Running While Pregnant

And no, I most certainly am NOT pregnant. So cross that off your list.

(There exists a lengthy "rainy day" list of blog posts I'm secretly brainstorming all. the. time. about running. A few friends recently have brought up running while pregnant or what it's like to run afterwards, and so this line item comes to fruition.)

Physicians subscribe to a wide range of beliefs about running while pregnant that are terribly confusing for mamas-to-be. My understanding is that there's not a whole lot of research that exists because it would be unethical, beyond things like "People Women who run while pregnant tend to have smarter babies," and the caveat that correlation does not equal causation. The fear of not knowing if running/exercise in general might be bad for baby scares some running moms straight to the couch for 9 months.

I know I am lucky to live in a progressive area with many like-minded physicians. I started a Facebook group for running moms -- @LSTRunnerMamas (we're up to 205 people!) and have confirmed my suspicion that these kinds of doctors are not ubiquitous. So it helps to have a community of women to support each other and provide another source of experiences. We don't give out medical advice!!- but we maybe nudge each other to get a second opinion if something doesn't sound right.

And our conversation about running of course extends well beyond pregnancy. (Training tips? How do you find time? How cold do you bring baby out in? What's the best stroller? MPG = marathon parent guilt, and more! Love my running mamas.)

My very talented, dedicated running friend ran throughout her pregnancy. Even in her 38th? week -- I was still a little bit struggling to keep up at her 8:30/mi pace every Thursday afternoon. (Can you imagine running 8:30s while 9 months pregnant?) At that point baby kept kicking her in the hip bone and the doc suggested maybe it was time to lay low. Baby heard this and decided to make an appearance 4 days later.

Her experience in mind, I set out to run through the 38th week of my pregnancy.

Doctor 1, at Boston Hospital: "You won't feel up to it in your first trimester, and you will be too dehydrated in your second trimester because blood volume increases so rapidly."

(ok, so he was right about the first trimester. ::cough:: But it wasn't because he told me so!!)

Doctor 2, at Brookline OB office: OMG YES PLEASE RUN HOW MUCH CAN YOU RUN RUNNNNNNNN

Unfortunately my first trimester ended in January in a pile of snow and ice. But as spring emerged, I was good as new. I happily ran throughout March, in my 5th/6th month, and would literally fantasize about running, while running. I remember running my favorite route through Beverly approaching my favorite park and thinking, "I'M GOING TO RUN EEEVVERRRYYDAAAYY I LOVE RUNNING!"

And then I fell.

I was wearing a baggy long sleeved shirt, so the car that drove by with their windows down, couldn't see that I was 6 months pregnant as they laughed at me.

Luckily I was only half a mile from home but I'd scraped up my knee, elbow, hand - and hip - pretty badly. I still have scars. What a shit show I was walking home.

Ya ya ya. Everything's cushioned in there and evolution and crap. I hear ya. But what a horrific morning that was until the ER told us (over and over again) that we were good to go.

So that was it. I stopped running. My ridiculously progressive OB said, "Eh. Can't you just run slower?" I glared at her. "I have patients fall getting out of the shower who are fine. One woman was in a car accident and was hit so hard her wedding ring flew off, and the baby was fine. Please run." Ok. Thanks but no thanks.

When I told my runner friend about my fall, she kind of looked at me blankly. "What, was your ego bruised? What's the problem? What do you mean you're stopping??", she said. -- I just couldn't do it.

And so began our 4 mile walks around Beverly (or Boston, if we had a doctor's appointment.) Until some test came back at 30 weeks that a certain fetus was trying to make an early appearance and almost had me on bed rest. So I went from runningallthetime to sittingallthetime and just about lost my mind. My solution was to sign up for a half marathon at 14 weeks postpartum.

Beverly: 26 weeks

Windham NH Rail trail: 28 weeks

Boston: 30 weeks, minutes before they almost put me on bed rest

The original friend in this story was back to running at 4 weeks pp, and I was closer to 6-7, after delivering at 38.5 weeks. It was a relatively unremarkable return aside from balancing lack of sleep with desire for intense physical activity. Long walks with the stroller helped ease the transition.

First postpartum run, on the same day as my postpartum follow-up appointment.

NBPT Half Marathon, 14 weeks pp.
(In training, with hormonal/loose tendons, I immediately got injured. But still managed to run a 2:09.)

Other friends/people on LSTRunnerMamas talk about being sidelined due to bleeding while pregnant, or bad pelvic pain. The same goes for postpartum stories. Lady bits turning inside out etc for long after baby arrives. To be sure-- I think the message here is to find a doctor that aligns with your beliefs from the beginning so you know he/she has your best interests in mind, when push comes to shove. (No pun intended, I swear.) Further, running *after* pregnancy is far more important than running during pregnancy, so if hip damage or loose tendon damage or pelvic damage is concerning... maybe it's time to step back.

But to say that one shouldn't run simply because she's pregnant? Hodge podge. We're not frail. I'm a woman and I like to ride my bicycle. Exercise is good. If it's important to you, find a doctor who feels the same way and is up on their research.

Running in the months/years after baby is a whole other beast. Interestingly I'm finding it harder now that she's older, than when she was a baby. But that's a story for another day. ;) Stay strong mamas!

RUNGRY!

As it turns out, running is a fantastic hobby because it combines my six favorite hobbies:

1. Running. Duh.
2. Singing: I have a secret tendency to break into song after 8 miles. Low blood sugar is only partially responsible.
3. Dancing: My 96 beats per minute playlist lets me pretend to live out my dancing fantasies. Mostly in my head. With an occasional interpretive arm gesture. Or jazz hands.



4. Biology. Because anaerobic respiration and ATP for life.

5. Cooking.
6. Eating. Because I'm hungry all the time.

Which brings me to the focus of this post!!

Running consistently cannot exist as an isolated hobby. It's a lifestyle. You have to take an active interest in eating well in order to recover and stay healthy. Of course eating well is important for everyone!!- but also there's real science behind how muscles respond to certain nutrients in the minutes, hours, and days following a workout. (Think, 4:1 carb:protein ratio. Phytochemicals. Unsaturated fats. ::cough:: beer. Etc.)

One of my favorite things to impart upon my students in biology and anatomy is nutrition. (I try in Forensics but the conversation doesn't come as easily. It's tough to talk about what you should be eating for breakfast when you are also trying to analyze blood spatter and estimate time of death, right?) Anyway, we talk about the importance of being knowledgeable about what you eat and the meaning of nutrient-dense food. I share recipes and articles and we discuss the corrupt USDA and FDA systems, and how you can't trust a food label to tell you whether it actually contains 0 trans fat, or whether it's actually good for you. (Did you know Vitaminwater/Coke got sued for portraying themselves as healthy? Their response was that no reasonable person would ever assume it was a healthy product. They lost.)

And don't even get me started on McDonald's.

The kids always come out assuming I'm vegetarian. KIDS!! You don't have to be a vegetarian to make smart food decisions! (Mrs. L, I know. But you're a vegetarian, right?) Facepalm.

What biology has taught me is that the more you know about food, the easier it is to make better choices. Finally last year I swapped my usual turkey sandwich lunch, for a gigantic salad with all kinds of goodies in it. The result? I stopped getting sick. For years, I'd had colds every 10-12 weeks. Last year, I didn't get sick at all. It is conceivable, in my lifetime, that I've contracted a very large portion of and therefore immunity to all the common cold viruses. But I'm more inclined to guess that the salads were providing some nutrients I'd been missing.

It will be great if Jon and I can do everything we can to stay healthy this year, in his inaugural year of teaching an intense schedule. When he gets busy, he simply doesn't eat, and it drives me CRAZY. It's been a theme off and on in his routine and it works for him. But I just don't get it. He came home from school today and reported he'd eaten the oatmeal I made him for breakfast, at lunch time, and never got to his salad or snack. How can I fuel him better on the go?!

LUCKILY I recently received Shalane Flanagan's new cookbook called Run Fast, Eat Slow, which includes among other things a very delicious recipe for "Superhero Muffins." I used Jon's too-busy-to-eat day as an excuse to whip up another batch at 9 o'clock tonight.

This is a seriously awesome cookbook, btw. There's a great 20+ page introduction in which Shalane and her runner/chef/co-author friend describe the choices they made in writing the book and the value of their pantry/recipe staples. I may have started to cringe at their overuse of the word "nourishing" but their message was spot on.

I will totally be sharing their writing, and the Superhero Muffin recipe, with future students. And in the meantime, I'll be feeding Jon and Zoe "super muffins," "supergirl muffins," or "superman muffins," as Zoe calls them.

A few notes about running for another day include how maintaining a summer running schedule is not a strength of mine, how the bunion on my right foot (much nastier than the word sounds) is slowly trying to kill me, and how I fear the surgery that is inevitably lurking years down the road, and how as a result I just switched from the Baystate full marathon to the half marathon. Le sigh.

So for now, we'll focus on nutrition. And I'll leave you with this gem ;)

ilovermont. Or Verdon't? Life as a bandit runner.

I have been putting off writing about last week's Vermont City marathon because I can't come up with a one-liner to summarize how I feel about it, without feeling guilty.

Or is that guilty pleasure?

I'm still not sure. Let's start at the beginning.

In October, Casey asked if I would run a marathon with her, which sounded like an awesome excuse to "have" to do another one. Of course I said yes, and we eventually agreed to run our sixth!! marathon in Burlington, which had been touted as one of the country's best. This was around the time I found out I'd have the opportunity to run Boston in the spring too, but training between the two was a minor detail to be worked out later. It would be like getting a two-for-one - train for one marathon, but actually run two!

Casey trained religiously all winter with a double jogging stroller through colorful injuries and tough northern NY weather, with two young boys trading off illnesses, and a husband deployed in Afghanistan. Seriously she is my hero. Runner's World should write an article about dedicated running mama's like her. If she can do it, anybody can.

We got a house through Airbnb, and her awesome sister and dad agreed to help watch the boys while we ran the marathon. (It takes a village!!) Race weekend finally arrived with a forecast of 84 degrees. That's the kind of temperature where you sort of abandon all goals except finishing. And when the race directors sent out an email that morning asking for runners to comply "if" the race were canceled due to heat, truly finishing became a very real goal. They promised to add extra water stops and roving ice stations and misting stations... but we'll get back to that.

Casey hydrated faithfully and convinced us to run in sports bras, which I'd never done before. (She was totally right! Hooray for evaporative cooling.) We packed some extra saltstick capsules, posted a few Millennial Facebook photos, and off we went.

I whined for the first four miles that we were going too fast, and then we turned onto some godforsaken highway that felt like running under the Tuscan Sun. The first few water stops were 2-3 miles apart. One of them was almost out of water when we went by, and we heard from others who confirmed they actually did eventually run out. By mile 8, Casey wasn't feeling too great, and she definitely wasn't alone. It was 80 degrees with like a gazillion percent humidity. What were the race planners thinking, running out of water so soon???

I hadn't been worried about the heat because Boston in 2012 was hotter and though I was sick after, I'd survived, and I was certain this couldn't be any worse. What I didn't realize until now was what a difference Boston's copious water stops at every mile made.

Casey started to slow down and though she wasn't complaining out loud, her lack of usual loquaciousness had me worried. We pushed on, run-walking, graciously accepting hoses, sprinklers, and popsicles from Burlington's outstanding spectators. (But where we those extra water stops and race-generated ice stations?)

And then it happened. We came out of the port-o-potties at Mile 19 and the race volunteer turned her warning sign from red to black, which we knew meant the race would be called. Their radios garbled something and a volunteer announced that the race had been closed, and to wait to the side for the shuttle to come pick us up. Apparently the "wet bulb globe" reading measured 82 at three different points along the course, three consecutive times, which means the American College of Sports and Medicine recommends discontinuing the race. I looked ahead and saw people still running. A volunteer said that we could try to keep going, but that he didn't know what would be available to us, and that they strongly recommended stopping. So many things went through my head.

1. Poor Casey. They can't do this to her. Just tell us there will be water out there. We've made it this far!
2. Thank goodness there's an excuse to stop. The race was canceled. There's NO shame in stopping. She needs to stop.
3. Oh Burlington. You're telling me that it's against medical advice to finish this marathon, but that I can try if I want to? Do you realize you just made this the sexiest race ever?
4. I'm going to beat that freaking shuttle bus.

Casey promised to still be friends with me and we parted ways reluctantly. This was something I had to do. "Great job," praised the volunteers. "Keep going! You're amazing!" The water stops and spectators were plentiful at each mile, and I discovered what turned out to be the most beautiful ahem, ugly, disgusting part of the course along the bike path and lake. Of course there were also volunteers and EMT's who, with zero emotion in their voices said, "The race is closed. Please wait here for the next bus. There will be no official times." Each time I watched as people continued to run beyond them, and so I followed. I ran along missing my Casey, holding a bag of ice, and sucking happily on a Freeze-pop wondering what my splits were, since my watch had died an hour earlier. I was going to beat that bus.

Until mile 24.

There was a cruiser parked across that beautiful, shaded, delicious bike path, this time not with volunteers and EMT's, but cops. Angry cops.

"DON'T LET ANYBODY GO AROUND YOU. HEY! DON'T YOU GO AROUND ME. IF ANYBODY GOES AROUND YOU, TAKE THEIR BIB. IF YOU GO AROUND ME, I'LL TAKE YOUR BIB!"

How un-Vermontesque, indeed. ("Vermont? How about VerDON'T! Burn!! E Sanders. muahahahaha.")

Again I watched as people continued down the path beyond them. Had I just missed the cutoff? No!! I wanted to beat that bus! I started to come up with something in protest, but didn't have to, as another runner argued with a cop and ripped his own bib off and threw it at him. I took advantage of the diversion, walked a wide path through the parking lot, and rejoined the trail. I was going to beat that bus. SCREW THOSE COPS!!!

"Great job! Keep going," shouted the volunteers. So much confusion. I'm sorry. But you can't tell marathoners they "can't" physically do something, and then not enforce it. As I ran past other runners, who were invariably complaining about the cops and abundance of confusion, we cheered each other on to stay strong and finish.

As I approached the finish, the photographers and spectators increased steadily. This was going to be the best race ever! I did it! I beat the bus! And wouldn't you know it-- the clock was still ticking. Several volunteers waited at the finish to award runners their medals- which I will say had been promised to all marathoners regardless of whether they actually crossed the finish.

I couldn't wait to compare stories with other runners and was thrilled to find John Jannetti and those MVS'ers at the finish. The MVS'ers had respected race management and stopped when they were told to. They were angry that they'd been told to stop. I felt so bad. Man, maybe I had made a mistake.

But... but... SCREW THOSE COPS! I had kind of welcomed the opportunity to run an angry, exciting race against time. I'm generally a pretty docile human. But this became aggressive. Where were the extra water stops, and misting stations, and roving ice stations? There was zero ice from the race. I suppose it was hard to tell what "misting" was provided by spectators as opposed to the race itself. And I'm pretty certain there was no additional water. There had been a push to start the race earlier, and they didn't. If they had started the race at 7 instead of at 8, they could have fit in another hour of the marathon before the wet bulb globe met its threshold. They clearly didn't have a plan for how to *effectively* close the race in case of emergency. When Chicago was closed a few years ago, a bus came around and swept runners off the course. Vermont wasn't anywhere close to being forceful in their shutdown. It's like they wanted me to keep going... right???

And so, it is with some reservation, that I conclude this post on life as a bandit runner. I knew that I was fine this time, but there have been some races that I would not have pushed my luck against medical advice. If I'd had any doubt about my health, I would have stopped, as I wouldn't want to take resources away from anybody else who might need them. The right set of variables were in place to allow me to finish this time. But shhh, don't tell anyone. :)

Bring on Baystate in the fall! Rawr!! Oh and I'll totally be back to Burlington next year. What a beautiful race!

The Fukawi Within

It was August of 1998- the summer before freshman year of high school started. I don't remember much about the summer, but one night will always be memorable. We had family friends over for dinner a couple of weeks before school started when a friend called the house phone, since cell phones weren't really a thing yet--

"Hey, do you want to do cross country with me?" she asked.
"Huh. Ok," I agreed, my 14 year old impulsive brain giving it very little thought. Then, "MOM! CAN I DO CROSS COUNTRY? IT STARTS TOMORROW."

I had NO idea what I was getting myself into. (And the friend who called me didn't make it past the introductory meeting with the coach that day- after he told us we'd be doing our "double sessions" in the mountains, running and hiking 10 hours by day, camping in tents by night.)

The first day of practice, we were sent on a 4 mile loop. I ran maybe 1.5 miles and stopped. "What?" I grimaced. "Everyone else is still running? How is that possible?" What had I done wrong? I chugged along, run-walking, flabbergasted. All the girls made it look so easy. I MUST have been doing it wrong.

That season, I persisted at being very good at bringing up the rear. As a new runner I was scared, but determined. I listened intently to our awesome coaches (and to wildly inappropriate stories from the girls for my naive ears) and tried to learn and adopt the running mindset. We ran an invitational meet in a massive deluge and I sat shivering on our steamy bus, mildly terrified of an unknown coach who came on and yelled, "If you don't want to run in the rain, join the math team!" Displeased at his implication that there was something wrong with the math team, I managed to run a very fun race in the woods, splooshing through wet leaves and dodging puddles. Our lovable but difficult to please coach (not the yeller in this story.) told me I did a nice job.

I was hooked then on running, but I hated racing. H. A. T. E. D. It invariably ruined my day because running that fast always made me feel like puking and I always came in last. Every time we had a race, which was usually twice a week, I'd spend all day debating how I could get out of it. Fake an injury? Fake an illness? We'd warm up and a little voice in my head would say, "Do it! Do it now. Tell coach you're not running." But I never did.

Well ok maybe once.

But I wasn't happy about it. I wasn't a quitter.

I stuck it out and finished the season, still having no idea what I was doing, still always coming in last. ("Oh, you must not have been last every time!," you say. Oh yes. I was last. Every. Time.) Accomplishments included edging close to a 25 minute 5K, and completing a momentous 7 mile "LSD" (long slow distance, which made us giggle every time.) But I was still last.

At the team dinner at the end of the season, the coach began to present what he called the "Fukawi Award."

"...This girl was running a race in the woods and got lost. When she eventually emerged, having no idea what was going on, she shouted, "Where the fukawi?!"

He said he had contemplated giving it to me ("Sciacca!", the girls gasped at him.) but ultimately gave it to our assistant coach, who was precious and possibly equally deserving of the award.

What this boils down to, is that I'm still a fukawi. I just have more experience and am more at ease being one. That's the thing with running. You have to be ok with being anxious about not knowing what's going to happen. Every time you set out to run, you're putting yourself out there and making yourself vulnerable to a little discomfort, of course with the potential for big payoff and delicious endorphins. I still experience the internal battle of whether I'm actually going to lace up or not on a given day, and sometimes the battle continues until nighttime.

Running is about being ok with the fukawi mindset in that we don't always know or have control of what's going on. All we can do is work like crazy to improve, regardless of our circumstances.

Perseverance in the face of adversity

SHE'S BACK. And she was in the Globe!

I should probably write a proper post on what running has been like for the last four (FOUR!) years, but my head is spinning with ideas after my third Boston, and fifth marathon, last week. So here we go!

I didn't realize how spoiled I was with my first marathon (Marine Corps, 10/30/11, 30-45 degrees, after having trained in the summer in 80 degrees.) I hoped to break 4 hours and easily ran a 3:47. I was hooked. I came out thinking that I'd had a plan, did what I was supposed to, and that my effort had paid off. Boy, this could be fun. Easy peasy, right?

I immediately got injured.

It took me 3 months to give in and go see a doctor, and within 3 weeks of an easy-to-fix, you-silly-goose, IT band diagnosis and proper stretching and core strengthening, I was as good as new! - and that much better prepared to take on Boston. (And a bit lighter too, with all the money I'd spent on doctors and equally painful deductibles.)

Then Boston was 87 degrees. I was so sick after that I couldn't eat or drink for 8 hours. I was angry that I'd spent all that money and joined a track club and did TWO MILE REPEATS like it was nobody's business, to then have it be 87. Looking back, I should have been thrilled with my 4:22 in 87 degrees.

The next marathon I ran came post-Zoe. Because when you've moved, changed jobs, and put your kid in daycare for the first time, why not run a marathon 300 miles away as well? Needless to say I didn't have much time to train for Philadelphia (November 2014, 35-45 degrees) and went in with no expectations. At the starting line, I was just glad that it was time to move on with my life. I ran a 3:59, bought a t-shirt, had a cheeseburger and beer, drove home and played with Zoe, and went to school the next day. A 3:59 with little training?! Ok. This might be fun again.



Running is all about the community and I was lucky enough to work with the one and only Mr. Jannetti, who told me all about the marvels of Merrimack Valley Striders. I was eager to get my feet on the ground (HA!) in a new community and get involved with a running club closer to home. I signed up for their winter track session and was offered the opportunity to fundraise for a non-profit private school in Lawrence, via the Striders, in exchange for a Boston bib number. Nervous about fundraising, I accepted the challenge. Because I didn't have time to run in the fall, so clearly things would be different this time, right-- Until you experience your kid's first winter in daycare...

3 stomach bugs x 4 people at our house = 12 stomach bugs, 82385 ear infections, 3 ER visits (2 for Zoe, 1 for me), 2 bouts of croup, and pneumonia for me 2 weeks before the race later, on came Boston 2015. (45 degrees and raining.)

The last thing I wanted was to feel sick again at the end of Boston like I had in 2012, so I took it easy. I didn't care at all what my time was. I sat on the bus in Athlete's Village giggling about how I hadn't slept in days. My dad made comments about understanding if I didn't want to do it, or didn't want to finish. I thought, "Are you kidding?!" I just wanted to have fun. IT. WAS. AWESOME.

 

I ran a 4:09, hopped back on the MVS bus, drove home to play with Zoe as Jon greeted me by telling me he was coming down with another stomach bug, and went back out to an MVS party to wrap up some fundraising I needed to do. I had faked it again. Boy that was fun. Let's do it again!

Jon had student teaching in the fall so I planned to wait until the spring to do another marathon. I did the Newburyport Half (50 degrees in October) and happily ran a 1:47. Though Newburyport's course is far easier than Boston, a race calculator predicted a marathon time of 3:43. Hm, this could be fun.

I was super fortunate to get another Boston bib through MVS, set a training schedule, and I stuck to it pretty well. I ran about 4 days a week, always around 30 miles, which I know is not really enough to get me into the next tier of running. But I was consistent, ran hard, ran hills and tempos and yassos, and stayed (mostly) injury free. And healthy. Life was so much easier with Zoe not in daycare and actually sleeping through the night. I was hungry to break 4 hours at Boston and secretly hoped to get close to my MCM time of 3:47.

With a forecast of 60-70 degrees on race day, I set out just to break 4 hours (a 9:09 pace, after having trained easily, consistently on long runs at an 8:56 pace in 35 degrees.) In my head, I could hear my coach saying to take it easy at the start of Boston because of the vicious downhill "start" (basically until mile 14) that will otherwise wreck your quads. I ignored it, thinking on my past Boston experiences and how my legs didn't hurt at all, and almost immediately regretted it. My legs were exhausted by mile 5. My legs have never been tired in a marathon before mile 20.

I thought, eh, how bad can it be? And kept pushing, thinking I would just push through the pain and use the crowds to bring me to that sub-4:00 finish. I was on pace until about mile 17 and by the 30K at mile 18.6, I knew it was out of sight. I got a 4:10. I swore off running in a series of 4-letter words. I'd worked so hard all winter and was healthy and sure, the temperature was higher but what the heck? How had I run 45 seconds faster the year before without training?? (I went out too fast. I know this now. But still.)

I hobbled to the bus, choking back nausea, and passed out in my seat. As soon as my WONDERFUL, AMAZING friend Louise got me home, I puked. A lot. Jon patted me on the back as I told him I was not doing any more marathons from now on. This was stupid. "Ok," he said, smirking. "I've heard this before. You'll change your mind tomorrow."

I changed my mind over some pizza a few hours later.

I'd thought marathon running was supposed to have your input equal your output. High input should equal high rewards output. Little input generates low expectations, which conveniently means your performance will likely exceed your expectations. But as I began to itch for a do-over, I realized that input/output is actually not what the marathon is about.

It's about consistent effort over long periods of time. It's about being able to set measurable goals for yourself. It's about discovering challenges- mental, physical, family, job-related- and new ways to overcome them. It's about pushing through when the conditions aren't perfect. It's about exposing yourself to the unpredictable and being ok with that vulnerability. It's about learning to persevere in the face of adversity, in whatever form(s) that may come. I thought I'd faked Philadelphia in 2014 and Boston in 2015, but I see more clearly now after 5 marathons with a wide range of finish lines, that this is all part of the marathon experience.

Training my body and mind to face adversity is something I can get on board with, and I want Zoe to find ANY life experience that lets her do the same. (Her shirt here from the finish line at the 2016 Expo says "Chase Your Dreams".)

So, when's the next one?

Vermont City with Casey on Sunday 5/29!! (Speaking of adversity- Casey is one amazing person, training for a marathon with two little ones under the age of four while her equally amazing husband is deployed overseas. She's incredible.) Wooo #6 for both of us!!! <3

Happy running, people :D