Setbacks and baby steps.

I never thought I would find myself in this position. Trying to juggle work, personal life, and running all at once. Not wanting any of the three to be anything less than perfect. Jealous of friends of mine who were jumping on the half marathon bandwagon. How could I be jealous after all I had accomplished in the past three years? Mad that I hadn't finished my last race due in insufficient training. I just have to remember it doesn't matter what other people are doing or how far or fast they can run. What matters is where I am and that I am working towards achieving my goals.

I am doing more now that I did three months ago - I workout three days a week after work! That is HUGE since getting new job responsibilities over a year ago. What's funny is how you always miss what you don't have. When I am running and training I feel amazing. I feel strong and happy like I can conquor anything that comes at me. But I miss nights going out to happy hour with friends or careless weekend plans and not worrying about fitting in a long run.

And yet when I give up running, or cut back on my workouts I miss being fast and strong. I miss feeling great about my body. So really it's just a matter of balance. I am glad that I took some time off to figure myself out. Learn how to love my job, learn how to be in a relationship. But now I feel like I have those things under control and I want to go back to tackling the challenge of the half marathon. My goal was two in one year but who knows. Maybe if I stay in shape all winter I'll be able to tackle three in a year.

Any time I find myself getting jealous of other people I remind myself how happy I am with ALL the aspects of my life. Running does not equal my whole life - even though it may seem like it sometimes! There isn't a single thing I would give up if I had to trade something for being faster or more in shape. And remembering that is what makes it all ok.

xxSara

A breath of fresh air

Imagine yourself on a cool spring evening, running on your favorite tree lined route. It's about an eight mile day, and it's a day for 800's. The sun is setting as you launch into the last repeat, determined that it be the fastest not only of the night, ever. Your feet seem to move so fast they aren't even touching the ground. You feel like you are effortlessly gliding towards the end. Effortless - except for the fact that every muscle in your body hurts, your arms and legs pumping back and forth as if they might spontaneously fly off your body, and you are gasping for breath desperate to have enough air in your lungs. Now remember that feeling, the breathing part, as you finish the repeat and slow down to a jog. It is only a few moments before your breathing returns to normal. As you jog your cool down you take in nice full breaths and relish in the feeling of accomplishment. That's how running is supposed to feel, challenging at times but when it's all said and done you should walk away feeling amazing!

Now imagine yourself laying down - and someone is sitting on your chest. It is very difficult to get in a full breath and you feel like you spend so much energy just - breathing. Imagine this person sitting on your chest goes everywhere you go! Sometimes they wander away and can be lost for days but alas they always come back. That was my life and running for the past year.

I was running my second marathon the first time I remember it happening. It was a gorgeous October morning, the weather was unseasonably warm and I was having a great time running the back roads of suburban Hartford Conn. I was running just behind the 9:30 pace group and feeling surprisingly good most of the way despite having been struck with a nasty cold three weeks prior. And then right around the half way mark I started feeling like i was gasping for breath more than normal for my pace. I felt my body begging me to slow down, and maybe if I slowed down It would be able to breath. But I was pretty determined that this was going to be the race I would finish in 4 hours. So I pushed on for about another two miles, until I met up with Larry and I told him how terrible I was feeling. He let me slow down but looking back on it I don't know if that was a good or bad decision. In the end, at least I finished the race that day. I wasn't thrilled with a 4:45 finish time, even if it was 10 minutes of my PR. I had worked too hard for this race.

I would struggle with this fact on and off for the next year. I would see a handful of different doctors, I would be told I had asthma, I would be told I had anxiety, and I would pass all the breathing tests with flying colors leaving everyone including myself baffled as to what was wrong with me.

I hadn't given up running but I had definitely put marathons and long distances on the back burner. I was in a relationship now and spending time as a couple came to my mind more often than early Saturday morning runs. I began to feel as though I was loosing a part of myself and I used my breathing as an excuse. Sometime in the summer I decided I wasn't going to let myself get lazy for any longer. I had once been such a strong and fast person and I wanted that back. I gradually started doing four and sometimes six mile long runs. These felt pretty good most of the time but they were never very fast. 10mm at best.

One day, out of pretty much nowhere it had occurred to me that my old college roommate - whom I had run a few races with, the Broad Street 10 miler our senior year in college for one, and her first half marathon (my second) had been running a lot and increasing her mileage. Now that she had more experience under her belt, and I had let myself go a bit, we were probably very close in speed and ability. I texted her to ask if she would like to join me for a long run one weekend morning. As it turns out she was training for a fall half marathon and had just begun to work up her distance. It couldn't be more perfect. We ran seven miles that Sunday. It was hot and miserable but when it was over I felt amazing. I had the feeling back!

With that began a weekly long run ritual with us until well after her half. She had inspired me to sign up for the Philadelphia half, a race I was more than familiar with, and in turn I inspired her to sign up for the Philadelphia full. Our runs were a great change to catch up with each other, talk about our relationships, jobs, etc. and at the same time we logged more and more miles until we were into the double digits. I enjoyed it so much that I failed to notice how out of breath I seemed to get by the end of every run. We would start off at a pretty steady easy pace for both of us, feeling great and talking, but after nine or ten miles I constantly needed to slow down and catch my breath. After one particular run, which I needed to full on stop and walk the remaining two miles, I started to feel like things weren't ok.

Early in November, just weeks before the Philly Half, I was to take a last minute business trip out of the country. At first I was going to be tough and pack my sneakers, aiming to get in at least three days of running. But at the last minute they didn't fit in my suitcase and we ended up working such long hours, put that together with the near ten hour time difference and I was in no condition to run. The night I arrived back in the states I slept for nearly 13 hours figuring resting was better than dragging my body into the ground with a six mile run after 18 hours on two different planes.

The weekend of the race I was super pumped although very nervous. I reminded myself constantly that I was only doing this for the finish, and not to get upset when my time was slower than normal. I went with Heather (who by this time had gotten too busy to train for a full and had decided to stick with the half) to the Expo to pick up our numbers. A large group of us went out to dinner for pasta. And that night I laid out all my gear. Shorts, shoes, socks, top, warm ups, extra layers, gloves, my number, lucky hair bow. It all seemed so surreal. I usually took races so seriously and with such anxiety, the fact that I had not really prepared for this race and I was running it anyways was like I was breaking a rule. So how'd I end up doing? Let's just say it was not a success - and you can read about it in my separate post about the race.

So now I felt like my world was falling apart. I was ready to give up running all together, but just before that happened I was scheduled for one last lung test. Basically they would give me a chemical that in asthmatics, would cause an acute bought of symptoms measurable by lots of science stuff and computers. I had no idea what to expect when I walked in that morning. I knew I was not happy that I wasn't allowed to have coffee until this darn test was over. Unfortunaly it was not a quick one. There was lots of breathing through different tubes. Tubes that measured my breathing and tubes that administered the chemicals. Yum. What I hated more than the tests was the small talk. I was confined to a chair with the same lady who shared TMI about her life for an hour. And then on the fourth dose I hit the twentieth percentile. That means they stop testing me because I dropped too low. It's like failing out! It felt weird, like maybe I wasn't trying hard enough or something, maybe I had made myself fail. So she gave me one more shot. And I still failed.

So that was it. I had asthma. That meant nothing to me considering I spend months taking an inhaler, and taking preventative medications twice a day every day. What could they possibly do for me now?

I had to meet with Pulmonary to figure it all out. Ironically while I was sitting there I noticed the latest runners world laying on a table and began flipping through it. And when the doctor finally arrived and announced "well you have exercise induced asthma" I wanted to ask him what desperate measures he though I should try to get this fixed. To my great shock, he prescribed me almost the exact medicines I had been taken off of only ten months earlier. Ok crazy, so you think that just because I failed a test the meds are going to work now? And then he told me he wanted me to try taking the inhaler as a preventative measure. Take two puffs 1 minutes BEFORE running, because if I waited until I actually felt symptoms I was much less likely to feel relief. Well ok mister Doctor, I think maybe you are on to something.

The next time I entered the gym (because it's freezing in Philadelphia and I am too much of a wuss to run outside) I did as he said. I took two puffs of the inhaler - and did my workout. I felt the usual out of breath during faster intervals but the amazing difference came afterwards. Before, when I would do my runs, I felt as if it took days afterwards to catch my breath. I would spend the rest of the night or day feeling the same pangs of someone sitting on my chest refusing to move.

But now? now I felt like normal. I felt like a person. If it weren't for this freezing weather I would be jumping at the chance to try a run longer than four miles outside. But for now I will stick to my twice weekly four mile runs. This week will be my first week running three days a week. And in four months, a half marathon!

Todays workout - 4 miles on treadmill. 1 mi warmup, then 4x800 repeats starting at 9mm pace and finishing at 8:30 pace. I remind myself that the pace is all relative. It's something to gauge my progress but It's 'treadmill' time and doesn't accuratly translate to my times had I been running outside.

Last night on the phone with my mother I shared with her how in shape I feel. And although I have been in much better shape at previous points in my life, this is the first winter since I started taking running seriously that I feel like I'm not letting myself go as the days slip by. Just waiting for the first night after work where there is enough daylight for a super fast four mile run. At a time when many people are trying to erase the damage done over the holidays, I feel like I am at a constant and only growing stronger.

In part I owe it to my love of a good routine. I eat the same things every day around the same time. I plan my workouts for the same days every week. I have a practically ritualistic schedule before a long run in order for it to be successful. To some people I may be crazy, or OCD, but hey if what I do works what's the harm?

A typical diet in the day of me =

- 7:30am - Starbucks venti travel tumbler filled with either water, juice, or 1/2 water 1/2 juice on my way to work (BO-RING commute!)

- 8:30 am - some type of bread product (bagel, toast, waffles, English muffin, ect.) toasted with one of the following (peanut butter, cream cheese, egg and cheese, omelet, or margerine) One cup of coffee with one tablespoon sugar (yes I measure it) and water

- 10am - NEED some sort of mid morning snack. Usually a Banana and a fat free yogurt. Sometimes I go through an almond phase but right now I am in a 'definatly don't want almond' phase.

- 11:30 (gym day) /12:30 (non gym day) - LUNCH!! Yay! Best time of day b/c my whole lunch box comes up to my desk and I pretty much eat for the rest of the day. What is in my lunch box you ask? Well I will tell you. My main lunch can be anything from last night's dinner leftovers, to a tuna sandwich, o maybe all the ingredients for a tossed salad. But mostly it's leftovers from dinner because it is super easy to make extra dinner and it means I will have a well balanced and filling lunch. Then I usually have some kind of fruit, apples usually, something with carbs like crackers or a granola bar, and then maybe a dessert like two fun sized candy bars or a few cookies. Sometimes I throw in extra fruit like grapes, and an extra veggie like a bag or baby carrots.

- 3pm - (gym day) stop eating. I know it's strange, and try explaining it to everyone in the office when you get together for the 3pm birthday cake, or the 3pm baby shower etc. But I do it because back when I was doing crazy training workouts with Larry I would run super hard and all that super hard running works your core to such an intensity I would feel nauseous sometimes. The emptier my stomach, the easier it was to run the fast intervals, the hills, and the long distances. I guess it just stuck with me. no eating after 3pm on a gym day. Just water.

- 5pm - GYM! Sometimes I will wait until 5:30 or 6 usually because I have work to finish up, but it I wait anylonger I start to get hungry and loose my engery and motivation.

Just another way my routine keeps me in check. the minute I start to deviate from it, I loose motivation. It's almost as if my routine is my autopilot, no thinking required. No thinking, no problem. That is why I love intervals so much, repetitive motions, make things seem easier because after you do it a few times your body gets used to it. When I start to stray from routine my body snaps out of autopilot and into shock. What? what are you doing to me? going to the gym at 7pm - NOPE! no way jose! I want to go home and drink a glass of wine and sit on the couch!

Apparently I don't have the strength to run my body on manual.

Alternative Medicine

It is possible that I love working out more than anything. And while I write mostly about running and it is the core of all my training and fitness goals, I really just love being in the gym and working out. But more than that, more than the accomplishment of achieving my own goals I love training people and helping them meet their goals.

OF course this means I have to tweak my plans, I have to research, and be open minded. I have to treat each person different, find what motivates them, what their goals are, what they want the end result to be. Most people find my method of training incredibly boring. And I'll admit it is very boring, running on a treadmill mile after mile, day after day, week after week. Adding more endless miles in what feels like a vacuum. I spend hours just staring at my reflection make the same repetitive motion. I compose a new playlist almost weekly to keep me interested never knowing what song will come next is sometimes the highlight of a workout. But I digress.

So when my bosses boss asked me to help her out at our work gym a few nights a week I was beyond excited. All I ask of people is that they show up willing to do whatever it takes. I see this as an easy request but I forget how hard it is to adopt the mental toughness required to stick with something even when it is hard. I look to this as an experiment, and I mean that in the best way possible. Of all the people I have helped, very few have seen results, or have been able to take my teachings and adopt them into a consistent lifestyle change. One thing I strongly believe is that a good trainer doesn't need to train forever. A good trainer should be able to give someone enough skills to workout on their own and through positive results.

After a bit of hassling we had finally cemented a day. Monday. The week before I would plan out workouts while doing my runs. This proved to be a great way to pass the time but it was nothing more than the general idea of how I would break things down. The weekend before I had wanted to plan out a routine but of course by the time Sunday night rolls around there are never enough hours to sit down and to the kind of research I always wanted to do. When I get to work Monday I am getting more nervous. My one downfall is my failure to quickly learn choreography. And because of that, I lack the skills to also plan choreography. So when I have to actually lead someone through a workout I get nervous that I can't remember everything! Oh crazy me. luckily super-boss didn't have a ton of time so we had about 15 minutes to do some full body cardio with 3lb hand weights. I thought up enough moves that weren't too hard, or boring. When that was done we did 10 minutes of solid abs.

The best part, was whatever I said, she did. I loved it. And the whole workout was over in half hour.

As soon as we were done, I hopped on the treadmill and began my four mile run.

Today, my whole body hurts more than it has in weeks. Doing a workout other than running felt great, energizing and motivating. And I love it. I am already brainstorming ideas for Friday's workout with the super-boss!

Welcome to Monday. But not just any Monday. The first Monday of the new year, 2010 to be exact (like anyone could forget what year it is). Today at exactly 5pm I will be gathering up my belongings, shutting down my computer and heading to the gym. Today a lot of people will be doing the exact same thing, but for many it will be the first time in months or even years they have set foot in my favorite place. New years resolution gym go-ers are bound to be out in full force. And personally although I am happy for people who want to make the effort to get in shape, I would have been a lot happier to hang out with them last month during the Christmas crunch as well.

Today is unofficial start a diet day with women all over America. So as I pack my lunch of baby carrots and cheery tomatoes, yogurt, a banana, whole grain bagel and cream cheese, an apple and sugar free ice tea, I am sure that if today you walked into my office for the first time you would mistake me for one of those people. Call me crazy but after two days of take out food I was just about ready to go on a fruit juice fast or eat nothing but carrots for two days until I felt myself getting back into shape.

Today - unlike much of America unfortunately - I am getting back into my normal routine. I cannot wait. I am happy to be, for once, in shape through the holidays and through the winter. A month ago i could barely do ten sit ups with out feeling a burn through my body. Just the other day I did at least thirty with out feeling anything (until the next morning!) It was moments like that when I really start to feel how much i have let myself go.

Happy new years resolutions and Happy getting fit!

Winter Wonderland.

Now I love running. I love it so much that most of my friends and family think I'm crazy. But there is something about running in the months November through March that just send a chill up my spine. Perhaps it's the fact that the only daylight I come into contact with is through my office window. It could have a little bit to do with the snow, ice, and bitter cold wind. Sometimes I know it's because it means workouts on the treadmill. But whatever it may be, I know that more often than not I would rather be Christmas shopping, drinking hot chocolate, or engaging in my other favorite winter sports of ice skating and snowboarding.

Except for this year.

This year some crazy part of me decided to sign up for a spring half marathon. Really Sara, you want to do long runs in the freezing cold? You want to spend an hour on the treadmill two or three times a week?

Alright well lets review the logic behind this otherwise insane sounding plan.

Every year I do a fall race. I give up everything to train, get into the best shape of my life, inevitably get sick two weeks before the race, and when it comes to race day I am not feeling ready. When the race is over I dive right into the holidays and don't think about running again until Easter!

Well this year went even worse than all the years before. Work took over my life. I didn't make weekday workouts a priority. The Philadelphia Half Marathon was a big fail. FTL. And when you fail once race the only thing to do is to sign up for a new one. This year I made a promise to myself to get back into racing shape, to keep running through the winter, to not let myself get slow.

I moved all my running inspiration to the front wall of my cube so I could look at it every second of the day. I printed a fresh workout calendar and pinned it up as close to my face as I could get and I started planning out workouts for the month of December.

Week one of winter training : Ran 2.5 miles Tuesday night on the treadmill. Planned to run 3 on Thursday but got caught up with work. Planned to run 6 on Saturday but got de-railed by the first snow of the season. Happily enjoyed Christmas shopping, decorating, and singing. Moved 6 miler to Sunday, got up early and had toast and cream cheese for breakfast, got dressed and was looking for my sneakers when I realized, they were at work! foiled again. I cut my losses and just went food shopping instead. Mother nature and fate did not want me to run this weekend so fine. I would not run!

Week Two: Setting out to be WAY better than week one. Monday Ran Four miles - 4 x 1/2 mile repeats @ approx 10 mm. Wednesday Ran three miles 4 x 1/4 repeats at up to 7mm. Whoa! So now once again Saturday is going to be the best weather day for running outside. I MISS running outside. I miss looking at things other than myself in the mirror.

I packed up all my running gear b/c i'll be staying at the BF's house and running along Main Street to Kelly Drive in the AM. Long pants - check. Long sleeve Nike jacket with hood - check. Gloves, headband - check.

Motivation - well i'm working on that one....

xx Sara

Race report - Philadelphia Half Marathon

There isn't much in my life that I have given up on. I am a win or die trying type of girl. As much as I felt like I was going to die during the second half of the Hartford Marathon, I kept on going. I trodded along and after four hours and forty five odd minutes I crossed the finish line.

Sunday morning I woke up at 5:30 AM. I tiptoed out of the bedroom, already in my running shorts ( a race day tradition). Everything I could possibly need was packed into my race bag, and layed out on the table. I quickly got dressed, splashed water on my face and woke up the BF so he could quickly get ready. There is something magical about getting up before the sun. You act like it is mid morning, you go about your almost normal routine but there is something about being awake when no one else is that makes you feel just a little bit mischievous. I dressed in all my layers, including my ratty but lucky white sweatpants that I had made my sophomore year in college. BF and I made a quick stop at dunkin donuts so he could get some breakfast and coffee. I didn't feel so bad leaving him out in the cold knowing he had coffee in his system.

By the time we picked up H and D the car was toasty warm and there were some good tunes going on the radio. I was pretty excited. Even though I hadn't run a foot in almost two weeks. My last run had been an easy 8 miler on Saturday morning before boarding a plane to Sri Lanka. Ok that's not true. My last run had been just this Monday - I ran a mile on the treadmill.

We get to the city, and park a few blocks away from my first apartment. Check to make sure we have everything out of the car, and that we left anything not needed. We stopped at an apartment to pick up some friends of D's and then we made our way over the spring garden bridge to the start line. We weren't leaving much time to dally around, which was fine by me because the more I sit around the more nervous I get. I was wearing my favorite race day outfit. Black Nike shorts with the pink trim, green long sleeve tech tee, blue gloves, and of course my lucky pink bow. We shuffled our way into the corals and found a good spot not too far back and not to close up. I took off my layers, put them in my race bag and handed them off to BF, who is my official race photographer. Love him.

While we waited I tried to get us pumped up by telling H how ready for this race she was. I knew shew as really hoping to PR, especially because she had originally planned to run the full marathon and had to bring herself down to the half due to over scheduling. I wanted her to do so well, possibly because I knew I couldn't. This wasn't my race, it never was. It was always meant to be a race I would run to close out the year. something to do so I wouldn't feel like a complete failure. Funny, it kind of had the opposite effect. The hardest thing to deal with that morning in the corrals was trying to pump H full of positive energy only to have her turn to D and have him knock it down. Attitude means a lot to me at the beginning of a race. if there is anything I struggle with it is mental strength when running, so it crushed me to hear that D wasn't being as positive as he could.

And then it started. The wheelchairs were off, the elites started, the first wave of runners went, the second, the third, we were probably the fourth or so in line. When we crossed over the start mat I clicked my watch, and the race officially begun. The first mile is probably one of the loudest, most crowded, but most uplifting of the whole race. People fill the streets with signs, banners, and bells. They scream, clap, cheer and encourage. Part of me wonders why they come out in drove to cheer you on for your first mile when really you need it most at the end. I am very concerned with not starting too fast, so we stay to a conservative pace. I listen to people all around me talk, I watch as people start to loose layers. We ran by Mile 1 in just about 11 minutes. Ok for the first mile, but I knew H wanted to PR and her current PR was about 2:12. I started doing math in my head to pass the time and figured if we did 10mm the whole way we would cross the finish in 2:11. That would be cutting it awfully close so basically we'd have to run just under 10mm the whole way. and we were already a minute behind.

For the second mile I tried to pick up the pace slightly. I have to say I was feeling pretty good. We ran down Columbus and it was really nice to have the course open up a lot. Hit mile 2 at 10:30 pace. Felt Great.

Mile 3 we hit our first water stop. It was sticky and there were cups everywhere. I opted not to drink anything for at least mile six. Not sure if that was in my best interest or not.

I don't remember exactly where we passed mile 4, somewhere around South Street I suppose. We were finally on pace at 10mm and The miles were going by pretty fast, I still felt great and I was running slightly ahead of H and D. I don't know if it was just easier to pretend I was running on my own, but I also think that running behind them made me anxious. As long as I was in front I was in control, no matter how fast or slow I was going. But if I let them lead I would have to keep up and knowing I needed to keep up made me feel like I chasing instead of running. D had actually brought three dollars with him for a slice of Lorenzo's and he ran ahead of us for a minute or two but it was so early in the morning they weren't open yet.

As we made our way onto Chestnut Street I was starting to feel my breathing get tight. I scanned the crowds of people for any faces I might know as a distraction but the feeling wasn't getting any better. By somewhere around 22nd street I had to admit to myself that I wasn't going to be able to continue at this pace. I waved over to H&D and let them know I was ok but to let me go slow. The feeling that had taken over many of my long runs was haunting me through my race. I felt so out of breath and I had slowed down so much I was almost walking until the road started sloping uphill. If I was running slow now how was I going to run the 34th street hill? How would I run the hill at mile 9? How would I finish the race.

Without realizing it I had caught up to H&D, but we were reaching the top of a hill and I again slowed down to practically a walk. I knew that if I let my anxiety get the best of me I would be done for, but I also knew that right before mile 8 I would loop by Spring Garden Street and if I wanted to stop then would be the time. If I decided to keep going the only thing taking me home besides my feet would be the first aid car. I did NOT want that to be how I got to the finish to the race. But could I really give up? Did I have it in me to admit I was better off just stopping than to foolishly keep going and torture my body? My mind drifted off momentarily to the second half of the Hartford Marathon last fall. I had wanted to give up so many times due to shortness of breath but how would I ever get back? I thought maybe it didn't matter so I had kept going, every step and every second just wishing I could stop and rest and then maybe I could breathe.

By the time I got to 34th street I had pretty much made up my mind it was over at the top of this hill. I ran that hill with all the energy I could muster, and it helped a lot that there was a huge crowd lining both sides of the street. As I approached Spring Garden Street I had my eyes peeled for BF and when I found him I almost stopped right there on the spot. His face lit up with pride that I was doing a great job and as he snapped pictures of me and offered me words of encouragement it broke my heart to tell him I was done as I jogged in place. He urged me to continue, reminded me that I was already halfway done and I could do it, he knew I could do it. But I couldn't. My heart sank as the words fell out of my mouth and he started to notice how exhausted I looked. Realizing I wasn't giving in he let me stop. I immediately sat down on the sidewalk and started crying. I was so disappointed in myself, not for being slow, but for stopping. For giving up.

I searched my bag frantically for my phone. At times like these no matter how supportive BF was, I needed a mother's words of comfort. I dialed. It rang. And when she answered, and heard my voice on the other end she asked "Are you done? Did you finish?" The first thing I wanted to ask was "Are you crazy? It's only been about an hour and a half how fast do you think I am??" But I just said no, I didn't finish.

"That's ok," she answered. "I am sure you did great, I am proud of you for trying." Leave to my mom to always make me feel better. It was a temporary fix though, it would take the rest of the day and a little bit of the next week before I would stop feeling sorry for myself.

I guess part of my problem is that once I set myself to do something, and more importantly once I tell people I will do something, I feel like I owe it to myself and to them to follow through on my word. Otherwise I am just someone who talks a big talk. It was so hard to look at everyone the next day at work and explain to them why I did not finish my race. It had me pretty down. But as luck would have it I used my disappointment as motivation and that day picked a new race to sign up for. WIth a new goal ahead of me, there was no time to look back and dwell on the past. I had learned a new lesson. Sometimes you have to fall down, you have to fail, in order to make yourself get back up and fight twice as hard to go after what you want.

Keep moving forward friends.

xx Sara