Boston

A week and a half ago, I took a trip back east for Boston. I wasn't actually running Boston, I just really wanted to be there.

I got to see my family, my friends, my old coach, and (more importantly) my two German Shepherds. As much as I'd love to write all of you an elaborate explanation of how absolutely adorable Bowzer is and how I could squeeze his giant head all day if only Yoshi (who is also cute) weren't so goddamn jealous all the time, or how awesome my mom's birthday dinner was, this is a running blog, so I'll spare you the details. Reluctantly.

But here's a picture of Bowzer anyways

Everyone knows about the Boston Marathon, but far fewer know about the B.A.A. 5K which is run the same weekend. It always has an awesome elite field. Since Providence is my hometown, I'm a huge Molly Huddle and Kim Smith fan. Amy Hastings, too, but I'd be lying if I said I followed her as much as I follow the other two. Kim Smith won in 2013, but wasn't in the field this year. Molly Huddle was third in 2013, and she was running. So the Lil' Rhody Running Nerd in me was pretty excited.

I was obviously not in the elite field. I was seeded 346 out of almost 10,000 runners. And I was nervous.

Hence arranging all of my stuff the night before into neat little piles

My teammate Valerie was with me, which made me a little less nervous. We took our time getting over to the start ten minutes early, figuring we'd have time for some strides before making our ways into the seeded corrals. But the race wasn't really organized at all and the corrals weren't seeded and our numbers weren't used for anything. When we tried to get up slightly in front of the 6:00 pace sign, someone with a number in the 2000s actually yelled at us. I tried to explain that the numbers were in order and we were trying to run 5:55 pace and the girl (whose number was in the 5000s) just made a sarcastic comment. So we ignored them and tried to get up a little further before we encountered a wall of runners. At that point we settled for somewhere closer to the 7:00 sign. Whatever.

When the gun went off, nobody around us was actually running that pace either, so we spent the first mile weaving around people who had been dishonest about their times to a slow (for us) 6:07. Valerie stayed calm. Smart girl. I, on the other hand, totally panicked and hammered an all-out second mile. And then I was done. I dragged my burning legs slowly to the finish as Valerie ran right on by. I couldn't really feel too upset by my time because I was too busy laughing at myself.

So the race didn't go so well for me. But it did for Molly Huddle, who won and tied the course record. Providence represent!

My race was followed by this:

And this:

And finally this:

As I found myself a spectator of my own sport. I dyed my hair orange with that cheap spray stuff, photographed every elite who ran by, and went nuts for my teammates. At mile twenty where I was standing, between the Newton hills and Heartbreak, most of them looked like they wanted to die, which honestly made it a pretty fun place to watch from. The crowds were going nuts and the lady next to me wouldn't stop blowing her stupid horn in my ear. Boston loves its sports. All of its sports. Including its marathon.

So I witnessed the end of the American drought. I saw some damn fast elite runners. I got to cheer for and photograph my friends and teammates. I even got to do a little run-reporting, the result of which is on my club's website.

It was pretty much the best weekend ever.

Lemonade

This season has been quite the roller coaster. I've had some of the best workouts of my life, but I've also had minor setback after minor setback. I think my boy Obi Wan totally nails what bounce back feels like:

Lately, though, I've been playing around with optimism. It's new to me. I hate getting hurt, I hate getting sick, I hate having to run fifty-four miles instead of the seventy-five I'd planned for the week or having to hit 6:50 pace instead of 6:40 pace or whatever. So when I woke up on Thursday and my big toe hurt so much it was hard to walk, I was surprised I didn't freak out.

Oh, I went through the standard denial stage, laced up my running shoes, headed out the door, and spent four minutes and thirty seconds arguing with myself over whether or not it made sense to continue my planned ten mile run. And then I was like, "wait a second, why?" What would this run do for me that eighty minutes of cross-training wouldn't? And if I hurt myself more, wouldn't I be pretty pissed if I couldn't run the B.A.A 5K? If I back off now, I might be fine by Saturday.

So I jogged back to my apartment, changed into a short-sleeved running shirt, and hopped on the elliptical in my apartment's tiny gym. It was a new elliptical. And it was Satan's very own elliptical, straight out of hell, the most evil elliptical I have ever laid eyes on. On the lowest resistance, at the lowest height, my heart rate was over 160, which was not sustainable for eighty minutes and not good for a Thursday. So I switched over to the bike. But the bike was also new. And it was a recumbent bike. And I couldn't get my heart rate over 110 on it. So I went back and forth and back and forth wondering what the hell my apartment manager was thinking switching out totally good machines for Hell's Gym. For eighty minutes.

The next day, I decided to make lemonade. I signed up for a free spin class at Flywheel. It'd be fun and different!

I showed up totally clueless and the instructor showed me how to get on the bike and adjusted it to my height. It was a 45 minute "endurance" ride, although in retrospect it was more like an interval workout, and I'm not sure where the "endurance" part comes from. But I digress. It was definitely a good workout.

Probably a little too good. I'm not supposed to work hard on Fridays. But in a dark spinning studio with a super intense guy next to you decked out in full cycling gear and dance music blasting at 180 BPM and some lady telling you what resistance and RPM to hit and the Torq Board, the goddamn Torq Board, it's a little hard not to get carried away. The Torq Board is a leaderboard that lists your "power" which, from what I can tell, is pretty much a made up number based on your RPM and resistance. So basically, it encourages everyone to hammer the workout and race the whole thing rather than actually listening to the instructor.

I signed up to have my pseudonym (HurtRunner) show up on that board. Terrible idea. I followed the workout exactly, hitting the max RPM and resistance recommended by the instructor each time, and I was still behind three other girls and seven guys! Afterward, I got to see all of the arbitrary stats about my workout in my profile:

Whatever the hell any of this means...

It was fun, though. It really was. If I had to do it again I'd keep my name off the board and take it easier, because I worked way too hard for a Friday. During Saturday's long tempo my glutes and hammies were screaming at me the whole time. A great replacement for a Wednesday or Saturday workout, for sure, but not for a Friday easy run.

And now I'm running again :)