Challenged

That's a nice way of saying what I am this morning: challenged. When really what I feel is spent.

 

There are three self-imposed challenges for the year going on, and right now they're all twisted and tangled and it feels like a lot.  Here they are, not necessarily in order of importance: 

 

1. Learn to stop eating like an asshole. A normal day for me for the past 35+ years: coffee for breakfast, some kind of sando/salad/soup/snacks for lunch, 5-10 pieces of chocolate or maybe a 1/2 lb bag of m&ms over the course of the afternoon, and some kind of meat and wine for dinner, usually after a day with 2 workouts totaling 1.5-2.5 hours.

 

I am 7 days into the Whole 30. Nothing processed. No dairy (normal for me), no grains, no legumes, no booze, and definitely no sugar (holy crap). I'm at that point where my energy is really low. I'm also at the point where I had to use the next belt puka and I am not craving sugar so much every afternoon. I'm learning to like eating breakfast, and waking up a little bit hungry, for the first time ever. A normal day now: A big plate of eggs scrambled with kale/tomato/mushrooms thrown in, a huge salad covered with veggies and steak or chicken for lunch, and salad with a little ahi/mahi/ono for dinner. If I need a snack, which I sometimes do before the evening workout, I have Justin's almond butter straight from the pack, or a pile of dry roasted mac nuts, which come easy around here.

 

I have the lack-of-carb flu. I am exhausted and want to nap a lot. It goes away, I remember from last time I ate well, but it's hard to get through. I ran 12.5 miles Monday morning feeling like my upper body wanted to curl in on itself. Then I paddled hard for an hour at practice in the evening. I was too tired to bother with dinner afterward. HK and his oldest had to do a little jump up and down jig while singing please please please to motivate me to drive home to them. I couldn't muster the energy. My body misses sugar. I haven't figured out how to get enough calories yet without the junk, and I'm barely making it to 1000-1500 a day, with something like 20g of carbs. I'm working on getting better. I'm not going to lie: I don't like vegetables. Or fruit, really, with a handful of exceptions. But I hate my sugar addiction, and the mood and energy swings and gut disruption a 1/2 lb of peanut butter m&ms do to me even more. I am too old to live on candy.

 

2. Trail running/an ultra marathon: I signed up for the Tantalus Triple Trek. It's Karen's fault. She did it too and somehow made it sound like a smart idea. The race is 3x the Tantalus race I did last weekend, for a total of 50k, at the end of August. I'm 70% committed, I'd say. Maybe 50. I 50% believe it's possible. I will train for it and see what the day brings. I bought my first ever pair of trail shoes. I've added an hour+ trail run to my usual training each week. This morning, Stacky and I ran the Maunawili Exhibition trail. It was beautiful. HK got up with me, put on all his running stuff, then climbed back into bed and refused to get out. He's eating clean with me, and I think at his size (200+) and with all his weight lifting, the lack of junk is taking an even bigger toll. I'd call him lazy, but he made me a big eggy breakfast post-run, so that'd be ungrateful and bratty of me.

3. Challenge #3 has been brewing for a while. I took a leap and started a business. I've been quietly coaching a few athletes. Some triathletes, and some runners. I have a lot of beginner runner friends who wanted workouts, so I started a group email list to send out their weekly workouts. Then I got a name. And a logo, and a coaching certification, and a trademark, and a website that's almost ready to share. And with each step I took, more athletes popped up asking me to coach them. Mostly for run races, which I consider my arena, but some for triathlons as well, which I'm happy to do. And instead of saying no, I don't have the time, I'm sorry, I started saying Yes. Because I love it, and I do have the time to do something I love. I'm getting 4-5 hours of sleep per night these days, but once the start-up is over, I expect that to get better. I realized at some point, that while I work in science, I sure as hell don't love anything about science. At least not dirt science. But I absolutely love the science of training, and making training plans for my friends. Whether it's mine and KN's Chicago Marathon sub-3 plan, based on a mix of a little Jack Daniels, a little Hansen's, and our years of experience, or it's a Kona plan for a Kona-virgin based on my 4 happy Kona Ironman races and what I learned, or a sprint plan for a new triathlete - I love working out the details. So I'm doing it. More details on the working out the details soon.

Weekend Racing

First race of the weekend: Mango Madness!

 

 

Mango Madness is a 10+ mile trail run that goes up/over/under/all-around Tantalus. Since my first trail race, about a month ago, I made a point of running a serious hill workout once per week. My favorite is Kamehame Ridge, because I start at Sandy Beach:

 

 

And it's pretty brutal for a mile or so in the middle there, but 35 minutes later, this is my view of Waimanalo:

 

So the good news is that I didn't struggle quite as terribly this time, maybe thanks to all the hill practice. But, it was still really hard at times. The first 40 minutes or so was straight up a trail called Hog's Back that made everyone let out a collective ohhhhhhh during the pre-race meeting. Luckily, I didn't know what Hog's Back was, or I might have just gone for a road run. From there, we hit concrete hill, something beyond what I consider the top of Tantalus, and that I didn't even know existed. It's was a bit over a half-mile of straight up on a road too steep for asphalt. At the top, the first 50 of us were sent down a trail for another loop - we had to do it again! After my second trip up the concrete road, I knew it couldn't get any harder. I talked to so many fun people along the way. I was completely turned around and felt like I was running to Kailua at one point, but my new friend Kelly and I booked it down to the bottom of the mountain and managed to stay on course. I finally found my old friend pavement at the two hour mark. When I got to the park where the finish line was, there was a surprise: put your forehead on the baseball bat and run around it three times, then balance a mango on a spoon while you run across the park to the finish line. It was awesome. But I can't remember being more tired at a finish line, ever. My toes were cramping (I should've brought food or drinks on the trails, but I haven't really worked out how people run carrying liquids yet) and I couldn't do anything but sit down. I loved it.

The rest of Saturday was spent recovering. Then on Sunday, it was time for the Kailua regatta. It was this guy's 109th birthday:

 

He showed up about 4 minutes too late to see my race, but I didn't give him too much flack, because he's old and feeble now, or so he says.

 

I raced with a crew of amazing women, most of whom have won the Molokai Channel at some time or another. I was seat 5 again. This photo from my FB friend Kalanakilaokalahui shows what a gorgeous day it was. In spite of the photo, we actually won by about a boat length. Paddling was my first love, back before I found running, and it's always fun to be in a fast boat and win some hardware.

 

Kailua Regatta means a long day at the beach, lunch at Buzz's (home of the BFRD: big rum drink or something like that), and a party overlooking the whole of Kailua. The mini-HKs are home for the summer - and really, that's all he needs for his birthday.

(No, I don't have a mustache, a tree stabbed me the face during the trail race.)

 

I'm not nearly as sore after Mango Madness as I was after the first trail run, but still, this week is going to be about recovery. Then next week, I'm ready to start raking in the miles with fall racing in mind. It's time to find 100 mpw again.

Summer Fun

This is hardly a running/tri/mom blog right now. The kids left two weeks ago. I miss them terribly. But, I also feel like I'm on vacation, even though I'm working 40h a week, because of all the me-time before and after work. I've been filling the time with running, paddling, scuba diving, and surfing. We just had the second big south swell of summer. We surfed these spots:

 

Headed out to Turtles

Tonggs, from KN's lanai.

Me and my little brother Patrick (the middle one), paddling from the boat to Turtles, in the middle of Maunalua Bay, where the surf was entirely too big for me. But it was an adventure, and the sunrise was gorgeous.

 

At paddling, we won our race in the first regatta of the season. I'm the one in 5 with the inspector-gadget arm. KN is also paddling, but we're in different crews. She is still considered novice, since it's only been a couple of seasons. I started when I was 10, so I don't get to train with her, but I do get to race with some other badass women, so it's still really fun. HK is the assistant coach, which makes it even more fun.

 

I need a next event. It's time to train for something. I'm running another trail race Saturday (please, God, let it be easier than the last one), and that's all I've got. I haven't committed to an ultra, or a marathon, or anything, really. In some ways, it's a nice respite for my busy brain. But really, who am I kidding. I need some focus in my life. Any suggestions?

 

For now, it's going to be mileage. Last June and July's 100 miles/week goal set up a good fall of running, so I start building now. I'm at 60ish, just because that feels right. Maybe 66 next week!

Gratitude

Hi...KN here — for a change. Once upon a time, I was an enthusiastic training and blogging partner, but many moons have passed since I've been able to keep up with either. Now that RR is launching exciting plans, it's time for me to sign in just long enough to sign off and cheer for her new venture.

A fierce work schedule for the past 18 -24 months has kept me under the radar. A few injuries and the flu slowed me down; a broken coccyx (when an otherwise useless tailbone keeps you from running for 10 weeks, you refer to it by its rude name) stopped me entirely. During this time, I also sent one child off to college, which I thought would sort of lighten the parenting stress. But no.

Chris at age 2.

Chris at 20.

This week, Alison graduates from high school before heading to the east coast for college in August.

Baccalaureate line-up, one week before graduation.

Watching Alison SUP from our balcony before she heads for a place where
"out on the water" really means "a river that freezes."

My perpetually fit, stoic, and dignified father is not well and requires assistance. And nine years after my former husband was diagnosed with a terminal neurodegenerative disease, David and I got married.

At RR's suggestion, we had a simple ceremony at Kukio Beach in Kona. No guests or gifts. Just an ukulele.

With maile lei & gardenias.

RR & Hawaiian Ken gave us the best wedding gift ever:
A Mike Field painting of the wedding site.

At some point, I'll have to leave Hawaii. But I'm not going talk about that now.

Blogging (reading more than I write, I'll admit) has provided a way to reminisce about the adventures RR and I shared while working full-time and raising children, which makes them even more remarkable. So many painfully early mornings on daily schedules run with the precision of a military operation! You need to be three places simultaneously? You are exhausted? Sometimes you don't know how you will get through the next day? We can empathize. That was what we wanted to share with everyone — along with some encouragement to challenge yourself to strive for your goals and find the good stuff in life.

In addition to our personal responsibilities, we managed to support one another through 10 Ironman races — including 4 Kona for RR and 3 for me — at least 4 half-ironman events together, Escape from Alcatraz triathlon, marathons in Las Vegas and Chicago, too many half-marathons, shorter triathlons, and other multi-sport competitions to count, and a 41-mile world championship outrigger canoe paddling race from Molokai to Oahu. We traveled together. Shared teeny hotel rooms. Exchanged clothes and gear. Pushed and encouraged each other. Waited patiently when the other was struggling. Provided a safe place for occasional tears.

Don't get me wrong: It's not over. RR and I are paddling again this year, albeit on different crews. She's already made the senior boat (think Olympic level!), while my aspirations involve changing sides without fumbling the blade. We want to run the Boston Marathon next year, where I hope she can coach and pull me under that magical 3-hour mark, and I suspect another something big may be on the horizon. It's not ending, but it is changing. So thank you, RR, for the gracious invitation into your talented and entertaining world.

To the next journey!

Stairway to Heaven hike with RR.
Need we say more?

My first HURT.

I did my first HURT (Hawaii Ultra Running Team) trail race today.

I last practiced trail running on Thanksgiving weekend, 2011, in Makawao, Maui, where I chased some stony mountain bikers around. I figured I was ok at it, because I kept up. Turns out it's more likely they were just really, really stoned and slow. 

Before that, my last trail run with during Escape from Alcatraz. Some of that Presidio stuff counts as trail. I had the best run of my life there. I think that was spring of 2009.

In college sometimes I would run the fire trail up through Strawberry Canyon into the Berkeley Hills, but it was hard to focus on the trail running when all I was ever thinking about was being mauled by a mountain lion. 

Suffice to say, my trail experience is limited.

Here are some things I noticed:

1. The HURT trail runners are so nice they make all us road runners seem like complete and total assholes. The girls who passed me slowed to introduce themselves. Seriously. Everyone was so sweet and kind to each other. It was like Woodstock or something, but less dirty.

2. Running a hilly trail race when not recovered from a hilly marathon is not a good idea. I walked up many of the hills, because my HR would top 200 bpm on even the slightest slope. You think I'm exaggerating, but I'm not.  It would have been so disheartening, if it weren't for all the kind friendly folks who introduced themselves as they passed.

3. The niceness must've worn off, because Stacky waited for me at the top of all the hills I walked. Then, when we got to the final half-mile downhill stretch (on the pavement - the sweet, sweet pavement), he was waiting there for me to finish with me. 

4. My 9-mile trail race time is slower than my current half marathon time: 1:29 or so, today.

5. I got a potted carrot plant as a prize for being a top 10 woman! (Probably only 10 women showed up.) Live prizes, as long as they aren't puppies, are the best prizes ever!

6. I was worrying about the wrong thing. I didn't think my ankles could handle it, but they did. My right eyeball had an unfortunate run-in with a pine needle somewhere in the last few miles, and everything got really blurry. It's still blurry 8 hours later. My eye-doc friend says it's a scratched eyeball or something and it'll go away if I ignore it. I am typing left-eyed right now.

7. The buffet. Wow. Everyone brought something, it seemed, and all of it was amazing. Fresh fruit, veggies, salads, homemade breads and cookies and muffins, wraps - even if I hadn't run, that food would have been worth the $15 entry fee. 

8. I cannot begin to fathom how people run 100 miles on trails. That is seriously amazing. The next  HURT race is 10+ miles on June 8, and I will be there. Hopefully with some hill-climbing legs. It was harder than any road race I've ever done, but the views were incredible (hence the name: Run with a View) and it was so much fun.

The rest of the day went like this - a little time in the water with some of Team Kailua - Todd, Brig, Cara, and the kids.

First Time for Everything

I got a surprise in the mail last week - a new swimsuit from Splish. Not just a new Splish, but a whole new, never seen before Splish style for me to test out. So I wore it to paddling, and it stayed put. Thank goodness, because that was the day the coach had us paddle right up the Ala Wai, with five lanes of traffic and countless tourists walking by. I wanted to wear it surfing this weekend, but there was nothing to surf anywhere on this rock. Then, on Sunday, I felt the pressure of the new Splish, and agreed to swim. So for the first time since August, I dug out my goggles and swam. It was a gorgeous morning that turned out to be the calm before the storm, and Brigitte, Todd, Mark, Ikaika and I walked down to Lanipo to this view:

 

 

 

As usual, we headed for the beach on the island on the left. I was afraid I wouldn't remember how, but within 10 or 12 strokes, I found my rhythm and kept up. It was just as clear as it looks. We saw a ton of reef fish, a turtle, and a pod of about 30 brightly-colored humans heading out as we came back in. Ikaika hasn't gone for a swim since I quit (if I were writing up an elementary school report card, I'd be unlikely to check the self-motivated box), and he swam better than ever. My goggles died of old age during the 9 month swim break, though, and leaked like mad.

 

I'm sore today, and I've got paddling practice tonight. Poor lats and shoulders.

 

It was an ocean filled weekend. I skipped the 5k because my ankle hurt during a 20 minute evening run with Sky on Friday. I think a couple of days off (well, 4) are in order. After watching the Kentucky Derby and drinking my first ever mint julep on Saturday, we headed west. Yokohama (below) was a desert, so we picked a random beach along the highway that faced west, I put on my wetsuit, and we went shell-diving. Check out the loot - all in about 30 minutes of getting tossed in the steep west-side shore break.

They'll clean up nicely - soaking at home now.

We hit the Chinatown Cinco de Mayo block party for tacos and margaritas on the way home and found some sombrero'd amigos.

 

 And then I took the first step to one of this year's goals, and signed up for my first trail run - a nine miler put on by HURT this coming weekend. I might air-cast my wobbly ankles pre-emptively. Or I might just run carefully and hope for the best.

5k

Sky and I did a running photo shoot for lululemon this weekend at Diamond Head. I love her banged up knees - one is bloody, and the other has a band-aid on it. She fell out of a tree half-way through the shoot, and her bony little elbow matched by the end. Nine is such a great age. She's smart, and says crazy funny things. She has a quick dry with that I've never seen in someone so young. She has so much confidence and spunk. She is the opposite of what I was at that age - I was shy and insecure and generally not very happy. I find myself thinking every day: don't f this one up. She's currently running for school president, even though she was the new kid in school this year. She still tries to climb into my bed at night to snuggle, and when my hair turns into dreads on a morning run, like it did today in the rain, she shows up in my room with her brush and offers to help. Man, I hope she stays sweet. The teen years are coming all too fast, as her oldest brother has shown me. I'd write a paragraph about how sweet and fun to be around he is these days, but I'd be lying.

 

Back to the training. Friends keep asking what's next? I don't know what's next. I'd like to do an ultra this summer, but I haven't committed. There's one in Pacifica the same day as my little brother's wedding in Berkeley, but I don't really want to feel like I need compression tights and socks at a his big event. I also don't want to pay to travel to CA twice in one summer. There are only a couple here, and we don't have the big fire road "trails" that CA does. My little rolly ankles would have a much better chance of surviving 50k or 50 mi in CA.

 

I finally got around to post-Boston analysis. Here's how it went down:

 

5k: 20:19 (6:32/mi)

5k - 10k: 20:51 (6:42/mi)

10k -15k: 21:11 (6:49/mi - there it is - that's what most of my 5k splits in the 2:58 mary were)

15k - 20k: 21:43 (6:59/mi)

20k -25k: 21:56 (7:03/mi - stopped to talk to Ikaika for a while in there for some dumb reason)

25k - 30k: 22:36 (7:16/mi - let the hills begin)

30k - 35k: 23:07 (7:26/mi - hello Newton Hills! Felt like 9+ per mile)

35k - 40k: 22:19 (7:10/mi)

 

Total: 3:03: 53 (ave pace 7:01/mi)

 

This, my friends, is what it looks like when you kind-of don't care about the race. The marathon is too long to not care and do well. I didn't feel bad about my race at all, because the overall time didn't bother me, until I broke it down like this. Even now, I don't feel too bad, I just feel like going back to Boston in 2014 and running even splits and breaking 3h. I want it, now.

 

I'm running a 5k this weekend. I haven't run one in four years. I keep telling myself I remember the pain, but really, I don't remember the pain. If I did, I wouldn't have signed up. I saw the start list - I don't even have a shot in hell at the top three around here lately. That's ok, though, because I only feel recovered about 50% of my runs right now, so Saturday is hit or miss. I have no idea if I'll feel like a runner or a tree sloth, and I won't until the race starts. I signed Ikaika up, too, because misery loves company. I looked it up - my last two 5ks (in 2008 and 2009) were on this same course and were 18:17 and 18:25. I'll be happy with anything faster than the first 5k in Boston: 20:19. Well, maybe less than 19:59.

 

 

 

Boston and NYC pictures.

Race morning. I was relaxed, but not that relaxed.

 

For Boston, evil Marathonfoto upped the price of a single race photo to $50. So I zoomed in on that one from David's phone, and that, paired with the one that Ikaika took of me climbing Heartbreak Hill are my "official race photos."

 

I run with my eyes closed. 

Hills at mile 21 are mean.

 

Post-race, the Four Seasons had a beautiful set-up, including a congratulatory cupcake for finishers. The burger was awesome.

 

From there, things went downhill in Boston quickly. So let's just jump on ahead to NYC. We drove back down to the city first thing Tuesday morning. Even though it was nice to be there, and in David's lovely home, I wanted out of the Boston area.

 

We did the touristy stuff right off the bat:

 

Top of the Rock. I liked this view better than the Empire State! And no lines or crowds.

Times Square

Brunch at my former Timex teammate Ian's place in Norwalk, CT - this was on the way up to Boston. Pre-race mimosas turned out not to be a bad call.

 

The Hyatt Grand Central upgraded everything when they learned we'd been at the marathon. Room overlooking Grand Central, wine and strawberries at night, and Club level, where you can hang out on the outside patio and eat fresh baked cookies (and real breakfast, if you want) all day long.

 

In New York, we slept till 10 or 11 every day, wandered the various neighborhoods during the day, and went out at night till 2 or 3 am. It was perfect. We didn't have much of an agenda. We just explored.

At the Yankees game Tuesday night, they did a nice tribute to Boston and the Sox. I forget who won the game, but it was awesome. I could sit at MLB games daily and be happy.

We jog-hobbled through Central Park each morning (noon). Ikaika chose the people to take this photo by saying Look! They look old and slow to steal my phone.

The NY Public Library and Bryant Park were just a couple of blocks away, so we spent time lounging in the sun there daily, eating our bagels.

 

My cousin Brian posted on FB that he was in NYC, so we met up to watch his friend play music. I hadn't seen him in 5 years. We closed the place down at 3 am, and I don't know what is going on in this photo, but I can tell you it was fun.

 

We shopped across Soho, bar-hopped from Chelsea through Union Square and the Village, and had dinner with friends on the Upper East Side. We had a great lunch at the rooftop restaurant of Eataly with a friend I hadn't seen since 5th grade. We tried to not think too much about Boston and just enjoy the trip, although I was following the news incessantly.

 

And then we came home. I couldn't wait to hug my kids. But now I'd like to go back to spring in NYC, please.

Boston.

I am rarely at a loss for words. Seriously - this almost never happens.  But I'm posting a week after my race because until now I didn't even consider sitting down to write. I didn't have it in me. Not because I have some major trauma or anything. Nothing happened to me. I am one of the lucky ones. What do I say? Do I write about the race? About the child that died watching his father race? About all the limbs lost and lives forever changed? About my inability to sleep Monday night, because every time I drifted off I dreamed I was searching for my children at the finish line? 

My mom keeps calling to ask if I'm ok. If I'm sleeping. If I have PTSD. I'm fine, I tell her. I am, because really, I feel nothing but fortunate. I cried a lot on Monday. I can't tell you how many times I have cried for the family that lost their 8-year old son. I can't tell you how badly I want a rewind button, or psychic powers, or some instinct that could have gotten everyone away from those bombs. 

I can't think of anything better to do or say, so I'll just write about my day.

In Boston, Ikaika and I stayed with David (a.k.a. KN's husband) and he was a wonderful host. He knew where we should be, when. He took us out to an amazing pre-race steak dinner, and got Ikaika to the half-way point to see me go by during the run. The Davids were the best support crew a girl could ask for. I slept well and woke up happy on race-day, with little anxiety or stress about the race. I reminded myself that it was just a catered long run, and that 26 miles is really not that big of a deal. In a way, it was nice that I had no real goal. I was worried my sore ankle might keep me from running, and that in itself made finishing the goal, instead of that sub-3 I tend to chase. 

Ikaika, David and I picked up my friend Kelly and drove down to the start. She was also injured, but she was optimistic. We said good-bye to the Davids at the Hawaii House, and Kelly and I hung out there, about 200 ft from the start line, warm, safe, and happy, for a while, then did a mile warm-up run. My ankle was sore, but functional, and it hurt less as I warmed up.

I found my friend Corina in corral 3 a few minutes before 10 am, but not Andrew and Scott, who I had hoped to run with. The gun at Boston in surreal. It's hard to believe you're really there. It takes a minute to get to the start line, even when you get a good seed up front. Corina and I ran 6:30s through the first 5k. Too fast, for me, really, but what the hell did I care? At mile 3 I stopped for a moment on the side of the road and told myself to commit to some plan. I felt like I was all over the place - scatterbrained. I had a plan, but no commitment. I decided to stick with running the first half at under 1:30, then see how I felt, with sub-3 as the goal. At mile 8, my legs got tired, but I didn't feel like I had to stop. I thought it was too early for the level of fatigue in my quads, but really, there's not much I could do about it. I settled into a 6:45 minute mile pace, but it wasn't easy. I found my friend Scott at mile 12 and we talked to the half, where I saw Ikaika and David on the left side of the road. I stopped running, kissed Ikaika and said I'm fine, but I really don't feel like running sub-3 today. I will finish though - see you there. It was such a lovely mental break to see them. I'm not all alone in the world! Something about running without music, without a partner, in a big sea of fast people, made me feel so lonely. I have never felt more alone in a race. I'm not sure why I stopped, except maybe that I needed to just talk to them.

This is the biggest crowd I've ever been in while running sub-3 pace, which makes it a little funny that I felt so lonely. David took this photo, and if you click on it, you can find me (waldo in yellow) and see just how packed the course was. You can also see why I was surprised by the course, even though I've been here before. In my mind, net downhill meant flats and downhills. Nope, this is not downhill.

 

I went through the half at 1:28 something - faster than I did in Chicago. Really, sub-3 was within reach. But I didn't go after it. It wasn't in me. I decided to run comfortably for the back half, with all the hills, and enjoy the sights, and tried to back off to 7:15 - 7:30 pace. But 7:30 pace felt harder than 6:45 did. So I picked it back up, and started racing up the hills. Miles 17-21 are insane. Straight down, or straight up. There really is nothing else. I hated the ups. I hated the downs. The spectators were too loud with their shrieks and cowbells, so I covered my ears as I ran. I wasn't totally grumpy or a raging bitch or anything. I was happy for the most part, and grateful that I didn't hurt. I remember thinking to myself sometimes I'm so lucky to be in this race. Ikaika, David, Toby, and Noah surprised me at mile 21, most of the way up Heartbreak Hill, and that motivated me to check my form, smile, wave, and be happy.

From miles 22-26.2, I just wanted to be done. I felt surprisingly good, and went from running 7+ to running 6:45 per mile again. I passed hundreds of people who'd run up the hills too hard. I started thinking about the finish, Ikaika there waiting, the burger at Four Seasons, and all that stuff. My quads were ruined from the hills, and every step killed. I dodged people the way you fly through cars on the highway changing lanes because I was in a hurry to just be done. Really, the race flew by in spite of the pain. Suddenly I was turning on to Boylston and the finish line was 1/4 mile away. I glanced at my watch and decided I didn't want to run another 3:04 at Boston, so I picked it up a bit. I crossed the line in 3:03 high. 

I wasn't happy about the time and I wasn't sad about the time. I got out what I put in. I think I shrugged and thought good enough. Had I focused, I might have done better, but my mind was all over the place. My fitness showed up last Monday, but my brain didn't. 

There were people 20-deep cheering on either side of the road all along Boylston. That last stretch is like no other race. Even Alii Drive in Kona. I smiled the whole way. Once you finish, you hit a traffic jam. I tried to climb over the fence to get out, but volunteers screamed at me that I had to keep walking down the line. So I ran along the curb outside of the crowd and hopped off of planters and dodged volunteers with icky food while we all were herded through the blankets and stuff. I just wanted Ikaika, my burger, my jacket, and a place to sit down.  Other runners were swaying and puking and a few said that I hadn't run hard enough if I could still jog. I didn't care, I just wanted out of there. I jogged along until I found a cop, then asked him for directions to the Four Seasons - our meeting place.

The Four Seasons is 3-4 blocks from the finish. I'd tell you something more specific, but really, I don't think my brain works for at least 6 hours after a marathon. Ikaika, David, and David's sons were right there in the street, waiting for me by the hotel. I wanted food, and a place to sit, now. They'd already gotten a table. I had a burger so big that I had to use a fork and knife to eat it. The boys had snickers bars. I texted my mom, and talked to my dad on the phone, and stretched and iced. Everything was perfect. We finished eating, went out front and waited for the valet to bring David's car around, and then the boys asked David what the boom they'd heard was. I didn't notice the sound, amidst all the noise of the crowds, until they pointed it out. The car came, we got in, and started heading out of the city towards David's house. I saw two women in race blankets running and crying and thought to myself, they must've had bad races. I saw people hailing cabs frantically and thought they must be cold. Then my phone started getting texts - over 70 texts in 20 minutes, all asking if we were ok. I didn't know what had happened, I just started replying Yes, we're fine, we're in a car heading out of the city now. The texts came so fast that I had to cut and paste my response. Finally, someone told me there were bombs going off at the finish line. I called my parents, my ex-husband Ramsey, and my kids' schools, to make sure no one would be worried about me when they heard the news. 

We watched the news all evening. I cried this weird grateful cry that I am not a person who can afford to fly my children to the finish line. I cried some guilty tears for being the reason that Ikaika, David, and his two sons were anywhere near that finish line because of me. I held onto Ikaika for dear life, because it was the spectators, the supporters, the race-lovers, that were killed and broken. Mostly, I feel like we were blessed.

We left town for NYC the following morning. I'll post the happy stuff - vacation, photos, and stories, sometime soon.