2017 Boston Marathon

Marathon weekend was pretty epic this year. It was also Easter weekend and Phoebe's half-birthday, which she claims is super important. You're only seven-and-a-half once. My parents drove in from Ohio on Friday. The kids were so excited that they kept asking all day, "How much longer until grandma and grandpa get here?" It was the reversal of the usual, "Are we there yet?" that I hear in the car on our long drives to Ohio. One of my besties, Anika, flew into Boston on Saturday. We were cross country and track teammates at BYU, roommates for a few years, and running partners at Boston a few years ago. Anika is a fast-talking New Yorker, often breaks into song while running, has six hilarious kids and a zillion funny stories about them, and is just super-fun to run with. We both trained with the goal of running under three hours and we hoped to run together.

 On Saturday we picked up our bib numbers from the marathon expo. I also got the opportunity to be a panelist in a "Run your best Boston" seminar. I mostly talked about the course, but also gave tips on avoiding the mobs of kissing girls at Wellesley and using proper running form on the hills.

 Everyone was freaking out about the weather, so someone asked the panelists how our strategy would change with the heat. I gave some awful "just go for it" advice mostly because I didn't want to believe it was going to be that bad. Forecasts throughout the week predicted Marathon Monday would be in the mid-60s, so I didn't think it'd be too bad...

 ...but Marathon Monday came and it was warm. Sunday was in the 80s and it didn't cool off much over night, so Monday morning we headed out the door without much on and we were fine (not a good sign!). We took the train downtown, dropped our gear bags near the finish line, hopped on the bus to Hopkinton, and hung out in the Athlete's Village with thousands of other runners. We eventually made our way to the starting line. Anika and I were placed in the same "first wave" of runners, but were assigned to different corrals. Anika moved back to mine so we could run together. We were in the very back of about 8,000 other runners, so when the gun went off it took us about three minutes to actually cross the starting line. We were sweating in the first mile and by then knew it was going to be a warm one, so we ran conservatively. We went with the flow of runners, trying not to dart around groups from side to side too much. It was so much fun running with Anika, chatting and singing. We drank lots and lots of water and Gatorade and miraculously stayed together even through the crowded fluid stations. We came through the halfway mark at 1:31 and felt good. Around mile 15, we spotted a runner ahead that looked like a teammate of ours from BYU. Courtney was a senior when we were freshmen and we recognized the bouncy stride. We caught up with her around mile 16 and she informed us that she was just "taking it easy." We know better though; we are a competitive bunch and Courtney is one of the most fiery competitors we know. We ran through the Newton hills together, finally coming upon this bunch:

 They waited at mile 19 for hours along with my parents (my dad took all these pictures) and friends from church. When I ran by, I almost missed them altogether.

 Here I come for some high-fives...

 That's Anika in the white shirt in front of me and Courtney in the white tank and red shorts behind me. I wanted to high-five all the kids, but they weren't all lined up conveniently and I was worried I was going to lose my running buddies.

 So I grabbed a waterbottle Scott threw at me and kept going, blowing a kiss on the way. Despite this, our group got separated about a mile later on a hill after a fluid station. We had a backup plan and it didn't involve slowing down (it was called see-you-at-home), so when I crested the final big hill and felt good I let loose on the downhill. I felt really good through about mile 24, then felt the exhaustion setting in. Still, I never hit a wall. I didn't have much of a sprint though. Right as I turned on Boylston Street for the final quarter-mile, Courtney sprinted past me. "I just wanted to get it over with faster," she said afterward. I finished in 3:03:54 and Anika finished about 10 seconds later.

 Victory! We grabbed our gear bags and Anika and Courtney chatted while I laid on the ground for a few minutes and caught my breath. We waddled to the train and got the royal treatment: Scott picked us up at the train station close to home so we didn't have to waddle the last half-mile. After a shower and a massage, we celebrated with Thai food and then took Anika to the airport. We are already plotting our next reunion, hoping to get our other roommates there next time.

 And now for the other highlights of the weekend. Phoebe had soccer practice on Saturday morning. She is super intense on the field.

 And so so fearless. After her game, she dumped an entire waterbottle over her head.

We also had an egg hunt on Saturday. We hid eggs in the park and let the kids find them. I was wondering if Bruce would be too old for egg hunts now, but no he is not. He ran around like a wild child just the same as ever. Oliver and Bruce have birthdays next month: Bruce will be 12!!!! And Oliver will be 4. Time to start party planning...

I'm also planning out what I'll be running next. I'm thinking about running a trail 50K in June, then marathon training while racing shorter distances in July, August, and September before running the Hartford Marathon in October. I ran my PR at Hartford in 2006 and it's time for a return - and hopefully a PR or close to it. I am older but I am stronger and more experienced. I really think I just need the right day to PR again. Hopefully that day will be October 14.

Boston 2016

Marathon weekend began on Friday with a trip to the expo to pick up my bib number. I dropped the kids off at school and took Oliver in the stroller to the expo downtown. He was excited about riding the train, but not as jazzed about waiting in line to pick up my bib number. I didn't walk around the expo this year; it's not nearly as fun with a kid in a stroller and I wanted to stay off my feet as much as possible, so we headed home and scrubbed bathrooms and did laundry and such to prep for hosting people.

My big sis Janis and her husband (also named Scott) flew in Friday afternoon. One of my BYU cross country and track teammates, Sherida, flew in that night. Sherida actually transferred to Boston University from BYU her final year because her husband entered dental school here. She was here and in my ward when Scott and I first moved to Boston 12 years ago, so we have lots of good memories and she had a bucket list of Boston things to do (again!). Anyway, my sister and husband got the futon in the living room and Sherida got Phoebe's bed, so we all squeezed in our place for marathon weekend.

I warned everyone that I would be a bad host. If they wanted to walk the Freedom Trail, good for them but I wasn't going to be a good entertainer. So Janis and Scott and Sherida went about their Boston bucket lists on Saturday and Sunday and I went about my usual business: babysitting friends' kids, cooking, more laundry, church, pasta party, etc. All week I'd been obsessing over the weather. At first it said Monday would be a high of 64 and cloudy, then it climbed as high as 73 for the high, then downgraded to 57 for the high. I think the weatherman was playing with the marathoners because even the final prediction was completely wrong.

On Sunday night I got out my uniform and shoes, bib number, gear bag, and food. I pulled out my fancy new arm sleeves that I had just purchased a few days ago. I pulled it out of the package and realized that it was actually just one sleeve; apparently Adidas sells arm sleeves as single entities. Ridiculous, right? That's what I get for waiting until the night before to open the package. No fancy arm sleeves then. Turns out I didn't need them anyway.

On Monday morning Oliver woke up at 4 a.m. Scott got out of bed to help him get back to sleep and I laid there for another hour or so, but never fell back asleep. I got up and got ready and headed to the train with Janis and Scott (Sherida got up really early and was out the door fast!). Because I run for the Boston Athletic Association, the club team that hosts the marathon, I was able to catch a sweet charter bus. There was an assortment of "VIPs" on the bus: employees of companies that sponsor the marathon, celebrities, etc. The guy behind me talked about his longest run of 16 rainy miles being so hard. Poor guy. There was a Tarahumara Native American in sandals made out of tires in the row in front of me. I saw him talking to Scott Jurek at the Athlete's Village later. At the Athlete's Village, I held a door for supermodel Christy Turlington Burns.

About 45 minutes before the race, my teammates and I headed to the starting line. My bib number 2993 had me in the first start wave and third corral, but I moved back to the fifth corral so I could try to run with my teammate and Tuesday night training partner Amanda. I wore a bunch of junk clothes thinking it would be cold, but quickly realized I did not need them at all. I threw them all off and waited for the start in my uniform tank and shorts. It was warm just standing there. Not hot - not like 2012. But warm.

The gun went off and we walked and lurched forward, eventually making it over the start line within three minutes or so. We dodged in and out of people, but it was really hard staying together! There are just so many people that it's easy to get stuck in the crowd. We waddled off the first mile in 6:54, the next in 6:45. I was already reaching for water at mile 3 and so was everyone else. Water stops made it even harder to stick together and around mile 8, I couldn't find Amanda.

I plodded on through Natick to Wellesley and the famous "scream tunnel." I reached the half mark in 1:29 and knew I wouldn't reach my goal of breaking three hours. I didn't feel great and still had the Newton hills ahead. Despite this, I wasn't dreading the distance. I never felt like the miles got longer as sometimes happens in the marathon. Perhaps the awesome spectators helped with that.

I saw Amanda around mile 16. She was feeling good and said hello as she zoomed by. I plodded up the Newton hills, not crashing but not feeling fabulously powerful either. I was happy to see a lot of familiar faces around miles 18-20 - especially Scott, Bruce, Phoebe, and Oliver. I stopped for high fives (thanks Ellen for the proof in the above photo). Phoebe later said it was her only high five for the day (Scott said she didn't stick her hand out far enough or long enough).

I felt a little better in the final five miles and made the turn onto Boylston Street feeling tired but not shuffling. I ended up finishing in 3:09:56. I was a little bummed that my last half was 10 minutes slower than my first half, but after talking to a bunch of finishers I ended up being proud of that; lots of people ran 15-30 minutes slower because of the heat. The winning times this year were even 8-9 minutes slower than normal, so now I feel justified.

Once I finished, I headed for the VIP tent (this is seriously the best perk of running for Team BAA; it is so nice to have a place to sit down right by the finish line!) and found Amanda, who finished less than a minute in front of me. I grabbed my gear bag, sat down, and pulled on layer after layer. Even though I was warm, I was cooling fast. I often get hypothermic post-marathon, so my gear bag included a winter hat, gloves, and down coat. I grabbed some food (which I couldn't eat for several hours since I just felt queasy and unsettled), waddled to the train, and waddled home to a hot shower.

Sherida, Janis and Scott wandered in later and we took a good long time to clean up and exchange battle stories before heading to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Janis could only stomach toast, but by then I was actually getting hungry so finally got a legit meal. Later Sherida and I went out for round two: desserts. Janis and Scott headed home that night, Sherida the next morning, and the Raymond Fam and I headed to Cape Cod for April vacation. More on that in the next post.

All in all, the 2016 Boston Marathon was a success. I was happy to run with the yellow and blue jerseys of the BAA and enjoy a few perks. Despite slathering up with sunblock, my right side got a little sunburn (because we run in one direction from Hopkinton to Boston). I got one black toe, but no blisters. I trained hard and ran well, but I know I can run faster so I'm already shopping for my next marathon. Any ideas?

Marathon Monday

 Marathon weekend was awesome as usual. It started with the BAA 5K on Saturday. I was really excited for this race and hoped to bust out an awesome time, but that did not happen! I forgot that the race is ridiculously large, that 10,000 people have to squeeze over a tiny start line and skinny course, that people seed themselves, and nobody seeds themselves honestly except me. When it came time to line up, I stood next to the 6:00 minute per mile sign and was amazed at the hundreds of people in front of me. There must be a lot of sub-6 runners.... I stood next to a 10-year-old and an overweight woman, but the optimist in me thought perhaps there was some chance they could actually run a 6-minute mile. Why would anyone want to line up ahead of where they should be??? The gun went off and I passed a gazillion people, dodging in and out for 5,000 meters. Still, my time was not great - 19:21 - not even close to what I wanted. Not even close to 6-minute pace! Next time do I line up at 6:15 pace or just toe the very front no matter what? Anyway, the race was run and I was ready to be a spectator for the rest of the weekend.

I hosted the Annual Pasta Dinner at my place with former BYU runners Carolyn Quebe, Emily and Kristy Barrus, and their families. My high school bestie, Kathy Shell, also came. We chowed on pasta, forgot to take pictures, and caught up on life/kids/running.

On Marathon Monday, we headed to Mile 19. It was cold (in the mid to high 40s) and rainy, so the kids didn't last long. After an hour or so, Scott took them to the car and drove a friend of his to the train station while keeping the kids dry and happier. I stayed in the rain and cheered on my BYU teammates (Carolyn, Emily, Kristy, and Tara), my BAA teammates, and Kathy. Despite the crappy weather, everyone ran well and was happy.

 On Tuesday, we picked up Kathy from her hotel and held her hostage for two days. She has never been to Boston, so we had to do the typical tourist routine: Freedom Trail, Old North Church, Mike's Pastry, etc. At the top, that would be Kathy and Phoebe with Bill Russell at government center (a little detour from the Freedom Trail). Directly above, they posed with a neighborhood firetruck. Kathy was a forest service firefighter a few years ago, so she and Phoebe got along swimmingly. They even independently wore firefighter T-shirts and camo shorts, so Phoebe proclaimed that they were twins and insisted that they hold hands 24 hours a day. They do kindof look alike and one lady even asked Phoebe if she was proud of her mother for finishing the marathon (Kathy also wore her Boston Marathon jacket around town so everyone knew how awesome/ sore she was). Phoebe responded, "no." I had some explaining to do.

 We stopped at the Rose Kennedy Greenway and rode the carousel. Kathy brought the kids Blackhawks hockey jerseys from Chicago, where she lives now. Scott said Oliver would get beat up if he wore this in the North End, but no one messed with him.

On Wednesday, we checked out Harvard to rub John Harvard's toe (it brings good luck), walked around Henry Longfellow's house, went to a local chocolate factory, and went out to dinner. On Thursday, we parted ways - she headed to New York to visit another friend and we headed to New Hampshire to get some relaxing vacation time. More on that soon.

Watching the marathon got me all excited about running marathons again. I think last year's Boston left me a bit burned out. I was constantly tired from breastfeeding every three hours, not getting regular sleep because Oliver was still waking up at night, and running 60-70 miles a week. I was glad I ran it last year, but I'd had my fill of pedestrian paced marathons. I am ready to train hard and get to the starting line rested and ready. I knew that wasn't going to be the case for this Boston, so I ran shorter distances for awhile and survived the winter, Scott's crazy call schedule, and such. I think things will get easier though, so I am signing up for a fall marathon and should be running Boston next year.

Boston Marathon 2014 Recap

Ben and me on Marathon Monday - 6:15 a.m.

Boston Marathon weekend was wild! My parents drove here on Saturday in their big Suburban, packed with Ben and Hannah and Marissa and Tevita and their two girls. We filled every inch of space in our condo, then sent Ben and Hannah down the hall to our super-kind-and-generous neighbor’s place so they could get some baby-free sleep. Oliver had a few good weeks of sleeping, but slipped back into the every-three-hours-or-so schedule when he cut another tooth and developed a cold and cough. Thankfully, Saturday night was the first time in weeks that he slept for six straight hours. Ahhhhh. 

On Sunday, we celebrated Easter at church and then with an egg hunt and Easter baskets. Ben and I picked up our marathon bib numbers at the expo, and I picked up a special bag and tag so I could take my breastpump with me to the starting line (and have it waiting for me at the finish). Ben had a round of energy bar samples for appetizers, then we went home for our pasta dinner. 

My sole sister, Anna, came all the way from Japan to join us for dinner – and run the marathon of course. Anna and I ran thousands of miles together until about a year ago when I was hospitalized and she graduated from Harvard and moved to Japan to be a schoolteacher. On Sunday night, I laid out my things and tucked Oliver in; it is nothing short of a miracle that he slept for 6+ hours straight. 

On Marathon Monday morning, I fed Oliver, put my hair up into battle mode, put on my uniform, layered warmly with old BYU sweatpants, and grabbed a cup of oatmeal. Scott drove me and Ben to the Boston Common, where we were to board a shuttle bus bound for Hopkinton. 

There was a heavy security presence, but we made it to the entry gate. A policeman glanced at my bag – a clear plastic bag with a giant orange sticker that said “MEDICAL DEVICE.” There was a no-bags policy this year, but an exception was made for the breastpump (thank goodness!). Ben and I boarded the bus and began the journey to Hopkinton. 

The bus ride feels like forever – mostly because I kept thinking I had to run alllll the way back to where we came from. It was fun to chat with Ben though; it was his first Boston Marathon and we chatted about what to expect. When we arrived in Hopkinton, we got off the bus and found a patch of grass to stretch out on in the Athlete’s Village. We hung out for awhile, then decided to get in line for the port-o-potties at 8:45 so Ben would have plenty of time to get to his Wave One start time of 10:00.

We waited and waited. The line moved slowly. Ben bailed at 9:15 so he could get to the starting line on time. I waited some more. It took a full hour to finally go! After that necessity, I grabbed my breastpump bag and headed to the Operations Tent. When I emailed the BAA awhile ago about needing a breastpump, they emailed me a lengthy set of instructions about what to do and where to go and who to talk to. At the tent, they pointed me to a small unmarked tent: the “pumping station.” 

I went inside and discovered that I wasn’t the only breastfeeding runner momma out there. Two other women were set up with tables, folding chairs, and pumps. We chattered and found that we’d all thought we were completely alone in this; there were five other bagged pumps on a table in the corner, so there were at least eight breastfeeding moms in the marathon (out of 38,000 runners!). One woman had a five-month-old!!! I felt wimpy. 

By the time I finished and packed my pump, it was already 10:20. I was in Wave Two with a start time of 10:25. Or was it 10:30? I couldn’t remember, but I saw plenty of other runners with white bib numbers (the waves were color-coded) trudging toward the start, so I didn’t worry too much. I walked a bit, pulled off my sweatpants along the way and tossed them to the side, walked some more, tossed my sweatshirt….

It is about a ¾-mile walk from the Athlete’s Village to the starting line and by the time I got there, I noticed that the corrals were gone. The start was at 10:25 and I’d completely missed it! In the end, there was a 12-minute difference between my “gun time” (when Wave Two officially started) and my “net time” (my actual time from starting line to finish line). Thank heavens for timing chips. I walked up to the starting line and started to run. 26.2 to go! 

My original plan was to take it easy for at least the first half, then reevaluate. I decided the best way to take it easy was to not look at my watch until getting to Wellesley; that way, I would be forced to run based on how I felt and not what my watch said. I stuck to my plan: chatting with runners along the way, enjoying the scenery, taking cups of water and Gatorade every mile, high-fiving little kids at the side of the course. 

The first few miles of Boston have significant downhill, which you might think would make it easy. It would be easy if it was a six-mile race, but this is a MARATHON. The early downhill requires you to either go really fast (rough on the joints, great way to get injured fast) or put the brakes on a bit (straining the quads). I opted for the brake method, sticking to my conservative plan.

I went through Hopkinton, Ashland, Framingham, and Natick while chomping on homemade dried apple slices. I high-fived some screaming Wellesley girls and checked my watch at the halfway point – 1:45. I was on track for a 3:30 and thought for a moment maybe I could go under that. I figured I’d get through the hilly portion of the race next and see how I felt around mile 21 before going all out. 

From Wellesley to the Newton hills! I started counting down the miles until I could catch a glimpse of my family at Mile 19. When I did make it there, the streets were so much more packed than usual so I had a hard time spotting them. I spotted them at the last moment; actually, I only saw my mom. She handed me a waterbottle and I threw my sweaty sleeves at her (good trade?!). 

Mile 19: getting cold water from my mom

Mile 19: Still smiling, but more hills to go

I carried the waterbottle up the next few hills, chugging it intermittently. I slogged up Heartbreak Hill and felt pretty tired doing it. At Mile 21 after all the hills, I was feeling beat: my quads were feeling the effects of the early downhill, my hips and calves were tight, my left foot was cramping. 

I passed an amputee runner (mobility impaired athlete for those of you who are PC) at Mile 22 or so; several people were helping him adjust his prosthetic leg. I wondered if he was involved in last year’s bombing. 

Everywhere along the course there were “BOSTON STRONG” signs, but they had a bit more meaning the closer I got to the city. The phrase Boston Strong – to me – means to come back stronger after adversity. I may have been cramping, tight, and in pain, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Not now! 

 I wish I could say I finished strong, but that would be a lie. I finished – but it was a long, slow shuffle to the finish line. I high-fived just about everyone from Brookline to Boston, then finally made the turn on Hereford Street and finally Boylston Street! I could see the finish line and I had mixed emotions. I was so happy to see the finish line of course, but I also remembered all the footage of the bombings. 

I finished in 3 hours, 36 minutes. I shuffled through the tunnel of volunteers that gave me a metallic blanket, food, drink, and finisher's medal. I found Ben, who had been waiting for me for more than an hour, and together we shuffled to the subway and headed home. I nearly passed out on the train, but felt better after a few salty snacks. We walked slowly home, but we finally made it.

After the race

Oliver was happy to see me. It was the longest we have been away from each other since he came home from the hospital, but he did better than I expected. Scott said he only cried for a few minutes and even smiled and let other people hold him.

There was a lot more to the weekend, but this post is already too long. If you've read this far, you probably deserve a finisher's medal and a blanket.

Marathon Training

Now that it is March, Boston Marathon training is in full swing! January saw a slow start to training for me. I missed every Tuesday night Greater Boston Track Club practice because of a sick kid or working husband or sick me. In February, I made it to practices and started getting in substantial mileage. I even forced myself to jump into a race and sort of accidentally won.

It was a set of two races actually - a 5-mile race and a 3.7-mile race that started together and shared the same finish line. I entered the 5-mile race. When we started, there were a zillion people in front of me. And since it was my first race in a very long time, I figured I wouldn't be in the mix for the win so I did not pay attention to how many pony tails there were in front of me. It probably wouldn't have mattered because a mile or so into the race, the course split and the 3.7-milers turned while the 5-milers plodded onward. I could see one woman ahead of me, but I was sure there were more ahead of her.

I purposefully did not glance at my watch for fear that it would reveal that I'd only been running for five minutes or something when it felt like much longer; there were no mile markers in this race, so I didn't have any sense of pace. I resisted the urge until I recognized a street name from the course map and assumed we must be within a mile of the finish. I glanced at my watch, confirmed that I must be nearly done, and picked up the pace. I caught the woman ahead of me, but by now we had joined up with the 3.7-mile racers again so there were women everywhere. I finished strong, crossed the line without fanfare, high-fived Bruce and Phoebe, and went for a quick cooldown.

The woman that I'd chased caught up with me and cooled down with me. She said she thought I had won! I returned to the post-race party, fed Oliver while chugging a few waterbottles, and collected my prize: a box of chocolates and a gift card to a running store. My time wasn't super impressive, but considering the previous month's training and the current inconsistent sleep it wasn't bad either.

That seems to be the theme of my training this time around: not impressive, but not bad considering blah blah blah excuses blah blah blah. Most days the victory isn't the number of miles I racked up or the amount of time it took me to do the miles but it's the fact that I got out of the door (or even out of bed...) after 4 hours of interrupted sleep. I realize this is likely going to translate into my personal worst marathon time by a lot, but it is going to be a victory in itself. I am already excited to toe the line in Hopkinton and run all the way back to Boston - even if it takes me hours longer than it usually does.

Christmas is coming

 The kids are so excited for Christmas. The day after Thanksgiving, we pulled out the Christmas decorations and put them up. We have been baking holiday cookies at least twice a week and delivering them to a few locals.

 We often bake in small batches for two reasons: 1) if we mess up, we lose a smaller amount of ingredients, and 2) the fun is in the baking so we can bake more often.

 Phoebe may resist cleaning her room and picking up her stuffed animals throughout the house, but she will always help bake cookies.

 This little man has been eating more and more solid food and sleeping for longer stretches too. Last week I warned my neighbors and hunkered down for some sleep training. After two rough nights, I'm happy to report he is sleeping for seven hours straight - not quite through the night, but I feel sooooo much better. This is good because I just signed up for the Boston Marathon! I got a waived entry (so no qualifying time needed to enter) from my track club, so in a few weeks I'll start training for the marathon. I'm not going to impress anyone with my time this year; I think I'll be happy just to finish this time around.The 2014 race is going to be amazing though. I am really looking forward to it.

 Oliver is finally rolling over a bit. He is seven months old now, so it's about time!

 Phoebe provides plenty of entertainment.

 Not only is it the holidays, but there are all kinds of end-of-the-year things going on. Phoebe finished up a ballet class and had a little recital. She enjoyed dancing around in front of mirrors, but when I gave her the choice between ballet or T-ball for next year, she chose T-ball.

 A friend of ours gave Oliver a Santa suit that he wore to the ballet recital and a few Christmas parties. He has the big belly, but is working on the beard.

We celebrated my birthday this week. Scott and the kids picked out a cake and presents, and we had a little family party. I got new running shoes (my current shoes are way too old), a tiny mouse for my laptop, an awesome winter coat (my coat was so old that the inner liner was deteriorating and flaking away every time I took my coat off), and a skirt and tights. Bruce told me he thought I was so lucky to have a birthday in December because then I could get presents twice that month. When I told him that sometimes people would give a gift and say, "this is for your birthday and Christmas," he was appalled. I think he is okay waiting until May for his birthday.

Urban lockdown.

As it turns out, Monday's bombings that felt a little too close for comfort got a little closer to us later in the week. I was glad that Bruce missed all this action because he's old enough to get it and be scared by it, and I'm glad Phoebe is young enough to not be scared of anything really.

Late Thursday night, I woke up to the sound of sirens. Not just one or two emergency vehicles, but what sounded like dozens of them racing down our street. I fell back to sleep and woke up a half-hour later and heard more. It seemed that they just kept coming and coming. Phoebe woke up, so I put her back to bed.

I grabbed my phone and checked the news. A police officer had been shot and killed two blocks away, just outside the building where Bruce would have gone to Cub Scouts had he not been in D.C. this week. I was disturbed by the news, but rolled over and slept a few more hours until morning.

I had planned to go running on Friday morning, but my running partner (who knows me well enough to know I don't check the news or emails before heading out early in the mornings) called and said, "Don't go out! There's a manhunt..."

And the story unfolded from there.

The police officer that was shot by my house was shot by the men suspected of carrying out the Boston Marathon bombings. Coincidentally, there was a robbery at the 7-11 just around the corner (one block away - yikes!) at about the same time. When the police reviewed the security footage at 7-11, they spotted the marathon bombing suspects and thus began the chase.

The governor issued a lockdown for our community. Although most of Friday's events (a shootout or two, a day-long search, and the final capture) occurred in the next town over, Phoebe and I stayed indoors behind our locked door for the entire day. It was genuinely scary. I kept checking the news on my phone and found out the identities of the suspects, found that they lived only a few blocks away from us (one block from where Bruce goes to school - that's probably the scariest thing for me to think about), and frequented the same parks and restaurants. It freaks me out to think that we could have passed them at some point - hanging out at the park or getting a Slurpee after a long run. And although I had felt safe earlier in the week after reassuring myself that those bombings were some random event probably caused by some disgruntled people that lived somewhere else, I felt wronged all over again.

I felt some relief once the suspects were captured. I spent my Saturday out and about; Phoebe and I went for a run with friends (we ended at the site where the police officer was shot and left flowers there), went to the circus, went to the playground, and tried to have a "normal" day. I couldn't help but to wonder who I was passing on the streets: Who is this person? Is this person a terrorist? 

Then it occurred to me that 1) I cannot be at peace thinking that everyone in my neighborhood might be a terrorist, and 2) It's just not fair to even think that thought about everyone I cross paths with. And so I'm back to where I started - you know, trying to be nice to everyone. The same thing I tell my kids to do. 

Throughout the past few days, I've had a Christmas song in my head: "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I think when I woke up in the middle of Thursday night I thought something along the lines of "there is no peace on earth" and as soon as I had that thought, this song started playing on repeat in my head, especially the last two verses.

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong, And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

And so while we may have terrorists in the neighborhood, random robberies of my favorite place to get Slurpees, and certainly plenty of things to fear, I will not let fear paralyze me for God is in charge and will prevail.

And now for something completely different.

 Last week after the marathon, Scott took Bruce and the camera and headed to Washington D.C. Thus, I did not get to download photos until today, so here is the random photo dump from the last few weeks. Above is Phoebe with her "joy school" class. Two moms and I took turns teaching these awesome kids twice a week from September through March. We started off using the values-based Joy School curriculum, but the lesson plans hadn't been updated for a few decades so we switched to another slightly more academic curriculum. In March, one kid moved and the other family decided to home-school their other children, so we had a little graduation and called it a school-year. Phoebe already misses her buddies and is going to be a bit socially deprived this summer.

 Phoebe has been asking to go to a museum for awhile, so we waited until Bruce had a day off school and then spent the entire day at the Museum of Science. We went to an IMAX film about caves and canyons, learned about hurricanes, and pushed every button and joystick we walked by.

 Scott took Phoebe on a daddy-daughter date to the Boston Ballet. They dressed up all fancy, took the train downtown to the opera house, and saw "Sleeping Beauty." Phoebe is really into ballet, ballerinas, all things colored pink, etc - so this was right up her alley. Lest you think Bruce is getting ignored, his father-son adventure was next; Scott and Bruce went to Philadelphia and Washington D.C. for five days. Scott had a few days off of work (he gets a few vacation days, but they have to be during specified dates so he had to use them or lose them), so he spoiled me and the kids as much as possible.

And finally, here is the most telling photo of Marathon Monday. This is about what we did on the sidelines, which is why I was sulky and depressed.

Boston 2013

Marathon Monday started out beautifully. The weather was perfect - 40s in the morning warming to low-to-mis-50s during the day. There was hardly a breeze, a few clouds in the sky; truly perfect marathoning weather. Of course, I thought, the weather is perfect because I'm not racing this year.

Scott had to work all day but I had the day off from Miss J, so the kids and I headed to Mile 19 in Newton. It's out in the 'burbs with grass and trees lining the course, so there's room to spread out on the curb and let the kids play on the grass. Bruce and Phoebe snacked, watched DVDs, played with other kids, and petted lots of dogs while I watched the elite women, then elite men, then waves and waves of runners pass.

Honestly, I felt a little sulky. I was already a little jealous of the nice weather, then to watch something so inspiring while sitting in a lawn chair 28 pounds heavier than a year ago - it just felt weird. I wanted to be running down that yellow line in the middle of the road, not sitting at the sideline. Don't get me wrong: I wasn't feeling regret, just longing. Hopefully the longing that will get me back into shape someday soon.

I had lots of people to cheer for - Anna Novick (my long-time running partner who still puts up with my slow pregnant 5-mile runs every morning!), Emili Lawson Smith (former BYU XC teammate and next-door locker neighbor while a Cougar), Carolyn Quebe Williams (also a former BYU teammate who now lives in Boston), Darcee Burnett (former member of the church congregation we went to while we lived in Arlington and super-inspiring person), and the dozen or so runners wearing Greater Boston Track Club singlets.

I positioned myself beyond the 30K (18.6 miles) timing mats but before the 19-mile marker and kept checking my phone for text message alerts of my runners. Emili was the first to go by - according to my text anyway. Unfortunately I never saw her; huge crowds were streaming by and it occurred to me that I should have asked her what she was going to wear. Oops. Anna came by next, but I missed her too; I think I might have been changing Phoebe's DVD or something at that point. I was bummed about that because I had a bunch of signs made up and a waterbottle to hand to her. I did see Carolyn and Darcee, but I'm not sure they heard me in the sea of spectators.

I sat and sulked a little longer, watching runners and clutching my phone waiting for text updates. Anna went on to run a near-perfectly paced race in a PR of 2:56. Victory! Emili came in at 3:06, Carolyn at 3:24, and Darcee at 3:27. Once everyone crossed the line, I packed up the kids and headed home. When I walked in the door, I got a phone call.

"Emily, are you okay?" My sister-in-law called. I thought she was just being nice and understanding of my sulky pregnant-runner status, so I started whining about my sulky sidelined morning. She gave me the news and my phone started buzzing with texts and incoming calls.

I reassured everyone that I hadn't gone to the finish line this year (I have in the past, and was toying with the idea of meeting up downtown with runners afterward, but decided against it being pregnant/lazy and not wanting to chase two kids around crowds of people), then started making texts and calls of my own. All of my GBTC teammates, their families, and my friends that I tracked were all out of the finish area when the bombs went off. I confirmed that everyone was okay, then followed the news for the rest of the day trying to make sense of it all. I still can't make sense of it.

If anything, this event has only stoked my desire to race the marathon even more. I've been thinking of a Boston Marathon return in 2015 because it will give me ample time to build up mileage and get fast post-baby, but now I'm eager to be part of the marathon in 2014 even if I am not in top shape. I'm not sure it's realistic; I have to re-qualify (my 2012 time will be considered too old for the 2014 registration requirement) and registration is in September (a month after having a baby?!), but there are back door methods of getting in (charity, waivers, etc.) so there's still a chance.

I would just love to run down Boylston Street as my own personal flip-of-the-bird to terrorism. You can't run me out of Boston! I will run you out.

In 2014 if I can.

In 2015 for sure.

Slow and steady finishes the race.

This was a marathon to forget and remember. I am choosing to forget the time, but remember the experience...

A few days before Marathon Monday, the forecast projected 88-degree heat. The BAA sent out emails discouraging people from running and even offered to defer entries to the following year.Based on my 20-mile race pace and other solid recent races, I figured I could run in the low 2:50s. With the hot weather, I readjusted my expectations. My Plan A was to run 6:50s and finish under three hours. Plan B was to finish under 3:09, my slowest marathon ever (less than a year after having Bruce by C-section) - certainly I could do that even on a hot day, right? Plan C was to just finish; stopping was not an option.

I lined up at the start; I was in the fifth corral of the first wave. I lined up with two other GBTC teammates and we trudged forward when the gun went off. It took about a minute and a half to cross the starting line itself and then we were on our way from Hopkinton toward Boston.
There are thousands of people packed onto a two-lane country road for miles and miles, so we dodged in and out and tried to calm our nerves a bit. Somewhere around mile 7 or 8, we got separated. The heat was already getting to me and I went through waves where I felt great and waves where I felt like I was going in slow motion and melting into the hot pavement.I ran toward the right edge of the course where I could snag a little shade from a few trees and buildings, but everyone else did too - making for some mild traffic jams. I lost time on water stops too: runners frantically crowded, grabbing water and Gatorade, slowing down and stumbling over each other (myself included) to grab water before the few cup-filled tables were gone for another mile. There wasn't much of a choice: if I passed the water stop without getting water, I risked heat stroke and not just a slow time but not finishing. My times were creeping higher into the 6:50s. I made sure I got water and/or Gatorade at every stop, sometimes grabbing two cups and downing the Gatorade first, then a few gulps of water before dumping the rest on my head or passing the cup to runners who missed out in the thick tangle. I downed Sport Beans continuously and was soon sick of the sweet taste of the jelly beans combined with the sweet Gatorade. I grabbed paper cups from kids along the course; their water was often colder than the race's water, which had been sitting in the sun for awhile.

I slogged into Wellesley feeling like I was melting again, but was reinvigorated by the "Wellesley Scream" and a good stretch of solid shade. I passed the half in 1:31, over 3-hour pace. I knew I wasn't going to keep pace: the heat was affecting me more than I had anticipated and I still had the hard hills ahead. At this point, I was aiming for Plan B.

Somewhere around Mile 15, I got bored. Random songs started playing on my inner iPod - "Sleepyhead" by Passion Pit, "Black and White" by Mike Snow - and I began counting the miles until I could see Scott, Bruce, Phoebe, and my parents. They were at mile 19 waiting, and waiting. My parents flew in last-minute after deciding that they just couldn't miss this race. Boston is probably the best and worst spectator marathon: the best because it's a fun atmosphere with thousands of people crowding the roadsides, but the worst because it's a point-to-point race so you only get to see your runner for about 30 seconds if you see them at all in the crowds of runners. My parents came, and I couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of them.


Another heat wave hit me and I grabbed a popsicle from a kid and kept running. Someone else passed out ice chips and I shoved a few in my jersey. I finally made it to mile 19 and saw Scott and Phoebe first; I stopped and gave Phoebe a kiss. My parents were across the street, holding another pack of Sport Beans for me. Everyone looked elated to see me and again I felt reinvigorated.It was short-lived this time. I hit the Newton Hills and slowed. I had passed hundreds of runners earlier, but now they were passing me. My coach had advised to not push the hills in the heat anyway, so I figured I would fire up my engines once I was past them.

But once I was past the hills, more trouble awaited me. Around mile 21 my stomach cramped up and I ran hunched over and began feeling like I couldn't breathe in a full breath. I slowed down and ran a nearly-9-minute-mile. I graduated to Plan C. Just as my breathing and stomach regained function, my legs started to cramp up. My quads, just above my knees, felt like someone was stabbing them with a knife every time my foot hit the ground. My hips were tight and the finish seemed so far away. I willed myself to mile 24 where my GBTC teammates would be cheering. I was partially embarrassed by my slow pace and partially proud for having made it this far. Stopping is not an option, I told myself. Especially here.

I fist-pumped my way past the GBTC cheer squad and made my way past Kenmore Square and the rowdy Red Sox fans. Now I was in territory that I run frequently, but the finish still felt so far away. I managed to pick up the pace from very slow to slow for the last mile. When I went under the Mass Ave. overpass, my achy quads were actually grateful for the small hill: going uphill felt better than going downhill at this point. I reached Hereford Street and made the right turn, feeling my left calf tighten in protest. I made the final turn onto Boylston Street and finally saw the finish line a quarter-mile ahead. Knowing I couldn't muster a sprint, I still tried to rally for a quicker pace. I may have picked it up a tiny bit, but everyone around me was going faster. Even with the finish so close, I ran to the far right edge of the course where the shade of the buildings protected me from the hottest rays of the day. It was 89 degrees, the hottest April 16 ever recorded in Boston. I finished in 3:19:18, my slowest marathon ever. I was the 149th woman to finish, out of almost 9,000.

I passed the finish and slowed to a walk, stumbling along. I shuffled down the line and was handed a water bottle, a snack bag, my finisher's medal, a metal blanket. I craved salt, so I opened the only salty item: a bag of potato chips. I nibbled on two chips and couldn't eat anymore. I opened a bottle of Gatorade, but it was too sweet so I stuck with water. I trudged along to a bus where I picked up my belongings and then trudged around the block to meet my teammates. We exchanged a few battle stories, took a few pictures, and parted. I headed for the train station and cringed at the two flights of stairs I had to go down. By the time I got to my T-stop, I decided I couldn't walk the half-mile home. My muscles were seizing up and I felt foggy, like I needed to eat but couldn't stomach anything. I texted Scott and asked him to pick me up.

He did, and he whisked me home where a shower and a place to sit awaited. After cleaning all the sweat, sunblock, and Gatorade off, my mom pampered me. She brought some fancy creams and oils and gave my legs a thorough massage. I drank a few water bottles and my appetite returned after an hour or so. We headed out to dinner.

I ate some salty food and topped it off with real ice cream. I drove my parents to the airport, then came home and laid on the couch and truly vegged out. The next morning it's back to the daily grind: babysitting, kids climbing on me, walks to the park, cooking and cleaning. I am moving slowly, but I am moving. I am more sore than I should be for a 3:19, but I am taking the rest of the week off and will take it easy for a few weeks. I will be back to racing soon, but at shorter, more forgiving distances. At least for awhile. :)

Thanks, Ellen, for the pictures.

Boston Marathon Weekend!

We had an awesome super-packed weekend. Scott was busy on-call at the hospital, studying for a big exam he had on Monday afternoon, and writing a paper that was due Tuesday morning. He was probably pretty stressed out, but he put up with the annual Marathon Madness that occurs at our house. We had a pasta party on Sunday night with (left to right in the pic above) GBTC runner and math expert Mithu, GBTC marathon rookie and Harvard sociology extraordinaire Anna, the one and only Anika (my BYU roommate/teammate), me, super-fast elite marathoner and former BYU cross country super-star Nan, and GBTC early riser and training partner Scarlett.
Bruce and Phoebe provided the entertainment at the party. My mom provided the delicious carbs/bread. This is Anika and me at 5:45 race morning. We took the train downtown and hopped on the bus to Hopkinton, where the race starts. The drive out there seems to take forever. Some people chatted and some did crossword puzzles. Anika is a Long Island native and fast-talker. She talks even faster and more frequently when she's nervous. I tend to clam up when nervous, so I happily listened to Anika's chatter - much about her four kids (quick story: when she showed up at my house on Friday, her in-laws who are staying with her kids called and said her son pulled the fire alarm at McDonalds!). Once we were in Hopkinton, we hung out at the Athlete's Village and found my Greater Boston Track Club teammates. Finally, we lined up in our corrals and the race began! The first half-mile was no more than a shuffle, as there were so many people we were trying not to step on. It thinned out enough for us to get a few normal strides in and our first mile came in at 7 minutes exactly. The crowd thinned more and more and we were able to pick it up to our goal pace of 6:40something for the next few miles. Our goal was to go under 3 hours, which is a 6:52 pace. The first seven miles are downhill though, so we knew those would be a little faster. Anika kept "getting squirrely," as we used to call it at BYU. That means she kept wanting to pick up the pace in the early miles and I had to remind her that we still had a long, long ways to go. We came through the halfway point at 1:28 and kept ticking off the miles until we came to mile 16. I'd been feeling pretty tired most of the time (but that seems to be normal with the schedule we keep), but I kept thinking I'd shake out of it. It became apparent to me around mile 16 that I wasn't going to feel any better and that Anika no longer needed to be held back - only 10 to go! Anika kept the pace and I dropped down to 7-minute pace.
My parents and Bruce and Phoebe waited for me at mile 19. They waited for hours and hours, and got to see me for 30 seconds while I ran by. Thanks!
My dad took this photo of Nan, who got a cramp in her quad around mile 10 and claims that she totally tanked, but still ran a 2:38 and ended up in 21st place. This is me accepting water from strangers. I was so thirsty that I drank at every water stop after mile 5 (there's one every mile) and grabbed water from strangers in between. That's Bruce in the corner, holding up his "GO EMILY" sign. Best fan club ever.Anika went on to finish in 2:56. Amazing! I never quite reached "death march" status, but never felt good and came in at 3:05. I didn't get my sub-3 goal, but I finished darnit! I stumbled around the finish area, got my bags/medal/food, and shuffled my hypothermic self to the train and then home.
Running a marathon has been compared to childbirth in many ways and I can see why. I feel completely spent, my mom does everything, and I get pampered by everybody and get to eat lots of chocolate.
After a visit with this sassy girl, I finally got a hot shower and felt a little more put together.
And here we are Marathon Night, triumphant with our medals. The next morning, I woke up with a froggy voice, snotty nose, and headache. Did the marathon cause the cold or the cold cause the 3+hour marathon? Or was it that Phoebe didn't sleep through the night for the last few days? Or was it the cumulative exhaustion from getting up early for months and months? I don't know. But I do know that I had a really fun time with Anika and am super-proud of her and Nan, and that I have some unfinished business on the Boston course next year.

I feel like a lot of people chipped in to make this marathon happen:

Credits....

Scott Raymond - for supporting me as much as he could while being a crazy 3rd year med student and cheering me on at mile 16 before jumping on a train to go take his big test

Mom - for baking four delicious loaves of bread, chasing Phoebe around during the marathon, handing me my Sport Beans at mile 19, and massaging my feet with lotion afterward

Dad - for cheering me on during the marathon, taking lots of sweet pictures (almost all of those above are his), taking me out to dinner Marathon Night so I didn't have to cook, and fixing my kitchen light marathon weekend

Coach Tom Derderian - for providing excellent workouts and advice, and pulling some strings to register me without a qualifying time

Scarlett Graham - for waking up to run with me at 5 a.m. most mornings, even when she didn't have to be up that early

Anna Novick - for running the first 6 miles with me and Anika, doing some really hard workouts with me, and even getting up for those early morning runs a few times

Ellen Patton and the Arlington Ward Mile 19 crew - for putting together a bonafide party, handing me some water, taking care of my parents and kids, and sending me a card to pump me up a few days before the race

Kristen Cutler and Jennifer Smith Johnson - for babysitting Bruce and Phoebe on Tuesday nights so I could get to practice while Scott was still at the hospital

Jenny and Nigel Reuel and Lis and Brian Haslam - for yelling my name three times at mile 24 and still being friends with me even when I totally did not respond

Laci and Christian Gentry - for cheering surprisingly loud at mile 19

Erica McGinnis - for watching Phoebe while I fit some very long runs in during the day

Kate Wangsgard and the Babysitting Co-op - for allowing me a few runs in sunshine

Megan Palmer - for thinking of me and sending good vibes while on an airplane back to Boston from Florida

Sarah Mangum - for making me an awesome pre-race package of almonds, Luna bars, and other yummy stuff

J's Mom - for letting me take the day off and cheering me on at mile 25

Sorry if I forgot anyone. Comment and chastise me if you feel you've been left out.