Boyfriend the beginner

Boyfriend and I first met in the fall of 2006.

It was a wednesday night, One week before my 21st birthday and I was meeting up with some friends of mine at a local Irish pub for what would prove to be one of the best traditions of my senior year of college. Quizzo. A local phenomenon of random trivial knowledge played in three rounds in bars with half price appetizers. what could be better? There were about eight of us at the table, two of my good friends and guy friends of theirs from their freshman dorm. Somehow it had taken three years of school for us to all finally meet, and among them, boyfriend to be.

I was already a runner at this point, let's make that clear. I had returned from California just over a month ago having gone through my first summer of any kind of real training. I had completed my first half marathon in Disneyland and was now back to finish school. Since then I had toyed with the idea of running my first full marathon but with the pressures of school in the way I would settle for one more half. California had turned me into more of a health nut than I had ever been, and so in the weeks to follow as we showed up repeatedly on wednesday nights for quizzo, and then on thursday nights for $2 pint specials I was always the most conscious one of all the cheesey fries and endless beers and (at least most of the time) was able to keep myself in check. This did not go unnoticed by the non-athletes of the group and i was always teased relentlessly but I stuck by it knowing what I did was something a little bit bigger than drinking on a weeknight in college.

I completed that second half marathon in November, right before thanksgiving and then went into what would become my usual winter hiatus from running drinking and partying binge. It was as if the pressures and sacrifices I made for my running were worth it up until the point that i crossed that finish line. But with out fail after ever race I swore I would never run again. I would realism all the things I give up that no one else does. Social time with friends, friday nights out late, drinking, sleeping in on saturdays, spontaneous weekend trips in the summer. All of that took a toll on my body, on my mind, and come december I was ready for a break.

Through it all, boyfriend to be always caught my attention, and I tried my best to put out the "I'm into you" vibe but knowing me, that vibe goes out to anyone within a five foot radius and some people are just more perceptive to it than others. Needless to say nothing ever became of our flirtation except that. I found myself going from one boy to the next, not really investing any emotion into anything, it was safer that way really. I was drained enough by school, and training that I didn't need anything else taking a toll on me anymore.

A few months down the road he met a girl who was as into cars as he was, and as disappointed as I was I let him go knowing he was probably happier that way. That spring he moved back home to New Jersey for his co-op job and that June I graduated college. we had both just gone our separate ways and most of the time I barely realized it. Of course there was always the fall back of myspace and facebook and from time to time I would find myself browsing through his profile wondering how things were going.

I find it ironic that it was at that very same bar, at one of the very same back tables that I started to fall for my coach, started to fall for running even harder than I had been. After college I began the hardest training I had ever gone through. I dated my coach, broke up with my coach, dated his roommate, broke up with his roommate, ran my third half marathon, ran my first ever full marathon, and once again went back into winter drinking and partying mode. Through it all, we had always had a mutual friend L. L was the reason I went to the bar that first night in october. L had been the reason we had met. and Ironically enough L would be the thing that brought us back together.

It was the summer of 2008 that I heard about BTB again. L and I were single girls that summer, and somedays it felt like we were the only two single girls on the planet. So of course we were practically attached at the hip, getting into trouble, looking for men, having crazy nights that led to crazy stories and loving every second of it. One day she mentions BTB. Things aren't going well with the supposed car loving girlfriend. I can't say I was upset over it. I mean yes on the one hand, when things go bad with someone's relationship it's never something to throw a party over. But would this mean he would be back on the market? I was always shopping around and loved hearing when new things were available.

Of course I was training again. This time for my second full marathon set for mid October. Part of me felt like the last race I ran had gotten over shadowed by boy drama and I was dead set on not letting that happen again. I made myself promise that, at least for this race, running was number one top priority and boys would have to wait until after everything. Of course I still had coach with me through the whole thing. Sometimes I toyed with the possibility that we would work out. It seemed so fitting at times, we both loved to run, he pushed me to the point that I was so proud of myself. He could be very cold, that was for certain. He lacked emotion, and was convinced it was for the better because he wanted to be a doctor and that would make him a better doctor. But if we would ever be in a relationship, he would make for one terrible boyfriend. I reminded myself that every day.

2008 was of course an Olympic year, a summer olympic year, and L being the in entertainer that she is decided to have an olympic party. I'm pretty sure it was the same day I had run 18 miles. No biggie for me I guess but it sure did impress everyone in attendance. I was at the peak of my fitness. I had never been in better shape. I had never felt so good about myself and what I was accomplishing. and of course that night BTB would be there, finally single. I would be lying if I said we weren't shamelessly flirting all night long, and I was planning on staying over L's for the night so I had a little bit of a buzz going and I desperately wanted to make some kind of move. But I wouldn't let myself. I was done being that girl who couldn't keep to herself enough to not leave a party with out hooking up with someone. I would stay strong and If he wanted it, I would let him pursue me. And he did.

Everything happened so fast between my training and our dating and the whole time I made sure to stay strong and never loose my focus of running. My ultimate goal.

BTB was there through those last final weeks of my training as I suffered through sore legs, hunger pains, early mornings, and everything else that went along with training. He made the five hour drive home with me to Massachusetts to watch me run my race. He put up with my whole family for three days, because he knew how much it meant to me to have him there at that race. And when it was all over he watched me cry to myself in a bathtub full of ice. He pulled me out and wrapped me in a towel, he brought me water and Advil and held me while the pain of 26.2 miles took over my entire body.

He will never fully understand the hurdles I overcame to get to that point. The mental and physical strain I put on myself for no other reason than it just makes me happy to push myself. He will never understand like coach did. But I would trade the understanding for the love he shows me every single day. I can put up with the fact that he doesn't fully get it because he's learning to support it.

The day after that race he became boyfriend for definite.

I decided that I would take a break from marathons, at least full ones. In part because of all the injuries I suffered in my last year of training. In part because I wanted to enjoy more recreational things with Boyfriend.

We spend the winter snowboarding and I enjoyed being able to share something with him that we both loved to do. I loved watching him get better, and his confidence grow. When the weather started getting warmer we started walking around my house. I would sometimes get up early and do a long run and then we would walk more after. I never regretted giving up marathoning. Because I know I will never fully give them up.

Recently I decided to do once race this year. A half marathon, keep it a little easy, and in the mean time maybe Boyfriend and I would start jogging. Who knows, maybe one day he'll even be able to coach me from the perch of his bike as he rides along next to me. Cheering me on, motivating me to keep going.

Boyfriend may be a beginner runner. He may just be a walker.

But I wouldn't trade him for a million dollars, a million races, or even a Boston qualifier. Because with out him there to share it with, the race really doesn't mean anything anymore.

<3

xx Sara

Why are you running?

"Why are you running?" is spray painted in stringy black letters on the 8.5 mile loop that I often run my speed work on. And every time I run over it I think, "Why AREN'T you running??"

Here are some other "why's" that drive me absolutely up a wall.

"Why are you going to sleep at ten pm on a friday?" Have you ever tried to run fourteen miles on four hours of sleep? Better yet have you ever tried to run fourteen miles? Yea I didn't think so. If you've never done it, don't question what I do

"Why can't you drink? my friend Tina/Joe/Sara/etc. runs marathons and drinks all the time" Well yay for Tina Joe Sara and the rest of the alcoholic runners. they are a lucky bunch who's stomachs and bodies do not require adequate nutrition for optimum performance. But as for the rest of us, why do something we're only going to use as an excuse for poor performance later on? I didn't run well becuase i went out drinking the night before. alright well don't drink and you'll run better. Thats why I don't drink. I'm sorry you have nothing better to do with your life than waste money on nights you will never remember.

"Why don't you have an extra piece of cake, you're only going to run it off later?" Ok well this one is legit, at least in times of heavy training. and so yes I will have that extra piece of cake, and that extra burger, and that extra sandwich. And while you complain about how I can eat whatever I want and not gain any weight I will laugh at you on the inside because you have NO IDEA how hard I work to get to this point. You have no F***ING clue how much work it is.

If you think it hurts bad now, just wait a few days.

Alright so here I am, one month away from my second marathon ever. The past two weeks have been nothing short of torture, I have come to love ice baths, and laying motionless on my hardwood floor for hours on end just becuase its not standing up. One week ago I completed a twenty mile long run, and I fear that everything has been rolling downhill since I failed to recover properly.

Here's what it was like to get up to the big 2-0. First of all I was on vacation so i had to improvise my route. I was excited that i had not let vacation break me out of my routine. I was gonig to stick to something so difficult, something that no one (except my mother) understands. I had to skip wine with dinner, skip staying up late at night to play cards with my cousins, at least i did not have to skip eating! I was in bed by ten thirty and then awake again to get in one last late night snack. To say i was not nervous I would be lying however I did what I always did and convinced myself I was going to be fine. A twenty mile run would take me no more than three and a half hours and after that I would be on vacation for the rest of the weekend.
I broke down the twenty miles into three intervals of a six mile out and back, and one two mile out and back to finish the job. My twelve year old sister was going to do one six mile out and back with me, both to give her some company, and to get some miles under her belt. She was a future marathoner and she didn't even know it. She ended up doing eight miles that day with me, a middle six and the final two, but if you asked her how many miles she ran she would refuse to say she ran eight. "It doesn't count if you stop in the middle" she said.

Promptly at six am the next morning I rolled out of bed, grabbed my running gear that was piled in a corner and headed downstairs, waking Chelsea on my way so she could eat something and then go back to sleep. We ate Luna bars, something I am quickly becoming disgusted with, Gatorade, and she went back upstairs. I popped in my ear buds and began playing some upbeat music to get me going. the day was grey and cloudy and they were calling for rain. When I was all stretched out, I headed out the door for my first lap.

I was unfamiliar with the course I had picked, only having driven it the night before on my way in but found it to be somewhat decent. Going out it felt flat, a few uphills, and then it started to pour. I mean, poured so hard i had to ring out my shorts every so often to keep from weighing me down. And then I turned around and realized the seemingly flat course i had mapped was in fact a slight downward grade the entire out, and thus mostly uphill the way back. But I made the first six miles in under an hour. Not really a great feat if i was only doing six miles. At this point in the game i wasn't about to complain. I jogged a few circles around the cul-de-sac and waited for my sister to come trotting down the driveway with Gatorade and shot blocks.
I asked her who was awake in the house yet, knowing the answer would be grams and thats it. Everyone else would still be sleeping. We ran up a few hills, past some roadkill that has both of us refusing to look at the ground and holding our noses, past a tiny road side stand selling (overpriced) maple syrup and sunflowers. Chelsea laughed when i asked her if she would like some syrup. I said maybe on the way back? Luckily we made the whole six miles with out a drop of rain, the way back was tough on her, and tough on me, my second time up those hills but we kept pushing and when i dropped her off back at the driveway i had convinced her to come back in an hour and join me for my last two miles. I would really need it.
I know that if she wasn't there I still would have run the miles.
My last six was the longest of the three. My legs were lacking serious energy. I made it in just over an hour. I hated myself for running slow. how was I going to keep this up in a race if i couldn't do it in practice? My willingness to slack off killed me. And then my stomach attacked.
Finishing up mile 18 i seriously contemplated dashing in the house to use the bathroom before finishing out twenty but i somehow convinced myself that with only two miles to go I would be a wuss if I stopped for anything at all. When I met Chelsea for the second time at the end of the driveway I asked her how she was feeling, we had never run more than six miles and she was about to do two more so i wanted to make sure she was ok. she said she was feeling good, how was I feeling. Not so good I said with a groan, not good at all.
The last two miles started off painfully slow. and I mean painfully slow. but some how I made it through every last step, taking a final push towards the end, charging down the street and finished doubled over, every muscle in my body aching.
"Chelsea," I said, as we walked down the driveway gulping what Gatorade was left in the bottle, "I want you to remember this when you run your first marathon. Because that was probably the hardest thing I have ever done, but you know what, it's worth every second of it"

It's going to get worse before it gets better

One month. Eighteen days.
The race of my life. I can't help but get excited this time. Last year I was terrified. I knew how hard it was going to be, and I was unsure of myself. 26 miles? .2? could I do it? Could i even finish the distance never mind race in a decent time? Could I do it by myself?
Self doubt is such a dangerous thing. you can't let in even one little negative thought. becuase one turns into two, two turns into ten, and when you don't believe in yourself who can? If my body has become stronger this year it is only becuase my mind has been determined every single step of the way.

I'll never tell

I'll admit it, my gut reaction when someone starts to complain about pain of any kind is to tell them to suck it up and deal. I am not really a mean person though, i just wish people would learn to suck it up and deal. Why? because I am a running, I suck it up and deal every single day.
Saturday morning I get up for a routine twelve miler. My inner thighs are on fire, my right eye is swollen half shut and I am tearing up before even leaving the house. And yet I leave the house. I push through the heat, through the fatigue, up the hills and under the sun, I push through until the whole thing is over. I mean it's not like I have the choice to stop, dust myself off and have a cup of tea along the way. I knew this wasn't going to be any kind of picnic. And the only other people who will ever understand are the ones who have been there themselves.
To all the people who are just climbing on a treadmill for the first or fourth time in your life, you do not have shin splints, to all the newfound runners who have microscopic blisters on their toes you have no idea what you are in for.
As difficult as it has been, I have learned the best skill of all for training. Keep your mouth shut, becuase these people will never understand what you put yourself through. They don't want to understand, not even close. And its all relative, the pain they are experiencing may be the worst pain that exists in their life. You have no idea what battles other people are fighting. I asked for this kind of pain. I brought it on myself, and I will take it with a smile on my face (most of the time)

Balls to the wall my friend, balls to the wall

As I shut down my computer and picked up my bags to go home for the day, my co-workers asked me what I was doing that evening.

"Meeting my coach for a hard run" I answered with a little bit of excitement in my voice "Whenever i feel like working really hard I tell him to make up a hard workout for me, and keep it a surprise until we start, so I never know what we'll be doing."

"Why would you do that?" Another co-worker asked

"I just like it that way" I said plainly, Knowing that they would never understand any explination I could give them. I liked that larry pushed me harder than anyone could, even myself. I loved the pain, and there was no way you could put that to words, you just had to experience it for yourself.

On the way back into the city I wound my car through the curves of West River Drive in an effort to avoid rush hour traffic. There were several runners coasting along the path next to the river and I watched them, in awe of their speed and strength. How did they do it? I wondered what their secret was, how did they move along so fast yet so fluidly. I watched, when I should have been concentrating on the road. And I thought about it the entire way to Larry's. They just moved their feet faster.

I parked my car on campus, a place that had always felt so familiar yet grew more alien with every visit. I realized this was the last time I would bound up these steps and reach my finger out for the bell to apartment B1. I could play a mental movie montage to the hundreds of times I had climbed up thoes front steps. All the way back to last May, when Larry and I had first embarked on the journey that was training me to be a runner. To all the times we had returned from runs with me gasping for breath, convinced it was yet another mediocre effort and larry trying to convince me to be easier on myself and I would walk back and forth up the block clutching my sides and spitting every which way reminiscent of a homeless person right down to the lack of clothing.

"L or F" Larry asked as we came down the stairs. My braid went to work immediately trying to decode what he had just said. F meant fartlek, which happened to be my least favorite of all workouts ever. I hated it more than hills. More than 800's (which I actually loved). But what about L? Sensing the wheels turning and noticing a pause in conversation larry stepped in with " you should know by now what F is"

" I do, I do, but what is L?" I questioned

"Ladder" And then he went into the the detailed explanation of 1600, 1200, 800, 400 and then back down with a 400 recovery between each at about eight mile pace.

"Eight mile pace lar? I don't know if I can still do that." I was questioning my capabilities, I know I shouldn't do that before a hard workout, you should always attack it with confidence but I hadn't done any true speed work in so long and I was just starting to heal after my hip decided to rebel against my body in late june. I was feeling good but I wasn't feeling one hundred percent, never mind eight mile pace.

"So I'll adjust after the first mile if things aren't going well but lets just see how that first mile goes."

"Alright let's go then"

And with that we started out at a warm up pace out over the spring garden bridge as Larry recounted to be meeting his cadaver and cadaver team. Oh the inside story on going to med school, I have to admit the whole ordeal sounded pretty exciting. And knowing how hard he had worked to get there I couldn't help but be ridiculously excited for him.

"Eight miles right?" I asked as i dodged sandbags and construction signs that cluttered the sidewalk along our route to the river.

"I thought we were doing seven"

"Eight, why do I open up my big mouth"

More med school chatter.

Before I know it we are approaching 7 1/2 miles. I am not ready. I am never ready. But it is only a mile so I just think of it as a mile and then rest. Balls to the wall I say inside my head, just gun it and go, don't think, it's all worth the pain, just push, I rattle off every motivational saying I can conjour up. 7 1/2 comes and I start the push. I up the pace until I feel like I have reached a place I can stay for a mile and no longer. I am aiming for 2 minute quarters but when I cross through that first quarter and larry yells out my split the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, 'too fast' 1:49 or something in that rhelm. I keep going, even though larry says I could slow up my pace and still make it in under 8 I keep going. I am afraid to slack too much and come out in over 8. We hit the half mile and I am still under four minutes. I don't recall my exact split but knowing that I am still under four I just keep on going. My feet move fast beneath me as if I were literally running for my life. I know this course like the back of my hand, I know where the mile will end and I just keep pushing knowing that the faster I push the faster I get a break. I force myself to stay calm in my head and not let my emotions get the best of me. Faster feet, faster feet, and then suddenly I recall the man I saw running on the river just a few minutes earlier. I had finally figured it out, fast feet. I blew through the 3/4 mark and again when larry called out my time I don't remember the exact numbers, just that I was still under 6 minutes, still under an 8 minute mile. The last quarter was a blurr, I just pushed until the end and when we crossed the 6 1/2 mile line all I could think of was I was going to throw up. It was very difficult for me to pull myself into a slow job from an all out run. I waved my hand in the motion that larry had come to figure out meant 'what's my time?'

"7:15"

"Mother fucker" I let out, half in rage, half in shock. After larry had finally coaxed me to slow down enough, he finally asked

"By the way, where did that come from? You just pr'd in the mile!"

"I'll tell you where" I answered, "Last week I ran 34 miles in five days, with no rest. Saturday I gave myself a break. granted it was moving things into a truck, but that's a break to me. Sunday I did my long run and it was great, but then I took another two days of rest and then I just kind of took off."

I was nervous now. I had just opened up with my fastest mile time ever. EVER. I now had ahead of me a 1200, 800, 400, and then back up the ladder ending with a mile. I knew I would have no problem going down. Every interval would be shorter than the rest and I would attack it with just as much strength as the one before. I would never fall beneath a 2 minute quarter even though that was the goal of the workout. I just wouldn't let myself fall beneath what I knew I was capable. And I could tell larry was quite proud.

"this is how you get to boston" he said to me during our next 400 recovery. "Not this year, but that's how you get there"

I was not disappointed that I was not ready for Boston, there was no time limit no deadline, (ok Boston before twenty five was a deadline but still)

"I know, next year though, next year" I trotted on, not ready for the next quarter mile mark to appear on the sidewalk at my feet. Maybe if i trotted slow enough it would get up and move an extra few feet in the opposite direction. I was already dead tired, I had given so much to the last two intervals and while I knew I could finish the first half I was not so sure about the second. I tried to talk myself out of it for a while but then I realized there was no way around it, it just had to be done, I just had to push through.
I made it all the way back to the last mile and I was still alive and in once piece. One mile, i kept telling myself. One mile is nothing, one mile is a piece of cake. Before I had even hit the quarter mile marker I felt a tight pull in my left hip. The one that had nagged me for months, forced me to sit out almost the entire month of july from running. I let out an involuntary "ow" but kept pushing. the pain was instant but not lasting.
"There is no benefit to running injured, if you're not ok we can stop. you've already gotten everything out of this workout that you were supposed to, this is just the final push"
I didn't even bother to answer larry with words, instead I just pushed on, there was no need to say anything it would only waste air that my body desperately needed.
We hit the half mile and I knew I could finish this thing. I forced my feet to move quicker, fast feet, fast feet. My thighs ached, my stomach tightened, my breathing was erratic, and yet i forced my mind to focus and remain calm. Quarter mile mark and though I was pushing as hard as i could I doubted I could go any faster. Larry upped the pace and pulled ahead of me, knowing that I would want to catch up. I struggled to find my next gear but when I did it was like gliding forward. Fast feet. Fast feet. I remember Larry's words of encouragement, but cannot recall exactly what they were, only that they were there. I just remember pushing, and then being done. Larry called out my time, 7:45. Under eight. As we jogged back to the apartment we talked about Larry's new apartment and what was to become of our training sessions when he was no longer on the campus we were both so used to.
There was no question that we would not continue running together. I began to realize that over our lifetimes so much would change between the two of us, but if I had it my way, we would always be runners together. We would always share this bond that no one else I knew would ever understand. That the thing we both loved more than anything required so much sacrifice for progress. It required long hard hours, high pain threshold, the ability to keep going when everything seemed like it was falling apart.
We would always have running.

Twenty six point two what now?

Miles.
26.2 Miles. That's a Marathon. Every marathon. It doesn't ever change.

Everyone knows that a football game is played in four 15 min quarters (although let's be serious football time lasts FOREVER). Two halves, with a halftime show.
That a football field is 50 yards long, marked off every five yards
That a touchdown is 6 points that

Everyone knows that baseball has nine innings
Four balls is a walk
Three strikes and you're out
Three outs and your half of the inning is over
Seven vs seven

Everyone seems to know that hockey has three periods,
Five players on the ice (six including the goalie)

Everyone can pretty much figure out that basketball is five on five
Two points for a basket inside the 3 point arc
Three points from on or outside the arc (captain obvious with that one)
One point a foul shot
Dribble the ball while your running or its a travel

So now given that the general population can recall most if not all and sometimes MORE information than this. Why is it that so many people not understand that marathon does not mean race, and that it is a predetermined distance. No it is not ten miles. or twenty, or twenty two. It's twenty six point two. always. every day. on Tuesdays, on holidays, in other countries, in other time zones. No matter who runs it. Its always going to be 26.3 miles.
Yes granted once upon a time it was a nice simple 26 miles. None of this .2 crap, this 385 yards of pure torture when all you want to do is stop moving forward and yet when you reach that finish line you have been pushing your body forward so hard and so long that at first it doesn't even know how to stop. We have the wonderful royal family during the Olympics of 1908 to thank for that extra addition. Thanks royal family, for being too lazy to leave your balcony that you wanted to add some length on to our race so you could see the end. Oh no its no trouble at all, we'll just keep going, you comfortable up there? would you like some more pillows?