TWENTY-ONE MILES!

I'm a bit sorry for the unimaginative title of this post--I thought of a few more creative than that, but none more satisfying. =)

Last, last Saturday (3/27) was a 21-mile run with The Children's Hospital on the course, much like the 17-miler we did before, except this time we ran the *first* 21 miles and ended shortly after Heartbreak Hill.

An elegant, simple illustration of the course can be found on this page of Boston Partners website--thanks to the wonderful Jess for designing it!

Jess's latest blog post (more appropriately, her latest epic poem) has inspired me to divide this one into parts--let's go with six parts, in honor of (but not at all based on) the six towns we ran through.

I'm not sure I've mentioned it before, so let me now: I'm an English major. I'm apparently incapable of short blog posts. =)


I: How 19 Miserable Miles Messed with My Meddlesome Mind

The recap in my last blog post of our 19-miler simply did not do it justice. Let me quickly revisit two really important things I missed.

1) Gary and Bob are my heroes. Two friends of Erin's were kind enough to offer their services at a water stop by the Charles River. They volunteered for this duty. On a Saturday morning. In the pouring rain. I can't believe I didn't mention this in my last post--seriously guys, thank you.

2) Gary and Bob are my heroes. Not only did these two endure an early hour and egregious weather, they served as Laura and I's only water stop. There was apparently another one later on, but we were both so focused on taking one step and then another that neither of us actually saw it. I don't think we realized how much of an impact this had on us at the time, but one water stop is just not quite enough for a 19-mile run.

Laura's title for her blog post about that miserable run sums it up beautifully: "19. 19? 19!" We conquered, but it hurt.

I mentioned hitting the wall somewhere around Mile 17 last post, and I meant it. Every step after that mark was a struggle, so much so that when the time came to think about tacking yet another 2 miles onto 19-miles--well, I was freaking out.

21-miles? Really?? Can't I catch a cold before Saturday morning hits?

My mind kept returning to something our coach's wise wife had told us immediately before heading out for the 19-miler:

This run is going to be hard; there's no doubt. But I don't want you to worry that adding another 10k onto this run or the next long run is going to be that much harder than what you're about to do. In some ways, the marathon is easier. You'll taper down in training miles before the marathon, so your muscles will be rested. You'll have so much support along the way--so many water stops, fans, and adrenaline that in many ways, this 19-mile run and the upcoming 21-mile run will be more difficult than the marathon itself.

With this advice and the memory of the 19-miler in the forefront of my anxiety-ridden brain, I resigned myself to the fact that this 21-miler was flat-out going to suck... but that if I could do this, I could do anything.


II: "I've never been so thankful to start running!"

Teammate Brandt was kind enough to give Erin, Laura and I a ride to Boston College, where the buses awaited us to transport runners to Hopkinton. Thanks to the aforementioned anxiety about the pending run, I would have been all nerves on the bus ride over--but teammate Todd saved the day. Scene:

Todd to Erin: "How long is this bus ride?"

Erin to Todd: "About an hour."

Todd (removes crossword puzzle and pen--revealed to audience for the first time--from jacket): "All right then."

Todd and I spent the next 60 minutes too busy pondering what twelve-letter word fits the clue "Views" to worry about the run looming inevitably in our not-so-distant futures.

We finally arrived to the small town of Hopkinton, where I was *not* particularly eager to get off the bus. Not only did stepping out of our transportation bring me that many steps closer to the Start Line--but it was downright cold outside.

We left the bus and stood around, waiting for fellow teammates Jess and Lisa to join us from another bus pulling in behind ours. And though we tried to heed our coach's advice to stand *calm* and *still* before a long run--to preserve all the energy you possibly can to put into the run itself--we couldn't resist bouncing around a little in a weak attempt to combat the below freezing March morning temperature.

Jess and Lisa joined us just in time. A huge group of Children's Hospital runners were just getting up to the Starting Line to begin, and we wanted to follow them to ensure we wouldn't get lost. (The sheer number of their runners helped, as did their hard-to-miss singlets--see below.)


We were half-frozen, but we were off! Between the pre-run nerves and the pre-run weather, it wasn't long before this chapter's title phrase came out of my mouth: "I've never been so happy to start running!"


III: Hansel & Gretel Revisited

Fortunately for our muscles and our psyches, we warmed up quickly. In a trash bag at the third water stop, I shed the free gloves given out at one of the promotional tables set up at the Start Line. We noticed quite a few discarded gloves and carb gels (also given out in Hopkinton) on the ground along the course, and my usual Long Run Running Mate, Laura, pointed out that we needn't fear getting lost; we could just follow the trail of gloves and gel like Hansel and Gretel. The Gu packets provided the same nutrition as bread crumbs, after all--just carbs in a different form!

...And surely you can see how chatting with this clever lady would make 21 miles a bearable task! After all, that's three and a halfish hours to spend with someone--how many people in the world would you voluntarily spend three and halfish hours straight with? Not to mention, of those people, how many happen to want to run a marathon and happen to run at your same pace? (This assumes that the general "you" wants to run a marathon and is, consequently, inherently flawed from the start.) =) Anyway, my point is that I feel quite lucky to find such a well-suited training partner!

Top Five Other Reasons Laura Rocks to Run With:
5) She gets appropriately excited to hear "No Diggity" at a water stop.
4) She remembers that the street sign she knows you get excited about is coming up even before you do.
3) She can (and will) carry on an intelligent conversation about Ramona Quimby (age 8).
2) If you have a terrible 80s song in your head--with zero prompting--she will whistle the Mario theme song in order to replace it.
1) Drum roll, please... aaaaand see Chapter V. =)

We will refer to this the "I Laura" chapter--the "I Erin" chapter is still to come.

This marathon's making me gooey. [Bam! Foreshadow!]


IV: I Feel Good (I Didn't Know that I Would)

I spent much of the first miles of the run freaking out that we were starting out too fast. Our coach had just sent out an email with the ominous warning, "If you start out too fast, you can never turn around and redo it." It sufficiently frightened me, and more than once, I asked Laura, "Do you think we're going too fast? How fast are we going? Do you think we should slow down here?"

It was also our first time trying out the start of the course, and we were quickly learning just how downhill the beginning is. The immediate consequence seemed to be my freaking out that we were running too fast--the consequence in later miles was some mild barking from our tired hamstrings. That didn't appear until near the end of that day's route, though--I'm getting ahead of myself!

What seemed to be just shortly into the run, Laura's magical GPS watch sang for the seventh time. "We're already a third of the way done!" she exclaimed. "That great," I said rather automatically, initially only half-digesting the magnitude of her words. A few seconds later, I understood. "That's phenomenal!" We both felt great, and Laura commented that it still felt like we had just started running.

Much of how phenomenal our legs felt was owed to the run/walk method--I've mentioned it before, and I'll probably mention it again. After every nine minutes of running, you walk for one minute. This causes you to run the nine minutes slightly faster than you normally would, so you actually keep the same pace (and feel way better, given the minute of muscle-recovery time) that you would normally--our Coach actually argues that over the course of 26 miles, this method makes beginning marathoners faster.

It took me a bit of convincing to initially try the run/walk, though not as much as Laura, the self-proclaimed pony: "Once I get going," she once told Erin and I, "I don't want to stop!" This run was ideal for proving to both of us that we really aren't losing speed.

I usually picture a "ghost" version of myself (this image will make the most sense to gamers, I suspect--see third paragraph of this article if you're curious) who runs the whole marathon at a slower pace, and the run/walk version of myself attempts to keep up with Ghostie. Ghostie is way out in front for the first half, but my run/walker ultimately catches up and passes the constant runner--feeling much less dead to boot.

At the 21-miler, I didn't have to imagine a theoretical "ghost" runner. We ended up falling into pace directly behind a pack of three or four very fit-looking girls from The Children's Hospital team. Every time we walked, we would fall behind them, and every time our nine minutes of jogging were up, we caught back up. We ultimately passed them and finished in front of them when they broke off for a bathroom break (cheating, I know), but referencing them as a speed barometer was great for me to quell any remaining doubts that run/walk was the way to go for the marathon. To borrow Erin's metaphor, we're believers.


V: Gu Gu Dolls

The most loyal of readers may remember that way, way back in a previous post, I discussed buying a carb gel packet to try and then promptly losing it on my run. I wasn't particularly heartbroken, since the thought of carb gel in a packet did not sound appetizing. At all.

Consequently, up until this point, I had always carried real food with me: granola bars cut into chunks, gummy bears, pretzels. With the pockets provided on my training jackets--necessary all throughout winter training--carrying the food was no problem. Now, however, with summer temperatures approaching, how could I possibly carry baggies of snacks in a tank top or pocketless capris?

I did buy a miniature fanny pack in an attempt to replace my ever-so-taken-for-granted pockets, but alas, it couldn't hold the same volume. Large portions of energy in small packets seemed to be the solution.

Alas, I would try a carb gel.

And you know what?

THEY'RE DELICIOUS.

If you are a long distance runner and you share my former fears of a possibly weird texture, disgusting taste, etc.--go buy a Betty Crocker can of pre-made fudge frosting. If you enjoy a spoonful of that by itself, you can probably handle a Chocolate Outrage Gu. You might even love it.

...Which brings me to the #1 reason Laura Rocks to Run With: she did not judge me when I told her this. And though her flavor of choice is Chocolate Mint... she even kinda agrees.

We should start a mainstream rock band...


VI: Unbroken after Heartbreak Hill

This was not the first time we had run Heartbreak Hill; we had already once beaten that beast on the 17-miler. This was, however, the first time we had run Heartbreak Hill in "real time"--as in, facing it after already having run 19 miles.

But we were ready. Welcome to the "I Erin" chapter.

I usually run to work with Erin three times a week, and she plots wonderfully insane routes. We tackle the most challenging hills in Somerville, and those who know Somerville know that that's saying something. Erin, Laura, and I all tackled a 13-mile route she planned for us that somewhat mimicked the Boston course; we started with few hills and ended with a finale of altitude change madness. It was tough considering it was supposed to be an "easy" week of thirteen miles--but man did it pay off. The hills of Newton (including Heartbreak) were certainly not easy, but they were manageable.

Near the beginning of the hills, I proposed there be a subdivision of Mario characters. We determined that really, it should just be the villains. Street names should include Bowser Blvd, Koopa Lane, Hammer Brother Circle.

And at the end of the last hill--where the 21-miler concluded, and where we could finally breathe easy--I kid you not--we saw this man:


I made a short, painful walk down a hill to ask Mario to pose for that picture as evidence that he wasn't a post-run hallucination--we actually saw Mario!! We then took our traditional celebratory photo of Laura's GPS watch to prove that we really did just run 21 miles, and I collapsed on the ground--my legs were literally shaking when I stood. We were tired, sore, and oh so triumphant.



Here are a couple more pictures, courtesy of Erin's camera (thank you, Erin!) This be the group, each of us sporting a lei handed out at the finish line.

from left to right: Jess, Erin, me, Laura, Lisa, & Todd

And this be Erin and Jess in a triumphant finish:

Another bit of marathon madness complete!

marathon blog post

Time to catch up! I'm going to speed through all of the past long runs to catch up to where we are today. Progress has been made, and it must be documented!

February 27, 2010: Excuses
I showed up to this 18-miler with no intention to run. My foot still had the glaring blood blister; I hadn't gotten a chance to buy new shoes yet (see "Sick" by Shel Silverstein); and I convinced myself that I would attend our team pre-run discussion, leave, buy new shoes, and run the next day instead.

That didn't work. I wanted to get the run over with (not the best attitude to tackle 18 miles, but it happens), and not many folks had shown up to that particular team run. Somehow, that motivated me to want to do it all the more. Not to mention, my homies Laura and Erin would join me if I ran that day. So we ran.

And we walked!

This was the first time we heeded our coach's advice to walk one minute for every nine minutes we ran. None of us had been eager to try this, since walking felt so much like giving up somehow. But when the walk-breaks are planned, brief, and all throughout the run (as opposed to suddenly decided upon near the end of the run when you're out of breath and feel like you can't go on), they're wonderful.

Though it seems counter-intuitive, our pace didn't suffer. We all found that we ran faster during the nine minute intervals with scheduled walk breaks than we would have without walking, so we felt that we ended the run with just as good of a time and more energy. This run made us believers.

March 6, 2010: Owning the Bike Path
Back to just 13 miles for this run, and there wasn't a regular team meeting scheduled. I met Erin in Arlington to knock out a relatively easy, unofficial half-marathon on the Bike Path. You might recall that this was the same setting that our harder-than-it-ever-should-have-been 17 miles was just a few weeks previous; we were happy to own the route this time. We continued with the run/walk method, and we even managed to conquer Park Hill *two* times without dying. Check!

March 13, 2010: "I Might Die Here"
The Monday following this run, I overheard Erin tell another one of our coworkers, "At one point, I told myself I had to put one foot in front of the other, or else I might die there." I knew immediately she was talking about this run.

This was another team run mile marker: 19 miles in the pouring rain and gusting wind. This day was just begging to be legendary.

I wasn't nervous about running in the rain on this Saturday, since we had done it more than one time before. One glance at the weekend's forecast also confirmed that the rain would last all weekend, so there was no reason not to run with the rest of the team on Saturday--it's not like running Friday or Sunday would spare me from getting wet.

Unfortunately, my overconfidence regarding the weather led me to under-dressing for the first time. I didn't bring gloves along, and I chose a t-shirt and track jacket instead of double-layering sleeves with a long-sleeve and track jacket as I should have.

At one point in the run, Laura and I stopped under a bridge to take shelter from the monsoon, and we both worked to try to open a packet of carb gel she had brought. I volunteered to help when she initially couldn't get it, figuring my lack of gloves would provide my fingers more dexterity. Instead, the cold had left my hands unable to function properly, and they didn't listen to my brain's instructions to separate the two sides of the plastic packet. Laura ended up tearing the top off with her teeth, and we made our way back into the rain, determined to get the run over with.

Weather was a mammoth challenge to this run, but I can't emphasize how difficult the distance was to conquer as well. When I first looked at our training run schedule, I stopped considering the differences between long runs once those numbers got into the teens. At the time, there seemed a gigantic difference between 2-mile runs and 4-mile runs, but 17-mile runs and 19-mile runs sounded pretty much the same. Once you get into numbers that high, a 2-mile difference just doesn't matter that much, right?

Ask me that question about the difference between 12 and 14, and I'll actually still agree with you. However, something happens between 17 and 19. I think this may be the Ominous Thing that runners always refer to as The Wall.

Near the end of the run, the wind had picked up, and we had to run directly into it. The rain had gone in shifts throughout the three hours and some that we were outside, and it seemed like it had just started to pick up and really come down again. And sometime around Mile 17, I just felt done. I didn't have energy left, and I knew the day's finish line wasn't just around the corner. We still had something like 20 minutes of running left, and I didn't envision any possible way my legs could carry me that much longer.

This is where running with the Great Lady Laura comes in handy. Laura ran in the same weather I did, the same distance, and faced the same challenges--actually, arguably many more challenges, since her blog will tell you that she also has to deal with diabetes on top of all of this. And yet, shortly before we hit the 19 mile mark tracked by her GPS watch--shortly before I heard the sweet "beep beep beep!" sound I had been waiting three hours to hear--Laura suggested, "Let's run to 19.1--just in case Lisa [another teammate's] watch was right and we're still a tenth of a mile short." I do not exaggerate when I say that Laura is Great. She's also insane. =)

We hit 19. We kept running. We hit 19.1. We were just a couple blocks away from making it back to the gym that serves as our usual starting and ending point. We walked across the street at my request, then kept running.

We hit 19.2. We finally hit the gym. We hit the water fountain. We had hit the wall, but we'd made it to the other side.

March 20, 2010: The Grinch & Her Whip
Now that I've properly introduced Laura, it's time to give Erin the same proper introduction. Erin is, by all accounts, The Queen of Hills.

Our run for this week was another one with relatively short mileage--just 12 miles, and no team run scheduled. Erin, Laura, and I all met in Arlington to knock out the 12 together, and Erin (also Queen of Plotting) was kind enough to put together a route.

I forget the total number of hills we tackled in the couple of hours we were on the road, but it was more than one. Erin also wisely put the majority of elevation challenges in the second half of our run, to more closely mirror what we'll face in the marathon. Though our schedule would have you believe this was an "easy" run compared to the mileage we face in the Saturdays directly before and after this one, Erin ensured that "easy" would need to be listed in quotation marks when we typed up blog posts about her route. We decided that Erin was The Grinch; Laura and I were Max.

I wish I had a photo of the hill at Porter Street. We came to an intersection at somewhere around Mile 10, I would guess--the point in the run where I'm just out-of-it enough that I'm taking in very little scenery except for what's directly in front of me or has potential to hit me. At the intersection, Erin pointed to the right, and it seemed I was faced with a piece of sidewalk just a few feet away from my head. It wasn't an illusion--the hill was just that steep that the ground rose almost that quickly. Though Heartbreak lasts much longer than Porter Street, it's got nothing on how sharp of a rise Porter presents.

This was also what we called our first summer run--we began just after 2 PM, when sunscreen was warranted and Erin tried out running with a hat to keep the sun out of her eyes. We even stopped for a water break at a convenience store mid-run; between the hills and the warmer weather, it was easy to go through water more quickly than we'd planned.

Though this run went overall very well, the last hill we had to conquer made me break into what Erin termed the "Kelly wants to get this run over with" pace. I have absolutely nothing to prove on hills, but I love/hate them--the "hate" part of me just wants to get them over with as quickly as possible. It was shortly after I put on a bit more speed that Erin gave us all our animal counterparts for running:

My friend at home has already labeled me Kelly Gazelly, so that was taken care of. Kelly = Gazelle. Laura = Wolf. Erin = Bull.

We all get the job done. =)

outlook fame

For any who have not yet seen, an article I wrote about marathon training was featured in my hometown newspaper--on the front page!! Check it out here:

http://www.laureloutlook.com/articles/2010/03/03/news/01kelly.txt

I promise a post about the EPIC 19-miler is on its way, Anonymous commenter...

to whom it may concern

Dear Makers of Athletic Shoes and Clothing,

Not all girls want pink running gear. Many of us don't find the other pastel options a heck of a lot better. Our third choice seems to be black, and while I like the collection of black running clothes I seem to be acquiring, I would prefer not to look like a ninja assassin at *all* times.

Also, these:

are not acceptable.

That said, thank you for creating my royal purple track jacket. It is certainly a step in the right direction.


Sincerely yours,

Kelly
The Mostly Anti-Pink

bizarro 17

Continuing with catching up on long run posts, I'm pleased to present:

February 20, 2010: The Blister Run

If the seventeen-miler of the previous week was day, this run was surely night. If the previous seventeen-miler was white, this run was surely black. If the previous... okay, you get it. The mileage was the only similarity of these consecutive weekend adventures.

We didn't have a team run scheduled for this Saturday, so I met with a few of the usual suspects (Laura and Erin) plus a new addition (my VISTA buddy Becca, training for the Marathon on a different team) in Arlington for our long run.

Route-plotter extraordinaire Erin planned what looked to be an easy run, at least compared to the hills we conquered last week. We had just one hill to climb, and it came early enough in the run that I wasn't worried about it. We would also be on the bike path for most of the remainder of the run, which meant asphault instead of concrete--so much nicer on the legs. This was also one of the only weeks I've been able to tell myself, "I don't need to be concerned about running X miles; I just ran X miles last weekend, and it was fine!" As far as I knew, it would be a comparatively easy long run.

Sometimes, I'm an idiot.

We started out together, and we all conquered Park Hill with little trouble. Laura decided to run a shorter distance than the rest of us, so she left us partway into the run to turn around and run back. (Revealing Laura anecdote: determined athlete that she is, however, she adjusted her return route to include Park Hill once again.)

Erin and I ran together, and Becca jogged ahead at some point because she is, in short, a superstar. Both Erin and I's energy was lacking, so we took the first walk breaks we have ever taken during a long run.

Necessary as the walk breaks were for both of us, my mental block telling me that walking = failure took a toll on my spirit. And that would have been enough to ruin my mood... but then there was my right foot.

Pro Tip: When your running coach tells you, "Buy running shoes that are 1/2 size bigger because your feet will swell when you run," listen to him. Don't buy your normal 7 1/2s because you're afraid the 8s will fall off. As hard as it is for your stubborn self to believe, you don't know running better than your running coach.

And by "you," of course, I mean me.

Unfortunately, I had to learn this lesson the hard way--and though I'm not sure why it didn't happen until this particular 17-mile run, learn the hard way I did. I'm sure the blood blister that formed during this run appeared because my shoes were simply not large enough to contain my swelled feet (gross), and so the side of my foot began to run on my shoe. Part of my problem that day may also have been that I'm still running in regular cotton socks instead of bonafide running socks (another mistake I need to rectify), but the one thing I was sure of was that by the time Mile 10 or so rolled around, I was requesting walking breaks mostly because of my aching feet. Walking on the forming blister still hurt my foot, but running certainly hurt it more.

Slowly, painfully, and with more walk breaks than I would have admitted to you if I'd counted them, we finished. I was never more thankful for a car ride home from Becca, and after walking very gingerly up the steps to my apartment, I cautiously removed my sock to reveal this Thing on the left side of my right foot:


I'm convinced. I will buy size 8s.

the route of some evils

With all my talk of the Boston Marathon course yesterday, I should probably show it to you! Check out the official map here.

The map marks the hateful Heartbreak Hill with its very own broken hearted graphic, but also check out the elevation rise at Mile 16. I specifically remember that climb as well; it's especially tough since few people ever speak of--or more appropriately--warn you about it.

Also, this post has nothing to do with Elvis; I just thought the picture was cute. For indulging me--thank you, thank you very much.

lean mean seventeen

It seems I have managed to take another hiatus from blogging... Time, where dost thou go?

Each of the long runs that have transpired since my last post is worth mentioning, but in order to refrain from trying your patience (and my from straining my typing fingers), I'll reflect on them one post at a time. Chronologically, first up is the long run on Saturday, February 13--the first time I've ever run on the Boston Marathon course! Strap in.

February 13, 2010: 17 Epic Miles on the Boston Marathon Course

According to our schedule, February13's run was supposed to be 16 miles. The previous run had been 15 miles, and up until now, you've probably noticed that we increase a mile at a time. This run, however, was special.

As I understand it, The Children's Hospital here puts on two training runs on the actual Boston Marathon course open to all Charity Runners every year. There's a fee associated with participating ($20 per runner), but it's great practice, and Boston Partners was kind enough to pick up the bill for runners on our team.

With the exception of our first ever long runs in November, I'm not usually nervous about training runs. This is NOT due to courage on my part--just time restraints. The great thing about marathon training taking up so much of your daily life is that you have little time left to stress out about marathon training. But as I said... this run was special.

This was jumping from 15 to 17 miles! This was facing Heartbreak Hill for the first time! And most importantly--this was The Course!

I arrived at the Riverside T-stop with teammates Erin and Laura, both of whom seemed much calmer than I could understand. The folks of The Children's Hospital bussed us to Mile #9 of The Course so that we could run 17-miles instead of 26 and still have the satisfaction of crossing the finish line at Copley Square.

The bus ride generated yet more nerves. Erin and Laura chatted casually in the seats behind them, while I silently stared out the window--watching tired-looking runner after even-more-tired-looking runner ascend the sidewalks by the bus's path. A few of them looked like they were weathering the miles quite nicely, but it was difficult to identify with them in my state of trepidation. I imagined that soon, busses would pass by me and their inhabitants would pick me out as the most haggard and worn of them all--assuming I made it that far, that is.

It didn't help that the trip to Mile 9 seemed to be taking forever.

Nicole, a qualified runner on our team with several Bostons under her belt, once gave the advice never to drive the course of the Boston Marathon--and I like to think I now fully understand why. It. Takes. So. Long. Every minute that passes, you're thinking to yourself, "If it takes this long to drive along this route, how am I ever going to run the thing?!" A teleporter would have been much kinder to my nerves.

We finally arrived to our dropping point, and there was no turning back. Luckily for me at that point, a great cure for nervousness is... well, running. We began.

This is the moment I give mad props (Can I pull off that phrase? I don't think so.) to my mad-prop-worthy running partner, Laura. You may have noticed earlier in this blog that Laura and I both grew up participating in competitive Dr. Mario tournaments with our fathers. This probably explains our similar running styles: try to keep up with the other person, and say nothing when the pace is slightly quicker than you might otherwise run by yourself. Oh yeah--and if there is even an ounce of energy left in a single muscle of your body, sprint the last few yards to the finish line in a not-so-subtle attempt to cross before the other person. Laura always wins. I keep trying. =)

Skipping this part would just be a sin: We conquered Heartbreak Hill. And I am happy to announce that while it was no breeze, Heartbreak was not quite as bad as I envisioned it. (Quick Montana reference here: that could be because I was envisioning something like the Goat Trail at Mystic Lake.) Still, here's the analogy I've come up with for the section of the course almost universally referred to as its most difficult part:

Heartbreak Hill is not the meanest guy you ever dated. Heartbreak Hill is the guy you dated who dumped you at the absolute worst possible moment in your life, when you are--and this was Laura's addition to the analogy--already bruised and battered. That's your beef with Heartbreak Hill.

If Heartbreak reared its head at Mile 2 in the course, I'm convinced that few people would know its name. But since it appears near the end of the run--although it really is not that steep--it really is worthy of its legend. Starting at Mile 9 surely helped us conquer its summit on this particular training run. The day of the Marathon, when are legs are less fresh when we begin our ascension, I have a feeling it will be that much more difficult.

The final big challenge awaiting us after Heartbreak was the last couple of miles through Boston itself. Though this run was an Anxiety-Worthy Epic Event for me, it was just another Saturday for the rest of Boston. It was also a nice day. Saturday + Sunshine = Sidewalk Traffic

Laura and I were both spent by the time we reached the sidewalks of Boston, so fighting through crowds of pedestrians in our mental state at that time was not ideal. At least that's one challenge we won't have to face on Marathon Monday!

Finally, after what seemed like the longest final two miles I have EVER run, we finished. Gasping, we walked ever-so-stiffly to the nearest 7-11 for water and (!!) Coke Zero. I admitted that the only reason I kept the pace that I did was to keep up with Laura--and Laura made the same admission thinking she needed to keep up with me! (See above: Dr. Mario.)

Laura informed me of our completion time, according to her very cool GPS watch: 2 hours, 39 minutes.

Given A) my depleted brain power at that time, and B) the fact that I had never run 17 miles previous to this, that number meant nothing to me. I did some quick mental math and consulted my cell phone calculator to make sense of the number.

2 x 60 = 120
120 + 39 = 159
159 / 17 = 9.35
.35 is roughly equivalent to 1/3
1/3 of 60 seconds is 20 seconds
Holy crap.

Previous to this run, we were both fairly convinced that our pace was very close to 10 minutes per mile. If the cell phone math held up, we just averaged a nine minute, twenty second mile.

Holy crap.

Laura quickly checked our egos by reminding me that her watch stops counting time whenever we stop running--so any time spent at water stops or waiting for a light to turn green was not included in the 2 hr, 39 min total. Nonetheless, at that moment we were two very sore, very tired, but very happy runners.