"Dammit, I want the medal!"

This was the upshot of a conversation I had with another runner at the Philadelphia marathon a few weeks ago. We were a mile from the finish of the 1/2 marathon and walk-running our way to the slowest finish imaginable.  I was feeling great, having squeezed every ounce of enthusiasm and cheer from an awesome morning on the course of a race for which I had not trained.  She (I don't know her name) was feeling miserable because she was struck with IT band pain around mile 7.

She told me she lived close to the course and actually went home (near mile 9) and called it a day. And then after feeling sorry for herself and moping on the couch she decided, screw it!  I'll walk if I have to!

She was still in the mopes when we met, because it wasn't the finish she had planned for. I thought it was kind of awesome -- she engineered her own redemption story, and had to fight the temptation of her own comfy living room to do it.

Since Thanksgiving (ok, it's only been a week...) I have been putting in slow, steady, not overly ambitious but just-right miles. And I have also been reading incredible stories of runners who have endured tremendous life-threatening tragedy, and emerged intact. Stories that put a laugh track under my own excuses and my Philly friend's frustration. And though I have thought this more than a few times, I'm ready to say my next marathon will be my best -- in time, spirit, training, cheer and fulfillment. VCM 2013, my fifth marathon, and the race's 25th anniversary.

Heading out now to run a few miles.

"Oh no....."

This was my first thought when I got an email last night entitled "2012 Leaf Peepers Race." My second thought was, "It's not tomorrow is it?" followed quickly, "How the hell did I forget that I signed up for this?!"

Here's how I forgot. Behold my list of topline projects for the next month:

* Train new producer and emerge from 3 months of debilitating understaffing
* Produce 6 election debates
* Finalize sale of house and purchase of condo, move
* Produce election night coverage
* Train for a marathon


My fall race plan was written and committed to (with determination! enthusiasm! gusto!) long before the events above were budged into motion The election sure, I knew that was coming. But vigorous, focused running seemed like a great antidote. And I've got the 3-year plan to get to ready for Antarctica, which waits for no news cycle.

This last point (Train for Marathon) gets us back to the first point. I signed up for the Philadelphia Marathon this summer, wanting a late fall race to avoid both the election and running the longest of long runs in the heat of summer. And then I doubled down by signing up for Leaf Peepers, which would fall neatly within my training, and to which I would add several miles to make the 1/2 marathon a good long run.

That was a great idea at the time.

Until life intervened and I reduced, sandwiched and rationalized a low-volume marathon training plan and completely forgot that I signed up for Leaf Peepers at all. I had so pushed it out of my mind that I truly wasn't sure the date of the race. I read the email as I was finishing two very long, very rainy days of traveling for work. (Aside: I packed my running clothes and planned to get in two runs during this road trip. I was really, really sure that I had a pair of shoes in my bag, and another pair in the car. When I dressed for my first run, I discovered I had one shoe total. Nicely done, Daniels.)  So I was relieved to realize that race was NOT the next day. I was only partially relieved to realize that the race is next week.

This feels like a rerun of last year's Leaf Peepers. I trained, but not effectively. At the last minute I gave into doubt and misgivings and did not run. I did come to cheer on friends and I felt like a pile of turd for not giving a shot.

This year, I will be there. I will run. I will run slowly and even walk. It will be rough going, but I will finish. And then Philly is just a round the corner, as soon as I get a few other things done first.

Quebec City: Hill Training Made Unavoidable!

And I thought Vermont was hilly...

This post begin awhile back with a fantastic agreement among six of us to run 100 on 100, a day-long 100-mile relay race through Vermont from Stowe to Ludlow along Route 100. We pile into a van and trade off running designated legs of the course, each of us running three times between the start and finish. Add costumes, stir in crazy cheering and occasional stops at swimming holes, mix.

Our team met a few weeks ago to look at the course profiles for each leg of the race. Each runner has a good mix of really hard and only just-hard running to do, around 5-6 miles for each leg. I really wanted to run the leg through Waitsfield, my first Vermont home, and foolishly let that cloud my judgement in reading the course description:

Hills approaching the Round Barn Farm, Waitsfield. (Fall)

"This leg is one big hill from start to finish and the length is not short. Those of you willing to lay yourself down for the team will thrive on the challenge of this hill."

Challenge? Who doesn't love a challenge?!

This Fourth of July week, I took time off work and spent a day in Waitsfield catching up with friends and taking a gander at what 100 on 100 considers a challenge. I kind of think they know what they're talking about....

In the entire time I live in Waitsfield, I wasn't a runner. One time Emily goaded me into a running the 4-mile Mad Dash, but I didn't really train and I walked part of it. Otherwise, I stuck to the Mad River path, snowshoeing in the winter and swimming in the summer. I drove East Warren Road countless times in my years in the Valley, and never did it really occur to me how steep and relentlessly hilly it is. Never did I think to honk or cheer for the runners and bikers I saw chugging up that road. Never did I fully understand that valleys are created by steep, steep hills.

On Tuesday, I ran from Bridge Street (through the covered bridge, awww!) up to the Round Barn Farm and back. This is just a small section of the overall run but it was a wake-up call: I need to commit to some serious hill training!

You call that a hill?!

On Thursday, my last-minute vacation to Quebec City offered the perfect chance to get started. I checked into my hotel in the Old City in the evening and immediately headed out on a hilly run between the upper Old City and the lower Old City -- stairs, steep streets, stone ramparts, grass trails. I didn't have a route, just a desire to get oriented to the town and take every uphill or downhill that crossed my path. Cruising down the steep, steep street from the cathedral to the lower town, I had a grin on my face that prompted a passerby to say, "I'd like to see you smiling heading back UP the hill!" To which I thought, "Yes! That is the goal!" I smiled up the hills, down the hills, at the horses plaintively drawing carriages of tourists, at policemen and street artists. I may have seem slightly crazed, but the mantra 'fake it till you make it' works for me: decide to enjoy the run, and before you know it you ARE enjoying the run.

Looking up at the Frontenac from the lower Old City.

The next day day, I kept my Garmin going as I walked all over town, up hills, down hills, in museums, shops, along the Terrasse Dufferin. I clocked 9 miles by evening, at which point I headed out on a run across the Plains of Abraham. The fields swarmed with walkers, runners, and festival-goers heading to a massive outdoor concert that became my soundtrack for much of the run. I stopped here and there to take in the gorgeous views of the St. Lawrence, and duck into the wooded trails off the main paths. I circled the Quebec Parliament building and headed back into the Old City just as the sun set, satisfied with four more miles on the Garmin and great day behind me.

Snowshoeing: much more fun when there's snow

In December, I put up little white Christmas lights on my house and picket fence (yes, a picket fence - it's not just for nostalgic TV shows). In a normal year, the lights reflect grandly off the snow in the yard, and the glow makes me feel warm and fuzzy and... wintery.

This year, the lights stayed on the house through a snowless December... January... and February. I was determined to leave those Christmas lights up until winter finally arrived! And now on March 4, I can happily report I've had snow in my yard for almost a week.

All this is a long way of explaining my glee in today's snowshoe outing! Other parts of Vermont have fared better with snow totals than the Champlain Valley has, but the snowfall last week sealed the deal. I headed to central Vermont to meet Emily for an excellent trek up the trails of Little River State Park.

We probably went about 2.5 miles (not sure exactly), a couple good steep stretches, one river to fjord, and we finally go to the remnants of a century-old sawmill that had been our vague destination throughout the hike. Chomped on delicious pine-flavored snow! Crossed a few sweet bridges over streams. Came to terms with the fact that I am out of shape, but still able to enjoy the outdoors, fresh air and good exercise.

Thanks, Emily!

Antarctica, 2015

First, Houston...
I spent an inspiring and larynx-destroying weekend in Houston watching both the Olympic marathon trials and the Houston marathon. Meeting Abdi (men's third place finisher) in the lobby of the Hilton was a thrill and I will be cheering hard for him when he competes in London.

Cheering hard for Jess, Beth and Heidi was equally thrilling (where the heck did Heidi go??). Jess had a killer time, Heidi overcame injury and lack of training and Beth bested her goal only four months after having a baby. If being in their company doesn't get you motivated, I don't know what will!

Which led to...
And that's probably why I, an out of shape lapsed runner, decided with spontaneity and total conviction to run the Antarctica marathon. (Having Erika enthusiastically endorse this as a good idea definitely egged me on.)

If race vendors at marathon expos ever wondered if their multitude of brochures have a return on investment, I am proof: I sent in my deposit my first day back in Vermont.

How does this work?
A company called Marathon Tours puts the race the together, running among the base camps of several countries' research stations. (I think the Russian station is the start and finish - slava bogu, a good omen!)

The entire adventure is a roughly two-week expedition on a boat, including penguins, whales, sea kayaking, ice fjords and a marathon thrown in the middle. Read this year's itinerary for an idea.

Why the...?
I may have never liked running, but I have always liked adventure. Running my first marathon WAS an adventure, but now I need something a little bigger and scarier to keep me in the game. I have three years to get back into shape and get ready for the cold. Erika and Beth point out this should be easy in Vermont -- every time it's really cold, really snowy or really windy I have to go outside for run. This weekend is great test!

Here's the plan:

Spring 2012: run 1/2 marathons
Fall 2012: run full marathon, Chicago?
Spring 2013: full marathon, VCM?
Fall 2013: 1/2 marathons
Spring 2014: full marathon, San Diego?
Fall 2014: 1/2 marathons
Spring 2015: Antarctica!!