February 19, 2012

Age: 28
Occupation: Key Leader at lululemon athletica
Residence: Chicago, IL
Time since last race: 3 months, 14 days
Conditions: 55 clouds/sun light breeze rolling hills throughout
Official time: 03:55:30
_______________________________________________ 

199-something. Columbus, OH. St. Agatha 6th Grade Volleyball Team. There are too many girls who want to play so our teams are divided into A and B. Placements determined by tryouts and I’m stuck on the B team once again. This always happens. Volleyball, basketball, softball, whatever. “Be the best you can, Gige. Show up and practice and give 100% no matter what team you’re on,” advised my dad. This particular morning is special. We’ve had a great season and we’re playing for the championship today. In typical fashion, mom braids my hair – two identical french braids pulled so tightly I have a headache and hair sprayed so thickly I have become a walking fire hazard. My bright yellow jersey is tucked into red mesh shorts and giant red knee pads look funny on my long skinny legs. The game begins and I am on the bench. Eager, anxious, excited and proud I watch as my team nails serve after serve. Stringing together successful bumps, sets and a few spike attempts. We win the first of three sets and it’s on to the second. I’m on the bench waiting for my turn. Second set: lost. Third set begins. I’m still on the bench. Waiting. I can feel the energy, I’m on the edge of my seat! I want to play so badly, every muscle in my body is tense. Waiting. All I want is a chance but I keep reminding myself to keep my act together, it’s not over yet. Until it is. We win and the team runs from the bench congratulating the six players on the court. I remain on the bench with the sinking realization that I am the only player on the team who didn’t get a chance to play. Didn’t get to contribute, didn’t get to do my part. The team won, but I most certainly had lost.

Here’s your visual of this kid.

As a teen and in my early twenties I battled with the “I’m not good enough/no one likes me” interpretation of many situations. In sports, at school, in social circles, I always seemed to come up just short of what I thought was cool or acceptable. Stop before you feel bad for me though, because what came of this is a girl who built a foundation on hard work, motivation and acceptance. That day, a coach made me sit on the sideline and clearly I hated it. I know my 12-year old self wasn’t capable of thinking this at the time, but it’s honestly the last moment in my life that I remember sitting on the sideline of anything in which I wanted to participate.

Uncle Vince told me he once said to a friend, “my girl Gina, if she dies tomorrow I won’t be sad. I’ll be happy because I am sure that that girl lived her life.”

Probably one of the best compliments of all time.

The very best way I have found to participate in my life? Set goals and achieve them. I am currently finding this to be a very fun activity! A recap on some of my running goals:

1. Qualifying for Boston – check!
2. Running Boston – check!
3. Running a marathon in 3:30 – check!
4. Running a marathon in all 50 states and Washington DC – in progress…

The more difficult stuff for me comes in the shape of scary words like “career” and “personal” goals, both of which I spend a lot of time reflecting upon. I left my job in the corporate world about a year ago and I will be perfectly honest and tell you that it has been a struggle. I gave up a bit of freedom when I left and have been chipping away at getting that back ever since. Spending the last year figuring out my place in my new world and where I fit in has been difficult and I won’t yet qualify it as worth it, but I can absolutely see the light towards which I am headed.  The days in which I love going to work far, far exceed the days in which I don’t love it.

When I was in Austin, I met a few people who became instant friends. I think they became instant friends because we were all in our element, choosing to be where we were when we were there for no reason other than we simply love running. I have also found myself for lack of better words without a true mentor in this running world. And now I think I have two. Mike, a veteran of 249 marathons (yes you read that right) shared wisdom with me that I will never forget, “don’t ever give up on doing what you love. Trust that it will happen for you just as you imagine it to be.” What a cool guy, right? And of course there was Bart Yasso. A man whose success I am just inspired by. A man who simply and quite literally lives his passions every day and gets paid to do just that. I have found myself over the last year putting myself under his wing. Learning, watching, taking notes. To have spent time with both of these men in Austin, well they just solidified my resolve to stay put in this world and keep climbing for what I want to get out of it. Goals on goals on goals.

Mike and Bart, pre-shakeout run.
*Mike, I stole this from your twitter but I figure since I took the picture, that’s okay

In an effort to keep these goals in motion, some of them get lumped together. My girlfriends and I, always on the lookout for our next great adventure, had committed to taking a trip to Argentina together. My dates were wide open except for the Austin Marathon weekend of February 17-19 so we planned the trip around that. I spent ten glorious days in South America drinking wine, riding bikes and eating empanadas only to fly straight to Texas to have a day to recover and run a marathon. All I have to say is thank you, world, for the existence of Whole Foods, lululemon and yoga, without which I might never have been able to piece myself back together in time for 26.2 hilly Austin miles.

Argentine Empanadas. Beyond amazing.

Valentine’s Day wine tasting and biking in Mendoza:

Lunch at the winery:

Doing real work:

Friends.

Training for Austin? It was fine, nothing spectacular except I fell in love with running again – being outside in this year’s mild Chicago winter is, for whatever reason, the most wonderful of experiences for me. Plus I’m still kind of celebrating my 3:30:53 PR from back in November.

Here’s what my maintenance program of training looked like:

Monday – easy run 7 miles or so
Tuesday – cross train
Wednesday – 6-7 miles, lots of hill repeats on the treadmill
Thursday – 7 miles, maybe some tempo pick ups
Friday – off
Saturday – long run, no more than 16 miles

I loosely followed a Runner’s World plan and made up my weeks as I went along. I don’t love doing this but I know that my mind and body need the rest from the vigor of a true 16-week marathon training program. Throughout training and upon arrival in Austin I had a goal of running the race between 3:50 and 4-hours. However, I had a really hard time getting excited about running. I am not sure if it’s that I had just come off of a wonderful time visiting a new place, or if I felt ill-prepared or what, I just was not really in the mood!

Race morning gave us a beautiful sunrise and I ran from the hotel to the start with my new friends Mike and Alicia. Not three miles into the race one of my training buddies from Chicago jogs right up next to me. “Hi G!!!” My cranky disposition was immediately reversed when I realized that Soraya and I could run together until the half marathon split from the marathon just past mile 10. We had a great time chatting, catching up and daydreaming about summer in Chicago and our training plans for 2012.

Beautiful Austin morning:

source.

Hi, little Soraya! You brightened my whole day:

My mom came to Austin with me, resuming her role as Best Cheerleader on Bike Ever and I spotted her smiling face and giant helmet just past the 13.1 mark. Upon greeting her with a kiss, she stayed right next to me for the entire rest of the race.  Not two minutes after the kiss, I feel a tap on my arm. “What pace are you running?” ”I’m at about a 9 minute mile,” I reply. “Do you mind if I run with you for a little while? I’m just a few minutes off on my goal time of making it in under four hours.” “Well sure, why not.”

And that’s how I met Jim Kelly.

Jim is 57. He ran his first marathon at age 50. Had his first son at age 51. If I played my cards right, I would bet that Jim had overcome a lot of adversity in his life to get to where he his now, accomplishing goals of not only finishing marathons but getting faster, too. Jim planned to run with me for only a few miles but we ended up staying side by side for that back half our 26.2 mile journey. The coach in me came out as I strategized our upcoming miles so that he could achieve his goal of running a sub-4 hour marathon. He felt good and I knew he could do it so I pushed the pace a little bit. When he asked what pace we were running, I would sometimes calmly reply, “9 minutes on the dot, Jim!” But really, we were holding steady around 8:45/mile. The race no longer became about my goal because the universe gave me the honor of making sure that Jim achieved his and that was a really cool gift.  In the end, we both got our wishes because he crossed the finish line at 3:57 and I crossed at 3:55. Goals on goals on goals.

Running with Jim Kelly:

Sweet 16 in the books!

Signs like this seriously never get old:

Bart and Me:

Mom and Me celebrating at La Condesa:

Speaking of mom. She read this quote and thought me.  How fitting: “We don’t receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.” -Marcel Proust

2012 has exciting things in store and I am already knee deep in the happiness of it. Biggest news of all, my little sister is getting married on 12/31/2012 and she asked me to be the maid of honor! You better believe I’ve started writing the speech now. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. To tie this all together for you, remember when I crashed my bike? That’s the day she met her now fiancé… taking one for Team DiCello.

I hope that soon I will be able to share with you the results of my transformation but right now I’m still working, thinking, getting off the bench and participating in my life. Finding strength in both successes and failures and navigating the world in which I want to be a powerful, authentic person so that others are inspired to get out there and play, too.

MVP of my life? Me.

My head’s all a jumble.  I don’t even know where to begin today.  These entries, these memories, usually have several months worth of drafts and notes and quotes before I compile them into something that hopefully does justice to the events and people that have influenced my life. This time it’s no different but I have no idea where to begin, there is so much. Do I talk about life after running Boston?  How I left my job for an hourly part time gig to follow my passion?  How I had three jobs this summer?  How I didn’t get my hair cut for six months because I couldn’t afford it? How I managed to get into three accidents involving bikes, cabs, or a combination of the two? How about getting my heart broken, and maybe hurting one or two others in the process? That was fun. Or the fact that I didn’t exercise my right to say ‘no’ only to find myself way over-committed this summer, and very bitter about it.

Hard-learned lessons about life, love and the pursuit of happiness seem to have been my reoccurring theme of 2011.

This year I tested limits, I pushed boundaries, I swam way, way out of my comfort zone.  And for what?  My insatiable hunger for passion, that’s what.  I saw a quote that said, “the pursuit of happiness is the source of all unhappiness.”  Is it?  Aren’t we all responsible for our own happiness? No one else is going to take care of this for me, right?

And I know you’re sick of it.  You’re sick of me whining about having my heart broken. Trust me, I’m sick of it too. Despite all the sadness, the crappy dates, the guys who sent flowers and never called back, I learned a lot and faced a nasty fear: my voice.

To say that I am a passionate person, well that would be the understatement of the year.  I know that people know this about me, but I clearly wasn’t ready to admit it, for better or for worse, until now.  I seem to be either all in or all out, no in between. 100% or nothing. Take it or leave it but I think it’s what makes me sparkle.

Life.

In March, right before Boston, I resigned from my job as an Account Executive at a successful restaurant marketing company.  Months prior, I began to feel restless and unsatisfied.  I’ve felt this feeling before.  I hate this feeling.  It happens when I am no longer passionate about the responsibilities assigned to me.  When I am no longer enrolled in the mission of my duties.  I wrestled with myself, trying to rationalize everything – the paycheck, the flexibility, the hours, the vacation, the insurance.  I still woke up with anxiety in my chest and an uncomfortable sluggishness about my demeanor. Leaving my job wasn’t a wake-up-one-day-and-realize-my-path kind of revelation. More of a slow evolvement from doing something just for the sake of doing it, to doing something I love.

My happy place:

In late 2010, I knew this change was coming. I got certified to teach group fitness, I got my USA Track and Field coaching certificate and I went through a Schwinn cycling certification. I slowly tested the waters to see if this area was a world I wanted to live in. Turns out it was and from the beginning of April through the end of October I coached runners for various half marathons and marathons with my team, njoy racing. (Take note, job #1).

Another world I wanted to explore further was that of lululemon athletica. As an ambassador, I was very much ready to take my passion for the company and its culture to the next level. A trip in April to Vancouver and Whistler had me surrounded by lululemon’s founders and leaders who only inspired my curiosity even more. After some authentic conversations with as many people as I could get to, it was decided that in order to hold my own leadership position, I needed to know how the company works from the ground up.  This was a big moment to check my ego at the door and to be honest, I didn’t know if I could do that.  80% pay cut? Working set hours, working weekends, working nights? I knew if I didn’t try, I would always wonder and to me, there few feelings worse than that. I also knew that I belong in this world so I took a leap of faith and went for it. (Job #2).

In June, I was approached by my new pals at Runner’s World. (<–I totally geeked out just writing that). It’s a funny thing, the community that arises when you’re passionate enough to talk about something freely… online… with strangers. Weird. I love running. I love cooking. I love my blog. I love a lot of things and I really love to talk about what I love. So I use Twitter. After several Twitter and email dialogues with Bart Yasso that were inspired by these tweets…

…I was invited to join the coaching team of the Foot Locker/Runner’s World 10K training program here in Chicago. I mean come on, HOW COOL IS THAT? (Job #3).

The coaches:

Absolutely none of this was easy. Checking my ego was the hardest. In August when I was miserable at lululemon about not feeling related to my team and grumpy about the fact that I hadn’t been moved into a leadership position, a mentor said to me, “don’t forget, you chose to be here. Help everyone else see why you chose that.” In addition to my team, the person I needed to make see this the most was myself, so I started to work on becoming the kind of leader I want to be: inspirational, vulnerable, available and strong.

And then Steve Jobs passed away and quotes like this began to surface:

“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.”

The most amazing thing about reading this is that for the time being, I’ve found it. I believe that not only am I doing great work now, but the potential for great work in the future is completely limitless. I am beyond excited to be open to wherever jobs one, two or three take me in the next few years.

Love.

I’ll just be flat out honest – more tough stuff this year in this department. At the end of the day, I really I just want to love and be loved so sometimes my want for that clouds my judgement when it comes to who I should and shouldn’t allow into my life.

He told the truth and I was the liar.

He said, “I can’t do it,” but I wouldn’t believe.

He said, “I can give you support and friendship.  That’s it.”  I didn’t believe.

He wasn’t faithful because he never had to be.  I didn’t care.  I came back for more.

He never took me on a date, not once.  In 20 months.  I came back for more.

He swaddled me in red flags and I ignored them.  Waved them away like feathers.

I refused to believe that someone could decide not to be with me. What about what I wanted?  I came back for more.

I came back for more until my heart couldn’t stand the pressure and my own body began physically rejecting my stubbornness.

He told the truth and I was the liar. It wasn’t his fault at all.

I’m shooting arrows right now, big sharp ones. He hates that. But this time, they’re pointed at me.  For not seeing clearly, for not being more present, for not being more real with myself, for everything. Why can’t I just accept what he is capable of giving?  ”Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Well, this time I think I need it.

Was this karma’s vengeance for the hurt I caused previous lovers?  If they felt even a glimmer of what I felt this year then wow, do I have the ability to be insensitive. The funny thing is though, at the beginning I knew. I knew from very early on when we lay side by side and shared tales of heartbreak that this would happen to me.  ”I’m a heartbreaker.”  ”No, I’M a heartbreaker.”  I knew it was painful but I didn’t know it was this painful. Then, some time in June, in a last-ditch effort to save my sanity and a simple realization that I really don’t want to live my life on the path I was choosing, I began my resumption. I told every one of my close friends my dirty little secret: addiction to hope for a love that would never be.

But let’s be honest, I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Rehab. In an emotional dump of my heart and soul, I did a lot of yoga. I threw myself into three demanding jobs and relied on my friends when nostalgia crept in. I made room in my heart for kindness and met someone wonderful who brought a lot of it into my world. I also learned that not only do I need passion in work, but I need passion in my relationships and I need to be with someone who is passionate about something…anything (especially me!)  And girls, he’s just not that into you if you’ve been dating for three months and after three days of radio silence he tells you that he’s been spending hours and hours on the phone with his ex “reassessing where they are with everything.” #awesome. Damn good thing I had a marathon coming up to stomp out all the anger of how that whole thing went down.

And yet, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness for the things that these two people have taught me.  How in their own ways, they inspired me to keep going no matter what. How they unknowingly forced me, kicking and screaming, to love myself and figure it out on my own. How one in particular believes in me so much it’s almost a tangible feeling that I can actually hold. How they validate my conviction that if I wear my heart on my sleeve, I take risks and I jump off the preverbial cliff, that I always, eventually, on my own path, reach…

Happiness.

Advice and wisdom on this cycle of training, post-Boston:

On coaching: “your training will suffer because you’ll be so tired.”
On balancing 3 jobs: “you might have to be not so ambitious with your running for a while.”
On injuries (specifically my neuroma): “you work too hard, you should rest.”

No. No. Only until I am healthy, then no.

The result? I ran 26.2 miles in 3 hours 30 minutes and 53 seconds which is my fastest marathon by 8 minutes.

It seemed this year, that the more obstacles presented to me, the more I latched on to my training plan and the faster I ran.  I didn’t make a lot of changes but I stuck with consistency on a couple of things:

1. Running outside: 99% of my Boston training was on the treadmill because I was too much of a wimp to face the Chicago winter. I also enjoyed training for that race alone; it was super meditative. Running outside is much more difficult and I knew it would make me a stronger marathoner. The month of July was hot and humid and I almost puked after every run, but those are the runs that build champions, the runs that make me feel like a superhero in the cool fall air at mile 23.

2. I committed to my track workouts: I have a love/hate relationship with the track because it reminds me of the pressures of my days as an 800 meter runner in high school. This summer I got over it and committed to my track workouts outside, on the track. I was definitely rewarded. My Yasso 800′s were like 3:10!

3. Each week consisted of speed work, tempo run, steady state, long run –> not anything different from how I trained before. The one small difference, however, my longest runs were very long collectively – 22, 22, and 18 miles.

4. Yoga, yoga and more yoga. Couldn’t/can’t get enough of it. The breathing techniques, the challenging postures, the stretching, balancing and twisting – it all makes running feel ten times better, even on the off days.

Team njoy racing at the 2011 Ragnar Relay Chicago:

After a really successful taper, I arrived in Savannah feeling fast, strong and energized. Prior to leaving town, a lot of friends asked me both how I felt and how fast I thought I would run. I felt amazing, better than I had since last year before Salt Lake City. My predicted finish time? I didn’t share it with anyone, I kept it a secret. I hadn’t raced since April, not even a 5K, so I had no idea where I was as far as performance. All I knew is that I felt good and I was ready to race.

One of my favorite parts about this 50 States thing is weaving in the chance to have fun and connect with friends. Earlier this summer my training partner Dave and I decided to make a little adventure out of going to Savannah. We rented a cute beach house on nearby Tybee Island and convinced three of our fellow running comrades to join us. We cooked, we giggled, we drank beer, we talked about life and we ran. It fills my heart with so much joy and gratitude to think about the friendships and bonds that were created from this trip. The whole experience makes me smile.

Arriving in Savannah, decorated Chevy Tahoe and all:

Our happy little family:

Mom! We’re ready for dinner!

For me, race day is just as good as Christmas morning and this one was no different. At 4:40 am, I hopped out of bed without the need for an alarm clock and popped my iPod into the speakers. With the volume cranked all the way up, I blasted the wake up call: Buckcherry’s “Crazy Bitch.” We all went through our pre-race rituals (Mine: giant coffee, giant Gatorade G2, handful of almonds) and headed for the corrals. I felt loose, alert, awake and solid. Very much the opposite of how I felt just before kickoff in Boston.

Look! They’re glad we’re here:

Porta potty success! The race can finally begin:

Go time. Dave and I committed to running this race together and as any experienced marathoner should do, we took the first few miles easy and they both ticked in at 8:10 on the dot. Those were my slowest two miles of the entire race. Around mile 6, the 3:30 pace group started to surround us. At first I thought, “it’s okay, let them go ahead.” And then I thought, “@$*%, you didn’t work this hard to let the 3:30′s pass you by. GO!” I popped in my headphones and didn’t let them out of my sight the rest of the race.

The pace we were keeping wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t hard either. At the 13.1 mark, I did a fancy little jump over the ticker to celebrate being halfway done. I remember noticing that until mile 15, everything seemed to fly by. I take a Hammer gel every five miles so my first three gels were gone like that. I tried to take in my surroundings and notice the beauty of Savannah’s Spanish moss and lush landscape but I had a hard time doing that and focusing on my running, so I just kept on running.

At mile 18, we were still with the 3:30 pace group. I seriously could not believe it. A lot of self doubt had been creeping in that morning and I had to mentally give myself several pep talks. I heard my mom’s voice so many times in my head, she could have practically been running next to me. “Go, Gigi, go!” Her sweet voice pushing me along, helping me believe. At mile 24, the true challenge presented itself: a steady incline up the on ramp of a freeway, into the headwind, headed back into town. I had tears slowly trickling down my face and the sensation of if I stopped running, that I would puke all over the road. My pace remained steady and I continued on.

I would say I’d never been so happy to see a finish line, but who am I kidding, I’m always happy to see the finish line. I looked down at my watch and saw 3:30:53 and was in shock. I looked at Dave in total disbelief and then smiled a huge smile. Holy f**k I just PR’ed by 8 minutes!! Hell.yes.

After this whole weird transitional year, despite obstacles to which many might have said, “it’s okay if you don’t want to keep going,” I did it. I think I’ll do another little celebration dance right now!

Bringing home the 3:30:

Med tent, calves seized up like woah:

Lizzie B, Dave, Victor and me after rocking our performances:

The girls:

So here I sit with this whole entire year almost behind me and I can tell you with glowing conviction that I am happy. Yes, there are still challenges to face and things to work on but I’m finally finding my place in this world. I may be biased, but I’ve got the best friends known to man, a supportive family and a community in Chicago, all who hold me accountable for living my best life.

And it’s in my pursuit of passion that I have found and will continue to find life, love and happiness so that one day, “When you reach the little house, the place your journey started, you will recognize it, although it will seem much smaller than you remember.”

Having not raced since Boston, I feel the need to say hello before I head out to conquer the streets of Savannah. This summer was a wild ride, one that I am very excited to share with you after I cross the finish line. In the mean time, I forgot to share a guest post that I did on a blogger friend’s site (Hi Leslie!).  A lot of people ask me why I run. This is why.

See you on the other side of 26.2 : )

Pink and Black.  Sweaty Hugs.  My box with a letter.  Tuesday’s coffees.  She looked at me and said, “let’s just have fun.”  I said, “well all righty then.”  We thanked our legs for being strong and our hearts for being stronger.

Four weeks until #15.

Minor derailment appeared in the form of a neuroma in my left foot.  Two week recovery.  Taking the time to breathe and reboot.  Been making good on January’s requests to 2011.

Two months to the day until #15.  My team did well today and I love seeing them happy.  Love.

Sister and I were chilly… cuddles while we wait:

Team njoy racing at the finish:

Out of the darkness and into the light?  Isn’t that the saying?

Camera skillz.  I took this shot while riding!

Road Kill:

More light than dark, more heart than stone
Return to grace, resume its place
A kingdom awaits
Her throne, alone
The people the places
The dreams the wishes
A jagged memory
Fades into distance
It meets my arms
With less resistance

Soldier on dear friend, soldier on.

Race Stats by the numbers:
197 Miles
36  Legs
12 Runners
2 Vans

In my book:
16.5 miles total, 7:31 average pace

“In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve months sit about a fire, warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.”

Something funny happens when a dream comes true.  Time moves so quickly I can’t keep up.  Senses heighten. Breathing quickens.  Moments must be captured with noticeable effort.

I learned to pay attention to things like this when a mentor once told me to feel the feeling of the socks on my feet.  For 10 years I’ve remembered that advice and I come back to it often.  Stop.  Re-center.  Listen.  To your heart, to your head, to the world, to yourself.

I should take my own advice.  I’ve put my walls up again.  My steel, unbreakable, unshakable walls.  Only this time it isn’t detrimental to my health.  I will protect this house.  I will protect it like the most precious of jewels.  I will let in only those who respect what it means to cross the threshold of my door.  All too often, and with great ease, I allow my generosity and my heart and my love to get taken advantage of.

One time, when I was especially feeling this way, someone asked me if they thought I’d be happier had I never met them all.  I’m never one to wish the opposite had happened in any situation because I take pleasure in learning from all that life throws at me.  But my response?  It went something like this:  “Well, I would just be blissfully unaware of what this kind of love feels like.  What it feels like to let down my walls and let someone in.”  You know what it feels like?  It hurts.  And it’s left me wondering… is it better to be blissfully unaware of all the feelings that exist in the world – even the good ones – or should we  be open to the risk of possibly experiencing pain in order to find love?  Both within ourselves and eventually in someone else.

I know the answer.  It’s never better to be blissfully unaware of anything, ever.  And it makes me thankful for Alicia, Dan, Jen, Mark, Hadley, Becca, Karyn, Jessi, Allison, Katie P., and Kelli- the ones who hold me accountable for choosing good, for seeing good, for doing good day in and day out.  Never have I appreciated the belief that my friends have in me like I do right now.  Remember my 2011 beginning of the year funk?  It’s still here.  I’m still sorting through this period of growth and growing up and while some paths are crystal clear, others are still foggy as ever.  But it’s okay because this is life, this beautiful life.

I’ve wanted Boston for my entire adult life and this training time was the most sacred, the most special training cycle I’ve had thus far in my journey (to 50 in 50).  Anyone who knows me can attest to that.  I’m practically in tears just writing about it.  I’m not one of those people that qualifying for this race came easy.  Have you ever wanted something so badly you’d literally do anything to get it?  I keep (jokingly) comparing myself to Natalie Portman in The Black Swan and during one of my inspirational rants about it, a friend said, “you know she’s crazy right?”  Well yes I know that, but it’s not the point.  She wanted something so hard and with such desire that she didn’t let anything stop her and while there’s a lot of discussion on the topic of her psychosis, did you see she the way she sparkled when she performed the Black Swan?  Nothing mattered, nothing else existed but her own self in that moment.  I think every athlete, every performer, every artist sees a little bit of him/herself in Natalie’s exaggerated character.

Can’t ever break this focus:

And my walls?  They protect me.  I used their protection to shield any outside influence that could have deterred me from having nothing but the very best possible cycle of training from January-April.  And it worked.  It worked beautifully.  I walked into the gym early one Saturday morning to one of the trainers asking me, “what are you so happy about?”  Every single time I set out to run over these last four months it was with intention, with a smile and with the bigger picture in mind. Every press of the green ‘Start’ button on the treadmill came with another chance to prove my tenacity and my will to succeed.  Nothing stopped me.  Nothing got in my way.  Not the Chicago weather.  Not strep throat.  Not jet lag in Europe.  Not even the boy who sent flowers on my birthday and never called again got an ounce of my energy.  Running got it all, it got everything, it got all of me and it was beautiful.

Lakeshore Drive after February’s Thundersnow:

(source)

99.5% of my Boston training was done on the treadmill (which later proved to be not as successful as I’d hoped). Chicago Winter + Me + Lakefront Path – Bathrooms and Water = No Bueno.  Most long runs: 14, 14, 14, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 15 – treadmill.

A typical Saturday morning set up:

Thank god for Lauren and Jodi who kept me company on most of these runs.  And for Becca, who happily and without complaint, rode a bike next to me in Amsterdam while I cranked out one more 22 miler into the Dutch countryside on our vacation.

Hanging at a brewery, day before long run:

I was on autopilot, cruise control, an almost feeling-less machine these last four months.  Probably not the best way to float through existence but I needed distraction from the fire (still raging after all this time) in my heart.  I will admit I am nervous about the fall-out that’s bound to happen now that I have to resurface into the real world.  But fine, I’ll take the punishment for giving of myself 100% to something I wanted.

Which also leads me to wonder, do we have to suffer or take punishment to achieve the things we really want in life?  Jealousy, doubters, people who negatively question your goals, being reprimanded for not performing in other areas of life, i.e. relationships, friendships, work, etc.  Over the years I’ve endured pain in every single one of these areas to achieve my goals, regardless of what that goal was.  Is it that I need more balance?  Not sure.  To be more compassionate?  Always.  To be less passionate?  Never.  Is it the hard stuff that makes us appreciate the good?  Oh yes, yes, yes.

Then there was touchdown in Boston.

From the moment I arrived, there is only one word for the whole thing:  overwhelmed.  The kind of ‘overwhelmed’ that makes you stop and say, “holy shit, am I really here?  Did I really make it?”  The adrenaline, energy and excitement that radiates from every single person, runner or supporter (those are the only two types of people that exist in Boston), is palpable.  I could feel it in my heart, and for someone who really loves to be loved, it was indulgence of the greatest kind for four days solid.  There are marathons and then there’s the Boston Marathon.  There are goals and then there are life goals.  Put the two together and you’d be overwhelmed too.

Pure anticipation:

My support crew in attendance was awesome and massive considering I usually travel solo to my marathons or with only 1-2 other people in tow.

First were my parents:

I am (again) overwhelmed by their continued love and support as I get older.  It means so much because for many years it was difficult for them to juggle raising a two-year-old, with one daughter in high school and the other in college.  I wanted to hug them and never let go the whole weekend.

Next were my Monday girls (minus Allison):

You’ve heard me talk about them enough.  They are fabulous, dynamic, successful, smart and a living example of what real friends are.  They’re the ones with whom I am not afraid to be vulnerable and will gladly tear down all walls that could possibly exist.

And last were Ileana and her fiance Patrick, and Dadriana – two girls from my overseas study days in Florence, Italy 2004:

Ileana and me at dinner:

Dadriana and me:

Sabrina  (who I’ve mentioned before) is also part of this crew, and I’m convinced that in another life, we were four Italian grandmothers standing in line at the local pasticceria for fresh schaciatta while bitching about our husbands.

I arrived in Boston on Friday and leading up to Marathon Monday was a whirlwind of sightseeing, shopping, brunching, lunching, and dinners all while trying to maintain race focus and a somewhat normal routine.  It was difficult and looking back I should have chosen to either be there to race or be there to enjoy myself and doing both was hard!  By the time Monday (race day) came around I’d had three full days of adrenaline-pumping excitement and my body was tired despite the fact that I managed a nap each day prior.

Approximately 27,000 runners participated in this race which is a straight shot from Hopkinton to Boston.

All of us have to be bused out to the start and held in a field at a high school until it’s time to start the race.  To sit on, people bring trash bags, old blankets, towels and I even saw a guy with an air mattress.  Then you just sit.  For two hours.  And it’s early morning in April on the east coast.  Despite the sun, it’s cold and I didn’t wear enough clothes so I was stiff, wrapped in myself and listening to music, taking it all in.  Wide-eyed, and looking around, I don’t realize I am smiling until man in a group of people nearby says, “you won’t have that grin at the top of Heartbreak Hill!”  Challenge. “Oh yes I will,” I reply.  “I’ve been smiling since the day I qualified for this race and I will smile till I cross that finish line.”

Everyone around me smiled too and part of me hopes it inspired someone to enjoy their experience just a little more than had they not been a part of that small moment.

The Start:

Lately, I’ve been having a lot of internal dialogue with the angel on my right shoulder and the devil on my left.  I’ve come to many crossroads so far this year so it’s only fitting that in the one Boston Marathon I ran, that I actually had two parallel and different experiences.  First was the technical experience and second was the emotional.

So the technicalities of the race… holy.hills.

Remember how I trained on the treadmill for this?  My training schedule went as follows:

Monday – cross train (spin bike, stationary bike, rower) and yoga
Tuesday – speed work (run)
Wednesday – tempo (run)
Thursday – steady state and/or hill work (run)
Friday – yoga
Saturday – long run
Sunday – off or yoga

Advice to anyone training for Boston – do more hill work than you think you need.  I should have done more inclines on my Saturday long runs, especially in the late stages of my mileage.  At Boston, people will tell you the first half is mostly downhill.  They’re lying.  It’s all rolling hills.  Up, down, up, down.  By the time you get to the “famous hill section” between miles 16-21, you’ve been climbing all day, so it hardly seems more challenging from the 15 you just completed.

Ever since I went like a bat out of hell down that canyon in Salt Lake City and hit the wall big time at mile 22, I’ve run the beginning of my races conservatively and Boston was no exception.  I’m glad I did that because man, this race was tough.  I couldn’t seem to get in a groove, my normally very comfortable 7:50 pace just didn’t click in.  I had a few nutritional issues (no shocker there) and stopped for the bathroom three times.  I’m pretty sure it was a combo of nerves and the fact that I’d eaten my rice cakes and almond butter 2 hours before I started racing, so I began feeling a little hungry and even with gels throughout, I just couldn’t catch up.

Instead of trying to PR, I kept it cool, stayed relaxed and let my body do its work.  I didn’t hit the proverbial wall at all but I did feel tight the majority of the race.   The hills were awesome as I am naturally a really strong hill climber, but that many and that often…oy.  One thing I realized from this race is that I need to do a lot more hip strength work at the gym.  A combination of genetics and my skating days have blessed me with very, very strong hamstrings, quads and glutes but I need to work on the hips.

Jessi hopping on course with me, We Are Not Martha captured the moment:

I will gladly admit that I struggled through Boston and it was humbling.  The talent that I was surrounded by for 26.2 miles was really something to see.  Being that the race is pretty much run on a two-lane road for the majority, you’re surrounded by people from start to finish.  There is no thin-out, and definitely no quiet spots.  Every water station is crammed and you better not stop, ever, or someone will run right into your back and make you keep moving.

It’s funny though, it didn’t matter how tired or done I was, when I turned left onto Boylston and saw that finish line, it was no big deal holding a 6-minute pace for a quarter mile.  So maybe I could have run faster?  Who knows, we have 36 more races to find out…

And now the juicy stuff.

From the second I crossed the start line, I felt like a celebrity.  Bostonians came out in droves and it really is as energetic and exciting as everyone says.  So many children, so many families, all walks of life, I saw it all.  In addition to the certified race support, many families handed out orange slices, popsicles, water, candy, pretzels, and the occasional beer.  The infamous scream tunnel at Wellesley, I could hear from a quarter mile away.  They were so incredible I forgot I was running.  The tradition is that you’re supposed to get a kiss from a girl, so I made my way to the crowd and planted one right on a girl’s cheek.  We were at mile 13, she probably thought that was gross, haha.

Then there was Heartbreak Hill which really isn’t that heartbreaking because the hill before it was worse.  Spray painted on the street from the start of the incline to the top were words like “Thump, Thump, Thump,” and “You Can Do It,” and “Have Heart.” And at the top, decked in Tango Red were 20 of the most enthusiastic lululemon cheerleaders I’d ever witnessed.  It didn’t stop… then there were the Boston College kids who were drunk, loud and amazing.  They chanted my name (I printed it on my shirt) for over a mile.  Next was Fenway Park where that day’s baseball game had just let out.  The last two miles are a blur.  The road is only two lanes wide and the fans are pressing forward, police and troops holding them back.  People reaching out in hopes to share in some of the glory you’re experiencing.  Cheers louder than I ever thought possible, and the thought that crossed my mind:  “I wonder if this is how Justin Bieber feels all the time?”

Along the course I saw everyone who came out to support me but they saved the best for last.  My mom and dad were positioned right at the 26.1 mile mark.  Seeing them as I’m sprinting in for the finish was beyond words.  They were so excited, so cute, so proud, I just wanted to hop over the barrier and squeeze them!

Mom got a photo of me finishing:

When I crossed the finish line, I cried.  It was the first time a race had brought me to tears.  To my right a man was down on his knee proposing to his girlfriend.  To my left was a man who had run the race in nothing but a loin cloth.  No shoes, no clothes, nothing.  I smiled and laughed and took in the greatness of what we had just accomplished.  Our own stories, our own paths bringing humanity together on this one day, in this one place, in this one moment.  Beautiful.

Boston Marathon FINISHER!

My parents and my dad’s fanny pack were celebrating too.  See where I get it from?

And now, with another major life goal accomplished I’m looking forward to what is next.  I’m determined to make good on 2011.  I’m fortifying my walls with love and decorating them in beauty.  I am buying new socks.  I’m doing something about this fire in my heart.  I am living a certain manifesto and regardless of where that path takes me, I will continue to elevate the world from mediocrity to greatness by striving to elevate myself to levels even I didn’t know were possible.

In order to document my goal of running 50+ marathons in 50 states, I started this blog a little over a year ago.  My first marathon was in 2005 and I don’t have a specific time frame on completing this adventure.

How to read the blog?
All of my posts correspond to races that I’ve completed.  You can find my marathon history and stories here.
Other short race-related posts can be found here.

If you’re wanting more, I have a Tumblr at WttMB.tumblr.com where I post photos, inspiration, quotes, my mileage logs and other wild streams-of-consciousness.

This blog is my (sometimes not so) paralleled journey through running and life and I’m excited you’re joining me for the ride!

Also, here’s the 5K Guilty Pleasure Playlist that you were promised:

1. “Skin” – Rihanna
2. “Hold it Against Me” – Britney Spears
3. “No Hands” – Waka Flocka Flame
4. “Itty Bitty Piggy” – Nicki Minaj
5. “Look at Me Now” – Chris Brown
6. “Letting Go” – Sean Kingston

My next post will be the Boston re-cap, so I’ll see you after April 18th!

You can find it here: WttMB.tumblr.com
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Happy (Winter) Running!