His First Race

My Charming Friend finished his first race yesterday -- not that I had any doubt that he would follow through on his commitment to run Concord's Rock N' Road Race.

He did a pretty good job -- very good, actually -- especially considering that we haven't been running much lately.

CF agreed to the run the race as part of the wedu team, which I had joined in exchange for having their team captain at my table for a Big Brothers Big Sisters breakfast earlier this year. In my world, it's all about bartering and exchanging favors.

During one of our few practice runs, CF had completed 3+ miles (although perhaps there were some walking points in those runs?), so I didn't have a doubt that he could do it. Plus, being his nature, I knew that the race atmosphere and the energy of the crowd would pull him easily through the 3.1 miles.

And, as he later told me, he drew upon others for inspiration. "If they could do it, so could I," he said of some not-so-physically fit people in the crowd.

CF showed up in brand-spankin' new running clothes, definitely looking the part for the day and ready to run. (I was a bit disappointed that he didn't show up in padded Spandex like he told me he would.)

We made our way to the Big Bell on the State House lawn, where we were to meet the rest of our team. The rest of the team eventually joined us (I say eventually because I'm sure CF will point out that we were precisely on time and the others were late).

We laced on our timing chips, pinned on our numbers and headed to the Start Line. And we waited some more.

Then it started to rain. Oh, and it was cold.

Certainly not a great day for a race. I told CF once again that he's a good sport. I think it was probably the tenth time I'd told him that day.

The starting gun went off and the 5,600+ runners and walkers slowly took off. The rain came down and soaked us for the first mile. CF didn't complain and just kept running.

He didn't even stop at the chocolate covered strawberries or the straw hats being handed out to runners. (Maybe he just wanted to get the race over with?)

We spent the rest of the race people watching and commenting on runner's body shapes (and studying the extremely defined calves of a runner in front of us).

Soon enough -- in just a little more than 31 minutes -- we crossed the Finish Line. CF had finished his first 5K. I was so proud. He took it all in stride -- and talked about ways we could have made better time.

But for me it wasn't about the timing clock or distance or anything else. It was about doing something I enjoy with someone I enjoy spending time with. There'll be plenty of ways to improve our time for the next race.

Yep, the next race. CF's already given me the OK for me to sign him up for another 5K next month.

Either he's crazy or really likes me -- or maybe a bit of both.

That Doggie In The Window

I'm a sucker for puppy eyes. And Rebel knows it.

Sunday was the first day that I didn't take my furry running partner (not to be confused with my Charming Friend) with me on the run from my house.

It was in his best interest, but he didn't know that.

I woke up Sunday morning with thoughts of getting a longer run in. I had planned a 10-mile run with Scott and Erin on Saturday, but after a mishap with my lawnmower and a couple of house showings scheduled for the day, that didn't happen.

As I laced up my shoes, Rebel thought it was his cue. He ran excitedly to the landing at the top of the steps, waiting (somewhat) patiently for me to buckle his collar and leash.

Sorry, Buddy, I said. Not today.

It was 9 a.m. by the time I got around to the run. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was somewhere in the high 50's.

I knew Rebel's double fur coat would be too much for him and that he wouldn't make the whole run without needing many water breaks.

Luckily, the 2 1/2 mile mark is the lake's boat launch where he can lap up the water and wade around to cool off. But I was planning to do the whole 7 miles around the lake, so there wouldn't be another water break for the poor pup.

I think Rebel sensed he might not be coming with me, so he bounced down the stairs and sat in front of the door -- looking expectantly at the doorknob, then at me with those puppy eyes.

Pleeeese, Mom, he seemed to say.

It was almost enough to make me cave. But I resisted, knowing that as much as I wanted him to run with me, it wouldn't be good for him.

I called him to the top of the stairs, apologized to him and gave him a good pat on the head. Again, the puppy eyes stared at me in disbelief.

As I crouched down to pet him, he even gave me his version of a hug -- he puts his paw up on my arm and snuggles into me. It makes my heart melt every time. I'm sure he knows it, too.

I won't be long, I told him.

It was the first run I'd done without him since I started running in August. We were a team, running buddies. How could I leave him?

I apologized again -- do dogs even know what the word "sorry" means? -- and headed out the door.

I heard a few barks from the house as I made my way down the driveway. (He never barks when I'm leaving the house.) Wait for me, he was telling me. Pleeease.

I turned around for one last look. A little face peeked out through the curtains in the picture window. Even from the end of the driveway, I could see the puppy eyes.

I took one deep breath, felt terribly guilty and turned out of the driveway to run.

It turned out to be a good run. I concentrated on some of the things Coach Jack had talked about on Saturday to improve form and efficiency. Plus, I didn't have to stop for any pee breaks along the way. How can Rebel can possibly lift his leg 15 times in a 3-miles run?)

By the time I made it back an hour later, Rebel had mostly likely forgotten about the episode. I'm sure he didn't feel neglected or abandoned.

Nonetheless, I gave him some extra love when I got home -- and made up for it with a trip to the dog park later in the day, where he met up with his pal (although I'm not sure the feeling is mutual), Bogey and some other new-found friends.

Maybe the hardest part of marathon training during the summer months is going to be resisting those puppy eyes.

Returning the Favor

When I woke up Saturday morning, I listened for rain -- even before opening my eyes.

I had told myself that if it was raining I wasn't going to run the Big Lake Half Marathon in Alton. But I didn't hear the sound of raindrops on the windows, so I reluctantly peeled my eyelids back to face the morning.

Within a few minutes, I was dressed in my running gear and packing a bag of things to keep my body fueled throughout the day -- a couple of GU gels, jellybeans, a banana, an orange, Gatorade and water. (I didn't end up eating all of those things, but thought that it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared.)

I met up with Erin in Rochester so we could carpool to Alton, where we filed into the parking lot with the other runners. (Neither of us had an official number for the race after some last-minute changes in plans, so we decided we'd jump in at the starting line and jump out before the chute at the end of the race.)

We found Coach Jack and the TnT-ers in the school gym, dressed in their distinct purple singlets. Erin and I both wore TnT shirts, convincing ourselves that it wouldn't be as bad to 'illegally' run the race if we were there to support the other TnT-ers.

We lost the group somewhere near the starting line. As the race started and we made our way around Alton Bay, Erin and I chatted about nothing in particular -- running stuff, personal life stuff, plans to run the Maine Marathon (she's also signed up).

Somewhere between Mile 3 and 4, Erin decided that she was going to turn back. I felt pretty good and knew I could finish the 13.1 miles, so I kept going.

As I ran up the steady incline along Route 11, I found myself passing bunches of runners. From time to time, I'd end up chatting with the person next to me for a moment (wearing a Team In Training shirt sparks a lot of conversation).

There was a woman who told a story of running an Alaska marathon with TnT -- and having the race diverted because a moose was crossing the trail. And there was a TnT-er from the Boston team who was running her first half marathon. Then I caught up with Kara, one of my fellow Disney teammates.

Soon afterward I found myself running alone for a while. The steady incline continued and I made my way up the hill, taking in the views of the Lake Winnipesaukee. I passed an entertaining mile marker at Mile 5 that featured loud disco music, people in leisure suits and bubbles in the air.

And then Scott found me.

Scott's training for a marathon in San Diego on June 1 and was working on his longest run of his training on Saturday. He arrived before the race to get in 7 miles and would complete another 13 with the race.

Somewhere along the route, I told Scott that I felt bad that I didn't have a number and was running unofficially. He said not to worry because I was there supporting him today as part of TnT. Maybe he was just helping to rationalize my race entry, but it did help to know that I was helping him that day.

During the half marathon at Great Bay last month, Scott really pulled me through the last few miles. If not for him, I would have done a lot of walking. I couldn't take the hills anymore and just wanted to quit. He helped me mentally finish the run.

So Saturday's Big Lake was just the opportunity for me to return the favor.

I could tell that somewhere around Mile 8, Scott was getting less interested in talking. (It was Mile 15 for him.) He was approaching what is sometimes referred to as the Bite Me Stage -- a point at which you just want to finish and hidden parts of your personality will leap out at whomever is nearby.

Scott just got quieter, so I ceased the small talk and just focused on running next to him -- encouraging him up the hills, offering whatever fuel I had in my pouch and generally just moving forward.

As the mileage increased, so did Scott's pace. By the time we met up with Erin at a water stop (she stayed to help out during the race) around Mile 10, he was running at a pretty good clip.

Erin and I picked up with chit-chat as Scott continued his now-silent run. I could tell he just wanted it to be over. We offered some words of encouragement here and there as Scott neared his 20-mile mark.

As we make our way down the straight-away to the Finish Line, Erin and I left the pack (running unofficially, we couldn't run through the timing chute at the end). Scott continued to pick up his pace and press on toward the finish, determined to hit the 20-mile mark that day.

We lost Scott in the crowd at the Finish Line, which is unusual because he's 6'5"-ish and usually easy to spot. Erin and I hoped that he made it through the Finish okay and figured that he just wanted to get home and left immediately after the Finish.

I finished the 13.1 miles feeling pretty good -- it was the first time that I actually felt that I could have kept running, not that I was just pushing myself to finish the race.

It also felt pretty good that I could help out a fellow TnT-er. It's one of the great things about being part of a team, even if not officially.

When 13.1 Isn't Enough...

What are you doing October 5, 2008? If all goes according to plan, I'll be running the Maine Marathon. Yep, that's right. I signed up.

Now what?

Decisions, Decisions

I have a couple of decisions to make in the next week or so -- and I don't know why I can't make up my mind.

I need to decide whether to run the Big Lake Half Marathon on Saturday (yes, less than a week away). And, on a bigger scale, decide if I'm up for training for a full marathon.

The first one is a relatively easy decision. I told myself if I ran 10 miles yesterday (which I did) that I'd sign up for the Big Lake Half in Alton. So I guess that's what I'll do -- despite the fact that the 10 miles wasn't a great run.

I'm hoping I can attribute a less-than-quality run to the fact that I stayed up until 12:30 a.m. the night before, probably didn't fuel up as well as I should and felt as if I just need to get the run in so that I could make my 10:30 a.m. can't-be-late appointment to head to Maine for the day.

So, with my mind set on running the half marathon on Saturday, I guess I only have one decision left to make: Should I train for a full marathon?

I almost typed "Can I train for a full marathon?" but then decided to change it to the word "should" because I truly think (thanks to my experience with TnT) that I can do it.

Last year at this time, I never imagined that I could run a half marathon -- let alone be preparing for my fourth of the year already. And I know the people I've watched train for full marathons with TnT never thought they could do it. But they did.

And I can, too.

Despite that (sometimes wavering) sense of confidence, I still can't make up my mind about whether I should give it a try.

For starters, I can't decide which full marathon I'd like to try. I'd love to run the Chicago Marathon -- which would give me a chance to meet up with college friends and see the city where I lived in high school and college. I've thought about the Toronto Marathon -- which would bring me back to the city where I was born. And I'm considering the Maine Marathon -- which is on the next TnT training program, is nearby and would lend the support of fellow TnT-ers and family members.

Even if I could decide which one I wanted to try, there's part of me that wonders if I'd have the time I'd need to properly train. I also know that training for a full marathon will take a lot of dedication and some changes in lifestyle habits.

With the nagging part of me that keeps saying that the half just isn't enough, I'm sure I'll eventually get there. I just need to decide when, where and how.

My Charming Running Partner

The first person I told after I signed up for the Disney Half was someone I didn't really know very well. I'm not exactly why that is. Why didn't I tell my family, long-time friends or even co-workers?

I've come to know this person (whom I refer to as my Charming Friend) a lot better since August, and it turned out he was one of my biggest supporters during my Disney training (despite his somewhat sarcastic comments posted on this blog).

Throughout my journey, my Charming Friend has toyed with the idea of taking up running. (I try to contain my excitement when he talks about it -- thinking of what it would be like to have a steady running partner and thinking of the opportunities that training runs and races would give us to spend time together, get in shape and support good causes.)

I contain the excitement because I don't want to get my hopes up. I also don't want to be a nag or put pressure on him. I want him to run because he wants to run, not because I want him to.

You can imagine how hard it was to play it cool when he told me he just returned from Runner's Alley with a new pair of shoes. (Okay, so the shoes sat in the box for a few weeks (maybe more), but he still took the first step of buying them.)

I talked him into coming with me to the Fitness Expo before the Great Bay Half Marathon a few weekends ago, where I'd be picking up my race number for my third half marathon of the year.

Our first stop at the small expo was what I'll call the Remedies-For-All-The-Things-That-Can-Go-Wrong-With -Your-Body Booth: IT Band and knee braces, chaffing remedies, blister prevention, toe caps (I bought some of those), nipple covers (don't ask), shoe inserts and a bunch of other things designed to deal with problems that might arise while running.

It certainly wasn't a place I should be bringing a non-runner whom I hope will become my running partner, but he didn't seem to flinch. (Didn't start running right away, but it didn't scare him off entirely.)

A few days later, My Charming Friend did his first run -- a mile by himself on the concourse of the arena where he works. I was really proud, but tried my hardest to avoid gushing with compliments when he told me. (Don't scare him off, Teresa, I told myself.)

I wouldn't say he enjoyed his first run entirely -- I wish I could post an audio file of the voicemail message he left me about his aching shins, sore arches, throbbing back and the list of other ailments that his first mile had thrown at him.

But it still wasn't enough for him to quit. (I doubt that quit is in his vocabulary.)

The next day I joined him for another mile around the concourse -- a much slower mile, he told me, which I pointed out might be part of the reason he was hurting so badly after his first run.

He still didn't feel right, so brought his shoes back to Runner's Alley, exchanged them for another pair and chatted with the manager for a while about possible problems and fixes.

Not long after that, we ventured outside for a three-mile route in downtown Manchester that he created on www.mapmyrun.com -- which actually included scaling a brick wall (obviously not shown on the website route).

Three miles and he did it. And he finished strong, sprinting to our finishing point.

Again, I played it cool, congratulating him mildly on his accomplishment and patting him on the back (I know it drives him crazy to have his T-shirt pressed up against his sweaty back, so that move was partially congratulatory and partially intentionally annoying.)

He tried to play it cool, too, but I know he was proud of himself. (He sent a couple of text messages off to co-workers telling him he finished the three miles.) He also used the phrase "farther than I've ever run in my life."

TnT-ers use this phrase a lot. There's nothing like the feeling of running farther than you've ever run before.

And there's nothing like having a Charming Friend who takes up running -- or at least is willing to give it a try.

This Little Piggy ...

I have eight toenails.

In case you're wondering, I have 10 toes. But only eight toenails.

This toenail deficiency is a recent thing. It officially happened last weekend, although it's been a while in the making.

The day after my Disney race, I noticed that the second toe on my right foot was particularly tender. I wasn't sure why. It felt as if the tenderness was coming from underneath my nail. I couldn't see anything wrong with my foot, but it definitely hurt when I put pressure on it.

I chalked it up to the effects of my first half marathon. Could have been a lot worse, I told myself.

The next day, Ericka, a fellow TnT-er, ran the full marathon. Later in day, she complained of a painful toenail. Hers was worse -- she could feel and see the fluid build-up under the nail. I think she may have even tried to pop it. (Ouch!)

I didn't think much more of my toenail pain, but as the weeks progressed and my running continued, I found my nail getting yellowed - almost bruised. Eventually, it felt loose - almost as if I could flick it right off of my toe without any effort at all.

I did nothing, figuring if my body decided it was time for it to go, it would fall off.

Then recently, probably after my next half marathon, the same thing happened to the second toe on my left foot. Although the pain wasn't nearly as noticeable, that toenail suffered the same nasty process, yellowing, bruising and loosening.

Yuck. What had I done to my once-decent-looking feet? (At least I've been told my feet are nice ... well, were nice. No one's seen them lately. And at this rate, I won't be showing anyone.)

I stopped at Runner's Alley last week to pick up some socks and GU for my upcoming half marathon. While checking out, I decided to ask the woman behind the counter about my toenail mishap.

"Happens to people all the time," she said. She then asked me a series of questions: did I have my shoes fitted, how far did I run, how often does it happen?

She told me about the tendency for the foot to tighten during long runs, pushing the toes against the top of the shoe. She told me about various ways to lace the shoe to avoid pressure on the toes. But, basically, she told me that there's really not much I can do.

Great, another battle scar? Aren't the scars on my knees and shoulder from my fall enough?

Giving my nails a little trim on Sunday, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I made my way to the loosened toenails and gingerly started cutting. And kept cutting and cutting.

I discovered a fresh, new toenail growing underneath. I cut the old toenail all the way back. The new one was extremely delicate and thin -- like a baby's fingernails -- but it was definitely there. The right foot looks better than the left, but I'm hoping that the left one keeps growing into a full nail.

Just before writing this I decided to do a little research. (Like everyone these days, I consider 'research' to be typing something into an online search engine and trusting the information that pops up.)

I googled "running toenails" and found a host of website with stories and advice. The woman at Runner's Alley was right. It does happen all the time.

The consensus of the websites was simple: After ruling out possible causes (shoes that don't fit, socks that are too thick, running in hot weather, etc.) and watching for ongoing problems (extreme pain, infection, etc.), just deal with it.

I guess that's what I'll do.

I just hope my brand-new, baby-like toenails make it through the Great Bay Half Marathon on Sunday. They're only a week old. I don't want to lose them yet.

Running Is A Team Sport

Below is a column that appeared in Foster's Sunday Citizen yesterday. Couldn't have said it better myself.

Andy Schachat: Running not a team sport? Think again
Sunday, March 30, 2008

As we begin another year of road races I feel compelled to comment on a recent story involving a couple of high school runners. That's because the message I want to convey from the story symbolizes my attitude about the sport. I also hope it serves as an inspirational message for the upcoming season of races.

In Vermont there is a rule that allows high school athletes from one school to compete for another if the original does not have a program in a particular sport. However, there is a catch: the rule only applies to team sports, not individual sports. Two young runners hoped to get an exception to the rule so they could join another school's cross country team. The two young men were denied their request and won't be able to run cross country in high school.

What does that have to do with us? What kind of "inspirational message" am I trying to convey? The notion that running is not a team sport.

Yes, I know that technically running is not a team sport but, if you are a runner, answer this question: doesn't the camaraderie, support, and spirit of the sport feel like you are part of a team? For those of you who played team sports, doesn't the feeling you get from being in a running club or joining dozens of others at races seem like it did when you played basketball, football, baseball, or hockey?

Running is not a team sport? In running, there is definitely strength in numbers. How many times have your training runs gone a lot smoother and felt a lot better when you ran with others? There is a reason why running clubs host weekly training runs and why club members get up early on a Saturday or Sunday morning to meet their fellow runners for one of those runs.

Every runner you know can tell you dozens of stories about training with others as part of the preparation for a big race.

How about the grueling track workouts? Those repeat quarter, half, and full miles, circling the track while busting a gut. I have tried track workout by myself and believe me, it isn't even close, the difference between solo track workouts and workouts with others.

The races themselves often offer a team spirit, especially during long races. Again, I defer to the stories of the running community. Runners can readily recall the many times a marathon or half-marathon effort was much easier with a partner running side by side.

Shorter distances can also create a team atmosphere. I will never forget one of my first races, the Bunker Hill 8K in Charlestown, Mass. In the second half of the race I wound up running side by side with a runner who was struggling. Then, in the last half-mile I slowed up and fell back. He turned to me and said, "get up here." If it wasn't for him I would have faded down the stretch. On that day, for that moment, we were teammates.

Then there are the intangibles that exist in a sport where everyone supports everyone else.

That famous line in the movie, "there is no crying in baseball" is replaced by "there is no booing in running." Ever see a faster runner taunt a slower runner? Attend a running club meeting, listen to the mutual support everyone offers each other, and you will find yourself wanting to go on a training run when the meeting is dismissed. Believe me, there is an infectious energy that comes from the group mentaility the sport of running offers.Interesting thing to consider when comparing the team sports to running. In team sports some of the team members are playing while the rest of the team is on the bench or sidelines and in most cases it is over half the team that is watching. Not in running. Everyone who shows up gets to participate.

I used to be an avid basketball player. That all changed when I started running and the biggest factor that kept me running and away from the hardwood was the camaraderie I felt from the local running community. It far exceeded anything I had experienced from my local basketball leagues.

So, what is my point? As we kick off the 2008 road race season take time to appreciate the "team" atmosphere of the sport. If you are new to running, take advantage of this atmosphere and soak it all in. You won't be sorry. It will make the upcoming months a much more rewarding and richer experience for you.

Memo to the young Vermont runners: you are welcome anytime.

Andy Schachat writes about running for Foster's Sunday Citizen and Daily Democrat. You can contact Andy at 608 Cocheco Court, Dover, N.H. or email at aschach@tttlc.net.

Everyone Has A Story

I had my first Saturday off from work in several weeks and couldn't pass up the opportunity to get back for a run with the team -- despite the fact that I had a 4-mile race on my calendar for later in the day.

But the April Fools' 4-Miler, the third in the race series I signed up for, wasn't until 11 a.m. That gave me time to get 6 miles in with the team, then head to Salisbury for the race.

Crazy? Probably. But how else was I going to fill my day off?

Actually, it wasn't that bad. The 6 miles with the team went well. I was glad they were running relatively slowly. Coach Jack ran with us and we chatted for a while. Then I ran with another team member, Shauna, who recently lost 100+ pounds and discovered a love of running.

Her weight loss really triggered a completely new life for her. In fact, people don't even recognize her, she told me. She lost the weight through good diet and lots of exercise. Last fall, she and her sister trained for and completed the Manchester Marathon. Good for them.

On Sunday, Shauna took at left at the Old Mobil to get 7 miles in for the day. I took a right and finished up the 6-mile loop. I was concerned about time and that my legs would be too tired for the race.

I made it back to my car in plenty of time, stopped for a bagel and drove to the race.

Once at the registration table, I picked up my number and another long-sleeved T-shirt (another something to wear to bed, I guess) and searched for the Starting Line, which wasn't visible from the registration area.

I spotted a couple of older ladies wearing jackets with the logo of the running club who was hosting the race. I figured they would know where to go.

So I walked with them -- discovering that one of them had just turned 87 years old. Yes, 87 years old and walking to the chilly start of a 4-mile road race. Oh, by the way, she had cracked a rib a few weeks earlier, but thought she'd be well enough to finish. And finish she did. (I looked for her on the results page posted on CoolRunning.com.) Good for her.

Near the starting line, runners huddled up against a big building that blocked the wind. I struck up a conversation with the runner next to me -- a young woman from Scarborough, Maine, who signed up for the race series with her husband.

As we chatted, she told me that she's in training for an Ultra Marathon --- 50K. That's 30+ miles.

Her big run is coming up in a few weeks. On Sunday, she was planning on running a 20-mile race from Maine through New Hampshire to Massachusetts. She's run the Disney Marathon for 9 years with her husband and this year did the Goofy Challenge, where participants run the Half Marathon on Saturday and the Full Marathon on Sunday.

To look at her, she didn't look like a super-athlete. She just looked like anyone else in the crowd for the 4-miler. We ran together for the first couple of miles of the race. I asked her a lot of questions about an Ultra Marathon -- mostly trying to understand what would drive a person to do such a thing.

She liked a challenge, completes three or so marathons a year and was looking for something new. So why not run 50K? Well, good for her.

I finished the race in 37 minutes, 40 seconds - averaging a 9:20 mile. I was very pleased with the time, especially considering the race actually made for 10 miles for me for the day. Good for me.

It's really interesting to meet to people and hear their stories. Everyone seems to have one: the runner who lost 100+ pounds and decided to train for a marathon, the 87-year-old woman who's still running races, the Ultra-Marathoner... and me.

Wake Up, NH!

It's officially spring in New Hampshire.

Despite morning temps in the teens and the threat of snow showers on the evening news forecast, the calendar says spring. We have longer days, stronger sun and can walk comfortably from the parking lot to a building without being whipped by winter's wind.

This winter has been particularly long and cold. Our first snowfall on December 1st was a doozy, and it just got worse from there. We've endured snow piles higher than I can remember and have teetered on breaking the record for the all-time snowiest winter. In New Hampshire, that's quite a feat.

When we finally change the clocks to make for longer evenings, feel the slight warmth of the sun and even see a hint of grass under the melting snow, we know spring is upon us.

As I ran my long run on Sunday, I couldn't help but notice something new -- signs of life.

I saw children playing in their driveways, passed a few walkers and bicyclists, heard the sounds of water running in the once-frozen brook and saw a handful of robins hoping along in the yards. Rebel was even able to take a drink out of the melting lake that we pass about five miles into the run.

For the past few months, it seems, I've been the only one crazy enough to be out. I can't remember the last time I passed a bicyclist or someone walking their dog.

I've endured some pretty cold temperatures, snow and anything else winter could throw at me in order to keep up with my training.

As the rest of my neighborhood hibernated inside their cozy homes, I was out there putting one foot in front of the other. At times I could smell their fireplaces and pictured them sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire while they curled up on the couch on a Sunday morning.

Part of me wanted to be like them -- relaxing in my PJs in the warmth of my house, not having to worry about whether I was wearing enough layers.

Instead, I ran, the wind and cold hitting my face so hard at times that I ran with my gloved hands against my cheeks. I pictured them looking out their window thinking, "There goes that girl and her dog again."

Some might have thought I was extremely disciplined and dedicated, but most probably just thought I was crazy.

There were plenty of times I didn't feel like going out, but I knew I had to if I wanted to run the Disney Half Marathon. So I did. And then I kept going.

The funny thing is that I actually came to enjoy it. If I missed a few training runs, I didn't feel as good during the day, I probably ate more than I should and I even felt a bit guilty at times.

I figure if I made it through the winter training season, the warm weather might help me enjoy running even more. I won't be something I have to do, but something I want to do.

As satisfying as it is knowing that I toughed it out through the winter while everyone else was inside, it was nice to see signs of life along my running route this weekend. There's only more to come.

Wake up, New Hampshire. Spring is finally here.