tender mercies

I just wanted to share some thoughts about Boston while it's still fresh in my mind, since a few people have asked how my family is doing (short answer—they're fine, thanks for asking!).

Yesterday I got a text from Julie inquiring about the state of my family—and since I was in the car, away from the internets and rocking out to power ballads, I hadn't yet heard about what was going on at the finish line and had no idea what she was talking about until she told me that there was an incident at the Boston Marathon finish line. I immediately called my brother in-law Matt, who was at Boston Common with my sister Eliza and their three kids, waiting to meet up with my dad, who was running the race. Matt didn't sound super concerned or anything (Matt is pretty much the most chill person I know, though) and said that they didn't think my dad had crossed the finish line yet because of his slower pace (due to a hip injury—my 68 year-old dad normally runs WAY faster than I do), so I wasn't really worried about the situation and didn't think that anything that crazy had happened. So I continued my errands in ignorant bliss for a little while.

Long story short, the rest of my afternoon consisted of hectic back-and-forth group texts from my family, and the pieces of yesterday didn't really fall into place until I came home that night and I was able to talk to my dad. I was the only one who had talked to Matt, so I was operating under the assumption that things were cool, but no one knew where my dad was and phone access was basically kaput after I had my miracle call with Matt. Then there were the speculative reports flowing in on the radio and the continuous replays of audio from the blast, which started to really get to me after a while. So I spent a lot of time in parking lots, checking Facebook and responding to texts from friends, when I finally heard from my brother, who talked to my mom, who talked to my dad (follow me here?) and confirmed he was okay. But for a while my poor dad had no idea what exactly was going on or if my sister's family was okay, which must have been the worst part—since we all had bits of information but no way to share it with everyone. 

Anyway, this isn't even really my story to tell (my mom tells her side here)—Robbie and I decided at the last minute not to go to Boston this year, and yesterday I was simultaneously feeling very grateful about this turn of events, yet very frustrated that I wasn't there and able to help my sister out and support my dad. But there are so many things about this story that make me appreciate the tender mercies that are supplied to us every day (including our decision not to go, I guess). My dad injured his hip a few weeks before the marathon, and was kind of waffling about going, but decided he'd rather run a slow race and enjoy his 10th Boston anyway. So he was running behind schedule because of about 10 minutes of delays (tender mercy #1) and a slower 10 minute per mile pace due to his injury (tender mercy #2), and was about a mile away from the finish line when everything stopped and the runners were all instructed to leave the course. And last year, when Eliza and I went to cheer on my dad, we opted to walk down Boylston Street and cheer on the finishers instead of heading straight to Boston Common, where we normally meet my dad. Not really that big of a deal since that was last year, but when I heard where the blasts happened I immediately knew that was the route we walked last year and had a brief moment of panic when I didn't know which route Eliza and Matt had taken this year—thank goodness they had the foresight to avoid the crowd this year (tender mercy #3). And—their kids were none the wiser that anything was even wrong (tender mercy #4).

So, that's all I have to say about that. Except—please hold your families close, and call your parents to tell them that you love them.

Also relevant: "If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon"
And, Peter Sagal's eyewitness account, full of his own tender mercies, is definitely worth a read

i'm alive

I was doing really well for a while with keeping you all up to date with my goings-on. Last week was really rough with some late nights at work and I kind of existed outside of myself for a couple of days there. But then this weekend was really great—friends came into town for a visit (more on that later), I gave the house a deep clean, and Robbie and our neighbors did some work in the garden and I just feel like my whole life has been freshly scrubbed. I also bought a pretty $50 lamp at Target for $17 on Saturday night and that has also made my life infinitely happier (kidding/not kidding).

There have been lots of things going on but the most important thing that I did not blog about (and that I actually feel major guilt for not blogging about) is that my dad ran the Boston Marathon last week! Of course, I kept everyone updated mobile-ly (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.) and I need to stop making that my crutch but it is just so easy. But I also love blogging so here it is.

Anyway, I was feeling especially guilty about not having posted yet because my mom, who is my dad's number one supporter, was not able to come to Boston this year, and she is the documenter extraordinaire, AND she is like the best person to go to a marathon with. Seriously, she has marathon-watching down to a science. Eliza, Lars and I made a quick trip up to be the cheerleaders instead, and it was super fun to have a mini-Terrill gathering, but we did miss Mom a lot. One night we were all sitting quietly in Dad's hotel room reading and playing with our various mobile devices and Eliza said, "If Mom were here, we definitely wouldn't have run out of things to talk about." Haha. (Side note—can you tell I am my mother's daughter?)

So here are some pictures from the weekend. We spent Sunday in Cambridge—which was GREAT. We went to church and saw so many old friends (my friend Monique from my study abroad days, my dear American Studies buddy Courtney), then walked a little around Harvard and found some Wagamama (boo yah). And then Monday was the race, where we faced 90ish degrees of sweltering heat. It was horrible. But I don't think anyone died this year, so that's a bonus? Also, it was the 40th anniversary of the year that women were first allowed to officially enter the marathon, which was a great moment to celebrate (see also this most inspiring story about Kathrine Switzer, who illegally entered in 1967 and was almost taken out by a race organizer).

Funny (to me) moments of note—

• Dad making friends in the airport with a guy from Mexico City, and then us taking him to Applebee's for dinner. I just think this is funny because you really can't have a more American experience than eating at an Applebee's in Salem, Massachusetts.
• Not being able to find ANY open grocery stores at 10 pm and my dad pushing a tiny shopping cart around CVS trying to find necessary nourishment for his pre-race ritual (that wasn't very successful but we did score some Ben & Jerry's)
• On race day, walking through a crowded sidewalk next to Eliza, and Lars reaching out from the Ergo and putting his tiny hand on my arm and letting it rest there for like 10 minutes. He just didn't want to lose me. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm his favorite aunt.

like a boss

I finally got my race pictures from a few weeks ago, and they certainly didn't disappoint. I apparently have an affinity for making gestures when I run by a camera:

(I believe that third pose was after I ran by the Titanic memorial on the waterfront—or I'm channeling Corky St. Clair? I am dying.)

Then... the flapping:

Finally, the shrug/scream/nervous girl in front of me:

I have no explanation for any of these, except that running for that long makes you feel a little funny after a while. 

the journey vs. the destination

"The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare" has been the mantra haunting my dreams for the past four years. I wanted to run a marathon again because I felt like I'd cheated myself the first time by just waking up and running 26 miles one very unseasonably cold and rainy day without any preparation. It's a bad idea, guys. BAD IDEA. DON'T DO IT.

That said, waking up and just doing it without any preparation is kind of my M.O. It was my approach to music lessons as a kid, much of college and grad school, other important life events, etc., and the last-minute hurrying, anxiety, and frustration was really beginning to wear on me after a while. So I decided to challenge myself with a marathon—there are arguably easier ways to challenge oneself, but just work with me here. I think in my mind I thought this would be the redeeming run and that I'd do things right. I followed Hal Higdon religiously, I quit sugar for a month, I talked it up to everyone who would listen just to motivate me to actually do it. Robbie was my unofficial coach, giving me a hard time if I tried to sleep in and skip runs, but understanding and helpful when I felt like I was pushing myself too hard.

Last week, I was stressing out about minor aches and pains, the sudden appearance of a cold, and the unseasonably warm weather. I was a ball of nerves the night before the run, but made it to bed early after a carb-loading dinner. I woke up early, I stretched, I meditated (seriously, WHO HAVE I TURNED INTO??), I thought about what was ahead of me. I got to the starting line, put one foot in front of the other, and finished—and it took me just as long as it did the first time.

It was hard. It was really hard! It was hot (so very unseasonably hot), I was dehydrated, and I was alone for the last four miles. I don't remember anything, really, about my 2008 marathon. Even when I read the thoughts I wrote about the experience, I couldn't remember why I was crying, why it was painful, why I swore to myself I'd never run another marathon. But I kept reassuring myself over the past few months that no matter what, I'd be ready, and that I'd be able to beat my 2008 time and somehow redeem myself after that fairly insignificant experience. And I can't lie to you—I was really bummed when Robbie told me my official time (4:49:21). It's not bad—it's really not bad. But I think that I felt like I should have been able to run faster because of my diligence. Maybe I still feel like I deserved better. Oddly enough, I'm getting emotional just thinking about all of this.

But Robbie and Eliza, who met me at the finish line, reminded me again and again that the hours it took to run on Saturday were so incredibly insignificant compared to the hours I spent preparing for that run. I sacrificed sleep, comfort, and the use of the right side of my body (temporarily) after I tripped and fell at the beginning of one of my runs (that was a sad day), and I have physical reminders of all the work I did (i.e., the massive scar on my hip from the aforementioned fall). I studied for the test—I didn't cram. I felt prepared. In this case, the journey—the 16 weeks of blood, sweat, and tears—was far more important than the 26.2 mile destination.

In the end, I'm proud of myself. Things are better this time around than they were four years ago—I'm not wincing every time I sit down, I'm walking without a limp. The preparation paid off in ways that I'm grateful for now. But heaven help us if I ever do another marathon.

it's always darkest before the dawn

I don't have much to talk about lately other than my upcoming race (SATURDAY!! AHH!!!). And let's be honest—it's pretty much the only thing on my mind right now. I have sufficiently psyched myself out—have I trained enough? am I eating the right food? is it normal to feel like I'm running with bricks in my shoes?

Don't answer that.

Anyway, one of my favorite running pastimes is putting together a playlist of music to listen to while I'm running. I love music, I sometimes love running, it only makes sense that they should go hand in hand. I've got my music mixology down to a science—the burst of energy for intro, the slow buildup, the climax, and the eventual end of the run. I have songs for all running occasions. Short runs, long runs, runs that turn into walks because you're over it... you name it! This makes the whole thing worthwhile for me. If you end a run on a good song, well, it's like you're walking/running on sunshine.

I also believe that the iPod can do lots of the work for you, with a little help from the music gods. The anticipation of finding out the song that's going to come next is so exciting. (Please let me be a dork about this—I realize it all looks very silly written out.) And it seems that my shuffle knows when to play the right songs. My favorite song to end on is "All These Things That I've Done" by the Killers and about 80% of the time, that's where the shuffle takes me. All you need to do is watch this video to understand why this is the best song to push you to the finish line:

Did I just cry a little? Sure did. I'll probably watch it a dozen more times before the race just to sufficiently prepare for my Prefontaine-esque dash across the finish line.

Moving on.

I like to divide my songs into genres. Generally speaking, my favorites consist of the "beat so intense you feel like someone is chasing you in a movie" genre, the "anthem" genre, and the "why don't I just stop on this corner and dance instead?" genre. (I often throw in a couple of songs from the "songs too slow to run to but they have a motivational beat and/or lyrics" genre, but sometimes that slows me down.) Combine these three and you've got the most fun run you've ever been on.

I do have good intentions to post my Ultimate Playlist someday. (I know I keep promising, I'm just a jerk—and I don't really know how to share music without posting YouTube videos?) In the meantime, I'll leave you with my recent favorite running song—the perfect combination of inspiration and hot beats to get me through a long run:

In closing, I'd like to say thank you for humoring me by reading this post (if you actually did). I'm sure it was completely boring to some (most) people. Also, please tell me your best running and/or motivational song, because I'm always accepting submissions.

and i could take away the shaking knees

My marathon training schedule. I know it looks like I've skipped tons of runs, but since November I've logged almost 200 miles (woop woop!).

For the past few months I've been training for a marathon. (26 miles for 26 years? I didn't plan it that way but that's cute.) I had it in my mind after my last sorry attempt at a marathon that I'd never do it again. Maybe this is how people who go through labor feel about having babies again? (I'm not going to try and pretend to relate to that.) Running can be simultaneously agonizing and spiritual, but I truly love the thrill of the race—the anticipation at the start before the gun goes off, the people cheering on the sidelines—it's all pretty awesome.

So here I am, yet again, signed up for a marathon on St. Patrick's Day—just under two weeks away! This time I signed up to run on behalf of Back on My Feet DC, which is a nonprofit organization that helps homeless individuals get, you know, back on their feet. The organization works with homeless shelters, where members team up with volunteers to run at 5:45 am three times a week. Runners with 90% attendance get access to job training, housing opportunities, and in general are building their self-esteem and keeping themselves off the streets.

I ran with a group of BoMF runners this past Saturday morning, and the participants kind of blow my mind. By the time I showed up to meet the runners at Union Station, it was windy and pouring rain. But runners and volunteers kept trickling in—even though Saturday runs aren't mandatory—until we had a dozen or so runners ready to go. I was greeted with hugs and handshakes from people I had never seen before in my life. One of the runners was standing close to another volunteer and I realized that they were both holding onto a circle of rope—the runner was blind! I read about that runner (a recovering drug addict) when I got home—you can read his story here. We started our workout with warm-up exercises led by one of the runners, and closed with a group circle where a member led the team in the serenity prayer and a cheer. They all just looked so happy and ready to go—not one complaint about the rain from anyone—that I momentarily forgot about my discomfort and remembered all the things I do have (a house! a job! my vision!), and it just didn't really matter any more that I was tired and sore and about to run 14 miles in the pouring rain.

I guess all of this is to say that I'm really grateful to everyone who has donated to my goal amount so far. I thought it was important to share my experience with everyone, just so that they know that their money and generosity has gone toward a really great cause. I've hit 89% of my goal in just two weeks! I'm really just amazed by the goodness of people that I know—and of the people who donated that I have never met before. Seriously, I can't thank you enough.

**If you'd like to chip in for the last home stretch, you can check out my donation page here.**

race photos: a retrospective

Moab 2006

Moab 2007

Moab 2008

St. George 2008

Hot Chocolate 15K, 2011

You like that? You want more?

It is pretty much impossible for me to not look totally ridiculous in race photos. This most recent one is from this past weekend. All you need to know about how terrible the race was can be found here. 

As you can see, the pictures definitely get progressively MORE ridiculous over the years, which is not helped by my sister wife braid and my obvious enthusiasm for this song being the one to conclude my race mix. Which reminds me, one of these days I'm going to have to share my ideal running mix with you, but I leave you with my general rule of thumb—if you can't dance to it, you probably can't run to it, which might explain my pose in those pictures.

26.2

I just got back from a short trip to Boston to celebrate my dad's participation in his seventh Boston Marathon. We spent some QT with my parents and my sister and her family, plus we got to see some of the sights, which was fun—I hadn't been to Boston before. Also, as I may have mentioned twenty times to anyone who has asked, we took a nine-hour Megabus ride to Boston from DC and it only cost us a dollar each. You can't beat that.

Anyway, it was a beautiful day for a marathon. The weather was PERFECT—sunny and in the low 60s with a nice tailwind. The tailwind was more for the benefit of the runners and not the spectators. Spring hasn't really sprung in New England yet, so those of us coming from warmer climates were ill-prepared for the other days of our visit that were frigid and windy. So thanks, weather, for cooperating today. I love watching races and I love it even more when I am comfortable. AND—my dad ran past Team Hoyt! I am really bummed we didn't stick around long enough to see them on the course, but I'm happy knowing that they were there. They were my favorite billboard on I-15.

We got to catch my dad at the 16 mile mark, which was a lot of fun, then we braved the crowds downtown and met up with him at the Boston Commons. Today's race was especially exciting because the world record was broken, which is pretty crazy considering that Boston's course isn't really easy. These are things you're probably only interested in if you are a marathon enthusiast so I'll stop there.

I really should go to bed. Due to poor planning on our behalf, I flew home by myself while Robbie drove home with my sister. I'm glad I didn't have to sit in a cramped car for nine hours, and I was supposed to come home and get straight to work on a presentation I have tomorrow, but I'm blogging instead. But at least I have a clean conscience about how clean and tidy my house is from cleaning it last Wednesday before we left—it smells like geraniums.

Anyway, yay Dad! Glad we could come watch you and spend some time with the fam. Now, time for bed.

A day at the races

Richmond was lovely. Lovely, lovely. Last year we stayed out in the 'burbs and it was cold and gray, so I don't remember loving it so much. Saturday gave us sun and 68 degrees! It was great for spectators, probably not so great for runners. Dave and Diane (Robbie's parents) were happy with the sun, because even though Robbie and I have been rejoicing that the weather has been in the 60s, it's still a bit chilly for the Tucson-dwellers.

Anyway, we had a tasty carb-loading experience at Bacchus the night before, we drove up and down Monument Avenue and guessed how much the gorgeous houses were selling for (we confirmed our guesses with Robbie's Zillow app), and we stayed in a cute inn (which I just found out is haunted?) that was really close to the start and finish line. The lady that ran the breakfast room was pretty sassy and awesome—her name was (I kid you not) LaToya Allspice. Welcome to the Souf.

We had a lot of time to kill between the time we finished breakfast and the time Robbie was aiming to finish, so we just walked along the race route, cheering for the runners and enjoying the weather. And enjoying the cowbell lady:

She was great. She had something nice to say about everybody. "1182, keep it up! 1273, you're almost there! 804, you are looking GOOD!" Conclusion: I am buying a cowbell for my next race.

 

Diane loved the fall colors.

Oh hey, marathon winner, coming in at a cool two hours and twenty minutes. (Which is considered slow. Geez, people.)

Robbie!

Isn't Robbie cute? I won't be mad if you tell me that you think he is. Especially with his hair in that first picture.

The front of the inn—it used to be ten residences.

The view from one of the many porches! One thing I love about Southern living is the abundance of porches. Sigh.

More porch in the cute courtyard.

And a porch is no good unless you have a rocking chair to enjoy it. They had every angle covered.

Before Robbie took his ice bath. He said it felt good. (I don't believe him.)

Robbie's parents and I were standing on the same corner for so long that one of the race organizers came up to us and said, "You've been standing here for a really long time and cheering! Here are some race pins." Thanks, race organizer.

The ride home was gorgeous too. Diane can tell you all about it—she had her camera out for the whole two-hour drive and left no tree unphotographed. (Not an exaggeration.)

It was a great trip. We live by so many cool places that I'm glad we get to take breaks like this from time to time. AND we ran into friends from our old ward (who also ran last year), and my lovely friend Danielle (who was cheering on her boyfriend). Richmond brings everyone together.

Running man

We're off to Richmond today! Robbie is running the Richmond marathon (again) and I'll be cheering him on with my in-laws, who have been in town for the past few days. Should be fun, except Robbie thinks he's not Boston-ready this year after a couple of injuries have thrown him off. But we're always up for a weekend adventure, and we're excited to show Dave and Diane the beautiful fall colors of southern Virginia.

Cross your fingers for him!

You're so vain

Yesterday I decided I would go running. I haven't run in like five months. I get tired of it, I get busy, I forget that running is hard even though I like it most of the time... you know the drill. And I didn't decide to start up again for a good reason or anything, like for my health. The reason I decided I wanted to run again was because at REI on Saturday, there was a girl working there with amazing legs. I don't usually notice things like nice legs (especially not on other women) but good grief. I almost asked her what she did for her workout but I decided that was creepy and that if she told me that she did anything other than run 1 mile a day I probably wouldn't do it anyway.

Anyway, it wasn't disgustingly hot yesterday, Robbie wasn't home, and I didn't have any homework so I decided to have at it. And I ran from our house (a couple blocks behind the Capitol) to right in front of the Capitol (I think that's less than a mile) before I felt like I was going to puke and started walking instead. And by this point the humidity was relentless and I was sweating like I had just finished a marathon. So I thought, "well, it's a nice day for a walk, I'll just walk the route I was going to run" until I realized that I'd have to walk all the way back home because there was no way I was going to start running again. So I just turned right around and made the long walk of shame back down the Mall, where hundreds of interns playing kickball and softball watched me shuffle along where I had just been confidently running.

Oh well. The view was nice.


Lesson learned: vanity only makes you nauseous. Also, as obnoxious as it is, "Rock Lobster" is a nice addition to my running playlist. Who knew?

A day at the races

I'm back!!


I have so much to report on, JUST AS I PROMISED! Did you miss me? Because I missed you. No, seriously. I'll never forsake you again.

The biggest event this weekend was... the National Marathon. (Half for me, full for Robbie.) It was so much fun! I finished in 2:07, which isn't my worst time, but about 20 minutes off my best. Saddies. But that's what I get for not training. Actually, I blame getting sick and then not training for a few days, because I was on a roll for a while there. (Also I blame having to metro in at 5 am. I was so tired.) I finished a few minutes ahead of the winner of the marathon, which is a little pathetic. BUT... it was a beautiful day to be outside and to be running through the city. I still had my long-sleeved top on at mile 2 and I got really hot, so I tried to take off my bib number (front and back) and pin it onto my tank top while I was running. And... success! I even managed to get off my iPod case and get it back on my arm without stopping. I am awesome. (Even though the people around me probably thought I was going to stab myself with a safety pin when I pinned my back bib.)

Eliza and her kids were there at the end, which was quite a surprise (I wasn't sure if they'd be able to make it on time since it's such a long metro ride from their house), and as I rounded the corner and saw Eliza cheering for me, tears of joy welled up in my eyes. Really. Seeing everyone throughout the course cheering for OTHER people was a little depressing but it was so nice to have my sister there at the end.


Robbie did such a great job. He was aiming for 3:10 (the qualifying time for Boston) but came in at 3:13. He's happy though, since he got really sick last week (oops) and it was such a hot day for a race. Also--he was 123rd overall in a race of 2500 people. Beat THAT!


The course was a lot of fun to run through. Robbie said that when he was running near Florida Ave. (kinda ghetto and scary) there was a guy with a sign that said "IF YOU LIVED HERE YOU'D BE RUNNING FASTER." Pretty awesome.

I'm totally recruiting anyone and everyone who wants to run it with us next year. If you're not into the half or full, they also have a relay! Any takers?