When I was in the height of marathon training, I would often envision what role running would play in my life come December. I figured I would still be in the glow of a successful marathon and feel rather quite accomplished. I would no doubt still be running, but there would be a smugness about my daily workouts. I had accomplished my goals, and the rest would be extra.

This has been an excellent year for me and running—me pushing myself harder than ever and feeling more and more like a real runner because of it, but not so for racing. I had two smaller races that were mostly for fun, and the two that I really cared about, a half and a full, were tainted with big expectations and big blow ups. In both the Chicago Spring Half and the Twin Cities Marathon, I knew my fitness was greater than what the time indicates, but both were huge disappointments. In each race, I felt like my mind gave up on me way before my body did.

After TC, I was eager to race again. I had thought about doing something this year yet, but with school and work, I decided to take the rest of the season to reset. I would definitely be back for a spring marathon and who knows what else.

As the weeks have passed since the marathon, I am running pretty consistently. I try to get at least 25 miles in a week and fit in runs the best I can. Mostly, I try to run with my neighborhood running group, specifically during long run Sundays. I haven’t done any speed work, but I’ve run with some faster people at times that helps get my heart going.

I am registered for the F3 Half Marathon, and which will only be my third ever. At times, I get excited and amped about going hard in that race and hopefully breaking two hours. Other times, though, I think about what kind of pacing strategy that would take, and the subsequent work, and I just don’t have the heart to chase after such a goal.

The race is in two months, and I don’t have a training plan picked out. I am not sure I am even going to do one. Because this race is on Chicago’s lakefront in January, conditions are unpredictable and chasing PRs come with a warning sign. Still, I am not sure what I can give to training for this other than the current running I am doing.

When I start to think about spring race plans, nothing really excites me. I had thought about doing a May marathon back in the town where I went to college, as a chance to run those streets again. Or, going a bit longer and running a 50K trail race that is less trail and more bridled path. But race fees, training logistics, and all the hours needed to get to the start line have drained any enthusiasm.

Some days, just getting out the door is hard. The last run I did, two days ago for three miles, I hated every step and couldn’t wait for it to be over. But then when I take days off, like today, I feel bad about not running and am jealous of those who did go out. I watch others have great runs on Strava, and wish that I could have that same joy, distance, and speed, but not enough to go out and try. It’s like I can’t win.

Going into the summer, my only goal was to run as much as I could and enjoy every bit of the training process. Now, I just want to get back to a place where running doesn’t feel like a chore.

It probably sounds like I am burned out, which I am, but I am also uninterested in taking a week or two off. My anxiety is too high for that, and I need the release. Plus, it’s the holidays, and I enjoying going out early before celebrations. My only running goal right now is to complete a streak—from Thanksgiving to New Years—but I don’t know if running every day is really going to make me want to run all the races and suddenly feel amped up to go after goals.

Right now, I haven’t made any solid running plans because I am still unsure what my spring semester is going to look like, but regardless, I can’t have the same training cycle as I did for TC. I don’t have the time or the motivation for that.

I guess what I want is to run. Run because it makes me feel me, because there is not another way I would want to spend that hour of a day. I think I need to start setting better boundaries with why and how I run, and hopefully then I will find that joy. I know can feel love and excitement for running each day, but at least I want to feel that purpose again.

Hi, it’s been awhile. I apologize for the delay. School has occupied most of my time, but I have not forgotten that I owe this little space a recap of my Twin Cities Marathon. This is quite long post was written the day after the race on the way home. My emotions were raw at the time, but I needed writing to help me process the race. Anyway, here is my recap:

On October 8, 2017, I should have been running the Chicago Marathon. It should have been my redemption race, from the marathon two years ago when I went too fast and didn’t hydrate properly. It should have been my third marathon.

Instead, I watched the marathon from my couch with my right leg strapped to a machine that moved it back and forth slowly. Three days prior, I had had labral repair surgery on my hip, which left me home-bound and on crutches for a month. The pain arrived just a week after I got notification that I had been accepted into the race via lottery. After months of tests and appointments, it was clear that surgery was my only option, if I wanted to live pain free, and that meant no 2017 marathon.

I had the option to defer my entry a year, as long as I was willing to pay the race fee again, but decided against it. I figured I would run again, but I couldn’t guarantee I would be in marathon shape two years later and didn’t want to risk the $180.

The road to recovery was longer and more brutal than I could have ever anticipated. Week after week, I went to physical therapy, still noting pain during my exercises, but asking when I could run again. In February, I got permission to start a return-to-run program, and while it started out fine, the pain eventually returned. My progression regressed from four months post-opt to one, and we had to start nearly from the beginning.

During this time, I thought I had to give up on running for forever. Not just marathons, but all running. It was as if my body said no more. This broke my heart. Running had always been my kind of church, something that made me feel whole and strong, and without it, I felt miserable. The worst part was not being able to run on my wedding day, something I had always envisioned I would do. Before I put on that white dress and begin a new life with my husband, I would go for a run and think about what that all meant. At that time, though, I couldn’t even run 10 minutes.

At one point, my friends and I went to see a psychic, as part of my pre-wedding activities. She gave me a rundown of what she saw in the tarot cards, but I only had three specific questions for her: was I marrying the right man, was I making the right decision by going back to school, and would I ever be able to run again. Her answers were yes, yes, and no. She told me that running and I were done and that I should take up water sports.

By the end of the summer, I had officially finished physical therapy (mostly because insurance had refused to pay for any further sessions, despite my doctors’ orders), and I was again cleared for a return-to-running program. I went slower this time, took it day by day, and eventually, I was running a few times a week. A big goal was to run eight miles on my birthday and then 10 a few weeks later.

Running was back in my life, and I fit it in as I could with school, my graduate assistantship, and my part-time job. Then, in November, my husband lost his job, and with me having left mine to return to school, it was a major setback for us. I didn’t handle it well, and the only thing that could comfort me was running. So I ran when I was angry, when I was scared, when I was sad, when I didn’t know what else to do. I ran in the rain, snow, on the ice, in the dark. I kept running and running.

By March, I had built up some fitness, with no hip issues, and decided to do some races, so I signed up for an 8K and a half marathon, but of course, there was one race I really wanted to do. A few months earlier, I had had a dream about running a marathon, and I couldn’t shake the want to be out there, struggling with my fellow runners, getting to the end of 26.2, and knowing that I was part of a special breed. The Twin Cities Marathon registration opened, and I didn’t hesitate in giving over the $110 race fee.

It had been four years since my last marathon, and I missed training. I longed for schedules and daily logs, tracking splits and averages. School was getting harder, my husband still hadn’t found a salaried job, and I needed to be able to control something and put my anxiety and energy into something that wasn’t worry about our finances or homework.

My goal for the summer was to train hard. I signed up for a local running club and took the plan they gave me and made it harder. Instead of training four or five days, I went for six. I went from 20-30 miles a week to 40-50. I added tempo runs, hill work, and intervals at the track. Running became my life as I made more and more running friends and got a part-time job at a local running store. And, it was amazing. I loved being in marathon-training mode and feeling (not to mention dressing) like a runner every day.

At the height of my training, when the mile started to ramp up, I returned to school and my grad assistant job. My days were long, jammed packed from the moment I woke up to the time I went to bed, and in these times, I started to resented running. I hated getting up at 5 a.m., after having gotten home at 10 p.m. the night before. I began to have more terrible runs than good ones, and my stomach turned at the thought of having to run the same routes over and over. But the marathon was just a few weeks away, and it would be my redemption.

I didn’t realize it until after I completed the Twin Cities Marathon, but I had a lot riding on this race. It was not only going to be my redemption from hip surgery, but a glorious win after struggling with my husband’s job search and our financial instability. I wasn’t just going to finish this marathon, but I was going to crush it. I had trained harder than ever and was incredible shape. I wasn’t just going to get a PR, but I was going to get a massive PR. I was going to cross that finish line, and I was going to feel assured and accomplished in a way that I hadn’t in years. It was going to my big win.

During hard workouts, I imagined what I would post on social media about being laid up two years before and how I finally had completed my third marathon. “You can do hard things,” I was going to tell everyone. While everyone I know was raising families, buying houses, and moving up in their careers, this would be my moment to shine. At this point in my life, I can’t have what they do, but I could have this marathon finish.

We got to Minnesota Thursday night, staying with my brother and his family, so that I could relax and prepare for the race. Earlier in the week, I developed a cold, but I was sure that it would pass. Over the next two days, I snuggled with my nieces, and battled my increasing nerves. I couldn’t eat a lot, but I made myself anyway. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, and I didn’t sleep much. I had waited months for this weekend, and it was finally here, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t enjoy it. The anxiety and excitement took me out of the moment.

I went into this race with some time goals. Ideally, sub 4, but I knew that would be tough, and so I relented to a 4:05 or 4:10, knowing I could certainly do a 4:20. Most of all, I just wanted to soak up every minute of that race. I had waited four years for this; it had been a long road, and I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to just enjoy it.

Race day came, and everything felt right. I put on my jersey with a pinned bib, did my warm ups, and ate my breakfast. My brother dove me to the start with plenty of time to drop off my bag and go to the bathroom twice. I found my corral and desired pace group with just minutes to go. It all felt right.

The Twin Cities Marathon is known for having killer hills from mile 21-23, so every veteran of the race recommends starting slow. I knew I would want to go out fast, so I pulled the reigns in during that first mile in downtown Minneapolis. It was a bit slower than I wanted, but I would make up for it, I told myself. After two, I started to pick up the pace a bit, feeling a bit sluggish with tight legs, but knowing I wanted to conserve energy.

I wasn’t even to mile three when my side began to cramp. This never happens. I figured it would work itself out and just kept going. I took water at each aid station and GUs every four miles, but by mile nine, I wasn’t doing well. Not only were my calves cramping, but my legs hadn’t loosened up yet, my stomach felt heavy, and I noticed a cold chill. I felt my arm. It was dry and covered in goosebumps. This was not good. I needed water. I was dehydrated.

My mind started to slip as did my pace. I hadn’t gone halfway; how was I going to continue on? I blacked out a bit, ticking mile off by mile. I knew my family would be at 14, and I seriously contemplated dropping then. I was seeing black spots, and I couldn’t imagine that the worst of the race was still six miles away. When I saw my family, I hugged them all and asked for my handheld. I told them that I was dehydrated and unsure if I could keep going. I did leave them and ventured on.

Around 16, I realized I needed to start walking through the aid stations. I had been fighting the urge to puke for five miles at this point, and if I wanted to keep going, I would have to walk. My initial time goals were out the window, but I thought I might still be able to beat my 4:52 PR, and if I wanted to actually enjoy the race, I knew I would have to walk. Lots of people walk in marathons, I suppose I could be one of them, I thought and decided to walk. The walking helped, and I started allowing myself to do it every mile, through the water stops, mile markers, or down hills. I refuse to walk during runs, but I didn’t want to suffer. I just wanted to finish.

I kept taking water and walking, I saw my family again at 19, and while I felt better than I did at 14, I wasn’t proud to be walking. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how fast.

When I got to the hilly section, I actually felt good and ran up them. A part of me thought I would could run the rest, but then I missed the water stop at 24, and fell apart. Despite all the water I had taken prior to the race and during, I was so dehydrated. Thankfully, someone from a church brought me some. At this point, I wasn’t going to PR and maybe not finish under 5 hours, but I kept going.

The last mile felt fine, and I sprinted to the end. I finished about an hour slower than I thought I was capable of, which is something I wouldn’t let myself forget.

At first, I felt OK. I had finished, didn’t I? I got my shirt and my medal and told my husband I would never run another marathon. But as the day wore on, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I failed. Friends and family texted me, knowing I was probably upset, and tried to reassure me, but I wouldn’t hear of it.

Worse than suffering through the marathon was the emotional beating I gave myself later on, especially as I was turning and tossing at night. I felt like I had given up on myself, that I let the first signs of weakness take me out of the game and that I should have I pushed harder. I worried that I disappointed all my friends and family who had believed in me because I hadn’t believed in me. I was embarrassed with my effort and felt undeserving of any congratulations. And, I fretted over what this meant for future running. This sport was supposed to be my saving grace, but like so many things in my life the past year, it had let me down. Was it finished with me? Was I finished with it again? I wasn’t sure I could run again, or even if I wanted to.

I woke up the next day, and I cried. I cried for the race I should have had, for the race I did, and for the reassurance I expected this marathon to bring me. I cried in my husband’s arms and then in my mom’s. They loved me the best I could, but I couldn’t love me. Not in that moment.

Once the tears were gone, I could see clearer. It just wasn’t my day. That happens to all runners. Maybe I could do another marathon at some point, but I would need a break. Maybe running marathons aren’t what I need from running at this point in my life. Maybe my running relationship needs to be something bigger, something deeper.

At this point, a little more than 24 hours from the race, I am still feeling mixed emotions. I have my sights set on a few other races, but I don’t plan to make any decisions at the moment. I know that it’s time to dive into my schoolwork and attend to the rest of my life, and I am OK with that. Eventually, I will have to go back through race day to learn the lessons I need for the next one, but I know one major lesson in all of that is strength. People keep telling me how strong I am, and this is when that strength is needed the most. I must use it to be gentle on myself, to accept my day for what it was and move on. I need to see the good over the bad and find an authentic optimism. I must not compare myself but understand that this rough day is part of my journey, and only a small part of it.

My third marathon should have been so many things it wasn’t, but my goal now is to accept and appreciate for it what it was. There is much beauty in it, and I will need it to continue forward.

—-

More than a month has passed since the marathon and writing that. I had strongly considered doing another fall marathon, but ultimately chose not to. I gave running so much of me, but at this point, I need running to give to me. Because I had walked so much, my recovery was pretty smooth and I was back running a week later, and although I told my husband I would never do another race, I am definitely considering one next spring along with a half marathon that I have planned in January. My greatest fear was that the heartbreak from this marathon would make me want to stop running, and I was so unsure of how I could find the joy and motivation to run after that race, but I did. I have had so many beautiful, inspiring, autumn-soaked runs in the last few weeks, reminding me that running isn’t about just one race but it’s a lifetime relationship. Yes, the race wasn’t what I wanted, but it was the race I got. So, I keep running and knowing that one day, in running or life, doesn’t define me.

Hello, hello. I know it’s been a minute since I’ve posted here, but writing has taken a back burner to marathon training, school, and work. The last few weeks of training were a bit intense – with long days and some very humid runs (including a 16 miler where I was running at the pace of a slow walk) – but we are now in the downward slope.

With a bit more than a week to go to race day, all the physical work has been done. I’ve finished my last tempo runs, intervals, and hill workouts. I have eight miles to do tomorrow, but after that it will be shorter, easier runs until race day. There are some slight aches and pains in my hips and glutes, which means my body is working out any fatigue and repairing itself. I am trying to get as much sleep as my schedule allows and keep my diet on the healthier side, but really at this point, the days are just passing by until it’s the big day. My main focus for the next week is getting my head in the right spot.

The Twin Cities Marathon has a great mile-by-mile guide that I’ve been reading, and I’ve been trying to take in inspiration anywhere I can get it, like this movie.

For a long time, I’ve been hesitant to talk about my goals, saying that I really just want to have fun. And while that is true, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have some time ambitions. I am afraid that they are too lofty, and if I speak them out into the world, I would be failing from the beginning.

However, in the nearly 35 years I’ve been on this Earth, the one thing I excel at is selling myself short. My friend Danielle is always telling me that my goals are too attainable and that I am a lot faster than I think I am. She has more faith in me, and that just doesn’t seem right. I don’t want to self-sabotage myself from the beginning by thinking too small, and so I am going to put my goals out to the universe.

Ideally, I would love to run a sub 4-hour marathon. I can run that pace, but my biggest concern is keeping it going during miles 22-26. A 4:10 is definitely doable as long as I stay smart and don’t go out too fast trying to chase that 3:XX. I actually think I might start with the 4:10 pacer and work from there, but I want to talk to the pacers at the expo and get a better idea of their strategy.

While time is an important factor, and I want to believe in myself more than I ever have before, I also don’t want to be so caught up in chasing a time that I forget why I am doing this. This marathon is about redemption, about finding strength to come back from an injury and fall in love with running again. I don’t want to give up any moment of that marathon feeling so terrible that I want to quit because I got greedy with numbers. I want to be present and enjoy every single step with it.

The marathon finish line will feel great, but really, I am just happy to have running so prominently placed in my life. After my hip surgery, I thought that I may never run again. But, here I am, two years after, and not only am I about to run a marathon, but I’ve just completed one of my most aggressive training cycles. I worked harder for this marathon than any others, and honestly, that is what I am most proud of. Yes, I have a time goal that I think is achievable, but I also want to enjoy the heck out of this race. I deserve it.

This week brought a comeback, and then a setback.

October 5, 2019, will mark two years since I had surgery to repair a labral tear in my right hip. I am in the process of writing a longer post about this procedure and the lengthy recovery, but it was an extremely emotional process for me. More than once, I feared that I would never be able run again, let alone do another marathon. Thankfully, though, about a year ago, I finally regained my strength and slowly returned to running, and by the time the Twin Cities Marathon registration open, I had completely recovered, and my body felt ready to go through another marathon cycle.

I trained for and raced a spring half marathon and then entered into marathon. In most training cycles, I’ve usually taken two rest days per week, but I stepped it down to one and slowly increased my weekly mileage and added two high effort workouts with a long run into my schedule. For the first 10 weeks, my hip felt great. I hadn’t had any pain in months, and I started to believe that I could get through this cycle without any issues at all.

In addition to running, I often ride my bike to work, which is about 10 miles roundtrip. A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a slight nudge in my right hip. It wasn’t painful, but it didn’t feel great either. Rather, it was familiar. The sensation wasn’t there when I was running, or after, so I decided to take a break from biking (also because I was tired of dodging careless drivers) thinking the combination of activities was becoming a bit much for the hip.

Coming off last week’s 50 miles, I was eager to post another high mileage week, before cutting back. The first run of the week was six tempo miles with a warm up and cool down. I started dreading the run nearly 24 hours before the workout, but I saw this as an opportunity to bring some speed on tired legs. Despite the slog to get out the door, it was a great run. My miles got progressively faster, and I hit my desired paces. I felt strong and reassured that my body was stronger and healthier than ever.

That afternoon, though, the nudge in my hip was back, and this time it was painful. Not throbbing or wrenching painful, but enough discomfort to cause me pause. Fatigue kept me in bed when my alarm when off the next morning, and I decided to move my rest day from Wednesday to Tuesday, but by mid-day I was fine and eager to run. The scheduled called for seven recovery miles, so I decided to run commute from therapy to work. I promised my husband that if my hip hurt, I would take a bus the rest of the way. I don’t run commute that much, mostly because I hate running with a back pack, but this was pleasant. The extra load on my back kept my pace nice and easy, and I took water breaks as I needed them. My hip tightened up in the first mile but relaxed after that and I didn’t feel it again for the seven-mile run.

At work, it was a different story. My hip tugged when climbing up and down the stairs, sitting and standing, and bending over to pick up boxes. Again, it wasn’t a sharp pain, but the rest day to foam roll, ice, and soak in Epsom salts helped. I even busted out my old physical therapy exercises and stayed off my feet most of the day. I did everything I could think of to get ready for the next day’s work out – 18 miles.

On Sunday, my husband and I left for a week-long road trip west to visit family, so because of travel and a full shift on Saturday, I moved my long run to Thursday. It wasn’t ideal, knowing that I probably wouldn’t find anyone to do that long of a run with me mid-week, but it was what I had to do in order to get it in. And, this was a monumental run for me because I haven’t gone this far since the 2015 Chicago Marathon. Here is the point in the training cycle when I get into the real long distances, when I really have to work on my mental game and reassure myself of what my body is capable of.

Going into the run, I had no expectations. It was going to be hot and humid and three hours is a long time to be out there. I brought my CTA pass with me and vowed to myself that I would abandon the run if I felt any hip pain at all. I’ve normally been trying to keep my long runs at a 9:30 pace, but for this run, I had to give myself the permission to let go of gals and just run, letting my body be the ultimate guide.

Once, I saw someone post about how awful 18 milers are, and for whatever reason, I’ve adopted that attitude. I can have a great 20 miler but a disgusting 18. Because my goal was just to get through this, for whatever reason, the mental trudge wasn’t there. For most of the run, I kept my Garmin on watch mode and didn’t care too much about pace. It was a gorgeous morning, and I was mostly just enjoying being on the Lakefront Path. It was a steady and strong run, and my hip was perfect. I never had to use the CTA pass.

Before my surgery, it was hard to tell how bad the pain was because it rarely hurt while running. I felt it biking and doing yoga, but not during running. The pain usually came after. That’s what happened this week. I ran for three hours without noticing my hip, but several hours later, I felt it.

The next day, it was a bit worse after my recovery. On Saturday morning, I was hoping to do eight miles with my neighborhood running group. A little voice in my head told me, that because I could feel the pain while sleeping, maybe I should take the day off. Still, when my alarm went off, I got dressed like I was going to run but unsure if I would. I stood in my kitchen, feeling the nagging in my hip, and understood that this was my chance to train smart and actually work with my body. I decided to call it, and instead, I did PT exercises and foam rolled.

Not running, especially on Saturday, was devastating. I was extremely upset about having to miss my first workout of this training cycle, and I had to give myself a few pep talks to get back to a mentally sound place. It sucked, and I was sad, but I could also understand that the break was necessary. Instead of letting myself panic about how missing one workout could derail my training, I tried to focus on how the rest could boost it. In reality, this entire week was filled with mornings when I didn’t want to run, and maybe a few rest days would actually do me good.

I am to susceptible to my external world and comparing myself to others is practically a part-time job for me. After I made my decision, I wanted to browse Strava and punish myself by looking at all the great workouts that others did, and I did for a while, but then I had to take a break. To stay mentally sound, I had to remind myself over and over that I was on my own journey, and that means taking a few days off to calm an old hip injury.

The day off, in addition to foam rolling, massages, ibuprofen, Epson salt baths, and icing helped, and the pain dulled. I ran a bit on Sunday to test it, and it wasn’t totally back to normal but it also wasn’t excruciating.  

The pain is still present, but less so. I think I became too complacent with strength workouts and recovery, so moving forward I will keeping doing PT exercises, along with core work, and making stretching and rolling a priority. I am confident that if I am more intentional the hip issues should fade away. If there is still pain by the time I return from vacation, I will consult a doctor, but I really don’t expect that.

So, this week I had to take more rest, and it was a somewhat setback to my training, but I also ran 18 miles for the first time in four years. It wasn’t the week I was hoping for, but that’s part of the process, and if I can’t take the ebbs and flows of marathon training, then I shouldn’t be training. This is all part of it, and I am still here, listening to and understanding my body, and moving forward, whatever that looks like.

Weeks to Marathon: Eight

Miles: 43

Goals: I wanted to build my mileage, but that changed with the hip issues. The goal was to listen to my body and change plans when needed.

Monday: Progressive Tempo – 10 miles – With a 2 mile warm up and cool down, the goal was to start temp miles at 9:00 and move down 15 seconds every two miles. I kind of figured this might not happen, but I nailed.

Tuesday: Recovery Run – 7 miles – Lovely run commute.

Wednesday: Rest

Thursday: Long Run – 18 miles – Amazing. Felt Great.

Friday: Recovery Run – 5 miles – Slow but good.

Saturday: Rest

Sunday: Easy – 3 miles – Wanted to test the waters, hip seemed to ache a bit but in a different way than before.

Next week’s goal: I am traveling, and already had intentions of cutting back, so my goal is to run as I can. No speed this week, just easy miles. I am looking forward to running to the finish line of the marathon, retracing my old cross country routes while in my hometown, and then doing a little altitude training in Colorado. Again, my body will be my guide so I will do what I am able. No expectations, just fun.

We are now in single-digit territory for the number of weeks till the Twin Cities Marathon, and nine weeks feels both like forever and no time at all.

My mileage for this week topped out at 50, which is monumental for me. The last time I ran that many miles in a week was when I was training for the Two Oceans Ultramarathon. That was in 2012. Even though I ran another marathon between then and now, Chicago in 2015, my training was not as aggressive. I actually joked back then that I was halfassing the running, but this time, I am very much fullassing the training. I am building my mileage, spending time on the track, and focusing on tempo runs. I’ve even done a few strength workouts (but I could use to do more).

It wasn’t my intention to do 50, but I was so close at the end of the week that I couldn’t help but run a couple extra miles in order to get that big 5-0. To get here, I added mostly easy miles, which made this a pretty painless build up week.

One of my biggest goals in signing up for the marathon was to put a great deal of effort into the training. Almost like a coping mechanism, I wanted to immerse myself in the process of building a training place, improving my recovery, and giving what I could to each workout, hard ones and easy ones. Hitting that 50-milestone, without injury, was proof that my body can handle the mileage and that I am doing what I set out to do.

At the end of this week, I am tired. On top of running 50 miles, I worked nearly 50 hours between my two jobs and took a final exam to finish out my summer semester. This week will likely be as intense as I took a few extra shifts to make up for a vacation I am going on the following week, and so I’ve schedule out all of my runs and recovery time. I am starting to get nervous about fitting in my training when school starts back up, but that is still a few weeks off. For now, I need to revel in and celebrate a great training week.

Weeks to Marathon: Nine
Miles: 50
Goals: My workouts are starting to get longer, so I made sleep a bigger priority for the week. This meant scheduling out every hour of my day, including commute and shower time, and being less social, but it helped me to get bed early for the next day runsAlso, the weather wasn’t too terrible that I felt like I had to start each run at 5 a.m. so I could sleep until 6 or 6:30, which helped.

Monday: Shakeout – 6 miles – I can barely remember this run, it was that insignificant. Just an out and back with the weekend’s podcasts to get my legs ready for the week.

Tuesday: Tempo + Hills — 10 — The TC Marathon has more elevation, inclines, and hills than the entire landscape of Chicago, but I am trying to get some practice on hills. There is one specific hill near the Lakefront that most people use as their practice, so I decided to run there one morning for repeats. To add more to the workout, I threw in six slightly-slower-than tempo miles as part of my run to the hill and back (which is about four miles from my house) and then 8 hill repeats.

Wednesday: Yoga with Adrienne. I’ve been terrible about doing yoga in this training cycle, but this 30-minute video for tired legs did help me stretch a bit and my legs were a bit more restored for the next day.

Thursday: Ladder Run — 7 — This workout always seems so easy on my schedule, but it is a beast. It’s 3 minutes at 5K pace, then 3 minutes at recovery pace, which is 30 slower than long run pace. You build up to 4/4, then 5/5, and finally work back down to 4/4 and 3/3. I wanted my 5K pace to be around 8:05, but it was a struggle to get there at times. So, I did what I could and tried not to let my recovery pace get too slow.

Friday: Easy Run – 5 – We were up before the sun on this one, but I did five quite easy miles with some members of my neighborhood running group.

Saturday: Long Run – 16 – A day or two before this run, I posted to the message boards of the neighborhood running group about finding water fountains in Evanston and further north, explaining I was running 16 miles and wanted to avoid the Lakefront Path (it’s nightmarish on Saturday mornings). I couldn’t run with CES this week, so I figured this would be on my own, which is usually when I get in my own head and have awful runs. However, after that post, four people offered to run parts of it with me. We ended up creating a little train in which we picked people up along the way, and it was really great. Also, I ran this a bit slower than my usual long runs, and it honestly helped with the recovery along with having to go to work after and be on my feet for several hours. My legs were not trashed, and I definitely felt like I could keep going. Lastly, I tried a few new nutrition options and decided to only take water instead of Nuun, which I have been running with. That worked really well, in addition to the GU I took before hand and the Cliff Blocks along the way. If you haven’t tried the GU Roctane Cold Brew Gel, you absolutely must. It’s amazing. All in all, a good run.

Sunday: Shakeout – 5.6 – I originally planned to run four, but decided to get to add a little extra to make that 50-mile mark. This was a nice, easy run with some members of my neighborhood running group. Running with people makes me happy.

Next week’s goals: My long run is 18, and I really hoping to focus on negative splitting it. I want to start more conservative and build from there. Another very busy week so again working on the rest. I want to keep my mileage right around the same level, but I will need to take cues from my body.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton