Going for Gold

I'm at it again. And by it, I mean two things: 1) running and 2) working on my New Year's resolutions. Technically, I'm also working on my life list, but that's a tertiary consideration.

Tomorrow begins my quest for gold: Maniac Gold, that is. Between tomorrow and May 4th, I will run four marathons in 35 days.

1. March 30th: Hogeye Marathon, Fayetteville, Arkansas
2. April 13th: Raleigh Rock 'n' Roll Marathon, Raleigh, North Carolina
3. April 26th: The Garmin Marathon in the Land of Oz, Olathe, Kansas
4. May 4th: Square to Square Marathon, Bentonville, Arkansas to Fayetteville, Arkansas

I've been an official Marathon Maniac for almost two years, but when I qualified, I slid in at the lowest qualification level with what, if you ask me, would be considered the easiest way to qualify: two marathons in 16 days. Back in 2012, I did the Hogeye Marathon on April 15th and then the Nashville Marathon on April 28th. I celebrated my Maniacness at the finish line with my bestie Jill and her husband Michael, who had my reward in hand courtesy of a local running friend who'd figured out how to get it to her: my Marathon Maniac Sweaty Band!!

Since then, there have been super highs and one big super low in my running pursuit, but I'm back on track and running as much as ever. This year, I set a goal to up my Maniac level. I set the goal without a specific plan as of January 1st, and considering what it takes to qualify for some of the Maniac levels, I figured it might take more than a year to figure it out.

Check out what it takes to be some of the highest levels - you think I'm a crazy runner, there are people out there who are Palladium! Platinum!! Titanium!!!

With 2014, I also decided to recommit myself to speed work to try and requalify for Boston after the disappointment of missing the cutoff for this year's race. This winter, the weather has been totally uncooperative, and my head has been back and forth on my commitment to speed work. About a month ago, as my friend Shauna and I did the math on what it would take pace-wise to run a 3:45 or faster, the wind went out of my sails. I just don't have the mental strength this year to train for that kind of sustained speed.

I've thought a lot about whether fast matters. I've considered the many, many reasons I run. Ultimately, fast does matter. But it's far behind so many of the other reasons - time with friends, my mental and physical health, the sheer joy of knowing my body is strong enough to persist mile after mile after mile. My most enjoyable run to date this year was a Saturday run where I slowed down and spent time talking to friends I haven't run with in a good long while. That was what finally convinced me that for me, the joy is in the race, not the finish line.

Which brings me back to my Gold pursuit: these four races aren't going to be about time. The Hogeye isn't a Boston certified course, so my time wouldn't matter for qualification purposes, anyway. Raleigh is going to have over ten thousand runners, and a packed course is not an ideal time to go for speed. Oz is a repeat race for me, and while I may have a shot at some speed, it's a little bit hilly and challenging for a BQ attempt. And Square to Square is a free, unofficial marathon put on by a local running store, so certainly not Boston certified.

These races are about the joy of running, and all of the reasons to run other than fast. Race reports to come, but I can tell you up front, they will all be fun.

What a Difference a Year Makes

So here I am, on the eve of another race trip. I'm headed out tomorrow to drive down to Baton Rouge with my friend Mary, to meet our friends Liz and Tim, to run The Louisiana Marathon on Sunday. I'm super excited, and looking forward to a fun weekend with friends doing one of my favorite things in the world.

What a difference a year makes.

The second weekend of January last year, I was a bundle of nerves, headed down to Houston with my husband and kids to run the Houston Marathon. I had a specific time goal, I had trained my patootie off, and I was one lean, mean, running machine. I had my best race ever, despite less than perfect weather, and left every bit of me on that course that I had. When I finished, running a Boston Qualifying time, I knew that even if it wasn't good enough, it was all I could've done that day. I had given it all, and I was proud of the work I'd done, the effort I've given, and the result I'd achieved.

Fast forward to today, January 16th, 2014, and I'm simply happy to be looking at another 26.2 start line. My somewhat-serious injury last summer really put my running in perspective for me. I'm not going to lie and say it hasn't been disappointing to have gained a pound here and there and lost a step in the same heres and theres. It took a serious commitment and countless hours of work, often painful, to get better, to run faster. I hope to get back to something approaching that level of fitness again in the coming years, despite now knowing exactly how much work it is to do that.

Even with all of that work, with all of that commitment, it wasn't all unqualified success. Sometimes doing our best truly isn't good enough. That's when we learn just a little bit more about ourselves, and realize just a little bit more clearly that sometimes, achievements aren't about garnering recognition from others. The BAA told me my Houston marathon time just wasn't quite fast enough to come run their race in 2014. I was disappointed, for sure. There was a bit of a funk for a few days. Then I snapped out of it, and continued the work to rehab my ankle and just enjoy the freedom of lacing up and hitting the pavement.

So here I am - a year later, a little more than 365 days after a cold, windy, personal best marathon, and I'm thrilled to just get to the start line. I may run a sub-4:00, I may run a 4:30, I may have an unexpected, unforeseen, and inexplicable day and run another 3:38 (but don't count on it). Unlike last year, though, I really don't care what the clock says when I cross that finish line. I know I'm blessed just to be there, laced up and ready.

Ready to run.

I'm a Wicked Disappointed Runnah

Remember that period of elation when I qualified for the Boston Marathon?

It was awesome while it lasted.

With the awful events at the 2013 Boston Marathon, there was significantly higher interest in running the 2014 race. I've surprised a lot of people - read, non-runners - with that little tidbit. What do you mean, more people are interested? Wouldn't less people want to do it? But runners are like that - you put an obstacle in our path, a challenge, and it's in our nature to want the prize beyond the barrier just a little bit more.

The BAA did increase the field this year - 9,000 more runners than usual, a total of 36,000 runners for the field of the 2014 race. For me, though, it wasn't enough. I missed being one of the runners by 9 seconds.

Nine. Seconds.

Ouch.

I spent a day being way more disappointed than I thought I would. For weeks, I kept telling myself that with the best-time entry process, and the significantly heightened interest in the race this year, BQ-1:29 probably wasn't going to cut it. And that if it didn't, I was fine with that, because I had left it all out on the course in Houston. I couldn't have run that race one.second.faster than I did. And besides, if I didn't get into the 2014 race, I'd have a whole five minutes more for qualifying in 2015, because I'd move up to the 40-44 age group. Silver lining.

But when that rejection email came across, the disappointment was overwhelming. And it lasted for about 24 hours.

Today, I've snapped out of it. I've moved from sad and disappointed to mad and determined. I've been in a bit of a holding pattern with my workouts - between the broken ankle and not having a race committed on the calendar, I've done little in the way of organized workouts. But this morning - this morning was my first workout to get ready to try and BQ for 2015.

Not a bad start.

Heartbreak

I think like a lot of people, it's taken me a couple of days to digest the mess in Boston. I didn't originally think I wanted to blog about it, but as the hours go by, I go from shock and grief to anger and defiance. So I am going to add yet another voice to the countless people speaking out in the online community. Someday I'll look back at this blog for all of the things that happen, 365 days a year, and I don't want to forget how I felt and what I thought when some jerk decided to use an American tradition for his (or her) own selfish, twisted purposes.

I'm heartbroken for the families who lost a loved one.

I'm heartbroken for those irreparably injured, and for their friends and families who will now have the burden of helping them find their way forward with a life forever altered.

I'm heartbroken for the winners of the 117th Boston Marathon. Their day of victory in the long and grand tradition of America's oldest and most prestigious 26.2 mile race was stolen from them.

I'm heartbroken for the runners who had already crossed the finish line. A day of celebration, joy and personal victory will now forever be a day that they remember as one of tragedy.

And especially, especially, I'm heartbroken for the runners who didn't make it to the finish line.

I do not in any way mean that the biggest tragedy, the worst calamity, was in not finishing the race. Nothing can supersede the loss of life, the loss of limbs, the loss of a sense of security that we all once again face. But for runners who would have been crossing the finish line after that moment frozen in time - 4:09 - those are the runners who are just like me.

Those are the runners who run for the joy of running. They run because they can. They run to lose weight; to cope with stress; to hold on to youth; to spend time with friends; to enjoy sunrises and sunsets and conversations over the miles and the solitude of a run to just finally have no more thoughts to think.

Qualifying for Boston was very probably one of their greatest athletic achievements. It was an achievement that took energy and effort; it took time away from their loved ones to log mileage on the road, on the trail, on the track, on the treadmill. It was an achievement that took personal sacrifice. It was an achievement that came with no small amount of physical pain, and probably injury for many of them.

And because some jerk - some nut job - some vicious person - decided to try and make a statement with violence, these runners' victory of getting to the start line in Boston will never be rounded out by the euphoria of getting to the finish line.

So yes, I'm heartbroken. But I'm also angry.

I qualified for Boston, and with any luck, my qualifying time will be fast enough to get me into Boston 2014. Yes, I am still going to run it. Because if anything is true about marathoners, it's that adversity, pain and difficulty are what we deal with every time we go for a long run, every time we step up to a start line.

It will take much more than a coward with a twisted vendetta to make me and my running friends live in fear of the race.

I'm a Wicked Fast Runnah

If you know me, then you know I love to run. Maybe a little over-the-top love to run. But I honestly, genuinely, passionately love to run. One of these days I'll blog about all of the reasons why.

Not today. Today, I celebrate achieving a goal that I honestly thought was a dream, not a goal with a tangible finish line.

Yesterday, I qualified for the Boston Marathon.

If you're a runner, that's kind of a holy grail. The original - the oldest marathon in America, run since 1897. The race is so popular, you can't just register and send in your money. You can't even put your name in for a lottery. You have to qualify. As in, run a certain time (or faster) for your age group, and then you get the privilege of submitting your name for registration. And, hopefully, your qualifying time is fast enough to snag one of the available spots for the race.

But let's not focus on the details - let's talk about how I JUST QUALIFIED FOR THE BOSTON MARATHON!!!

This past weekend was one of the most personally fulfilling of my life. It all started months ago with my dad sending me an email... his company had a corporate team running the Houston Marathon to raise money for the Ronald McDonald House, and I was invited to join them. BOOM. Just like that - I'm signed up for the race! (Thanks, Daddy!!)

I start to think about training, and initially set a goal of a sub-4:00 marathon, which was crazy talk. I mean, my PR (personal record) at that point was 4:46 and some change. Who takes 46 minutes off their time in less than a year??? (Leading question... almost nobody...)

So I start to talk about my plan at work. Constantly. Incessantly. And most likely, annoyingly. Lucky for me, there are like-minded running enthusiasts in my office, and one of them scoffed at my sub-4:00 goal. Sub-4:00? he says. What's that? Why don't you shoot to qualify for Boston?

** insert Amanda's gape-mouthed, astonished stare HERE **

Now THAT is crazy talk. My age group (women 35-39) has to run a 3:40:00 or faster time. That comes out to an 8:23 average per mile pace, which yours truly had never demonstrated in any race of any distance (not counting a couple of Army PT tests, but come on, that was YEARS ago).

But the seed was planted. And I had the bug. Bad. BQ? Really? Me? Now the question was, how...

Enter awesome West Point classmate whose sister is a professional runner. They put their heads together, come up with a training plan. I enroll multiple running friends to help me along the way. I tell pretty much anyone and everyone who would listen that I was trying to BQ. Nothing like the specter of public humiliation to motivate you when you don't feel like dragging yourself out of bed for a 5AM run in 17 degree weather.

Fast forward four months, and it's marathon weekend. Best Husband Ever packs up Enthusiastically Supportive Kids and we all head down to Houston. I'll save most of the details of race weekend and race day (well, technically, both race days... did I mention I may be a little over-the-top with the running?) for tomorrow's blog post. But the most important detail wasn't a detail at all; it was the key piece.

I may have lined up alone at the start line, but I wasn't alone for a single minute on that course.

All of my running friends here at home were with me, as I thought of our speed work, our hill repeats, our long runs, and our conversations over text, email and lunch as I worked to get better. The miles and miles and miles we've run together held me up, every single step I took.

All of my running friends that live all over the country were with me, when I thought of their own training stories, when I heard their songs on my playlist, as I thought of one of them running a different marathon at the exact same time I was running Houston.

I had my West Point classmates with me, the ones who cheered me on with "BQ! BQ! BQ!" whenever I posted a great training day on Facebook. My classmates who were training for their own marathons but took time to support me with my training. My classmates who encouraged me when their response to my goal was an attitude of "Of course you can do it, Amanda. We know you can."

But most of all, I had my amazing, wonderful, world's-best family down there on the course, in the miserably cold, wet, windy weather. Cheering for me, encouraging me, keeping me going, motivating me to put one foot in front of the other. My husband, my kids, my sister, my dad, my mom, my brother, my niece, my sister, and my brother-in-law. At mile 8, at mile 12, at mile 16, at mile 22, and at the finish. Braving the weather and navigating closed roads and Houston traffic because they're proud of me; because they believe in me; because they love me.

I love to run. But that pales in comparison to the people I love who enable my love of running.