If it were easy...

Will someone please tell my IT band that this is my World Series. My Olympics. The biggest athletic stage I'll ever compete on. 

Unless it isn't. 

I'm never going to outrun it and I do use the word "compete" a little loosely. I'm no Big Papi, no Mikaela Shiffrin. I'm not going to win. 

The best I hope for is that finisher's medal and Mylar jacket in Copley Square later the same day I start in Hopkinton. If I accomplish that, and if I can find some extra encouragement for my fellow Samaritans team members and anyone else I come across along the course, then I will have gotten it done. 

After last year's finish, and this winter's teeth, getting to the start is the victory. The rest is a celebratory lap. A long one, sure. 

36,000 people are running this race. My # is 32,763. That's even more people than took the bar exam my year. 

It is important to me run this thing right 
to honor Shaira and her community 
to honor those who have donated to Samaritans on the strength of my recommendation and commitment
to pay my respects to the running world and those lost and traumatized last year

But I am not important to this race. There are 32,672 people starting ahead of me and 3,237 people after me. The marathon will go quite oblivious to my presence. 

One more long run this weekend; from here 24 days until the Marathon. My response to IT pain this year differs strikingly from last year. I've already gone 19-20-21 milers, so I've done a lot more long running than I did last year. I know what I'm capable of doing on race day with only one of the long runs in me, so I do not need to worry about getting on the bus and back to Boston on foot. 

Yeah, it's going to hurt. Something is going to hurt. It's a marathon. I'm not young. If it were easy, there'd be a million people running and only thirty six thousand cheering. Enough to fill the Wellesley scream tunnel. 

Oh, and IT band? Meet lacrosse ball. Ice pack. Naproxen sodium. And, to quote a beloved Snoopy bathrobe of my youth, "Raw Strength and Courage." You might be thick, tough, chronically inflamed and tearing my knee apart, but you will not stop my marathon!

One more thing: I'm totally psyched for this: http://www.oldsouth.org/one-year-later#scarves thanks to the encouragement of some of my biggest fans! It's not too late to send a scarf! The black-looking color is really blue. Not my best work but it'll be at Old South Church in plenty of time!

"Fear is Never Boring"

Great song by a local band from my hometown. "I'm out on a limb where the fun begins..."

Sixteen years ago I ran my first marathon, the inaugural Flying Pig in Cincinnati. Slowly.

I was afraid of everything. 

My body the course the distance my projected time finishing not finishing the weather the sports drinks the water stops the porta-potties the other runners the spectators the lack of spectators my sneakers, timing chip, socks, shorts, bra, shirt, hat, fanny pack (which I was right about and wound up handing to a little kid halfway through). 

Sixteen years later, I fear melanoma. Asbestos exposure. The college application process. 

I pathologically fear throwing up. Not sure how to desensitize myself from that one... 

I do not fear the course - last year I kind of did, but it turns out I hadn't taken into consideration what danger really lurked. No one did, no one could have. So maybe I have decided, finally, not to fear what I can't predict and instead turn towards controlling what I can and trust the rest to sort itself. 

This year, I have not obsessed over every twinge or cramp, and there are twinges and cramps. I don't know whether it's age or experience that has taken my anxiety offline. Perhaps the catastrophic events of last year have put everything in perspective. 

I respect the course, the distance, the weather, my gear and food/drink. I also trust my legs, my heart, my brain, my gear...the security policies in place this year, the general love Boston has for this event.

In two years, with your support, I have raised nearly $12,000 for Samaritans suicide prevention and grief support services, with five more weeks to go this year. Like Arlo said in the live recording of "Alice's Restaurant," 

"If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud.I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing itFor another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired."

I'm not scared, or tired. I'm revved. I could run 52 miles...I have two more twenty-milers planned (the first this weekend, the second on the course in a few weeks!) and I am so inspired by the support you all have shown Samaritans!

A brief inventory approaching six weeks of lots of running

114 donors, $7,590, two pairs of pink Mizunos, five hundred training miles, and probably 5 pounds of cookie dough truffles that likely never actually made it into truffles. That was 2013. 

So far for 2014 I've gotten 45 donations and I'm about a quarter pound in on the first round of cookie dough, without the patience to truffleize them. Spoonfuls. 

 

http://www.bigoven.com/recipe/167091/cookie-dough-truffles

This weekend the polar vortex weather let up for half a sec, although yesterday's sidewalks were icy it felt brilliant to train in warming sun. I did not need this hat, though I think the coming week calls for oodles more cold...

Saturday's group run called for only 10 miles. Which included Heartbreak Hill and on into Kenmore Square. It's getting a little more normalized, but I still get chills cresting the Hill and as BC, then Fenway and the Hancock tower come into view. Fenway. Red Sox. Spring. Finishing Boston. But I digress. 

Yes, I'm in pink shoes again. 

I have been wearing these for traction on my bike commute more than for running, seeing as how they'd probably mess up the treadmill pretty badly...

Only. Not too long ago I would have never believed I'd consider "only" a modifier for a 10 mile run. I'm running strong, I love our Samaritans team, and I cannot say enough good about how much support I have been shown on this journey. Samaritans supports its runners well, and the runners support each other. It's a treat to be able to take part. 

But really what's on my mind as I write some thank-yous for donations received is how humbling it is to receive any of this support. People in our community have gone above and beyond, over the long haul, to help neighbor families in times of loss. I am motivated to be a better person, a better neighbor, through participating in and witnessing these myriad acts of kindness. Donations to Samaritans support Samaritans, of course, but also reflect the strength of our belief in our own community, and support for me and my crazy running trying to do some good. 

With just under two months until the Marathon, my next six weeks will be spent alternating weekends running 20 miles and running 10 for the weekend long run, and trying to squeeze in an 8-10 miler on a weekday morning before work, with weekly hill runs and bike commuting thrown in there for active recovery and saving time to get the long runs in. More cookie dough, stat!

Stay tuned for more info about my fundraising party to be held at Joe Sent Me! in Waltham on March 22! I'll be raffling off gift cards and donated signed mystery books, and a silent auction will include a photo shoot, cookie-dough truffles, hand-knit socks, and so far a donated SoulCollage® workshop valued at $375! Donations of time, services, companionship on long runs, or anything you think will help are welcomed!