Why I'm Running New York...in 2012

Oh yeah, don't you just want to join them?  Source

When I started my blog last year, I was all about running a marathon.  One marathon in particular - the New York Marathon.  But by the time I decided that I wanted to run a marathon, I was way past the lottery deadline, which obviously meant that unless my name was Kara Groucher or Heidi Klum, no one was letting me enter the race.

My name isn't Paula Radcliffe either.  Source

Well, actually, that's not entirely true.  I could have entered the race through a charity spot, but I would have had to front two-thousand dollars because they had fund-raising deadlines, and the $2K mark was about a minute after I decided I wanted to run the marathon.  Resigned, I decided that even though I couldn't run New York, I would run something else, and picked a Team in Training Race, the San Francisco Half Marathon.

But then it turned out that I'm lousy about asking people for money.  I just couldn't do it.  Not because I don't believe in the Team in Training's cause at all.  I do.  I respect their cause.  How can you not respect a charity's cause though, unless it's like "Save the keg at the frat party" or "Eliminate all taxes to stimulate the economy"?

Maybe I should have put up a billboard in Times Square?

It felt strange to champion a cause that didn't feel personal to me.  I mean everyone wants a cure for cancer, but  for me, things like heart disease, poverty, women's rights, and education about nutrition tug more at my heart strings that TNT's mission.  The truth is, I felt like my fundraising mission, should have been renamed, "Help Amanda Run a Marathon."

So I switched to a marathon that didn't have any barriers to entry, aside from a little entrance fee.  Talk about commitment problems?

I love, love, love running next to the water.

For the remainder of the summer, I trained hard for the Philadelphia Marathon instead, all the while working on qualifying for New York with their 9+1 program.  That summer and fall, I really fell in love with the marathon training.   I also fell in love with my city as I got to see her in a way I had never thought possible.

The Intrepid Air & Museum, never been in it but all those planes look cool.

A quiet, cool, fall morning.

When the marathon finally arrived, I was welcomed to Philly by friends and accompanied by an awesome cheerleading squad.  Without the support of my friends and family, I'm not sure I would have even finished my marathon.  The race was hard, and though I had trained for it, and expected it, there was something missing from it all.  Looking back, I can see, while I wanted to run a marathon, more than that I wanted to run one very specific marathon and that one's not in Philadelphia.

My Cheer Squad - the BEST part of the Philly Marathon!

After the marathon, I muddled around finishing up my qualifications for the 9+1 program, half-heartedly running, eating lots of cheeseburgers and drinking all the wine that my training program didn't allow.  I had qualified for the New York Marathon and was eligible to run it in 2011, and though I signed up for it, I couldn't muster up an ounce of enthusiasm.

Beers after a spring race, cause that's how I recover.

I ran a few races that spring, enjoying the shorter distances and the freedom those distances allowed in my social life.  The specter of NY hung over my head through the winter, spring and into the summer.  I had signed up so as to not lose my qualification, but though I no longer babbled about my running like I had the previous summer, I couldn't admit defeat.

I went to Barcelona instead of training for NYC.

Cause that's what it felt like.  After all the blog jibber-jabber about running New York, I felt like I had to run it in 2011.  What can I say?  I've always had a problem with doing what I should be doing as opposed to what I want to do.

Finally, about three weeks ago, when the longest run I had run in several months was seven miles, I had to concede that my training was not going to be sufficient to allow me to run the marathon.

I was watching baseball with my "buds" instead of running.  Ooops!

And so I deferred.

Yep, I threw all those self-imposed restrictions out the door.

As soon as I was free of the pressure to run the marathon, I got back on the computer and started blogging like a mad-woman again.  I started reading lots of running blogs once again, searching out new blogs about running which I had previously avoided post Philly because they made me feel like a loser for not wanting to run a marathon.  I bought a new pair of shoes which I hadn't done since March.  I made a plan to run the Detroit  half-marathon and did my first long run on the West Side Highway of the summer.  I downloaded new music just for a run.

Once upon a time boats used to actually use these piers.

Then I logged another long run, and another one, and another one.  And suddenly I remembered, how much I loved training for the marathon and how much I wanted to run New York.

Just like that, I was back on the marathon train.

Running is such a conflicted beast.  On one hand, there is the satisfaction of achieving a new distance or new PR, but on the other hand there are the physical limits of the body.  And yet, the body wants to run even when it's limping, aching, and depleted.  And the mind, oh the mind, it wants to continue to feel the high that can come only from sheer exhaustion at the end of another great run.

Looking back, I can see that a huge reason the Philly marathon was such a struggle for me was that I had over-trained for it by not taking a break from running for over a year.  By the time, I got to the race, my gas tank had a gigantic hole in it.

yeah, i just needed a break.

After my first marathon, my lack of enthusiasm and energy, which masqueraded as severe disappointment, was my own body's way of telling me to take it easy.  I needed time to heal.

Almost a year later, the scars are almost gone.  My hips no longer constantly ache, and my body, though carrying around a few more pounds, doesn't feel like its been beaten up anymore.

But it's my heart that feels the most changed because when as I write this story and see all those running pictures, it starts beating a little faster, and a smile that I can't stop comes to my face.  And just like, the fire is back.  2012 here I come.

Music Mondays and What My Spinning Teacher Made Me Do

Before I was into running, I used to wake up at eight in the morning on a Saturday, walk to Union Square for not one, but two, spinning classes in a row.

Why in the world would I do that?

Because I was bored and had nothing else to do?

Because I was trying to understand why hamsters run on those wheels for hours and hours?

Because I was preparing for the Tour de France?

Perhaps because I liked pain and sweating?

Because there was a really hot guy I was trying to impress in the class?

Because it made me feel better about the cheeseburger and beers I would have while watching Michigan kick Notre Dame's butt? 

Nope, nope, and nope.  None of those.  I went because I liked it.

Sitting on a bike, or anything really, for an hour and a half and not going anywhere despite a bucket of sweat and maybe a few tears, is maddening stuff - except when you've got the right music and words. 

And Saturday mornings at the NYSC in Union Square one of the best spinning teachers ever taught two classes in a row - and I sure as hell wasn't going to miss out on even one minute of it.  And, if you think I'm the only nutball to do this, let me correct you:  Not only did about half of the class stay for both sessions, but people would line up at the door for the class.  I'd even witnessed a fight or two for the last remaining bike. 

No, we're not all going insane here.  Instead, were here for the magic.

Week after week, I've shared the music that moves me.  But that's only the half of the story.  A good song does not make a spinning class.  The spinning teacher does. 

Some like to motivate by offering words of inspiration and encouragement.  "You came here for a reason.  This set is it," says one teacher.  "This is your hardest piece of work today," says another, likening a workout to a physical thing that we give to ourselves.

Others create fictional scenarios, in which we must call upon our imaginations and glycogen stores in equal measure.  "Imagine your ex is chasing you up this hill," says one shrill voiced instructor.  "Think of someone in your life who needs you in some way; they are standing at the finish line waiting for you," says another. 

Some don't even need to use words. They just climb up on the bike in front and sweat it out with us.  Their breathy voices, shouting out commands.  One teacher, who had the most estatic following I've ever seen, wouldn't say little besides a short, "Yeah," and always rapping a ringed finger on his bike - perhaps in encouragement or lost in his own cycling high.  Another never stepped on a bike, but would lift his hands and face to the sky, almost as if praising the spinning gods - or maybe to get a breath of fresh air from all the stinky spinners. 

But lately, I've become enamored with a teacher who likes to take a interactive approach to class.  He repeatedly asks us for a "Hell yeah!" in class.  I'm generally not one to hollar out during class, but his infectious requests get to me.  Even though, I'm not the loudest or most enthusiastic, I love to hear him ask the class.

And then, last week he asked us to sing.  Excuse me?  I can barely breathe, let alone sing.  But that's what he wanted us to do.  And then he climbed off his bike, onto one of the empty bikes in the room, jacked up the music and when it was time, he sang:

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier.
I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier..."

It was not what I expected, but it was awesome.  Thank you!

From my spinning class,

All these things that I've done by the Killers (The "I've got soul song)



Girls Like You by the Naked and Famous

Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw

You and I by Lady Gaga

But don't take my word for it.  Try it for yourself.

 

The Marathon

I wrote this post ages ago, but couldn't get up the courage and strength to post it. But now that some time has passed, I am ready and I think you should know what really fueled my marathon.



An strong sense of self empowerment develops when training for a marathon. I am strong enough to persevere; I have run a thousand miles this year; I am running a marathon. I did this. I am strong enough to do this. I am awesome.

It’s a very selfish, decidedly narcissistic journey.

Indeed, through much of my marathon training I have thought little but of myself. Too many people in my life, have heard some variation of an excuse on why I am tired, particular about plans or just plain old missing in action.

Armed with that singular sense of determination and confidence in my training, I packed my bags and headed off to Philadelphia to run my very first marathon.

But the thing that you can never know about running a marathon until you actually do, is what running a marathon is like. It’s a curious thing. But aren’t all the great moments like that? Weddings, child birth, tests, death, LIFE. You just don’t know until you do and then it’s really too late, because you are already two hours and thirteen miles away from home and the only way to dig yourself out of the mess is to just keep on going.

The marathon was hard. There is no other way to describe it. At mile nine, I thought to myself, this is it, I am running the marathon, but inside I didn’t feel like I thought I would. I didn’t feel excited nor did I hurt in any sort of serious way. I just felt like I was running and running and running and running….with no end in sight.



Around that ninth mile, I started asking myself what I was doing. Self-doubt settled in, and I thought about the impending holidays when I would have to go home and explain why I ran a marathon so slowly. The 5:30 pace group passed me and I tried to keep up with them for a minute but my legs, no my heart, was not in it, and so I fell behind.

Still I kept on going because after all via Facebook and this blog, I had told the whole world that I was running a marathon and goshdarnit, if I was going to quit, I sure as hell wasn’t going to quit the race when I wasn’t even half way done. Who does that? I had just run a half marathon in October, surely single digit miles weren’t going to break me now.

So I just kept on going, because I could. My feet were still moving. But secretly, I was hoping that I would faint or throw-up or strain a hamstring. Yes, I was wishing for my own demise. While I felt a little tired, what I really felt was disheartened about how much more was left to go and I was embarrassed about how slow I was running.

I wanted to be able to stamp on this race and its dismal showing an awesome excuse. I wanted to quit and then come home and regal everyone with stories of how I tried to run a marathon but then ended up convulsing and heaving at mile twelve and was forced to quit by the race regulators. Or I wanted a severe limp for a few weeks, that would grant me bragging rights and office chatter about my valiant attempts to run a marathon, and the vain excuse to tell the whole world, “oh yeah, I tried to run a marathon and look how hard I tried. I injured myself in the process.”



Yet, my dreams of self sabotage were not to be. After all, I did train for this thing. And for my body to give out before the half way mark, nothing short of a Christmas miracle would have had to occur. I don’t want to brag, but at this point, running thirteen miles isn’t that hard anymore.

There I go again. I’m letting my ego take over.

At mile thirteen there is a point in the race where the half marathoners and full marathoners split off. I thought seriously about splitting off to the left and taking the short way home. But I knew that my friends ,who were in Philadelphia for the sole reason to cheer me on, were waiting for me just beyond mile thirteen and when I reached the literal and figurative fork in the road I took the long road because I couldn’t make their trip to Philadelphia for nothing. If nothing else, I was going to cross that finish line because they had crossed state lines, rearranged work schedules and made the best posters ever…FOR ME.

And so I kept on running.

And running.

And walking and running and walking and running and walking and running.

Because in the craziest twist of fate ever, finishing a marathon had nothing to do with how much I had trained or how determined I was.

When I passed my friends at the halfway mark, I still struggled. I almost broke down and had a good cry. In my head, I rehearsed a speech I would give to my family at Thanksgiving about how despite my snail pace, I had still managed to achieve my goal and that there was pride in that.

As the miles crept towards twenty and the fast runners passed me (after the 13th mile mark in the Philadelphia marathon it’s an out and back course where you run 6.5 miles out and run around a orange cone and come back the way you came), I questioned my will to run the marathon. It was especially tempting to just fake a stretch and then cut across to the other side and pretend that I had run the whole distance.

So why didn’t I quit? Or why didn’t I cheat? Because, I wasn’t running the marathon alone. Far from it. My friends had travelled to another city to visit me, my family stalked the website, and for every person who has ever read a post of my blog EVER, you were all with me, powering my legs, lungs, and will.



Yes, I am admitting that if I had run this marathon and told no one, I would have quit.

But I finished.

And I finished because you were there, even if you weren’t. You were, in my head and in my heart.

Maybe you have already learned this lesson, but I hadn’t. I always thought that I was smart or strong or creative enough to work my way out of any situation. But what I didn’t know was that, when times get rough, when you want to quit, when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, that we pull ourselves up from the end of earth because of someone else. I didn’t finish that marathon because I had trained so hard or because I wanted to, but because of my readers, cheerleaders, and family.

So thank you for reading my blog and most importantly, thank you for believing in me. I know you might not think that your good wishes matter but even if you didn’t say it, even if you didn’t think it, even if you didn’t come to Philly to cheer me on, I felt the weight of announcing to the whole world (ok, my whole world) that I was running a marathon, and so I ran a marathon.

And that’s all that matters. Thank you for thinking, reading, watching, hoping, wishing, and wanting for me.



Because I only ran for you.

Thanks to Lisa Torrieri for the great pictures!

Reading List

Long before I can remember, when I was too little to know my letters from my numbers, my mom and dad would crawl into bed with me and read me a story.
To this day, I can't fall asleep unless I read something. Even now, I still read at least one page or scroll through Facebook status updates (YES! that counts as reading) on my Blackberry before finally, finally, shutting my eyes.

To that end, I thought that I would share what I've really enjoyed reading over the past few days.

Book: 'Too Big to Fail' by Andrew Ross Sorkin - trust me, it's awesome, though I might be biased since I work in this industry. But I think it is actually a great read even if you don't work in the industry because it's not really about the technical details and more about the people - which is always interesting.



Magazine: Right now, an old Newsweek and the latest Elle magazine.

News website: Always, nymag.com and nytimes.com - between these two babies I get my dose of gossip, research and current events. But this week, I spent some time on the NY Observer as well.

Blogs: See my blog roll (the right side bar on my page) for the list of blogs I read daily. I like to follow the comments and find new blogs to read too. The blogs I read everyday are:

ChoosingRaw: If you have ever struggled with eating healthy, this is your blog. Yes, it's about a raw diet, but peppered in between articles on raw walnut cheese and collard greens wraps, are articles on encouragement and inspiration for those *trying* to live a healthier live - vegan, raw, or not.

Loves Veggies & Yoga: Averie is also a raw foodist, but she has a lot of great cooked recipes too. In fact, every single post is littered with links to recipes, all of which are pretty simple and irresistable looking.

No Meat Athlete: Again a vegetarian site about running, he has a lot of well researched articles on training and eating. I highly recommend this site for runners (or endurance athletes) and/or vegetarians.

Some of the best things I've read on the web lately:



The Pioneer Woman's Sisters Photography Contest

Gena from ChoosingRaw.com's post for National Eating Disorders Awareness Week. The comments are as powerful as the post.

A sad and funny story from dooce.com. This is her best one that I've read to date.

The Diet Book Junkie's post "Facebook: is it making up happier or making us feel like crap?"

Grub Street's theory on why people will wait for not-so-great food.

Now that Jersey Shore is the top five shows on TV, everyone can get understand why Manhattan might want to set traps for the B&T crowd.

No Meat Athlete's post on why failure might be a good thing.

What are you reading these days? Do you have a favorite blog or website that you have to check every day?

I Was Born...Beautiful

Cause I'm crazy for Lady Gaga and also, Operation Beautiful is a very cool grassroots organization!

The Short but Meaningful Life of the Marathoner's Sneaker

It started out as a little ache in my right foot and became a dull pain in my hamstring, before finally stopping me in my tracks when my left knee started throbbing.

Had the running finally gotten to me?

Was this half-marathon training schedule too intense?

Nope. All I needed was a new pair of running shoes.

The latest pair were bought about six weeks before the marathon and I ran two 20 milers on them, plus all the other workouts in between. Running shoes only last about 300-400 miles, and for me it's closer to the 300 mile mark.

So, that night I left work at six o'clock on the dot and headed to the running store.

"One of these, please," I said to the store clerk waving my favorite running shoe in the air.

"Would you like to try them on?"

"No thanks. I have five pairs of them already," and with that I got my sixth pair of running shoes in a year.

So what exactly happens to all those sneakers? Well, they start off looking all clean and fluffy.



Then put them on your feet, run all over Manhattan, and Brooklyn too, just for fun.

Don't forget to jump in the puddles when running around the reservoir.



Check out how much the entire rubber sole has been compressed and worn down.



They started out looking like this.



Stick sweaty feet inside them every day. (The ones on top are the new ones, with the old orthodics in them.)



Download the best running songs...



Check all the stress and worries at the door...



And just run.

Made in Detroit

This blog is about many things but as the name of this blog suggests, it's mostly about me running in New York City.

The city where dreams are made. The city that never sleeps. The city that makes you when it can't break you. The city. New York is where I live and I shamelessly adore it. It's not always easy living here. Often times, I feel like the score is NY: 50, Amanda: 5. This city kicks my ass more often then I like to admit.

And yet, despite all of this, I put my rain boots on, curse out the city in a tone the suggests pride, annoyance and wonder all at once, and keep on going. Yep, it's my city, warts and all.But as much as New York is the city of my moment, I am no New Yorker.

If you don't live here, I might seem like one to you with my black clothing and intimate knowledge of subway trains, but in New York City I am just another one of the city's many imports.

The new Chrysler 200 commercial featuring Eminem debuted during the Super Bowl on Sunday, and it was, in a word, awesome. The whole time it was on, I kept on squealing, OMG, that's Detroit! That's Hart Plaza! That's Joe Louis's arm! That's the Spirit of Detroit! The beat to Eminem's 'Lose Yourself' building, as I swelled with pride...for the city that I no longer live in.

How can I feel proud of something and want to lay claim to a place from which I left five years ago? A bigger insult couldn't exist than writing a blog about the very city I ran to, a clear snub to the city I left behind.

The truth is that I didn't leave Detroit because I didn't like it. I didn't run away to New York because of some Sex and the City fantasy or because of the economy. I left because I wanted to find a new path for myself on my own. I always had my sights set on leaving.

In the sixth grade, we were asked to predict where we would be in fifteen years and then read the prediction aloud. I bet a lot of my fellow sixth graders don't remember that day, but I do. They all announced varying dreams of professional sports careers, six figure cars, houses with double digit rooms, and more than a few had a kid or two figured in already. Everyone except me. You know what I said? Fifteen years ago I thought that I would be living in Paris studying art right now.

Oh how silly and idyllic I was once upon a time.

So I didn't really get it right, but living in New York City, accountant by day, blogger by night isn't that far off when I really think about it.

And Detroit? Well, that's part of my life tapestry. I create networks through Wolverines. It's an icebreaker too, as almost everyone I know has asked me at one point if I live on eight mile (no, thirteen mile). And when it gets cold in New York, I have to act tough because I'm from Detroit, which is like Antartica to people here. I notice when the cabs are American made cars, and when they aren't. And I love the fall in NY - not because the heat finally breaks and everyone comes back from the beach - but because it's college football time. Oh yeah, that's all because I was made in Detroit.

The Secret to a Great Spinning Class

What's up with spinning teachers and the remix of Alanis Morisette's Uninvited?

I have heard this remix played in multiple classes from every type of teacher. I've heard it in the class with the old school road racer who teaches hour long climbs just for fun, and in the crazy, metrosexual, Brazilian fitness buff's house music fueled class and today in the girl who wears only Lululemon and plays the best music ever's class.

Seriously, is there an unspoken code between spinning instructors about this song?

Ready, Set, Go

As anyone who has ever spent months upons months preparing for one big day, a few miniscule moments of life, knows, when the countdown can be kept in hours, rather than days, mixed feelings abound.

From food choices to my social calendar, for the last five months everything has been organized around a training regime. It started out as a chore. A chore whose results I desired, but whose tasks I did not enjoy nor really mind. It was simply a part of my life to be tolerated, much like brushing my teeth. But over time, toleration turned into adoration.

The logical assumption is that running thirty plus miles a week has flooded my body with so many endorphins that it was just a hangover from the "runner's high." Perhaps that is part of the answer, but the real cause of this love affair with running is this blog. Finally putting pen to paper (ehh, fingers to computer) and expressing all the crazy thoughts that come to me when running, turned out to be the x-factor in this marathon training plan. Just as much as I have enjoyed conquering each mile, I have loved sharing my experience.

But all good things must come to an end, and the marathon is right around the corner. After the marathon, I will post once more to recap the marathon and then I will plan on signing off until next marathon training season. But before I head out to Philadelphia for the experience of a lifetime, I wanted to share (once more) my favorite blog posts and the story of my blogging/running experience. Read through them once more and then lace up your shoes, and do something that you always wanted to do but never thought you could do.

Here's my first real blog post: Waking Up and Working Out. It's by no means the best one, but it's my first and thus that makes it special.

I had written Central Park Jogger long before I actually typed it out. Central Park brings so many runners together and those runners put all of my excuses out of business. If they can do it, so can I.

Mid-summer I changed jobs, and this inspired a story about quitting a run. Quitters is one of the first times I tried to draw a parallel between life and running. It's right around this post that I finally found my blogging voice and started to love the blogging as much as the running.

Is it hot in here or what? represents my second foray into drawing a parallel between life and running. This time I tried to show how running through the second hottest summer in New York helped me reconnect with my sixteen year old self. Corny? Maybe, but then again the heat makes me do crazy things.

By the end of September, my love affair with marathon training was in full swing and this post was my attempt at trying to get others to drink the Kool-aid. For the love of the run might be my favorite.

October brought some pre-marathon anxiety and worry, but these were quickly resolved when I volunteered to help at NYRR's Grete's Great Gallop Half Marathon and then I shared my story in Plus One, Minus One Wall.

And now, I'm off to Philadelphia to run twenty-six point two miles.

Some Great Stories about the NY Marathon

This past Sunday's marathon filled me with equal parts fear and hope. But rather than go into all the things that I'm worried about, I thought I'd share some of the great stories that came out of this weekend.

Haile Gebrselassie comes to NY for the first time and then didn't finish. But no matter, this 37 year old runner from Ethopia is the greatest in the sport and holds the world record.

This is the highlights reel of the marathon. Did you know Al Roker ran? In just over 7 hours? Also, a lady who has run 10 marathons in this year alone, plus our favorite, the Chilean miner and his escorts.

Nothing inspired me more than the story of Shalane Flanagan making her marathon debut (hey, so am I in Philly!) and also coming in second place, the first time an American woman has finished that high in over two decades.

Enjoy!

Today, I'm running my last long run.

The days you think are going to be big ones, they are never as big as you make them out to be in your head. It’s the regular days, the ones that start out normal, those are the days that end up being the biggest.

Today marks my last long run. It's the last weekend where I will have to start thinking about what I'm eating two whole days before the big workout. It's the last time that I will be "busy" one night of the weekend. Busy eating, sleeping and running, that is. It's the last weekend morning that I will wake up early and venture out into the city that never sleeps during her morning nap.

So naturally, I'm jumping for joy that I finally get that long run day back to myself. Not so much.

I'm not sure when these long runs went from chore to pleasure, but I suddenly love every inch of them from the waking-up-early-part to the cold-bath-part. Of course, those long runs aren't all cupcakes and sunshine. I usually hit one or two patches during the run when my mind becomes hyper-conscious of every footstep already taken and everyone footstep yet to come and the miles stretch out for days.

But it's awful and awesome all at the same time.

When I cross my "finishing line" and stumble to a bench to stretch out, I'm all smiles. In fact, before I even finish, as I shuffle down musuem mile past all the tourists taking pictures of the park and the museums, I'm smiling like a fool. I hope I'm doing my part to dispell the myth about angry New Yorkers.

That sense of accomplishment after a run is so huge and yet so singular and personal. During the run, it's all about the next step, but when it's over, and I stare down the miles past, I still cannot help but be surprised that I actually ran that far. I imagine that for someone who has been running their whole life - the Ryan Halls of the world - that this would just be another day. But to me, who only two summers ago I tackled my first run in Central Park by running barely a mile and a half, to me, it's almost a miracle.

I've definitely had periods in my life where I've been more fit than I was two years ago. In high school, I was borderline obsessed with swimming and trained year round, sometimes twice a day. During graduate school I picked up a six mile a day run habit. But when I moved to the Big Apple, working long hours and partying took precedence and my health fell to the wayside. And that was exactly how I envisioned my life unfolding in this city. After all, isn't that what we see on television and in the movies?

Life in this city is supposed to be a grand whirl of new restuarants and designer coctails, four inch high heels and jobs that require late hours and suits. Or it's about trying to make it for the love of your art, and discovering the awesome counter-culture that thrives in every corner of the city not overgrown with tourists. But instead of all of that glamour, I found my way, dirty and sweaty, on a run.

And that's why I will miss these long runs, because each time I finish a long run, it reminds me that things never turn out the way that I expect, and that good things come from the small and seemingly inconsequential decisions. They fill my weeks with a regular and grand sense of accomplishment that gives me the courage and the strength to try to tackle the impossible in other areas of my life. As the sports writer John Hanc put it, "I've learned that finishing a marathon isn't just an athletic achievement. It's a state of mind; a state of mind that says anything is possible."



Quote from "What a Difference A Day Makes" of Grey's Anatomy.

Addicted

Like any addict, I didn’t think this was going to happen to me. It started as a once in a while habit – a pick me up after a late night of cramming for exams. It wasn’t long though before I progressed to a daily fix, first laden with sugar and milk, and then as the addiction grew roots into my system, I craved it black and scalding hot. If I didn’t get my cup of coffee first thing in the morning , there was no hope for the day.

Though I was completely hooked on my daily cup, I had not reached junkie-status. A cup or two a day did the trick often enough. I probably would have continued on in this state for years, had I not decided to enter the world of marathons. Long
training runs and daily six a.m. workouts demanded that I start thinking about how I fueled my body immediately before and during strenuous exercise.

But instead of turning to whole foods, I followed popular training advice and decided to supplement with scientifically formulated options from the running store. Shot blocks, gels, sport beans, chomps – whatever you call them. They are small, sweet, portable snacks, no bigger than two tablespoons and contain the proper ratio of electrolytes and simple carbohydrates. To make the gels sexy, extra vitamins or herbs are added to the gels promising to help a runner go faster for longer. In plain English, they’re legal performance enhancers.


Being a coffee addict, I naturally scoffed at the super herbs and amino acids, and went straight for the extra caffeine. Between 60-70% of all the products contain some caffeine. The average is about 30 mg of caffeine which equates to 20-30% of an average cup of drip coffee. But, I’m trying to run a marathon here.

I need all the help I can get.

So I skipped right over the ones that said caffeine to the ones reading ‘2x caffeine.’ At first, I only took one ‘2x caffeine’ during the last 3-4 mile slug. But as my mileage creeped up, I switched over to only amped-up caffeine dosages, so that I was soon consuming the equivalent of 1-2 cups of coffee during the run. That’s in addition to the two cups that I downed with breakfast Then I discovered the espresso shot gel from Clif Bars. 100mg of pure caffeine right before the run to put me at around 5 cups of coffee on a long run day – all before noon. At that rate, I was going to need an IV from Starbucks on race day to feel any effects whatsoever.


Then I read this interesting book called “Thrive: The Vegan Nutrition Guide to Optimal Performance in Sports and Life” by Brendan Brazier. The book espouses an excellent theory about how to nourish your body while performing extreme exercise, and it also highlighted a rather obvious principle about the use of stimulants during exercise. (And no, it’s not the vegan meals that help you perform better either. Here’s a link to the No Meat Athlete’s blog post on the basic premise of his book if you are interested.)

There are two ways to get energy: directly from food consumed or stimulation. When I eat a banana and a granola bar, the carbohydrates, fat and protein in these items will help fuel my impending run. My body will literally digest the food and use it directly to power the run, as opposed to storing it for later (for fat) or for regular maintenance (cell regeneration). When I drink a cup of coffee, it will stimulate my body and only feel like I have increased energy. I’m buying energy on credit when I drink a cup of coffee, and I’m paying for energy with cash when I eat a banana. But when the workout is over, my body pays back that energy plus interest, leaving me exhausted for the remainder of the day.

In “Thrive” Brendan doesn’t discourage the use of caffeine to enhance workouts but he strongly advocates that it should be used sparingly and only during the most strenuous workouts or races. By only using caffeine sparingly, a true burst of energy and endurance is felt. Just like I plan to race my marathon in a lighter pair of Brooks running shoes than I’ve been training in, the idea that I would be able to actually feel a surge of energy from a cup of coffee seemed like it could be a huge physical (and psychological) advantage.

So I quit coffee. One day I woke up and just didn’t have my daily cup. I did the same the next day too, and the day after that. This was not a painless activity. The first day I felt lightheaded, the second day I had a pounding headache, and the third day I couldn’t focus. Note what I didn’t feel: tired, which is naturally what I assumed I would feel without my daily kick in the pants. Eventually, after less than a week’s time all withdrawal symptoms had passed. .


After abstaining from coffee for a whole week, I had my first cup of coffee right before a long run. Not only did I feel the coffee stimulate my body into overdrive, but I felt excited and even giddy about a four hour workout. Then when I set out on my run, that nervous energy dissipated into a cool, lightness which took me right through the eighteen mile hurdle. After failing to complete eighteen miles on two separate occasions, when I finally did conquer that distance, I felt that I had reached pre-run fueling nirvana – if such a thing exists.

I’m oddly very proud that I kicked my coffee habit, and super psyched about the new little boost that I can look forward to from a cup of coffee on race days. And that’s just the thing about running marathons. It takes me to places both literally and figuratively that I never before imagined. A year ago I would have acted as if giving up coffee was akin to going without air, but now after a few pages from some book, I’m off it.


To someone who hasn’t run a marathon, the greatest part of the whole exercise would seem to be crossing that finish line, but as I’m getting closer and closer to my big day, I have a sneaking suspicion that the race is just the cherry on top. More and more, the training seems to be the most magical part – from the way a fellow marathoner can become an instant friend to the surprise realization that I can get ready for work – including a shower – in under 15 minutes. But of course, I still haven’t actually run a marathon yet, so what do I know?

Plus One, Minus One Wall

This marathon story isn’t ending in Philadelphia. That’s just the beginning.

In 2011, I will run the New York Marathon through the nine plus one program offered by New York Road Runners. Nine plus one, means that I must run nine New York Road Runners Races and then I must volunteer for one more race. So far, I’ve run six races and on Saturday, I took care of my “plus one.”

After a rainy and humid week, the last thing I wanted to do on the first cool and sunny day in a week was watch other people run. But I did it anyway, because I want to run New York more than I want to sleep. My primary responsibility was to keep the tourists, recreational runners and bicyclers from getting in the way of the race. My secondary responsibility was to cheer for the runners. I’m not kidding. That is actually what we are supposed to do.

The race was a half marathon and I was stationed at the five mile and eleven mile marks. I was so excited to be stationed at mile eleven. I couldn’t wait for the runners who would be feeling just like I felt at my half marathon last fall. I had big plans for them. When they came by, I wanted to yell and cheer them up and give them the hope they could finish the remaining two point one miles with strength and speed.

I waited and waited. I stood there for over two hours, but I never saw one person who looked like they were suffering. There were tired ones, sweaty ones, focused ones, ones who were bopping their heads to their music, and others with crazy costumes, but every single one of those crazy running fools looked like they were having a great time. Not one of those expressions read, I don’t want to be doing this.

I know exactly how it feels to run and to race. I know that pain that settles into your hamstrings and doesn’t leave. I know what it’s like to spend twenty seconds bending each knee after three hours of running. I know that certain pairs of my shoes just won’t fit after a run, and that I shouldn’t use my sea salt scrub because chafe marks that won’t show up for a few hours will sting instantly.

What I didn’t know: it doesn’t look as bad as it feels.

Seeing those marathoners reminded me that this crazy adventure is really about the strength of one little muscle: my brain. That’s why the best marathoners in the world aren’t twenty-two; they’re thirty-five. Maturity makes for a stronger mental fortitude. Physical strength and endurance is necessary but each time I’m out there putting the miles on feet, I am putting them on my mind too.

Now that I’ve figured out the magic ingredient, I finally have a response to those nagging doubts. More than another run or carbohydrate, I needed to believe that I can run a marathon. I’ve gotten so hung up on the pain and the threat of the wall that I’ve started to suffer from a serious case of self doubt. But if seven thousand runners don’t look like they are about to fall apart at the very moment that I felt that way, then the only real wall I need to be worried about is the one I’m building up in my head. And I can tear down that wall at anytime, because it’s only a figment of my imagination.

For the Love of the Run

My birthday may be in the summer and Christmas is in the winter, but my favorite time of year is the fall.

As I a child, a new school year begun each September, and there were new colored pencils, Halloween costumes, jumping in piles of leaves, carving pumpkins and trips to the apple orchard. In high school, there were swim meets, homecoming dances and parades, and back to school shopping. Later in college, there was football Saturdays in Ann Arbor. And every year, there were cool breezes, colorful trees, sweatshirts and jackets, chicken noodle soup, apples, zucchini bread, and the return of favorite television shows. It only gets sweeter in the city, with fashion week, a welcome lull in tourism, the cooling of the subway stations, and marathon season.

Training for this marathon has brought a whole new perspective on New York, and it has made me love this city even more. There are so many things you see when you are up and about the city at 6 am or when you dare to venture away from the avenues where you live and eat and work and play.

Despite what you might believe, anyone really can run a marathon. I know you don’t believe that right now, so instead of convincing you that you can, I’m just going to bribe you, brag a little, and basically get all sentimental about all the great things that running for long distances can bring to your life.


Cupcakes, cheeseburgers, macaroni and cheese, chocolate. Whatever food you turn to when you are celebrating or depressed, you can now eat without the worry of gaining weight. Yesterday, I had a giant cookie the size of my head. I literally had to use two hands to eat it. Do I feel guilty about it? Nope? Do I have to skip lunch to compensate for those calories? Nope. I already ran that cookie off this morning.


Sunsets and sunrises. Chances are that you will need to squeeze your runs in early in the morning before everyone is awake or at the end of day, and this means you will witness almost daily sunrises and sunsets. Trust me on this: you will never get sick of a sunrise.

Salt. You know how your doctors are always saying that you need to cut out the salt because it causes heart attacks and high blood pressure? Well, when you sweat profusely for four hours, you lose so much salt that you become in danger of either severe cramping or dehydration. Bring on the potato chips, french fries, and bacon!

Shorelines. Maybe it’s because I’m from the Great Lake State, but something about being by water just makes me happy. A lot of great running spots are along the shore, and there is something about the ability to see miles into the distance which helps to clear my head and focus on the future. Plus those cool breezes don’t hurt either.

Eating healthy. I know I already mentioned that you can eat whatever you want, but unless you have the stomach of a rat, you probably won’t be able to eat everything you want all the time. Not if you want to run after eating all that food. Even what I eat the night before a run matters significantly. And so I’ve learned to pick filling, tasty and healthy options before any run over 5 miles. It’s an amazing gift for me to finally understand that a cheeseburger can barely fuel me through a fiver, but whole wheat pasta and vegetables plus a salad with walnuts, blue cheese and apricots can carry me though seventeen.

Dessert for breakfast. Because after rough workouts, your bodies needs calories – and fast – to start repairing and rebuilding muscles, and the best way to refuel is with liquid meals. This morning, I had a strawberry, banana, and vanilla soymilk smoothie with some extra protein powder thrown in.

Discovery and exploration. You might have lived in the same town for twenty years, but when you start running for a marathon, you can’t just run the same three mile loop seven times to get a twenty-miler in. This year, I have run across the Brooklyn, Manhattan, and George Washington bridges. I’ve been through Riverside Park, Battery Park, and Central Park . I’ve seen the Statue of Liberty, run through the South Street Seaport, past the Intrepid Ship, through Columbia University’s campus and pretty much everywhere else in between.

Muscles. I have known about my biceps, quads, calves and a few other muscles well before I started running, but now that I’ve started running I’ve become aware of a whole new set of muscles. Plus all the old muscles I already knew about have become stronger and more ripped than I ever thought possible. Thankfully, running is a lady’s sport and it doesn’t impart big, bulky muscles – just small, hard ones.

Music. Rock, reggae, rap, classical, electronic, indie, emo, alternative, classic rock, country, Motown – whatever it is that moves you to shake your hips, or clap your hands or bop your head, will move you to run, faster, harder and longer than you ever thought possible. And for this, I love my music a million times more. It has become my running buddy, coach and personal cheerleader. I look forward to my long runs, when I always download a few new songs for motivation. Fuel to my fire, if you will.


Sweet dreams. Running exhausts me. Not in the, I’m-so-tired-all-day-that-I-can’t-do-anything way, but in the way that I am asleep minutes after my head hits the pillows. The quality of sleep is deeper and more fulfilling too. When I wake up in the morning, I feel rested and ready for a full day. A good night of sleep is like a weekend getaway, but a month’s worth of good sleep? Like the serenity of a yogi.

Lose yourself. I started running to lose weight, and over twenty pounds were lost. I haven’t missed them since. No matter what your shape, running will make your body look better. It might be better muscle tone in a few troublesome spots, or it might be inches melting off your body. When I set out to lose weight by running, the goal of losing weight became secondary to completing my half marathon. I was no longer obsessing over every bite of food, or worrying about getting in a minimum number of fat burning sessions per week. Everything became about the run, and in turn, I finally was able to lose the weight.

There are many days when I can barely drag myself out of bed to do my morning run. When the only thing that keeps me going is that fact that I’ve already run three miles away from my apartment, and I have no other way to get back home except to run. More than once, I’ve had to stop on the side of the road and have a little cry because the day’s run is so frustrating that I doubt my ability to complete a marathon.

But then there are the days when running is effortless and exhilarating, when my stores of energy seem endless and my strength is downright inhuman. It’s the moments when I’ve run clear across the airport with a huge piece of luggage in my arms and I am startled to realize that I’m not even slightly out of breath. Quite simply, it’s the feeling that anything might be possible and that is the beauty of running a marathon. Because if a slow-poke like myself can do it, who can't?
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