“As I get older I see that running has changed for me. What used to be about burning calories is now more about burning up what is false. Lies I used to tell myself about who I was and what I could do, friendships that cannot withstand hills or miles, the approval I no longer need to seek, and solidarity that cannot bear silence. I run to burn up what I don’t need and ignite what I do.”
– Kristin Armstrong
“What now?”
I’ve been asked this question so many times since Boston. So many times, I’ve even stopped and asked myself. The answer is really quite simple… yet, at the same time, I’m still trying to figure it out.
Sometimes I catch myself wishing for what used to be, longing for everything I once was. To be able to move like I used to, jump and stretch and run like I used to. It’s a tricky thought process to embark upon… an easy one to get caught up in – wasting away the hours, wistfully longing for so many things that can never actually be again.
I’ve grown too much to allow myself to get lost in those thoughts though. I’ve learned so much the past few years, especially in regard to my own body. I’ve learned what my limits are and how far I can push them. I’ve learned to touch the very edge of my ability, how to tiptoe and teeter on the line that separates discomfort from pain, and how to slowly, incrementally, push it back.
A few days after I ran Boston, Nick asked me to choose one word to adequately sum up my entire experience – from years of preparing, trying and failing, to finally being accepted, invited, and actually running the race itself. It took me a moment to reflect, before answering “cathartic”. And that’s truly what it was.
Immediately after completing the race, and every day since, I notice how much different I feel – lighter, as if a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can finally breathe. It’s peaceful.
In a lot of ways Boston wasn’t just a race for me, it was symbolic for something so much more. Something so much greater in life. A catalyst for change. It was the one thing that kept me moving, reaching, striving, and growing more and more throughout the years. It enabled me to learn, to grow, and to heal. To rise up, step into my own power, and become the kind of person I was always meant to be.
Boston truly was my catharsis. I needed that day. That monumentally painful, yet equally as joyful experience I brought upon myself and chose to endure. I needed it more than I realized, and I’m so grateful that I got to experience it. I don’t ever want to do it again – or any other marathon, for that matter. I no longer feel the need or desire to.
Everything is so much clearer to me now. I’m worth so much more, and now I firmly believe it. I don’t need anybody to tell me that I’m good enough, or anything to myself measure by or compare myself to. And everything I went through in the past? It is what it is… but I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve any of it. And the best part is, I’m no longer angry about it. It’s taken me 20 years to process through it all… but I’m finally no longer hurting.
Wherever you are in this Life, whatever challenges and obstacles you must face, I hope you find your “Boston” – that thing that keeps you moving. I hope you chase your “unicorn”, elusive as it may seem. I hope you run your “race”, and find yourself amongst the miles. And when you finally reach that Finish Line, I sincerely hope you win.
So… “what now?”, you ask me again? What’s next for me here? I don’t exactly know. But I know that I will always run. For as long as I am physically able, I will continue to run… happily ever after.
It’s a really good feeling to be on the other side of a journey this big. I hope someday you get here too.
“She ran… Happily ever after…” My very first running tattoo – inked upon my skin after running my very first full marathon, Pittsburgh 2014.
“You learn everything you need to know about a person when you see their face in the moment of your greatest triumph!”
– Andre Agassi
This is one of the most sought after race medals in the world. Looking back on all the years it took to finally earn my own, I realize now that it’s just a silly sliver of recycled steel tethered to a silky ribbon. The journey you must take in order to receive it though… that’s the real reward! That’s where the transformation occurs. And that is not something you can ever hold in your hand or tie to a ribbon and wear around your neck. It’s something that changes deep inside you gradually, over time. In the quiet moments when you’re finding grace, in the moments when you struggle to believe, and (most importantly) when it seems as if all hope is lost. Because it’s in these moments when you’re faced with the choice to simply give up, or try and fight harder. It’s in this moment when we’re actually most powerful – because we get to decide what’s important, and we get to discard what’s not. And in this moment our spirit begins to shine, as we choose to embrace the discomfort required in order to grow, and are forced to reconcile the difference between who we are right now and who we aspire to be.
Boston was certainly the “holy grail” of marathons to me. The experience of finally being there – of being acknowledged, invited, welcomed and included, supported along the course, and honored at the Finish was just the “icing on the cake” following a much longer journey.
The greatest reward, I found amidst the work – the 15 year journey of physical, mental, and emotional growth required to finally achieve this dream; a dream more personal than any I’ve ever had before – and which became even more personal as the years of struggle continued on. The experience of running this marathon from start to finish, from Hopkinton to Boston, was organic and surreal. A purging of pent up emotions. A cathartic reconciliation of all the things I used to think and all the ways I used to feel – a proverbial shedding of the skin I used to wear, and an emergence into the person I’ve finally grown up to be.
In all my years of long distance racing, I’ve always experienced a period of deflation in the days after an event. A heavy feeling of disappointment or depression… like we’d worked so hard for so long to achieve this one thing and, in a matter of hours, it was gone. Done. Over. And if I wanted to experience that excitement and exhilaration again, I’d have to return to training – to suffering, to struggling, to beating myself back down in hopes that I’d be able to come back even stronger next time. But not this time. This time, there will be no next time. This was it. This was my Boston. And once was definitely enough. This time I walked away proud, exhilarated. Immediately after completing the race, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I was instantly set free. This feeling has followed me home, and remained with me every day since.
I’m so grateful for my life, my friends, my family, my ability to run and keep moving forward. I no longer feel I have anything to prove – to myself or anyone else. As incredible as it was to earn my invite and physically run that race, it is equally incredible to know that it is all behind me now. Even if I could do it again, I wouldn’t. I’d simply choose not to.
Boston was everything I’d hoped it would be and even so much more! I returned home with a heart so full, and cannot stress enough how grateful I am to every single person whose path has crossed with mine in any way, shape, or form these last several years – every incredible human being who, even if just “all in a day’s work”, happened to impart some piece of knowledge or encouragement in order to help me along the way.
The truth is, no one’s story of success is ever solely their own. It truly does “take a village”. The fact that I am here today (physically able to have run the Boston Marathon ) is the product of so many selfless, caring, talented, and hardworking professionals coming together to turn my injured body into something capable of doing very hard things. I’m proud of the end result. But I am even more proud to have had the privilege of working with so many incredible human beings.
In chronological order from the time of my accident:
Dr. Mark Baratz (Hand and Upper Extremity Specialist) and David Lingenfelter PA-C of UPMC Orthopaedic Surgery Center.
Jacqueline Voegler & Jacqueline Loeffler, Occupational Therapists (specializing in hand and upper extremity rehab) at the UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex.
Drs. Amanda and Cotey Jordan at Family Chiropractic.
Dr. Marcus Platz at MAP Chiropractic.
Kristen Antinopoulos-Apple, friend and phenomenal massage therapist.
Dr. Palguta at New Covenant Family Practice.
Dr. Rob Oelhaf, friend and Emergency Medicine Physician.
Dr. Okonkwo, Erin Thomson, and Dr. Peter Gerzsten at UPMC Presbyterian Hospital – Department of Neurological Surgery.
Amy George and Dr. Richard Rafferty at The Disc Institute of Pittsburgh.
Dane Eberle, physical therapist (for spinal rehab) at the UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex.
Nick Alouise, owner and personal trainer at LMNT Active
Dr. Daniel Turack, at Turack Chiropractic and InBalance+ Performance Center
As well as all the friends who showed up last year to help me run my qualifying race: Lori, Harvey, Emily, Tony, Jennie, Nick, and my husband, Rick! And Jesse who showed up in Boston on “Marathon Monday” and stood along the course in the hot sun, waiting for me at Mile 20, with a big bag of fresh cut orange slices to help power me through!
I am beyond grateful for each and every one of these incredible human beings… and all those who were praying for me and tracking me on their phones back at home. (Especially my therapist, Dr. Michael, who has had a front row seat to every positive, negative, healthy or self-sabotaging emotion and experience in my life!)
Without the love and support from them all, it’s likely that I never would have made it here today. I’d say that bringing “the unicorn” home has been such a bittersweet experience… but that’s simply not true. There’s nothing bitter about this experience – not even in the least. I’m a real Boston Marathonah’ now! I’ve been waiting my whole life to feel like this… never once realizing that I was actually the one who was always in control.
#BeyondTheBoylstonLine
Coach Nick has been by my side through the good times and the bad, training me day in and day out, a minimum of 3x per week for the last 2 years, plus checking in regularly on my running reports so that he could adapt our plan accordingly. To say that he is an integral part of my comeback and physical success in (finally!) getting to run the Boston Marathon is an understatement.
I am incredibly grateful for this man – for his knowledge, his skill set, his empathy and patience, and most importantly his friendship.🤍These men you see standing beside me, sharing in this moment of personal success, joined my journey just 5 months ago… but the wisdom and experience they have imparted has already begun to reshape my life.
I am incredibly grateful to them both (Coach Adam & Dr. Dan) for their patience, positivity, and their dedication to the bigger picture, which is LIFE – beyond the Boylston line!
“What is the shape, the sound, the texture of a dream realized? I found out when I took the last left-hand turn into the finishing stretch…”
Des Linden, “CHOOSING TO RUN”
128th Boston Marathon – 4/15/2024
Right on Hereford. Left on Boylston.
This is a moment that I will never forget. It is organic and surreal, all at the same time; a rewarding moment that actually lived up to the anticipation that had been building within me since the very beginning (more than a decade ago!) when glimmers of this dream first began to form inside my mind.
For the past year and a half, I’ve been letting intuition (not numbers) dictate my routine. I know my good days aren’t making the world turn, but I finally have this sense of being in sync with the world as it turns, and of using its gravitational force to move with a sense of purpose rather than allowing it to pull me in whatever direction it so chooses. I finally feel like this is what I’m meant to do… and not just for Boston – but for myself, and for the rest of my life.
No matter what my threshold for pain or level of progress amounts to for the day, simply showing up and doing work has proven to be more than enough; a concept so contrary to the darker place from which my progress used to grow.
As an empath, I learned at a very young age that sustained movement is the least destructive way for me to metabolize emotional pain – both my own and that which I absorb from others. Through the years, I’ve come to find reprieve from the heaviness of the world through movement and sustained physical exertion.
In the beginning, I didn’t really run to be fit. I mostly ran to simply not hurt so much. When out on a run, I’d actually envision the emotions as particles, flying off my skin and falling away, left behind me on the ground as I continued to run away. Whatever heaviness had burdened me before, I always returned from my run a little bit lighter, with gratitude for the life that I am able to live and a quiet reverence for the space in which I’ve found it.
Over time though, things began to change. I carved out space for my runs, but my progress became a personal pillar of shame as I constantly compared myself to higher and higher standards. It’s a vicious, self-sabotaging cycle to base your value as a person on your ability (or lack there of) to continually reach the next level.
Nearly 3 years post-traumatic accident, “winning” no longer has anything to do with running fast or setting a new PR. It means giving my best possible effort with the cleanest possible form. Previously, this lesson had been so hard for me to put into practice – a tough pill to swallow for someone who’d spent the better part of a decade judging her self-worth based upon the numbers on a clock every time she crossed a damn finish line.
Literally everything about this Boston Marathon build-up has been a challenge. From the altering of my form, to the strengthening of my weaknesses, and every hellishly painful cramp and muscle spasm along the way. We’ve put a lot of time and effort into this, trying to make the most of this long awaited dream on the verge of actually coming true, all the while still acclimating myself to this new reality, repeatedly pushing up against every limitation we now find within my body. I’ve only recently reached the point where it feels as if I’m able to train like myself again – or rather my “new” self, equipped with more knowledge, more patience, and a broader understanding of what it means to “win”.
This training cycle has been more than a little cathartic for me. A reckoning, so to speak, alotting me the time I’ve needed to reflect upon all the things that have occurred in my life, as well as the space (and grace) in which to reconcile them. I ran this race completely for myself – for all the memories of what could have been, and all that used to be. I ran, leaving it all out there – behind me, on the course.
Sometimes things happen and the only choice you have is to quit… or to fight much harder in order to come back, regardless of what that comeback actually looks like. For me, that has meant letting go of any hard and fast time goals in exchange for simply being able to complete the marathon distance cleanly, with the best possible form, regardless of how long it happens to take. It’s true, everybody does love a good comeback story. But we don’t often praise the basic consistency and subtle changes made when we focus on staying healthy, avoiding further injury, and begin to stack multiple training blocks, one on top of the other. And this particular moment? This feeling of finally realizing this once so very distant dream? This is the product of so many selfless, caring, talented and hardworking people coming together to turn my injured body into something capable of doing very hard things. I’m proud of the end result. But I’m more proud to have had the privilege of working with so many incredible human beings.
Relationships are everything to me, and I want to thank everyone who had a hand in making this dream a reality. I always knew this moment would be good, but it is far better than anything I ever could have imagined because of all of you!
To my husband, Rick: No one has ever been more supportive or personally invested in my health, wellness, and personal happiness. No one has ever seen me with such clarity, or loved me with more grace. Thank you for loving me, supporting me, and standing by me no matter what.
To my personal trainer, Nick: No one has ever been more invested in my fitness, my progress, and my ability to finish strong. I appreciate all of your time, attention to detail, and constant support. Most importantly though, I appreciate your friendship.
To “my Sarah” who traveled all the way to Boston in order to share in this long awaited moment with me: No friend has ever invested so much of their own time, attention, and love into my goals as you have. No matter what it is that I must grow through, or how high the next “mountain” is along life’s path, you continue show up in the most important ways and show me that I will never have to face anything alone. WE CAN DO HARD THINGS, my friend. We can, we have, and we always will – TOGETHER.
To the THOUSANDS of people who lined the streets all the way from Hopkinton to Boston, clapping, yelling, and playing music for thousands of people they don’t even know, THANK YOU! You helped to make this day an experience that I will never forget!
To every person along the route who screamed my name and told me that I could do it: Thank you! I did! And not because I’m some “wicked fast” marathon runner, but because I had a dream and I simply refused to quit.
There are legitimately not enough words in the English language to adequately describe how grateful I am for my Doctors, Chiropractors, Neurosurgeons, and Physical Therapists. The truth is, success is a collaborative effort. No one is ever wholly self-made. We are all interconnected, and our achievements are a collective effort. We are, in the end, a mere reflection of the support and guidance we receive from the countless number of people who help to shape and/or re-build our lives. To the incredibly skilled, talented, and wise professional human beings who have helped me throughout my journey: THANK YOU!!!We’ve shared so many hours working together, swearing together, putting my broken body back together, all the while talking about my progress and running – physically and mentally preparing for what it would be like when I ran this Boston Marathon. My journey towards this moment didn’t end up looking anything like we’d initially imagined it would, but that has made it all the more special.
Which brings me specifically to DR. DAN: You were the first and only medicalprofessional to tell me that THIS IS NOT “as good as it gets”. You weren’tintimidated by my injuries, and you cared very little about my diagnoses. You asked me if I was ready to get to work, then you jumped right in there with me! You gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever received – the gift of HOPE …and proceeded to show me the way, revealing a whole new level of healing, recovery, and forward moving progress. I could never thank you enough for your knowledge, your patience, and your positivity.
To my friends and family, my therapist (Dr.Michael), and anyone else who has ever truly given a sh*t about me: Thank you for seeing beyond my broken parts, both physically and emotionally. Thank you for recognizing THIS version of me – the full version, the healed version, the strong version, the one that we have spent the last several years rebuilding. The one physically capable of running all the way from Hopkinton to Boston. The one who never stopped believing that, one day, she always would.
#BeyondTheBoylstonLine
Dreams really do come true! ♥️🤍💙 Thank you Boston!!! ♥️🤍💙
“When things get difficult. When you want to quit. When you question why you’re out there, remember that we’re the lucky ones.
When things fall apart and when you doubt your capacity to take another step into the dark, give yourself a solid tap on the chest, realize what a miracle you are, remind yourself that this is a gift that countless others would give anything to have and so let’s not let it slip away.
Eyes up. Stout heart. Believe. And remember, that we’re the lucky ones.”
– Dr. Tommy Rivers Puzey, DPT
This is BOSTON.
A marathon for 27,000 people. 27,000 ordinary people, each with their own unique story, who go on a (sometimes decades long) journey of obsession, of triumph and tribulation, to enhance and perfect their physical performance so that (even just once!) they might actually make the cut.
And once they do… that invite officially issued, their qualifiers adequately verified, they begin that journey all over again – preparing obsessively in order to arrive on race day (Patriot’s Day), the third Monday of April, ready to run this world renowned and brutally challenging course that spans all the way from Hopkinton to Boston. An iconic foot race, dating back more than a century. A race that has grown and evolved dozens of times, much like the athletes themselves who are running it. A race that has stood the test of time and become a beacon of hope, burning brightly, for those who might otherwise have chosen to give up.
The road from Hopkinton to Boston is an unforgiving one. The ultimate reality check. A scorching reminder of who you really are, who you’re pretending to be, and forcing you to reconcile the difference.
This race is for runners on a mission to prove their worth to the world, to the sport, and (most importantly) to ourselves – that we deserve to be here, running the greatest marathon in the world.
Marathon Monday is a holiday in Boston. A cause for celebration. A reason to cheer on a random stranger doing a random thing on a random day for God knows what random reason. But it brings us closer together. It unites us. It makes us all feel good, and proud, and an important part of this incredible moment in our future’s history.
This race is known for its difficulty, its runners for their determination and grit. The people of Boston are known for their toughness, their tenacity, their indelible strength and ability to keep showing up, to keep carrying on no matter what! Coming to Boston to run this race is a dream come true for me. The journey to get here, a testament to who I am and what I’m made of – determination and grit, toughness, tenacity, and the strength to keep showing up; the very same things that make this town and all of its people “Boston Strong”.
I have no idea what this race will look like for me. The truth is, it doesn’t even matter. I’ve already decided that this will be my final full marathon and I’m going to enjoy every mile. Coach Nick has finally helped me to realize that “it’s about progress, not perfection”, and Dr. Dan has helped me to see that it’s no longer about my pace, but the work we’ve put in and the progress that we’ve made in building me back better, stronger, and more stable than ever before. How incredibly lucky am I to have the opportunity to demonstrate all that I’ve learned and all that we’ve accomplished on this particular 26.2 mile course? The one that I have dreamed about and imagined in my mind for the better part of my adult life?
This course is challenging – full of hills, rolling from start to finish. Several of them so large and long (spanning from miles 16 – 21+) that they’ve been given their own name and are revered around the globe! But isn’t that just like Life? It’s full of ups and downs, and we have no choice but to face them all. But how we go about doing so is completely up to us. I’ve learned along my own life’s journey (and with a lot of help from my therapist!) that it makes the most sense to take it all just one step at a time – to face the climbs with courage, the descents with grace, and to find a delicate balance in between.
So draw up your race signs and raise up your beers. Cheer louder than a screaming teenager at a Taylor Swift concert. You may never know exactly who I am, nor I know you – but because of you, standing there all along the way or cheering from afar, I know that I will run strong. Because this is BOSTON, and I am (finally!) one of “the lucky ones”!
“I don’t know where you’re at in your life or what you’re going through, but I want to tell you to keep going, baby. I want to tell you, success is on the other side. I want to tell you that it’s going to be okay! I want to tell you that the windshield is bigger than the rearview mirror for a reason – because what’s in front of you is so much more important than what’s behind you!”
– Jason DeFord, aka “JellyRoll”
Pittsburgh Half Marathon, May 5th, 2013 – My very first big race. I was excited and terrified, all at once. I was surrounded by thousands, yet felt very alone. Throughout the next decade of my life, I would come to realize that the biggest challenge I will ever have to face is the battle within my own mind.
What a wild ride this has been!
(Pause for dramatic effect…)
…because, even as I write this, I’m no longer certain that I’m referring solely to this most recent training cycle. Our entire life just flashed through my mind and I realize that this is actually the culmination of something so much bigger than simply running.
This always seems to happen near taper time, doesn’t it? When our training reaches its peak week and we get tired. Everything feels difficult, our sleep is disrupted, our body is cramping, sore, and fatigued. We start to lose focus. We’re too tired to eat, too restless to sleep. Our thoughts begin to wander, and our mind begins to tank.
We’ve been chasing this dream for nearly 15 years! It’s understandable that you’re all up in your feelings right now. I see you wrestling with that darkness again. The voices whispering in the back of your mind. The ones we’ve worked so hard to let go of, to tune out. But go ahead and listen. Yes, that’s what I said – listen for just a moment, and tell me what you hear. Do you recognize the voice that’s speaking? It is not your own. That’s right. It never was. Nor should you ever allow it to be. Banish that voice from within our mind. Become deaf to the echoes of its nonsense. Don’t ever come to believe its lies or allow the remnants of it to take up space inside our brain. The only thing that doesn’t belong here is that voice. Because you ARE strong. You ARE able. You CAN do it. And YOU WILL.
So what if the plan hasn’t gone perfectly? It rarely ever does. You’ve been consistent. You’ve made more progress in the last 6 months than you have in all of your previous training cycles combined! Do not doubt yourself now. The work has already been done. Now, we must simply believe.
Remember what Nick said the other day, as he transformed himself from Coach to friend, and held up that mirror of truth, reflecting it right back into your face?
“After all this time, and how far you’ve come, why in the world would you stop and look back now?”
It was an eye opening experience, and the encouragement you needed. Suddenly the long run didn’t seem so long, did it? And the road ahead feels much less daunting now, as it looms there in the not so distant future.
I used to wonder whether life was dictated by free will or fate? I thought for certain that it couldn’t be both… but now I think it is. I think there are some things in life that simply must happen to us… but how we choose to respond to them is what actually makes all the difference.
Throughout the years, and our most difficult moments, we chose to keep running. For nearly 15 consecutive years now, we’ve run. 2 ultramarathons, 15 full marathons, 25 half marathons, more races in the 1-25 mile range than we could probably ever count. Not to mention the thousands of miles in training… all to earn this one shining moment – an invitation to the oldest, most prestigious marathon in the world. And we did it. We’re here now. And soon we will be there – in BOSTON!
Don’t you dare back down now. Don’t insult our character or our courage, nor doubt our ability to rise up and face this challenge with grit, with grace, and the utmost gratitude.
You’ve got so much to draw from – so many miles, so many races, so many lessons learned and experience with what it means to be resilient. So many times you thought you wouldn’t make it, that you simply weren’t enough – good enough, strong enough, fast enough, worthy enough. Yet, every single time, you choose to show up and do the best that you can… and do you know what we’ve learned from this throughout all these years?
It’s not an easy conversation to have, addressing the increasing weight gain of a woman. Especially when that woman has been through so much recently. (Like loss and poverty, divorce, being a single mom, working multiple jobs while going to school and being able to sleep just every 3rd night.) But if you’re a healthcare professional who truly cares about your patients and has their best interests at heart, you’ll find a way to say what needs to be said, and direct them in the way which benefits them the most.
That’s exactly what happened to me.
I had spent the last several years struggling to survive, working multiple jobs for multiple employers, while attending school several nights per week, and coparenting my young daughter amidst complete alienation from my entire family and all of the friends I’d ever known throughout my entire life.
I didn’t know any of the things I know now about “eating clean”, and how it doesn’t have to be difficult, time consuming, or expensive.
I was always rushing around, always busy working, and almost always sleep deprived and broke – doing the best I could to stretch my paycheck as far as it could go, yet still finding myself meticulously measuring out our bowls of cereal, and cringing when my daughter asked for a second bowl, stating that she was still hungry.
(It still hurts to this day, remembering that gut wrenching moment.)
Anyway… I had finally graduated as a proud Paramedic, obtained a fulltime position (complete with a pay raise, steady schedule, and medical benefits for myself and my daughter) and was now in a stable romantic relationship with the man whom I would soon marry, when my Doctor and I had this uncomfortable conversation. Over the course of the last several years, I had gained nearly 40 lbs. on my 5’ 6” frame. He tried to attribute it to my choice of birth control, advising that “weight gain” was a significant side effect of this particular contraception. But I knew better.
I’ve never been one to shy away from personal accountability and, after laughing out loud about the awkwardness of my favorite Doctor so politely calling me “fat”, I openly addressed the real issue, admitting how I myself have been the primary problem in this particular situation.
“Don’t blame the birth control until I prove that I can’t lose the weight.” I said, and my Doctor accepted the challenge. “I’ll see you in a month or two!”, he replied – and just like that, we made a pact. If, after adequately trying, I couldn’t get my body and my weight back into a healthy range, we would explore other (medicinal) options.
I started cooking my own meals and packing my own lunches. I tracked my food intake and increased my water consumption. I cut back on sugar, alcohol, and fried or processed foods. I eliminated all daily beverages aside from coffee and water, became a “rare, social drinker”, and added daily exercise – primarily running.
I didn’t run very much at first – just 30-60 seconds at a time, with walking intervals in between. But after just a few weeks, I found that I was able to run for longer, and subsequently walk even less. In just a few short months, I was able to shed all 40+lbs. which I had gained over the last several years.
I started running races… and then I started winning. A 3rd place age group award at a local 5K was all it took for me to fall in love with the sport, and become acutely aware of how much better I could be. It reignited something deeper within me – a drive and desire so strong and so powerful, which had previously been extinguished by external forces that were (at the time) so much bigger than me and out of my control. (But that is a story for another time.)
I ran my very first half marathon in Pittsburgh 2013, just two weeks after the Boston Marathon bombings. I ran with solidarity alongside several of the athletes who’d been there and been unable to finish their race. The Pittsburgh Marathon had re-opened registration for them, openly inviting all who were interested and able to come to Pittsburgh (at no monetary cost to them) and finish their race. It was the first time I’d ever met someone who had qualified for and run the Boston Marathon. It was heartbreaking to listen to their stories – of all that they had seen, and of what they had done to help. I was inspired by their resilience, their strength to carry on. It was the first time that I ever imagined Boston, and what it might be like to run a full marathon.
Pittsburgh Half Marathon, May 5th 2013
In some ways it feels like just yesterday that this dream began to flicker inside my mind… in other ways, it feels like a lifetime has passed between then and now. Regardless, I took a trip down memory lane today, reflecting back on all the miles and all the races I’ve run over the last 12+ years – 2 ultramarathons, 15 full marathons, 25 half marathons, countless race distances ranging from 1-25 miles, as well as thousands of miles run in training… all to earn just one invitation to the oldest, most prestigious marathon in the world.
Now, as I prepare to go and run Boston for myself, it really is quite incredible to see how one uncomfortable conversation and a single pair of running shoes can (literally) change your life!
My husband and I stopped at our favorite bar to have a beer. A beer on St. Patrick’s Day rarely ever results in just one beer… and tonight was no exception.
A man and his wife sidled up into the seats right next to us at the bar, and this man immediately began his antics – mocking the bartenders and complaining about their inability to find humor in his obtuse nature.
I immediately went on the defensive, aggressively distracting this man from his verbal attacks upon these overworked and obviously exhausted bartenders in the homestretch of a very busy St. Paddy’s Day weekend. Not only did I, against my better judgment, partake in a few celebratory shots with him, I actively engaged in communication with this inebriated individual. In the process, I gleaned the fact that he is a truck driver who needs to be up and functional, driving his truck by 2am tomorrow morning – just 7 hours from now, and immediately my demeanor changed.
NO “Dude”, you’re not funny anymore.
No “Dude”, you don’t need another beer.
No “Dude” we will not be doing another shot.
You need to go home, “Dude”, and you need to go home right NOW.
I basically bullied this man into leaving the bar.
He signed his check (after attempting to pay with his AAA and AARP card) and I may have had a hand in writing the amount of his tip – much greater than 20% and, in his absence, my husband and I began to talk and I realized how triggered I have been.
This man was drunk off his ass, refusing to go home, continually haggling our favorite bartenders, and he told me his name was “Ray.” When he told me this, my entire demeanor changed.
Yeah, I had been “entertaining” this man – trying to shield him from the bartenders who did not deserve to deal with his antics… but when he spoke his name and told me he had a professional obligation to drive a large commercial vehicle on a public highway in just a few hours, literally everything changed.
I was back in that courtroom, summer of 2020, and I could barely breathe.
“Ray” on the stand before me, refusing to make eye contact, after he was somehow able to get the drug report stricken from the record and then told the jury that he could not have been speeding that morning because his truck had a “governor” and a governor restricts his speed – which, in a way, it does. But in the context of the accident which claimed the lives of both my parents, it really only restricted him from driving even faster than the speed recorded upon impact. A fact that I am still (apparently) more than a little bit bitter about because of the blatant incompetency of our legal team to adequately refute his claims in front of the jury.
I became much shorter with this man at the bar.
I helped him close out his tab, tipping more than he may have initially intended. And helped his partner usher him quickly to their car. But my animosity lingered… much longer than I’d have liked. I almost called my therapist, on the verge of an emotional meltdown or outright panic attack.
I ordered another beer, another shot, and a tall glass of water – which is the only thing that kept me from disrupting my therapist’s life on this random Sunday night.
Because we’ve already had the opportunity to fight this battle – to open up a brand new civil suit against the man responsible for killing my parents. But I already made that decision – to let it go… and convinced my sister that it was the right decision for us to make. Now here we are, years after the fact, and I find myself triggered by a random man at a random bar. A man named Ray. Drunk off his ass. Seeing nothing wrong with his actions or his behavior – about to drive a vehicle several tons in weight, along a highly populated highway, with average men and women driving to and from their 9-5 jobs, completely oblivious to the danger they have driving right alongside them. And, in this moment, it’s hard not to have regrets. For the grace we chose to give this undeserving man. In opting not to re-open the case. In not fighting harder against the injustice we were inevitably forced to face. And, in this realization, I find it difficult not to blame myself, and hold myself accountable for the actions of that one inebriated man named Ray.
“You don’t become a champion by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many days, weeks, months, (and if you could finally come to accept it) years.”
– John L. Parker Jr. , “Once A Runner”
I had to take a step back this week. A lot less mileage run, and a lot more minutes within that mileage walked.
Sometimes it’s hard not to get sucked back into my old way of thinking; when my body feels good and I find myself running paces and distances I never thought I’d be capable of running again. I catch these glimpses of potential inside this new method of training with Dr. Dan and it makes me wish I’d met him sooner – before my accident, before all these injuries. Back when I had no chronic issues or daily battle with pain. Back when my body bounced back from long, hard training runs and weight training days within hours, rather than days or even weeks. Back when I was chasing my dream, rather than reveling in the fact that I am about to realize it.
Anyone who (just now) begins to follow my journey could never fully understand the magnitude of what it means for me to be here. Whether they think I’m doing incredible with my running right now or they wonder why I get so excited about running a sub-30 minute 5K, the perception from their vantage point pales in comparison to those who have been with me every single step of the way. (Back when my right foot dragged every time I took a step, or when my bodily functions were failing me, my feet were posturing, and I couldn’t even feel my lower abdominal muscles, let alone contract them during a workout.)
I believe that this particular combination of professionals which I currently have the honor of working with (Nick & Dr. Dan) is the precise combination I would have needed in order to unlock my potential and power me through to my previous sub-3:40 (BQ) marathon goal!
It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? Running is such a perfect metaphor for life, as it often takes us on a roller coaster ride of emotions and a lifelong journey towards finding ourselves. It teaches us valuable lessons in regard to hard work and discipline, dedication and determination, tenacity and grit.
If you want to become a better runner, you need to run more. That’s why running is so beautiful. It doesn’t lie to you. You get out of it, exactly what you choose to put into it. This lesson can be extended to anything. If you want to be better at math, work out more math problems. If you want to be a concert level musician, you have to practice. You don’t get better at something by hoping for it, you get better at something by doing it.
This can be a tough lesson to learn if what you’re doing is not something you truly want to do.
John L. Parker wrote it out so perfectly in his book “Once A Runner”, modeling this lesson for us all in so many ways when he said: “What was the secret, they wanted to know; in a thousand different ways they wanted to know The Secret. And not one of them was prepared, truly prepared to believe that it had not so much to do with chemicals and zippy mental tricks as with that most unprofound and sometimes heart-rending process of removing, molecule by molecule, the very tough rubber that comprised the bottoms of his training shoes. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials.”
That’s a life lesson for you right there! There’s no magic pill for you to take that will alleviate your pain or eliminate your problems. There’s no magic pair of shoes for you to buy that will truly elevate your performance and make you a better runner overall. It’s about the trial of miles… and miles of trials. Hard work, consistency, tenacity and grit. These are the only things that will get you there.
I’m not there yet. Some days I’m nowhere near it! But I keep trying, every single day. I struggle so much on the simplest of moves, it’s actually embarrassing. Sometimes I’m surprised I still have friends and training partners who put up with me. My life is full of trials. There are miles and miles of trials. Some days I think it would be easier to just put myself in a corner and cry. (Except I’d probably need help in getting back up!) Some nights I spend so much time thinking about it that I can’t fall asleep, or I wake up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning amidst a plethora of aches, pains, muscle cramps and spasms. But if there is one thing running has taught me, it’s that I can’t hide from the miles, or the trials. I have to face them, one step at a time.
For me, the journey to Boston has spanned the last 12+ years of my life. And I hope to continue running throughout the duration of my life to come. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to where I truly want to be. I don’t know if there will be more goals or more races (won or lost) along the way. But I do know that the only way to continue on this journey is by steadily stepping forward.
As I try to relax and ease my mind around this week of significant mileage step back, I refuse to get discouraged. On the contrary, I find myself looking hopefully forward into the future, in the days ahead beyond the Boylston line – when an “Easy 4-6” is my actual run for the day, rather than a build up to much longer runs. When the quality of my miles can become my primary focus, rather than the quantity of miles leading up to a marathon. The Trial of Miles, and Miles of Trials.
“On the day of performance, you compete with what you have, not with what you want or wish you had.”
– Justin Su’a
I ran a race today; out on the roads. I didn’t feel particularly ready for this race, nor was I even looking forward to it. Truth be told, I woke up this morning and really just wished it were over.
I sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and sipping coffee with my husband, as the wind began to gust outside, blowing a light coating of snow all around.
“Gonna be chilly out there.” my husband remarked, as the weatherman on the television forecasted windchills to be 10 – 15° throughout the duration of the race.
It’s been two weeks since my last long run out there on those roads. I wish I could say I’ve forgotten what that felt like, but I remember it all too well. It took me well over two hours to run just 12 miles, and it was several days before I was able to run again. It’s not so much the time or pace that bothers me now – it’s the aches and the pains, and the extended recovery time that I’m still trying to adapt to.
I’m making good progress now, under the care of Dr. Dan. And my workouts with Nick are also starting to improve. There’s just one hard truth that no amount of progress in either gym can seem to disprove… that the road is not kind to a bent and broken spine.
Giving up is not an option. Not showing up isn’t either. So I did what I always do. I laced up my shoes and showed up for my race.
I made no promises, and I set no goals. I didn’t even wear my watch. I met up with my friends, and ran my race.
I started out intentionally slow. It took several miles to find my zone. By mile 3, I’d finally settled in. By mile 5, I’d begun to fly – well, as close to “flying” as I’ve ever felt while running since before my accident in 2021. The miles were ticking by and the sun was beginning to shine. Halfway through mile 8, I started to slow… the uphill climb wasn’t so much the problem, as was the long descent looming just ahead which caused me the most concern. My back was already cramping and I was entertaining the thought of walking that final mile. Just then a man tapped me lightly on the shoulder, and fell in step beside me.
“You want to run with us?” he asked, offering me the kindest smile. “You seem very steady.”
I nodded my head and matched his stride, feeling grateful for his calm and quiet support. It took me a few moments to realize that he was the 10:30/mile pacer and he had very few followers. At times I felt strong again and felt the urge to run ahead, but decided to remain steady and pace with him instead.
We crossed the Finish Line of the 10-Mile race with a chip time of 1:45:20. I immediately shook the pacer’s hand and thanked him for his support.
It didn’t immediately dawn on me what I had just done. When I crossed the 5-mile checkpoint, half way through my run, the clock had read 55:55. When I finished the race, my official time was 1:45:20. Which means I ran the first half of this race conservatively, 11:11 per mile… but in the second half of the race, I increased my pace significantly – with an average pace of 9:53 per mile!
As I walked slowly back to my car after the race, I couldn’t help but smile. While the roads are far from easy for me to run on anymore, the truth is, you just never know. Today was a good day for me and makes me realize that (no matter what kind of run you think you’re going to have) until you show up and give what you’ve got, you never can quite tell.
Which means my training runs are ticking up, and I’ve already logged several double-digit long runs. I’d be lying if I said that everything is going great, that I have no pain, and my tolerance of the road has greatly improved. The truth is, things are “mostly” great, my pain is significantly lower than it has been since my spine surgery, and my range of motion and mobility are definitely improving. But my tolerance for running out on the roads is simply not getting any better. If anything, I believe it’s gotten worse.
Here’s the thing, asphalt does not absorb impact. Neither does my spine. Not the way it was originally designed to anyway. Add to this, the uneven surface and constant grading and camber of any given stretch of road, and I am consistently finding myself doing the survival shuffle anywhere from 2-4 miles in. Then comes the bargaining phase – telling myself to run just one mile at a time. Not possible? How about half a mile instead? No? Ok, one quarter mile run at a time. And this is how I’ve been getting it done. It’s agonizing slow, and far from pain free. But I believe the biggest factor in this overall equation is the fact that I no longer care to do it at all.
Don’t get me wrong, I love to run! And I have no intention of giving up on running altogether after Boston. But Boston is definitely my final full marathon. And two weeks later, when I run the half marathon in Pittsburgh, that might just be my final half as well.
I plan to continue working with Nick and Dr. Dan, improving my strength, form, and overall technique. And it will be interesting to see how this translates over time with my performance on lower mileage runs. I’m hopeful that I may still be able to execute a respectable 5K race performance in the future… perhaps even a 10K? But as for the long run… I just don’t care to do it anymore.
Running is primarily a mental sport. The body can withstand almost anything we choose to put it through, especially if you’ve physically trained it well. When it comes to endurance racing, it really is your mind that you have to convince the most.
I used to be a glutton for punishment. I used to find pleasure in overcoming pain. I used to be so stressed out and anxious that I needed to run for hours just to clear out all the thoughts that were spinning around inside my mind.
But I’m not the same person anymore.
I don’t need to punish myself for anything, and I don’t deserve the infliction of pain. I’ve eliminated all unnecessary stress from my life and the anxiety I used to feel remains there, back where it actually resonated from.
I no longer need to run for hours to quiet my mind, because my mind is mostly quiet now before I even begin. A few miles here, maybe an hour there… and that’s it, man – I’m good.
I love my time in the gym, lifting weights and performing more functional movements. I’m beginning to incorporate Yoga on a regular basis now too. I feel like I’m finally finding my way, letting intuition (not numbers) dictate my routine. I know my good days aren’t making the world turn, but I’m beginning to feel much more in sync with the world as it turns, and am finding my equilibrium in this period in between.
There are still several more weeks of training before I get to go and run Boston, so I’m not giving up on the long runs just yet. But I can honestly say that when the race has been run, my double-digit long runs are most likely done. And I’m not even sad.
Beyond the Boylston Line 