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

Race Day Disaster

I've been overwhelmed with so many emotions over the last 10 days; fear of the heat, adrenaline and excitement, pain and nausea, disappointment, and SO MUCH GRATITUDE for all of your endless support and encouragement. Really, thank you, thank you, thank you!

While I am fortunate to have recovered from the knee injury (my tape came off at mile 4 and I ran a pain-free 22.2 miles without it), and for my luck-entry into Boston this year, and even for the good health to be able to run a marathon, I was of course hopeful for an excellent day as well. Marine Corps Marathon went so well and I loved how it felt like such a culmination of the work I'd put in-- and there is nothing that compares to the feeling that your effort has been effective, especially when there's been A LOT of effort!

I am having a hard time getting over the fact that Boston wasn't so magical.

With high expectations and having been spoiled by perfect conditions for Marine Corps, I hadn't mentally prepared for how I would handle a "race day disaster," as Runner's World calls it. I had trained for 6 months with a track club, spent oodles of dollars on doctors, and was so excited to run one of the best marathons in the world in your home city! But that was followed by the disaster that is 87 degrees, and it was a bit of a let down. I was so sick post-race that I couldn't eat or drink for 8 hours, I puked in front of my house (putting on a show for a few commuters who were walking from the train), and I cried-- I cried from utter exhaustion, severe nausea, and the disappointment that I was utterly exhausted and severely nauseated.


The pictures from the race are so confusing. I wanted to be happy, and was (I swear!) happy to be participating in the Boston Marathon. At one point I actually thought, "I'm kind of sad it's almost over!" -- But, I felt so sick after mile 17. Maybe if I'd finished and instantly felt better, I'd have a different opinion? But it only got worse from there.

Somehow I made it out of the crowds and found a spot in the shade where my mom, Jon, and Mike & Siobhan came to meet me. I swore I'd never run Boston again and was even beginning to swear off marathons.


I still can't decide how I feel about marathons. (I've deleted and retyped that sentence about 87 times because I really can't make a decision.) On one hand, I can't wait to sign up for another one. On the other hand, marathons are stupid.


Who signs up for marathons? People who love running.
Well, the week before a marathon, you basically can't run.
The week after a marathon, you really shouldn't run.
Also the week after a marathon, you are very likely to get sick. (Gee, I wonder why?) I am battling a cold now-- further pushing back the return to running.

While I fantasize about having a love affair with another marathon and having everything go beautifully, a big part of me also feels like I don't want to have to give up 2-3 weeks of running for a potential disaster. What is it they say? It's better to have loved and lost? YUH.

Let's be honest. I will eventually err on the side of crazy and sign up for more marathons. In the meantime, I plan to:
a. improve my speed in shorter distances. I've already signed up for the Marblehead Beach to Beach 5k on May 12, and will be signing up for the Portsmouth MSD 10K in June.
b. develop good habits in cross training and strength training.
c. remember not to do spring marathons due to the potential for training in 30 degrees and racing in 80 degrees.

But probably I can't wait to do Boston again and make up for this disaster :o)

Happy running. I mean it!

Feeling hot, hot, hot!

It's August. The unmistakable drone of air conditioners can be heard up and down the street. Oppressive heat slows you down, and you sweat just standing still. Your thermometer reads 87 degrees.

Except that I was just kidding. It's not August; it's Boston's Marathon Monday!

Suddenly, the whole outlook on the marathon experience has to change. People have been training for months, and visualizing how awesome this race would be, for much of their lives. Marathoners often hope to set a PR, but the bottom line for many is to have FUN.

When the weather forecast is 50 degrees higher than you've been training at (and 70 degrees higher than the coldest training day, at that), the marathon looks a bit less fun. It becomes less about a PR, and more about finishing. It's about survival.

(Seriously, please pray for the runners on Monday. Let's all hope that nobody drinks too much water/ not enough electrolytes and dies from hyponatremia, and nobody dies from heat exhaustion. If you're spectating, please also remember to be smart. It's April, but spending all day outside in 87 degrees will be taxing.)

I'd looked up last year's Boston results and knew that I'd be about in the middle-50% of finishers. (I don't remember if that's overall, or just for women; but anyway, somewhere in the middle.) I found this cool site that graphs analyses of finishers. Sure enough, last year in average temps of 50 degrees, with a steady tailwind, I'd fall right in the middle of the 23,879 finishers;

However, 2004 also boasted dangerous temperatures hovering around 85 degrees. A Boston.com article posted today described how 10% of runners received aid from medical tents, instead of the typical 2-4%. 185 runners went to the hospital, compared to the usual 15. I also remember that's the year my friend Kacie worked as an EMT and she described how many people had to drop out. Compare the graph above, to the same analysis of 2004:

Now, I'm curious about the number of finishers? There are 27,000 race entrants this year. There were 24,000 finishers in 2011 and only 17,000 in 2004. Did 7000 people really not start and/or finish? Or were there fewer entries? I can't find it easily online.

Anyway, I'm not really worried about finishing. I'm a little bummed that it won't be a super magical experience. I am thankful for the 85 degree day we had a few weeks ago when I had to do an 8 miler, and I survived that, without water. I am also thankful for the predicted southwest winds at 20 mph on Monday. Hooray sweat evaporation... and a little boost from behind! I will finish, but it will not be pretty. This morning, I played dress up:

a. Normally I would not run the race with the belt, as there are water/gatorade stops at every mile. But why risk it this time?
b. BIB NUMBER 23589. Text "Runner" to 345678 (and follow the prompts) to track my progress!
c. Note the goody bag in the back from a new buddy at school!!! YAY

On another note, we went to the expo last night. I'm SO GLAD we went last night because it was crazy busy, and surely Saturday/Sunday will be that much busier. Jon bought me some SWAG, and we watched a video that describes the course. I did not realize that 20% of the course is made up of the "Newton Hills." Did you know the Heartbreak Hill is actually the fourth and final beastly hill in Newton? Wikipedia says it is 0.4 miles long. But enough with the stats; I'm just going to freak myself out. But really, check out the elevation map:

(Hill 1 from 16-17, Hill 2 from 17.5-18, Hill 3 from 19-19.5, and Heartbreak from 20-21.)

So, we are looking forward to Monday-- with a new perspective towards completing an entirely different type of accomplishment. YEAH BOSTON. BRING IT.

Happy carbo-loading and hydrating to all!

Mixed Emotions

Yesterday I ran the NYC Half Marathon, around Central Park and down the West Side Highway to South Street Seaport. Oh the mixed emotions I have about this.

FIRST, I'M SUPER HAPPY... with my time and feel almost like I don't deserve it. How did that happen???? Usually in the days before a race, I have a plan and eat well and hydrate, etc. But I knew we'd be spending the weekend sight seeing and eating delicious treats in NYC, so I really didn't have a plan. Then the night before the race, I didn't sleep well, and was literally yawning when the race director said GO and blew the horn.

Well, maybe that should be my new plan, because I nailed it;

1:39:29 -- 2153/15,331 finishers, 135/1893 for my age, and 464/7880 women.
5k split: 24:40
10k: 48:30 (23:50 5k)
15k: 71:29 (22:59 5k -- a PR, during a half marathon??)
20K: 94:35 (23:06 5k)
Overall pace: 7:36

A BIG THING I'VE LEARNED....is to stop and walk through the water stations. Otherwise you spill water all over yourself, maybe get some up your nose, and barely manage to get any into your body. I don't like walking, but I do like getting a drink.

A MAJOR OBSTACLE...is adding distance through weaving in and out of people. You've obviously gotta get around them somehow, but my Garmin measured 13.4 at the finish (and 26.5 after the marathon instead of 26.2). Don't know how much the watch is off? It did tell me at one point that I ran a 5:30 mile through Times Square, though when I watched the time by the race markers, I was still on pace with the 7:30 miles. So maybe my watch is just crazy.

THE MOST SURPRISING THING...was the absolutely terrible course support! People lined Central Park and watched us run by, in silence. They lined the sidewalks of 6th Avenue through Times Square, and watched us run by, in silence. They lined the West Side Highway and watched us run by, in silence. I even ran past a station set up by NYRR that was supposed to have music, but the band just sat there, and watched us run by, in silence. Seriously it was like racing through a funeral. Some runners were chiding the spectators for sucking so much and I resisted the urge the join them. Really??!! The spectators at the Marine Corps Marathon were so amazing that they brought tears to my eyes. How do you watch a race with 15,000 people and not cheer????

I JUDGE races on three things: water stops, port-o-potty availability, and t-shirts that fit. The water stops were plentiful and excellent. The port-o-potties were actually brilliantly organized in each set of corrals. I thought MCM did it right but this was impressive.

However, no t-shirt for me. If I pay a ridiculous entry fee, I expect to receive a shirt that fits. Instead I got stuck with a medium that is probably even too big for Jon. This happened last year at Redhook, both times at the Doyle's 5 miler, and at the Newburyport Homecoming 5k. Really people. How many L & XL runners do you think there are??? Buy some additional smalls.

A BIG QUESTION MARK was the race policy on when to get to the race. It started at 7:30am, but you had to be lined up according to bib number (aka anticipated finish time) by 7am, otherwise you got sent to the back. I stood in my corral with bibs 6000-6999, from 6:55am until the gun went off at 7:30, and watched the 4 volunteers stand at my corral entrance and turn late-comers away for the last 30 minutes. These poor runners-- all the volunteers needed to do was turn a blind eye, have an Eskimo pie, or something-- and just let them in. But they sent them to the back, basically saying "Shame on you."

Now, this rule also forces you to stand still for 30 minutes in 40 degree weather, with no room to stretch or warm up, etc. Most people probably don't "warm up" for a 13 mile race. But looking at my race splits, I probably would have benefited from a little warm up. Whatever stretches I did at 6:55am I'm sure did me no good when we started running at 7:30. Weird.

ONE THING I BOYCOTTED was the option to have texts sent to family who want to track your progress, for an extra 99 cents. Most races who offer tracking do this for free. I already paid $135 to enter the race. If 15,000 people pay an extra 99 cents... well, that's a lot of cents! So I boycotted, and found my mom and Jon just fine at the finish. Boom.

SO... cost, no shirt, and oddly depressing course support would keep me from doing this race again.

But the results have me very excited for Boston! 28 days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy running!!

The Lucky 18

I always get so worked up going into a long run, even though underneath I'm genuinely excited. I love the anticipation of that feeling at the end where you know that you just worked really hard, and that your previous hard work has paid off. Few things in life, in my experience, offer such immediate & consistent rewards.

Today I was antsy going into the run because I'd gotten a later start than I meant to due to silly daylight savings time, and an intense game of Scrabble with the husband last night-- how old are we? But I finally got on my way. A couple of miles into the run, I realized--

Hey! You haven't worried about your knee at ALL!

The realization that I'd finally come to trust that my knee was not going to cause trouble brought SUCH a sense of relief. All my other runs for the last few months have been plagued with constant, "Does it hurt yet? Does it hurt? Is that the tape pulling, or my knee hurting? What was that? Is the tape coming undone? Does it hurt?"

Bottom line is, I really liked that I was able to get mentally wrapped up in some other problem, like the fact that I'd gotten a late start. And I thought, "Boy, am I lucky."

• I'm lucky to have great knee doctors, who told me without question that we could fix this. And they were right.
• I'm lucky to have supportive and understanding husband, parents, and friends who love me in spite of my incessant chatter about running and its daily ups and downs.
• I'm lucky to have this great opportunity to run the Boston Marathon via GBTC.
• I'm lucky to be able to set goals and follow through on them, which really requires a lot of predictability and stability in life. When I was in grad school, I used to think about how I couldn't wait to be done so I could JUST RUN instead of having to read 2039853257 pages and write an equally long paper. Grad school is done, and I am loving being able to JUST RUN.
• I am lucky that it has been such a mild winter (even though this might mean the world is ending.) What a great year it has been to train for Boston.
• I am lucky that the Minuteman Rail Trail, from Bedford to Cambridge, is so close to home. It is AMAZING. There are always so many people out who are just so happy to be outside -- Cyclists (the elite, the tandem, and the training wheels), walkers, strollers, dogs, roller bladers, and of course, many other runners. There's never a dull moment. Today, I saw a man who I swear was Chuck Norris, as well as a 3 year old who was confidently leading his parents and younger brother on a walk, explaining (loudly) what they'd be going and what they'd be seeing. Also there were about 500 dogs around Fresh Pond, sans leash, many of which had gone for a happy swim. I want one.

Click here for a map of the Minuteman Rail Trail.  I usually park in Lexington and run into Cambridge.

The run was great. 18.3 in 2:42, and only 1 pack of Gu! Hooray glycogen efficiency. 5 weeks until Boston. Can it be?? NYC Half next weekend!

Happy running!

Rededication

If there's one GREAT thing that came out of all this knee-nonsense, it's realizing how important running has become to me, and how much I previously took it for granted.


A CHANGE IN PHILOSOPHY
After the injury on January 28, I didn't run for a week. My knee was really sore, now we know, from my patella having been tracking sideways and slamming into my fat pads for 12 miles. After that, I spent 3 weeks running 3-4 miles 2 days, and followed by a day off. 3-4 miles really didn't even scratch the intensely burning ITCH for a good run. I did my foam rolling, I went to Pilates, I started to take steps towards recovery, but in the back of my mind, I'd really given up on Boston.

When two great doctors said without question that I'd make it to race day, I knew I'd have to take a new outlook on training and commit to the LENGTHY stretching/ strengthening exercises they'd assigned. I am NOT going to get a DNF in the marathon and have any question that I did everything in my power to recover and prepare.

THE NEW SCHEDULE
Running was initially so appealing because it is so efficient. You can get in a perfectly sufficient workout in an hour and be done with it. Well, now we've added another hour of stretching, doubling the workout time. Honestly I don't mind the hour- I'm enjoying making progress towards new goals- but losing that hour in the afternoon is tough. If I come straight home from school and change and do all the running and stretching, I'm not done until at least 6pm. Most days it's fine, but let's be honest. Some days it takes a toll.

What the H is she stretching for an hour, you ask? Here's the daily list. The most important ones are *ed.

1. Plank, 3 x 30 sec; 2. Side planks, each side, 3 x 30 sec; 3. Supermans, 3 x 12-15; 4. Windshield wipers (the death of me), 3 x 10-15; **5. Quad stretches (none like I'd ever seen), each side 3 x 30 sec; 6. Hip flexor stretches, each side 3 x 30 sec; 7. Side leg raises, each side 3 x 30 sec; 8. Single leg raises, each side 3 x 30 sec; **9. Hamstrings, each side 3 x 30 sec; **10. Foam rolling, each side 10-15; **11. IT band stretch, each side 3 x 30 sec; AND NOW PT ADDED 3 MORE -- 12. step down, each side 3 x 10; **13. side steps, each side 3 x 10; **14. hip abductors, 3 x 12-15.

The other change to the schedule includes not running two consecutive days to allow for ample recovery time. This means more cross training, like the elliptical, HOT YOGA, and maybe some occasional spinning. Let me say how much I love that the doc has given me an excuse to do hot yoga regularly. I love it.

PROGRESS... ALREADY?!
In a week, I can already feel changes. I used a technique called Mcconnell taping on my knee on Sunday, and banged out an excellent 12 mile run, pain free! HOORAY. Today I taped my knee with crappy tape, which came undone after like.. a mile. I proceeded to run 5.5 miles, hard, sans tape, and had no pain! woooohoooooo. Good tape is on its way from Amazon, crucial for my 16 miler this Sunday.

(Side note. While running aforementioned 5.5 miles on treadmill today, a guy came who reeeeeeked of cigarettes, and took the treadmill two down from me. Like for real. Did he just smoke and then come in for his workout? Also nearly ALL the other treadmills were open, so why did he have to take that one?? Anyway, as I'm thinking about how much he reeks, up walks his stinky friend to take the treadmill directly next to mine. I'm not judging. Ok I'm judging a little bit. But the smell was so strong that I was gagging. I wound up switching treadmills.)

ENDORPHIN ADDICTION
For years, studies have shown that exercise releases happy, feel-good hormones called endorphins. They contribute to what's called "runner's high." Not being able to really run for several weeks was a little bit like putting a crack addict into rehab.

It was not pretty. In that time, I felt more low, listless, and anxious than I'd ever have thought. Truly it was unattractive. Endorphin withdrawals + Type A personality losing control over knee (before seeing doc) = my husband is a saint. ^2.

And now, time for a few hip abductors before bed.

HAPPY RUNNING.