The Joys Of Not Training

Something usually happens in the weeks after crossing the marathon finish line, a sort of post-marathon blues. It leaves runners asking “what’s next?” and searching for ways to fill the hours they’d set aside for training.

Not for me. Not this time, at least.

After my first marathon in 2009, I felt that sense of emptiness, the nagging need to tackle the next big challenge. This time around, a little more than a month after completing the Boston Marathon, I don’t feel even a slightest twinge of that.

Instead, I continue to feel the sense of pure accomplishment combined with a bit of relief.

During the past few weeks, I’ve simply reconnected with my love of running. I’ve been running when I want, how far I want and at what pace I want. If I don’t want to run, I don’t.

I’ve been appreciating the scenery a little more, taking in the fresh air and trying new routes. In fact, I’ve taken this non-training time to try new things.

Last week, I made a point to finally check out the Goffstown Rail Trail for one of my runs. This was a great change of pace and scenery, winding just far enough off the road to bring some peace and quiet to my run. I can’t wait until the bridge project to connect the Goffstown and Manchester trails is complete. It will open up a whole new world of trail running options.

I also decided to incorporate strength and core work by starting my mornings with Pilates. I’ve discovered the options of the On Demand channel and am totally hooked.

Last week also brought me to my first group bike ride – or should I say, I brought the group bike ride to me. I hosted the ride as a way to bring together many of my active friends for a fun ride through the country.

The group, not all of whom knew each other, melded together perfectly. I saw new friendships forming and riding partners pairing up for future rides. I’m certain another group ride will be in the works soon.

Last but not least, I did my small part of participate in the Commute Green New Hampshire Challenge last week. As you may recall, the weather was certainly less-than-perfect for a challenge asking residents to bike bikes or walk to work. For an event that was supposed to be helping Mother Nature, she sure wasn’t helping us out. Perhaps those opting for the carpooling or telecommuting options were the smart ones?

Commute Green NH set a goal of logging 50,000 miles by asking residents to replace their normal commuting miles with an alternative method. The results are still being compiled, but at last check more than 62,000 miles were logged by New Hampshire residents during the week-long challenge.

I thought it would be an interesting and fun experiment, so I juggled a few things around and was able to fit in two day of “green commuting.” A self-described fair-weather rider, I avoid my bike for the rainy week of the challenge, but was able to arrange to carpool to work for twice. At the end of the day, I ran home.

It was a funny feeling leaving from work knowing that I’d be running home. Even though the eight-mile distance was something I’d done many times, it somehow seemed much farther as I faced this point-to-point route. Once I got started, however, it turned into just another run.

In all, I logged about 50 miles in “green commuting.” (As a side note, I discovered that Commute Green NH didn’t offer a “run” option when I logged my miles, so I had to choose the “walk” option. I gently suggested to the group via Facebook that they consider changing the category to “by foot.”)

Overall, it was a really interesting experiment. I learned that commuting “by foot” (or bike) was completely do-able, although a little challenging. The logistics of transporting clothes and lunches, along with keeping a constant eye on the weather, means it won’t be something I will do every day.

But it’s something I’ll try to incorporate at least once a week during the summer months. At the very least, I’ll save a few bucks on gas and get a few more miles on the legs and bike.

And it will be another way to enjoy my non-training days.

Teresa Robinson is Community Relations Manager for the New Hampshire Union Leader. Her column appears in the New Hampshire Sunday News every other week. Her email address is trobinson@unionleader.com.

Commute Green Challenge ... Indeed!

Apparently May is National Running Month. It also happens to be National Bike Month.

I’m honestly not sure where some of these designated “holidays” originate or why these two sports would be celebrated during the same month. But in the interest of enjoying spring-time and the ability to get outside, I’ve decided to participate.

Commute Green New Hampshire is challenging New Hampshire residents (and out-of-staters who work in New Hampshire) to reduce 50,000 vehicle miles this week as part of its annual Statewide Challenge.

The group says this annual promotion is designed to get “you, your friends, neighbors, co-workers and employers to choose inexpensive, healthier and more environmentally-friendly transportation options.”

The idea is to save us money, help reduce stress, and get us to enjoy and preserve New Hampshire’s beautiful landscape. You can also log your miles on Commute Green’s website (www.commutegreennh.org) for prizes and discounts at participating stores and restaurants.

More than 60 New Hampshire businesses and schools have registered as part of the “team” challenge. Individuals, like me, can also participate by logging miles online.

We’re supposed to carpool, bicycle, walk and use public transportation to work, school, shopping and similar trips this week, which coincides with National Bike to Work Day and Walk to Work Day on Friday. (I’d assume if you wanted to run to work, that would be okay, too.)

I participated in National Bike to Work two years ago, just about a month after I got my bike. It was fun and different, and I swore I’d use my bike to commute to work more often.

It never happened again.

Biking to work certainly takes some planning, especially for those of us who can’t attend meetings in cycling-appropriate clothes and prefer not to sport the helmet-head look all day.

Luckily, I have access to a shower and locker room at work so I can do a modified version of my morning routine there.

However, my bike isn’t exactly a commuter-style ride. It doesn’t have saddlebags or any other way to carry my change of clothes, shower items or anything else I might need for the day. Definitely another obstacle to this bike-to-work idea.

After I decided to participate in the Commute Green Statewide Challenge, I asked a few friends who sporadically commute by bike or foot for advice. The most common tip was to plan, plan, plan.

Many suggested starting the workweek by car (sorry, Commute Green) to transport any necessities for my cycling or running days during the week. That means I’ll need to find a place to keep these clothes and other items. One regular bike commuter even suggested keeping a pop-up wardrobe in my office – advice that I won’t be taking, at least not for this one-week challenge.

Another helpful tidbit I picked up was to use the “transport day” to bring along food for the week, including lunches and snacks. Since I’ll be burning calories on your way to work, I’ll likely be hungrier during the day, and I’ll also need to plan a fueling snack before the trip home.

I’ve also had to consider my work schedule, which often takes me around town to various events and meetings. I’ve tried my best to cluster my off-site appointments to coincide with my “transport” day, but this definitely took a bit of planning. (I’m also paying for it the following week with a jam-packed week of meetings around town.)

As if all of these logistics don’t add enough of a challenge, I’ve also had to think about the basics, like the route I’ll take. My normal driving route takes me via the highway, so I’ll opt for a path through downtown. I still need to find a reasonable way to avoid Manchester’s Amoskeag Circle.

Oh, and there’s the weather. I’ve looked at the forecast and it doesn’t look ideal for someone looking to venture into green commuting, especially someone who is admittedly a fair-weather cyclist.

I think I’m remembering now why I only commuted by bike once. It’s not just as easy as hopping on my bike and hitting the road. Ideally, it sounds wonderful. Realistically, it’s tougher than you’d think. It will be an interesting experiment, indeed.

I’m looking forward to giving it a try, even if I only get in a day or two of non-motorized commuting. I hope to get in at least one bike-to-work commute and, fingers crossed, a run to and from work. I’ll log a little more than eight miles for each one-way commute I do.

At any rate, I’ll give it my best shot. Perhaps you will do the same.

If running or cycling to work just isn’t your thing this week, telecommuting and carpooling “count” toward the Statewide Challenge.

If that’s still doesn’t do it for you, a quick online search of wacky holidays showed me that today “National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day.” Now that’s something I can easily celebrate.

Teresa Robinson is Community Relations Manager for the New Hampshire Union Leader. Her column appears in the New Hampshire Sunday News every other week. Her email address is trobinson@unionleader.com.

Boston In 750 Words

The following NH Runner column appeared in the New Hampshire Sunday News on May 1, 2011.

I have what feels like an impossible task in front of me, something that somehow seems more difficult than running 26.2 miles two weeks ago. I need fit in the experience of the 115^th Boston Marathon into 750 words.

As one reader suggested, I might be able to do it if I use only adjectives. I’d go for words like “overwhelming,” “loud” and “impressive.” I’d throw in words like “exhilarating,” “life-changing” and “inspiring.”

A description wouldn’t be complete without words like “well-run,” “organized” and supported.” And, of course, I’d probably include a few words like ”tough” and “painful.” It is a marathon, after all.

There are so many things to share about the experience of running the Boston Marathon. It seems like the easy way out to say it’s something you have to do to fully appreciate it. But it’s true. There is really nothing like it.

The Boston Marathon is more than just a marathon. I knew that going into it, having stood on the sidelines for the past two years, I was not prepared for just how exciting it would be.

Simplified, my running of the Boston Marathon was both better and worse than I thought it would be. It was better in terms of the overall experience – the sights, the sounds, the sheer magnitude of the event. It was worse in running-related ways that reminded me once again to respect the marathon distance.

I crossed the finish line with my arms held high and a smile on my face, but what I’ll remember most about this experience isn’t anything about running.

What strikes me most is the way that this adventure has brought me closer to so many people, many of whom never knew Marathon Monday existed. A marathon, they thought, wasn’t something that people they know did.

Thanks to the power of social media and the Boston Marathon’s top-notch tracking system, my friends and family experienced a marathon in ways they probably never imagined they would. I, in turn, strengthened connections and friendships along the way.

The Boston Marathon bib number doubled as the chip-timing system that would track my official finishing time. It also served as a signaling device that would let my friends and family track me at every 5K mark.

As I crossed the giant mats that would record my time, I thought of the signal being sent out. At the time, I was mostly thinking about the information that was being transmitted to my coach, who I was sure was tracking my per-mile pace to see if I was keeping up with the plan.

As I crossed the finish line, it occurred to me that I really didn’t know my official time. It wasn’t until I’d gone through the process of collecting my medal, heatsheet, packages of food and water and other items, that I reconnected with my sweetie who told me my official time.

It hit me at that moment that my friends and family, some of whom were tracking me in various parts of the country and even into Canada and England, knew my results before I did.

Well-wishes and congratulations filled my Facebook page and email inbox. I was blown away by how much interest was taken in my run, from people I knew in elementary school to professional connections I’d made.

When I returned to work and regular life after the marathon, I was surprised to learn that co-workers and other professional contacts had tracked my run, feeling a sense of excitement as I approached the finish line.

A few days after the marathon, I attended the Greater Manchester Chamber of Commerce’s Centennial Celebration, during which I was bombarded with hugs and words of congratulations. The woman I was walking with at one point asked me, “Does everyone in Manchester know you ran a marathon?”

Pretty much, I told her, remembering that I made the conscious decision to share my marathon experience – the good, the bad and the ugly – publicly with so many people.

At the time, I never knew how important that decision would be. But now, I wouldn’t do it any other way.

The Big Dance: Boston Marathon Recap

There are a million aspects of the Boston Marathon that I want to share with you. There's so much to tell and I apologize in advance for the lengthy post. In time - and probably several shorter posts - I'll share even more of the smaller details. There is plenty to say about the sights and sounds, the inner thoughts and the all-around feel of the most prestigious race in the world.

For now, I thought it would be best to get some of the race details down while they're still fresh in my mind.


JUST GETTING THERE

The thing about Boston is that there are a lot of logistical details to take care of. I'm talking literally pages and pages of things you have to do, details of places to be and exact times to be there.

Having snagged a hotel in Newton, I opted to ignore the advice to use the shuttles from Boston to get to the start in Hopkinton. It just didn't make sense to me to take the subway into the city just to grab a shuttle back out. Oh, then run back in.

Instead, my sweetie agreed to drop me off at Hopkinton State Park - which, by the way, was a piece of cake. We hit minimal traffic and made it to the drop-off point in plenty of time. There was a line of school buses waiting as runners walked right up and boarded.

I gave my sweetie a quick wave as I boarded the bus, feeling kind of like a school-kid on the way to their first day of school. Their very long, hard first day of school.

The bus ride was relatively uneventful, just filled with constant, loud chatter. It was as if a group of long-lost friends had been put on a bus together - but in actuality most of us were strangers brought together with this common bond that made us instant friends.

The ride was quick enough, and soon we pulled onto a small side street. We streamed off the bus, thanking the driver on our way out. I chuckled at his advice to runners: "Don't run too hard today." He obviously didn't get this crowd.

We were quickly greeted by a cheery volunteer clad in a bright green jacket, a sight that would be commonplace throughout the day. More on the volunteers later, but needless to say they were invaluable to this well oiled machine. And, it must be noted, they were all friendly and happy to be part of it.

The walk to Athlete's Village was about a half-mile or so from where we were dropped off. We passed by the signs with big arrows pointing toward the starting line. Nearly every runner craned his or her neck to get a glimpse.

I instantly noted how cold it seemed. The temperatures were somewhere in the upper 40's and there was bright sun - not bad at all for a New England morning. But the wind was wickedly chilly.

While walking I ended up chatting with an older gentleman after he asked me for the time. It was his 25th Boston Marathon. Incredibly impressive.

What was even more impressive was that last June he had a significant health issue and ended up undergoing a triple bypass. "I'm just lucky to be here," he told me. "And you have to get 25 to get in the special club, so I wasn't missing this one."

By the way, he travels from Oklahoma every year to run Boston. It made me think about how lucky I am to have this prestigious, worldwide event practically in my backyard. Along the race course, I heard conversations in French, Spanish, German and Japanese.

I'll share more on Athlete's Village later, but for now I'll just let you know I made it and waited there for the my wave to start. And waited. And waited. As part of the slower runners of the race, I was part of the last wave to leave.

At last, my wave was called and we made our way to the corrals, shedding our warm-up clothing in the charity bins along the way. I made the turn and saw the sign for Corral 8. I was in Corral 5, quite a bit up the road. I picked up my walking pace and squeezed in just in time to start.


THE START

The funny thing is, I'm not really sure how the race started. I know there were a bunch of announcements and cheering. I'd found my running pal, Scott, who was running for Dana Farber, in my corral and made a bee-line to say hello.

We hugged and chatted as the race started. Scott was one of my first running pals, back when I first joined TNT and had never run a mile. There, at the starting line of the Boston Marathon, I couldn't help but remark at how far we'd come. I mean that literally and figuratively.

Scott and I ran together briefly, but we had different pacing goals for this race and respected each other's plans. We said good-bye and I trotted ahead.

The first couple of miles were crowded, but not nearly as bad as I expected. (I expected the worst, mind you.) I was able to find a spot and keep it, mostly. I was able to keep my pace in my targeted zone for the first phase of the run.


THE PLAN

The plan Coach Lauren put together for me divided the race into three parts. It mimicked, nearly exactly, my training plan for the 20-miler. I'd done that one on the course and, if I do say so myself, really rocked it. I felt intimidated by the Boston Marathon plan, but just kept reminding myself that I'd already done this. Well, I'd already done most of it.

My race plan called for me to average a pace of 9:30 per mile, which is a comfortable pace for me but would certainly be a stretch to maintain over 26.2 miles. It would bring me to the finish line in less than 4:10 -- a huge, huge PR. I'm talking 37+ minutes.

I was excited, if not daunted, by the possibility. I knew I'd put in the training and was ready to give it my best shot.

The plan was to break the race into three parts. Miles 1-10, I'd shoot for a 9:40 (+/- 10 seconds). For the next 10 miles, I'd go for Marathon Pace (9:30s with +/- 10 seconds). At Mile 20, I'd assess and "run by feel." My hope, of course, was to be feeling great and be able to pick up for the final Victory Lap miles. At the very least, I'd just aim to maintain my pace.

Yep, that was the plan.


PART ONE

I'll admit, I felt totally awesome. My running was strong and controlled. I had to consciously check my Garmin and slow myself down. The advice of every other Boston veteran I'd talked to went through my head: Go out slow, go out slow. You need stuff left in the tank (and the legs) for the Newton Hills. They weren't kidding.

I hit my goal paces for the first 10 miles, falling closer to the 9:30 mark than the 9:50 mark, but staying well within the plan. I love when a plan comes together! I thought about my splits being broadcast to Coach Lauren (and many others!) as I crossed the timing mat at the 10K mark. She'd be proud and happy to see I was on target.

I tried to soak everything in. The crowds of spectators and the sounds of the cheers were overwhelming and impressive. I tried to read every sign and waved when I heard the familiar "Go TEAM" shout from the crowd. I think I was smiling from ear to ear for those 10 miles. And I was looking forward to the next 10.


PART 2

By mile 10, I was ready to pick up the pace slightly to get to the next part of the plan. Again, I had to slow myself down a couple of times. I recall reading a 9:04 at one point and a 9:15. I tried to get it back to 9:20. C'mon, I told myself, It shouldn't be harder to run slower. It's a strange thing to experience.

I was able to hit the planned paces as I entered the Scream Tunnel at Wellesley College. Holy cow! What else can I say? It was completely incredible - with screaming college girls everywhere, holding signs, hanging over the the metal barricade in hopes of getting kisses from passing runners. (I saw a couple get them, too!)

By the time I hit the 13.1 mark - halfway! - I was still right on target. I crossed the mat at 2:05, exactly according to plan. The thought of actually getting that huge PR was sinking in. I still felt good and strong. I could keep this up for a while, I thought.

Yep, that's what I thought.

At Mile 15, I struggled to hit the plan. I'd stopped for some water or Gatorade and couldn't quite get back up to speed. I was quickly coming into Newton and would be facing the hills.

I tried to get back to 9:30s, but struggled to hit 9:40s. It was just a bit outside the plan, but I could feel the plan slipping away. The thought of running 11 more miles at this pace became a daunting task.

My inner thoughts must have been obvious. As I passed a coach for another charity team, he tapped my shoulder with The Stick he was holding. Just one more mile to go until you're only facing single digits. Bring it home, he said.

I smiled. Then I wondered if I really looked bad enough that someone would actually be cheering for me just to get to the single-digit mark. I must admit, though, it was way better than the "almost there" that some spectators love to shout when you're nowhere near the finish.

The next mile was tough, but I knew my sweetie, Coach Lauren and TNT pal Matt would be somewhere between 16.5 and 17. I scanned the massive crowd for them. I needed to see a friendly face at that point. I needed a mental boost.

Finally, there they were at Mile 17. I made eye contact. Coach Lauren must have sensed I was in trouble. As I neared, I saw her whip off her jacket, revealing her running tank and running shorts. It was just like seeing Superman ripping open his Clark Kent button-up shirt and revealing, the giant "S" on his shirt. Seriously, that's how it felt at that moment.

Do you want us, she called out to me in the crowd. I waved them in. Please, I thought.

Within a few seconds, Coach Lauren was on my left and Matt (who now coaches the Seacoast TNT team, but I met when I was his mentor last year) was on my right. I asked about my sweetie, whom we'd left standing on the sidelines with a pile of bags and gear. I felt bad for him once again being deemed the team sherpa, left to haul the bags around the city as he made his way to the finish line.

As she joined the run, Lauren asked a few questions about the race so far and tried to asses how I was feeling at that moment.

My biggest complaint was my legs. My quads were killing me, unlike any feeling I'd had on any other run I've done. It felt like someone was punching them with every step I took. At that moment, I knew exactly what all of those Boston vets meant when they said the first half can take a toll on your legs.

Coach Lauren talked me through the next miles, assuring me that I hadn't fallen that far off the plan and that I was still running a good race. I could feel my 4:10 goal quickly slipping away. I tried to avoid the disappointment and push forward to a PR, no matter what the finish time ended up being.

I avoided looking at my watch. (I didn't actually check my individual mile splits until the next morning, semi-afraid of what I'd find.) I knew I was way off pace. Lauren kept talking to me - and I needed that! - and pushed me through the hills. I made it up all of the hills - even Heartbreak - without walking, which was a great feat at that point.

I got another little boost mid-Heartbreak seeing my running friends and first TNT coach on the sidelines. I passed Scott's wife cheering at me from the sidelines a little while later.

Matt became my personal water-boy, fetching me water or Gatorade (whichever order I barked at him as we approached an aid station) whenever I asked for it. It seemed hot out there, the sun shone down brightly and I realized how much the weather was affecting me. I was gritty with the salt that had been drying on my skin from my sweat.

At one point, when I apparently couldn't stand it any more, I took off my RoadID band and handed it to Lauren - revealing a white band where it had been. Proof that it was sunny and my body was taking a toll.


PART 3

The third part of the race plan - which was pretty much out the window at this point - was to "run by feel." I tell you, it was a good thing Coach Lauren and Matt were there because, if i was on my own, I think I may have "felt" like walking. Actually, I know I would have.

My legs (specifically, my quads) were throbbing. The downhills were the worst. The pounding was unbearable. I felt like I was barely picking my feet up off the ground. I wondered how Coach Lauren and Matt, both of whom are much faster runners than I am (even at my "fast" miles) could possibly be running this slow. I may have even apologized at one point.

Then I started to feel the familiar tinge of a blister. I felt it on both heels. It was so sore with every footstep. I internally contemplated converting to a barefoot runner for the last few miles. Okay, it wasn't that extreme, but I admit the thought of taking my shoes off to relieve the rub against the blister was really inviting.

Miles 22-24 are pretty much a blur. The crowds were there and probably just as loud, but their shouts seemed somehow muffled. I knew I was running, but I felt like I wasn't "in" the race. I know it's hard to explain. I was there, but wasn't there.

I didn't do much talking - which, for me, is really unusual. I'm sure Coach Lauren and Matt sensed my struggle. But they kept with me, talking with me and keeping me going.

Coach Lauren suggested we try to pick up the pace in short bursts, a suggestion that honestly just sounded ridiculous at the time. But she's never steered me wrong yet, so I obliged. And it actually felt pretty good. We did this on and off for a while.

I can say without a doubt that without Lauren and Matt there I would have succumbed to my overwhelming urge to walk. I'm not sure I ever would have started running again. And I definitely wouldn't have even entertained the thought of running faster bursts.

At one point after she joined me, Lauren had mentioned that a 4:20 was still within reach. By now, without her even saying anything and without looking at my Garmin for the last several miles, I knew that was out the window, too.

I adjusted my goal internally to just get in under 4:30. It would still be a 17 minute PR.


THE HOMESTRETCH

At Mile 25, I looked into the crowd and saw a woman who I assumed was going through chemotherapy. She'd lost her hair, she was pale and she was wearing a surgical mask to protect herself from germs. Still, she was there in the front row of the Boston Marathon cheering on the runners.

As I passed, she saw my team jersey and pulled down her mask. Thank you, Team In Training, she said.

Wow, what an incredible moment. It was only later, after I'd gotten out of my late-mile-marathon haze, that I truly grasped the importance of that moment. At the time, I was only focused on the last mile. It seemed like the longest mile of my life.

Coach Lauren and Matt veered off just before the turn onto Boylston. It was a planned move. I was going to finish this thing on my own. I scanned the crowd for my sweetie, but the crowd was massive and there was no way I'd find him if he was there.

I made the final turn, happily, and headed into the homestretch. I could see the finish line in the distance. The crowds seemed to get bigger, if that was even possible. The cheers were so loud.

I looked up ahead as I approached the Finish Line, spotting a freakishly tall, costume-wearing guy with a crazy wig. There is no way I'm letting him into my Boston Marathon finish line photo, I thought. So I picked it up a bit.

As I crossed the finish line, the clock read 4:30-something. Huh? I looked at my Garmin, which read 4:27. I had no idea how long it had taken me to cross the start line. I didn't know my official finishing time. Had I broken 4:30?

I made my way through the long line of must-do's - medal pick-up, heatsheet wrap, banana, water and eventually found the bag I'd checked at the start. I wandered around, admittedly in a bit of a daze, to finally find my sweetie, Coach Lauren and Matt waiting for me in our designated spot.

My sweetie came out into the street, giving me the biggest hug I can ever recall getting. At that moment, I cried. And so did he. It was one of my favorite marathon moments, standing there in the middle of the hectic chaos that is the end of the Boston Marathon quietly celebrating together.

I still had no idea what my official time was. Luckily, thanks to the instant online tracking, my sweetie and friends could tell me exactly how I'd done. (Funny to think that my friends sitting at their computers miles away knew what my finish time was before I did.)

My official time: 4:27:01. It was a 20-minute PR for me. I felt a slight moment of disappointment (it still creeps in every now and then) for missing my race plan by so much, but realized that I'd had a huge day of a tough course.

Most of all, I'd toughed it out when the going got tough. I ran the best I could and didn't have any regrets. I wouldn't be saying any "I wish I would have's."


There you have it. My turn-by-turn experience of the Boston Marathon. It was better and worse than I thought it would be, all wrapped up in one. It was truly the experience of a lifetime, something that I recommend every runner put somewhere on their Bucket List.

More to come in the coming weeks. For now, thank you for all of your support in this most incredible journey ... so far.

A Case of Taper-itis

The Big Day is here. Almost.

I'm still working on the last-minute checklist for the Boston Marathon. The list includes the must-do’s, like checking into my hotel and getting to the expo to pick up my bib number, and the want-to’s, like buying the official Boston Marathon jacket.

It seems nearly impossible that race day is already here, impossible that I’ve gone through six months of training. It’s funny how time can move so quickly.

At same time, it’s funny how time can move so slowly.

While the last six months have been a whirlwind – filled with wintry runs, strength-training sessions in the gym and fund-raising efforts – the last few weeks have crept along at a snail’s pace.

The final phase of marathon training is the taper. My official trainingfor the past week or so has included instructions to run fewer miles, sleep more, work less, convert my diet to 70 percent good carbs, hydrate plenty and avoid anything that my cause me to get hurt.

Seems like it would be the easiest part of training, doesn’t it? It’s most certainly a welcomed physical change, but in reality it’s tough on the mind.

My mind tells me that I’m not doing enough to be ready for the marathon, despite the fact that I know that rest and recovery is an essential part of the training. My body is repairing the damage I’ve done during training and preparing to come out stronger and perform better than ever.

I’ve spent the last few weeks enduring something much tougher than the long runs. I’ve been suffering though a maddening case of taper-itis.

It started with marathon-related dreams, not dreams of the cheering crowds and smiles at the finish line. These were dreams of losing my bib number and dreams that, at Mile 17, I looked at my watch for the first time and realized I’d already been running for more then six hours.

There was my personal favorite dream during which I was forced to eat a heaping pile of Chinese food just before the run.

Luckily, I know this is perfectly normal. My marathon-running friends have shared their own dreams of their shoes being stuck to the pavement just feet before the finish line and dreams of getting lost during the marathon.

There was also my new-found obsession with checking the weather. I discovered nearly a month ago that Accuweather provides a very long-range forecast. I checked it nearly every day – not that it really did much good.

One day the forecast for Marathon Monday would be sunny and 70 degrees (way too hot for runners used to winter training). The next, it would read 40 degrees with a mix of rain and snow. I began to wonder if the meteorologist were just messing with us. Finally, it seems to have settled somewhere in the high-50s or low-60s with on-and-off clouds. Just about as perfect as we could want.

I chuckled last week when a friend of mine, also running the Boston Marathon, sent me a completely panicked email that the forecast had changed to 82 degrees. Apparently he’d forgotten that he switched the location on his iPhone app while traveling in Texas last week.

Yes, we’re all suffering a bit of taper-itis.

We’ve also done full dress rehearsals, literally. I “practiced” running in the pair of shorts I plan to wear. I tested out socks. I made sure my hair will be pulled back in a way that won’t bother me for 26.2 miles.

I tested race-day breakfasts, marathon fuel (I’ve settled on Swedish Fish, the perfect sugary addition I’ll need to keep me going) and figured out just when and what I’ll drink along the way.

I’ve planned race day logistics – getting to the starting line, wearing throw-away clothes to keep me warm while I wait for the race, and meeting people on the course (I hope) and at the end of the race.

I gathered bits and pieces of advice from Boston Marathon veterans, and prepared my race plan, mile by mile.

I even tried to get more sleep, spent less time at work and avoid anything that might cause a last-minute injury. As much as I wanted to get on my bicycle during last weekend’s spring weather, I couldn’t bear the thought of falling.

There’s only one thing left to do: Run the 115^th Boston Marathon.

*REMEMBER, I'm running the Boston Marathon to help save lives!**

We passed the $5,000 mark ... and we're still goingl! Please visit my fundraising page to support a good cause and learn more about a very special little boy. http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston11/trobinsy2v. Thank you for your support!

A Note To Caleb

Below is a text of an email I sent to little Caleb (via his mother's email address) in the days leading up to the Boston Marathon. I've thought a lot about this little boy - during the coldest of training runs, when I wanted to quit. Without even knowing it, he's taught me a lot.

Dear Caleb,

You don’t know me, but I want to thank you. I want to thank you for being strong and for providing inspiration and hope to more people than you will ever know.

I grew up for a short time with your Aunt Danielle, and, after we reconnected many years after moving apart, I learned about your battle with leukemia. I’d been involved in the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team In Training program for several years, and hearing your story suddenly made my work with them very real and personal.

I’ve watched you from afar via the Caringbridge website. I’ve been worried for you when the news wasn’t as bright, and I’ve celebrated with you as you’ve adapted into the lifestyle of healthy little boy. These days, I’m glad when we don’t hear from you for several days. J

You may know that I’m running the Boston Marathon on Monday in your honor. You have truly given me so much inspiration, and your touching story has helped raise awareness and funds to support LLS.

To date, I’ve raised nearly $5,000 in your honor and have been truly humbled by the generosity of people. The money goes to support research and also provides family support, such as assistance with medical co-pays, travel reimbursements, support groups, etc. You have helped many people who will be in the same shoes as you and your family.

Please know that I’ll be thinking of you at every mile on Monday, just as I have during these several months of training. Your name is proudly displayed on the back of my official TNT Boston Marathon jersey (I’ll get a picture for you!) and a photo of your smiling face will be greeting runners at Mile 15 and Mile 21 along the course.

In the meantime, I thought you would like to see a little clip that aired on the New Hampshire news station last night. (It was taped a while ago, so that’s why I referred to your birthday as “last month” … don’t worry, I know you’re way older than that now!)

WMUR VIDEO CLIP: http://www.wmur.com/video/27538982/detail.html

MY FUNDRAISING PAGE: http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston11/trobinsy2v

MY PERSONAL BLOG: www.my-step-by-step.blogspot.com

Thanks again, Caleb. Be well!

Your friend,

Teresa

*REMEMBER, I'm running the Boston Marathon to help save lives!**

I'm SO CLOSE to my goal! Please visit my fundraising page to support a good cause and learn more about a very special little boy. http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston11/trobinsy2v. Thank you for your support!

Sum Of The Parts

On Friday, just hours after I declared my Boston Marathon goal finish time, Coach Lauren offered a little nugget of important if not somewhat unexpected advice: Don't think about a sub-4:10.

The words, which came casually between sips of margaritas and the crunching of salty tortilla chips during a friendly get-together, came just hours after I'd agonized about publicly sharing my goal (read post here).

Even after writing the post last week and outwardly convincing myself that I could hit the chosen target, I honestly still wasn't sure. The thought of a sub-4:10 finish was still scary.

I should have known that I hadn't totally convinced myself after my latest marathon-related dream: I hit the 17-mile mark and looked at my watch for the first time. It read 6:33, as in six hours and 33 minutes. Yep, my sub-conscious definitely hadn't bought into my sub-4:10 plan yet.

I'm sure Coach Lauren could sense my reluctance and lack of confidence, too. I couldn't help but ask myself if I could really hit a sub 4:10. Logically, I knew it was possible. This is what I have trained for. Physically, it was possible.

But emotionally, was I up to the challenge? I know there's a big mental factor in running -- where your head is "at" can make or break you. Lauren knows this, too.

Perhaps that's why her next advice was as follows: Instead of a 4:10, think about 9:30s.

She was referring, of course, to my goal to average a 9:30 minute-per-mile pace next Monday during the Boston Marathon.

If you do a 9:30, you'll get the 4:10, she said. She said in such an easy, nonchalant way that it's almost as if shooting for the 9:30s is the only thing to do. As if to say, why would I be thinking of any other goal?

Sometimes it takes looking at something a little differently - and a little nudge by someone else - to put things into perspective.

After all, Mr. Miagi didn't teach Danielson how to become an expert at karate, did he? Paint the fence. Wax on, wax off.

I've gotta admit, a 9:30 pace seems totally do-able. Heck, I've already done that many times during training, including my long training runs. Doing it 26 times in a row doesn't seem impossible at all.

I'm anxiously awaiting my "official" mile-by-mile pacing plan, which I expect to start out at a slower pace, then gradually build up to marathon pace. And, if all goes well, some faster miles at the end. That's just my guess, based on the training to this point.

See, Coach Lauren is holding the official plan hostage until the end of the week, keenly aware of my tendency to obsess about "the plan."

Like running, coaching seems to be only partly about the physical training. Good coaches - like Lauren - know how to get inside their student's head and train them for the mental parts of the marathon, too.


*REMEMBER, I'm running the Boston Marathon to help save lives!**

I'm SO CLOSE to my goal! Please visit my fundraising page to support a good cause and learn more about a very special little boy. http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston11/trobinsy2v. Thank you for your support!

Boston: I'm All In

I've never been one to shy away from having specific, tangible goals. In fact, the more detailed they are, the better.

And, I've never been afraid to write them down. (See the annual "To Do" list on the side of this blog, as an example.) I recently found a notebook that had some bigger bucket-list-type goals scribbled inside the cover. To date, I've done all but one. See, writing things down as always been in my nature.

Writing down goals helps me focus. It motivates me. And, probably most importantly, it keeps me accountable. That's not to say that I'm holding myself accountable to anyone other than myself. I do, however, see a big value in sharing your goals with others. Again, there's a level of accountability that comes with that.

So why, when it's coming down to the time when I should be shouting my goals for the Boston Marathon from the rooftops, am I having such a hard time putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as the case may be)?

I've already decided what my goals will be - from the general "feel good" goals to the specific time goals. Heck, I've spent a lot of time running and thinking about this race - and thinking just how I'd like it to be.

Last week, I asked Coach Lauren her thoughts on a time goal for me. I'd been training with "marathon pace" miles for months, so it shouldn't have been hard to figure out that she had a time goal in mind. A quick visit to an online pace calculator could have told me what she had in mind. But I wanted her hear her say it.

Apparently, she had the same thought. Her response? I have a time goal in mind, but I want to hear what you think first.

Ah-ha. Caught at my own game. See, it's sometimes easier for someone to tell me what I should do, then I go out in do it. If she told me to run a 4:20, that's what I'd try my hardest to do. If she told me to shoot for five hours, that's probably where I'd come in, regardless of my ability to do better.

It's harder, I think, to take a critical look at one's self and come up with with a goal. I didn't want to sell myself short, but I didn't want to be over-confident. I needed something that was realistic, yet ambitious.

My reply back was convoluted, to say the least. I think I threw out no fewer than five different time goals, ranging from 4:15 to 4:30. Turns out, we were in the same ballpark. But in true "coach" style, she upped the ante just a bit.

Here's a bit of her reply:

You’ve proven to me that a 9:30 pace is more than doable for you. You just ran almost 21mi with the last 6mi averaging 9:15 pace and the overall pace being 9:29. To me, this run showed me you are very capable of maintaining this pace for an entire marathon ... The fact that you killed the run should be a huge confidence booster for you and your ability. Now what is a 9:30 pace finishing time? 4:08:54. Yes, I think you are capable of a sub 4:10 marathon."

What?? I stopped reading and focused in on the number: sub 4:10. She's totally lost her mind, I thought. Let me put this into perspective, I finished my last marathon (my only other marathon, mind you) with a 4:47. People like me don't run sub 4:10s, I thought.

It was as if Coach Lauren was inside my head and heard the words of self-doubt creeping in. The next line of the email is probably the most important:

Now you just have to believe you are also capable of it because it doesn’t matter at all what I think.

She is totally right. I need to believe I can do this. And logically, looking at my training, I know it's do-able. I mean, I've been training for a 9:30 pace all along. I've been strength training and doing the speed workouts. I've followed the training to the letter. I just need to trust my training.

So, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going for it. I'm going to do my darnedest to run this sucker in less than 4:10.

Let me be straight with you. It won't be easy. It scares the crap out of me to even think about. It will probably be the hardest thing I've ever done. But I can do it.

As I write this, the thought of hitting the "publish" button is almost as scary. It feel exposed and vulnerable. Part of my trepidation of putting such a lofty goal in writing is just the fear of failure. It's a kind of fear that is at the essence of my being, not just when it comes to running. Whatever I do, I like to do it well. Plain and simple, I don't like to fail.

If I publicly share my goal, I run the risk of sharing my failure.

But what's the worst thing that can happen? The world ends? People shun me, ridicule me and think I'm a complete loser? Really, I know none of those things will happen. In fact, I'm positive that no one would be harder on myself than me.

If anything, the support I'll get from others is worth the risk of publicly failing. After all, if I don't make it, my supporters will just be cheering for me louder the next time, right?

Let's not think about that. Let's focus on the goal.

Sub-4:10 will become part of the plan. Not surprisingly, I'm not going at this haphazardly. Coach Lauren's pacing plan for race day will reflect that goal.
Sub-4:10 is the number I've mentally tattooed onto my brain.
Sub-4:10 is the number I'll be repeating to myself at countless times along the marathon course.
Sub 4:10 will be the basis of my marathon math on race day.
Sub 4:10 will be the number I'll see as I click 'stop' on my Garmin when I cross the finish line.

Yes, folks, I'm going for it. I know I have a big goal ahead of me. I'm reaching for a 37+ minute PR. I'm pushing myself way outside my comfort zone.

But if the Boston Marathon isn't the place to go all in, what is?

*REMEMBER, I'm running the Boston Marathon to help save lives!**

I'm SO CLOSE to my goal! Please visit my fundraising page to support a good cause and learn more about a very special little boy. http://pages.teamintraining.org/ma/boston11/trobinsy2v. Thank you for your support!