Down in the Valley

I've attempted to write a long-overdue blog update at several different points during the past few weeks. First, I wanted to post about my final days of training and tapering (otherwise known as "running a little, eating a lot and drinking even more wine") leading up to CIM. After comfortably securing my 2016 Trials qualifier, I planned to summarize my experience and emotions as I've done after my other marathons and significant finishes. Lastly, I'd hoped to regale you with how much I've been enjoying my down time in the days since, sampling an extra dessert here and a fumbled smack of the snooze button there. Trust me, it was going to be riveting. But in the handful of times I've had the opportunity to sit down in front of the computer to address my tens of readers, I've allowed myself instead to get distracted by things like the world's most amazing Wal-Mart "portrait studio" Christmas card photos. (Although, in my defense, can you blame me? This is redneck gold!)

Because, truth be told, I don't really feel up to the mental and emotional challenge of writing about any of that. It's something I've always done with a celebratory spirit, as if chronicling the experience is a reward in itself, something pleasurable to savor. I can't tell you how many times I re-read my own Philly entry last year, if for no other reason than to continually remind myself that I had, in fact, actually done it. (And also to double- and triple-check for typos, seeing as I was about two-thirds tucked into a bottle of wine at first writing.) 

But as I'm typing this, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to celebrate as far as running is concerned. Our entire lives, we're fed platitudes like "You can be anything you want to be!" (says the person who's never seen me dribble a basketball) and "If you work hard and persevere, you'll always achieve your goals!" (Also: "don't do drugs" and "stay in school," a directive that half my high school class seems to have disregarded.) Well, I worked pretty damn hard this time around, and at the moment I don't have much to show for it. To get even more depressingly specific, I have very little in the way of quantifiable, tangible results to show for this entire year of running. I haven't recorded a single PR (except for 8k, but that was summarily filed in the "made up distances that no one cares about" folder) nor can I name any specific race about which I feel particularly proud. Had I spent the entire year taking a pastry class or toilet training my cat (yes, despite the fact that she lacks opposable thumbs, SkyMall tells me this is a thing that is possible) or learning a new language, I would've probably emerged with a greater return on my time investment, mais oui?

Riding the high after Philly, there was simply no conceivably logical chain of events other than me running faster the next time around. I would train just as hard, race just as smart, ideally not have to take a very public bathroom break on the side of the road, and continue my solid progression away from sub-sub-elite and toward the coveted A-standard of 2:37. It sounds naive to say out loud, but I truly didn't think there was any way for this not to happen. And yet, for myriad and varied reasons which don't actually matter to the finishing clock, it simply didn't. I made it through halfway relatively on pace while trying to ignore an increasingly persistent tightness and limited range of motion in my (frozen) left hip and glute. Could I have finished? I'm sure. But anyone who reads this blog knows I've never been interested in a participant ribbon.

So at this juncture, instead of turning up the emo music and dwelling on all the things I didn't accomplish at CIM, allow me to present you with a few notable positive memories of the past few weeks via everyone's favorite blogging device, the photo montage. And rest assured, though behind all the flippant self-deprecating banter my frustration is genuine and I've indulged in a few ugly cries, I'm still as determined as ever. My next step is yet to be decided, but I can only move forward.

Jordan celebrating Thanksgiving in Ohio with mom, brother, sisters, aunts, cousins

Jealous of my hairstyle? I have a very exclusive stylist (pictured to my right)

Post-Black Friday Cincinnati shopping nourishment

My CIM roomie, Brett, reliving her epic finish from 2010

Post-race libations at the ready in the elite hospitality suite

Caitlin and Brett deep in concentration while decorating their water bottles

Thanks to Nuun Hydration for the support and the sweet black ops bottles!

Pre-race early bird special dinner with Caitlin, Jeannette and Brett

About as photogenic as it gets at 4:30 on race morning. Note to self: My Craft reflective headband works and doubles as a neck warmer.

Post-race afterpartay: a bunch of speedy marathon finishers, plus me and Jordan

Want to hear more from people who actually finished the race and qualified for the Trials? Then get up in Caitlin's and Drew's blogs. Until next time, we can all live vicariously through them.

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Solo 20-Mile Success...Which Is Weird

This long run can best be summarized by the email I sent to my friend Brett shortly after finishing it. Brett is a Boston expat (now living out west) and accomplished marathoner who also has the good fortune of being my upcoming roomie at CIM. We've been keeping each other abreast of our recent training, by which I mean commiserating about how out of shape we feel and how frustrated we are that things aren't going as smoothly as we'd hoped. But recently we both seem to have rounded a metaphorical corner, an unexpected phenomenon no better exemplified than by my strangely awesome solo long run on Monday afternoon.

"So, as I mentioned in our text convo, I've had a surprising recent development: I'm not feeling like total shit. My workout Saturday was solid, for starters. Then I was supposed to do 20 but I pushed it because my legs were tired Sunday, then crazy bad weather here Monday morning, so I finally got out and did it this afternoon/evening (snuck out of work...shhhh...) One of my biggest weaknesses from this training cycle is I haven't done enough long (18+) runs, so I was a little uncertain about how this one would go, especially solo and in the afternoon which is weird timing. But I felt GREAT. I'm not sure about pace because I don't run with a Garmin but it wasn't slow. And literally afterward I stopped, clicked my watch, and said 'Welp, that was easy.'
What's going on????!!!"

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(Second Triple Digit) Week in Review

100-101 miles
12 runs
17-mile long run
2 days in PVD
3 Frappuccinos

If my first 100-mile week was all midgets and sunshine, this second one felt more like ogres and a wicked sunburn. Yes, that might officially be the most abysmally crafted metaphor of all time, but it's only fitting for a week when my daily slogs felt anything but eloquent. It seems I sailed blissfully through the first high-mileage week with my body being none the wiser. I was, to belabor my figurative point, like the proverbial frog brought slowly to a boil completely unawares. This week, however, I was decidedly awares. From the first few steps out the door on Monday morning, my triumph turned to the sober realization that this week would not be quite the same frolicky fun as the week prior. Monday and Tuesday weren't too terrible, but the real low point came on the 4th of July. Enjoying our day off just as the founding fathers envisioned, we slept in until well past 8am, not heading out for our medium long 14-miler until at least 10. It was hot, it was humid, and I was hurting. There are some days when I am supremely grateful to not own a Garmin, and this was certainly one of them.

Fortunately, the tides slowly began to turn toward the end of the week. I enjoyed an unexpectedly chipper uptempo run with the Wicked group on Thursday night, then treated myself (in the masochistic sense of the word) to a deep-tissue massage on Friday before heading down to Providence for the weekend to spend time with our favorite Olympian, Kim, and her betrothed, Pat. Having been recently gifted a fryolator by our other favorite newly-minted Olympian, Molly, the plan for dinner was simple: fry everything in the house. Turns out this is the diet secret kept under wraps by the world's best runners. After a delightfully battered evening during which I ate various and sundry flour-masked vegetables including, but certainly not limited to, a stalk of "tempura" broccoli the approximate size and shape of a sequoia tree, one would think I might feel a bit sluggish on my Saturday run--not ideal when trying to keep pace with Kim and Molly. Fortunately the former had dragged Jordan through a 22-miler the day before and the latter had also worked out on Friday, so the pace for their easy recovery jaunt was "quite slow" (Kim's words). The relaxing weekend continued while Kim and I alternated between shopping, eating, trolling the twitterfeeds and lolling about in a state of general laziness for the remainder of Saturday. Up and early Sunday morning, Jordan and I hit the road back to Salem--but not without a quick stop in Natick to run long with Brett and her husband Matt. As an added bonus, we somehow walked out of their house the recipients of a good half dozen bottles of wine which they collected over the past three years and we will probably consume within the next three weeks. Gotta stay hydrated, right?

And so, my second 100-mile week is in the books, albeit wearily. I'm hoping week three will find my body somewhat normalized and, dare I say, accustomed to this daily toil I'm forcing upon it. If nothing else, it gives me an excuse to indulge in a Frappuccino (with whip!) almost daily.  

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(Triple Digit) Week in Review

100 (!!) miles
4 doubles
20 mile long run
18 boxes unpacked

Wow, what a difference a week makes! Last Friday I was coughing and staggering through a brutal 50-minute run on the Mall, convinced my odds of collapsing prostrate next to Mr. Washington's monument were as good as not. This week, my ailing leg magically repaired and the remaining vestiges of illness slowly leaving my body, I felt like a completely new runner. I haven't finished up morning runs feeling this crisp and strong since before the Trials. There's no logical explanation for it, but I'm certainly not complaining!

Sipping a glass of vino at Jordan's favorite spot in our new hood on Friday night (which, incidentally, is also where I'm typing this blog--clearly we're well on our way to becoming regulars), I approached the weekend with 66 miles under my belt but still planning to top out in the upper 80s or low 90s as indicated in my most recent post. We planned to meet Brett, Teresa and a few other BAA girls at Battle Road on Saturday morning for a long run, during which Brett planned to log 20 miles. Buoyed by my weekday success but with memories of countless recent labored runs still fresh in my mind, I was cautiously optimistic that I could hang on for two hours. For where I'm at right now, that would be big. But once we settled into a comfortable clip on the fantastic shaded dirt trails, I watched in amazement as an hour ticked by on my watch, then two, with no ill effects. My body felt just as fresh and strong at the end of our two-and-a-half hour jaunt as it had at the beginning, despite temperatures rising into the mid-80s with the sun beating down. Yet again, I found myself at once utterly baffled and supremely grateful.

You know where this is headed. 86 miles down, one day remaining...of course I had to reach for the triple digits. Jordan and I slept in, not stepping outside until well after 9am. Just like Saturday, it was already 85 degrees and blindingly bright. (Allow me to clarify that I am not complaining. The objective here isn't to incite comments about how it is "xx degrees hotter in Charlotte/Dallas/DC/Atlanta right now." I'm well aware. My point is not to illustrate how super badass tough I am for running in 85-degree weather, but rather to note how surprisingly easily I find my body adapting to it. I guess all those summers I spent wilting in the South did yield some benefits!) By halfway through the run around the familiar terrain of the Marblehead Neck (which, thankfully, is still running distance away from our new place in Salem--albeit long running distance) I could feel the week's accumulated mileage, neatly punctuated by yesterday's longest effort since February, descending full force upon my legs. The final 30 minutes weren't my most impressive, but I hung in and successfully finished the run--and the 100-mile week. I can't describe to you what an exhilarating, relieving feeling it is to have my old familiar legs back under me after struggling for almost a month and a half.

One week down, eight to go in the Summer of Malmo!

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NB Twilight 10k Fail

3+ mile w/u + strides
Target: 10k race @faster than 34:30
Actual: 5k in 17:22 + a few more laps, DNF
4 mile c/d
Total: 10 miles

On the one hand, I feel like I owe my tens of loyal readers a detailed and introspective recap of my (partial) race. On the other hand, we might as well just skip straight to the crux of the matter: I dropped out. To be more specific, I dropped out largely because of an increasingly sore foot. I noticed it in a vague, abstract sense early in the week, but it wasn't until Thursday when I realized that my level of discomfort had grown to the point where it needed to be addressed. So, in an uncharacteristically mature display of decision-making, I voluntarily skipped both my runs on Friday. Only then did I realize that this was, in fact, the first day I hadn't run since the week after the Trials, way back in January. So, foot not withstanding, one could argue that I was due for some rest. I slept soundly, feeling tentatively optimistic that everything would feel perfectly, magically normal come Saturday.

And, for the most part, it did. I embarked on a cautious 30-minute shakeout on Saturday morning and was pleasantly surprised to discover that nothing felt amiss. Ditto for my warmup with Jordan and Brett some eight hours later through the stunning(ly unattractive) streets of Lowell. But as the race progressed, so did the decidedly unpleasant pressure near the top of my metatarsal heads. At this point, had things been going swimmingly, I would've probably thrown caution to the wind, resolved to deal with the aftermath of my foot later, and allowed the wings of adrenaline to spirit me away to a well-deserved PR. Instead, I assessed the foot situation against the depressing reality that I was not, in fact, faring any better than at the Penn Relays three weeks ago, and made the split-second decision to pull the plug. I was able to do so before my foot completely exploded (a la Greek Fest 2010), but even that was small consolation given my high hopes coming into the race. To say that I would've crushed my PR had my foot not flared up would be a statement of blatant denial, which at this stage is beyond frustrating.

I think I'll be sticking to the roads for the foreseeable future.

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Harvard Track Mile Repeats

2.5 mile w/u + strides
Target: 6xmile @5:20 avg. w/2 mins. rest
Actual: 5:23, 5:24, 5:19, 5:19, 5:21, 5:21
2.5 mile c/d
Total: 11-11.5 miles

Just as Jordan and I were debating several undesirable options for our Wednesday track workout--Crack of dawn at the Village track? Push our limits with a two-hour lunch break? Wait until after work and race the sunset?--my inbox pinged with an email from Terry. Turns out one of the BAA workout groups would be doing 5xmile, which was almost identical to the 6xmile that Jordan had suggested for me. The decision was simple. Less than 24 hours later we hit the road from Beverly into Boston, Jordan's newly arrived mom in tow, hoping we could avoid rush hour traffic and drop her off at a coffee shop or some other pleasant diversion while still making it to the workout on time. Miraculously, all of the above happened relatively smoothly, and at 6am on the dot we were ready to rock and roll.

After a leisurely warmup and costume change, the group assembled on the track. It quickly became apparent that while there were several dozen other athletes preparing to work out, very few of them would actually be doing the exact same regimen as me. Specifically, Jordan would be assuming his standard role of queenmaker for me and Emily while Melissa jumped in and out for several 400-meter repeats, but other than that we were on our own. To be honest, that didn't make things all that much different than if we'd hung back and done the workout at home, but just feeling the group energy and positive buzz was enough to convince us we'd made the right decision by coming down.

For the first two intervals, everything felt ridiculously easy as Emily and I naturally fell into a single file line behind Jordan. Even from the early stages I could tell her breathing was labored--turns out she preferred to spend her recent European vacation frolicking around exotic locales and eating exotic pastries instead of slaving away at the banality of hitting mileage goals--but talent like hers doesn't go away overnight. Sticking close to my side, she and I both tucked in behind Jordan and let him set the metronomic pace. Once the splits dropped to sub-5:20 on interval #3, my comfort level immediately dissipated. As crazy as it sounds, 5:24 felt like an absolute jog while 5:19 immediately felt like a sprint. Emily, too, was tiring quickly, but gamely stuck around through interval #4 even after initially planning to drop after #3. She's so tough, and I know the time will come sooner than later when I'll be seeing nothing but her back during sessions like these.


With two intervals to go, it was down to Jordan and myself with Terry at the watch. The wind began to gain strength as the rain that had threatened finally began to fall in sharp, angry droplets. This was the point in the workout when I'd envisioned triumphantly surging ahead and powering away to sub-5:15 splits...instead, I struggled to hang on to something resembling 5:20. The final few laps were particularly ugly, and though those splits were nothing impressive I can assure you that I gave it everything I had.

Putting things in perspective, tonight's 5:21 average was identical to three weeks ago when Jordan led me through mile repeats on the Beverly High track, only tonight I did two more intervals and took a minute less rest between each. Though I was disappointed in my inability to close out today's workout with some faster splits, overall this effort was clearly superior to the previous one and indicative of my ever-increasing fitness. I hope this translates into a respectable performance at the New Balance Twilight 10k next weekend.

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Tempo and Track

2.5 mile w/u
Target: 4 mile progression starting @5:55; jog to track then 8x400m @75-77 w/60 secs. rest
Actual: 22:53/5:43.2 avg. (5:47, 5:45, 5:41, 5:40); ~5 min. rest/jog
8x400 @76, 75, 75, 75, 74, 74, 73, 72
2.5 mile c/d
Total: 11-12 miles

Another Saturday morning, another BAA workout at Harvard. Jordan and I were out the door early to make the 8am meeting time, arriving to the track with several minutes to spare. Our predominantly female group included Emily--fresh off a two-week vacation overseas and "fun run" at the London Marathon--Brett and Matt, Melissa Nash, Caitlin's friend Liz and several other BAA regulars. Conspicuously absent were Carly and Terry, who are off in Pennsylvania doing baby-related things. I was excited to have Jordan's pacing services and a solid group effort simultaneously, circumstances that haven't aligned in quite some time. I also felt a bit nervous about the mere 48-hour turnaround time after Thursday morning's 12x800 effort, but my legs felt light and surprisingly fresh enough on the warmup to banish any negative thoughts.

After a quick return to the cars for shoe changes, jacket removals and bathroom breaks, we trotted back over to our starting point on the Charles. Once again we would be traversing the "slow tempo loop," which today would be rendered more unfavorable due to the frequency and depth of mid-path puddles. On the flip side, the wind was uncharacteristically calm, the least obtrusive I've ever experienced on this loop, and though the air felt thick with humidity there were plenty of clouds to keep the temperature comfortable. Since our group naturally fell into two pace tiers, the plan was to give the first wave a 40-45 second head start before Jordan, Emily, Brett and I set out after them. Melissa, who is somewhat between the two groups, would start in the first wave and then latch onto us a few miles in. None of us were the slightest bit surprised that Terry had orchestrated this down to the minutest details even though he wasn't there in person.


Like clockwork, our two waves went off in succession, and I stuck to Jordan's side with Emily and Brett tucked in behind. My legs felt light and fast and the pace came easily. At one point Jordan admonished me to relax, but I didn't feel like I was pressing. Passing the first mile marker in 5:47 was a huge surprise--not only was it well ahead of goal pace, but it felt so easy. A quarter mile later we approached the first group, and true to plan Melissa latched on. It felt great to feed off the positive energy as we all encouraged each other. Mile two, always the slowest portion of the loop, came and went in another surprisingly quick split of 5:45. My legs were still feeling strong, and mentally I was relishing the fact that we were already halfway done. Maybe this short-distance business is better than marathon training! My legs began to fatigue as we split 5:41 on the traditionally quick third mile, but I knew I could keep my eyes glued to Jordan's back for another five minutes. The sound of Melissa's insistent footfalls close behind also motivated me to keep the pace honest. I focused on finishing with good, controlled form, knowing there was still more--and faster--running to be done. Jordan and I crossed the four-mile marker with Melissa right behind, then Emily, then everyone else in quick succession.

Several minutes and a short jog later, we were ready to take to the track. Melissa planned to join me for some of the 400s, while the other girls would go straight into a few k's of on/off 200s. Just as in the tempo, Melissa stuck close on my heels for the first four laps. After today's effort, I'm pretty sure she needs to permanently move up to the quicker tempo group! As for myself, I felt comfortable and strong through the first six, but then the post-tempo heaviness descended into my legs and quickly. Finishing the final two, I still felt strong but was decidedly relieved to call it a day instead of pushing to 10 as Jordan had originally suggested/threatened.


So, to be honest, this workout leaves me equal parts excited and perplexed. Excited because I was able to execute two of arguably my best workouts of the year in close proximity, but perplexed about why this obvious fitness hasn't translated to my most recent races. Mentally, I needed today and Thursday to get my confidence back on track. Physically, I'm trusting that these efforts will manifest themselves soon. Honestly, I think my races would go a lot better if I could enlist Jordan's queenmaking services like I do in workouts. Maybe he could just wear a feminine wig? Actually, given the fact that he shaves his legs and is currently sporting a mullet longer than Billie Jean King's, that might not be necessary.

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Harvard Track with the BAA

2+ mile w/u + strides
Target: 6-8x1k starting @3:25 and working down w/1:45 rest
Actual: 3:24, 3:23, 3:22, 3:21, 3:18, 3:17; 4x200m @~33
2+ mile c/d
Total: 10 miles

In a rare case of the stars aligning, I was able to leave work a few minutes early and join in on a BAA track practice. Last weekend Terry and I had floated the idea of trying to sync up a workout with Brett, and we were able to peer pressure Emily into joining us with relative ease. All day long I found my body humming with that familiar feeling of nervous excitement usually only experienced leading up to a late-night race; this time I attributed it to being both apprehensive about stepping onto the track, which I rarely do, and giddy over the prospect of doing so with other women, which probably hasn't happened since the last time Caitlin and I took to the oval at least a year ago. As the afternoon wore on, however, my nervousness morphed into being less about the task at hand and more about the impending weather. Sure enough, by the time I pulled up to the Harvard track a few minutes before 6:00, the wind had picked up to a brisk 20 mph and ominous clouds were beginning to block the sun.

As our group embarked on a slow warmup loop, it became apparent that despite my fervent hopes to the contrary the wind was going to be a significant factor. The Harvard track is completely exposed and breezy even on the calmest of days; this evening, the home stretch was so gusty it was almost comical. Fortunately, running a 1000-meter interval meant that we could intentionally stage the start and finish to have three straights with the wind at our backs and two with it in our faces; unfortunately both curves were windy enough that it was pretty much a wash. With three of us running together, the plan was to alternate leading one entire interval at a time, ideally limiting (and spacing out) the number of laps when each of us would have to face the gusts head-on. Even if this wouldn't make a huge difference physically, the mental reprieve was almost more important.

From the start, Brett got us settled in perfectly on pace. She's just a few weeks back into workouts after taking down time due to a hip injury, but from tonight's effort you would hardly know it. Similarly, Emily was attempting sub-6 minute pace for the first time since a mini-retirement last month, but of course fell into step seamlessly. We came through the finish line in 3:24, then had just enough time to jog the remaining 200 and shed our long sleeve layers before assembling for the start of interval two. This time it was my turn to lead, and I was blown away (pun acknowledged) by how much more noticeable the wind was from this vantage point. Emily took us through the third rep significantly quicker thanks to a 77-second first lap (during which she apparently construed my "settle down, Em" comment to actually mean quite the opposite), and we continued to hit the desired splits for our target progression. All the while the sky continued to darken and the winds swirled ever stronger, making it hard to hear Terry calling out our 800 splits despite passing within only a few meters of him. By the start of the sixth interval I think each of us were convinced this would be our last repeat at this distance, though none of us said so. Emily solidified it by taking things out hard and distancing herself by at least five meters on the second lap, by the end of which we were all simply tired of battling the weather.

Looking to Terry for guidance, he suggested we do some on/off 200s to get in a bit more speed and distance while letting the wind help us along for a change. I expected each "on" split to be somewhere around 36, but instead the tailwind propelled me forward at a much quicker pace. I surprised myself by feeling faster and stronger during these short segments than any time in recent memory--and, honestly, I could've gone faster had the goal been to run all out as opposed to just opening up the legs. Physically and mentally, this was undoubtedly a more encouraging way to close the workout than battling through two more 1000s.

In short, despite the adverse conditions I'm really glad I made the trip into the city. I can't guarantee I'll be able to come every Wednesday, but I want to make a conscious effort to join at least a few times a month when my work and travel schedule permits. The teamwork and comradery of a group effort such as this is something I haven't been a part of in a long time. It definitely made what would've been a frustrating effort into something rewarding and enjoyable.

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Week in Review/Weekend Review

90 miles
4 doubles
7 days at home (!!)
16 miles with Jay
4 AFDs

All week long I'd been waffling about my plans for a Saturday workout. I briefly entertained the idea of doing a four-miler with prize money, but the relatively small purse in relation to the amount of driving required made my ambition wane with each passing day. Similarly, a solo hard effort on one of the same loops I do every single morning held little appeal. Then I received a passing message from Jay saying that he and Josh (two of the three J's, for those of you who remember my male escorts from last weekend's half-marathon) and another friend from NYC were contemplating a whirlwind trip to Boston to check out the race course. Naturally I jotted down a quick email to Terry, and naturally he wrote back with minute-by-minute bulletpoints of exactly how everything was going to go down. I'm learning to expect nothing less from this master logician--I'm not sure if that's a word, but in my mind it means a magician of logistics, which is precisely what he is--but he then proceeded to go above and beyond by not only planning their entire trip, but facilitating it. He offered to pick them up from the train station, drive them midway down the course, drop them off, park the car farther toward the city, run a few miles with them to talk race strategy, then pick them up at the finish line. With such an overwhelming outpouring of generosity from someone who didn't even know them, I felt like the least I could do was join in on the action. The fact that this offered me a convenient excuse for avoiding the previously outlined workout options was just a bonus.

That said, I still harbored some intentions of tempoing part of the run. In the end, that idea sort of fell to pieces thanks to the weather--drizzly, at times sleety and into a direct headwind--and the brisk pace established practically from the outset. Though Jay insisted that all three of the boys were looking for a "really easy run," I suppose the excitement and emotions of the course got the best of them. After an initial mile hovering around the 7-minute mark we immediately dropped into the 6:40s. It wasn't difficult, but I knew it wasn't exactly 7:30 pace either. After eight miles of this comfortably hard running I attempted to launch into an uptempo section, only to split a rather underwhelming 11:45 for two miles (one of which was considerably downhill). About 400 meters into my half-hearted third mile I encountered the one tricky interstate crossing on the entire marathon course, and several frustrating stop-and-go minutes were all I needed to pull the plug on the entire thing. Less than a minute later I ran into Terry coming from the other direction, so we turned around and jogged back to the rest of the guys before soldiering on together to the Newton hills. From this point onward I felt pretty horrendous and almost got dropped several times on Heartbreak--although it does make me feel better to subsequently learn that we split sub-6:30 on this extremely tough mile--and when I had the choice a mile later to either stop at the car with Terry or continue on to the finish line, I didn't hesitate. I'd covered almost 16.5 miles in 1:48, quick enough to count for something even if it wasn't quite the "workout" I'd envisioned. Even better, of course, was the chance to spend time with Terry and Jay and his friends and relish some of the exhilaration that is Boston in marathon month, even when it is a cold and soggy and entirely unromantic day.

Sunday, in contrast, dawned beautifully sunny and clear. After dropping Jordan at the airport for his weeklong trip to the Carolinas, I traveled back in the same direction I'd come from the previous day to meet some of my BAA friends for a group run starting at Brett's house in Natick. She and Matt live steps away from some great soft surface options that weave through Natick and Wellesley and the surrounding areas, and the miles fell away easily thanks to the easy chatter and group comradery. At the 90 minute mark Matt split back for the house with Jenn and Justin, which left Brett, Carly, Emily and I with a beautiful and scenic wooded loop around historic Wellesley College. As we passed within yards of where the marathon course will cross in just two weeks time, it was utterly impossible to imagine this quiet reverence shattered by hundreds of screaming voices and cacophonous shouts. I guess it's one of those things you can't truly imagine until you witness it. Today the only voices heard were ours as we trotted together back to Brett's house. For the next few hours we over-ate a delicious homemade breakfast (most of us), drank fancy beer (only some of us) and had a great time socializing (all of us). As per usual, this is my favorite part of the Sunday long run!

Looking back on this week as a whole, I only logged a few more miles than last week, this time on 11 runs instead of eight. There was no great strategy involved there--although I'd be interested in hearing the arguments from either side on why one approach is better than the other--rather, I was just following the mandates of my schedule. Last week I was traveling and working long hours but with later start times, while this week I was back in the typical office routine of early mornings and relatively early evenings. I had plenty of time to double at night, so I did. Next week promises more of the same uneventfulness (not that I'm complaining!), so I'll likely adopt a similar schedule. I continue to feel stronger and fitter every day, which means I just need to keep doing what I'm doing!

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