running

Cook Forest 25K Trail Challenge

So, I did a last thing last weekend. Several months ago in a running group I am, I spotted a post about the Cook Forest 25K Trail challenge. Normally, I would stay away from trail races because I am a giant klutz, and I cannot afford another accident. This one was different thought – this challenge didn’t have a time limit!

I asked my friend, Tammy, if she wanted to do this trail race with me. She agreed, and thus began our training for this race. We spent weekends doing long trail hikes at Frick Park in weather that could be best described as “swampy.” Not fun, friends.

The conditions for the Cook Forest 25K Trail Challenge were similar. I was hoping for a break from the humidity but Mother Nature just said “Nah.” During the second mile, we kept just going up, and up, and up. I struggled trying to get my heart rate to calm down and had to stop multiple times to regroup. Honestly, if my friend wasn’t with me, I probably would have turned back around and DNF’d the race.

I’m glad that I did power through. I’m stubborn but as you can see from this picture, I took every step carefully. I had two goals for this race: finish and finish without injuring myself.

Cook Forest is gorgeous. This was my first time hiking in this forest, and I am a big fan. It’s gorgeous. Honestly, this race reminded me why I love being out in the trails so much. Some folks like to go to the beach – me, I want to go play in a forest.

The weather absolutely sucked throughout the race, but my goodness, look at the scenery. Plus, I got to spend almost 6 hours traipsing along in a forest with a good friend.

The conditions were brutal, but Tammy and I finished. When the official race results posted, I learned that I actually came in last place. My first DEAD FUCKING LAST at a race. Haha, I am so proud. I am pretty sure Before Cancer (BC), I would have been bummed about my last place. Nope, not bummed in the slightest. I might have been last place, but I was probably the only runner there with MBC. First in my Age Group, baby.

Run, Lara… RUN

It’s no secret that I’ve struggled since my cancer recurrence diagnosis. Basically, this diagnosis came into my life like a tornado, and I’ve been struggling to pick up the pieces and figure out what next. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by my circumstances that it feels like I can’t breathe. I try not to show the soul-crushing fear that comes over me, and whenever someone asks me how I am, “Doing okay, you?”

I needed to find a way to deal with my stress, and running used to be a be one of the ways I dealt with my stress and anxiety. Without running, I have felt lost and agitated. I do have other hobbies that don’t require a lot of physical activity, but running allowed me to get out my every-day nervous energy.

With the blessing of my oncologist, I started running again since the weather got decent. A fellow runner friend wrote up a 12 week couch-to-5K program for me. That’s right – I am starting over and running again! I’m a believer in the run/walk method, and I am going to stick with this method until I cannot run anymore. Run/walk is much kinder to your body, and I need to be as kind as I can to my body.

It’s been five weeks, and let me tell you, I can definitely tell a marked improvement in my overall mood. I am definitely less agitated. In fact, my therapist is so happy with my progress that she’s seeing me every other week, as opposed to weekly appointments. Waaaaat. I mean, don’t get me wrong – I am not cured of my terminal illness blues, and this depression and anxiety is sticking around. I’m just coping with the shit hand I’ve been dealt a little better.

Running is meditation for me. It’s one of the few times where my brain just shuts off, and I just focus on what my body is doing. I don’t think about cancer. I am focused on my breathing, my surroundings, and how I’m feeling. When I go run downtown, I am enjoying the view of the river or the many Pittsburgh bridges. I feel peace, which I know is an odd thing to say. If you ever saw me run, I don’t look like someone who’s at peace haha. Whenever I see my racing photos, I look either in pain or confused. I do feel peace.

I don’t focus on time anymore when I run. I just want to finish. That’s it. If I am able to do another half marathon and it takes me 3 1/2 hours to finish it, so be it. All I want to do is finish, and more importantly, I want to finish pain free. I never want to voluntarily give myself pain and discomfort when cancer is more than capable of doing that itself, thank you very much. I’m going to be smart about this.

I am liking that my legs are starting to feel strong again to me, and I’m sure my oncologist is going to be a happy camper tomorrow when I tell him my progress. Part of me does want to be a strong terminal cancer patient. However, I honestly don’t know how long I will be able to keep running. This isn’t easy for me. I’m tired pretty much all the time, and my joints feel achey as all hell. I take medication that sucks all the estrogen out of my body, so my bones are becoming old lady bones.

I might only be able to run for 6 more months or maybe a couple of years. I’m going to give thanks for every run and celebrate the physical strength I still have left in me.

Richmond Marathon Recap

For my latest marathon recap, I thought I about adding some inspirational running quote meme at the beginning, but I couldn’t find one that perfectly summed up how I felt about this race. I am the World’s Okayest Runner, and I would like to explain why I no longer want to run stupid long distances anymore.

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I want to preface this by saying that I worked with a coach for this training cycle, and she was amazing. I would not have even gotten to the start line at the Richmond marathon without her guidance and training plan. I hope my thoughts and feelings about running stupid long distancdes do not cast any negative light on her or her coaching.

I thought I had a more difficult time with my long runs during this training cycle. The heat and humidity never seemed to relent, and I ended most runs feeling like I just went through hell and back. I know a lot of people will say, “Those runs just mean you’ll go so much faster when it gets colder!” However, when each run feels like a battle and you end each one feeling sweatier than you ever thought possible, it can affect someone’s motivation and by someone, I mean, mine. I just felt defeated.

A month and a half before the race, I injured my left shoulder and had to refrain from cross training and strength training. I honestly haven’t the foggiest on what I did to injure my shoulder, which is the same one I hurt a week before the Pittsburgh marathon. Unlike the Pittsburgh marathon, this 2nd go around with the shoulder pain lasted a lot longer and felt way more intense. I could still run and do my training runs since I wasn’t swinging my arms around wildly as I ran.

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The week before Richmond, I was finishing a track workout when my groin muscle felt tight but not pulled or anything. “Weird,” I thought that day but never gave it much thought. I had a pulled groin muscle 10 or so years ago, and this definitely did not give me the same “Oh Crap” feeling.

On Race Day, everything felt as good as it was going be. I did not wake up with any pain in my shoulder or groin. That second part turned out to not be true around mile 6 or 8 when I was making good time. My groin began to ache as I ran, and now and then, I shook my leg and hip out in a futile attempt to loosen something up.

The wind played a big factor in the race for me. While it wasn’t freezing weather or anything, it was chilly and the slightly above normal winds made it pretty darn cold at times. The absolute worst part of the marathon was the bridge, which ended up being the start of the Wall. As the wind whipped my face and made my fingers numb, I thought, “Well, this isn’t going to end the way you had hoped for.” All of us were running against the wind, and I am sure my eyes were not the only ones fighting watery eyes.

After the bridge, the Wall showed up, and from then on, it was a battle and I’m pretty sure I lost. My groin pain got worse, and around mile 21 or 22, the other side of my groin started hurting as well. I wonder if this is the result of the cold not letting up and my body never having gotten comfortable.

The downhill finish at the Richmond Marathon was supposed to be a welcome relief to runners at the end of the race. For me, the downhill finish line made my groin muscle scream, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” A volunteer coach toward the end saw my face and the struggle, and she ran with me for a short bit. I told her that my groin hurt, and she said, “After you finish, keep moving. Don’t stop moving.” The Richmond volunteers were absolute champs and amazing.

When I crossed the finish line, I unleashed what I was holding back for 18 or so miles. I started crying but not because I was overcome with emotion – I was overcome with pain. Some poor girl handed me my finisher medal and said “…. congratulations?” to me, as I took the medal from her.

I was very cold before the race.
I mean, really cold.

I can now say I am a four-time marathonner, and that’s how it’s going to be for the time being. For a hot minute, I thought I would train for a 5th marathon in the spring and perhaps do a 50K race in June, and then say See YA to long distances. As soon as I crossed the finish line, my face stained with tears, I knew that Richmond would be my last marathon for the time being. Between the shoulder and groin, I am not convinced that I am built for stupid long distances.

I am burnt out and disheartened. No matter how much effort I put forth and how hard I work for a marathon, I keep getting the same results. I am looking forward to dropping down to half marathons again. Plus, my busy season at work will be kicking into high gear very soon (like, as soon as I get back from Thanksgiving break). I need to take away any voluntary stressors since work is more important than running.

The beauty of all this is I get to figure out what I want to do next, and then work on achieving that goal with a smile on my face and a spring to my step.

I want to end this recap by memorializing some of the cool things I saw during the Richmond marathon race:

  • A man dressed in an inflatable T-rex costume for the full marathon. From what I heard, he finished the whole race in that costume and in an impressive time.
  • An elderly man with a cane was in the middle of the road during mile 20 or 21. He was borderline heckling us. “I thought this was a race, but this might be the end of it because y’all are WALKING.” Haha, dude. Give us a break. This is a lot of miles!
  • This college-aged girl – who had been hanging out on a porch with a couple of dudes and cheering on runners for the race – shouted, “THAT IS THE CUTEST FUCKING DOG I HAVE EVER SEEN” at this middle aged couple just walking a golden retriever. TBH, it was a really cute golden retriever, and I totally get her intense response to the dog.
  • A DJ at one of the music stations was calling out runners individually by their Bib. I had the pleasure of hearing, “Huffman… rules. That’s right you do.” I gave a fist bump, a la John Bender at the end of the Breakfast Club.
  • My friends Abbie and Naomi at the end cheering me when everything hurt and I was questioning all my life’s choices. My friends are pretty damn awesome.

I’m trying to smile here but it might be more of a grimace.

 

Glacier Ridge Trail Ultra 30K

The Pittsburgh Marathon took place on a Sunday. The following Saturday, I drove up to Moraine State Park and completed the Glacier Ridge Trail Ultra 30K. I know what you might be thinking – “Lara, you ran a marathon on a Sunday and then did a trail run on Saturday! Are you crazy?”

Yes, yes I am.

Was it a good idea?

Nope, no it was not.

Back in 2015, I did this race and the last couple of miles were pure hell. I ran out of water, the temperature got ridiculously hot, and I had side cramps that made even walking forward difficult. I should also clarify that I ran out of water because my dumb ass passed up a water stop. If my memory serves me, I didn’t come in before the cutoff, but they gave me a medal anyway.

When I crossed the finish line, my friends Kelly and Emily were waiting for me. Once they saw how overheated I was and how much my fingers looked like sausages, they went into overdrive to make sure I cooled down. Water may or may not have been poured over my head.  Honest to dog, I honestly thought I might need medical attention for the last mile.

This race haunted me.

Gearing up for 2019, I vowed to not make the same mistake I made in 2015. I wore a hydration vest and carried an extra bottle of water in the backpack. I did trail runs on a semi frequent basis prior to the race. I thought all my marathon training, weight training and other cross training meant that I was going to kill this race.

Before the race, I found out the cutoff time for the race was 7 hours. I thought, “Oh, so that must have meant I ran it past 7 hours back in 2015. I got this!” Plus, the temperature was absolutely perfect the day of the race. However, the day before the race, it had rained a bit, so the trail was pretty muddy. I’m talking the kind of mud where your shoe stays in it but your foot leaves (that is, if you don’t tie your shoes secure enough).

During the race, I felt good, all things considering. I kept reminding myself that I had ran a marathon (injured, nonetheless) not even a full week ago. I stayed properly hydrated and didn’t feel like I was all alone for most of the race, unlike last time. For a long stretch, there was a woman I kept figuratively and literally chasing. I know she was using me as inspiration to keep going faster. We leap-frogged a couple of times and when she was ahead of me, I noted her looking back at me a couple of times and then increasing her speed.

(Spoiler alert: I caught up to her for the last mile and a half. I beat her! Mwahaha.)

Someone actually captured a photo of me during the last portion of the race. I’m smiling and more importantly, I’m actually running. If someone had photographed me in 2015, they would have caught me in the midst of heat exhaustion, wanting to cry.

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I wanted to come in under six hours, but that didn’t happen. I walked more than I wanted to, but I listened to my body. I came in at 6:09, but I wasn’t in the midst of heat exhaustion or potential heat stroke. I was happy that I came in with time to spare! I didn’t get swept!

I was convinced that I destroyed my 2015 time because didn’t I not make the cut off time that year? I looked at my time from 2015 when I got home from GRT and saw that I was 11 minutes SLOWER this year.

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No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It took me a day to accept that I was actually slower this year. I was definitely a lot faster at 35 compared to 39, plus I may have gained a little bit of weight.

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Whatever, I still did it and I came in feeling strong. This race isn’t going to haunt me anymore.

 

So, I did a thing

Last year, when I signed up for the Hyner 25K Trail Race, I said to myself that I would  train for this race. Yes, ma’am, I would be a good little runner and be prepared for once. Before I signed up, I knew very well that Hyner was a beast. I mean, look at this elevation profile.

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A year went by, and I trained… but for the Pittsburgh marathon. I did some trail runs here and there, but absolutely nothing to really train for Hyner. I have been running four days a week and cross-training at least once a week, mostly two days a week. I’m in fairly decent shape and I thought maybe there’s a shot I can survive Hyner.

Barely survive, that’s what happened for me at Hyner.  Here are pictures from the time at Hyner 25K taken by friends of mine. I didn’t take any pictures along the way because I was too focused on not falling or hurting myself. Since it had rained pretty hard the day before the race, the conditions were less than ideal. The ground was ridiculously muddy, and the stream crossings were a little… intense.

I ended up spending the entire 16 mile trek with a new running friend. I honestly do not know if I would have finished without her. I could have mentally DNF’d at some of the aid stations, but I know she never would let me. If I hurt myself and had to drop out, that would have been one thing. Quitting – nope.  Amy would have pep-talked at me until I got back on the trail and gave it a shot.

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See the top there? I made it up there.

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My right calf seized up on me, and my right foot went numb around this time.

Hyner 25K caps at 1,000 registrants, and it has a 9 hour cut off. Out of the 1,000 registrants, there were 798 finishers, and I was motherfucking number 788. That’s right – I FINISHED.

This trail race was the most physically and mentally demanding feat I have ever voluntarily done. (Since I have gone through cancer treatment, that’s going to always take number one spot.)  Afterwards, I thought no way in hell do I want to do this again. A couple of days removed from the race, I’ve been thinking, maybe one more time.

My recent life motto has been this: “I don’t know if I can, but I will try.” I say it to the trainer I work with once a week whenever he has me try something new. Here, I looked up at Humble Hill and had no idea if I could do this. I tried, and look what happened. I finished.

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Pittsburgh is my White Whale

On May 5, 2019, I am finally going to catch my White Whale. I’m going to give it everything I have physically and mentally, and I am going to attempt to run the Pittsburgh Full marathon. This will be my third marathon, but it will be my first time attempting the entire full marathon course in Pittsburgh.

I have wanted to give this race a shot several times but life got in the way.  I have signed up for the full once before–forget which year–but dropped down to the half when I realized I couldn’t do the full marathon. One year, I decided to put the Pittsburgh full off until next year when I started a new job as a consultant. The following year, I ended up doing the Columbus full as my first marathon.

The following year, I put the Pittsburgh full off until new year when I had surgery on my abdomen. That surgery reset me to zero but I still tried to do a marathon that year. I ran the Indianapolis full in 2017 and added a half hour to my previous marathon time.

I wanted to do the Pittsburgh full marathon in 2018, but at the end of 2017, I tripped and face planted, breaking my nose and pride. By the time I recovered from that, bronchitis came roaring into my lungs and hung out there for a solid month.  Last year, I put the Pittsburgh full off until this year.

This is my mother-fracking year. I am going to do this. I had a couple of challenges, namely bronchitis yet again.  My umpteenth bout with bronchitis and my one billionth sinus infection during this recent training cycle actually led me to installing an internal french drain in my basement. I am tired of getting sick, damnit.

 For the first time ever, I am actually consistently cross-training during a training cycle. I have been seeing a trainer once a week, and I’ve been working on weights and core. Friends, I actually have a bicep muscle. Squee! The other day, the trainer referred to me as Quadzilla. Other people can actually see the progress I’ve made since I decided to accomplish this goal of mine and get this White Whale. I am giving it everything that I can.

Pittsburgh, in all its hills and pot holes, is my White Whale. Just even thinking about running the  Pittsburgh fullmade me think I could be more than a sickie, that I could be a runner. That I could actually be an athlete. Growing up, I was the weirdo kid who you did not want on your team during gym class, so for me to even be considered athletic is mind boggling.

Pittsburgh is my white whale because if I end up not being able to do any marathons after this, I will be okay because I did the race I have always wanted to do.

I’m fundraising for the Cystic Fibrosis foundation, which does amazing work for those living with Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. My cousin Kathryn’s children, Andrew and Cece, have Cystic Fibrosis. I want these little ones to grow up as strong and healthy as they can be, and the CFF is the foundation making that happen. Whatever you can donate, I appreciate it, and if you can’t donate,  please share!

https://www.crowdrise.com/o/en/campaign/runtocurecf2019/lkhuffman

 

I am not a good sick person

Almost a month ago, I woke up with a fever and head congestion. I didn’t take any time off from work, nor did I go to the doctor for any medication. I worked from home that week, and I thought that was sufficient. I took a week off from running and honestly thought, “I’m okay.”

Soon after, evidence of my 1093908 sinus infection came around, and I continued to ignore it. Each morning, I enjoyed my hot steamy shower as it allowed me to clear my sinuses. Despite evidence to the contrary, I kept telling myself, “I’m okay.”

I continued to run 4 days a week and cross training 2 days a week. Last weekend, I did a 15 mile race and felt so terrible afterwards. Granted, it was cold and North Park isn’t the most forgiving. Still, I felt like I had been hit by a truck and had zero energy for the post-race festivities. I still thought, “I’m okay.”

For almost two weeks, I had obvious signs of a sinus infection, and I knew it was a sinus infection. I would hack up a lung every time I stopped running, plus I was fatigued. I knew I was sick, but I still thought, “I’m okay…. this will pass.”

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During work on Thursday, I started to feel an ache in my chest and began wheezing, and finally the rational part of my brain screamed, “Go see a frickin doctor, you dumb ass!” I still fought the urge, texting Best Boyfriend Ever that I was considering going to Urgent Care after work.

I was still ON THE FENCE because I didn’t want someone to tell me what I already knew: I had to stop running and rest. The Pittsburgh Marathon is my goal race, and The Race that I want to accomplish as my big fuck you to [Redacted]. I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone but myself, and I am trying to prove that I am more than my faulty genes.

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Best Boyfriend Ever responded, “Go to Urgent Care.”

At Urgent Care, the PA listened to me breathing and took a look at my nostrils, saying immediately, “Whoa there, you have quite the sinus infection.” (Sigh.)  She then told me that based on the wheezing she heard, I definitely had bronchitis, likely from the sinus infection traveling downward.

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When I went back to work yesterday, I saw my discharge paper from Urgent Care. I noticed that I came in with a slight fever: 99.7. I got so used to feeling under the weather for the past month that I didn’t even realize I was running a mild fever.

I’m not a good sick person. I can deal with a chronic condition like [redacted] like a champ, with slight hiccups along the way. But, apparently, faced with a temporary illness, the personality traits I don’t necessarily care about myself come to the front: stubbornness.

My anxiety also manifests itself as not liking to rest. I constantly feel like I have to be doing something or training. It’s why I love running so much – it quiets my anxiety.  My anxiety is telling me that if I rest too long, I’ll screw up my training for the Pittsburgh marathon, and maybe I’m not really an athlete. I’m just a sickie sick person who does nothing but get sick.

I know it’s not rational, but [redacted] has instilled a sense of panic in me. How much time do I have until [redacted] comes roaring back? I feel like I’m on borrowed good health time, and I want to enjoy it and take advantage of it while I can. This is what goes in the mind of someone who’s already had cancer twice, a [redacted] diagnosis, and generalized anxiety disorder.

It’s why I’m not a good sick person. I have so much I want to get done. Good health is a gift, and I don’t want to waste a second.

Half Marathon #15 – Richmond

The race that I have been training for has come and gone. Shortly after my [redacted] diagnosis and the depression that followed, I thought it would be best to drop down from the marathon to the half marathon. I was under a lot of stress, and the last thing I needed was self-inflicted stress while I dealt with medical issues.

Frankly, it was the best decision I have made recently. I felt a weight lifted off me, and I could start training again and focus on having fun.

Beloved boyfriend and I arrived at Richmond on Friday where we picked up my half marathon packet. When I had signed up for the full marathon, I had paid for them to pay for my bib and shirt to be mailed to my house. As such, I had a Richmond marathon shirt, not a half marathon shirt.

I brought it into the expo, and when I went to get my half marathon shirt, I tried explaining to two volunteers why I was giving back a shirt. “You … can keep the shirt,” the man responded after I explained why I was trying to give it back.

“I can’t wear a shirt of a race I didn’t do,” I said aloud, slowly feeling like a crazy person.

Another volunteer laughed and took the shirt. “I get it,” he promised me. I heard him say to the other guy, “Runners, man.”

On race day, I woke up feeling ready and confident. I began putting on the race outfit I laid out the day before… only to realize I had packed yoga pants, not running tights. What the hell, Huffman! I went through a momentary bout of panic because I hadn’t run in yoga pants since I started a couch to 5k.

I also thought I’d look like a total running hobbyist by running a half marathon in frickin’ yoga pants. Why do I own so many black running tights that I confuse them with my black yoga pants? Also, why don’t I separate yoga and running pants? Argh. Given that I had no other choice, I put my big girl pants on figuratively and put my actual pants on literally. I looked and felt like a jagoff, but I had nothing else to wear.

During the run, y’all, I felt mostly great. The weather was perfect running weather, and the course elevation was tame compared to Pittsburgh. During the 5th mile, I had to stop and adjust my right sock twice because it felt off. (Turns out, I was right because I had a giant blister on my big right toe. Guess I didn’t fix the sock problem.)

Throughout the run, I focused on my breathing, not shrugging my shoulders, and lifting my damn legs. I had to fight the urge to shuffle my feet and shrug my shoulders. I stopped at every water stop and drank water, or I stopped to eat the Gu chews. Hell, I walked a couple of spots just to get my heart rate back down.

The best part of the race had to be downhill finish. I know when I came to the end, I probably had a huge grin on my face. I hyped myself up and said, “Let’s do this, Huffman,” and I went flying down that hill. The first part of my final mile, I had to walk for 30 seconds. That makes that 10:17 mile at the end even more fist bump worthy.

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I’m happy with my time! I can’t remember the last time I had so many miles in the 10-minute pace. I didn’t have an overall time goal, only just to finish and have fun. Mission freaking accomplished.  I finished, and I’m proud of my time.

I went through a lot to get to this mindset and place. It took me awhile but I have stopped comparing myself now to what I used to be able to do. That never helped me and just made me feel angry at myself.  I’m looking at each training cycle in the present, and keeping the past (especially results before a 5-inch incision in my abdomen) in the past.

For my 15th half marathon, I listened to my coach and checked my pride at the door. I knew what I had been doing was wrong with a capital W, so I listened to the coaching and advice from Coach Dan. I’m glad I did because this is one of the best results I have had in a while.

Looking forward to half marathon #16 – maybe I”ll see the 2:10-19 range again…. that’s the beauty of running. There’s always the next race. [Redacted] will take a lot from me, but it cannot and will not take my running from me. I may have [redacted] but I am a mother-fucking runner.

30 years

This month, it’ll be 30 years since my mother died. Gotta say, it feels surreal that she’s been gone for this long. My mom, she missed pretty much everything in my life, minus my birth. She was definitely there for that one. After that, my mother missed my First Communion, Confirmation, high school graduation, college graduation, first job, first heartbreak, buying my first house, so on and so on.

She wasn’t there when I had breast cancer. More than anything, I missed her while I was going through treatment. I wanted my parent there so badly. Just because I don’t remember doesn’t mean I don’t miss her and have a mom-shaped hole in my heart, which will never go away.

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This is what she just missed in my life. My two brothers, each of whom have kids, also missed out having our mother in their lives.

Metastatic breast cancer is a thief. It’s a dirty dirty thief. It stole my mother, and I’m doing something about it. Once again, I’m raising money for Metavivor. Every dollar you donate will go toward researching metastatic breast cancer. This year, I decided to run 30 miles this year – one mile for every year she has been gone.

That’s right – 30 freaking miles. I’m doing a marathon and then 3.8 miles before.  The date will be November 18 – be there or be square, and watch me hobble toward this bonkers goal of mine.

If you can donate, then you can do so here:

https://secure.metavivor.org/page/contribute/larahuffman30

If you cannot, I understand and would be very appreciative of anyone who can share my story and my link.

Oops… I Did it Again

What did I do, you might be asking? Well, I signed up for my second marathon.  I signed for the Indianapolis full marathon in early November, and training for this race begins soon.

I swore up and down that my first marathon would be a one and done for me, but yeah. I decided to give it another go now that I got over the whole, “Can I even do this?” I know that I can, so the new question will be, “Can I learn from my mistakes?”

When I signed up for Columbus, my primary goal was just to finish and the secondary goal was to finish in five hours. Well, I finished the marathon in five hours and 55 seconds (give or take a second or five). I came super duper close to coming in less than five hours and that has been haunting me.

For weeks afterward, I would think about my time and think, “Oh man, if I had trained just a little bit harder, I could have persevered and ran a sub-5.” 

I barely cross trained. I didn’t do any toolbox runs (ie tempo runs or speedwork). I swear on my pretty bonnet that I am going to do these and work my approaching middle-age tush off.

Once again, I have enlisted the help of a coach to help me reach the finish line. It’s a different coach this time around. The coach I previously worked with was booked, and I wasn’t going to be a burden to a busy man. I’ll be working with Sara, and I’m very excited about this.

So despite being busy with work and finding time to spend with my favorite fella who makes me grin from ear to ear, I decided to give marathon number two a real honest go. This is important to me, so I’m going to make time and shuffle my prioritites. Less TV, more running.  I’m so glad my fella understands how much running is important to me. He has even offered to go with me to these races in different cities. How lucky am I?

I plan on writing more about my quest for sub-5. It’s going to happen, my friends.