I Get By.

So simple.  So beautiful.  And so very true.  As I find myself in my second new city in under a year, I find these words work their way into my psyche often.  A small but very important reminder that even though it may be a new adventure, I am never alone.

I am so grateful to have met the greatest people in my short but very sweet stay in the city that rhymes with fun.  To say that they played an important impact on my growth over the last little while is an understatement of gargantuan proportion.  Saying good bye is never easy, especially for someone like me.  I thrive on people and relationships; I love being surrounded by my peeps, my family and my community.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  The people I love, I tell them.  When I hug someone, I mean it.  I hold on for too long each and every single time, but my experience in the past year has solidified for me what we all know to be true, and that is our time here is very short.  Because it is so, I have an incredible and overwhelming desire to always let my people feel just how much I care, even if it means holding on for just a second too long.  And while I may have just landed in a new city that certainly doesn't rhyme with fun (I don't think it rhymes with anything but give me time) I am so fortunate to have already been the recipient of some great hugs that serve as an important reminder.  That a place is just geography and the heart and soul that you connect to and dig in with are the people.  A comforting thought when times get tough and maybe, if I'm being honest, a tad bit lonely.

And now, because this is a running blog, let's get down to it.  The nitty gritty and the dirty.

First, a confession.

My level of fitness is at an all time low.  For serious and for real.  My health is something that I value greatly, and fitness is certainly something that cannot be taken for granted when you are going to embark on multiple marathons.  I don't let it slide.  At least not usually.  At least not until now. 

I could spend time outlining the reasons why, and believe me, there are plenty!  But an excuse is an excuse no matter what way I choose to look at it.  I was busy...most people are.  I was in recovery post marathon in Regina...there are other ways to maintain fitness in recovery, I just chose not to engage in any of them.  I had a few long (albeit incredibly fun) evenings on the town in the bubble; the 5 block radius around my former diggs which included several great places for wine and beer and food.  50% off wine all day every day- gets a gal each and every time.  I attended football games where the beverage of choice was certainly not water.  Summer in a can (Coors light to the average person) tastes great every time but is maybe not the motivating force required to get my ass out of bed and into the gym, yoga studio, or onto the pavement. 

And so, I find myself in a place I haven't been to for quite some time.  I'm sure I've got abs under here somewhere and my junk in the trunk is carrying just a little more junk than is typical, yes, even for me.  Typically, this might weigh on my mind more than the average runner (an extra 5 doesn't feel awesome when you hit the pavement for a  run of any length), but while I'm in the mood to confess, here comes a second one.

I am motivated by the challenge of winning my fitness back.  Super motivated, actually.  So motivated I find myself referring to my fitness like it was human.  Telling it to take that.  Telling it I am owning it like a boss and telling it that not only will I earn it back, I will surpass it and it will be taken to the next level.  And so the challenge #45in30 was born.  Simple: 45 workouts in 30 days.  Because I'm an aggressive and goal oriented gal by nature, I originally intended for a #60in30 challenge.  A little voice outside of my head (named Siebz with long blonde hair and an affinity for all things football and adventure) informed me that 60 workouts in 30 days was maybe just a wee bit aggressive (or fucking crazy if we're being truthful) on the bod.  Thank goodness for reason, even if its not my own.

So where am I with this whole #45in30?  I'm 7 days and 8 workouts in.  Which means that I have 23 days to complete 37 workouts.  Which also means that on 14 of those days I will have to double up.  Unless I triple up some days.  Never say never, I tend to be crazy like that.  And, in case you're also wondering, I'm feeling pretty fabulous.  This challenge has reminded me of something that I don't usually forget, but seems to have gotten away from me in the past 30 days of moving madness, marathon recovery and good times in the bubble.  That is that when I show up on my mat, in the gym and on the road, I show up for my life in the way that I want to show up.  I show up BIG.  Life marches forward, faster and faster, and I have far too many goals to accomplish, dreams to actualize, people to inspire and adventures to have to show up any other way.  An important realization in light of my brand new adventure. 

And so, with my peeps behind me, and my fitness in front of me, onward and upward.  I will not just get by.  I will crush it. 

With a little help from my friends. 

The Race

I didn't have the race I wanted.

I had the race I needed.

Its just past two full weeks since the Queen City Marathon went down.  Two weeks I've sat with the result of the latest 26.2 I've pounded out and my thoughts have marinated and rested and are ready to be shared.  I've smiled when people asked me how my race went and I've commented the way that I almost always do post marathon:

"Any day you finish a 26.2 mile road race upright and smiling is a great day."

Truth?

It WAS a great day. 

Truth?

My race wasn't where I wanted it to be.  Not even close.  9 minutes off my personal best from New York City in 2011 and 16 full minutes away from what is the ultimate goal for me: a sub 3 hour race.  I've analysed the race inside and out; I've looked at my splits, checked my mile repeats and even thought about how I fuelled.  And in the end, I don't know that I have any sort of great explanation for why or how my race went the way it went.

But I do know this.  I may not have had the race I wanted, but I had the race I needed.  I realize there are many runners who will read this (and several of you very close to me) that will always direct me back to the numbers.  Some will tell me to review my total mileage in training.  They will tell me to look at the pace work I did both in speed and any kind of race pace training.  They will tell me to look at my splits and to dig in and to consider how all of these pieces fit into the puzzle.  And I know they're right and the logical part of my mind wants to believe that the answer is here for me.

But I know me, and I don't operate that way. That's just not me.  Some time ago, I wrote about the idea that I go by feel and by heart both in life and in running, and this is why I know and I trust that I had exactly the race I needed on race day.  There is something about this race that gave me what I needed most at that exact moment at that exact point in time.   Whether it was the pain that came in the effort (and the hurt came and it came HARD in this one), the freedom I felt in my mind just being in that brilliant space of moving meditation or the peace I felt in my heart about the beautiful chaos that is my amazing life, it was some thing that my soul craved and the universe provided.  It couldn't be more simple and it couldn't be more right.

And so  in the next training cycle (was there ever a doubt there would be another race?)  I'm sure that there will be tweaks and adjustments that push me a little differently towards the sub 3 hour race I covet.  But the biggest and most important point of it all will remain the same; and that's the love I have for the adventure and the journey that is preparing for and running the marathon.   The process and the sharing and the learning of my journey in running and how so very closely it parallels the journey that is life.  It truly is what keeps me going.

And just in case you're wondering what I'm about to get up to in training:

Fitness.  Fitness Fitness Fitness.  I'm coming for you.  I will earn you back.  Hills, the gym, yoga, swimming, biking (yes, biking) and everything and anything in between.  Look. Out. World.  I'm comin' for you.

Taper Time

I'm in this completely awesome (not awesome) space that the athletic world, and particularly the running world, refers to as the taper.  I've written about the taper before- the two weeks before go time race time where the running stops and rest allows your body to heal from the punishment of miles and miles and miles of training.  Its the best (and worst) time in marathon training.  Note that I am trying to stay very, very positive about the taper.  If you'd like a peek inside my brain (enter at your own risk), the running transcript inside my head looks a little something like this...

"WHAT?  My knee hurts.  I'm injured.  FML I'm injured.  Oh shit, it's not my knee.  Its my calf.  SHIT.  It feels tight and weird.  Oh no.  And now my throat hurts.  I'm getting sick.  How is this possible that I'm getting sick now, of all times.  Shit.  Hydration, I need to hydrate.  I'm dehydrated.  I need to drink way more, WAY MORE water.  And less beer.  Oh no.  Too much beer.  Probably 5 lbs worth in the last week.  This is not going to feel awesome on the course on race day.  Did I taper too soon, did I taper too late?  Should I have ran 40 in my last long run or just 38?  I'm not recovering.  What if it's hot on race day?  What if its cold?  What if aliens descend upon the marathon course right in the middle of the race when I'm on track for a PB?"

Would have.  Should have.  Could have.  Living in the past.  This does not serve me.

What if, what if, what if.  Living in the future.  This does not serve me.

Trusting that my training was what it was...not perfect, but it never will be...and it is ENOUGH.  Shutting the brain down and just BEING.  Being present in the moment.  This will serve me.  No action.  Just BE, as my beautiful friend, yoga teacher and life coach Tina Hnatiuk of Anala Yoga says.

The challenge for me in this taper (and every taper for that matter) is to stay right here, in the now.  To be present to how my body feels, but not attach to it.  To be kind to myself every single moment of every single hour of every single day and remember that I train hard and do all I can to be ready.  And to remember the reasons why I find myself running my 11th marathon, which are often lost as the mind takes over.

I'm in it for the 11th time because I love running.  Simple.  I love the mental challenge of getting through a hard mile and knowing that I did it.

Most of all, though,  I want every single person in the world to know, that if I can do this, you can do this.  It is a choice I make every single day- to get my feet into shoes and my shoes onto pavement and go running.  It doesn't have to be running, but it has to be something, the thing you find that allows you to get out of your head and into your heart.  That thing that supports you in letting go of doubt, fear and worry.  Everyone, EVERY SINGLE ONE deserves to feel this free.

And so, in T-8 days, I will be in one of the spaces I cherish the most.  On the marathon course.  Peace in my mind, happiness in my heart.  Running.  With thousands of others who have made the commitment to themselves.  Just so amazing.

And until then, I'm going to own this taper like a boss.  I'm going to sleep.  I going to yoga- and lots of it.  I'm going to spend time with so many people that I'd love to see more often that I sometimes don't because I'm running. 

Queen City Marathon.  I'm ready.

I Love a...

RAINY NIGHT!

Love this song.  Love the rain.  Love to run in the rain. 

Love.  Love, love, love.

Sometimes when it rains, it pours- sorry, my #yyc peeps- you're in tough, I know. 

Running in the rain is very freeing.  I would call it cathartic, even.  One muddy step after another through the puddles, and yes, your feet and shoes get wet, and you get dirt on your legs...

But your soul gets clean.  It gets free.  It might be a wee bit damp, but it sure does get energized.

So I dare you.  Get your feet into shoes, your shoes into puddles and go for a splash.  Go until your socks are wet and your shoes squish with each step and the water streams off your face.

You won't even notice- trust me.  You'll be smiling the whole way.

Strong.

I know that many of you have been waiting, waiting, waiting almost 3 weeks for my Saskatchewan marathon report, a race I race at the end of May.  Truthfully, I have found this race in particular tough to put into words.  I finished this race in 3:17, well off my personal best.  However, the race was a victory for me on so many different levels that I consider this one of the best races I have ever completed.  My tenth marathon.  One for the record books!

I learned a lot about the art of letting go of outcome and truly being in the moment over the course of this 26.2.  Endurance athletes, and particularly those of us that compete in races over and over again in an attempt to outrun the clock tend to be goal oriented, and often the goal is quite simply what the clock might read at the end of the race.  Going into Saskatoon, I knew that this race served as something so much more important for me.  I needed to prove to myself that I could stick to a race plan, no matter how I was feeling.  I needed to prove to myself that it really, really, really wasn't just about the result, but about the journey- and all the steps I have taken to get there, on so many different levels. 

But most of all I needed to do this to prove to myself that I was strong.  Not strong in the physical sense, but strong in the mental and emotional sense.  Marathons are tough endeavours.  Running for three hours is physically difficult, make no mistake, but it is the mental toughness that will get you through those hard miles.  And I have doubted mine.

2 weeks before this race, I lost someone very special to me.  Her name was Jo.  She had a massive aortic dissection on the 12th of May.  She survived long enough for her family to gather around her.  And then she passed away surrounded but those that she loved best- her sisters, nieces, nephews and family.  Jo had a profound and important impact on my life.  Most of what I knew about being a teacher I learned from Jo; and a lot of what I knew about being a human.  She was a constant in my life through very hard times and in the most amazing times.  I am thankful for the time we had together every day.  I already miss the matter of fact and blunt way that she offered the best advice, her laughter that could be heard down the halls like music and the way that she devoted herself to her family and her community.  But mostly I just miss the way that she cared about those important to her so lovingly and deeply.  The example she set in this regard is one that I will aim for every single day. 

Jo was one of the first people to ever tell me that I was strong.  I heard her voice in my head during the Saskatoon marathon almost constantly.  Running has always provided me with a platform to feel, if that even makes sense, in one way or another.  During this 26.2 in Saskatoon, I let myself feel whatever I was feeling.  Sometimes I laughed.  At times a cried.  Most of the time I smiled and thought about how lucky I was to have someone like Jo believe in me.  When the miles got hard and my body started to hurt, I would ask Jo if she was with me.  And in my head I would hear her say, "Andrea, of course I'm not with you- I effing DESPISE moving my body".  And my step got lighter, and I felt a little more free.  Just so Jo.

And in the end, I realized that maybe, just maybe, Jo was right, on some level, and that my tears weren't weakness or that fact that my body had to slow down was not failure.  It was just a part of the process.  And now I know that I can indeed get through it all.  That the challenges I have faced and over come in the last little while in life and in training certainly do require a certain amount of strength that no amount of pushups, squats, or miles can ever bring me.  

Thank you Jo for being in my life, for being the mirror I needed and for teaching me the most valuable of lessons.  I am grateful to have had you in my life.

Ready (OR NOT)...

Saskatoon.  I'm coming!

Full marathon in Saskatoon: T-11days.

Never before have I been less physically prepared for a marathon.

Never before have I been mentally so ready for a marathon.

I need to race.  I want to race.  I'm craving a race.  Totally, inexplicably and completely jonesin' for one, in fact.  To feel so mentally prepared but maybe not so physically prepared is new and uncharted territory for me.  The usual state of being for me is that my fitness is something I simply do not doubt.  I work my ass off (sometimes literally- that's for you my gypsy friend ;) to keep myself at a level of fitness and marathon readiness at all times and is something I remain seriously dedicated to.  Mentally, in the past, I have struggled with doubt and fear that I may not be as ready as I need to be.  The closer to the race, the more these feelings escalate.  Not a super awesome place to be, as you can imagine, when you're about to slip feet into shoes to pound out a 26.2.

And then this winter happened.  And I have questioned so many things about what I know, who I am, what I'm doing it all for and more...in running and in life.

I wish I could say that I've figured it all out and that I have some reason to believe that my training will speak for itself in Saskatoon.  The truth?  I don't know.  The truth about not knowing?  Sometimes I'm OK with it.  And sometimes I'm terrified.  I've never been a runner that does things by the numbers, just like I've never been a person that does things by the numbers.  I go by heart and by feel.  By passion and by love.  By what feels good and feels right.  And the times I stray from my truth, my realness in life and in running, the more I am reminded that I am who I am, and I do what I do and there is not any one reason to make it any different.  Some of my friends, and my running ones in particular, think that this is simply crazy talk.  To not have a solid number in total mileage or an idea of heart rate training zone or pace or any sort of idea of where I'm running based on track intervals would lead them to think that I've likely lost my marbles.  But for me, right here and right now, its just not about that.  It is about heart.  It is about passion.  And it is about being in and contributing to the tangible vibration and energy in the air that will surely be present on the day of the race.  While I may not know much else, I certainly do know that.  And so, on Sunday in just 11 short days, I won't be toeing the line for any kind of a time or expectation of a finish.  I'll just be there because I love to be there and I can't imagine being anywhere else at that moment in time. 

Let's get running.  Its time.

I Heart Boston.

I feel compelled to write about the horrific events at the finish of yesterday’s Boston marathon.  It’s been a while since I laced up the old joggers and pounded out the 26.2 from Hopkinton to Boston proper…5 years a while to be exact.  However, as most runners and marathoners will tell, there is something so sacred and so honourable about the Boston marathon.  That city, that race, the amazing runners, volunteers and spectators (a million strong J), they do hold a special place in my heart.  And my heart is broken for them after the senseless violence at the finish line yesterday.

In the wake of the horrific tragedy that ended the Boston marathon 2013, my heart is heavy.  I am so sorry for the families who lost loved ones.   My heart aches for those who are injured, for runners who lost limbs and for parents who lost children in this senseless act of violence.  I am so sad for the runners, many of whom have had their Boston moment (which many have trained their entire lives to earn the privilege to have) end in tragedy rather than in celebration.  To cross the finish line in Boston, amongst the supporters, families and volunteers in a marathon so steeped in tradition is a feeling of elation that is not easily put into words.  For me, it was life changing.  It was in those moments where I simply could not imagine doing anything differently or being anywhere else.  It was the truest and most simple form of being in and appreciating the moment.  I remember clearly running up Boylston Street in the last kilometer and hearing my parents and sister cheering for me before I saw them.  I witnessed tears of joy, cries of victory and strangers hugging as runners from all over the world accomplished something that was once a seemingly impossible goal; to run in and cross the finish line in the Boston marathon.  A simple, beautiful vision and goal made  real in those 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Boston. 

Today, I did what most other runners also did today…I went running.  But today, more than any other day,  I was so filled with gratitude that I am fortunate enough to be a part of the running community that my run simply took on a whole other meaning.  It wasn’t for training and it wasn’t for race preparation and it wasn’t for exercise.  It was because I could.  It was to stand in community with other runners and to do what runners always do when it’s hard and when it hurts and when there is nothing else to do- we get our feet into shoes and our shoes onto pavement.  One foot in front of the other.  We run.  And we just keep running.