Redefining My Limits!

I started training with elite marathoner Justin Gillette on July 1, 2013.  The past 10 weeks have been very eye opening! 

The top 20 things I’ve learned from training with Justin Gillette these past 10 weeks:

1.       I’ve learned to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. 

2.      I’ve learned that sixteen 400’s won’t kill me.

3.      I’ve learned that the first mile repeat is always the hardest and slowest. 

4.      I’ve learned that you can add quality minutes and miles into your long runs instead of just long, slow distance runs. 

5.      I’ve learned that about 40 miles a week is the fine line between overtraining and training just enough…. for me, anyway.

6.      I’ve learned that preparation for a 20-miler is 90% mental.

7.      I’ve learned that I don’t want to disappoint my coach by not hitting the paces he has assigned.

8.      I’ve learned that I don’t want to disappoint myself as well. 

9.      I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I thought I was.

10.   I’ve learned that having a coach means that no thinking is required.  Read the training plan and just do it.  Thank you, Nike, I finally get it.

11.    I’ve learned that elite marathoners are people, too.

12.   I’ve learned that while I thought he had too much faith in my abilities when I first saw the training plan, I just had too little.

13.   I’ve learned that getting the training run in is more important than laundry but less important than my kid’s soccer game.

14.   I’ve learned that sometimes I have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to make it all work. 

15.   I’ve learned that much of running really is mental.  If your brain tells your legs to run faster, they usually will.

16.   I’ve learned that I feel equal parts crazy person and badass when starting a 20-miler before dawn.

17.   I’ve learned that earning praise from your coach goes a LONG way. 

18.   I’ve learned that if you run in the evening and are heading back out the next morning, showering is optional.  (The husband may not agree….)

19.   I’ve learned that I have the ability to embrace suffering and finish a workout, even when I’m not feeling it.

20.  I’ve learned that redefining my limits is money well spent.

Obsession? Devotion? Addiction?

I can’t explain it.

Where does this relentless need inside of me to run far, to test my limits, to fully and completely exhaust myself come from??   It seemed to materialize out of nowhere. 

I grew up obsessed with academics, not athletics.

My family members worked and worked hard, but never “worked out.”

I was a teacher and a wife and then a stay-at-home mother, not an athlete. 

But six years ago, something clicked.  That first mile run changed me, and quickly became 3, then 6, then 13, then 26.   Soon I had to know what it felt like beyond 26.  Now, I know how 31 and 38 feel.  Honestly, not that much worse.  As ultramarathoner Ann Trason says, “It hurts up to a point, and then it doesn’t get any worse.”   I want to experience 40 miles, 50 miles, and probably someday, I’ll want to run 100.  (Which is a really ridiculous premise when you think about it.)

This drive to run defines me.  When I run into friends at the grocery store, “Are you still running?” or “What are you training for?” are the first questions, even before, “How are Chris and the kids?”  People mainly try to relate to me through running.  It makes me feel a bit one-dimensional at times.   I posted a picture on Facebook that said, “Running isn’t my life, it just enriches and enhances the life I have.”  A good friend (who is also very honest) replied, “You sure about that?” 

At my twenty-five year high school reunion last weekend, a friend asked, “So how many miles did you run today before you came here?”  (The answer was 14.)   Another one told me that of everyone in our senior class, I was the last one she’d have picked to be running marathons in my 40’s.  I laughed and had to agree. 

Speaking of the 40’s, next week is my birthday.  Not a major one, no new age group or anything.  I am patiently waiting for that 45^th one though, because then I can fathom the remote possibility of qualifying for Boston (I would still have a LONG way to go pace wise…. I mean a really, really LONG way to go). 

For now, I’ll just accept my little running obsession.  It has grown to be an inherent part of me, part of my soul.  I have an intense need to be outdoors, to move, to feel the sun on my face and the ground under my feet.  I have to set goals and fight to achieve them to feel complete. I pray that my priorities aren’t too skewed, that I’m not neglecting the things that matter for this thing that drives me.  Right now, I'm trying to find that happy medium, to strike a balance.   Work. In. Progress. 

 

20 Miles with a Stranger: Loonies Midnight Marathon Race Report

Last Friday night/Saturday morning, I ran the Loonies Midnight Marathon. The race was in a tiny little town called Livingston, TN about two and a half hours away.  Coach Justin had me run it as a training run only, not a race.  I had already run 40 minutes on Monday, strength trained/run 2 miles on Tuesday, done an extremely difficult speed workout of 7 miles on Wednesday, then run 5 miles on Thursday.   I had already had a FULL week of running by the time Friday rolled around.  This is not the way I usually taper for a race!  I guess, technically, I did have a rest day on Friday, but my legs were anything but "fresh."

I went down to Cookeville, TN, late on Friday afternoon, checked into a hotel, and met some Run It Fast Club people for dinner.  It was a really nice group, and I met four or five new people.  (I'm in the green shorts near center.)

 Then I went back to my room to relax for a little while and dress in VERY bright, reflective attire.  At 10:00 p.m., I headed to the race start, about 25 minutes away.  It felt strange to leave for a race at 10 at night!

The race got a bit of a late start.  Around 12:05 a.m., we sang the National Anthem.  We had a pre-race prayer.  Then we listened to a bagpipe rendition of "Amazing Grace" in honor of those lost and injured at the Boston Marathon.  Then we sang "Sweet Caroline," a Boston tradition.  That was pretty fun.  Finally, near 12:15 a.m., we started.

The race began with the firing of several muskets.  We started with a 1.2 mile loop that brought us right back to the start.  I ran alone for most of the 1.2 mile loop--kind of behind a big group of people and ahead of a big group of people.  I kept finding myself at a 10:10-20 pace, which I knew was a little fast.  I tried to slow it down a bit.    Near the end of it, my friend Clark from RIF and his dad caught up to and then passed me.  We chatted briefly.  Then it was time to start the first of my five 5-mile loops.  

That first loop was LONELY.  I found myself running solo again.  It was all a little surreal:  here I was in the middle of the night running through this sleepy little town I'd never seen before, past dark houses, down quiet back streets, up hills and down hills in silence, in darkness, in humidity so thick, it hung as a dense fog all around.   I was following reflective spray paint or volunteers' instructions to make the many, many turns as there wasn't anyone in view in front of me.   Once I heard a man huffing and puffing and coming up to me from behind, and it was almost eerie.  He passed me and then led us the wrong way briefly at a confusing intersection, but a policeman talking on his cell phone happened to notice and correct us.   Other than the runners and volunteers, the city felt a bit deserted.  There was a guy picking a banjo at one intersection.  There was one local sitting on his front steps spraying a hose into the air for us to run through.  There was another local just sitting in a lawn chair.  When I thanked him for being out, he just giggled.  I think his cigarette might have been of the herbal variety. 

After completing my first loop at a 10:40 pace, I noticed a young man walking for a second just ahead.  He started running right before I pulled up alongside him, never even noticing me.   I hung back just behind his right shoulder--DRAFTING!  It was so nice to not be alone anymore, to not have to think, "Am I going the right way?  Where is everybody??"  I just followed his lead.  Sometimes on an uphill, I'd pull up beside or even ahead of him, but then on the downhill, he'd pass me back up, but just a little.  It felt like we were racing!    Finally, after about 2 miles of this, I initiated conversation.  "I've never drafted anyone before.  I hope you don't mind!"   Then for the next 18 miles, we talked.  And talked.  And supported one another.  And encouraged one another.  And shared suffering. 

I'm terrible at guessing age, and I was surprised to learn Tim was only 27 years old.  A quick calculation told me I was old enough to be his mother, technically.  (I'm 42.)  He'd been running marathons since the age of 18, which is pretty amazing.   What would a 42-year old and a 27-year old talk about for four hours?  Tons!   We talked about races, running, family, teaching, coaching, his girlfriend, and more.   He is an 8th grade math teacher in Houston.  I was an 8th grade English teacher when I was his age.  He's a running coach.  I'm a running coach.   We just found plenty of common ground.  The miles passed wonderfully.  Once, he had to stop to go to the bathroom, and so did I.  He finished before me and WAITED for me.   I kept telling him to run on if he needed to, but he didn't want to.   So, we stuck it out.  For a total of 20 miles.   It saved my race!

We had run loop 2 a little fast, and that as well as my miles earlier in the week started to catch up to me in loop 4--around mile 18 or 19.  Tim was feeling tired, too, having run a marathon the weekend before and hiked 30+ miles in the Smoky Mountains all week.  He estimated at that point we could run 12- minute miles and still finish under 5 hours.  We were relieved as we were getting tired.  Then we clocked a 12:15 mile.  Oops!  Too relaxed!!  We had started walking the three biggest hills and through the water stops.  Maybe we dawdled a little too long at one of them.  After that, we were all about finishing under 5 hours.  We were determined afresh.  Focused.  It was time to start to dig.

By the time we started loop 5, the final loop, my legs were very tired and I was losing the mental game.  I half hoped he'd go on ahead, so I could walk a lot more often.  But he didn't, so I didn't.   He would only let us walk certain hills, and then only after we reached a point about 1/3 up.   I had to turn on my music at around mile 21, and that helped energize me a bit.  I felt like he was carrying me along, but it was actually pretty mutual.  His Achilles started bothering him badly around mile 23, and I was feeling ok.  It was my turn to be the pacer, then encourager.   We brought it home to the finish.  I ran hard at the finish line, thinking he was with me, but actually finished before him by several seconds.  I was sure he'd finish beside me, but he just didn't want to sprint with that Achilles.   I gave him a really sweaty hug at the finish and told him I could not have run a 4:57:04 alone.   I know without my buddy, I would not have broken 5 hours on those tired legs.   I would have walked much, much more.  But I had it in me all the time.

Sometimes the mental game is the hardest game of all.

I saw young Tim just once after the finish. He was getting in his car to drive back to Houston.  I wished him well.  I'm sure I'll never see my friend again, but I hope he knows how much he helped me.  Throughout the race, the running community supported one another.  I tried to say something encouraging each time I saw a runner I knew (I knew about 15 on the course), and many of them encouraged me.   That is the beauty of running.

Twenty miles with a stranger?  Not strange at all. 

Marathon/ultramarathon #10 in the bag. 

When Opportunity Knocks

Several months ago, I was perusing Runner's World magazine and came across a tidbit about a marathoner named Justin Gillette, who had won a whole bunch of marathons.   I randomly sent him a Facebook friend request, and to my surprise, he accepted it.  We actually chatted about running that very day.  I thought, "Wow, that's weird.  I just had a conversation with an elite marathoner.  That just doesn't happen."  He's actually ranked 5th in the world in marathon wins, having won 64 races. 

After seeing his Facebook posts a few times, I realized he was not just an elite marathoner, but a running coach as well.  I'm also a certified running coach, and I've been living by the mantra, "Coach Thyself" for quite a while.  Why would I PAY someone to coach me when I know all the ingredients that should go into a training plan?  I have the books Run Less, Run Faster, Hal Higdon's Guide to Running a Marathon, and a few others.  Plus, I can get online training plans for free on the Runner's World website or just from the magazine.  So, for a while, I just wrote my own plans or loosely followed plans from books or websites.  I made progress.  I PR'd at every distance in one calendar year except the marathon.  The next year, I trained aggressively for the 2012 Kentucky Derby Marathon in hopes of beating 4:45, and ran 4:36, a significant PR. 

But since then, progress has stalled.  I decided to focus on running FAR for a while instead of fast.  I ran miles and miles of trails and two very slow trail marathons.  I ran two ultras.  I ran a marathon just for fun and got injured (unfortunately).  The injury further derailed progress.  After eight weeks off, it was as if I was starting from scratch. 

So, enter that particular issue of Runner's World, and one random friend request.   I was coming off that injury at the time, but one day I messaged Justin about coaching me.  I wanted to know if he coached "regular people" like a slow-running, forty-something mom of three who had only been running for 5.5 years.  Turns out, he did!   He also coaches some pretty elite athletes, as well.

I waited until I was fully healed from my injury and requested the start day of July 1.  I did a few races for fun because I knew my running was about to get serious.  I took on two personal training clients to help defray some of the cost of paying a coach monthly.  And I simultaneously dreaded/looked forward to the starting day.  

Last week was my first week.  What I found was that training with a coach might be the missing puzzle piece in my running.   The workouts challenge me much more that I challenge me.  The long runs have quality miles sandwiched in the middle-- what??   I get daily feedback on my training log, giving me the benefit I think I enjoy most-- accountability.   My plan might say, "I want you to run 2 miles at a 9:55 pace, then two at a 9:09 pace or better."    After the workout, I have to report back that I either did it, didn't do it, or couldn't do it.   There is an element of not only disappointing myself by not digging deep, but also of disappointing my coach.   I'm one of those people-pleasers, so I, of course, hate disappointing others.  (I dissappoint myself, however, regularly!  Ha!)

I can dig deep to finish a trail marathon in blazing June heat when my legs are just done and my knees and feet hurt.  I can dig deep to finish 38.5 miles in an ultra when I just want to SIT DOWN and get off my blisters... I mean, feet.  Persistence and determination and relentless forward progress-- I have in abundance.  But dig deep and hit an 8:00 minute pace?  Hard for me.  I struggle to find that gear.  Sub-8?  Something had better be chasing me.

I was actually embarrased to report back some of my paces last week on the "easy runs."  I know they look so slow.   But my legs came back to life mid-week, and  I rocked the Saturday hard long run.  I was really proud of myself.  I ran HARD.   I love it when I feel that way as a runner.   Too often lately, I've tasted disappointment on the roads and trails.   This is a  nice change.  I know I won't hit my goal paces in every workout, but I think I will at least enjoy HAVING A GOAL. 

When opportunity knocks and you have the chance to work with an elite marathoner, an experienced coach, and an all-around nice guy, you have to open the door.  :-)

Finding Joy in the Suffering: A Review of The Summit Seeker

Do you have an ultramarathon inside you?   As runners, we conquer distance after distance--5K's, 10K's, move on to half marathons, then marathons.  We chase PRs and hope our next, flatter road marathon is faster than our last.  However, there is a path less traveled, a whole WORLD outside of road running. 

If you are an endurance runner of any distance, I highly recommend you read The Summit Seeker by Vanessa Runs.  You WILL be inspired.

Reading the Introduction, I immediately knew I'd found a kindred soul.  Vanessa writes, "I'm someone who's life changed through ultra trail running.  These are the stories of how running restored me, how it shifted my perspective, and how it healed my wounds."  She hopes to inspire runners to "run more trails, or try an ultra.  Or to just let the quiet beauty of getting lost on the side of a mountain supersede the urgency of PRs and race stats." 

In the first part of the book, Vanessa shares her life with us in a raw, open way--her difficult childhood, failed relationships.   Personal turmoil leads to running, in which she finds her true self.  She quotes Haruki Murakami saying, "A person doesn't become a runner because someone recommends it.  People basically become runners because they're meant to."   I think that statement resonates with all runners. 

The stories chronicle Vanessa's immersion into the world of running from 5K's to ultramarathons.  I particularly enjoyed these insights:

The fitness and running world encourage us to improve our weaknesses.  There is some wisdom to this, but we should be putting the same amount of effort, or more, into developing our strengths.  I learned early on in my running career that I was not fast.  But I seemed to have a good endurance base.  So instead of developing speed, I ran longer. 

The ultra distance is an amazing thing.  I told my sister:  "No matter what has happened in your life before, or what will happen in your future, nobody can ever take that ultra away from you.  When you're an ultrarunner, you're a runner forever." 

And probably my favorite:

As a friend once told me, we need people to run 100 miles just as we need people who can sing above an orchestra, or who can paint a masterpiece.  It proves to us the wonder and versatility of humanity, and reminds us that as a species we are capable of extraordinary feats.   And we need an army of runners who can move swiftly with no purpose.  Who seek out trails that lead to nowhere.  Who scale mountains just to see the other side.  More importantly, we need things in our lives that we don't have to rationalize.  Things we can just love recklessly.  And we need to stop asking why. 

Vanessa makes a 100-miler seem attainable for all:  "One hundred miles is just ground and earth and mud and space.  It is all the things we already know, and it belongs to all of us.  We can walk it, we can run it, and with enough time we can cover it.  It's public domain."  

In running her second 100-miler, the Javelina Jundred, Vanessa has an epiphany about the inevitable suffering that comes along with any long distance:  "I decided that I would be grateful for my 100-mile suffering.  I am lucky because this is a suffering that I choose.  It is not suffering I cannot control.  It is something I picked and even paid for.  It was my choice, and for that reason far easier to bear....  My mantra for the rest of the race became 'I chose this.'  It reminded me to bear my suffering with joy.  And for the entire race, joy was what I found."

Inspired yet?  I know I am.  Pick up a copy on www.amazon.com today!

Backass Jackal Trail Marathon Race Report-- Marathon #7 and Maniac Status

Sunday, June 23 dawned hot and humid in Jackson, Tennessee.  The day started warm in the 70's and rose to around 90, with humidity at the 80%+ mark for parts of the race---very difficult conditions. 

Arriving at the race site at about 6:15 a.m., I had to drag my chair, cooler, and drop bag about 1/6 of a mile to the trail head-- through a parking lot, across a four-lane highway, up a steep grassy knoll, then down the trail a few yards.  That was a workout in itself!  (Luckily, nice fellow runners helped me with some of my junk.)

This was a very low-key Run It Fast Club event (also open to the public) with only 19 runners, no port-o-johns, no chip timing,and no finish line pizza and music---just people who love running and love the outdoors.  It was day 2 of a four-day series called the Jackal Marathons.  Day 1 was seven loops in one direction on a 3.75 mile trail, day 2 was seven loops backwards (or "backassed" as the race director would say), day 3 was in a nearby Pinson Mounds State Park on pavement, and day 4 was also paved in that park.  Some extreme runners did all four days--the "quadzilla."  I have the utmost respect for them, but I don't envy them one bit!  That's the thing about the Run It Fast Club--so many of them do these AMAZING things-- running a marathon every weekend (or two), running a marathon and an ultra in the same weekend, running four marathons in four days, finishing three or four 100 milers a year, running the Vol State 500K (yes 500K--300 miles!) in the South in July.  This group makes me feel like I can accomplish MORE, like I want to see just how far I can go and push my limits.   They are endorphin junkies, endurance addicts, and the most inspiring, encouraging, and passionate group of runners I have ever met.  (Anyone can join!  Go to www.runitfast.com.  It's an international running club--no qualifications to meet, just be prepared to be motivated to accomplish GREAT things.)  I'm in the pink calf sleeves in a sassy pose.  (I have no idea why.)

The RD gave us some instructions (don't cross the flour on the ground--that's the wrong way!), we had a pre-race prayer (nice touch), and the 13 men and 6 women began the race.   I started out on the first loop kind of in the middle of the pack (where I did not belong).  A runner named Anthony and I ran that 3.75 mile loop together.  He had run the day before and knew the trail well.   I was running fairly easy and was able to hold a conversation, but even so, my heart rate quickly climbed high.  Soon, the hills and heat and what I thought was a gentle pace had me breathing harder than I should have been in the first four miles of a marathon.  Now I realize the pace was just a bit too fast for me.   But I was glad to have a buddy with me on the first loop nevertheless! 

In the second loop, Anthony went ahead and I began a VERY long journey alone.  For the remainder of the 26.2, I ran solo, except for a few seconds here or there with someone passing me (lapping me!) or coming toward me on an out-and-back pond loop.  There were times I could have tried to stick with someone and chat for a while, but I knew I needed to run MY pace, walk when I wanted/needed to walk, and enjoy the woods by myself.  Just like in the last trail marathon, I spent a ton of time alone in my thoughts, experiencing the journey on my terms.   I like that.   My heart rate and breathing finally calmed down in lap 3.  I guess my body was slow to adapt.

There was a certain paranoia that I would miss a turn or step on a snake or break a leg, and I didn't have my cell phone, but with a 3.75 mile loop, no one is ever all that far away.   There were some short, extremely steep uphills (like climbing a step ladder) and a couple of long inclines, but also some nice flat portions.  There was at least one downhill that was so steep, it was not runnable.  I carefully stepped my way down it all seven times. 

My laps alternated being good and bad.  Lap 1 was good, but in lap 2, I didn't feel well at all.  I had nausea and my heart rate was soaring.  I was concerned that I'd be a DNF.  There had been 3 DNF's the day before, out of 25 runners, due to the heat.  In lap 3, I rallied and felt better.  The nausea subsided.  In lap 4, I was just tired.  I think lap 5 was a good one, but lap 6 wasn't.  (It's kind of a blur.)  I had listened to music in laps 3, 4, and 5, but then my MP3 died.   Finishing lap 4 or 5 here:  (enhanced)   Yes, I ran in my sports bra part of the time.  Not to be a hussy, but good grief, it was HOT.

Finally, I started on lap 7.  Many in the race had already finished by the time I was starting my final lap.  I had a huge adrenaline surge knowing that I was on my last loop.  As I ran, I played silly games.  I said goodbye to all the things I had passed over and over.   "Goodbye, tall grass."   "Goodbye, red door randomly laying in the woods."  "Goodbye pond loop, my least favorite part of the race."   I felt a sort of nostalgia on that last loop because I may never run this trail again, and I had spent the better part of the day making friends with it.  It sounds weird, but you become one with the trail in races like this.  It because almost like a living, breathing creature.  Speaking of living, breathing creatures, I had a too-close encounter with a huge deer in lap 6.   He was as tall as my shoulder.  I came around a corner and startled him.  He saw me, snorted loudly, and bounded a few steps away.  Then he stopped, and turned and looked at me defiantly.   I know it scared us BOTH!   I was thinking, "Do deer attack??"   Other than that, I saw a tiny tarantula-looking spider, but no snakes.  Another runner reported that he saw a huge one on the trail (not really helpful to know that...).   Several times, I heard something rustling in the leaves just off the trail, but I never stuck around to investigate!

I started my last loop with 5:36 on the clock.  I was sure I could come in by 6:36.  All my loops had been between 45 minutes (first one) and 59 minutes.   I know that sounds painfully slow, but the conditions were TOUGH, and I'm just not a strong trail runner or hiker.  My trail pace is 12:30 on a good day, and my hiking pace is more like 16-18 minute mile.   However, I was feeling surprisingly good starting that loop.  I started playing the STEP-COUNTING game.     I could walk the worst parts of the trail, but if there was a runnable portion, I had to run, and run at least 70 steps.  Why 70?  I have no idea.  I had to run between 70 and 200 steps nonstop each time I ran.   I zipped fairly quickly through the first 1.5 miles of the last loop that way.  I was actually having fun.   The first loop and the first part of the last loop turned out to be my favorite parts of the day!  Selfie at start of loop 7.  I had grabbed my phone since there were only 4 or 5 of us left on the trail: 

Then some things went wrong, and I stopped enjoying the race quite so much.  I wound up walking the last two miles.  The blisters on the bottoms of my feet hurt, both knees were hurting, and I was emotionally done.  I was feeling a little nauseous again, and I was ready to be finished.  I HATE that the race ended on a bad note.   I crossed the finish line at 6:43, but there was no joy on my face.  (Walking less, I have no doubt I would have made my 6:36 goal, but my B. Goal was 6:48, so at least I beat that.)   Not a happy face:

Trail marathons are hard.  However, a day in the woods is still a blessing. 

 

I realized the night before the race that I would qualify for Marathon Maniacs if I completed the marathon-  two trail marathons and an ultra in 90 days.   None on pavement.   I'm not sure if I'll join.

Recovery is going great except for my right ankle.  I tripped a total of 9 times and lightly rolled my right ankle inward somewhere in middle of the race.   The tendon on the top of my foot feels a bit strained and that ankle is stills sore.  Quads, calves, hamstrings, knees---everything else is fine.  Thank goodness! 

Bad Decisions Make the Best Stories

I read a quote recently, "Bad decisions make the best stories."   I've got some pretty good stories!  I hope this weekend isn't one of them.   I recently signed up for a trail marathon on a whim.  It is a Run It Fast Club event.  It is cheap, relatively close by, and involved cool people.  How could I not?

The Backass Jackal Trail Marathon in Jackson, TN only has 25 participants-- and only 3 or 4 of them are women!   It is basically self-supported, no port-o-John, and a relatively easy trail, technically speaking.   We will repeat a 3.75 mile loop until we hit 26.2.

I hope to do a little better than the last mudfest of a marathon.  7:08 or some ridiculous time.  Pouring rain.  Standing water.  Mud, mud, and then more mud! Resorting to crawling up a slippery incline.  Woefully undertrained.  This time, I've got a 27-mile trail run (the aforementioned marathon where I got slightly lost), a bunch of trail four milers, and an, ahem, ultra marathon of 38.5 miles under my belt.  Oh, and comfortable trail shoes, finally!

So what am I worried about???  Oh, a little thing called the heat index of 100 at noon (the 5 hour mark) and 103 at 1:00 pm, when I will likely (hopefully?)  finish.

The key is to run smart (I'm not known for that), hydrate, fuel, and not push too hard.  Maybe someday, I will see what I can  really do on a trail.

After Backass, I get to start training with elite marathoner Justin Gillette.  That is scary and exciting at the same time!  Coach Justin has me running six days a week.  That will be a new experience.  Then, in July I will run the Loonies Midnight Marathon for fun (and because I'm a little loony).  I kind of dig these night runs!