The hardest thing I have ever done.

When I signed up to run with Team Challenge, I was beyond excited to be able to raise money and awareness for a chronic illness while doing something that I am so passionate about. I was incredibly optimistic, ready for the road that lay ahead, confident that my friends and family would want to support me. After-all it has been about five years since I have jumped on the fundraising bandwagon. And this time I wasn't doing it so I could have people to train me, and tell me what to do. I would be running a race in June regardless, but this one meant more, it was special, I was personally tied to the cause.

I had a feeling that just begging and pleading with people to donate would not go over that well. I was in a great city, I had a great network of friends, and I knew they all liked to go out and have a good time. I wanted to plan a bar crawl to get everyone together, raise a bunch of money and have a ton of fun. I thought it would be easy. But typical me, I jumped in way over my head, bit off way more than I could chew and picked the hardest thing on the list with out realizing it. The phone calls alone could have been a second job for me. Let me tell you, trying to make everyone happy is no picnic and even Boyfriend could tell I was getting stressed (and maybe a tad bit bossy...) After two days of non-stop planning and a few minor freak-outs, I had a plan underway. All I had to do now was get people to agree to attend! Piece of cake.

Only it wasn't. It was hard. people were busy, or couldn't commit in the time I needed them to. I slowly grew disappointed, and burnt out from pestering people for answers. I stopped for a few days and although I felt better, I was no closer to a successful event. It was like the second I stopped pushing I stopped seeing results. Sounds a lot like a diet doesn't it? Get lazy and things start to slide? I sent a few follow up emails and messages, and was met with a tiny bit more response but every time I thought I could take a break and rest I needed to keep going. There were many days where I looked forward to a hard tempo run where I could be left alone to just my thoughts. I could set my own terms and worry about pleasing no one except myself. I didn't mind the pain because I knew I was in control.

The more I thought about it I realized fundraising is like running. The lessons you learn are the same, and when you really stop to think about it, both are like life. Sometimes it sucks, and it's really hard, you don't want to keep going but you have to. You have to push and never give up and just keep trying until you reach where it is you want to be. Because when you are standing there, in that moment, when you reach your goal all the hard work is 100% worth it. I am loving every second of being a part of this, enjoying it for all the good it brings to such an important cause. For all the wonderful, friendly, and encouraging people it has brought into my life. It's just another reminder that nothing in life comes easy, and if you're willing to do the work you will get amazing results.

If you or anyone you know would like to donate to the CCFA to help find a cure for Crohn's and colitis, please feel free to visit my fundraising site.

xx Sara

Countdown to race day

With two days until my first half marathon of the year, I am a jumbled mix of excitement and nerves. I have printed every map, direction, and possible piece of information and have them all organized in a manilla folder on my desk. I have written a list of everything I need to pack. I have started to pile together just the right shorts, socks, T-shirt and sports bra. Because of course I have a favorite pair of shorts and sports bra. And I cannot take the chance that I may accidentally wear them on one of my weekday workouts.

With this race looming so close, I spend a lot of time thinking about my goals.

Goal 1: Finish

Goal 2: Finish with not my slowest time ever

Goal 3: If and ONLY if I am feeling good, push myself in the second half and try to finish under 2:10:00

That is it. I may be ready to run a half marathon but it is still only April. I do not want to face getting hurt and having to deal with a nagging injury for the rest of the year. I just want to go out, and have a good fun race. I want to enjoy the expo, enjoy the night before. No nerves. If I'm not happy with my performance there is always June, or September. This is only the beginning.

Saturday I ran twelves miles. And although it was not fast I covered the distance and felt great afterwards. I am more than ready for this race. I am not in the best shape but I am in good shape. Things can only get better from here on out.

But it still won't hurt to wish me luck!

xx Sara

Learning to bend

Early mornings and I, are not good friends as most people would think. I can be painfully perky in the early hours of the day, but this comes after at least an hour of being awake. Morning is a sneaky little trickster tempting me out of my warm cozy bed with bright cheery sunlight and the promise of a delicious cup of coffee (I very rarely drink coffee at night and really look forward to my morning joe). But when you are a runner, early mornings are not only recommended, they are required. In the hot summer months early morning is the only time when the temperatures are cool enough to run in comfort.

For some reason I run on only two modes. Wake up early and start running before my mind can wrap it's head around what is going on, or wait until mid day when I had rested, eaten something and then let it digest. I know it sounds crazy, but for some reason I can't wake up mid morning and have the same kind of run I have early morning or mid day.

Although Saturday was going to be my last long run before my race, I agreed to meet Boyfriend, and his aunt and uncle for dinner after work. I would be meeting his cousin for the first time, in the year and a half we had dated. This may seem like an insignificant get together however Boyfriend didn't have many if more than one cousin he was close to. It was important. Family is always important. So when they broke out the two bottles of wine I couldn't resist a glass, even though it is strictly against my 'night-before-a-long-run' ritual. And when there wasn't any pasta on the menu that sounded good I got a salad, again totally against my ritual. But the food was good, the company better, and I was having a blast. We ate muscles in a delicious red sauce, bread, pasta and chick-pea salad, my dinner was completely oversized and I knew I was eating too much. Strike three - I never eat this much the night before a long run!

I knew I would be ok though. We would get home around 10:30 or 11pm, and I would go straight to sleep. Except when we got back to Boyfriend's aunt and uncle's house (where both our cars were) it was less that easy to make an exit. We sat down on the couch to chat some more. I looked at the clock and realized it was almost 10pm and we were not close to leaving, and the drive home would take at least a half hour. I could have decided right then to get up and go, that running was more important. But I didn't. I instead decided to email the coaches, let them know I wasn't going to be at practice in the morning, and stayed for another hour and a half, laughing and gossiping.

It wasn't until we left that Boyfriend realized how late it was, and I told him I was skipping practice early in the morning. I had no plan. But one thing I knew I needed to do this year was learn to be flexible with my training. My first two years I gave up everything for the chance to run a 4 hour marathon. I failed. And sometimes regretted losing so much of my social life. I realize now that I shouldn't have to pick one over the other, but I should learn to let them live in harmony. This is also the first year really training and being in a relationship, and as with any part of a relationship learning to be flexible is essential.

The next day I woke up rested, ran some errands, ate a perfect breakfast of bagel with peanut butter, drank some water and after letting it digest went on a glorious 12 mile run. I only stopped to drink some water and eat some shot blocks. I finished feeling fantastic, and even took an ice bath to ease my tired muscles. Had I run earlier in the day I would have had to break my run into two parts, I probably would have been exhausted and miserable. Sometimes things just work out for the best, as long as you keep an open mind, and learn to bend a little.

xx Sara

A bad workout is better than NO workout

I don't even want to acknowledge the numbers on my watch I am so disappointed. I want to go to sleep and pretend that run never happened. My mom says I need to stop avoiding life and just face what is right in front of me. She's right. So I will write all about my miserable run, and I will remind myself that not every workout is going to be perfect. Not every race is going to go the way you want it. And so on my quest for faith and acceptance of myself and my abilities, here goes nothing.

I had started looking forward to this run since yesterday afternoon. The weather was close to perfection, I was rested, energized, and excited. Work took longer than planned, but I didn't mind, and even spent some time in the gym working on my abs and arms. I had some new songs on my workout play list

Rude Boy - Rihanna

Your love is my Drug - Kesha

If We Ever Meet Again - Timbaland

I was psyched that I felt so much stronger than usual, I was able to do 12 reps with the 10lb weights when usually I have to quit at 8. I could do more crunches with out feeling like my body was going to break. And I was loosing weight (according to the gym scale, which I don't trust all that much). I was going to have the best run today I could feel it all over. Even the 'fair weather runners' taking up all the good parking spots in my usual lot didn't sour my mood.

Today would be another tempo day. But this time I was aiming for longer, a tiny bit slower, and more consistent. While I was impressed at my fastest mile of tempo last week I knew I had pushed so hard at the end of it I had nothing left. I aimed for three miles of tempo at 8:45/8:50 pace so to see how well I could maintain a constant speed. The run started out well enough. I remembered everything, and was in such a good mood I decided to take my IPod along with me and see how it went. I kept having to hold myself back in the warm up mile and ended up finishing it in 9:08. I was feeling good so I turned it up only a little bit. My mind was lost in the music, those three songs playing over and over in my head and when I finished the second mile in 8:49 I was very pleased.

Later on when looking over my splits on my watch I would find I had hit the split button too many times after crossing my first mile and had a random 5 second split floating around that needed a home. I remember thinking I hadn't hit the button the first time, and hit it again for good measure. So my first tempo mile was really 8:54. But still for the goal I was going for I was right on track.

Into the second mile I keep reminding myself to slow down on my breathing, whenever I notice my breathing getting fast or difficult I force myself to slow it down and focus on long steady strides instead of quick little ones. I feel like my breathing mimics my feet and if my feet get too fast my breathing gets too fast. Halfway through my third mile I have to turn around and head back, to my great surprise I am not running with the wind.

Somewhere in that second half of the third mile, though I am not sure where, things started going wrong. That feeling of not being able to breathe was creeping into my lungs and I couldn't push it away. I began to get frustrated but forced myself to stay on pace, trying to figure out what the problem was, and could I keep going for the third tempo mile with out any problem. I wanted to keep going so bad, I wanted to be proud of my time when I finished this workout, but my body said no. As soon as I crossed the line of that third mile my body immediately slowed as if a hand had reached out and grabbed the back of my shirt, keeping me from going forward. I slowed down, defeated, until I realized how quickly I was able to recover (although I like to think I have always been good at recovery). Maybe I could get back on pace, give a little extra push and not have the next mile be embarrassingly slow? Maybe not. After not even a quarter mile of faster running I was out of breath and trotting along again. I could't figure out what was wrong, this wasn't like me. This was like the old me, the me who didn't know she had Asthma and couldn't do a long run without stopping to catch her breath. And now I could do a long run, so what gives?

Somehow I willed myself to finish the fourth mile (although it was my worst time of all five) and made myself keep going all the way until the end. But for that last mile, I took out my headphones and enjoyed running along the river at dusk on a warm spring day. This is something few people get to enjoy, so peaceful and relaxing. I ran between shadows and lamp posts, passing only a few other runners and walkers along the way. Perhaps I should not neglect to take my other preventative inhaler. I had been slacking because my symptoms had not been interference with my life. But now I was not willing to take that chance. If I was going to be stopped, If I was going to give up, I was going to make sure I was doing everything in my power to prevent it first. I finished the last mile strong, and congratulated myself on at least finishing, especially on such a hot night, AND getting a workout in at the gym prior. I remind myself that everyone has bad days, and sometimes bad weeks but you can't let them drag you down because a good day, or workout could be right around the corner. You have to stay positive and keep your outlook bright.

I got in the car with out even stretching - it was a small poorly lit parking lot and my muscles were just going to have to understand that they were better off un-stretched and alive. By the time I get home, I am over my bad run, ready to just write about it and move on. I still worked hard, I burned calories, I put in the miles, there was nothing shameful about my workout. And so as I am making dinner and looking over my split times on my watch I notice my total time. I dash to the computer to pull up my blog and compare to last weeks 5 mile time. (Because yes I am that big of a nerd and write down all my times so I can compare)

At first I read 47:47:24. Which is a mere second longer than last weeks run. But then I remember that after I crossed the line of that fifth and final mile I forgot to press 'stop' and my watch kept running for an extra bit of time (I know you'd think after three years with this thing I'd figure out how to use it). I check my total time at that point and much to my surprise my total time was 46:50:09. Faster than last week. Maybe my miserable run wasn't such a miserable run after all?

Workout Recap

Mile 1: 9:08

Mile 2: 8:54

Mile 3: 8:59

Mile 4: 9:57

Mile 5: 9:49

Total: 46:50:09

xx Sara

Do one thing ever day that scares you

Training for a marathon does't scare me. Running the marathon does't scare me. Failing at running the marathon scares me.

I know I have said I have regained my confidence and now that I have been diagnosed with Asthma officially I know nothing stands between me and the finish line. Except that big furry monster wall of fear.

This year I only signed up for halves. Because they don't scare me in the least. In fact after finishing running 12 miles change on Saturday morning I realized I was totally ready for my race in two weeks. I could run it this weekend if I wanted to, if my goal was to finish. And right now my goal has been to just get into shape, stay in shape, and not get hurt.

But then my goals started to change. I joined Team Challenge. I set my sights on PR'ing at the PDR in September. This meant (to me) over-distance training, which I was perfectly ok with. And to cap off the year I would do the Philadelphia Half Marathon and actually finish. With every workout I do I am pushing myself, and I am surprising myself with the results. Every interval, every repeat, every mile I come in under the time I thought I would I realize I have already outgrown my goals. I start to realize with the shape I am in now, there are no excuses for why I can't sign up for the Philadelphia Marathon. The whole thing. All 26.2 miles. Oh yea except I am terrified beyond belief and want to put it off for as long as possible.

Maybe it's the increasing number of running blogs I have been reading. Maybe it's running with all the fabulous runners and mentors with Team Challenge. Or maybe it's because it's April and the Boston Marathon is right around the corner, teasing me, taunting me with the hope that I could one day run that course. Why put off until tomorrow what you could get done today? Why put off until next year what I know I am capable of in the fall?

So I did it. I bit the proverbial bullet and made the decision (as soon as I have the available funds) that I am going to try the marathon once again. I will set myself a much more modest goal of course, somewhere around 4:25/4:30 I am thinking and we'll see how the rest of the year and the rest of my halves go. I may change my goal. But right now it feels good (in a scary way) to have a larger than life goal out there in front of my face. The orange post it note in my day planner that used to read "register for Philly half by 4.31" has been thrown away and replaced with "Register for the Philadelphia Marathon by 4.31" Yikes!

Who knows. Maybe the third time really is the charm for me.

xx Sara

One step closer to done.

So tired that the last thing I even want to be doing right now is writing, but words are bouncing around in my head like ping pong balls and so I need to get them out.

Saturday was the worst and the best of everything. The weather was cold and foggy seamlessly melting into hot and sunny. My body said "Bring it on" and then recounted with "What did you DO to me??" What did I do? Twelve miles.

Let me start by saying it was another two runs in one day kind of weekend. Since signing up with Team Challenge a month ago I have tried to go to as many practices as I can. Although the mileage is shorter than what I had wanted to do on a Saturday, I was willing to break my runs up into two's in order to spend some time with the team.

Clearly fitting in is just not something I am good at. When I got to the park I was early and ended up walking up to the wrong group, looking around at all of them with out saying anything and then walked away. And of course I decided to wear the shortest shorts on the day that tuned out to be cold and cloudy and everyone else was wearing long pants. I laughed it all off and was still as upbeat as I could be considering the cold.

I pushed myself harder than I would on any part of a long run, especially one with hills. This was mostly due to the amazing mentors that show up to run with us including fellow blogger Denise From Running Journal. I listen to them talk about training for ultras, and qualifying for Boston and I thought of Larry. It was like running with four Larry's, older Larry's. It was like having my own running entourage surrounding me (literally I ran in the middle of all of them) telling me stories and I the naive little novice just soaked it all up and let it drive me. I let the idea of running more than 26.2 miles in a row float around in my brain with everything else. I listened to them talk about Chia seeds and other health foods and I remembered the times when I went on a health kick and loved it but it could never last because I can't deny my sometimes love of processed foods. I begin to wonder if I could be ready for a marathon by the end of the year. I know what the answer is. With out a doubt I could be ready. But I know there is a huge part of me that is scared to death to fail again. I know I can do the training. I can do the speed work and the long runs, but I am scared of that race. I am scared to fail again.

But I push that thought to the back of my mind as I approach the final hill of the loop. It stares me in the face, laughs at me and forces me to slow down. The confident feeling I had inside me for the rest of the run disappeared as I slowed behind the rest of the pack until we reached the top of the hill. Slowing to a jog and then walking never felt so good. My body cried out in joy, and I rewarded it with Shot Blocks and Gatorade, little did it know it was far from done!

An hour later I was back on my feet again, running along west river drive. My mind was so tired already that I had trouble remembering where I had started and spend a good quarter mile trying to figure out where my turn around point would be. I spend most of the time watching people. Couples out running together, women out plodding along with fuel belts strapped to their waists, one guy raced by me at a speed so fast I was in awe and I literally stared as he flew by. Forgetting where I stared made the turn around point come faster than I expected and as I headed back I ran passed two girls in shorts and tank tops walking ahead of me on the path. I had passed these same girls running in the opposite direction and instantly envied their skinny legs sticking out of their shorts. They ran along at a brisk pace and made it look so easy, and were easily at least four years younger than me. I made a mental note to tell my sisters to never let their legs get fat. Work out for as long as you can, do whatever you need to do, but never let your legs get fat because it is so hard to un-do.

But now I pass them as they have slowed to a walk and I think at last I can re-claim a little bit of pride as not just the slow girl. Until I hear feet speed up behind me and giggles and they have once again ran ahead. I remind myself my goals of the day, to run 12 miles, and not to compare myself to anyone else. There will always be strong runners, faster runners, and dozens of people to whom running comes naturally. I know myself well enough to come to terms with the fact that with my short legs I am not a natural runner. But I do the best I can and always put on 110% and as long as I do I am happy. So I keep going. I keep going across falls bridge and when I realize I have under a mile to go I find an extra little ounce of energy and pull it out for the last stretch. In that last half mile I once again pass the skinny legged girls now stretching out next to a tree. I don't let myself get cocky or gloat (although it does feel good) but I think to myself, I don't know anything about them, so I cannot judge. Just as people passing me do not know how many miles I have run today, or what my capabilities or goals are, and they cannot judge. And if they do I will never know.

Finishing that last stretch of my long run has never felt so good. I found a stride and an energy I never knew I had. I pushed and my legs didn't hurt and I finished and I have never felt better. I think if you looked at me at that very moment in time you would have asked me why I was glowing. I was radiating with the joy of having finished 12 miles and feeling fabulous. One mile less than my race in a few weeks meant I was one step closer to being back to my crazy running self. Although I physically felt tired, mentally I was on top of the world and I felt like everyone could see it.

I continued on my day like normal, getting my usual post run ice coffee with espresso added in for an extra kick. I told myself I would take a nap when I got home but like usual I cleaned instead until Boyfriend called and we hung out together all afternoon. It wasn't until dinner time that I started to feel the effects the morning's workout. It started innocently enough with some minor aches and pains but graduated into full fatigue until I passed out on the couch unable to keep my eyes open anymore. And even though I woke up the next morning with pain in my knee whenever I bent to sit down, I took some Advil followed by some ice and by noon (and a few glasses of wine later) I was feeling like myself again. I felt strong and accomplished and couldn't wait until I could get out there and run again.

Boyfriend and I ran three miles after work tonight. He PR'd. By over 3 minutes (because I pushed him the entire second half) and I deleted the time off my watch instead of saving it! I was so mad I wish I could have saved it so he could have seen it. I have never been so proud of him and all he has achieved. But I say that at the end of every workout.

xx Sara

My First 5K

Since boyfriend is training away for his first EVER 5k race, I have been taking some strolls down memory lane about MY first 5k race. The story itself is pretty short, but the ending always makes me laugh.

I gauge myself to be somewhere between the ages of 10-12. Too young to remember any really vivid details but old enough to be trusted with the task of running a 5k by myself. Only I was not by myself. I was with my cousin K who was, and still is, 18 months older than me. Along with her older brother we were the first three grandchildren on my mom's side of the family and were very close. She was more like a big sister, in all the good AND bad ways. K was not what I would call athletic, in fact looking back I am not sure how we came to the conclusion that we would run the race together.

The 5k was in Shelburn Falls MA, which is about an hour and a half drive from my parents house in southwestern MA, and was smaller part of a 10K race as the main event for the day. It was called the Bridge of Flowers and mid race there was this nasty vertical wall of a hill that my mom can still tell stories about. She had run the 10k for a few years, and thought it would be good for me to run the 5k at the same time. That was my mom, always trying to get me to come run along with her. Clever that one. So the night before Mom, K and I drove up to Shelburn, spent the day sightseeing and such, and spent the night in a nearby motel.

I have no memory of waking up and getting ready for the race. Or what it was like to be on the start line. I don't remember what I wore, or even any actual running. But I do remember at some point in the 3 mile course, which felt like 12 miles to our young inexperienced legs, stopping. K, like I said before was not athletic, so needless to say she did not make it very far with out needing to stop and walk. That is the only thing I remember about being in the race course. I remember wanting to keep going, wanting to just get to the finish, but being a loyal cousin and staying with her.

And then I remember as we took our final turn down the main street towards what was supposed to have been the finish. There were crowds lining the streets still, cheering on the 10k runners who sped by. We were two lost little girls walking down the street with numbers pinned to our chests. And we wanted to cross the finish. We approached someone who looked official, man or woman I do not remember, and how we knew he could help I also cannot recall. But when we proudly told him we had finished the race he looked at us quite confused. The 5k race? we persisted, in case he didn't realize which we were talking about, we could understand.

"Oh," he said with still a hint of confusion in his voice, "I thought everyone was done with that race"

It was a simple statement, and he was right, but that memory will stay with me forever. We took so long they forgot we were still out there. Granted it was a very small race, and there were no chips, no timing devices, all they did was take a piece of paper off your bib with your number on it and put it on a string. I couldn't really blame them. Now that I am much older and have experienced many other races just as small I can understand how someone who walks the 3 mile course can get lost in the crowd, especially with another main event going on. But I was 10 (or 12) and I have been forgotten, and that is something that never leaves you.

In the end we found my mom, who was again running the 10K, and we partied with the best of them through all of the post race festivities. We told my mom the story and I'm sure she just shook her head and laughed. Now no matter how slow or bad a day I am having, at least I know I am well past the pace of being lost in the crowd.

xx Sara