Summer Fun - Floating the Buffalo River

Ask a native Arkansan what to do in Arkansas in the summer time and inevitably, one of the top answers will be "float the Buffalo!" The Buffalo River is the nation's first National River and a true outdoor treasure. According to the National Park Service, it is one of the few remaining undammed rivers in the lower 48 states, and lures locals and travelers alike to its shores.

Similar to hiking Mt. Kessler, floating the Buffalo has been something I've thought, "we should do that!" since the first time I heard about it. Unlike our local adventure, though, floating takes a bit of planning, and also felt like something that would be more fun when the kids were a little bit older.

With Shauna's departure for her year long adventure in the UK looming, we finally picked a date and decided to go do it! In preparation, I googled "floating the Buffalo River" six ways to Sunday. I found plenty of information on types of floats and outfitters. There were enough sites with water levels to get an idea of where we were in the season. Strangely, though, there wasn't a single place that spoke to a novice like me; a rookie who wanted to take kids down the river but didn't own a watercraft or have really any floating experience at all.

There are so many options - canoes, kayaks, inflatable boats, inner tubes. Two hour, half day, overnight trips. In and out, camping, cabins. I thought it was as simple as - go float! Given our inexperience, we chose to go with the shortish float via canoe, since the three adults at least had experience wielding a paddle. With no specific checklists, we figured we were all set with the reservations and the start time for our planned 3-4 hour float.

Irene, Caroline and John ready to float

That Saturday morning dawned sunny, hot and seemingly perfect for a day on the river. The six of us piled in the van and headed east toward the Buffalo River Outfitters. It's a beautiful drive, but it was a bit farther than expected, and by the time we got there we were cutting it close for the mid-distance float. As we hadn't eaten our lunch yet, we had to instead opt for the 2-3 hour float so that we could have our picnic lunch before heading out. Lunch done, kids' swimsuits on, all we had to do now was wait for the shuttle to get us down to the launch site!

Despite having hats and sunscreen, we were missing some of the more critical equipment. For those rookies like me who've never floated before and can't really find the easy answer, here's what I wish I'd known to bring when I was planning our first trip:

• A cooler - not only will you want water (or other drinks) while you're out on the river with no shade, it provides a third seat for the non-paddler in the canoe.
• Bungee cords - said cooler has to be securely tied to the watercraft.
• Koozies - you can't have any drinks on the river that aren't in something that floats. I love knowing that we're doing everything we can to keep the river clean, and a koozie around a water bottle is a small price to pay to help do that.

At this point, we were blissfully ignorant and just happy to be at the water's edge. My big surprise when arriving at the launch point was how many people were on the river! I knew it was popular, but I'd not mentally connected the dots to realize it was a steady flow of people in canoes, kayaks, tubes, and sometimes just swimming by, enjoying the cool water on a hot summer day. We watched the other floaters, waited for our outfitters to get the canoes to the water's edge, and took a few pictures in the sun.

We managed to get into the canoes and launch into the river, and immediately, I realized - this isn't as easy as it looks!! Shauna and I were in a canoe together with John; Justin had Caroline and Irene with him. Despite having two-adult-power in our canoe, we managed to get turned entirely around, floating backwards right at the start. Good grief!! With a little bit of laughter and a good bit of upper body strength, we got turned around properly and began floating down the Buffalo. We were off - we were floating!

It didn't take long to realize it was much hotter on the water and in the sun than I had expected. I was very grateful for my hat and sunglasses, but without water to drink and in regular outdoor clothes with sneakers, I was stuck in the canoe without a lot of options for cooling off. Thankfully, we'd put the kids in their swimsuits, and we soon realized one of the best parts of floating is stopping along the way to cool off and swim in the river. After an hour or so of paddling, we parked the canoes on the shore and watched the kids dive into the cool, clear water of the river.

Seeing the kids cooling off in the water made me wish that I had worn a swimsuit, too. Back to those checklists - I had figured out what equipment we were missing; now I knew what the attire checklist should've been:

• Swimsuit - getting into the water would've been amazing given how hot it was that day. I was pretty close to getting in fully dressed, but it would've been a long ride home in wet clothes.
• Sandals (though the old sneakers did work, as long as you don't mind squishy shoes) - you definitely can't go barefoot. The bottom of the river is straight up river rock, not sand, and would be pretty painful to walk on without shoes.
• Dry clothes to change into upon returning to the car for the drive home. Nobody wants to drive three hours in a swimsuit that's spent time in the river.

The kids had so much fun; they're still at the age that their laughter rings clear and true, no pretense or worry about what others think as they play and have fun. I so often say we're at the sweet spot with our kids - they're the age where they can do so much for themselves, and at times like this, they can go off a bit on their own without a parent having to be within arms' reach. Their budding independence is an affirmation that we're somehow navigating this parenting thing okay.

We were about an hour and a half into the float at this point, and I was desperately thirsty; I can't emphasize enough how big of a miss it was not to have brought a cooler and drinks. Lesson certainly learned. We herded the kids back into the canoes, and switched places so that Justin would have help with the paddling. That's when I realized how little help was going to come from the kids! I watched Justin and Shauna float farther and farther ahead as I worked to navigate under one and a half oar power!

There were places where the river ran faster than others, and I was glad that we hadn't come earlier in the season when the water was higher. We did run into a few places where the canoes scraped the bottom, but I think all in all, the water level was perfect for our first time on the river.

As I began to think we were going to be hard pressed to make it all the way to the end, there we were - the outfitters were on the banks waiting for us to pull our canoes up out of the water and head back in the shuttle. The float actually lasted just a bit under two hours; the lesson I learned this first time out is that the variability in the time for a float comes from how much time you spend out of the canoe, as well as how vigorously you paddle. If you know me, you know I'm not much one for passive outdoor activity; it wasn't a race, but I was still going to put some muscle into it! If you'd asked me at the beginning whether an under-two-hour float would be just right, I would've rolled my eyes and suggested the much longer one. Given our lack of preparation, though, it was a good thing we only spent that amount of time on the river.

With my first trip under my belt, here's what I'll know next time:

• Consider an overnight trip - it's a far enough drive that out and back is a little bit taxing. Going the day before to get an early start on the river would help not just with the heat, but with the crowds, too.
• Relax a little bit - it isn't a race down the river. The views are incredible, and the people watching is entertaining, too.
• Figure out a way to waterproof a camera - it is a stunning landscape to which my pictures just can't do justice. Along the way we saw a bald eagle, too - it isn't just the bluffs and the trees overhanging the river that inspire.
• The different types of watercraft all make for a different experience
• The canoes were perfect for our family trip with kids our age. They're a way to make it a group activity, because it requires cooperation and teamwork to get going in the right direction.
• The kayaks I saw were often loaded with camping equipment - so I think kayaking would be an amazing way to do a multiday camp/float trip. Those were the people I looked on as adventurers. A day trip on a kayak, too, seems to me like a more solitary, individual float, but perfect for a day of reflection and peace.
• Inner tubes - now those are the people there for a party! What fun to bump along down the river, drifting in and out of a group of friends, hanging your toes in the water and swimming as much as you float.
• While we didn't see any of the inflatable boats because the water level was too low, I think that would be a wonderful multi-family float option. I hope to try that together with Shauna, Andy and Irene someday to see if we can navigate the higher, faster water earlier in the spring or summer.

There definitely will be a next time - in fact, I hope there are next times. The Buffalo is a gift, as are the number of other beautiful rivers you can float here in Arkansas. It's the time together, though, that is truly priceless.

Race Report: Spectator Edition!

This is one I never expected to write - my experience at a race from the sidelines. Thanks to the stress fracture in my foot my quest for Maniac Gold was cut short, but I chose to still go to Raleigh, because the weekend was about much more than running a marathon.

Having said that, it was still a weekend about running, because eleven of my classmates were lacing up on Sunday morning for either the half marathon or the full, and I decided that this was my big opportunity to set a P.R. in ringing my cowbell!!

Extra bonus: Julie, my dear friend and roommate from my first two years at West Point, joined us in Raleigh as a non-runner, too, and having seen each other exactly one time since the day after graduation 17 years ago, it was an awesome opportunity to just hang out for a few hours and enjoy being together again.

The first thing I learned about being a proper spectator at a race: it takes serious preparation. Before I headed to Raleigh, I got as far as making enlarged copies of everyone's Firstie pictures from the Howitzer. My plan was to make a sign for everyone, so I spent 30 minutes at the copier giggling at how hilariously funny I am!

Unfortunately, that was about it for preparation. Oh, wait, I also remembered to grab Sharpies and glue sticks to take with me, and my two cowbells. Okay, now I've covered it. That was it for my preparation.

Fast forward to Saturday night, and Julie and I are in the hotel room talking and talking and talking and... then it was midnight, and I realized we hadn't made the signs yet! Spectator Fail #1: staying up until 1:30 in the morning because you haven't done the signs!!! Of course, in trying to figure what to write on the signs that was just the right balance of funny and motivational without being the corny, overused race sign cliches, we realized that is also harder than you would think it is. Luckily, at 1AM, everything is funny, so we managed to finish them up, turn off the lights, and get some sleep ahead of the big day.

Sunday morning, briiiiiiight and early - race day!!! We had planned to meet in the lobby with the whole group to get a group photo, but dang y'all, 6:00 is early. We didn't get the whole group together, but I managed Race Day Spectator Success #1: I was there, on time, with my camera!

We got some great shots of the group, showed them the awesomely hilarious race signs we made, and then the runners made their way to the start line while Julie and I hung out for a bit longer in the hotel lobby. As luck would have it, we randomly ran into another classmate and his wife who were down for the race. Winning! Definitely have to get a photo - and then not long after that, Spectator Fail #2: I inadvertently deleted the picture from the camera. DOH. Sorry, Kelly and Pete!!!!

The rest of the girls showed up, we took our last photos, even got face tattoos (Go Army!), and then... then we realized that the glue stick we used had apparently been in my desk drawer since the last time Julie and I had seen each other twelve years prior, because the pictures starting peeling off the signs. No need to panic - the front desk had tape! Problem solved, signs ready to go, and we were out the door to the start line.

There is nothing like the energy of a big race at the start line. Raleigh had over 12,500 runners between the half marathon and the full 26.2 distance, and the air was electric. With friends in lots of different corrals, I did my best to find them, and managed to capture a little bit of the fun of anticipation:

It was also my first time seeing the actual start of the race from the vantage point of a spectator, and that was really, really fun. As a runner, I definitely feed off the vibes from the crowd, and am always so thankful for those who line the streets to yell words of encouragement and make noise for the competitors. But there is an energy for those of us on the sidelines, too, and the cheering from one person to the next builds and builds throughout the crowd until it's a veritable frenzy of positive energy. What I've never appreciated before Raleigh, though, was how hard it is to pick our your friends in the crowd of a huge race. Even with the corrals releasing with time between, we only saw a couple of the folks we were looking for, so after getting our first cowbell ringing in, we decided to get going.

The plan: hop in the car, get out on the course, and find our friends on various points along the way so that we could cheer and take pictures.

Spectator Fail #3: we were parked at a point that made it impossible to get outside of the course.

It had never crossed my mind that we should look at the map ahead of time, pick specific spots to park and cheer along the route, and know at about what time we should be at each spot. Lesson learned (the hard way)! We had gotten in the car, of course, and didn't figure out that we were stuck until we'd driven in circles for about 30 minutes. At that point, we couldn't even get back to the hotel without risking missing our friends along the way - some of those ladies are wicked fast - so we parked and started hiking to where we thought we could catch a glimpse of the runners. We got LUCKY - we did see two of the women, but Spectator Fail #4: I got so excited to see Christie and Heather I forgot to take pictures!!! DOH!!!

At least we rang the cowbells, though, and I think we managed to grab the right posters for each of them. Of course, at this point Julie and I had driven in circles; rang the cowbell; missed breakfast; and had no coffee. Eesh. Coffee - that was a priority at this point. Thank the good Lord it was a beautiful day, and Raleigh is a beautiful city, so other than my broken foot, it was the perfect morning for a stroll around downtown. We turned a corner to head back toward the finish to make sure we didn't miss our fastest friends and found... *insert choirs of angels singing here*...

KRISPY KREME!!! Spectator Success #2: we had coffee and donuts in the down time between seeing friends on the course. And based on the line, I think that particular Krispy Kreme location had record sales that Sunday morning!!

We were on a roll at this point - we had our coffee, we were headed back to the finish line, and the timing was excellent. We got to see the fastest of the fast - which included Jim, the intrepid husband of our classmate Heather, who had so graciously welcomed us into his home and been the uncomplaining photographer for all of our group photos.

Turns out, dude has some WHEELS.

1:35:59 - in top 1% of finishers!!

Julie and I kept our eyes peeled, and it wasn't long until Julie ran by, then Heather:

Julie ran a 1:50:09 and Heather a 1:53:26... smokin' fast...

At this point, even as a spectator, I was hot and thirsty. Spectator Fail #5: I hadn't brought any water out on the course with me. I didn't account for the fact that I would be on my feet as long, or longer, than the runners, and there are no aid station for the cowbell ringers! 

Lucky for us, spectating didn't require going up and down all of those hills - we had driven part of the course the night before, and I had looked at the elevation chart, and I knew this was a tough one. Tougher, I think, than the Hogeye Marathon I had run a couple of weeks before. Throw in the temperatures approaching the high 70's, and it was a very tough day on the course.

After Julie and Heather ran by, the finishers began to come fast and furious. Julie and I yelled and rang the cowbell for as many as we could, knowing that this last corner to turn toward the finish line came at the top of yet another hill, and it was getting hotter and tougher out there for all of the competitors.

Spectator Success #3: setting up camp near the finish line is awesome. The smiles and determination I saw on the faces of the runners gave me chills, even moved me to tears a few times. 

The half marathoners continued to stream by, and despite Spectator Fail #6, somehow missing two of our friends in the crowd, we yelled and held the signs and rang the cowbells and took pictures and in general had a blast. 

Spectator Success #4: I got some great photos. Of all of the pictures I manage to get during the race, there were none better than when Missy and Ali ran by. The spirit of the weekend could not have been better expressed than by the joy on their faces and the victory in their body language!!

The runners were coming fast and furious now; we kept our eyes peeled for the friends still on the course. They came by one by one, and I felt like I shared the joy and triumph with each of them. 

As my friends finished, they returned back to hang out and enjoy each other's company: 

We laughed about the signs, and reveled in each others' company and accomplishments. The joy and elation was a palpable thing!

The half marathoners had all finished. Now... now it was time for the two intrepid marathoners to make their way to the finish line. Jason and Rachael, Rachael and Jason... we had spent months sharing our stories of miserably cold winter training runs; dealing with injuries; and learning how to mentally prepare for a race. 

Jason is a seasoned marathoner - in fact, he's an ultra marathoner, having run the JFK 50 miler last November. I knew he had a time goal for finishing this one, but nobody counts on hills like Raleigh had and temperatures approaching 80 by the time you finish. As he came up that last hill, he looked strong, but I could tell from the look on his face he had already mentally accepted that he wouldn't hit his time goal. I think, though, that runners never forget that the gift is truly in the ability to run. 

This was Rachael's first marathon, inspired to honor Jaimie's life and memory, and nothing about getting to the start line had been easy. Knee pain had almost hobbled her during her training; Aleve and ice packs had become constant companions. The strength and grit she showed just getting to the starting line was such an inspiration. As I saw her in the distance, coming up that hill, I was overcome - pride in her doing this thing, sadness that I couldn't be out there with her, love for all of the friends who had come together this weekend. I yelled for all I was worth, and the look on her face as she saw all of us waiting for her will always be with me.

She had made it - everyone had. It was time to make our way back to the finish line, to celebrate, relax, recover.

Spectator Success #5, and this one trumps all of the fails: I was there. It's a powerful thing to be a spectator of strong, beautiful women as they complete a journey - not of just 13.1 or 26.2 miles, and all of the training that led up to it, but also in finding some closure from a loss and the advent of a new journey of friendship and rediscovery of the bonds of the Long Gray Line.

The smallest sorority in the world

It's been almost a year since my West Point class lost Jaimie. It was a stunning, heart wrenching moment for each of us when we learned of her death, but time has a way of marching on, of continuing its inexorable journey forward. Losing her all these years after graduation, when our friends still in uniform are senior officers who we don't expect to be in the direct line of fire while deployed, was different than when we lost Eric, Matt, Phil, Michael, Mark, Ian. There's a somber understanding that as lieutenants and captains, your friends are the ones on patrol; the ones manning the forward units. We thought we were past that; we had come through the killing years with irreplaceable losses but with fewer than some of the classes that followed us.

As with all sorrow, though, hope and love can bloom. Our entire class felt the loss, but inside the much smaller circle of women from the Class of '97, a seed was planted that has bloomed into something more. It began with flowers for the funeral, and continued with a dinner gathering in Washington, D.C. The camaraderie and the voices of support gained momentum, and we settled on a date to reconnect again, a mini-reunion of the women of '97. After months of anticipation, over the course of the weekend, 14 of the 94 women that graduated together got together in Raleigh to run, to celebrate, to laugh, to support each other, and to even get to know those with whom, up to this point, we had only shared the bonds of the Long Gray Line. 

L to R: Karen, Giselle, Dana, Julie, Rachael, Leah, Julie, Melissa, Heather, Ali, me, Heather & Christie
And Jason in the back - he had a few hours to see what it was like for FOUR YEARS for us, ha!

I've said for many years that as a veteran of the United States Army, I'm a member of the biggest fraternity in the world. Last weekend, though, I realized something far more powerful, and much closer to my heart: as a West Point woman, I'm a very proud member of the smallest sorority in the world. 

It is no secret that the young men and women who enter West Point are some of the brightest our country has to offer. Less often discussed is the fact that these are also some of the most competitive people you'll ever meet. That desire to compete and to win is heightened in the crucible of the cadet experience, further amplified amongst many of the women of the class who not only intend to prove themselves broadly, but within the smaller peer set of women. It was often a zero sum game; for someone to be the best, she had to do so at the expense of someone else. 

I'm not convinced that atmosphere is unique to West Point, but I cannot imagine that any other institution of higher learning had the ratio, the pressure, the culture of competitiveness quite like ours. It was hard just to make it, and frequently, we made it harder on each other. 

As we've aged, I think we've all grown into our own skin. We have become confident, successful women who measure our success not in others' failings; not in physical appearance; not in class rank. Our success lies in being the best versions of ourselves we can be, in striving everyday to be that better person. The strength of our character now shines in our support for each other, in our refusal to judge and our insistence on being each others' most vocal cheerleaders. 

We spent much of last weekend together laughing and telling stories from school, sharing the latest on our girlfriends who weren't there, and celebrating who we've each become. It was an energizing, affirming weekend like I've never had, and I'm sure I'm not alone when I say I wish we had done this years earlier. It's a catch 22 though, I think. Years ago, I don't know that we would've been in a place to understand why we're so important to each other. 

My friend Melissa summed it up perfectly when she said:

"We spent four years trying to be one of the guys, only to realize now that our strength lies in being one of the girls."

Jaimie will always be missed; the loss will always be felt. But with her passing, the West Point women of the Class of 1997 received the priceless gift of understanding just how important we are to each other. 

Heather, Giselle, Melissa, Ali, Julie, me and Rachael
Proudly wearing our shirts to remember our USMA '97 fallen

With Pride We Defend. 

Gratitudes: Finding the silver lining

Not going to lie: I was NOT planning on this again:

It hasn't even been a full year since I broke my ankle, and here I am, back in das boot. This time, it's a "stress reaction" in the third metatarsal, and I ain't playin'. No running 18 miles on a broken bone this time. It was straight to the doctor, paid attention to the pain signals my body was sending me, and waited hopefully for a diagnosis that would allow me to do Raleigh on Sunday. 

You know, a diagnosis like 1) a bruised tendon or 2) severe tendinitis or 3) arthritis. 

Runners be crazy. 

It all started last Friday morning during a routine run, when right around the halfway point as we were headed back, I got this really weird, shooting pain right through the middle of my foot. I mentioned it to my buddies, and one even asked if I wanted to stop and walk, but I said "nah, let's just keep going." It hurt badly enough by midday that I figured I wouldn't do my Saturday run, and then I woke up Saturday with bruising and swelling, and couldn't put any weight on it.

Not good. I had an epic meltdown worthy of a seven year old around noon, then pulled myself back together for the rest of the weekend.

Unlike last year when I wanted to just gut it out and wait it out, I called my ortho over the weekend, left a message for an appointment, and called again first thing Monday morning. I got an afternoon appointment for X-rays and was encouraged when they came back "without an obvious break," as the doc said:

I know, that's some bunion, huh?

To which I responded immediately, "so I can run!"

Bless his heart, he has so much patience with idiot runners like me. 

No, no running. Now you can go get an MRI. So I dutifully made the appointment, got the MRI done yesterday, and headed back for the consult on the results today. I'm clearly no doctor, but even I could tell right away that my third metatarsal just ain't right:

And when the orthopedic surgeon tells you that a bit more running could've snapped it, and snapping it could've meant surgery and a screw in your foot, you get a little bit more motivated to be a compliant patient. So into the boot I went, and weirdly, I'm handling it without even the thought of another meltdown. 

In fact, I've decided that there are Gratitudes to go with what I could call a series of unfortunate events, but which instead I'll call "just my life."

1. If I had actually gotten into Boston with my BQ instead of what I thought at the time was a major disappointment, I'd be infinitely more crushed right now that I got in and couldn't run because of injury. 
2. If I had decided to train hard core and requalify for Boston with Raleigh or Garmin as my qualifying attempt and then couldn't race because of injury, I would've been just plain mad. 
3. This weekend, I had planned to run Raleigh as part of a reunion weekend with some of my female West Point classmates. Instead, I'll get to relax, enjoy their company, cheer them on, make race signs, and ring that cowbell for all it's worth for each one of them who makes it to the start line. 
4. I don't have a total "no workout" ban like last summer, so I can try once again to do some upper body and core work, two things that are woefully lacking from my fitness routine and that could, ultimately, actually make me a better runner. 
5. Speaking of things that could make me a better runner, a bum foot means I can get back in the pool earlier than planned. I love to swim - so much that I swam Masters when we lived in Ohio - but have pivoted to running so much that I haven't been in the pool in months. This gives me the time to rediscover the joy of swimming. 
6. I won't be gone two weekends in April, and won't be running a marathon the morning of John's 7th birthday. While I was looking forward to all of my planned races, the kids are definitely excited that I will be home those days!

I'm not going to pretend I'm not disappointed or upset. I love to run marathons; I really had my heart set on Going for Gold; and there's money already spent on race fees, though the amount pales in comparison to out of pocket costs for, say, foot surgery. There's also the little voice inside my head that surfaces from 20 years ago at West Point telling me to suck it up and work through the pain, that sitting out is for soft people and if I was really hard core, I'd gut it out and get it done. 

Thankfully, there are far, far more voices right here with me at home, at work, via text, email and Facebook messages telling me to stay off of it, rest, and heal. I'm grateful for those voices, and they easily drown out the one in my head.

So four weeks of no running, and then I'll reevaluate my running routine from there. I have a feeling my 30-40 mile per week days are over; the pool and the bike will get more attention, and I'll be better for it all around. I'm super excited about seeing my girlfriends this weekend, and there will still be a race report - it will just be from a different point of view. In fact, I think my vantage point shifted just a little bit with this diagnosis, but from here, it all still looks good.

If you're going to be in, be all in

Since my return to running, I've enjoyed the fact that I'm running. No pressure, no specific time goals, just wanted to get back and run another marathon. My welcome back race done, I've been looking forward to a reunion race with fellow female West Point classmates in April, but without a time goal in mind.

Until this morning.

This week's mileage was one of the easy weeks; only 14 miles for my Saturday run, with 18 last week and my first of two 20 milers in front of me next week. It's been a pretty good week for my training - I've been on a reasonably steady plan of 1-2 days of speed work, 2-3 days of mid-mileage during the week, and focusing on learning to negative split my long runs on the weekends.

With a company holiday last Monday, I skipped the interval work and ran a couple of miles with Justin for the first time in... well, for the first time in forever. I can't even remember the last time he and I laced up together. It was short, but it was sunny, and we kept a nice pace for the run:

Tuesday I got on the trainer - I'm very much looking forward to warmer weather so that I can get back on my bike and back in the pool. For now, though, I set my bike up inside, had the added bonus this week of being able to watch some Olympic Nordic Combined during my ride, and gave my sore hamstring a break.

Wednesday was the best run I've had in a while - all four of us, my stalwart friends who've trained with me every step of the way since I returned to running - had an excellent run. My plan for the day was to run for time, not for distance. Those are sometimes my favorite runs because I feel less pressure for pace, and am able to just get into the flow of however I feel that day. Turns out, we all felt great on Wednesday:

Ten miles, steady pace, felt like I could run another 10 at the end.

Thursday was my weekly tempo run with my friend Andy. He's a crazy good runner - he was instrumental in my PR / BQ run at Houston last year, doing regular interval and speed work with me. My tempo runs tend to be his recovery pace, which works great for me - I huff and puff, he carries the conversation by himself. It was a pretty windy morning; we started out downhill with the wind at our backs. I'm officially declaring myself an expert at running downhill with a tail wind. Even when we turned around, though, I kept the tempo pace. First time I've done that this year - another great run this week, and a solid morale boost, too.

A rest day on Friday, then this morning's 14 miler. Another beautiful morning - tights and two shirts, no jacket, no mittens. I could breathe without my tongue freezing (yep, that's happened a few times this winter) and I didn't have to cover my cheeks in Aquaphor. My friends by my side, my new kicks on my feet, and I felt... great. Free. Strong.

Sometimes the best part of a run is the feeling when it's over, but this morning, I felt great the whole time. There were a couple of rest stops, but I don't think I would've needed them if it was race day. We talked here and there along the way, especially about the upcoming Garmin Marathon we've been kicking around as a race to run together. Andy is going to pace his wife, Shauna, my running twin and perfect running partner - her BQ time is 3:55, and I know she can do it.

We talked about the plan; I felt great; the sun shone down on us; I thought about my own BQ effort that fell just a little bit short. I thought about the injury I'd sustained and my lack of focus on anything other than getting back into the game. And I thought about just how hard it is to train to run a race that fast. A year older, my BQ time is now 3:45, and I've dismissed it as too difficult to achieve with the shape I'm in at the moment.

And then it hit me - that's an excuse. I'm afraid of trying and failing. The first time I set a BQ in my sights, I knew that it might not happen the first time. The second time. The third, fourth, fifth, or fiftieth time. I thought it might be a decades-long odyssey, a shiny object always out of my reach. When I achieved it on my first effort, it changed everything. It then became an expectation of myself, and running became more about the pace and the time instead of the joy of putting one foot in front of the other.

When it became about the pace and the time, I realized this morning, that's when I began making excuses for myself for not trying to BQ again. I know exactly how hard it is to train for that kind of race, and I knew I hadn't trained that hard. So I said things like "I'm just happy to be running" and "my goal is to just finish the race." Excuses; half truths.

When I'm in, I'm all in.

This is my official declaration - I'm going to try for another BQ time in my races this spring. I have Raleigh on April 13th, and most likely, Garmin on April 26th. I'm going to buckle down, do my speedwork, watch what I eat, lose a few pounds, drink more water, and get more sleep. I'm going to do the hard things that have to be done to put myself in a position to train for a 3:45. I may not achieve it in April, but that's okay. Because if I don't try, I've already missed out.

Life is too short for excuses, and it's too short to try next time. This is my time, and I'm all in to go all out.

Race Report: Garmin Marathon in the Land of Oz

I got lucky - I picked a great race to round out my spring marathon season. Last Saturday, I ran the Garmin Marathon in Olathe, KS - you know, the Land of Oz! I heard about this race from my friend Jeff, and in my quest for 50 states, this sounded like an excellent option to cross off the Sunflower State.

I managed to talk a couple of girlfriends into joining me in Oz, and got lucky to also connect with a couple of other girlfriends who live in the area. Girls' weekend!! Friday morning, I got the kids off to school, then headed over to Sarah's house to pick her up and head north.

Best thing about going to races that are within driving distance: no bag limit for travel!!

The drive from NW Arkansas to Kansas City is easy. Unfortunately for me - and even more so for Becca - my navigational abilities are suspect even when aided by Google Maps. After a couple of wrong turns I managed to get to KC International, and we were off to packet pick up. Notice I didn't say expo - this was accurately billed as, "packet pick up." I do love small races, but the trade off is the lack of a big expo hall filled with vendors selling things I didn't realize I desperately needed until right.that.very.minute. (My budget thanks you, Garmin Marathon.)

Check out the flags. I think this was in between gusts.

The packet pick up and a couple of local vendors were set up in the parking lot of Garmin International's headquarters. Cool. Kansas wind: not cool. It was blowing like we were on the open plains, and while I expected some wind, this was disconcerting at the least. Good thing my stated race strategy was: wake up on race morning and let the weather be the primary dictator of my strategy. Reduces the chance for disappointment.

Got our packets, went inside to check out a cool digital fly-through of the race course, took a couple of pictures, then off to the hotel. Check in, get settled, then head out for an early dinner with Anne.

Everywhere you go, there you are - especially if you went to West Point and have friends and classmates scattered all over the U.S. Olathe is only about 45 minutes from Ft. Leavenworth, and after 15 years, I got to see my super-stud classmate Anne who helped me with a training plan for my half iron triathlon last summer. Her husband was running the half, so it worked out perfectly to have a pre-race dinner / reunion that afternoon. (For the record: she has two of the world's best behaved kids in the history of the universe ever. Seriously. They were so good while the grown ups sat and talked for two hours.)

Race morning: I was mentally ready for wind, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what to wear for the temperature. Base layer plus long sleeves? Base layer plus jacket? Just long sleeves? Tights were a non-decision, despite Sarah's crazy shorts. I mean, it was 37 degrees outside. She crazy. I opted for base layer and jacket, which meant race belt instead of pins for my number.

My official marathon race-day socks

We all got in the car, drove the five minutes to Garmin and parked 100 feet from the start line (did I mention that I love small races?!). I got out of the car and promptly decided I was overdressed. Good thing I brought three other clothing options in case I changed my mind. Jacket off, long sleeve on, race belt off, safety pins on. Ready to go.

Let's go, Twinkle Toes!

Sarah and me. Note the shorts. Cuh-razy.

Me and Becca. Finally - a race where I'm not wearing a blue shirt!!

After the events of last Monday in Boston, the feeling among the runners was different than any race I'd run before. Many of us pinned the extra sentiment with our number, and I saw more BAA blue and gold than I've ever seen at a race before. It was a lovely symbol of the running community, and how we're all interwoven. I don't have to know you - to know you're a runner is to know you're my friend.

So that's an awful lot of prelude to the race itself, which was terrific. Let me once again extol the virtues of a small race. I got out of my car about ten minutes before gun time, stepped almost to the front of the runners with the 3:30 pace group, and had no trouble finding room in the starting line crowd. Plenty of full and half marathoners, many in Oz costume which made it that much more fun!

There was a moment of silence to honor the victims in Boston, the singing of the national anthem, and we were off. True story, off I went: faster than my hoped-for average pace as is typically my strategy, but good grief - until close to mile 2, I didn't pay attention to exactly how too-fast I was running. I felt good, though, the weather was PERFECT, and I decided just to see how long the feeling would last. When I heard a spectator somewhere between miles 5 and 6 say, "there's the second female runner" as I sped by, that was a thrill of a lifetime. I knew it probably wasn't sustainable, but I was at a sub-8:00 pace and feeling terrific.

I failed to remember that the first many miles are net downhill. Doh.

So then the hills began. For those of you who think Kansas = flat, let me help you. Western Kansas is just that. Eastern Kansas, where we were, is on the bluffs of the river and rivals northwest Arkansas for rolling elevation changes. I felt okay through the half marathon point, but between the excessively fast pace and the lack of hill training the last six weeks, I knew the back half could get ugly.

Right again.

I managed to hold it together until about 16, but as more and more people passed me, and my pace dropped off as my calves and hamstrings tightened, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on to a 3:30 dream. Just as well; even my computer password at work has reminded me for the last two months that I was running this race for the bling. The last several miles of the marathon wound along the running trail in Olathe, which was exactly like the running trail at home. That was mentally a huge help, because at this point I was walking through the water stations and trying not to shuffle across the wee little uphills on the trail's bridges.

Another lesson learned at Oz: having friends running the half while you're running the full means a guaranteed finish line cheering section. Sarah and Becca were right there cheering me on as I came to the finish line, and I managed to finish in 3:44:42.

I think you had to be there...

I kind of have to pinch myself - three sub-4:00 marathons in four months. A year ago, I barely broke five hours. What a year it's been.

With some fellow Maniacs - running for fun!

She's a maniac, maniaaaaac...

I had to get a little help at the finish line to return my chip; while I was sitting I chatted with a young lady who had just finished her first marathon. In 3:29. Wowzers. I asked her old she was and she said 29 - to which I immediately responded that I was pretty sure she had just run a Boston qualifying time. The look on her face was exactly why I run - super excited for her.

Can I get - some help - with my chip - please!

Lots of fun at the finish line - the small "expo" was forgotten thanks to the excellent food, drinks, and massage tent at the finish line. I got my finisher's shirt; a free massage; two bowls of incredible mac & cheese; a grilled chicken sandwich; and a Belgian White celebratory beer. My space blanket finally wasn't enough to keep me warm, so we headed back to the hotel to get cleaned up and shower.

Girls' weekend continued with Heather picking us all up - no more directional challenges behind the wheel! - and we headed out for dinner. Our plan to go to Jack Stacks on the Plaza was foiled by excessive traffic in the highway, so we did what any self-respecting post-race celebrators would do. We opted for Five Guys cheeseburgers and fries!!!

If you're going to go all in, running marathons and eating cheeseburgers, then you really should go ALL IN - so we headed to Cheesecake Factory after dinner. (This dessert will be filed under "Why I Run.")


Party animals though we may be, that was about all we could handle. I think we all slept like the dead that night. Got up Sunday morning to load up the car, and whaddya know, the Kansas wind was back. Looks like my streak of crazy-windy races is over; after wind and rain in Houston, and a persistent headwind in Mississippi, I got a break in - of all places - Kansas. There's no place like home, there's no place like home...

All in all, an excellent weekend. Great times with Sarah, Becca, Anne and Heather, and so much fun running another 26.2. This was marathon #6 and state #6, but the last one until the Fall unless something totally unexpected happens. I'm glad I ran this one for the bling - because, as bling goes, this one is pretty sweet.