The Pittsburgh Marathon: My Perfect Storm

I'm like a broken record. I keep saying that my next race I'll train for real, seriously I will. I mean it this time. When I ran Harrisburg, I put six panic filled weeks of 40+miles in order to finish. I remember shuffling my lead bearing legs down the streets of Harrisburg for the last six miles and thinking about the lunacy of it all. Who doesn't take three to five months to train for these? This kid, that's who. I had good intentions for Pittsburgh. I was going to train all winter/spring and come out amazing. After fighting illness for two months, I just kept putting it off. Well, time catches up to you and it isn't forgiving.

Running without preparation is something a lot of us twenty-somethings do. We think, how hard can it be?!? The last time I didn't really train much and it didn't hurt THAT bad... I could tolerate it again. What we twenty-somethings fail to consider is all of the other variables that go into race day. For example: allergies, colds, hot days, etc. Last Thursday as I'm thinking of everything I need to pack for my race, I start to feel off. By Friday I have crazy sinus pressure, a little feverish, headache, and my allergies are going nuts. At this point I'm not going to forgo the race... heck no. I've already made a playlist, packed, and raised money for charity. Screw it. I'll just take it easy on the run. I've already made the excuse of not training. Everyone knows it. No one expects much out of me Sunday anyways. Let's just finish this.

Race Morning:

I wake up on my own after a restless night. It's 4:45am and my head is super uncomfortable but I won't take the Tylenol Sinus meds. Rule number one: Don't take anything weird on race day. I get dressed in my super orange Run to Stop MS outfit and carefully braid my hair. This is one ritual that brings focus to my race days. (Eating your hair with your gel packs isn't ideal and doesn't add to the nutritional value. It's just gross.) I'm as ready as I'm going to get. My fuelbelt and gear check bag were carefully packed the night before. Time to wake up Catie. This was easier than I had imagined. I wait the 15minutes it takes her to get ready and eat my morning breakfast of homemade rice krispie treats (Thanks Sally!). My favorite pre-race meal. Ohh.... and I have a few chugs of Pepsi while we wait for the city bus. Again, race ritual and before you go judging me... it works.

The lady at the hotel didn't give me the best directions after "this is where you find the bus". My sister,Catie, and I had no clue where we were supposed to get off or where to go after we exited the bus. Pittsburgh might as well be a foreign country. Fortunately for us, the bus was packed with racers. We play follow the leader down to race central. This is where things start to get a bit hairy. Due to the Boston event, security was really tight. You couldn't exit one area and regain entry. So, decide on your corral change before you get near the corral. They will not let you out. Gear check was also a hike away. That didn't bother me before the race. (After the race I did say " You've got to be kidding me." to one of the volunteers when she gave me directions to gear check. Sorry whoever you were.) Thirty minutes later I find the corral I've chosen. I was assigned "B" but due to my illness I decided to jump back to "C".

The website boasted that in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, we would be doing the Macarena before race start. Mr. DJ started the music before I even made it to my corral... and no one was responding to it. Huge disappointment. I was ready to relive my middle school days for three short minutes. I pictured ending the Macarena and starting my dance party playlist and getting into it before the gun went off... I guess this was the universe's way of telling me that the dance party marathon was not meant to be.

I found the 4:00 pace group in the back of the corral. So I parked myself next to the two gentlemen holding the signs. One had his name listed as "Kal-el". I looked him up and down and thought...no, this guy is not a superman. I asked him if that was his real name or if he just loved Superman. We all know the answer to that one. Big kid. After the lady crooned the national anthem (as slow as she could) and a moment of silence the race begun. My corral shifted forward and nine minutes after race start, I was able to jog along. I knew that 4:00 is around a 9:10ish pace so I kept trying to tell myself to reel it in. Keep it light. Next thing I knew we've made it one block and I've already lost the pace group. Crap. I feel slow and easy so I keep on, keeping on. My play list for the first few miles was pretty awesome. I was smiling and lip singing along over the first of many bridges and just excited. It felt like the city of Pittsburgh had wandered outside to say hello at 7am. That's one thing I like about these big races. You may have to try not to step on fellow runners for the first few miles, but the excitement from the crowd is contagious. You can't help but let it infect you. This is my real race fuel. You smile, I smile. You roar and I roar right back. All of this adds up to "let's do this". Heck, enough people and I feel like I could win this thing.

At the 10k mark I hit my first check in. 54:29, 8:47 pace. I'm a big fan of accountability. When I know people are watching, I can't let them down. My family, my friends, my roommates, random people who stalk me... all of this makes me want to give 'em something to look forward to. My roommates were near the University waiting for me around the 20k mark. I gave them a general time and knew I had to hit it... what I didn't take into consideration was that I ran faster than expected. I hit the half way point almost seven minutes faster than I told them. They could have been riding the elevator down when I blew past. Thank goodness for Starbucks down the street. They were already outside.

The dance party play list had been serving me well. By the half mark I was at 1:53:36, 8:40 pace and still feeling pretty awesome. The sun still wasn't beating me down and Pittsburgh does an excellent job providing fluid stations. Heck, even locals set up "mom and pops water stops". I wasn't that desperate but I appreciated the gesture.(Not a "drink the koolaid" type). I cheese for the camera as I run past my roommates and continue on course. Less than a mile later, the storm starts brewing.

I put a lot of stock in the power of the mind and music. Any activity that sucks (cleaning the bathroom, homework, etc) has always been improved by a great playlist. When I ran the Harrisburg Marathon, I credited Christina Aguilera's Fighter with getting me through six miles of that race. I don't think I could have climbed those hills without her. Unfortunately for Pittsburgh, my iPod died before mile 14. I look back and I'm not sure what happened. It plugged up just fine after the race and synced. It even said it was at full power. I think the running gods were testing me. They wanted to know if I had the meddle to medal. I had a second where I thought about chucking the stupid nano on the ground and leaving it but I didn't want to pay for a new one. Smart move.

Adam Goucher was quoted as having said "So many people, when they get out the door and they’re running, it’s when they do their best thinking, and it clears their mind of the stress and they just feel so much better." Adam and I apparently have a different style of running. When I run it's more primal. My brain shuts down and all higher functions go on hiatus. I can't tell you what happened between mile 14 and 19 but I remember the moment a really hot relay dude ran by at mile 19. (I can only comment on the back side, I never did catch a glimpse of the front and I'm still disappointed.) This guy had it going on. Great hair, really really great everything else, perfect proportions, tan... ohh and he wasn't slow (It's why I never saw the front. Sad sigh.) Dude had it going on. These primitive thoughts got me to mile 20.

At the check-in  at mile 20 I was still steadily hopping along. 2:55:05, 8:46 pace. 10k to go. No problem. Except I feel like I'm running on something sticky. My first thought was "how much Gatorade did people spill?!?" That's what happens when higher brain function shuts off. Stupid conclusions. What I didn't consider was that I had a blister that had burst. Super gross.

I used to love downhills. Then I met mile 23. Normally the thought of "just a 5k" would be elating. Not this time. Nothing hurt worse than the downhill pounding my poor feet took. I felt every step reverberating up my legs after each stinging footfall. That was one nasty mile; enough to hurt me, not enough to break me. Steady she goes.

At mile 24 things had leveled out but a more serious problem developed. Now for those of you married to doctors... maybe you shouldn't mention this but I started having pains in my chest area, left cavity. I had felt this pain before so I was pretty sure it was my lung and not my heart... I had been having a bit of chest tightness due to the illness so this development didn't surprise me. Scared the crap out of me... but I figured what the hell, there are so many medic check points the last two miles, I should be fine. I didn't realize that a 23year old guy had already died on the course a mile from the finish right outside a medic station. Thinking back on it, I'd like to say that I'd have slowed down, walked, maybe gotten check out before continuing... but I know I wouldn't. Even without my higher brain function being shut down, nothing meant more than finishing. Knowing that I was going to break 3:50 if I kept going... I would have kept going. Pain is temporary, pride is forever. Official finishing time: 3:49:37, 8:46 avg. When I finished, they draped the largest, heaviest medal around my neck. I thought I was going to choke from it. I wore it with pride back to the car.

One day I'll train for real and lay it all out. I'll do more than one 16 miler and call it good. If I do, beware. This girl is on fire.

I'ma trouble maker, bring on the Pittsburgh Marathon.

"Why does it feel so good but hurt so bad, oh oh oh,

My mind keeps saying, run as fast as you can

I say I'm done but thou, you pull me back, oh oh oh

I swear you're giving me a heart attack. Troublemaker!"

It's the evening before the Pittsburgh Marathon. My belly is full of Panera and Dave and Andy's Homemade Ice Cream. My playlist "Pittsburgh Marathon Bitches" has been prepared and features such gems as "Troublemaker", "Thrift Shop" and "Cyclone". I'm supposedly ready to dance party my way through the marathon tomorrow morning. Now, you're probably thinking "Geez girl, shouldn't you be taking this a bit more seriously? What about the importantly things like prepping your clothes, checking your race fuel stock, and pinning your bib?" I'll get to that eventually.... but the playlist was more important. Tomorrow I'm celebrating. I'll be running this particular race for a cause close to heart.

My best friend has MS. I think of how this disease changes your life and it can be a bit scary. As an individual who finds my happiness in pushing my body to its limits, the thought of no longer being in control is terrifying. I decided to run this marathon to raise money for the National MS Society. At first I was worried that I couldn't raise the minimum $500. If you make the commitment, you're responsible. So after signing up, I knew that there was a chance I'd be shelling out quite a bit. I never thought my friends and coworkers would rise to the occasion and blow all my expectations out of the water. As of right now, we've raised $1575. Congratulations everyone! As of right now, we are the number 2 marathon fundraiser. (Number one was an overachiever... we'd never catch her... unless someone wants to drop a couple g's in the pot... anyone?? okay.... yeah... number one is definitely an overachiever.) In case anyone does want to donate... the link above will take you there. To those of you who have donated. You're awesome. Truly, I am in awe of your generosity. Thank you. Alright. I've got to get ready to rock it. Dance party time. I mean... Marathon time.

Pizza dude's got 30 seconds...

Recently I've suffered a bout of sickness that's lasted much longer than my patience. The thing about being sick is, you can't change it. You can medicate and hope for the best but unfortunately, you have to wait it out. Being an asthmatic, I'm no stranger to bronchitis. For the past six weeks I've dealt with frequent asthma attacks and a cough that causes even the toughest ruffians to cringe and cower from what some have termed "the bubonic plague" (thanks JB). The problem is: I can't change my health.... or can I?

I may not be able to reverse asthma but one detrimental habit of mine is within my control. Some people smoke cigarettes, drink alcohol, or snort crack to feel good and cope with life. My feel good go-to is food. "Hi. My name is Heather and I'm addicted to comfort foods."  I know what you're thinking,  "Not uh. She is not comparing junk food to hard drugs and alcohol abuse." Well, yeah. I kind of am. Obesity is on the rise in America and the only thing saving me is my genetics. (Thanks Mom and Dad!) If normal people partook in my current diet, they'd probably be pushing 250lbs or more. Drinking regular soda for every meal and an occasional midday break pushes the limits of the normal metabolism. Some days I was drinking more than 600 calories just in soda. Add to it the half Digiorno Pizza I had for dinner or a full box of Mac and Cheese and I've passed a regular person's total daily calorie allowance. Don't ask about my breakfast, lunch, or those delicious candy corn stuffed Rice Krispie treats in the cafeteria. I've suffered from unhealthy habits and I want to change. I need to change. Step one: done. I've admitted my problem.

It's no wonder that junk food has taken a front row to my daily life. As a kid, my idols were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. They didn't get their super cool ninja skills from radioactive material alone. No. They ate pizza and lots of it. I wanted those sweet ninja skills. Unfortunately the pizza didn't get me there and neither did the Pepsi I washed it down with. Pepsi's my other killer. Every glass has always brought me a piece of home and the memories that came with it. From childhood I've gotten off on the wrong foot, at 27 its time for a change. Step two: Get off my ass and do something about it.

Recently I've signed up for group nutrition classes. What I should have started with was cooking classes.... but I'll get the idea of it one day. Every week Dr. Bentson (http://kristenbentson.com) gives out the meal plans and grocery list. I've just started week two and I've already had a break down. Admittedly, week one wasn't going awesome. I had way too much 1% chocolate milk than I should have and I didn't make the best dinner choices. I kept my total calorie intake reasonable but I was already losing sight of why I signed up in the first place. Anyone who knows me, knows that I can't cook anything beyond Kraft Mac and Cheese. (Before you judge, know that it is a deliciously fantastic mean box of Mac.) I panicked a little. I won't lie. The past 24 hours I've had a mini melt down and eaten a lot of things I regret. So what caused this chink in my nutritional change chain? She gives you a list of foods you should be eating every meal but not a recipe to go with it. (I may write that in as a future suggestion if she asks for class evaluations.) She makes the assumption that you know how to cook meat and normal meals. She mustn't have met someone like me before. I got overwhelmed and may have freaked out. You know until this week, I had never even been down the organic foods section of the grocery store.

My next approach to surviving this class is to do an intense planning session tomorrow before grocery shopping. Step three: look up recipes for the ingredients I'm supposed to use and establish two breakfast meals, two lunches, and two dinners to alternate throughout the week. Perfect those six meals. Repeat with a different set of recipes next week. Don't get me wrong, most of the past ten days I've eaten three serving of fruits per day and tried a few new foods like flax waffles. I'm breaking out of the mold. Its just not going as fast as originally planned. Life is on a learning curve and I'm slow on the uptake when it comes to nutritional health. I may not be a Ninja Turtle, but in eating right I'm a tortoise. Eventually I'll catch up to the hare and be a healthy happy runner. Eventually. Anyone want to cook for me?? No... okay. Deep breath. I can do this. I'll be my own "hero in a half shell. " (Turtle power.)

Step One: Quasimodo Robot

Yesterday I completed the Harrisburg Marathon. Two weeks ago I attempted 16miles to make sure I could at least make it that far. That day I came home to find my roommate in the shower so I snuggled my puppy on the floor... and immediately passed out. Later in the day I needed yet another nap. When I thought about my prospects of finishing a marathon with such little preparation... well, lets just say that optimistically I thought I could run 20 and walk the rest if necessary. Pessimistically, I thought that I was definitely in over my head. I've gained around 15lbs this year and lost most of the conditioning I'd put in last year and during the late winter months. Some days 8miles feels like work. I never thought I'd hit (what often feels like) running rock bottom.

I spent every day last week stressed to the max. I nervously downed sodas, then "erased" them with several waters trying to keep myself hydrated. I thought of every possible strategy to make it a little further than my original projection. I told myself that no matter what, I'd be happy to finish. Internally, I was really upset that my first marathon wouldn't be a good debut. Struggling to gut out 26.2miles instead of speeding through was a far cry from the glory I was looking for. That being said, I made the commitment to run it and it was my fault alone that I wasn't prepared. (To really understand what I put myself through, I'll update my dailymile.com account to reflect every run between August and October. Get ready to feel my marathon day pain.) I also spent some time reading first time marathon faux pas in preparation of last Sunday's race. This was followed by more stress. I read a "bathroom disaster" version of things to and not to do. I decided that this list was one to dog ear.

I woke up at 4:30am on race day. I picked up the bag I packed the night before and did a double check. Watch (check), calf sleeves (check), compression socks for after (check), fuel belt loaded (check), running shoes (check), iPod (check... wait did I charge that?!? double checked). I got dressed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and braided my hair. I was as ready as I could get. I grabbed a Pepsi, Gatorade Prime, three Rice Krispie treats, and two bottles of water. Off I went. I stopped at my wingman's place to pick him up. He's a seasoned vet and knew what the aftermath of Hurricane Heather could produce. I'm glad he put the forethought into the after because the before was all consuming for me. On the drive to Harrisburg, I nervously drank half of my Pepsi, ate the Rice Krispie treats, and drank the full bottle of water. One of the noobie mistakes I read about was drinking too much water before the race. We arrived almost two hours before the race. I had plenty of time. I check in, pin my bib, and walk back to my car to change out of my Uggs and into my running shoes. Things are starting to get real. My stress is climbing... I put in the Jackie Evancho cd. My wingman sits patiently through the 11-ish year old classically trained singer serenading us. Dude deserves a medal.... but I'm not giving him mine.

With 20 minutes or so until race time, we head to the starting line. My gadgets are in place, I'm stretching out, I listen to the pacer talking... I'm staying calm. I was waiting for the race director to start talking, welcoming us and maybe saying a prayer... instead a bull horn goes off. Crap, the race has started and I'm still wearing my hoodie. I tossed it at my wingman and took off with dirty talk Dave, my pacer. I wasn't sure what I could run having not actually put in the training. I decided to give the 4:10 pacer a shot. He told inappropriate joke after joke. It was a great way to start a race. He kept me slow and from going out too fast. (My body thinks its still fast and doesn't realize we have work to do.)

At mile six a guy sprinted to where he thought he was being hidden and dropped trou to go number 2. So glad I read the NOT-TO-DO list. Thank God. I'd hate to be that guy...

By mile 12 however, I was having trouble holding myself in. I was like a horse chomping on the bit begging for free reign. I pulled slightly ahead on a hill and just went with it. I knew to keep myself contained. I didn't want dirty Dave to have to spatula me off the pavement a mile up the road. I knew my parents and brother Nick would be around mile 15-16. I kept that in mind. The moment I saw my dad waiting for me on the edge of HACC's campus, I started getting a little emotional... unfortunately that usually means crying and hyperventilating... so after mentally yelling "PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!" I said hi to my dad, told him I loved him and kept running. Mom and Nick were up next cheering me on and taking photos. It meant a lot for them to be there for me. I saw them a few more times over the course of that two mile stretch.

At mile 18, I began traversing gravel terrain on my way to Wildwood park. At this part it occurred to me that I've never made it this far in my life. Uncharted territory. I've heard many disaster tales of how much your body starts to hate you. I did a body check... I seemed okay. Keep running. I turned my first corner in the park and met one of the steep short hills... and saw tons of people who had started walking. I hate hills... but after running 18 miles, I wasn't going to let a little thing like that slow me down. So I did what any rational person would do... I charged. After cresting the hill and doing my mental endzone dance, I look ahead to the next segment of paved trail... Ohh crap... Here comes another short steep hill. Ohh hell no. If the first one didn't get me, the next one wasn't either. (What I failed to mention, was that from mile 17-20 I listened to Christina Aguilera "Fighter" on repeat... manual repeat because the stupid Nano and I don't understand each other.) Between miles 18-21 I passed many people walking up the hills... I ran every single one and didn't slow down and fade out. Booyah.

I got worried that my wingman would make it to the water stop around mile 22 to see what my "breakdown" looks like. He was eager to bask in my misery while I wallowed in pain. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. It also occurred to me that I had less than a 10k to go. I could finish that. It was steadily approaching Noon. People were slowing down and run/walking everywhere. It made me feel super fast as I blew by them (at my steady pace). The sun was starting to beat down overhead and towards mile 24 I began to feel it. My parents and brother drove by and I hear whoops coming from the car. I laugh and push on. By mile 25 I see the bridge. The key to my salvation is at the end of that bridge. I looked upon it from the river path like it was the gate to Heaven. Once I climbed the ramp up to begin my trek (kick??) across, I don't even notice my family cheering me on. I've got tunnel vision and I'm running towards the light. I did a double check and made sure I wouldn't have a finisher pic with a kid running beside me or a jogging stroller... Eww.. guy with hot pink shirt... need to pass him. I high-fived my wingman and two little boys in the last .2mi. I felt like a champion. Not because I finished fast, but because I kept my promises and finished. 4:00:44.45 with six weeks of "training" and 1x16mi run.

This morning I woke up and stretched out... ooohhh... things feel weird. Not terrible but weird. Granted, I was laying down and no weight was on my feet. I could make it through the day. No problem. I'd show my wingman that I'm one tough cookie. Then I put my feet on the floor and tried to stand up... by attempt three I was on my feet. I pulled my socks off in the middle of the night and left them on the floor beside my nightstand. I reached to pick them up and couldn't make it. I considered leaving them but knew it would drive me crazy later. My heels weren't bending so I lowered myself <cough, cough> daintily to the floor. I scooped up the socks and gracefully <cringes> rocked myself back to a some-what standing position. I consider a shower and threw that idea out the door. Getting in the tub was not happening. (I showered 12 hrs before, stop judging me). The walk into work could only be described as a Quasimodo-Robot. I was hobbling on unsteady knees. I knew that I'd be heckled but I didn't care. I'd earned my Quasimodo-Robot walk.

I've laid out my training plan for my next marathon. When I approach the starting line in DC, I'll have put the work in. It'll be my speedy run that I was hoping for. With any luck I'll BQ and feel like a mixture of Rocky and Shalane Flanagan. If I work the next one as hard as I worked this one and put the time in training, I'll welcome the Quasimodo-Robot. It'll be well earned. Bring it DC.

Taking a Stand Against the Slump

It's easy to fall into a slump; one day off can turn into two. Oh its raining?!? I'll skip today. Hurricane?That means a week off right?!? I was a victim to the Hurricane slump this week, taking three days off... in a row. Being weak willed at the moment, I feel the only way to win the battle of the slump is to simply never stop. Through the month of November, I vow to do something every single day. If I need to take a day off of running, I'll cross train, take a class, or lift. I'll make an appearance in the gym no matter what. I'm making this commitment to focus on training, to be the best I can be. Next year I want to find my fast. The only way to get there is to work for it. Sweat, every damn day. Let's do it.

Finding My "Greatness"

The new Nike campaign has challenged everyone to find their "greatness".  There was a point in my life where I believed that "greatness" was an elite concept where some people had it and some never would. To me greatness wasn't a choice. Greatness was an Olympian, race winners, endurance athletes; something you were genetically prone to. Average joe's certainly didn't make the cut. I never thought to myself, "You could be great." What I should have been thinking is "why not??".
My skewed view of "greatness" was probably a direct result of low high school/college self esteem. I was always average and middle of the pack, not being able to race well to save my life. After college I started running. Not training, running. I'd run for fun around town, losing myself in rhythmic footsteps and music. I began challenging myself to go an extra mile or take a hillier route. I rekindled my love of the sheer freedom you feel when losing yourself; its only by losing myself that I found my "greatness".
"Greatness"can't be quantified or defined. Its ever changing with loose limits and barriers that are meant to be overcome. My "greatness"will start with my current project and then explode! My passion for running will ignite my current limits and fuel my ambitions. I never thought I'd hit a slump so bad that I'd stop running for months. Now that I'm getting back on track, I never want to stop. Quitting isn't an option.
In the spring I signed up for a marathon. I told myself that I'd train to run a Boston qualifying time. Shortly after an injury, I became ill and thats when the wheels fell off and emotional wall caused my running to halt. I haven't ran more than 14miles consecutively all year. In the past six months, 13.5mi is the most I've gone out in a single shot. This is far from the "greatness" I had in mind this past spring but "greatness" changes. I've decided that my current "greatness" will be upholding promises. I signed up for the Harrisburg Marathon on November 11. Thats two weekends from now. I've been running for four weeks. Some of you are probably thinking, "Whoa! Don't be a retard and run something you haven't even remotely trained for." but I have to. I owe it to myself. Tomorrow I'm aiming for my first 16mi run this year. Next week I'll aim for a repeat and come November 11, I'll aim to finish. Yes, this is a faint version of my original goal but lets face it, there is no way I can hold a quick pace for a marathon right now. Quitting isn't the "greatness" legacy I want to leave behind.
Right now, I'm working on getting back into running shape. Right now my "greatness" is accomplishing this small feat. Later, my "greatness"will be running DC for a BQ. Greatness isn't failure, its the courage to keep trying. Bring it "greatness", I'm not longer afraid of you.

Update: I went out for an easy 16 with my wingman, Mr. 140.6, this morning. My projected finishing time in H-burg will be an embarrassing 4:30-4:40. With little preparation, its probably the best I can do. Step 1: Finish it. Step 2: Train Strong. Step 3: Run fast in DC!!! woot woot

My friday run with Shalane...

At 8am or so this morning I was going about my usual workday business, eating breakfast with the team and preparing for the meeting. I didn't know that today would be one for the books.

I was waiting for the meeting to start this morning with caffeine coursing through my veins and cereal warming my belly, seemingly content to make it through my Friday. I pull out my smart phone to pass the time and check the Friday status updates on Facebook. As I scrolled through the "TGIF"'s, I saw Shalane Flanagan's status update inviting anyone and everyone to join in on the afternoon run with Runner's World editors and staff... today... at 3pm. At this point I'm looking outside, seeing the rain and the lack of sunshine and I'm thinking... "That sounds pretty neat... if only there was sunshine..."After the usual safety hubbub, I get to thinking.... its raining now, but what about later? So I check the weather. Huh, sunshine around three pm. Cool. Now the juices are flowing. I look at "Mr. 140.6" sitting next to me and casually mention that we could be running with Shalane Flanagan this afternoon and not working. Just saying... time for meeting two.

After the second safety meeting I decide that its only the normal thing to do; take off work, burn half a vacation day and run with an Olympian. Typical Friday. No big deal. So I emailed my boss and told him that I needed to take a half day to go run with an Olympian. "Mr. 140.6" was easily persuaded to be my wingman. Things were falling into place. I go back to my apartment to put on matching Nike running clothes (you know, since she's sponsored by Nike), pull out my fly-est running kicks, and braid my hair. Can't look like a chump when you're running with Shalane... right?!? The only normal thing to do at this point is pull out my Nike running sunglasses and paste a smile on my face. These glasses my eclipse the twinkle in my eye but hey... Nike. At this point I'm ready to do this... now all I have to do is wait for my ride, an hour from now. I sit down on the couch; shoes laced up, water bottle in hand, staring at the clock. I get up, I sit down, I go check on random things... I walk my dog. Okay... time to go.

Like most people, I didn't want to be the first person to descend upon a celebrity. I just wanted to play it cool. To achieve this, I let "Mr. 140.6" ask her for a photo and I stepped into it. (See below) I said my thank you's and moved on. Shew, that was close. Didn't want to blow that one. Goal one of the day was now accomplished. On to goal two: Beat Shalane in a run.

Today's run was just a shake out run, an easy go before the weekend running festival races. (If you're bored and in the area: http://rw.runnersworld.com/rwhalf/). The initial pace was a daunting 10:30 shuffle at best. Shalane was ahead. Crap, already failing. They urged us to keep it slow. Today we aren't heroes. We're runners just stretching our legs before we take on the field this weekend. Stealth will be required for goal 2. Casually, I open my stride and eat up the distance between us. At this point, its the world championships and I'm passing on the right. She still doesn't know what's going on but I'm ahead and I maintained it, champion.

I don't drown everything out while accomplishing this goal, no I eaves drop. Taking notes from the best. Shalane mentioned to someone (unknown, I was ahead and couldn't see behind me) that she runs her base pace around 6:50 or so. If you run, you know that base pace isn't race pace... This tiny woman runs her marathon at about a 5:33min/mi pace. Just for a state of reference: my fastest 5k was ran at 6:36min/mi pace. This woman can run 23.1mi further and much faster than my 3.1mi race pace. If that doesn't blow you away, she's only 5'5" (probably on her tiptoes) and weighs just over 100lbs soaking wet. Where does the power come from?!? I have no idea. But its aw inspiring.

I think next week I'll go out and try to find my inner Shalane. Go out and find my fast. Bring it, today I beat Shalane. Maybe tomorrow, I'll aim to beat you and maybe I'm talking to you, Mr. 140.6. Keep Calm and Run On.