Spectating the New York City Marathon

By this point, you almost definitely know my opinion about the New York City Marathon.

It’s only the greatest race in the world through the greatest city in the world with the MOST amazing crowd support EVER.  I would run this race every single year if I could.  If I lived anywhere even remotely near NYC, I would make it a point to get my butt through the 9+1 every year just so I could run the marathon.

Last year, I got to ran it for the first time (with my dad – his first marathon).  It was amazing.  This year, it was Mike’s turn.  Mike had deferred from last year due to ankle injuries, and while I entered the lottery to see if I could make it to Staten Island with him, there was no such luck.  As a result, I was all set to spectate NY and be the GREATEST SPECTATOR KNOWN TO MANKIND!

On Saturday, we set out to claim our pizza.  New Balance did a Strava challenge which challenged runners to log 100 miles worth of running and Outside the New Balance Pizza Shop!trade their miles in for pizza at a pop-up pizza shop on several weekends during marathon season.  We had logged a tidy 71 miles each (which was supposed to entitle us to 6 slices each). When we got there around noon, they were limiting folks to two slices per person so that they could serve as many runners as possible.  Honestly, I didn’t mind that at all – it wasn’t like we needed more than two slices each, and I do think that these sorts of things should be inclusive.  In spite of that, I heard they ran out of pizza by 2:30.  Sounds like perhaps they should dial back the “price” structure a little, or prep for more hungry runners.  In any case, the pizza was quite good and well worth the miles!

Saturday night we were able to have dinner with our favorites from Team Ordinary.  It’s always a good time with that crew, and it was awesome to see our internet friends and team-mates in person.

On Sunday, Mike set off early for Staten Island.  Since my parents live on the Upper West Side, we planned to stay in Manhattan for the day. One thing about seeing your runner in NYC: make sure you are very clear about where you are (give your runner cross-streets and tell them “runner’s left” or “runner’s right).  The race is so large with so many people on the course that you’re very likely to miss people otherwise.

We had planned to meet Mike right around Mile 16 when he re-entered Manhattan.  Runner’s left, so that we could boogey back around into Central Park and see him at the finish line.  We sprang for Grandstand passes just to make sure we could navigate the park easily (grandstand wristbands give you access to walkways that the general public can’t get to on race day).

At around 11, we started our day by seeing the elites come in.  If you’ve never done this for a race, it’s a big thrill.  From the East Side Grandstand, you can see the last 150-200 meter stretch of the marathon, so you can really see the runners as they make their way to the finish.  This year, the women’s leader Joyciline Jepkosgei of Kenya made her marathon debut and took the race (she was only 7 seconds off a course record!).  I was also excited to see Des Linden run (she took sixth and was the first American woman across the line).

On the men’s side, Geoffrey Kamworor of Kenya (training partner to the fastest man on earth, Eliud Kipchoge) won.  There was an exciting sprint finish between Albert Korir and Girma Bekele Gebre for second and third respectably.  The energy at the finish line was incredible, and was an amazing feeling to be part of that crowd!

After we saw the elites come in, we traversed across the park to grab lunch on the East side.  We walked over to second avenue, found a diner, and ate.  I had my rolled-up poster (more details on that to follow), and my dad and I each carried a backpack.  Inside the backpacks, we had: water bottles, a roll of toilet paper, bags of leftover Halloween candy, and an aluminum baking pan.

Once we were fed, we rolled up on the race course.  The Dunkin Donuts on the corner of 66thand 1stwas giving out fleece marathon hats (we all grabbed one and were very grateful for them since the day was a little brisk), and had a station where you could make cheer signs.  How awesome! We waited our turn to grab a spot cheering on the course.  While there were crowds two and three people deep, we just waited behind some folks until they saw their runners come by, then they left and we grabbed slots.

My dad poured the Halloween candy in the tin, and we had it out for the runners.  I unrolled my sign.

My sign said “You’re not even fucking close.”  We were just after mile 16.

Nothing hurts like the truth

Levity, at that point in the race, is really important to me.  Also: I know how damaging it is to see enthusiastic spectators at mile 10 try to tell you “you’re so close!” (it happens every race; unless you’re in sight of the finish line you are not “so close”). I have to give credit to the person in Berlin who gave me the idea for my sign (thank you, random stranger!)

Runners’ reactions were pretty amused.  It was split about 90/10 between people who laughed, smiled, or said “thank you for being honest” and people who were just so deep in the pain cave that they didn’t have humor about this.  A few people told me “that’s a bad sign,” one lady gave me the thumbs down, and one lady did that weird finger shaving motion you do to say someone did something bad.  But for every single person who had a negative reaction, there were at least 9 who had a positive one.  A TON of runners stopped to take a picture of me and my sign, and loads of them gave me a fist bump or high five.  You can’t please everybody, and I hope that I was able to give runners a little smile at a point where they need it the most!

The art of the marathon sign is something we shall perhaps discuss at a later date.  Trust me when I say that all support is appreciated, but there are some signs that I think we should probably retire from the repertoire because they’re over-done.  The sign I made I’ve only ever seen once on a course before, and in a land far far away at that.

On marathon day, the other thing we made sure to do was be big, loud, extra energetic, and yell out names when people had them on their shirts. My dad has a big cheering voice and so do I, and I used my multi-lingual talents to encourage the global runners as best I could (Allez, France!  Allez! Or Andiamo Italia!Or Laufen Deutschland!). It was fantastic to see people smile when they heard their names, and just push through some of the walls they were finding.

Runners were also very grateful for the candy my dad was handing out (he got a LOT of high fives and hugs), and we were so glad to be able to give back to the NYC running community in this way.  It was a ton of fun, and we screamed ourselves hoarse.

Me, Will, and the marathon

We saw several of my friends come by, then Mike.  He was doing well, but his feet were killing him.  After we saw him go by, we made our way back West (with a quick stop at Sprinkles cupcakes – because yes please!).  We sat at the grandstand, and waited for everyone to come through.

I swear, there’s magic at that finish line.  As the sun sets and the lights come up on the finish area, you start to see a sparkle in the air.  The crowds thin, but those who are left are 10x more enthusiastic.  The finishers come less quickly and furiously, but those who come around that bend are 10x more moved.  You see the tears, you see the emotional faces, you see the Achilles athletes.  You see the athletes who are clearly injured, but pushing through anyway.  You see the athletes who have worked so hard just to finish, and here they are, and that finish line means so much to them.  You see people who have been battling this course for 5, 6, 7 hours and they’re finally home – to the big lit-up gateway they’ve been dreaming about all year.

It’s hard not to get emotional just thinking about that finish line during magic hour.  Yes, all marathoners deserve to be celebrated – but personally? I’ll celebrate the back of the pack more loudly and more stalwartly than anyone else on that course.

Mike came through in 6:38.  He was basically limping by the time he got to us – his feet were on fire for the last 10K as a result of four marathons in five weeks.  Watching him run through was incredible, and I’m so excited for him and all of the finishers.

Now?  Now the season is really over.  Now it’s back to lifting, back to evaluating, back to figuring out what’s in store for next year.  I have some ideas, but I’m not ready to reveal them juuuuuust yet.  Stay tuned!  Recover well, everybody – and congratulations on your epic finish in the greatest city in the world.

Marine Corps Marathon 2019: Race Recap

The Marine Corps Marathon is one of my favorite races.  It’s well-run, the scenery is awesome, and it has a big-city marathon feel without the travel or entry complications most big-city races are burdened with. Getting in to Marine Corps is not a big deal, there are several modes of entry: a generous lottery, “Access Granted” through running the 1775K (which is also an awesome race), charity, or (recently) they’ve added a rush registration option.

When rush opened, I was sitting by Bubby’s bedside in her final weeks.  It was a rough time, and I was projecting mentally to the fall.  I knew that Mike would be running NYCM and that we’d be running Chicago together, but I also felt I wasn’t going to be ready to have my season end on the streets of Chicago.  I wanted another race, and I always love going to DC.  I registered for MCM without a second thought.  I told Mike he could either run with me or sit the weekend out (he decided to run with me).  This would be my third MCM (in a row, even!)

Flash forward to this weekend.  We had some initial complications; the AirBnB we had booked months ago canceled on us last minute due to problems with water in the apartment.  This is the first time I’ve ever had an AirBnB cancel on me, and AirBnB support was awesome.  They helped me find a new place, they even paid for the new place, and they got me a full refund on the cancelled place right away.  While it was a stressful few hours, it turned out okay in the end.

This was going to be a quick trip to DC.  I was coming from a conference at the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, VA (about a 2.5 hour drive south of DC) and met Mike in DC on Saturday.  We headed to the expo, picked up our bibs and shirts, and skipped basically everything else.  We don’t need more running gear, we don’t need more anything, we did pick up some anti-chafe because the weather was predicting rain all day and nothing causes chafe more than a wet race.

The shirts this year were actually really nice!  The past two years they’ve been kind of awful; last year they were so bad that they’ve developed a life of their own.  The quality on MCM shirts is always good, but they’re generally a mock turtleneck style and the colors/designs are just terrible.  Last year’s shirt is fleece-lined, so it’s the best warm underlayer I own, but it’s so ugly that I won’t be caught dead wearing it outside of my house (unless I’m heading to an ugly sweater party).  This year, the shirt was a quarter zip black and gray with a sleek MCM logo.  Really nice! My favorite MCM shirt by far!

We were set to do lunch with the crew from Ordinary Marathoners, and I was so excited about that get-together.  It was nice to finally meet a lot of the internet friends I’ve made over the past few months, and the OM crew is just an amazing group of people.  A really awesome lunch, and fun times were had!

After the expo, we had to do a quick round of grocery shopping, drop the bags and the groceries at the AirBnB, then return the car.  After that, it was time to get dinner and head to bed for our 4:30 AM wakeup call.  We grabbed ramen at a place near Dupont circle (Oki Bowl DC) – it was excellent!  Fantastic pre-race food with some salt, some carbs, and good protein. Super yummy to boot!

The morning, as usual, came way too early.  Luckily the AirBnB was comfortable and, as usual, equipped with a full kitchen.  We made breakfast and lubed up, knowing what we were in for.  I had packed a throw-away fleece, and over top of that I used a trash bag as a makeshift poncho.  To be honest, the forecast was calling for so much rain until the afternoon that I knew I was going to be wet before race start anyway (and stay wet most of the day). The game would be to stay comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible.

We grabbed a Lyft and headed to the Pentagon.  One of the benefits of taking a car to MCM is that you can get a bit of an early start and hit the village before crowds assemble.  It was already pouring.  The Lyft managed to drop us off on a back access road which cut our walk to the start village by at least a mile (the walkout from the kiss and ride is about 1.5 miles or so at MCM – I am not joking, I checked it one year).  By the time we got to the start village, we were already wet.  Well. It was going to be what it was. The temperature, at least, was comfortable enough so we weren’t cold (and that’s huge).

We didn’t have bags, so we breezed through security.  We had the clean and well-stocked port-a-lots to ourselves since we were there so early. We took some extra time making sure things were doing what they needed to do pre-race since there was no line for the lots and since it was basically the only place to be out of the rain. While I was port-a-loting, I surfed Facebook a bit (what, you don’t do that?) and found that an impromptu Galloway group was assembling to run 30/30 intervals at about a 13 minute mile.  13 would get me over the finish with a nice PR, which would be a great way to end the season.  Since I (finally) didn’t need to worry about another race happening, I decided to go for it.

Mike joined us too, and it was nice to be with a pack.  I’ve never run a race with anyone but Mike before, and even when we run together we don’t generally run together.  We talked with the people in the group, and the time went by quickly as we gathered and headed to the start line.

The start of MCM is usually epic with an Osprey fly-over, a parachute jump with the American flag, and fireworks.  The rain completely dampened the start this year, figuratively and literally. National anthem and that was it. I was sad to miss all of the usual MCM sparkle, but I guess I’ll just have to hope for better weather next year.

When I went to ditch my fleece, I could literally wring water out of the sleeves.  The rain continued, and I felt like I lost 20 pounds just ditching the wet fleece.  Soggy day in foggy bottom.

We were off!  We started the 30/30 intervals right from the start, and I was doing a great job hanging on to it.  I felt fantastic.  My body felt good, my legs felt fresh, everything was doing well.  Even the rain wasn’t so bad.  Since it was driving constant rain and everything was wet, it didn’t create any chafing early on.  Also: the temperature was such that the rain kept us cool, but not cold.  It felt good.

At about mile 13, puddles started to form on the course.  When I say

This is not my photo but it’s been making the rounds on Facebook. If it’s yours, please let me know and I will credit you! Mile 13 rivers….

“puddles,” I actually mean rivers.  I’m pretty sure my Oxen died and my party was consumed by cholera. The entire course was under water for stretches of 100 – 150 meters at a time.  There was a strip towards the center which was a bit more shallow, but the sides of the road were ankle-deep at least.  People flocked to the single strip and were walking single-file through the rough spots.

To be honest, at this point there was really nothing which could have made my feet any wetter than they already were.  I made the conscious choice to just run through the puddles – gingerly because I couldn’t actually see the footing under the water, and that’s always treacherous – but I didn’t see the point in slowing to a crawl just to avoid more water. It was coming down sideways.  My everything was soaked through.  There was literally rain inside my ears because of the angle it was hitting us.  There was just no making this any worse, so it was pointless to even try to avoid the puddles.

As we took the turn to do a little out-and-back right before the DC gauntlet, the sun came out.  And when I say “came out” I mean “with a vengeance.”  In a matter of what seemed like 20 minutes, it went from comfortably temperate and soaking wet, to clear blue skies and in the high seventies.  Predictably, this is where I started to ride the struggle bus. I grabbed some water, fell behind my pace group, and chased them through the DC Gauntlet at mile 17.

We took the turn around the Lincoln memorial and as we started to run up capitol hill, I lost them entirely.  My feet were starting to hurt and the heat was coming on fast.  Luckily, I had been drinking plenty of water and electrolytes and I had kept up my fueling strategy so I wasn’t feeling depleted – just the usual wall of tired.  I kept up 30/30 intervals on my own, but they were slow.  As I ran back down capitol hill I kept thinking to myself “Where is that fricken bridge!?”

I beat the bridge handily with 45 minutes to spare.  As I struggle bussed my way through the bridge, I caught up to a friend from my triathlon club (Kylie) and said hello.  She was walking since she was still recovering from a tough day on the course at IMCHOO, and I had a choice: I could keep moving at my speed and probably hit a PR, if not at least break 6 today for the second time in my marathon career, or walk with her.

Honestly?  I wasn’t prepared to fight the mental battle that that PR would have taken.  I knew that I had it in me, I felt that my body could do it if I pushed, but it was going to be rough.  I wasn’t ready for rough.  I just wanted to finish this race, and I was looking forward to being done with my marathoning season.  So I walked.

It was awesome.  We chatting, and it kept my mind off the miles. As we walked, it got hotter and hotter and my feet were in more and more pain.  By mile 21, I realized that I had significant blisters on the bottoms of my feet – we’re talking full foot pad sized blisters.  As we walked through Crystal City, my gait altered and each step was pure torture. Around mile 24, I had to tell Kylie that I needed to see if running would make my feet feel any better (she was totally cool with it – thanks, Kylie!).

I started up my 30/30 intervals again and each step was pure agony.  I could feel the fluid moving around in the blisters, and I knew I was in trouble.  Then, finally, about mile 25, I felt them pop.  A stab of pain, followed by release of fluid (not that my sock could get any wetter – most of the rest of me dried out, but not my socks!) and I was running on raw feet instead of raw blistered feet.  It was a slight upgrade, but still painful as hell.

That last 2 miles at MCM is just awful.  It’s highway, with no scenery, and no spectators.  To make matters worse, this year a few pro-life activists set up GIANT bloody billboards on one of the pentagon access roads where (literally) only the runners would be to see them.  These billboards featured all of the things you think of when you think of stereotypical anti-science right-wing nut-jobs: bloody gore and fake baby parts, “abortion is murder,” yea.  All of that. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for any woman who has a complicated history with her reproductive health to see that assault on decency at this point in a marathon.  I’m told that there were, eventually, marines who stationed themselves at that point in the course and were encouraging runners to “get their heads back in the race” (which might be the best they can do, I’m not familiar with laws governing the use of semi-public pentagon access roads). I really hope this isn’t a repeat occurrence and that the race can somehow figure out how to keep their runners psychologically safe from shit like this.

Running out the last mile of MCM, you pass through the start chute and the first few hundred meters of the race. You take a left, run up a hill, and there’s a marine there to give you your medal.  Usually, there’s a finisher’s arch, but the rain was coming down so heavily early in the day that it collapsed on itself.  As a result, this year it was very difficult to figure out where the finish line was.  To be honest, I sort of wandered across it blithely getting ready for my final kick (which I never got to give).  A little disappointing, I guess, but to be honest I was just glad to be done.

A marine put a medal on my neck, and I went to find a seat.  Mike texted me that he was slowing down (he’s got NY this weekend and people were dropping like flies on the course from dehydration, so he decided not to kill himself).  As soon as I sat, my feet felt much better.  I knew it would be a struggle to walk down MCM’s extremely long finish chute, but I was fairly confident that I would make it despite my feet doing whatever they were currently doing.

Mike finished, we grabbed some pictures, and for the first time after an MCM we opted to do public transit rather than Uber back to our AirBnB.  Let me say: this was the correct call.  Whenever we try to hail a rideshare from the MCM finish line, we wind up waiting a ridiculously long time for cars that get lost, or accidentally pick up other runners, or just cancel their rides with us.  On the subway, we got right on and we were back to our AirBnB in about 30 minutes (even with a stop at CVS to pick up some shampoo and conditioner since we had both managed to forget it).

We both discovered chafing in some new and exciting spots during that glorious post-race shower, but I’m pleased to say that my feet (and chafe) are healing well.  Another fantastic year at MCM in spite of overwhelming obstacles, and I’m excited to make it back next year.

I’m also STOKED that my race season is over!  I can hardly believe it, but I no longer have to worry about packing for my next race, or training for my next race, or getting my head ready for my next race.  I’m already working on some big plans for next year, but right now I’m just grateful for the incredible season I’ve had, and the time to rest, recoup, and heal.  And soon: I’ll be back lifting the big weights.  I’m grateful for every moment, and every step I’ve been able to take in this incredible journey so far with more to come!

Running Back to Back Marathons

I’ve been getting this question a lot this season (for obvious reasons), and I think it deserves more than a 50-word response to a Facebook post:

I have back-to-back marathons planned, what should my training plan be in between? 

Let’s recap.  This year, my race season looked as such:

August 18: Ironman Mont Tremblant
September 29: Berlin Marathon (6 weeks after IMMT)
October 13: Chicago Marathon (2 weeks after Berlin)
October 27: Marine Corps Marathon (2 weeks after Chicago)

Last year, I did MCM right into NYCM (one week apart).  I have some experience on this front.

First things first: I would not recommend this schedule after an Ironman.  Yes, I was ready for Berlin – but it was a stretch.  I anticipated, when planning this season, that I would be in great shape for a marathon following an Ironman (after all, I wouldn’t have to swim 2.4 miles and bike 114 just to have the privilege of running).  I was so very wrong.  I underestimated the toll that an Ironman takes on your body, and I tweaked a hamstring in the weeks leading up to Berlin as I tried to roll back into my usual flow. The common rule is a solid 4 weeks of rest after an Ironman before you attempt anything of intensity, and after my experience this year I will say that I definitely endorse this rule of thumb.

Ironman aside, I have the back-to-back race thing pretty down pat.  Here’s how I generally manage it.  The plan will change slightly depending on if you have one week (Sunday to Sunday) as opposed to two weeks (a weekend in between, as I had this year), but the principles remain the same.

Obviously, this will depend a lot on what kind of shape you’re in.  You do notwant to attempt back-to-back races undertrained, or over-trained for that matter.  You really need to hit that sweet Goldilocks spot of being ready, but not exhausted.  You also need to respect your taper before your first race; trust your training cycle and trust your coach (if you’re using one).  Also, please note, this is not a custom-tailored training plan (obviously).  This is a set of guidelines that I created which work very well for me, and others I’ve guided through the process.  Always listen to your coach, trust your team, and trust your body.  You will know what’s best for you, but hopefully these can get you thinking about how you might approach what’s best for you.

I’m going to pick up right after your first marathon, for the sake of simplicity.  You run your race.  The way you feel coming out of the race is going to have a big impact on what you do next.  Do you feel like you’ve been run through a meat-grinder?  How sore are you?  Did you injure yourself during the race?  If injury, then you’re probably going to be resting up, getting some PT and a sports massage, and either skipping race 2 or seriously sand-bagging it.  Consider what’s going to be best for the long term – one (extra) marathon is not worth a season on the sidelines, or (heaven forbid) more serious complications down the road.

Day 0; Race Day: No matter how you’re feeling, you want to make sure that you get in a good bit of walking directly following the race. Try to walk at least a mile on the day of the race if possible.  Get some compression gear on your muscles, and slowly walk it off.  You want to get bloodflow to the muscles as soon as you can, and going home and taking a nap after the race is not going to help you.  Shower, put on some compression socks, and walk to dinner afterwards.

Drink water.  Eat protein.  Eat some carbs.  Make sure you’re giving your body the correct tools to refuel and repair itself.

The night of the race, do some light stretching.  Make sure you get in a good hamstring stretch, lengthening out the back of your legs.  This is especially true if you have to travel after the race; sitting for a prolonged period of time is just going to encourage your hammies to shrivel up and die.  Keep them long, keep them limber, keep the bloodflow going.

Day 1:The next day, take stock.  What’s your relative level of soreness?  Compression as a recovery aid in the 48 hours after a long effort does have some science behind it, so keep wearing those compression garments.

Continue to stretch, continue to do light recovery walks.  The number one most important factor in your recovery at this point is sleep, so get yourself 9-10 hours a night if possible. If not, make sure you get some post-race naps slotted in to your calendar.  This is true for the duration of your recovery period.  If you have to choose between a workout and sleep, choose sleep.  Your body needs that.

It’s also a good time for some (purely) upper body strength training

Other things you should be doing the duration of the recovery period: drink water.  Lots of water; a gallon a day if you can manage it.  Eat nutrient-dense foods with plenty of protein.  Stay away from sugar and alcohol (sugar encourages inflammation, which you definitely do not want and alcohol taxes your liver, which you also do not want).  Your goals right now are to flush your system, keep your muscles moving, and give your body the tools it needs to repair damaged muscle tissue.

Epsom salt baths can also be incredibly helpful if you have the facilities for them.

Day 2:How do you feel today?  If you’re feeling okay and not terribly sore, consider a swim (if it’s part of your training regime already).  I find that being horizontal in the water for 45 minutes while encouraging circulation and getting some no impact cardiovascular work is incredibly helpful to my recovery.  This is not a workout to push, this is really just to get your body moving and working.

If you’re feeling okay and not terribly sore and you don’t have access to a pool (or other swimming capabilities), do another long walk.  Maybe a short bike ride (do not push, just get your body going).  You could also use a recumbent bike or other bike trainer at the gym. This is not permission to take a spin class, you just want to spin your legs and get moving a little bit.  An elliptical could also work for this.  No longer than 20-25 minutes no matter what you do (out of the water).

If you’re still super sore, then don’t push.  Continue to stretch, use your foam roller, take an Epsom salt bath, take a walk. Get moving, but don’t feel like you mustwork out.

Days 3-5: If you’re feeling good, you might consider going for a light run of 1-2 miles.  No speed work, just get the legs going.

Biking, swimming, walking, elliptical; all of that is still on the menu.  You can do any of these activities as often as you like.  If you chose to run, do no more than 2 workouts of 1-2 miles during these days.  Whatever you do, keep your workouts under 45 minutes in length.

Day 5: If you have a 7-day turn-around, this is the last day you should really think about doing any significant work.

Day 6-7: If you have a two-week turn-around, this will be the weekend between your races.  I like to go for a bike ride of 60-90 minutes at a RPE of around 6-7.  If I push to 7, I don’t keep it there very long (maybe less than 20 minutes of the ride, combined).

If you don’t have a bike, you might consider an elliptical workout to keep impact low.  DO NOT go to a spin class! That’s going to be way too taxing for this weekend.  Remember: you’re still, essentially, in taper.  Don’t do anything you wouldn’t normally do the week before a big race.  If you feel really good and you are used to doing back-to-back runs, you could do a run of 6-8 miles.

Day 8: Rest.  Seriously. I know it feels like you haven’t worked very much this last week, but that’s by design.  Your body is still recovering and you need to respect that.

Foam roll, stretch, meditative yoga if you must (no power yoga!), continue hydrating and getting good nutrition in.

Days 9 -12: You should be feeling a little better at this point, and maybe you’re up to runs of 2-3 miles.  If so, great!  Do 1 or 2 in this time period!  If not: then don’t tax your body.  Swim, elliptical, bike rides.  Keep your workouts under 45 minutes in length to allow yourself maximum recovery time.

Day 13: Day before the race.  Do some walking, but don’t push anything; you’ve got a marathon to run tomorrow!  Cut back on your hydration a little bit so that you’re well-watered, but not feeling like you need to pee every hour.  You want your cells to be plenty hydrated, but you don’t want to be making bathroom stops every two miles.

Day 14: RACE DAY!  Go out there and kill it!

Obviously, there is no one size fits all training solution, but this is the best formula I’ve found to keeping myself in race condition for back-to-back marathons.  I hope it’s useful to you; and whatever you do: make sure to get that sleep in!

Chicago Marathon Race Report

Chicago Chicago Chicago.

Two weeks after the Berlin marathon, we were ready to take on our second world major this year (my third Abbott Star).  Mike was lucky enough to get a lottery place for Chicago, but I did not.  When lottery results were released in December (11th… my birthday no less), we talked over our options and it looked like Mike really wanted to run it this year.  So I set about looking for a charity bib.

Most of the charities for Chicago had a fundraising minimum of $1,750 (which wasn’t terribly daunting, but did seem like a lot of money).  Still: even if I didn’t raise a dime, it would have been cheaper than a second trip to Chicago for two of us.  This would be my first time raising money for a charity bib, and I knew a few things from doing research in anticipation of an eventual Boston charity bib. I knew I had to find a charity with a message that I connected to personally.

Me and Bubby at my hooding

My grandmother (I call her “Bubby”) was very sick.  A 98-year-old two-time cancer survivor, we expected that her advanced age and likely continual complications with cancer had a lot to do with the illness which had kept her bed-bound since a fall in October.  I signed up to run with the American Cancer Society in her honor, and was thrilled to be able to share the news with her.  She was touched, and proud, and I was happy we could share that moment.

Bubby died in late March. It’s been a hard year.  Many very generous family members made contributions to my run in honor of her, and many more generous friends made contributions through other fundraising efforts I ran.  I was able to meet and slightly exceed my minimum by mid-July.  I was, and am, so grateful to everyone who could contribute – it meant a lot to me to honor Bubby this way, and I seriously can’t express how very thankful I am to everyone who helped make it possible.

Flash forward to this week. We arrived in Chicago on Friday morning, and took the very convenient subway from the airport to the hotel.  We found Chicago’s public transit (busses and trains) to be reliable and easy to navigate, and since we were there four days we each bought a $28 seven-day unlimited Ventra pass.  Since one trip on the subway was $2.80, we did the math and figured we’d be taking more than ten trips.  We took way more than ten trips.  Extra convenient with Chicago is that the subway takes you right into the belly of O’Hare, which is one of the most hassle-free airport runs I’ve ever experienced.  Bonus: the Ventra cards for the weekend are marathon-themed, and are going to make an awesome addition to our Chicago shadow box!

We checked in to the hotel, and went straight to the expo.  The race runs shuttle busses to get you to the expo and one bus location was from the Nike store on Michigan avenue. Since we were already there previewing the merch, we decided to hop on a bus from the Nike store.  There was a line out

Photo op at the Nike store with the course lit in neon!

front for what we presumed to be the bus, and we were told we would have to go back inside and register.  We thought this was weird because we hadn’t seen anything about pre-registration on any of the websites, but… okay.  We went upstairs to the registration desk and were told we had to download the Nike app to register.  Already grumpy, we were now livid.  First unmentioned pre-registration, now a proprietary app? We got the app (and it required us to make a Nike+ account) and finally got registered, only to be told the next bus wasn’t coming for an hour.

At this point we were beyond pissed.  Finally, someone mentioned that there was another bus leaving from a different corner. Apparently all of this rigmarole wasn’tfor the official expo busses, but rather for a private Nike bus that they were running (the Nike+ experience or something).  That’s all well and good, but they should have at least told us there was another option before asking us to complete all the steps to have the privilege of waiting on line for the special bus.

Finally on the bus to the expo, we were excited to arrive.  We chatted with all the other athletes (fielding a lot of questions about our Ironman hats, and our Berlin jackets).  It was really nice, as nice as being crammed into a schoolbus with 150 other athletes can be.

The expo is huge.  It might be the largest expo I’ve ever been to (the possible exception being Boston).  It’s sometimes overwhelming to be with so many people (we specifically came on Friday because we knew that it would be slammed on Saturday).  That said, Chicago has one of the best crowd control systems I’ve ever seen when it comes to packet pickup.

You walk through security (bag check and a metal detector), and stop at a kiosk where you present your ID and QR code.  They check your ID, scan your code, and direct you to a numbered desk where your packet is waiting.  Specifically, they tell you which counter to approach so you know exactly where you are going.  I assume this is based on bib number since Mike and I were at separate desks, vaguely corresponding to our different pre-assigned numbers. The lines at the desk were short, and people made it through quickly.  We had our bibs in about 5 minutes.

From there, you proceed to the back of the expo to pick up your shirt (we both ordered the correct size – though NOTE they do run small… I always get the women’s XL because apparently female runners aren’t allowed to have shoulders).  Again, this was low-stress.  I think it was probably much crazier on Saturday.

As low stress as the packet pickup was, the official Nike merch tent was insane.  They were blasting LOUD music so it was impossible to hear anyone unless they were speaking very loudly and clearly directly in front of you, and there were a LOT of people.  It wasn’t quite the insanity that was Berlin (at least I found the right sizes in everything I was looking for), but it was nuts.  I wound up picking up a really nice long sleeve quarter zip, and a hoodie.  I was disappointed that the women’s jackets this year were awful.  They were plain black, just a single layer of windbreaker material (no lining; definitely not warm), and had weird zippered pockets that I can only describe as “under-boob pockets.”  They had a small logo on the chest and “26.2” emblazed in black on the sleeve (I do like black on black, but this was just a bit subtle for my tastes).  I was disappointed because I’ve been collecting a jacket from each world major, and was sad that my Chicago “jacket” would be a hoodie and, therefore, not quite matching my set.  Still, the other merch was solid.  Mike got a hat, which he liked, a men’s jacket, and a long sleeve shirt.

We were also disappointed that they didn’t have a mascot or stuffie, since we are determined to collect one from each major.  Instead, we grabbed a baby’s bib and decided to make our own mascot to join Fridolin Fink.

Photo ops at the expo

We stopped by the ACS table to pick up banquet tickets and check in.  It was nice to finally see the people I had been talking to all year via e-mail in person.  It was also nice to feel like part of the team.

We did a lap of the rest of the expo – pretty standard stuff, but very nice.  They had free footrubs, but the line was long enough that we didn’t want to wait in it.  On the whole, a well-run expo.

We got back in line to get on the bus and head out.  On line and on the bus, we met more people who asked more questions about Ironman and Berlin, and it was awesome to chat with runners who had similar experiences to us. Kind of like grown-up summer camp. Very fun.

That night, we had dinner with team ACS at the official team dinner.  I basically cried my way through it, remembering my Bubby and thinking about how proud she would be.  At dinner, they revealed that our team had raised over $1.3 million in this one event alone.  I was so grateful to be part of the team, and excited that I could help out in Bubby’s memory.

Saturday, we had a day to bum around the city.  We went to the Field Museum to satiate my love of dinosaurs.  While there, we acquired our “official” Chicago mascot: a t-rex (obviously) who we named Teresa and who fits the previously-acquired bib perfectly.  Afterwards, we stopped back at the Nike store to see the finisher gear.  In Chicago, they release it to select locations the day before the race (which I think is really nice – if you’re planning to get the hell out of dodge right after the race, it gives you a fighting chance to buy a shirt or jacket that you can re-sell on the internet if disaster strikes). The women’s jacket was awesome, so I grabbed one!  I was so happy that I would have a jacket to add to my collection!  By the time we got there, they only had XL left in women’s (fine for me, see above), and they were all out of men’s (apparently they release a limited number each day).  Mike ordered one for himself online, and it’ll be to our house before we get home. Nice.  After that, we had dinner with an old friend who was running the marathon (her first!), and came back to our hotel to crash early.

Hanging in the start corral

I AGONIZED over what to wear for this race.  The weather was predicting “PR conditions,” but the wind in Chicago is insane (they don’t call it the “windy city” for nothing).  I finally decided on a sparkle skirt, long socks, thin long-sleeve layer under my ACS singlet, a fleecy long sleeve to tie around my waist in case I lost core temperature, thin gloves, a sweat-vac hat (which I had embroidered a message from my Bubby on in her handwriting), and fleece ear warmers.

Race day morning, we woke up and had some bagel sandwiches with ham and cheese.  We then made our way to the Palmer House Hotel where ACS had a private room for team runners pre-race, with real bathrooms and real sinks and a private gear check.  That was awesome.  We both used the restroom (multiple times for me!) and then got together to be shepherded down to the start line.

When we got to the start area, we got on line for the bathroom immediately because we both had to go… again.  Officially, we were supposed to load into the corral by 8:10 for an 8:30 start.  If you miss getting into the corral by 8:10, you have to line up at the back.  This wasn’t a problem for us since we were in the last corral anyway, but it was a little anxiety-producing.  We got on line for the bathroom at 7:50. The line was very long, and we didn’t get in to the port-a-lots until about 8:15.  The port-a-lots were SLAMMED but they did have plenty of TP and hand sanitizer, so I’ll call that a win.  Despite being anxious about timing, we managed to squeak in as the corral started its walkout to the start.  Not the best way to start the day, but I guess a little adrenaline is good for you at the start line?

They sent us off.  Despite the timing issue with the toilets, we were middle back of the corral and it took us about 25 minutes to cross the start line.

The Chicago marathon is pancake flat, but there are a few “bumps” along the way.  One of those uphill bumps is directly after the start (rude, amiright?).  I took the first two miles at a blistering-for-me pace.  I had it in the back of my head that it might be a good day to push, and I had acquired a 5:45 pace tattoo at the expo.  I was planning to run a strong half then see what I had in the tank, and positive split for a potential sub-six finish (my second sub-six ever).  I did, however, have in my head that Marine Corps is in two short weeks and I do have to make sure that I’m in shape for that.  I wasn’t ready to sell out, but I was aware that the weather and the flat course would give me an advantage.  I was ready to see what I could do.

The first half went really really well.  I was well ahead of my 5:45 pace as I warmed up, and the crowd support was very nice. You’re going to hate me for saying this all the time: but New York is definitely better.  The Chicago crowds were great, but there were a lot of dead spots (way more than in NY).  Still, I loved the signs and the energy, and there’s nothing quite like running through a major city!

I had been warned ahead of time that the tall buildings in Chicago wreck havoc on Garmin connectivity. If you want to know your splits, you have to set your watch to manual lap.  I did, and was VERY thankful for it.  I seem to have missed the fourth mile marker, but otherwise did well with manual laps the whole race.  Thank you, internet friends, for that crucial Chicago tip.

I stuck to my nutrition plan of one strupwafel an hour (I use Dolman’s because the nutrition info is almost identical to Honey Stinger’s waffles, and they taste way better, and they’re less than a quarter of the price if you buy them in bulk).  For electrolytes, I used the Gatoraid endurance they had on course (one or two cups and hour depending on how full the cups were). One thing I will say about this course is that there is SO much water.  I ran with a belt, because it’s my security blanket and I knew I would be adjusting my layers all day, but I could easily have run with a handheld (or, if you take in less water than I do, nothing at all).  The water support was top notch and very organized, with someone on a megaphone calling out “bathrooms to both sides, Gatoraid first, then water” or similar instructions at each aid station.

The temperatures were in the low fifties but the wind was NUTS.  As I continued to run, my Bubby in my heart, I couldn’t help but think that the wind was incredibly feisty – just like her.  I ran, I cried, I talked to Bubby, I ran some more, I laughed, I cried some more, it was an emotional day.  I had, on my back, a memorial ribbon for her and every time there was a tail wind, the ribbon would fly up and tap me on the shoulder.  I started to think

My Bubby flag and hat

it was her, saying hello, helping me along.  I don’t really believe in the afterlife, but it’s a comforting thought and one that I was willing to hold onto all day long.

After the halfway mark, things started to go downhill (not literally – the course was still flat). It got a little bit colder and little bit windier and my knees (the only part of my legs that weren’t covered) started to get cold.  I needed a mantra, fast.  The one that came to mind: “Don’t stop fighting.  Just get to mile 15.”

I repeated it over and over and over.  At mile 15, it because mile 16.  At mile 16, it became mile 18.  Between miles 16 and 18 I had a bit of a breakdown and an ugly cry as Bubby and I chatted.  I was in the pain cave, and I was feeling so sad that this thing we had started together was going to come to an end soon.  It’s the last thing, I think, that we worked on together.  The last thing I could say I shared with her when she was living that I had to complete.

Objectively, it’s not. This is one step in the journey towards my six Abbott stars, towards marathon PRs, a day that nobody can take away from me.  And I know I’ll always have Bubby in my heart, but it’s still really hard.  It felt like a goodbye, and I’m not terribly good at goodbyes.

I found a second wind at mile 18, maybe because the crowd support kicked up again, maybe because I started accepting bananas from aid station volunteers. Whatever it was, it was nice.   Still, at this point it was clear that I could probably break 6 today if I really wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to sell out for it.  I have another marathon in two weeks, and I need to protect my ability to finish that one.  I decided that I wasn’t going to fight for the sub-six, that I was just going to set a good baseline time for myself in preparation for a marathon PR attempt next season.  I took a few extra walk breaks because my legs were hurting, my hamstrings especially, and I was REALLY looking forward to the Biofeeze station at mile 21.  As soon as I got there, I pulled over and let the nice Biofreeze man spray me down from ass to ankles on the backside.

As always after a good Biofreezing, I felt like a new woman.  My legs were fresh and I was ready to roll.  I moved through the last few miles intermingling joy and tears, and the wind kicked up again as Bubby and I prepared to say goodbye to each other (but not really).  Turning the final corner, I could see the finish line and I had a huge smile on my face. I was CLOSE to that six hour mark (24 seconds, to be precise).  I crossed the finish line, and felt good.

The Chicago finisher’s chute is MUCH more organized than the Berlin finisher’s chute.  There are stations and people handing you everything you need – snacks, medal, heat sheet, and BEER!  Goose Island hands you a beer at the finish!  That’s a first for me in a marathon, and I gladly accepted it. I pounded the beer and headed back to the private ACS room where Mike and I had arranged to meet up.

I was SO grateful to have somewhere warm and dry, but even more than that there was some delicious food, massage tables, and Normatec boots for our use.  I was so happy to receive a massage and some time in the Normatecs (usually these amenities are packed up by the time I hit the finish, so I was so grateful to ACS for keeping things going long enough for us back-of-packers to take advantage).  I ate a small salad and two slices of pizza just to stave off the hanger beast, and my legs felt amazing after the recovery protocol.

We came back to the hotel, showered, and went to Giordano’s for more Chicago deep dish and more salad. A race well run, and a day well spent. Mike had a decent day too despite some fueling issues, but that’s his story to tell and I’ll let him tell it.

On the whole: Chicago is an amazing race.  Great crowd support (though, again, it’s not New York!), amazing organization, and a nice flat course.  It’s not super difficult to get into, which is nice.  I would absolutely run it again.

Berlin Marathon 2019 Race Report

What a day at the Berlin marathon!

Six weeks after my Ironman, I honestly wasn’t sure if I was ready to run a marathon.  Back in October of 2018, we had entered the lottery thinking “there’s no way we’ll get in on the first try.”  Berlin has a great system where you can lottery as a team of two or three, so we entered as a team of two.  Guess what? My second Abbott star was destined to be Berlin 2019.

By the time the season started shaping out, it was clear that we would be rolling off of Ironman into a mess of Marathons.  Mike had deferred New York from last year, and he got into Chicago as well (I raised charity money to secure my place in Chicago 2019).  When registration opened for Marine Corps, I realized I would be in DC that weekend anyway for a conference so why not stay the extra day to run the marathon?  Long story short: after Ironman, Berlin would be the first in a series of three marathons that rounded out my season.  Four for Mike.  Daunting, but I had just become an Ironman – anything is possible, right?

Two weeks before the race, I tweaked my hamstring doing a routine squat (recovery from and Ironman is intense and I didn’t respect that process enough).  While I had backed off the barbell weights, it seems I hadn’t backed off quite enough.  I immediately put a halt on running and through massage, hot tub therapy, and using biking and swimming to top off my training, my hamstring was feeling better by the week of the race but I was still a little nervous.  My longest run since my Ironman had been 16 miles – which is a far cry from the usual 20 – 22 miler I like to do a few weeks before a marathon. Still, I had to trust that the fitness was there – I wasn’t going to fly halfway around the world and not even show up to try!

We went to the expo after we landed on Friday.  We hadn’t slept on the plane.  We were basically zombies, but we were walking – the walking dead.

We arrived at Tempelhof airport after a slight misadventure in acquiring transit cards from a broken machine.  Besides the ticket machines not working, the public transportation system in Berlin is incredible, and we loved the ease with which we could get places on the train or tram.  When we exited the train, there were volunteers in safety vests at every corner directing us where we needed to be.  Perfect.

The expo was a MADHOUSE. So many people (and this was on Friday!).  The first stop for us was to get our wristbands.  In Berlin, they affix ribbon wristbands to participants after checking your ID and start card to ensure that you haven’t handed your bib off to someone else.  A smart system, if you ask me.  We entered a large cattle corral and were funneled down a line (which moved rather quickly) to a volunteer who checked our start cards and passports.  I assume any photo ID would work, but we used our passports.  I had a paper version of my start ticket and my husband has his on the phone.  Both were scanned without issue or incident, and we were able to proceed through.

“Bagged and tagged,” we made our way through the very back of the expo to pick up the important things – our bibs and race materials.  After showing our wristband, start card, and passport to a kind lady at the bib booth, we received our materials.  The bibs were printed on-demand right in front of us, which was new and different and seemed to hold up the start process (the lines took quite a while back there).  We both opted for the poncho, so we didn’t get a clear plastic bag of any kind – just the bibs.  We grabbed some safety pins, an event guide, and an event magazine, and made our way towards the front of the expo center.

We hit the official merch tent because neither of us had pre-purchased finisher’s shirts or gear. In Berlin, a shirt isn’t included with your basic registration, anything you want you have to buy.  We both have a growing jacket collection for the world majors, so we both had our hearts set on a Berlin jacket, and we each kind of wanted a tee shirt.  Also: a tiny Fridolin Fink to take home to our growing collection of Marathon Major Mascots.

The merch area was a war zone.  The volunteers were trying to hang things up, but it was just a madhouse of grabbing and snatching, people trying to find what they wanted in the correct size.  I grabbed two jackets in different sizes, and found a hoodie sweatshirt that looked awesome as well.  Mike and I met back at a central meeting location with our loot in hand and decided on what we wanted.  I was kind of glad that we hadn’t pre-ordered because both the shirt and jacket on pre-order were kind of lame (I really didn’t care for the material of the official finisher’s shirt, and this year’s red jacket was just not built for any kind of weather.  Luckily, they had a second jacket that was nice with a lining which made it midweight and mildly rain repellant – very nice!)

Significantly lighter of purse, we made our way back towards the front of the expo.  We didn’t do any more shopping because it was so crowded and we were so tired.  We met my parents, and headed back to our Airbnb by way of dinner.

The next day, we did a little scouting to make sure that we knew our way to the start line the morning of the race.  We were both a little worried about getting to the start because generally you need to pad out plenty of time for a big race (we’re used to things like the Marine Corps Marathon where you plan to arrive at LEAST 90 minutes to two hours in advance just to clear security and walk out to the start line).  We also wanted to make sure we knew where the entrance to the start coral was because we knew that the start would be controlled and wanted to make sure we had minimal travel time, if at all possible. We did get a good view of the start, and the finish, and then we did some sight-seeing in Berlin.

Marathon morning: what a relief to be up at a normal time!  We were all the way back in corral H and weren’t set to start until 10:10. Because of Berlin’s excellent public transit, we knew we’d be to the start in about a half hour (but left 45 minutes just in case).  Another excellent feature of this race is that your bib serves as a public transit ticket all day.  That was awesome and meant we didn’t have to worry about pre-buying tickets, or the machines not working on race morning.  We were up at 7 AM, ate some eggs and delicious local cheese/bread, and headed out the door around 8.  We arrived at the starting are before 9.  All was well.

In watching the weather all week, it became apparent that we were likely in for some rain.  High fifties and rainy.  “Perfect” for a marathon (did you see my sarcasm font?). I opted to wear my sparkle skirt (never run a marathon in anything but a sparkle skirt – the pocket capacity alone is worth its weight in gold!), my Captain America quick dry shirt, my Constantly Varied Gear bra (also an MVP – love those things, AND they’re cute!), a sweat vac Team Determination Baseball cap (with special message from my Bubby embroidered on the back in her handwriting), InkNBurn arm sleeves, and a thin Brooks shirt from MCM that I could layer on or off.  I was worried I would get chillier when the wind blew, and I knew the extra layer would be key when I needed it.  I also had a throw-away hoodie to get me to the start without being cold.

For fuel, I had seven Dolman’s strupwafels in my pocket in a Ziploc bag.  I had my waterproof spi belt with me to protect my phone, but I stuffed it in my other leg pocket rather than wearing it as a belt.  I wore my four-bottle Fuelbelt with water just in case some of the aid stations ran out, and I had base electrolyte salts for sodium.

When we got to the corrals, we did our first port-a-lot trip and this was where we made a big rookie mistake: almost none of the lots had toilet paper.  We both usually take some with us on races, but both managed to forget it this time.  Luckily, we were able to find a few lots with some squares left and we both loaded our pockets (lightly so that we didn’t take all of the small amount left).  We chastised ourselves because we know better than that, but oh well.  Here we were.

We made our way to the start corral and hung out for a bit, watching the giant screens and just taking in the vibe.  The DJ was on point, making sure that there were plenty of pump-up tunes (I will admit that I teared up a little when “Try Everything” came on…. Yea, I’m gonna try everything even though I may fail… like today, when I may fail to make it to the finish line within the 6:15 time cutoff because I just am not sure how my body is holding up post-Ironman).

Soon enough, it was time for our wave to go off.  The DJ played a game right before each wave that involved getting the crowd pumped by having us all clap together.  That was really cool because have you ever been in the middle of 50,000 people clapping in unison?  Over 150 different countries, countless languages, and all of us clapping together… like a heartbeat in the crowd.  Beautiful.

My parents came to Berlin to support us and it was the first time I would have someone following me around the race all day.  The night before the race, my dad and I sat down with the Berlin map, a subway map, and the handy dandy spectator information the race provided in the race magazine.  Berlin has an awesome section devoted to spectators in the magazine and pre-plans a few routes for spectators along the marathon – complete with subway directions. My parents, the over-achievers that they are, opted for the longest route with the most stops.  We would see them approximately every 5k.

As we headed out of the start line towards the victory tower, my legs were feeling good.  I high-fived my mom and dad on my way past them, and then settled in to run a strong first mile.  I wasn’t sure how it would go, but my legs were feeling fresh and I was holding a pretty aggressive for me pace.

I usually run out the first mile, then swap to my 90/30 run/walk intervals.  I felt it out a little bit and was doing great by the end of mile one, so I choked back my pace a little but didn’t really turn on the intervals until deep into the fourth mile.  I took walks when I wanted them, but was making good time.  I saw my parents again at kilometer 6.9.  After that, things started to get more difficult. It started to rain.  A lot.  Everything was wet and soggy.  I had put some extra trail toes on my bits in the morning, knowing I was likely going to get rained on, but still; it’s not exactly pleasant to be damp.

I started to count down the kilometers until I saw my parents.  Km 11, 14, 19… after I got through a few stops I would check the list in my pocket and memorize the next few.

I LOVE running marathons in kilometers.  It’s just a little bit easier, mentally, to feel like you’re getting somewhere when the numbers go up so quickly.  Ironman was the same way, and it really helped my mental game.  I start to explore the dark place a little bit after Km 11, but I knew that if I could just get to the next checkpoint and see my folks, then the next one, then the next one, I would be at the halfway mark soon.

And my parents were serious MVPs.  My dad ran the New York Marathon with me last year, so he knew what crowd support could do for a runner.  Maybe it was because of the cold rain, maybe it was because of the German people, but the crowd support just wasn’t there this race.  It didn’t feel like a big city run, except for the fact that we were running through a big city.  There was almost no one out there cheering us (though those who were out there were DIE HARD and I loved every single one of them).  It was awesome to see people having marathon parties on their balconies, or the little old man in a tweed vest and long socks with his noisemaker. There were so many bands out there playing for us (I left my headphones at home specifically because I had heard this about Berlin).  But except for the select few, the race route was pretty deserted most of the time.  It was fine, it just wasn’t New York.  I guess not everything can be!

Alright, km 22, see my folks, I’m halfway.  It was really coming down by this point and I was SOAKED.  I quickly pulled out the list and memorized the last few checkpoints: 27, 32, 37, 38….

They became my mantra. I repeated them to myself over and over again.  After about mile 16, things went off the rails.  I was getting cold, I could feel my fingers start to puff up (not a good sign), and the top of my left quad was threatening to quit on me.  I immediately went into crisis management: okay, I had peed several times so I didn’t need MORE water.  I eased back on the salt (the last time my fingers puffed up like this was at Disney and I DEFINITELY over-hydrated on that race).  I put on my extra layer, which had sleeves that covered my fingers.  After a few kilometers of this, I realized that the issue was probably temperature. Luckily, the extra layer seemed to do the trick and the discomfort eased.

EXCEPT for my quad. Every walk break, I wasn’t entirely sure if I would be able to start running again.  They did have massage stations every 5K or so after the half, but I knew I would be cutting it close enough that I didn’t want to risk taking even a few minutes to let someone massage the quad.  I promised myself that if it got much worse I would stop for a massage.  I would have done some pretty sketchy things for some BioFreeze (note to self: add a small bottle of BioFreeze spray to race kit for future), not that it would have stayed on my skin for more than a few moments.

The rain came, the rain went.  The wind blew chilly, but not too chilly.  It was cold, but not frigid.  I dressed appropriately.  There was really not being comfortable in this weather, but it was tolerable.

The aid stations had water, a weird sports drink called Beetster that was beet based (I stayed away from it because I hadn’t tried it in training), warm sweetened tea (which I started drinking after the halfway point because I just needed something warm and sweet), apple slices, and bananas.  There was one gel stop (again I avoided this because I didn’t want to introduce new nutrition), and a red bull stop along the way.

I drank one of my six-ounce bottles between every aid station and filled it back up from the cups at each aid station, then generally took an extra cup of water to drink as I passed through.  The cups were recyclable, and they asked all the runners to be extra careful about putting them back in bins rather than discarding them in the street.  I am happy to report that I made each of those shots.  No cups were wasted on my account!

One very cool thing about running in my Cap shirt is that people recognize it the world over.  It was really cool to see kids’ faces light up as I ran by (don’t worry, I high fived EVERY little kid in Berlin), and it was fun to be recognized on the course.  I did want to represent my country just a little bit at this race, but I’m not too excited with the direction my country is headed politically right now.  I didn’t want to scream “MURICA!” but I did want to say “Hey, I’m American, and we’re not all bigoted, entitled assholes.” The cap shirt was my concession to this, and I think it toed the line really well.  Also: it is always fun (I only got one “on your left” this race and it was from Mike – I live for that particular line, never worry that I’ll get tired of it!).

After seeing my parents at the 27k mark, mentally I was in the home stretch.  I just had to make it to 32, then it would be 10k to the finish – I could do that in my sleep!  I bore down and took it one step at a time.  I used a few other mantras as I went (“I am so grateful to be here.” “Run with joy, run with gratitude.” “Joyful heart, light feet.”), and I ticked down the kilometers as I went.  28. 29.  30!  THIRTY!

32 came, and I was in the last stretch.  My mom took one look at me at Km 32 and said “what’s wrong?”  “I’m hurting, but that’s okay.  I’ll see you at the next one!”  My feet felt like lead, but I did the math and knew that I would make it in under the 6:15 cutoff if I could just keep moving.  I took a few extra walk breaks, but for the most part was able to move.

Oh and move I did.  When I made that last left turn and saw the Brandenburg gate swell before my eyes, I started running and I didn’t stop.  I fist-pumped the air every time someone said “GO CAP!” or “RUN DANIELLE!” (side note: I really need to start registering for races under the name “Dani.”  I only use “Danielle” in professional settings and with people who don’t know me well, and it’s weird to hear people call me that when I’m running… especially when I’m at the end of the race and on the brink of death… it just feels so formal).

I ran under that gate savoring every moment, smiling for the camera people, and keeping my eyes on that finish line.  My parents were there, I cried, I crossed!

And as I crossed I found Mike who had crossed about 6 minutes ahead of me – running himself to about a 20 minute PR.  I was so happy for him!

We got our medals, and headed out the finish chute.  This was the most disorganized finisher’s chute I have ever seen.  We got water, goody bags (but somehow mine had a chocolate croissant and Mike’s didn’t – much to his disappointed surprise when we got home), and had to sniff around to find our post-race ponchos.  We were both in bad shape as we shuffled towards the train station.  We made it all the way to the platform and were giving directions to a nice American lady we met en route when she pointed out that we both had our timing chips on still – UGH.  So we turned back and trudged back to the finish line to return those chips.

I can’t believe we did that. I knew it was going to happen and still we completely spaced on the chip return.  It just wasn’t in our normal post-race routine, and marathon brain is strong.  We handed them to a volunteer, and Mike took a picture of the volunteer with a fistful of chips (from us and others who, like us, had completely spaced on returning them) just in case we ran into a problem in the future.

And we trudged back to the train, this time for good.  We got home where my parents had some pizzas waiting to tide us over, downed the pizzas, then set out for dinner.  Dinner came with an Octoberfest beer larger than my head.

I probably drank too much beer, but damn it was good.

On the whole: this was a great race.  The low-stress start line was greatly appreciated, the sights of the city of Berlin are awesome, and there’s no better way to take in a city than by marathon route.  The disorganized finish and lack of crowd support were a little disappointing for a world major, but what are you going to do? I enjoyed the race, I LOVE the city, and I would run it again if the opportunity arose.  I probably won’t go out of my way to find that opportunity, but I wouldn’t shove my nose up at it.

But now: we recover. For in two weeks’ time we take on another beast: Chicago.

The New York Marathon: The Adventure Continues

When we last left our hero, she was setting out over the Verrazano bridge about to hit the mean streets of Brooklyn.  Everyone who runs the New York Marathon will tell you: Brooklyn is the best part.  You come off of about 2 miles of relative quiet on the bridge, and a wave of sound hits you from the streets.  People are lining the race course, two and three deep, cheering, offering water and candy and high fives, it’s insane and incredible and (seriously) more than I ever could have dreamed of.  The NY Marathon was my fifth marathon, and I’ve run big city marathons before (see: Marine Corps), but never have I spent 26.2 miles running through the world’s longest block party.  And that’s exactly what this race is!

I had a stroke of genius the night before the race and used painter’s tape to spell my dad’s name on his shirt (“Bill”) and my name on mine.  Unfortunately, my fuel belt covered mine in a weird way so a lot of people couldn’t read it (a mistake I will NOT make again!), but my dad’s name was loud and proud.  As a result, all day I heard people shouting “GO BILL!” and my dad, kind soul that he is, would fist pump the air and say “Thank you! Thanks for your support!”

I think we high fived every little kid in Brooklyn.

My Brooklynite cousin met us at mile 5, which was super cool!  She even made us a sign; my first personalized marathon sign!  Thank you, cousin Susanna! At one point, around mile seven, I spotted a sign that said “oysters.”  I pulled over and asked the kindly man standing next to his cooler, “Is this a real thing?” and he said “YES!” and shucked one for both me and my dad.  They were delicious!  I’ve eaten some weird things during marathons, but this was officially my first marathon oyster and it was wonderful.  The salt tasted so good; thank you kindly stranger in Brooklyn!

I do try and study the course before race day, but I have a VERY bad memory for this sort of thing. As a result, I did not realize (until I was in the moment) that literally half the race takes place in Brooklyn.  You touch ground at Staten Island, but then you’re in Brooklyn until you cross the Pulaski Bridge at (literally) the halfway point of the race. We were having a grand old time, enjoying ourselves, trying not to go out too hot, but at a certain moment we realized: Brooklyn is BIG.  Both my dad and I are Manhattanites, and there really isn’t anything quite like running through a place to give you a sense of distance.  Around mile 10 we turned to each other asking “are we in Queens yet?”  No. The answer was no.

As we crossed the bridge, we pulled over to apply some trail toes to a hot spot my dad was developing on the ball of his foot.  He wanted to wait it out, but I insisted that we pause for a moment to address the problem assuring

A view from the bridge….

him that we still had a long way to go and if we could take a minute to fix things now, it would save him a lot of unnecessary suffering later.  This turned out to be a good call; we both escaped the race blister-free and, for the first time at the marathon distance, I finished the race chafe free (and I think we owe a great debt to this particular lube stop).

The day had started to warm up, so I adjusted my layers a bit and we kept rolling.  We got off the bridge in Queens to be greeted by enthusiastic crowds, and one particularly memorable sign a bystander was holding: “Welcome to Queens! Now get out!”

You’re only in Queens for about two miles all told before you run over the 59thstreet bridge into Manhattan.  Here was where my dad hit his first wall (mile 15.5; completely appropriate place for a first-time marathoner), and also where I started crying for the second time in the race.  As we ran over the bridge I thought to myself, “here we go!  Heading home!”

My mom and Mike were set to meet us at mile 16.5-ish, so I knew when we got off the bridge all we had to do was run up first avenue for a bit before we got to see them.  The thing about running up first avenue was that we could just watch the numbers tick by as we continued North, and that was a great motivator.  Also: I lived in the area during my undergrad, so I got to relive some fun memories as I ran through the streets.

We found Mike and my Mom and Mike handed me the nip of Maker’s Mark he had brought for me.  What can I say, we all need something to numb the pain at mile 16!  My dad and I shared the booze, and my mom brought us some choice pieces of Halloween candy to boot.  We kissed them goodbye and told them we’d see them at the finish line.

And onward we went! We pushed North, and as the afternoon got long it cooled off and I readjusted my layers again.  As we continued, people continued to shout my dad’s name all the way uptown.  At about mile 17 some frat boys shouted “Hey Bill, you want some beer!?” and I all but forcibly pulled my dad over and screamed “YES HE DOES!”  My dad took about two sips before I started egging him on to “Chug, chug, chug, chug…” the frat boys took up the call (“Bill!  Bill! Bill!  Bill!”) and that’s how I peer pressured my 61 year-old dad, at mile 17 of his first marathon, to chug some stranger’s beer.

At this point, we were deep in the pain cave.  Both of us had forgotten the cross street upon which the Willis avenue bridge into the Bronx was located (“Is it 125thstreet?” “No, it’s sooner, it’s like 105th…”)… spoilers: it’s 125th.  I think wishful thinking caught up with us a bit.

We did some walking as we took a very brief jaunt into the Bronx.  At about mile 20.5 we took FULL advantage of the Biofreeze stop.  Biofreeze is kind of like icey-hot and comes in both a gel and a spray form.  The spray you can spray on over your clothes and, as long as you saturate the material, it will take effect.  Since I was wearing knee high compression socks, I opted for the spray.  The kindly Biofreeze employee manning the stop asked me “Where does it hurt?” to which I could only respond “everywhere.  Please draw me a bath of Biofreeze.”  The look on his face was somewhere between horror and pity.

Thoroughly sprayed down, we both felt a little more invigorated and ran out a few intervals as we crossed over the Madison avenue bridge.  There, we saw my second favorite sign of the day “Last Damn Bridge.” Also, a hat tip goes out to the guy with the megaphone who said things like “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay in the Bronx.”

We crossed back into Manhattan and fifth avenue lay out before us.  To make the scene even more gorgeous, the sun was starting to set. It was incredible.  We were both struggling at this point and, to be honest, the last 10K of this race was a LOT of walking.  At around mile 22 I began to question if I had ANY run left in me (the last 10K of 2 marathons is VERY different from the last 10K of a single marathon, by the way).  My dad, being the enterprising spirit that he is, mentioned “Hey, we don’t have to run 90/30 intervals.  We could also run 1 minute on/1 minute off.”  So that’s what we did for as long as we could.

We crossed back into Central park, took a hard right turn on 59thstreet, then another hard right turn at Central Park West.  From here on in, it was just a matter of keeping the spirit high.

Mom and Mike were in the West Side Grandstand (thank you, NYRR, for those incredible passes!) and met us just before the finish line.  We gave them big kisses, then crossed the finish hand in hand.  I cried a third time accepting my medal from the volunteer who met me at the finish line of the New York City marathon.

The finish chute is LONG. By the time we crossed the finish line, it was dark.  I was very cold.  The mylar heat sheet that a volunteer draped over my

Just the world’s most EPIC finish line!

shoulders the minute I had my medal helped, but I was starting to wonder if we would ever find our ponchos and the exit.  We were handed recovery bags: plastic drawstring bags with an apple, a water, a Gatorade, a protein shake, pretzels, and a protein bar.  We had both chosen to receive ponchos instead of check a bag, and I was so grateful for them.  The ponchos aren’t available until the very end of the finish chute, about a mile from the finish line, but they are worth the walk.  When the volunteer draped my poncho over my shoulders, it was the softest and fleeciest blanket the world has ever known.  I was warm, for the first time in about 5 miles, and I was happy.

We were able to exit the finish chute at around 69thstreet.  We walked West one block to Columbus to meet Mike and my Mom and took an Uber back to our apartment.

The finish achieved, we ordered celebratory Chinese food and regaled each other with tales of the day. But, as everyone who has run a marathon knows, the finish line is not the end of the journey.  Stay tuned for my next installment in this NY Marathon series: post-race and recovery.

Before the Beginning: Starting the New York Marathon

The New York Marathon:

Where do I even begin with this one?  When I started seriously running, I knew it was the one race I NEEDED to do. New York is my hometown; I grew up here.  These streets are filled with amazing memories, and never did I EVER think I would see the marathon as anything but a terminal inconvenience.  When I knew that I had the marathon in me, I set my sights on the streets of my hometown.  I spent two years dreaming of this race; one year making it happen, then a year waiting for race day.

I got into the race using New York Road Runner’s 9+1 program.  It’s a great accessible way to get a guaranteed entry into NY if you’re living anywhere near the city (and I was in Boston at the time).  It also meant I got to go home and see my family nine times in a year, something I desperately needed to do and was notoriously bad at finding time for.

About a third of the way through the year of my 9+1, my sixty-year-old father decided that this was something he’d be interested in too.  He had never been a runner before, but when you have a type A personality and someone presents a series of boxes to check which will help you hit a monumental goal it’s difficult to resist.  He qualified, the entire time saying that he didn’t think he could run the marathon, wasn’t in shape to run the marathon, wouldn’t register for the marathon, etc.  I nodded, knowing him too well to fall for this, and knowing that there was a 95% chance that he’d be joining me in Staten Island on race day.

Mike, who had also qualified with the 9+1, unfortunately fell victim to an injury this year.  He made the difficult decision to defer the race until next year.

About three weeks before I left for New York, an amazing thing happened.  I had entered the Runner’s World New York marathon sweepstakes (I tend to enter a lot of things online that would be cool because, well, you never know) and… I won!  Runner’s world provided round trip airfare, two nights in a hotel, two tickets to the West Side Grandstand for Race day, two tickets to the VIP Blue lounge, and an awesome swag package.  How amazing! I was very grateful for this because it meant that Mike (and my Mom) would have somewhere temperature controlled to hang out on race day, and could see us cross the finish line!  The swag package was amazing, so amazing that it deserves its own post (and will get one next week).  Long story short: you really do never know.  Someone has to win!

Most exciting ferry ride!

Back to the logistics of marathon morning: we were in wave four, which was due to step off at 11 AM. I had read online about nightmares getting to the start of this race.  You start in Staten Island and, due to road closures and the geography of NYC, you basically have two options: take a NYRR bus from midtown to the start, or take the Staten Island ferry and then a NYRR bus from the ferry to the start village.  We opted for the ferry because the midtown bus left REALLY early, and we just didn’t need to be in the start village that long.  We originally signed up for the 8:45 AM ferry, but after monitoring the transportation situation online I decided that we should go earlier than that.  We got to the South Ferry terminal just before 7 and caught the 7AM boat to Staten Island.

The ferry ride is always fun, and I love seeing the statue of liberty on the way by.  The boat was, of course, packed with runners (who else would be on the ferry at 7AM on Marathon Sunday?), so we all wound up chatting about the races we had done, how to get into the world majors, etc.  It was a nice way to start the morning with lots of comradery as we hung out in our throw away clothes, chilling on the way to the start line.

The day turned out to be perfect weather for a race.  Mid to high fifties, never dipped below 47 (even in the wee hours of the morning).  I still wore a full suit of throw away sweats, and did not regret it since Staten Island was windy, but I was nice and toasty warm inside my donation clothes.

Once we reached Staten Island, we waited about 30 minutes for a bus to the start.  The bus ride took longer than anticipated due to traffic, but since we had left ourselves plenty of time we didn’t mind.  It was 9AM when we set foot inside the start village, but it took us another 15 minutes to walk from security at the front all the way back to the green village.  The New York marathon start is divided into four waves, each wave having three colors: orange, blue, and green.  Your color designates your start village (basically which section of the runner’s village you should hang out in to most easily access your corral).  Blue and orange run over the top of the Verrazano, and green runs under the bottom.  I was in orange, my dad was in green.  You can always bump back to run with other runners, so I wound up running in the green village with him.  An important note: blue and orange take a separate course for the first 4 miles or so and only later join up with green (due to how traffic gets diverted on and off the bridge).  If you’re running with someone in another color, start with them; don’t assume you’ll catch them after the bridge.  You probably won’t, there’s just too many people.

In the starting village, there are therapy dogs wandering around who will happily pose for pictures and scritches (this was a great part of my morning!).  There’s also port-a-potties everywhere, multiple banks in each start village.  Don’t just use the first one you see; I guarantee there will be more at the back of the village (and they’ll probably be cleaner).  There are also food tables at each start village (Dunkin Donuts coffee, bagels, bananas, and water).  Again, don’t feel like you have to stop at the first food

making friends in Staten Island. Angel was an amazing therapy doggy!

table you see; there will be more towards the back.  Announcements in the start village are made in five languages, which is really cool, and helped us to get into the feel of a global event.  It is a MASSIVE race; 55,000 runners; and that start village really makes you feel the gravity of this.

You’re only allowed to bring things to the start village that fit into a clear plastic bag which you’re given when you get your race bib.  We took a nice squishy cheap yoga mat we found at BJs, cut it in half, then folded it up and each stuffed half into our bags.  This was awesome for lounging around at the start; we just put the mats down and had something dry and cushiony to sit on.  We actually wound up laying down for a while as we waited for our start.

One other pre-race thing you’ll want to consider: you have the option of checking a bag for the finish line, or receiving a fleecy wonderful poncho.  We opted for the poncho, and I would HIGHLY recommend this option to anyone. Your walk-off will be shorter after the race, you’ll have one less thing to lug with you to the start on race day, and you’ll have the snuggliest warmest poncho in the world for your troubles.

Soon enough, it was time to load up into our corral.  We swung around and headed out, wading through the bins of donation clothing on our way and stripping our own throw-away sweats off.  At the start of every wave, they play Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” and I couldn’t help but cry my eyes out as I watched the runners in front of us make their way past the starting gate.  I was so excited to begin this epic journey, and could not believe I had finally made it here to the starting line.

We ran across the Verrazano trying not to take it out of the gate too hot. People say that this marathon is “hilly” and “challenging,” but honestly the “hills” didn’t feel too terrible (at least, not until the very end… but I’ll get into that later).  Yes, you do run a gentle incline for the first mile as you run over the bridge, and yes you do come out with a new appreciation for how long those bridges actually are, but honestly I was just so excited to be running the New York Marathon that I didn’t think much of it on this first bridge. So there we were, making our way into the streets of Brooklyn, ready for our big adventure.

Stay tuned for my next installment in this blog series.  The New York Marathon is just too epic of an experience to crush into one measly post.

Marine Corps Marathon 2018

A quick check-in from the road: this year, I’m attempting back to back marathons.  Marine Corps was on 10/28.  Then, a week from that day, I’m running my bucket list race: the New York Marathon.

At the start; go for launch

Marine Corps was, as it always is, an amazing experience.  The weather was perfect for marathon running (fifties, no humidity, not too much sun, just a touch of wind).  The start was warm enough that our throw-aways were perfect to keep us toasty right until gun time.

I can’t tell you how much I love this race.  Running in downtown DC is magical, and the Marines put on a spectacular event.  Not only is the scenery gorgeous, but the course is flat flat flat once you get through a few hills in the beginning. Really, it’s an ideal race for beginners and vets alike.

My day went spectacularly. I ran smooth, clean splits and left some in the tank for New York.

Now?  It’s all about the recovery.  The day after the race I did a LOT of gentle walking to keep blood-flow to my legs.  I’m eating ample protein and

Finishing strong!

vegetables, taking in carbs and calories (and trying to keep it as clean as I can).  I’m drinking water like a fish.  I’m stretching my muscles.  Tomorrow, I’m getting a professional massage.

And now we level our gaze at marathon number two: my hometown race, New York City.  I have been PUMPED for this race since we completed the 9+1 last year punching our ticket to the marathon.  What’s even better is that my dad is running with me – his first marathon!  This race could not get more exciting.

Signing off for now, as I have to catch a flight, but I’ll keep you posted about my adventures in NYC.

2018 Crossfit Open

This Saturday, I executed 18.5 and completed my run of the 2018 CrossFit Open.

18.5; seven minutes in heaven

The open didn’t go the way I had fully expected this year. Last year, I was able to Rx two workouts. This year, I scaled all of them. The choice to scale came largely from the sheer number of advanced skills that these workouts tests; there was a very different feel to the open this year. Director of the games Dave Castro has shifted things around in both format of workouts and types of tests that he’s throwing at the CrossFit community. As the Open field grows, we’re just going to see more and more separators, more and more technical workouts, and more and more difficulty. And you know what? I think that’s great.

Once I got over my initial disappointment with not being able to Rx anything this year, I surprised the heck out of myself with my performance. I had solid showings on all of these workouts. I didn’t really discover weaknesses in my game so much as highlight things I already knew: 18.1 was a wheelhouse workout for me (though it did further reinforce how very much I want to progress my toes to bar). 18.2 really showed me how much I need to work on my engine, while 18.2A showed me that I’m incredibly incredibly strong. 18.3 taught me that my pull-ups have really come along since last year. 18.4 played right into my strengths, and cemented my desire to achieve handstand pushups. 18.5 again highlighted engine training as a priority for this year, and provided further impetus to work on my pull-ups so I can advance to the chest to bar variety.

This year, for the first time, I was able to contemplate strategy as an athlete.

deadlifts for 18.4

In prior years, I would simply attack open workouts with everything I had, hoping that it would be enough to just be able to bear down and hang on. This year, I put some serious thought into every aspect of each workout and used that thought to fuel how I approached each movement. This made a huge difference in my composure and ability to mentally tackle the tasks put before me, and simultaneously displayed my growth as an athlete. This year, I felt more polished and professional going into things; I felt like I knew what I was doing. This feeling, in conjunction with sporting events, is basically a new sensation for me. Having lived my life as a generally unathletic human, it’s pretty cool when I can walk into athletics feeling cool, calm, composed, and like I know stuff about stuff.

This year, also for the first time, I traveled during the CrossFit open and completed a workout (18.5) at a box that wasn’t my home box. This was really cool because it gave me the opportunity to connect with a greater CrossFit community at what’s basically the most special time of year for us devotees of the CrossFit cult. That sense of connection is one of the reasons I love CrossFit; you can be anywhere in the world, but Open Thursdays at 8PM EST are exciting in ways that only CrossFit athletes understand.

The Open always gives me something to reach for in the next year, while simultaneously giving me reasons to be proud. It’s an incredible bench marker, and I really cannot wait to see what 19.1 has in store for us. Between now and then, I’m going to be working hard as ever chasing pull-ups, dubs, and toes to bar (with the off chance that some HSPUs will sneak in there somewhere). I’m thrilled to have completed the 2018 Open so successfully, and I can’t wait for the next test.

How did the open go for you?

Spartan Race Recap: Greek Peak

This weekend, I participated in my first Winter Spartan Race at Greek Peak. It was Sprint distance up and down the ski slope for about four miles, and is the first race of my 2018 season (which is pretty exciting!).

Having done a lot of Spartans, I was pretty sure I knew what to expect. The obstacle list wasn’t intimidating; the only factor that I had to account for was dressing for cold instead of heat. The weather this year was pretty perfect, a balmy 30ish degrees with wind and light snow. I layered up (including an oversized red windbreaking coat on the outer layer which basically made me look like the stay pufft marshmallow man), wore some thick socks under my trail shoes, and got to it.

The race is held on Greek Peak ski resort and that had some nice amenities (including a warm lodge in which to hang out before the start of the race). We got VIP parking for this run because I had read on the Internet that regular Spartan parking was a significant distance from the site (they shuttle you on a cheese bus back and forth to the lots). Even with VIP parking, it was about a five-minute walk from our car to check-in. Definitely worth the extra $20.

Usual Spartan gear check was in an uncovered area outside, so if you plan to do this race make sure your gear bag is weatherproof. It snowed off and on all day, not quite enough to accumulate inches of snow on the bags, but definitely enough to moisten unprepared gear. The starting village was pretty much exactly what I expected at a Spartan – your usual tents and warm-up areas (with, of course, the exception mentioned above; access to the lodge also meant that there were real flushing toilets and a real place to wash your hands with real soap before/after the race which is HUGE).

The start line was extra slippery for whatever reason, and as we got loaded

Very Puffy Coat

into the pen there was a great deal of sliding around trying to find footing. While the regular pump speech was used, they (thankfully) did not make us take a knee (I think the entire assembly would have back-slid down the steep incline into the four foot wall you have to jump to get into the start corral).

The big difference between this Spartan and your regular run-of-the-mill Spartan was the terrain. It was ICEY. The trails were slippery. On the downhills, it was basically sit on your butt and slide down. Uphills were a matter of finding the firmest footing (usually towards the outside of the trail where the snow hadn’t been packed down quite as much).

There was one insane hill right at the start before we wound around and through some more moderate trails.   It was a touch muddy, but if you’re used to Spartan mud then this was basically nothing (though I was extra careful about getting my feet wet because I could not fathom doing three miles in the snow with wet feet). There were two stream crossings on wooden boards, but with careful steps you could prevent wet trail shoes (definitely wear your trail shoes – you’ll need the traction). A few more insane up/downhills appeared over the course of things, but nothing unreasonable. On the whole I’d say this is a pretty fairly lain course with less elevation than the average Spartan is used to.

The Bucket Brigade was the only obstacle that I found significantly different on this race from others. Rather than the usual fill your bucket at the mountain of gravel, the buckets were pre-filled with a lid. Picking up the bucket, I was pleasantly surprised to discover how supremely light it was when compared with basically any other Spartan bucket carry I’ve ever done. To make things even easier, the lid provided an extra layer of comfort. Flipping the bucket upside down, I was able to hold on to the extra lip provided by the lid and found my fingers to be much more comfortable than the usual dig in with your fingers strategy I use. I only broke the bucket carry once (and probably could have done it unbroken if I had pushed a little).

The snow, ice, and slidey mud does add an extra layer of complication to wall-style obstacles. The seven-foot wall and Olympus in particular were so slippery that I had safety concerns about trying them. I did some burpees and moved on.

The Atlas carry was an obstacle that I did not expect to be as ridiculous as it was. After a day of being rolled around in the mud (people, you’re supposed to carry the heavy stone, not roll it from one place to another!), the stones had layers upon layers of caked on ground substrate. They looked like natural boulders rather than Atlas stones, and were extra heavy. On top of that, the ground being soft meant you had no purchase to push off against when you went to pick them up. Strength obstacles are usually where I thrive, so I was surprised that it took me so long to find the right footing to pick up the stone. Still, it got done.

 

I was grateful that I had packed some hand warmers in my pockets. The atlas carry was so muddy that it soaked my gloves with cold water and my hands were frigid by the time I was done. I think if I hadn’t had fresh hand warmers in my pocket to re-warm them, it might have been a DNF for me for fear of frostbitten paws.

The rope climb was also extra spicy; it was nearly impossible to get a good lock on the rope with your feet due to cold/frozen mud and wet ropes. Everyone I saw complete this obstacle basically did their climb legless (which is pretty amazing if you ask me!) I usually have a solid rope climb, but I couldn’t get a grip on the ropes. Since I didn’t trust any lock I could find even at the ground level, I opted for burpees rather than risk a safety hazard dangling ten feet in the air.

There were two water stops on the course – one just before the first mile, and one right after the third mile. This was enough, but just barely for me. About 500 meters before the second water stop, I was so thirsty that I was contemplating eating a fistful of snow just to get some H2O in my system. This was also the first time I’ve ever given myself brain freeze with nothing but water. Go figure; water gets cold when left out in the freezing elements.

When the course map was released and I saw “Snow Dunk Tank” as one of the last obstacles, I freaked out a little bit. Spartan wouldn’t make participants submerge in freezing cold water and then risk hypothermia… right? I wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t. Turns out, the “Snow Dunk Tank” was just the usual wall that goes into the dunk tank, but with snow underneath. You basically just roll under the wall in the snow then jump the fire. And it was a BIG fire! Very satisfying at the end of a cold race!

Jumping the Fire!

I was pleasantly surprised to see long sleeve tech shirts at the finish (gender specific sizing, though the ladies’ shirts are ridiculously small – I grabbed an XXL), and the free beer was Fat Tire! This is seriously the first time I’ve gotten free beer from a Spartan race that I would actually drink! Thanks for that, Spartan, and not cheesing the free beer tickets with your usual swill.

In sum: it was a great day on the mountain. I’ll take a winter Sprint over a summer Sprint any day (though of course the weather could either cooperate – as it did this year; or not – as it did last year). Aroo!