On Walden Pond

A friend suggested I see Walden Pond while in Massachusetts as it was fairly close to where I was staying. I didn't have a lot of time or energy to do much tourism, but before I left, I did manage to make it to Walden Pond.

For those of you who are not familiar, the writer/philosopher Henry David Thoreau lived there for a few years and wrote a book about it (which I've never read) and lived on land owned by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Being as I like to pretend I'm a writer and I love books, and ponds, and the woods, I decided it would be a good trip. It was the day after the marathon, so I figured walking around would do me some good. I was however, wearing my cowboy boots as I was anti-running shoes that day and my boots wouldn't fit in my small duffel bag anyway, so I had to wear them to the airport. I'm not sure if that was a wise choice.

The pond is now a state reserve and has a beach were you can swim and launch a boat. I bet it gets crowded in the summer.

Near the parking lot is a replica of Thoreau's cabin as well as a statue of Henry himself.

There was a path around the pond that would lead me to the original location of the cabin, so I decided to mosey on over. I took the "Ridge Path" thinking that if I stayed up on a ridge, I wouldn't have to do a lot of up and down.

Then there was this:

  Generally after a marathon, up is not the problem. Down on the other hand, problem. I have witnessed people (and have done so myself) hurtle themselves down the stairs in a vain attempt to either lessen, or shorten the duration of, pain accompanied by descending stairs after running a marathon. Seriously. And for some odd reason, my foot was killing me.

Then there were these:

I came down these. Rather awkwardly and quickly. I wasn't quite ready to hurtle myself down them, but it looked something like an awkward stumble I'm sure.

I never made it to the old cabin site as apparently 0.6 miles was too much for me to handle. I was probably fairly close but I was just hurting. Every 100 feet or so I had to stop and let my foot recover. But it was beautiful and peaceful nonetheless.

I had a plane to catch, so I hobbled back to my car. After a 6 hour flight home, I took off my boots to find my feet and ankles shockingly swollen. I tucked a blanket under the foot of my bed to raise it a couple inches and collapsed in bed.

This morning a lot of the swelling had subsided, but not all. My quads were stiff and sore and I waddled off to the bathroom trying not to bend my knees. There was a sharp pain in the side of my foot. I iced while I drank my coffee.

Today that foot is just not doing so well, so I've got an appointment with the podiatrist tomorrow. It's swollen and a little bruised and hurts to walk. The rest of me is starting to feel better. It's not that the people at the Student Health Center aren't nice. They're amazing really. But I'm really getting tired of spending my time there. For the past two months I have averaged two appointments per week (sometimes 3, sometimes only one) and for an hour to an hour and a half at a time. Duuuuuuude. I'm ready to not live there anymore.

But in all honesty, I would have to say that it's a small price to pay for the opportunity to take part in such an amazing experience. And I did not really believe I was going to walk away from this uninjured. Seems fairly minor though, as far as injuries go. We'll see.

Boston Recap

Having been sideline for nearly two months with a hamstring strain, my ability to safely run the Boston Marathon was touch and go up until the last minute. I wasn't able to train until the last few weeks leading up to it, and anyone who's run a marathon can tell you that you just don't train for it in 3 weeks. Not to mention that two weeks before Boston I came down with the flu. It's been an adventure.

I flew out to Boston on Saturday, arrived late in the afternoon, rented a car and braved the Boston streets and freeways to find my hotel north of Boston in Burlington. It's a nice hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn. I had a nice dinner of grilled steak tips, broccoli, french fries and a glass of wine...and several glasses of water. Then I polished off a slice of tiramisu torte. It was hard sleeping that night with the 3 hour time change, but I took half an ambien when I went to bed and the other half at 2 am when I couldn't get back to sleep.

Sunday I had to do a short run to loosen up  my legs. With it being so cold here, I opted for the treadmill. My hamstring felt tight but I tried to push it out of my mind. I had no idea how I was supposed to make it 26.2 miles without this thing blowing out.

I had breakfast and then headed out to the expo to pick up my race packet and bib. I also wanted to buy some of the way-too-expensive official marathon merchandise. Usually when I go to the expo is when it really dawns on me that I am about to run 26.2 miles...but this time something was really different. I usually have a lot of self talk that continually stresses the question- Why are you doing this? Who does this? And that helps feed my nerves, but this time whenever the question why started to come up, it was silenced quickly. When you are honored enough to be able to run the Boston Marathon, especially after last year's tragedy, and you see those who lost legs and family members, coming back to run this year's race...you don't ask why you're there. I knew that whatever pain I endured from lack of training would not compare to what some people have and are enduring.

The expo was absolutely packed. I picked up my race number and had a little "moment". One of many throughout this entire experience. It's hard not to get choked up with all that's going. I like to think I'm pretty tough, but this whole thing has made me accept that I am an emotional person. And so be it. That's what emotions are for. I have a tendency to look away from whatever is about to make me cry, to try to tuck those tears away before anyone sees. But I told myself, at Boston, you look it straight in the eye. There are not too many opportunities like this where you get to witness the amazing power of the human spirit.

I talked to a woman who was a veteran of Boston, while I tried on the long sleeve running shirt that came in my race packet. That was a common thing, everyone asking "Is this your first Boston?" It's legendary, people. Anyway, she was telling me how even though it's so crowded at the start, you're in corrals so that everyone who is standing next to you qualified with the same time...so they're all running your speed. There really isn't much of a need to run around people, and most likely they will all be running too fast in the beginning. I guess it used to be that they would just throw everyone together and you could be stuck behind people way slower than you. But the staggered start and separated corrals has pretty much eliminated that. She gave me some good advice and I decided to just let people fly by me at the beginning.

Let me interrupt this for a second to explain to you how big of a deal the Boston Marathon is. Maybe I'm a little thrown because before qualifying for Boston, I had never considered running it. It was just another overcrowded, over-hyped race right? Wrong. This thing is crazy. I flew out of San Jose and had a few runners on my flight to Los Angeles. You know them right away. They're either wearing running gear (or official race clothing) or they're looking at Boston tourism pamphlets.

On my flight from L.A. to Boston, more than half the plane was there to either run the marathon or go watch it. The flight attendant made an announcement over the PA and everyone applauded the runners. Cue those tears. I took a deep breath. "Really?" said the woman next to me after I raised my hand with the rest of the runners. We talked for a couple hours.

The airport in Boston had "Boston Strong" banners all over and blue and yellow ribbons. I took another deep breath.

I heard people on the shuttle to the rental cars talking about Shalane Flannigan, the local girl everyone hoped would win Boston this year for the women. I wasn't wearing any running gear and I'm glad I wasn't. I would've been a wreck before I got to my hotel. The whole state gets excited for this thing. I've never seen a running venue as celebrated as football or baseball, but this is a big deal here. A really big deal. Other marathons I've gone too, I hear people say "There's a marathon this weekend?" Not this town. The guy at Trader Joe's made a comment about how the weather was going to be perfect for the "runnahs".

So where were we? Ah yes, the expo. I bought a running short sleeve shirt- blue and yellow, and a sweatshirt-grey and blue. The jackets were a vibrant bright orange this year and I just don't see me wearing a fluorescent orange anything, so I decided not to get it. I walked around the expo for a little while until I got overwhelmed by the massive crowd, then headed out onto the street.

The expo was near the finish line and there were all sorts of things underway to get ready for the run. People were allowed on the course to run or stand on the newly painted finish line. I didn't go out onto the finish line. Some people have a superstition that if you cross the finish line before the race, you risk not crossing it during the race. Maybe it's silly, but with recent events in my life I decided not to risk it.

Police were pacing back and forth along the course. News cameras filmed all the hub-bub as reporters narrated the story. Runners tried to get into the picture.

My legs felt a little tired and achy so I figured I better get back to my hotel and get off my feet. Plus I had studying to do for my exam on Friday.

I grabbed lunch and then went back to my hotel to ready my race stuff for the next day. I laid out my running clothes, bib, GPS, Road-ID (all my emergency information available on the 'net to those who have access to the serial code and pin on the back- for those of you who worry), fuel belt with 5 GU packets (lemon lime-caffeine free), as well as my toss-away clothes that I bought at the thrift store. Then I hopped up on my bed and pulled out my math  notes. It didn't go well. I was not interested in studying.

My friend John was in Boston to support his wife and sister-in-law for their race. They both ran it last year (and have run it several times before). One was able to finish, the other was stopped less than a mile from the finish line because of the bombings. John sent me a message that they were all in the back yard hanging out and that I should come over. I wasn't doing anything besides making myself nervous, so I went over.

The girls were painting their nails blue and yellow for the race, one with Team Hoyt letters. I painted my nails an alternating blue and yellow as we all chatted and hung out. The weather was beautiful. We had pasta and pizza for dinner with Easter candy for dessert. We called it a night early so that everyone could try to get some sleep before the big day. I was so glad to get to meet the girls and hang out with them. We'd all be in different corrals, but I knew we'd be thinking about each other during the race.

I took half an ambien and went to bed at 8:15 eastern time, positioning the second half by the bed in case I woke up at 1 am. I slept well and didn't wake up until 4 am. I planned to leave my hotel at 5 am so I had set my alarm for 4:30. I was awake though, and laying there thinking about the day ahead didn't help anything, so I just got up.

My race would not start until 10:25 am, but due to the logistics of this whole thing, I couldn't sleep in. I was nervous about getting parking near the finish line, so I had chosen a nearby parking structure and planned to get there at 5:30 am. That probably seems really early to some of you, but the thing is, you have to get bused to the starting line. I was supposed to load in the second wave, between 7 am and 7:30 am. There was thousands of people in the first wave, so that meant thousands of runners either had to park somewhere or take public transportation. The garage had plenty of parking when I got there, so  I sat in the car drinking coffee and eating bread rolls.

Another logistical issue was all the things I would need after the run. Gear check looked to be a nightmare with all the security this year, so I decided to leave everything in the car. I figured I would just run with a car key and that would solve that issue. Well the rental keys were all wired together and could not be separated. It had two actual car keys, two of those clicky things to unlock your doors and open the trunk, as well as a big plastic tag. There was no way I was running with that thing. I hid it on my vehicle and hoped it would all still be there when I got back.

Around 6:45 I got out of the car and headed towards the bus loading area. Along the way I walked under a hotel awning that had heat lights under it. The warmth was welcome in the 37 degree air...me in simple sweats with my running clothes underneath. A woman already there said "Are you elite"? Completely oblivious, I just chuckled and said, "No, I'm just regular". "Ah" she replied. I stood there a little while longer to soak up the warmth. "These guys are all elite" she said as their fancy bus pulled up. Ha. Oh...oops. I looked at another girl standing there, with her eyes focused on the ground. Hmm. I walked off as they prepared to load the bus.

I followed the crowd to the bus loading area and we all showed our bib numbers to get in. A massive line of school buses awaited us. I found a line to stand in and chatted with people next to me. As I loaded the bus, I found a seat with a girl already in it and sat down next to her. As the bus pulled away, it was so noisy from all the chatter that we might as well have been wild school children.

My seat-mate was Joanna who had run Boston before. She's from Long Island. She was in my wave but a couple corrals ahead of me. We talked the whole way. It was around an hour drive which made me wonder about the length of the run. Had it not been for the distraction of conversation, fear and doubt would've wrecked havoc on my nerves. The line of buses snaking along the freeway was just shocking. And several times we passed another massive line of school buses heading back to the finish line to pick up more runners. It was just amazing.

We arrived at "Athletes Village"- a high school and elementary school in Hopkinton set up to (barely) house 36,000 runners. Athletes were sprawled out on the grass and standing in line at one of the hundreds of porta-potties. Tents were set up with coffee, fruit, bagels, medical tents, information booths and a clothing drop. A jumbo-tron stood at the far end of the field with a charismatic announcer inviting us in and giving instruction and updates. Military and police personnel were everywhere, checking for bib numbers and keeping a watchful eye. SWAT-looking men stood on the roof of a building across from the field. Helicopters circled overhead. Joanna and I jumped in line at the porta-potties, then grabbed a water and found a place to sit on the grass in front of the jumbo-tron. We listened to the announcer and some music while we tried to stay warm. Some people were wrapped in mylar blankets, others had brought their own. Some were in trash bags to keep the warmth in, and several were in painter suits. I decided that if I were to don a painter's suit for something like this, I would've had friends and family sign it and draw pictures and stuff on it before the race. Several people near me agreed.

We had a moment of silence for the Boston firefighters who had recently lost their lives in a structure fire as well as a Boston Police officer who also lost his life recently. To hear nearly 36,000 people go silent was a feeling I can't very well describe. It takes a hold of a place.

Joanna and I got back  in line for the porta-potties as the first wave of runners filed out towards the starting line. In line, we met a couple other runners and talked for the nearly 15 minutes it took to get in to use the restroom. They were all out of toilet paper, so I took my garbage bag in with me in case I needed it. Another runner passed out portions from the roll she had brought from home. The clothes I was wearing were going back to charity, so in a pinch, those could be used as well.

When we were done, it was time to drop off our clothes at the tent and get in line to go out to the start. The national guard air ambulance (if I've got that correct) did a fly-by and were going to fly the entire race route...taking 15 minutes. For some reason, I was picturing jets. If it takes a freakin' jet 15 minutes to complete this course.... They were helicopters. Not to worry. Hmm.

It was time for Joanna to head to the start, so we hugged and I gave her my number so she could call me after she finished. She carried her cell phone with her. A little after Joanna left, it was my turn. I already had to pee again. We all moved like cattle out towards the starting line. And then....there were a whole bunch of surprise porta-potties at the start. Thank god! As I moved to go towards them, a volunteer shouted "The white wave has already started!" Nooooo!!! I turned back and went towards the start. As I crossed the starting line, I hit the start button on my GPS.

And of course, right away, people were passing me left and right. It was a steep downhill to begin with so I tried to keep it slow and easy. Spectators, police and military personnel lined both sides of the road, screaming and holding up signs. "Toenails are for sissies", "Boston Strong", "No one is going to take this from you today" (deep breath there. I can't tell you how hard it is to run and cry at the same time.) Little kids shouted "Boston Strong". One little guy shouted out "You can do this! I know you can!".

Normally in a marathon it starts out like that. A ton of spectators. Then it peters out. Well, it didn't peter out. There were slightly quieter sections, but none void of supporters. I ran along the wall of people at times to give high fives to those holding out their hands. My name was written vertically on my right arm and some people called out "Go Carrie!". I'd wave in return. On my left arm was a temporary tattoo that they provided in our race bags of a heart and the word "Boston". On my right wrist, under my GPS was a piece of one of last year's banners.

I was able to find an unoccupied porta-pottie just after 3 miles, relieved my screaming bladder and fell into a more comfortable pace. As the miles ticked by, I drank water and took my GU. A few times my hamstring felt balled up but then it would subside. The snapping tendon pulled the whole way.

I passed by blind runners with guides, leg amputees, people being pushed in wheelchairs. I watched a penny pass under my feet and thought of my dad. Can't stop to pick it up Dad, some one can use it more than me anyway. I sucked in a ragged breath.

Having watched the course video a few times, I was mildly aware of landmarks. It didn't matter much anyway, the roar of the crowd kept out all my doubtful voices that like to creep up. It was so loud at times I couldn't even focus enough to check in with my hamstring.

Mile ten brought two churches side by side. The Wellesley College girls would be coming up soon. Sure enough, around mile 13, the Wellesley College girls lined about a mile of street, screaming so loud you can't even hear yourself think. They all had signs on why you should kiss them: "Kiss me, I can handle balls" (what?) "Kiss me I'm from Bejing", "Kiss me, I know CPR". A few guys pulled over to give kisses. It was a mile of screaming wall. It was crazy. It's hard not to pick up your pace there. I laughed to see the policeman there wearing ear plugs. I'm betting it didn't help.

As volunteers held out water and gatorade, they shouted encouragement and thanks for running Boston. That struck me as weird. The amount of people thanking runners for coming to run. That was all so new to me. The volunteers were the ones out there on their own time, just to help some crazy runners run a marathon. But them and the spectators were all so happy to have us there, thanking us for being there. It was just unreal.

At some point, there was a row of college aged guys getting a little out of hand. A police officer pushed one back out of the course and it made me laugh again. It was like being a movie star with crazed fans.

Spectators held out orange slices, red vines and otter pops. A few held out signs for free beer-but the cups had water in it. I saw it was water and had taken a GU too early, so I grabbed one. The guys cheered.

My body started to revolt around mile 18. Well, really it was starting to revolt before that, but I wasn't paying much attention. With the hills now in full swing, I realized how badly my legs hurt and how much they felt like lead. As I came up over the first hill, my IT band on my left leg screamed out in pain. My knee almost buckled. I switched my focus to tightening my abs.

This is where some really bad math started happening. Oh, mile 18, only 6 more miles to go.

I hit mile 19. Wait a minute....

A spectator's sign read "This hill will not break you". I don't know. I don't think it was the hills. I think it was the road. And the road wasn't going away. Going into this I wondered how far exactly you could get on mental toughness alone. Do you really have to train for a marathon if you are mentally tough enough to push through extreme discomfort? I was going to find out.

Please legs, please. I just just want to finish.

All around me, people were walking. People pulled over to the side. They hobbled. One girl called over to the other side of the road "I'm sorry, I'm going to die". I wondered who she was talking to as I shuffled by. Was she calling for medical help? To a friend who was shouting not to walk?

Mile 20. Oh...wait. Yeah. 6 more miles now. Oh my god.

Just think of how far you've come. You've run 20 miles! With almost no training at all.

My feet hurt something awful. My left leg screamed out and threatened to just lock up and stop. The tendon on my right leg was tight and sore. Do not walk. I knew as soon as I stopped to walk, my legs would seize up and I would be done. I could absolutely not walk until I crossed that finish line. And it was so far away.

Just finish. Tighten your abs, relax your stride. Shake out your arms.

I passed by Team Hoyt pushing a wheelchair and gave encouragement as I passed.

I passed by more leg amputees. Carrie, what on earth do you have to complain about?

At some point, someone shouted something about there being less than 3 miles to go. You can endure anything for three miles. DO NOT STOP. I watched a runner collapse into the arms of military personnel and be hauled off the course. Then I passed mile 23. Wait a minute....ugh. 3.2 miles to go. At least I'm not the only one with bad math skills.

People all around me stopped to walk. I pushed on. Some had an incredible surge and sprung by me like gazelles...only to have me come up on them again. I passed by several runners who had collapsed on the side of the course and were completely flat backed being attended to by police and medical personnel.

Please don't stop.

The problem with your circulatory system is that your heart pumps blood to your muscles, brain, lungs and heart. It doesn't do a whole lot of work to return it back to the heart. Your muscles do a good part of that. When a muscle contracts, it squeezes the vein and pushes it up through a one way valve that acts as sort of an elevator to get back up to the heart. When you're running, your body knows you need a lot of blood and oxygen to your legs, so it sends it there. And as long as you keep running, your legs send it back up to be re-oxygenated. When you stop running very suddenly (say, if you cramp up or you're just plain exhausted), all that blood stays down in the legs and does not go back up to your heart. You have a massive drop in blood pressure and you collapse.

I know how I am at the finish line of a hard race, and I know my tendency to just stop. The exhaustion and agony is just extremely overwhelming. Please keep moving at the finish line I pleaded with myself as I passed another collapsed runner.

Mile 24. The crowd's tone of voice changed. They were seeing so many agonized faces, walkers, people limping and collapsing. But we were just 2.2 miles from the finish line! At that point though, 2 miles may as well be 12. It is so disheartening at that point to be so exhausted, in so much pain, and still have 2 miles to go. Ain't nothing but a thing. You can endure anything for 2 miles. 

All along the route, I thought of my friends and family that were watching my splits on the internet or through cell phone updates. What would they say if you got this far and quit at mile 24?

The shouts from the crowd sounded desperate. I've been this person before. Watching someone compete in swimming or running, and you know they are so close. They are almost there. But they are walking or barely shuffling along. But they are so close! The screams took on a tone thick with belief and desperation to convey that belief. One girl shouted that they were running with us. I wonder about the stamina of spectators. I mean, really. They've got 36,000 runners going past them. Just a blur of agonized faces. For hours.

I felt dizzy and exhausted. My legs have never felt so heavy and dead before. I had pain shooting in every direction, I could not longer tell where it was coming from. Up ahead was the giant Citgo sign. As I passed it, there would only be one more mile to go. Don't look at it, it's still so far away. A police officer on the side shouted encouragement and applauded the runners. Breathe. Two people from the national guard passed me up and it occurred to me they were running this race. In fatigues and boots. A runner came by and thanked them for their service. Breathe.

Sirens sounded as a line of police motorcycles speed down the other side of the street and my breath caught in my chest as I felt a sting of fear that something had happened. Helicopters continued to circle overhead.

Citgo sign. Another sign on the side of the road "1 more mile to go"-an official race sign. There really was only one more mile to go. The road dipped under a bridge and as we came back up under it, we turned right. Those with the energy to do so surged ahead. Up ahead people were making a left onto Boylston. The finish line was just ahead. Please legs....

As I rounded the bend, I saw official camera men crouched and taking pictures. I did my best but I'm fairly certain at least a few along the race made permanent proof of my agony. Up ahead was the finish line....but it looked so far away. Tighten your abs, relax, just go slow, just finish. I felt ready to collapse. My calves were just short of cramping up. I had nothing left in me. But from here I could crawl. From here, as long as I was not unconscious, I could make it across that finish line.

Under the overhead bridge I went as I watched the blue and yellow finish line cross under my feet. I had made it and nothing else mattered. Keep moving. My calves started to cramp and my left quad seized up. I picked up my walking pace, weaving through the mass of runners being corralled through the finish chute. Medical personnel were everywhere, sizing up each runner that came by. Runners collapsed into the arms of the medical people. I wanted to pull over and collapse myself but I didn't want to try to answer the questions of the medical personnel. Make it to the end. Don't stop, keep moving.

Up ahead volunteers were lined up to hand out finishers medals. I walked up to one woman and faced her as she draped my medal over my neck and congratulated me. Choked up, I croaked out a shaky "Thank you so much." She replied "Thanking for coming to run." I cannot tell you how amazing the people were who came out to watch this, volunteer their time and efforts and support the race and runners.

We were shuttled through to pick up water and a bag of food. When the crowd got stuck and paused, I fell into a panic. If I did not keep moving I was going to collapse. I lifted my legs up and down, keeping them moving and pumping blood through my system. I was balancing a very thin line.

Near the end of the chute, the crowd suddenly roared to life. I turned to see a man down on one knee, proposing to a runner. She said yes and they hugged and cried. I shouted out "Wooooo!" and continued on.

We finally made it out to an open area. We had been corralled back to Boston Commons. There was a grassy field but I didn't know how to get in to it. So I found a shady spot on the side walk and sat down. I pulled out a bag of potato chips and started eating. A sudden feeling of relief and peace came over me. I was going to be ok. I finished the chips and a power bar and a bottle of water and lay down on my back.

I looked up through the tiny leaves of the tree and watched the helicopter circle above me and seagulls occasionally fly by. The sun flitted between the branches. People passed by, some of them looking to see if I was ok, others talking on their phones, trying to find loved ones.

After about an hour of laying there, I walked back to the car to get my things and my phone so I could meet John, his wife and his sister-in-law. On my way from the car to the lobby of the hotel was when my favorite moment of the marathon happened.

My hobble had subsided a bit and I was almost able to walk normally. I asked a volunteer for directions to the Sheraton and then went off on my journey. The crowd was just crazy, a huge mob of people going every which way. I looked out towards the hotel and focused on trying to walk normally. People saw my "warmth retention cape" and my medal and congratulated me. I was so tired. I was just staggering through a fog with the hotel the only focus of my field of vision.

Then I felt a tug on my arm. It's one of those that you expect to turn around and see a familiar face. I turned and my focus was drawn down to a little girl being pulled through the crowd by her mother. She wore a blue and yellow "Boston Strong" t-shirt.

"Good job" she said as she looked up at me and smiled.

"Thank you!" I said and smiled back as she disappeared into the crowd.

I took a deep breath as the tears started to flow again and I wondered how these kids saw all these runners with medals draped around their necks, hobbling like wounded warriors at one of the most prestigious marathons in the world. Are we heroes? Movie stars? What do they see?

I'm betting that she did not see that she was my hero. My heart just jumped out of my chest at that moment. The moment a child looks up at you with such awe as if you're just one of the most amazing people in the world.

I bet she grows up to run the Boston Marathon.

I met with John, Chris and Jenny and we talked about our races. We sat and hung out for awhile and then I knew I had to make my way back to the hotel to get in an ice bath. I had a ton of text messages and voicemails from family and friends. Joanna, my friend from the starting line, had left a message at the finish. I hope we remain friends.

I'm not a big fan of ice baths...or really being cold in any way whatsoever. I braced myself for the shock as I slid in wearing nothing but my Boston Marathon sweatshirt. Within seconds it felt like an amazing relief. I sipped decaf coffee and returned phone calls and text messages. After about 20 minutes, I got out and drew a hot bath.

I had an awesome dinner and talked to the waitress about the marathon. She used to be a runner and wants to get back and run a 5K. I gave her encouragement before I left.

My body hurts everywhere. My shoulders are sunburned. Apparently permanent marker makes a great sunscreen because my name is now sunburnt into the side of my arm. On my left arm is still the heart shaped Boston tattoo. My nails are blue and yellow.

Will I be back some day? I don't doubt it. Probably not next year as I've got other business to take care of, but one day, yeah. And I'll be that person asking "Is this your first Boston?"

Dear Hamstring,

Hey buddy, how's it going? I think it's time you and I had a heart to heart. I don't speak fluent "Hamstring" so you'll have to forgive me, I'll try my best.

I know you've been going through a lot lately and you might not understand what all has been happening to you. I realize that asking you to run a marathon with me in 4 days is really asking a lot. Please know that I don't take your trepidation lightly, I'm scared too. I think we both know that neither of us are prepared to do this thing and we both are well aware that this is going to hurt. But we can do this. Well.... we are doing this. Whether or not we really can remains to be seen.

So here's where I'm asking for your help. I know this isn't ideal, it may not even be smart. I'm not asking you to break any records (but I don't want to rule anything out....hint, hint). All I can really, truly ask of you is that you do not have a major structural failure during (or after....or before) the marathon. I see this as a win/win for both of us. I mean, let's face it. A complete mechanical breakdown would only hurt us both. Nobody wins there.

Maybe you're appalled. I would expect that. I mean, I would be too if I were in your shoes. Lord knows you've been through enough lately. But what I'm asking here is that, well, that you just man up. I hope that doesn't offend you, I certainly don't mean to be crass. I just really need for you to hold yourself together for a few more days. After all this is over, I promise to let you rest, I will treat you well and when you're feeling up to it, we'll grow strong together. We'll maintain open communication with each other and I'll be open to any suggestions you might have. I won't rush you or try to push you into doing something you don't want to do.

So...just this once. Please? Afterwards I promise to play nice.

Thanks for understanding.

Love, Me.

P.S. You've been doing great lately! Looking good, keep it up!

P.P.S. Sorry, I don't know what to do about the shoe thing.

P.P.P.S. If you could somehow let me know whether you do or do not appreciate ice, that would be great. Like blink once for yes, twice for no or something. Thanks. I'll leave you alone now.

Flinch

Two quotes I've come across recently have really made me take a second look at myself. One of them I found on the internet: "It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you're not". The other was said to me by a friend: "Carrie, you're not the person you think you are." And then she proceeded to back it up with proof.

Something that came up recently made me realize that I may be living my life under the notion that I don't deserve to have beautiful things in my life. And by things, I don't mean objects, possessions.

Everybody has a certain amount of darkness in them. I don't think there's a single person out there who can look inside themselves-their heart, mind, soul, whatever- and not find some ugliness.

Like it or not, we're all formed by our experiences and our past. As far as we come away from all that, as far as we may rise above it, we always carry some piece of it along with us.

I've had my fair share of ugliness in my life and situations that have certainly left a permanent stain, and in some instances, scars. Other people may not see it, but I can see my own ugliness. I think we all can.

"We each need to make peace with our own memories. We have all done things that make us flinch." -Surya Das.

So why would I ruin a beautiful person by allowing them into my life? What if that beauty becomes smudged because they witness some of my ugliness? What if they are crushed by the weight of my burdens?

I believe the answer I've been giving myself is simply that you just don't. Instead you allow people into your life who treat you less than beautifully. Because then you won't have to worry about ruining them with your darkness.

Even the most beautiful people are made up of a portion of ugliness. I think the important thing is to try to treat people as beautifully as possible and remember that we are all fragile and have a point at which we will break.We are as deserving as how well we treat others- not the beauty or ugliness of the substance we are made of.

12 miles...who needs taper?

Today was the ultimate test of my ability to run the Boston Marathon. Ideally I would've done a 15 miler, but I've been sick with the flu and my snapping tendon slowed down my return to running. I figured 12 miles would be sufficient. After that it's all mental anyway, right? Eerrg.

The weather was overcast and cool, perfect for a run. I wore my new fuel belt even though I only had to carry two packets of Gu. Better to get used to it than try something new on race day.

The rest of the world is in a full on taper at this point, and I would've been too. I love taper. I love that my perfect taper for a marathon is 3 weeks. Three glorious weeks of not working nearly as hard or running nearly as long, in order to rest up and take full advantage of my training for the big day. Well you can't taper down from zero.

The first two miles I had to keep slowing myself down, it felt great.

Mile three I started to feel tired. Fatigue is largely in your head. Or a byproduct of the flu. Nope, in your head. You're making it up.

Mile 4 and 5 I tried to lose myself without success. I was still holding back from striding out since I was unsure how my body would tolerate the large upswing in mileage. I took a Gu with one more mile to go before the turn around.

As I headed towards home I felt a little surge of energy....either the Gu or the thought of just having to get home and be done. Only six miles to go. Yeee...not a good way to view it. I turned my mind off.

I listened to the thump of my feet, uneven and loud. I felt the nagging pain on my achilles tendon that's been bugging me since I tore my hamstring. I tried to relax, listened to the rhythm of my breathing. My pace quickened as I felt that familiar need to be done. I let myself go the last two miles and finally managed to lose myself. The world went away and my legs did their own thing. They know what to do, they don't need me to micromanage them.

As I slowed to a walk when my Garmin beeped at 12 miles, my cough started up again and seized my body with each one. My hope is that that goes away before Boston.

When I got home I stretched and rolled out my muscles on the foam roller. I iced a couple places on my leg: the hamstring and Fred. It feels fairly good, just slightly sore. I'll run a few more times this week and fly to Boston on Saturday.

If you go on Boston's website they'll have a link to follow my race. I guess it updates it every 3 miles or so. You can see where I keel over, it'll be fun. Either search by my name or put in bib number 16802-that's me! My group starts at 10:25 am, eastern time.

I realize it's going to take a lot of mental and physical toughness to get through this with my lack of training, but I've pulled through before, I can do it again! The experience is going to be amazing, and today during the toughest part of my run I started thinking about the people who lost legs at last year's bombing, and they're running this thing. I don't think I have any right to complain. People have greater struggles than I do.

Procrastinating

Today is Friday, which means several things. 1) It's Friday. 2) No school for the next two days. 3) I am now totally overloaded with work because I was a total shit show all of last week. 4) While I now have 2.5 days to accomplish everything I need to, I will begin all of them Sunday night at 6pm and declare that I am exhausted and overwhelmed. I will take multiple naps all weekend long. And a couple hot baths.

Immediately after being released back to running with a freshly healed hamstring, I came down with what was probably the flu. Apparently you do not generally become delirious during a cold. I have also developed an obnoxious cough that has left my ribs feeling bruised and my stomach muscles forming a more washboard pattern...except they feel like they've been raked over a washboard.

I considered the issue of needing to rest while simultaneously upping my mileage for the Boston Marathon. It is amazing what you can do after overloading your body with tylenol, sudafed, mucinex, albuterol and coffee.

On Wednesday I had to report back to my physical therapist. She was concerned to find that I had no voice. While I croaked out my report of my doctor clearing me to run, my runs during the week, and any remaining issues (snapping turtle, Fred....oh crap. Forgot to tell her it has a name. Anyway...) she listened intently. As I told her about my 5 miler, she broke in "Hopefully before you got sick"....

"Um, well...no...during..."

She made a face.

"What am I supposed to do?!" I asked, feeling utterly helpless. Just last week she had sternly told me I needed to get my mileage up.

She laughed. I was in for some deep tissue massage.

So all week I have struggled not to die, gone to classes and done a few runs. No where in there did I find the motivation to study. Ugh.

Today I've been feeling a little better and decided to catch up on a lot of things. After class I went and made another therapy appointment, paid my fees from the last two, went and got stamps (that's been on my list for about 3 weeks now), came home and had a snack, and went for a run.

Apparently that was about all I had in me. I took a hot bath and a nap, managed to crank out a math quiz, then opened my binder to take inventory of what was left to do. Dear god.

A jumbled weather map sits on top and I am supposed to trace the frontal boundaries of air masses. Meerr, what else is there?

Ooh, here we go...chapters 8 and 9 questions. Well since I've read neither chapter....what else?

My research paper. Ha!

Study for the math exam that is going to be two days after returning from Boston. Oh man....

Do your math homework.

You could have a load of laundry going while doing one of these things.... Son of a gun. Isn't there something I should be looking at on Pinterest?

Pretty sure I need to eat again....and do the dishes...and clean my room. This is going nowhere fast. I'm going to eat and decide from there.

The Unit Circle

I could've sworn I had something more interesting to write about the other day (maybe that yesterday morning when I attempted to shout profanities at at fellow driver, I discovered I had completely lost my voice from this nasty cold/flu thing I've got...splendid for the other driver), but I've completely forgotten it. So today I'm here to talk to you about the Unit Circle. And just so you know, whenever I am here writing about such nonsense, it is usually because I'm doing my best to procrastinate studying. I do that well. But have no fear because I just got 100% on my last Pre-Calc test...yay!!

So what is the Unit Circle, you might (or might not) ask? Here it is:

Ahh, yes. Nice. But what is it?

You got me, but I've got about a week and a half to figure it out, because that's when the exam is. I mean, I kind of get it. It's a circle with a radius of 1. And all those crazy points around the circle are the coordinates of points that lie on the circle at intervals of radians (not entirely sure what that is, but that's what those fractions of Pi represent). It all stems from the equations of circles. 2(pi)r is the circumference, right? Well, see all those Pi's? Apparently there's a deeper meaning to life. 

Remember sine, cosine, tangent, cotangent, secant and cosecant? Yeah me neither, but they're in there too. You just can't see them. But you have to know them...and their inverses (aaghhh!! inverses!!!).

So in attempt to simplify and find an easy way to memorize the Unit Circle (because we can't use notes or calculators on the exam) I gave Pinterest a little search.Because what better way to distract you from doing what you should be doing than pinning on Pinterest?

I've come to the conclusion that the Unit Circle is a sort of coat of arms for math geeks everywhere. Like the beloved 26.2 for marathon runners, 70.3 for triathletes, a shark fin for surfers (or Shark Finn Soup if you've met her), palm trees for Californians, crosses for Christians, I don't know-like an emblem to represent your tribe. 

They make Unit Circle necklaces. T-shirts and earrings. One dude had a Unit Circle tattoo on his forearm which is quite genius. He must've had my math teacher. Unit Circle clocks and Unit Circle banana cream pie (ha! Get it? Pie?). 

I'm making a genuine effort to fall in love with math. I don't know if you can just make yourself love something, but I'm giving it a shot anyway. But I don't totally love the Unit Circle. I do love the interesting graphs of the trig functions on the Unit Circle (sine waves are fun!). They make for good doodling. 

I feel like there's something there though, like there will be an "aha" moment when the Unit Circle and I finally see eye to eye. Maybe then I'll get myself a Unit Circle tattoo (or not). I feel like I almost had something one day as the instructor drew swirls around the circle and it coincided with repeated sine and cosine graphs, but then I lost it. It went back to being funny numbers on a circular chart. Maybe I'll consult with "The Joy of X" and see if he's got something to say on the Unit Circle. That would help me make sense of it all. 

The other day while researching the Never Ending Storm in Venezuela (Catatumbo Lightning) I came across this amazing photo of volcanic lightning.

Yeah, that's real. Google "volcanic lightning", you get some amazing photos. I think that is quite possibly the most beautiful thing on earth. I would put that on my wall. 

The Unit Circle? Meh...

The Snapping Turtle Reigns On

I had my follow up with my doctor today for my hamstring and I'm pretty sure I will always go to a sports medicine doctor whenever possible. I think they're less cautious than I am. With Boston 17 days away, I was nervous about what he felt about me running it. My therapist is pretty positive about it, except that I really need to increase my mileage. Because the tendon behind my knee continues to snap back and forth very obviously, we were both feeling a little anxious about what the doc would say.

I ran twice yesterday. 2 miles at the therapist's office and one more that night after class. This morning I ran another two. My leg is fairly happy. However, it is not happy when it has to run up hills or jump a curb, so for now I'm limiting my runs to the treadmill. Tomorrow I will run 3, and Sunday I will run 5. If the 5 miler is successful, we're looking very good for the marathon.

The doctor poked and prodded and felt along the length of the muscle and was unable to find either a tear or a painful part. I demonstrated Fred's (the snapping turtle living behind my knee) capabilities for him. Laying on my back, I stuck my leg up in the air and straightened it. One of my hamstring tendons jumped out to the side.

"Hmmm." He grabbed the tendon and felt it while I popped it back and forth. I relaxed and he popped it back and forth a few times. He winced.

He had me squat, then do single leg squats on each leg.

"Well the muscle looks great. That tendon thing, that's a separate issue, obviously caused by the same thing though. That might not go away." Geezo. I'm not talking about a simple little clicking behind my knee. This tendon jumps out of place when I straighten my knee under tension or under a load. This thing is no joke. It's not that it's particularly painful, but it's incredibly disconcerting and it's one of those things I feel would probably hurt if I continued the motion.

We talked about leg strengthening and I told him how I attempted a straight leg dead lift, no weight, just the proper form. When I straightened up, my tendon snapped over and I decided it wasn't a good idea to continue. The doctor shook his head. I wondered what he was thinking but decided not to ask.

"Well that may or may not go away. If it becomes a problem, we can deal with it then. In the mean time, you need to get your mileage up for Boston without re-injuring yourself. This 5 miler is going to be a big decision maker. If you're hurting after that, we've got a problem. But if it's fine, I would get that mileage up. I'm not a running coach so I can't tell you how to do that, but I would want to get that mileage up.

"If you re-injur it, you're not going to be able to do Boston, but if you keep if healthy I think you'll do fine. It may not be your fastest marathon, but you should be ok. Now, if it starts hurting during the marathon, well, do the best you can and we'll fix you when you get back."

I laughed. That's probably the funniest thing a doctor has ever said to me.

"And if the tendon continues to be a problem, we'll address it then."

I just read some research articles and medical papers on this snapping tendon thing. The semitendonosis muscle and tendon sits on top of the semimembranosis, which is the one I injured. My doc thinks I possibly tore the fibers in the tendon that keeps the semitendonosis tendon sliding inline where it should be. It doesn't fix itself by the way.

The articles pretty much said the same thing, except that the only thing that helped these several documented patients (it's apparently very rare behind the knee but can be found more commonly in the hip, shoulder, elbow, etc) was an excising of both the semitendonosis tendon and the gracialis tendon (the gracialis is one of muscles in the groin). Excising? Removing a portion of the tendons. For crying out loud.

So Fred is going to hang out with me for awhile and see how things go. It does mess with my running quite a bit (as well as going upstairs, making right turns, etc) but it's also still new and getting back into the functional phase. So I guess we'll see. I go back to therapy on Wednesday and we'll discuss how my mileage is going and the new info about Fred. My therapist will also appreciate that Fred has a name. Yesterday she man handled my hip flexors and I refused to cry uncle. Actually at some point I may have more or less said "Bring it on". But I guess there's no faking toughness when you cry out and flop back down onto the table, defeated by a simple stretch.

For the love of running

On my early morning flight home from Portland, my plane banked left over the Santa Cruz mountains and I spotted a dirt path running the length of the ridge. I had brief vision of me running on a mountain trail and I wondered if you had to have something taken from you (at least temporarily) to realize how much it means it you.

A couple weeks ago someone said to me "You must really love running". I responded that, actually, I don't. It's complicated really, like most relationships are. On the same topic, someone once said to me that I shouldn't force myself to do something I don't enjoy. But I thought, Quit running? That would be dumb. And I've always wondered how I really felt about running.

Anyone who has sat and listened to me hem and haw while lacing up my shoes would wonder why on earth I continue to do this. My thinking was that if you love doing something, you can't wait to get out and do it. Well... it is not a common occurrence for me to yearn for a run... unless someone has told me I can't.

What I do love is how when I find my stride and get into my groove, my world is both sharpened and blurred at the same time. I take in everything around me: sights, smells, temperature, the breeze, my footsteps, the twinge in my calf, the slope of the path, the runners and cyclists around me, the sound of my breath and the tension in my shoulders. Simultaneously though, everything around me fades away. It's like picking up a clue, examining it closely, then dropping it on the ground and forgetting about it. Take it in, let it go, leave it behind. Often on my runs I can't think back to the miles behind me and remember what they were like. I can't think back to 5 minutes ago and remember my train of thought.

Generally there is a certain peace when I run. Even on the toughest runs. There is peace in suffering if you do it right. Take it in, let it go. Don't dwell on it, don't reminisce. Don't carry your suffering from mile 7 with you to mile 10. You are not in the same place. Let it go, leave it behind with the footprints you left back at mile 7.

Fatigue and pain pounce on me and I feel them, then let go. It fades. Not away. It doesn't go away but I drop it from my mind and see the next thing. The next rise in the path, rock in the way, the next breath, the next shift in my body position. Suffering has taught me to let go.

So maybe I don't enjoy interrupting my peaceful morning of plodding around my house in the dark, drinking coffee and waiting for the sun to rise, in order to go outside to bathe in discomfort. But what I do love about running is finding that on/off switch for all the pain, frustrations, worries, discomfort and anger. When I'm laying in bed at night or sitting quietly on the couch, all those negative things are free to sit with me and hang out in my mind and I'm unable to shut them off or escape. I can't push it behind me like miles run for the day or footprints in the dirt. My love for running is simply that it allows me to let go.