haul up the "Legionnaire" version, called Backstabber.

At Mile 9, we worked as a team to turn giant rotisserie blocks in mud water at Block Ness Monster.

King of the Swingers was the most anxiety-provoking of the obstacles. Jump from a platform, catch a moving swing, and try to use it to launch yourself toward a bell high above the water. There were scuba divers sitting in the water in case anyone didn't come back up. Yeesh.

Pyramid Scheme was a fun team challenge helping one another over a long a slippery wall.

Everest 2.0 involved running up a big giant half-pipish ramp.

To end the race, first-timers run through Electroshock Therapy, which is exactly how it sounds. A bunch of live wires. Unless you allow a big guy run in front of you and pave the way so you don't get shocked at all, like I did. Cheat to win!

We ended the day dirty, smelly, and smiling. In spite of my skepticism about the whole event, I had a lot of fun. And the $15 shower was pretty much the best shower ever.

Race Recap: Cambridge 5K Freedom Run 2016

Running a 5K PR one week post-marathon is taunting the gods of injury. I should know...doing just that in this same race is exactly how I injured myself one year ago. The advisable thing to do one week after running a marathon is to rest and recover, maybe log some easy runs.

The problem is, I seem to be incapable of holding myself back once I toe the starting line of a race. The Freedom Run is the second 5K race in the four-part Cambridge 5K race series, which just so happens to be my favorite race series in all the land. Skipping this race was out of the question! So, one week after a hard fought but short-of-the-mark effort at the Vermont City Marathon, I returned to the familiar roads of Cambridge to run like a bat out of hell. I don't recall making a conscious effort to do so, but the foolish and prideful parts down in the depths of me ran this race for redemption. 13 seconds faster than I've ever officially run a 5K before.

This patriotic themed race is hosted by the East Cambridge Business Association and sponsored by Cambridgeside. The race course starts and finishes outside the Cambridgeside Galleria in East Cambridge. It's a flat and very fast loop course with just 5 easy turns that takes runners through East Cambridge to Inman Square and back. As are all races in the C5K race series, it was impeccably organized and ridiculously fun. This year, there were 1818 runners.

Having cooked my insides in the sun of Vermont one week earlier, I was pleased to wake up on the morning of the race in Cambridge to cool, gray skies and a touch of misty June gloom. I was also thrilled to run on the very Cambridge streets I run on almost every day. Chris joined me for this race and we jogged the one mile from our apartment to the start line together. I got my 21+ wristband, checked my backpack, said a few hellos, and huddled into the corral.

I looked a little nervous, no?

No matter how many races I run and how nonchalant I pretend to be about the whole thing, I still feel exactly the way I look in this picture every time I line up in the starting corral. Every time.

Ready, set, go! A sharp horn at 9:30 on the dot, and my legs started to do their thing independently of my brain. Go legs! Right turn on Binney Street. First mile timer in view at the end of Binney read 5:14. At the left turn on Cardinal Medeiros, I quickly confirmed with my watch that this clock was started one minute after the actual gun time. I don't believe I've ever run a 5:14 mile in my life, or will. Ever.

Quick right onto Hampshire Street. Waved to my apartment. Settled in, feeling pretty groovy. Heard someone yelling my name! Sharp right on Cambridge Street. There was Ciara, cheering wildly! I grinned and yelled back. Mile 2 clock, also one minute off from gun time, read 11:54. Knew I was slowing a bit, but that's how this course works for me. Downhill to start, flattish second mile.

And the third mile? There's this gradual, gentle climb from Petsi Pies to Courtside Tavern on Cambridge Street that, during any normal run, is hardly noticeable as a hill. At mile 2.5 of a 3.1 mile race, it feels endless! The familiarity of running in my own 'hood came in handy here. Having prepared for slowdown and hard effort in this mile, I passed a handful of runners laboring up the hill. Reached the crest of the hill, looking down. Close enough to hit the gas, but not yet close enough to run flat out.

Final right turn onto First Street. With glimpse of the finish line, I gritted my teeth and let it fly in the last hundred yards, passing three men and one woman.

The end result of my foolishness?

20:21 net finish, a Personal Record by 13 seconds.
77th place overall of 1818 runners.
7th woman overall.

I cheered as Becca, Dave and Chris made strong finishes, then sauntered over to the post race party. Feeling smug about my accomplishment and inspired by the camaraderie of the Slumbrew Happy Soles, I rewarded myself by drinking one too many pre-noon beers.

What a good looking group of Happy Soles!

Race Recap: Vermont City Marathon 2016, Part 2

This is Part 2 of my (overly dramatic) recap of the 2016 Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, VT. Read Part 1 here.

Third Leg: Miles 10-15, Continued...
At the half marathon interchange, I was on pace for a 3:30 finish time but aware that the temperature was steadily climbing up into the 80s and running was beginning to feel less natural and comfortable. I put on my headphones for the first time, hoping that some music would soothe my nerves.

An oblivious female runner appeared next to me, flailing her arms. Her odd and unpredictable behavior over miles 13-14 annoyed and entertained me in equal parts. First, she repetitively shook her head side to side. Then she ran very close to my body, in spite of us being on a wide path. Without warning, she ripped off her shirt and cast it aside on the trail. She whipped out a Gu, tore it open with her teeth, sucked it down, and threw the empty wrapper straight up into the air. I did my best to surge forward and create a little breathing room. It was a little hard to eat my second endurance gel, but I did it anyway.

Mile 15 has Battery Hill, the most challenging climb in the race. I really enjoy this part of the race. The Taiko drummers and cheering crowd urged me forward and I focused on quick, light steps to get myself to the traffic light at the top of the climb. Near the top of the hill, I heard screams of "GO BEAN!!" and looked left to see Carly surrounded by a gaggle of young women decked out in Coachella festival garb. Leave it to Carly to make friends with everyone on the course and and recruit them to yell for us.

She caught Becca's eye, too.

By the time I crested the hill, my decision had been made. This was not going to be my day to be a hero. I took a deep breath and acknowledged that I'd finish this on my own two feet and not in a stretcher, even if it meant swallowing pride.

Fourth Leg: Miles 16-21

I took my first short walking break at an aid station somewhere near Mile 16. I accepted a handful of ice, shoving half of it down the front of my sports bra and the other half down the back of my shorts. I watched two runners being helped off the course, looking dazed and disoriented. 

We made our left turn into a neighborhood called Lakewood Estates. The residents were outdoing themselves as usual, with a number of pop-up aid stations offering ice pops, "maple syrup shots", water, and a good hosing down. I ran through every single sprinkler and sipped water as often as I could manage. 

Mile 18 had a sign designating it the Musical Mile, featuring the band "Sciatica", who were encouraging runners with some version of hair metal. I heard a rumor that the band members' wives were all running the marathon. If true, that is awesome. 

I emerged back onto the main road and lumbered on toward the bike path. After mile 19, I decided to take a short walk break at each mile marker to keep my heart rate down. By now, it was a little difficult to put water into my body, so I was making a point to pour it all over my body. A man with a cooler was handing out soft, ice cold sponges. I gladly accepted one and squeezed it on my neck and temples. Relief!

Leg Five: Miles 22-26.2

Finally, I entered the Burlington Bike Path for the final 4.2 mile stretch of the race. It was isolated from crowds, but shady and mostly flat or downhill. I couldn't ignore the runners lying on the side of the trail being tended to by medics. I recognized one as a runner from the pace group at the beginning of the race. I knew I was moving slowly, but was so ready to be done with this race. A man urged me on with kind words: "Looking strong, Bean!"...To which I replied "Feeling like shit, but thanks for your support!"

I tried to ignore the one person shouting "You're almost there!" and "The finish is just ahead!" at mile 23. In a marathon, mile 23 does not feel like "almost there." It feels like I have 3.2 damn miles to go. 

I spotted Carly again, this time flanked by a race volunteer wielding a cowbell just before mile 26. 

I kept willing my feet forward. Finally, Waterfront Park came into view and throngs of supporters lined the finish chute. My view of the finish line was obscured by the crowd, but I knew it must be coming sometime soon and powered on. Feet hit the grass. I crossed the line and smiled. 

My official finish time was 3:39:12. 9 minutes, 12 seconds slower than I'd planned and 4 minutes, 12 seconds slower than the Boston Qualifying standard. I was the 268th runner to cross the line and 21st in my age group. 

Black Flag Alert

The finish line was the one part of this race that felt disorganized. It was crowded and I couldn't figure out how to exit the finisher chute. Once I managed to find my way out, I couldn't find a way to cross barricades to get to where I knew my sister was waiting. 

My phone rang. "Did you just hear the announcement?" Carly asked, urgently. She then repeated the announcement that had just been made over the loudspeaker:

Somehow, Carly and I managed to locate one another. I fought tears as I asked if she knew anything about Becca. The runner tracking system had alerted me by phone that Becca had passed Mile 22, but she hadn't finished yet. I found a race official and ask her how I would reunite with a stranded runner. My stomach rolled as I envisioned Becca pulled from the course mere steps from the finish line. Becca deserved to cross the finish line of this marathon so much. Not just because she had trained hard, but because Becca had just had a terrible, horrible week, nearly skipping the marathon all together to be with family. She'd decided to go through with the race at her family's urging. 

As we sat in the grass at the reunion zone trying to comprehend how we would find Becca and what on earth we would say to her when we did, Carly's phone buzzed and alerted her that Becca had crossed the finish line in a net time of 4:07:54. 

Fighting against the stream of the crowd, I shoved a few people aside and barreled back in the direction of the finish, where I smashed Becca into a sweaty hug. 

It turns out this was the day Becca Went Rogue. She had run upon the Mile 24 aid station when a race official announced that the race was suspended. "We thought they were going to stop you from finishing!"

"They tried to, but I didn't listen."

Now, as a lifelong rule-follower, I would typically encourage the heeding of public safety warnings. But, in this particular case, I was so relieved that Becca feigned ignorance, kept running, and got her medal. 

Check out the awesome sign Carly made for us. 

In the confusing minutes that followed in the crowded, buzzing finish area, I learned that "Red Flag" alert level signs had been changed to "Black Flag: Extreme Risk", which meant the event was discontinued. This decision was made when readings of the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature, a calculation that considered ambient air temperature, humidity, wind, and solar radiation, exceeded 82 at 12:58pm. The air temperature had reached 88 degrees. This was the first time in the race's 28 years that it had been halted.

At the time the cancellation announcement was made, only 478 marathoners had crossed the finish line. Ultimately, anyone who finished the marathon in under 4:30 received an official time, bringing the total to 932 runners. A little more than a third of the race field. 

As for the rest of folks? On our walk out of the park, we were met by dejected runners who'd been pulled from the course and were now hobbling off of sad school buses to reunite with their families. Among the runners not allowed to finish was my friend Dave, who had run all the way to mile 21 and was feeling strong when the call was made. In spite of this enormous disappointment after months of hard work, he managed to somehow remain incredibly positive. 

The fallout on social media has been predictably intense.  People have all kinds of strong opinions about the official decision to cancel the race.

After the Race

We returned home to shower. I found out that Laurel had finished the race in 3:36:59 and that my new friend Kailey had gone on to earn her BQ with a time of 3:31:33. 

We toasted not being dead with beer.

And salty, salty pickles.

The next morning, I took advantage of free medal engraving services offered downtown.

Although it was not the race I dreamed of, it is done. A part of the draw for me about racing is the unpredictability of it all. No matter how perfect your preparation, you never quite know what will come your way on race day. There are days when you exceed your own wildest expectations, and days when the sun beats down and you don't get exactly what you want. This disappointment left me wondering about continuing to test my limits, and it makes me want to do it all over again.

Sometimes, you just do things.

129 days to the Chicago Marathon. But who's counting?

Race Recap: Vermont City Marathon 2016, Part 1

On Sunday, May 29th, 2016, I ran the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, Vermont. It was my second ever marathon. My first ever marathon was Vermont City 2015. I returned this year for redemption, chasing a Boston Qualifier after experiencing a one second heartbreak on my first attempt.

This race was not lacking drama, and I'll not soon forget the day. In fact, I have so much to say about it that I will have to tell the tale in two parts. Feel free to skip the boring stuff.

To give you a vague idea of how things went down, I'll offer a list of some alternative titles I considered for this blog post:

Journey to Mount Doom

Black Flag Alert

Becca Went Rogue

The Day Before

Becca and I began our Saturday morning with an easy shakeout run on our familiar Charles River paths in Cambridge, MA. Accompanied by my fantastically supportive sister, Carly, we set out on our northward trek to Burlington. We stopped midway through the ride in White River Junction for car fuel, human fuel (lunch), and maple scented scratch tickets. 

I checked my email and re-read a note from the race organizers warning runners of the forecasted heat and humidity and outlining preparations being made to enhance runner support on the course. I guzzled water. 

Before checking in at our AirBNB, we visited the Sport & Fitness EXPO at the Sheraton Hotel and Conference Center in South Burlington. The pre-event was crowded with race volunteers, officials, vendors, and runners. I made a beeline for the SkiRack pacing table, where the pace team leaders (Vermont City Marathon offers led pace groups for 3:15, 3:30, 3:45, 4:00, 4:15, 4:30, 4:45, 5:00, and 5:30) were available to answer questions. Several runners with furrowed brows were already nervously chatting at the table when I approached, all appearing to have the same weather-related pacing questions. This being only my second marathon, I wasn't sure what to expect from myself on a day that was projected to be twenty degrees hotter than anything I'd trained in. Deep down, I probably already knew what the pacers were going to say, but I needed to hear advice spoken out loud from someone with experience. 

"How much should I expect to slow down? How do you approach a goal time in these conditions?" I asked, hoping so hard that the answer would be something along the lines of, "It'll be no big deal! You're good to go! Stick with your plan, man!"

That was not the case. "Based on the projected temperature, I'd expect pace to slow down by 10-15%." For me, that would mean giving up the BQ dream. 

He went on to offer some advice, "By the time you come off the Beltway, you'll know where you stand. You could stick with the pace group through the Beltway and reassess how you feel."

I added my name to the list under the 3:30 pace group, feeling informed, but no less anxious.

Next, we picked up our bibs and clear bags for race day gear check. We had Carly to carry our finish line items, so neither Becca nor I used the gear check service, but it was nice that the race offered it. We wandered the expo and tasted a beer, then dropped our bags off at our AirBNB in Winooski. 

Dinner was American Flatbread pizza in Burlington. They made me a fantastic vegan pizza. 

Back at our AirBNB, Becca and I assumed Legs Up The Wall position while she read a book and I watched the New England Revolution beat the Seattle Sounders 2-1. We climbed in bed to sweat through the night with no fans. 

Race Day

All three of us were awake and out of bed before alarms went off at 5:30 a.m. I swallowed my peanut butter and banana on English muffin and shoved Vega endurance gels into my shorts pockets before pinning on my race bib. We left the house at 6:50 and found parking easily on a side street a few blocks from the start line. 

The Start

The starting area in Battery Park was buzzing. We hopped in line for port-a-potties (I'm pleased to report there were plenty). The Vermont City Marathon & Relay, now in its 28th year, offers a Marathon, 2-person Half Marathon Relay, and 3-5 person Team Relay. Because of the events that unfolded later in the day, I'm not entirely certain how many runners toed the start line, but I believe I heard there were somewhere around 2,600 marathoners. We snapped a nervous pre-race photo.

As we lined up in the corrals, I located my college pal, Laurel. Thanks to the wonder of social media, Laurel and I had connected a few days before the race when we discovered we were both running the race and aiming to run about the same pace. We exchanged nervous hellos, inched ourselves up toward the 3:30 pace group, and caught up on the past 9 years in the five minutes before the national anthem played. The temperature outside was already creeping up over 74 degrees. 

At 8:00, the pushrim racers were off and rolling. At 8:03, the horn blared and a couple thousand GPS watches beeped as their attached runners crossed the starting line. Though I'm typically an obsessive (and annoyingly ignorant) headphone wearer, I opted to leave my music in my pocket so I could engage with my surroundings. 

First Leg: Miles 1-3

I grinned and did my best to weave around folks to stick with the pace group. Like last year, it was pretty much shoulder-to-shoulder for the first mile. We looped through downtown Burlington and up Church Street, which was pulsing with crowd support. 

I spotted the amazing Lauren on Beech Street at mile 1.7, furiously wielding signs for Laurel and me. Did I mention I have great friends?

Second Leg: Miles 4-9

After crossing back over the start line, this time in the opposite direction, we headed down a highway ramp north onto the Burlington Beltline (VT-127). The Beltline closes down just once a year for the marathon. Last year, I remember reigning myself in on this flat, open out-and-back stretch of the race. This year, I felt the sun beating down and the heat radiating off the asphalt. There was no shade.

I stayed with the 3:30 pace group here, and we were running a bit under planned pace with mile splits around 7:50. A few folks shared marathon war stories and made nervous jokes about the climbing temperatures. I'm pretty sure I uttered the terrible dad joke, "Hey, who turned off the fan?" when I noticed that the soft breeze had totally evaporated into a stagnant, soupy heat. I felt fine so far. As I passed through an aid station and grabbed a cup of water, I watched a race volunteer flip her sign from "Yellow: Moderate Health Risk" to "Red: High Health Risk". I know those volunteers were roasting out in the sun right along with us, and they were working so hard. (Thank you so much, volunteers)

A smile and wave from Becca as we passed one another in opposite directions refreshed my energy. After a climb back up the off-ramp from the Beltway, we returned to downtown and shade and sprinklers. 

Third Leg: Miles 10-15

Towards the end of the Beltway leg, I'd begun chatting with Kailey, who had traveled all the way from Ohio to run her third marathon. She was aiming for a BQ, too. She was a good story teller, and listening to her talk about running helped miles pass. Unlike all the races where I'd worn headphones and stayed laser focused, I was enjoying camaraderie. I spotted Carly just before mile 10 and felt energized by seeing her. 

We turned a corner and ran down Church Street. I heard my name and looked over to see Lara, who was here to cheer on her husband, Dave, in his first marathon. There were some nice downhill stretches and a band playing on Pine Street. The same man from last year was banging hammers on an upturned Rubbermaid container in a small neighborhood loop. 

These few miles went by, but they were starting to feel like work. I decided to ease off a little and let the pace group get ahead of me, but kept them in view. Laurel and I found each other again and chatted for a stretch before she, too, drifted ahead. I crossed the half marathon timing mat in the parking lot of Oakledge Park at 1:44:30. Still on pace to finish in 3:30, but I was starting to wrestle with my own doubts. I felt fine, but really hot, and my watch told me my heart rate was hovering around 180. I had taken water from every aid station and was feeling quite full, but still thirsty. I wondered seriously whether I was orchestrating myself a trip to a medical tent by sticking to the plan. It was time to decide: Barrel on and chase the dream, or check my hubris and ride out the storm?

To Be Continued...

You can plan a pretty picnic, but you can't predict the weather

After eighteen weeks and more than 530 miles covered, only four short days stand between me and the 2016 Vermont City Marathon.

By all accounts, it's been a wonderful training cycle. I maintained good health. I hit all my paces. I skipped exactly zero runs.

To say I've prepared myself would be an understatement. On my last long run, I wore my planned race outfit. It's now freshly laundered and already lying on my dining room table. I listened to my marathon playlist from start to finish. I arranged my route to mimic the elevation changes of the race course. I practiced slowing down for water stations. I made a plan for exactly where we will park, what time I will arrive at the start line and what I will carry with me. I studied the course map. I watched a turn-by-turn video of the marathon course...three times.

I feel strong and ready and totally in control of everything.

Almost everything. Weather is one of the few things I cannot control. The current forecast for Burlington, Vermont on Sunday is a balmy 82 degrees. It may not sound like much, but almost any running coach will tell you to adjust your expectations as the temperature creeps above 70. Here's one set of guidelines from Runner Academy:

 

And so, here I am, faced with the fact that, in spite of a nearly perfect training, I may have to scale back my expectations. You may or may not recall last year's missed-by-a-second Boston Marathon saga. I'd be lying if I said I don't desperately want to run a time fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon this time around.

But if I were to rob myself of a positive experience after all this hard work because I'm hell bent on one narrow, time-based goal, I'd be a fool.

These past eighteen weeks have been occasionally frigid,

sometimes grueling,

marked by new achievements,

filled with companionship,

and so much fun.

I've been practicing Yin Yoga during this training cycle. Unlike more active forms of yoga which emphasize strength, balance, movement and flexibility, Yin Yoga targets the connective tissues of the body through long held passive postures on the floor. Initially, I thought this would be a nice physical complement to running and lifting weights to give my hips and legs release.

Though the long held postures of Yin Yoga have indeed helped my dense connective tissues stay limber for this race, the biggest benefits, by far, have been mental. While flopped in a less-than-perfect, five-minutes-long pigeon pose, I've learned to rest with my own physical and mental discomfort. For someone who is constantly compelled to turn every part of my life into a competition, it feels unnatural just to sit and stew. I cannot successfully grit my teeth and will myself through the poses. In stillness, I am learning to acknowledge feelings and sensations that creep in without being able to control them. I'm not good at it yet, but I'm working on it.

The work for this marathon is done. Now it's time to trust my training, let go of control, and enjoy the experience.

See you on the other side!