Selfie-Affirmation

Why I "SELFIE"


In my narcissistic, non-scientific, and self-aggrandizing opinion, I have come to the conclusion that the act of taking a daily "selfie" can help a person be in constant practice of self-affirmation. There are indeed many people who have jumped off the deep-end, snapping photos of their mostly naked selves with oddly puckered lips in that most glamorous of odorous places, the loo. But there are also many folks who do it just because they wish to share the incredible joy of their experiences with friends and family. 
I selfie every day that I run or do something that challenges my big, strong body. Sometimes I am alone, and other times I am with a group of people, both new friends and old. Sometimes I am in the midst of a particularly challenging exploit, and I will take a photo to remind myself that what I am doing is supposed to be hard, and I am actually doing it. I want my circles of family and friends to know what I've been up to, and how I look, even when the photo is not at all flattering. I want them to know that if there is something that inspires and motivates them, that they should do it and snap photos of themselves doing that difficult thing, too. 

The process of/road to self-acceptance and self-love is a long one, and one that requires a commitment to loving yourself (and spreading that love to others) no matter how you perceive yourself that moment, day, or year. 

The puritanical practice of self-devaluation and self-deprecation at the expense of a healthy sense of self (but not overblown ego) is obsolete and useless for our times. This is not to say that we shouldn't love others, rather, in order to love others, we must love ourselves first. This is especially important as women. It is a dangerous thing to be completely self-less. What will you have to give if you have not given anything to yourself? A quick photo doesn't cost the money of therapy or lipo, so I choose this. Why NOT present ourselves in the way we want to be presented? We might actually start believing that we are as awesome as our pics suggest.

I also selfie to remind myself that although I still have a long way to go in my quest for overall physical, spiritual, and mental health, I'm doing OKAY right now. I am satisfied if a little impatient with my progress, but overall content.

Along with the selfies I post on Facebook, I usually post a pic of where I am so that others can appreciate the natural beauty of where I get to live out my life. It is gorgeous where I live in Georgia, and it is also beautiful in the places that I have been fortunate to run in. This, for me, is my most humble (and technologically savvy) expression of gratitude for being able to simply be myself and no one else. Being able to record the awesomeness of living, and what life has given me is a gift that I hope to pay-forward with the joy that I hope is expressed in my photos. Of me.

Zaftig Sisters, Dress Your Curves (And Then RUN)

Coming Downhill at the Nanthala Hilly Half Marathon-Photo by Martin Kratzer  Nike Long Sleeved Top, UA Compression Capris, RRS Drymas Socks, Altra Olympus Shoes, Nathan Vapor Cloud Hydration Pack, MC Maia Bra   

 

Many of us larger ladies have some issues finding workout clothing that is 1) comfortable and 2) does not make us feel (or look) like a link of brats that is about to explode, or a bear in a big, ugly tent.  This is a major conundrum that must be dealt with or it might cause us to have an excuse to not get out there and be badass as we should be doing everyday.

I have had constant issues with finding comfortable, non-pinching and cinching outfits that make me feel and look good. When you can wear something that feels awesome on you, you kind of exude awesomeness. Although compared to say, 10 years ago, the offerings have increased a hundred-fold, but there are still not enough retailers and designers who keep us curvy folks in mind when creating beautiful, functional, and sport-specific lines of clothing. I would love to be able to pop into Lululemon (you know, the brand that isn't made for our bodies) and magically fit into some oh-so-beautiful-sleek-and-form-fitting-compression-tights and jackets but apparently that is not going to happen anytime soon, or ever.

Some companies have made a concerted effort to provide affordable and flattering sports clothing for us-Old Navy, Champion and some big name brands like Adidas and Nike are the first that come to mind--but I have found that the durability of those products is not on par with their contemporaries. Do they expect us not to jump up and down, or move? Do they know that things jiggle and cause pants and shirts and to bunch up, fall down, get stuck under my tummy, and/or cause wedgies? DON'T THEY KNOW?

I made the decision a while back to embrace my curves, wear form-fitting workout clothing that actually fits, and to look at myself in the mirror every single day and think at least one positive thought. This has made me appreciate my body in clothes. But it takes the right clothes--you know, pieces that don't look like you're in a parachute, or hot air balloon....or in jail--to achieve this.

So the point of this post is--

Do yourself a huge favor and go out and get yourself some high quality workout gear. You'll be thanking yourself forever when you invest in yourself. You are already running, spinning, walking, lifting weights, skipping, doing bootcamp, lifting your kids, having sex (definitely an athletic endeavor!), working, etc...

Here's what I wear these days, both on runs and during plyometrics, lifting weights, and yoga. I hope that this will help you think about how making the right-for-you athletic clothing choices will contritbute to you feeling sexy, say when you're doing three sets of a hundred jumping jacks in a room full of chiseled bootcampers...

Bras: The absolute most important piece of attire. You may NOT buy a crappy bra. So, Champion and Ulta are out ladies, unless maybe you're an A cup, or the type that doesn't really need a heavy duty bra.  Do you like wearing two or three bras all at once? I certainly don't. After three years of wearing two bras plus a tank with a shelf bra, I made the move to Moving Comfort Bras. If you have bigger hooters like I do (I fluctuate between a D and DD), go out and buy one RIGHT NOW! Depending on the intensity of movement I'm anticipating, I wear either the Juno, Maia, or Jubralee models. They have them both in normal colors and in more, er, fun colors. These are the only sports bras I will wear, until Nike or Under Armour make really amazing bras that will last more than 20 washes.

Bottoms: I love compression shorts and compression tights. I love that they are form-fitting. I love my thighs and my calves (on most days) and I show them the love by showing them off. Perhaps this is a bit narcissistic, but I'm OK with that. Compression bottoms are pretty much all I wear during all of the seasons. There is one caveat, however. Because my thighs are thick, I have to simply accept that the shorts or tights will, at some point, RUB OUT. This is sad for several reasons. When I find a pair that I love and that I feel good in, I wear them frequently, and then they rub out. When they rub out, say during a race, there will be some nasty and painful chafing. Also, the good ones may be pricey. So these (and shoes) will likely be the most expensive pieces in your running outfits.

I've had tremendous success with Brooks Infiniti tights (even though you may have to reinforce the inner-thigh seams with another seam of your own) and Under Armour Coldgear and Hotgear. In the summer, I usually wear some version of Road Runner Sports compression shorts, but these items tend to lose shape rather quickly, and can feel somewhat loose compared to other brands. However, they don't ride up unless they're past their prime, and the waist isn't overly tight and pinching. These items are made specifically for runners.  

And here's a little secret: as a bigger lady with a little bit of a shelf-butt, I usually buy the male versions. They tend not be be low-rise or that other version of low-rise which is "mid-rise", they cover up my bum, and my legs, tummy, and everything else that needs not to be jiggling about when I'm running is held in place. Sure, there may be a little bit more fabric in the front than I'm used to in my normal clothing, but hey, a little air-conditioning never hurt anybody... The truth is, no one notices unless they're looking at your crotch. If it feels good on you, and helps you to achieve your goal, then it's worth it.

I have not yet found a comfortable, durable, pair of women's compression bottoms besides the above (maybe except for Moving Comfort's 7.5-inch compression shorts that run up to a 2X) that don't pinch my waist severely and display a hideous super-sized banana nut muffin-top, show the crack, or start inching down when I start to walk or run and then get stuck under my front love handle. This may not be the case for you, but is worth experimenting with clothes that fit, feel comfortable, and do the job whether they are marketed to men or women. Make sure that when you try anything on in a store, jump up and down, run, stretch, and contort your body in various ways to ensure that the fit works for you and your activities. No one ever wants to be surprised that the awesome deal you got on clearance at Kohl's actually is extra-low cut and see-through...that is, unless that's what you were going for.

Tops: I haven't bought a top in a MINUTE. If you do enough cool races (and you should, especially trail-races) you will probably never have to "buy" a shirt again. I have accrued enough short and long-sleeved technical tees to last several lifetimes. Some are better than others, though. If you must purchase, I'm partial to The North Face tees, just because they look AWESOME and make you feel like you're training to summit Everest, feel great on the skin, and wick away moisture as if sweat were a fleeting thought.  If you can, avoid pure cotton at all costs. Just do.

If you haven't collected dozens of t-shirts yet (and you will), Under Armour, New Balance, Gap Body, Nike, Adidas, and many other retailers make wonderful tops for the Rubenesque consumer. I personally don't like to look like a military tank or football player, so I usually go with something form-fitting or just slightly looser so I don't feel as though I'm suffocating while trying to catch my breath during a bear crawl. Remember shoulder pads? Nuff said. I also don't want all my stuff falling out and getting in the way.

Shoes: You must get fitted for a good shoe. If you are able, get yourself to a running store (and I'm not speaking of a regular athletic goods store whose employees are trying to get you to buy the most expensive pair of KDs and skater shoes.) Get a gait analysis, and then buy what's comfortable and affordable, perhaps the same or similar model on Zappos, Amazon, or Road Runner Sports, Running Warehouse or The Clymb. If you have big feet like I do (depending on the make of the shoe, I might wear an 11 or 12 women's) there are many clearance outlets and discount places like Marshalls and Nordstrom Rack that will carry our sizes. All it takes is some research. 

Another confession: I usually buy men's shoes. They just seem to fit better and last longer. That may not be what works for you, so find something that does. I currently alternate the following shoes on a daily basis: Mizuno Wave Inspire, Mizuno Wave Ascend, and Altra Olympus. Also, if you only have one pair of running shoes, it's important to save them for running. Try to stay away from wearing them to work (unless you're a cross-country/track coach, Shalane or Meb.)

Socks: Stay away from cotton and cheap polyester. Period. Unless you want blisters or extra smelly feet, invest in some quality running socks. I like the ones that have a little extra padding on the heel, arch snugness, and no bells and whistles. That's my personal preference. My current favorite running socks are Feetures. They have the right amount of everything and when you put them on, you will exhale. Promise. The other socks that I wear are Road Runner Sports Dry Max socks.

Caps and visors: I wear both, particularly when it's sunny and warm. Running caps typically have a sweat band on the inside of them and have breathable tops. I haven't found a pair of sports shades that I like hanging out on the bridge of my sweaty nose for hours on end, so until then it's a cap or a visor.

Underwear: No cotton. I've found that Gap Body, Hanes and Bali make really good stretchy but firm underwear that doesn't chafe your private areas during a long, sweaty workout. There's no need to go out and buy a special workout or activity panty unless you don't mind shelling out a wad of cash for one pair. Again, stay away from cotton if you can. Because chafing. That's all.

Most Important: Find what works for you. All of the above has worked for me over the past 5 years or so. I've been able to enjoy the journey so much more being comfortable with what I'm wearing. If jeans and high-heels are your thing on a 6 mile leisurely run, then GO FOR IT! If you dig baggy sweats and pasties on a trail run, DO IT. Get out there and feel fabulous in your own skin and be a superstar no matter what you have on!

The Beginning Of It All

I  started running for the very first time in high school while I was playing field hockey and lacrosse. I went to a boarding school in Westchester County where most everyone played sports. (The few who didn't had mandatory PE!!) I was excited to join a team since I had never had an opportunity to be on one in public school in Brooklyn. My friend KC and I chose to go out for field hockey, since we had looked over at the soccer tryouts in horror while their crazy coach was having them do 10 laps of the field, just to warm up!

We both looked at each other and made an instant but silent decision to try out for field hockey, since 1. we were closer to the field, and 2. they didn't appear to be running much at all. It looked a little like golf. We could definitely do this. Neither of us knew anything about the sport or what would actually be required of us. So naively, we shuffled over to the Field Hockey field, which looked to be shorter than the soccer field (score!). Plus, there was a woman coach--those were all good signs, right?

WRONG. After doing a couple of laps around the field 9 (I nearly died after every loop), we did a timed mile. I had NO IDEA what running a mile felt like since I had never had to run, for anything. (Childhood tag on city streets doesn't count and I'll talk about fence races another time.) That first mile ever was probably the most difficult physical thing I had ever done in my life. It consisted of 2 loops of the very hilly campus. The start of each loop was a short downhill followed by a rolling course around campus. The finish of each loop was a steady uphill until you turned into one of the school's main driveway, where even the stupid speed-bumps made me tired and angry.

My mile time was around 15 minutes--much of which I was walking and huffing and puffing and dying. When you have no idea of what a running a mile is like, or how long it is, or that a mile is like running from your block in Brooklyn to a block in another faraway neighborhood (like running from northern Bushwick to Bed-Stuy, for example), you believe you are going to be running/walking forever. I was disappointed to be the penultimate person, but ecstatic not to be the last that very humid, late summer day in the Hudson Valley.

After the mile-run debacle, practice started. We sprinted lengths of the field with and without our sticks, we practiced dribbling and driving field-hockey style, ran some more lengths of the field, practiced flicking the ball, and other field-hockeyish things.   KC and I were also introduced to the concept of the suicide, which on a basketball court might not be so bad, but on a FIELD HOCKEY FIELD was like someone pulling you from the sweet confines of restful death into purgatory over and over and over again. Two hours later I both couldn't feel my legs, my back, my neck AND then an hour later felt them very, very much.

What had we gotten ourselves into? How had we made this huge and STUPID mistake? Why was everyone better than us? How were these girls running up and down the field like it was second nature? They weren't even tired. KC and I were both kids from the city; she grew up in the Bronx and I had the honor of being born and raised in the borough of all boroughs, Brooklyn.

After the first week of practice, we still weren't accustomed to the demands of playing a sport everyday, let alone for two and a half hours a day. We endeavored to do better and decided that we would practice running so that we wouldn't suck so much at the sport.

This desire to be better took the form of early morning runs on the field of just a mile because that, we decided, was what was holding us back. So we practiced doing the 6 loops of the field hockey field, with its freshly cut grass and wild onion aroma. We stopped and started. Started and stopped. Bent over, breathless and chest heaving. We then would have to walk back up a humungous hill back to the dorms so we could limp into the showers before a much welcome breakfast.

At some point during the fall season KC and I started being able to run the warm-up loops continuously without stopping. We were able to dribble around the field without gasping for air. We could withstand the 2.5 hours of practice without keeling over face down. We could even make it through the rest of our typical boarding school evening--dinner, study hall, and socializing without being narcoleptic. That, my friends, is progress.

KC and I at our senior tea, after having survived years of field hockey

The other thing that kept us going was simply being a part of a team and knowing that if we got better, if we worked on stuff, the team would also get better. During breaks, our coaches asked us to keep working out, and to try to run everyday. This was my first foray into running for the sake of running. I would don my best "workout" clothes, cotton and all. I mean, who knew? Into the front pocket of my heavy sweatshirt would go my SONY Walkman stocked with a cassette tape with a combination of Whitney Houston, Sade, and Simon and Garfunkel. (Later on in my high school career, it would be Puccini, Special Ed, and Indigo Girls.
Go figure.)


I would start timidly at first, because NO ONE in my neighborhood ran unless they were playing tag or stickball or racing up and down the block. People would stare a little and then go back to what they were doing. I would run up my street until it ended at a public school track CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC. Then I would circle the perimeter of the track, and continue on my street until it ended at a cemetery, and then I would be brazen and run through that. It wasn't until last year that I figured out the mileage of those runs back in the day. At the most, I ran 2, maybe 3 miles. Still, it felt epic back then. Just EPIC.

How freeing. How absolutely liberating! Especially in the confines of the grids of the real North Brooklyn, not today's hipster North Brooklyn. No hard feelings, guys......

This was when I discovered what running really was. To be able to move my body JUST BECAUSE was a pretty awesome feeling. That feeling continues today.

Why Running or Walking In The Woods Is Bad For You

Running in the woods is beyond all reason; it is potentially dangerous and life-altering. It simply shouldn't be done and this is why:

You may sweat. This is outright disgusting. SHOWER? WHERE'S THE SHOWER? WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP HANDING ME THIS DR. BRONNER'S STUFF AND WHY IS IT SO MINTY?

You may step in mud. WHAT IS THIS ICKY, GROSS DISGUSTINGNESS THAT IS RUINING MY UGGS?

You may lose bars on your cellphone. You may even be unable to text or Instagram for the eternity that is an hour or two. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. 

There may be hills and your legs may become tired. NO ONE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A HILL AND ANYWAY THAT'S WHAT THE GYM IS FOR.

You may find it necessary to cross a stream and wet your UGGs. NOOOOOOO!

You might breathe in air that is filled with an unmistakable scent of damp dirt, which may be frightening or disconcerting, particularly if you've never smelled it before. This may cause deeper inhalations, a clearer head, and a slower pace. MY MIND IS...EMPTY.

You may come across a piece of trash and this will, inexplicably, make you very angry and petulant.

Your heart may flutter. IS THIS A HEART ATTACK?

You may start reciting Robert Frost poems. WHOSE WOODS THESE ARE....

You may experience absolute solitude. NOPE. WHERE MY PEOPLE AT???

You may never want to leave. So dangerous. Don't do it.

You might not return to your office job, ever. 

You may discover that your body is quite the efficient machine that keeps surprising you, hour after hour. NOPE. NOT POSSIBLE. I DID NOT JUST DO THAT.

You may experience pure, unadulterated pleasure. WHAT IS THIS...FEELING?

You may encounter various non-humans. These non-humans may cause you to discover that humans are not the only species on this planet and in fact, we must share.

You may encounter yourself. 

o trusty tread, an ode

o trusty tread
great friend o' mine
thou art
when dirty
treacherous ice
on my road sticks
you are, in your sturdy
machine-ness, there
to move
my legs, feisty and
restless

though the world hates
you as if you
were sloth
you are not,
o trusty tread
trust, me.

though you are not grass
or rock or stream
you do not
pretend to be.
a job it is, you do
for me.

so thank
you.


by fatgirlrunning

So We Moved To Appalachia

In April of 2013, I made the big decision to move the family from our very comfortable digs in New Jersey to the North Georgia Mountains. For this native Brooklynite who had tried Maryland once but moved back North because Baltimore seemed too southern, this came as a shock to nearly everyone I know. YOU'RE MOVING WHERE? THE SOUTH? GEORGIA? Yeah, but in the mountains. THERE ARE MOUNTAINS IN GEORGIA? WHAT???

We packed up our apartment at one boarding school in lush and beautiful Central New Jersey, and headed down South to our new boarding school in the North Georgia Mountains. (Ok, it didn't happen that quickly-I stayed at my parents' in Brooklyn for the summer and did this, this, and this!) The day after my son got home from camp, which was coincidentally the same day that I did my last NJ Trail Series Race (Wildcat Ridge Romp-a must do), we got in the car and drove 15 hours to our new home.

We live in the part of Georgia that is surrounded by the gently (and severely) sloping old-soul Appalachians. There is a certain air of mystery that pervades the area-it's palpable even. Summer mornings can be quite foggy, and then the most beautiful and bright sunlight breaks through the mist revealing the most sweet and cantankerous appendages of the earth.

Part of what lured me to the South, because NOTHING ELSE WOULD as a born-and -bred New Yorker (ok, maybe the job offer did, a little...), were the mountains and the possibility of trail upon trail upon trail. It was always my intention to end up in the Adirondacks, in New York State. Ever since my first public school outing to those mountains, I have been hooked. Okay, so I'm not in my home state, but I am in the mountains which happen to be in Georgia, and they are scary, beautiful, enveloping, and comforting.

Each mountain, hill, valley, knob boasts a particular character. One may be forgiving, the other strict and unyielding. One may be quiet and unassuming, the other bossy and loud.  The wonderful thing about all of them is that they are all at my doorstep. Do I want to run a steep and windy road? Step out the door. Do I crave some gnarly, technical trail? Run a quarter of a mile down the road, enter trail.  Do I want to summit the highest mountain east of the Mississippi? Done.

After a fairly difficult transition period (including a bout of a weird Lyme Disease-like sickness), we are now nicely settled in a house that faces the eastern ridges of the Appalachians. Most mornings I am up early enough to watch the sunrise from my front windows (when it's -6 degrees out like, this ENTIRE winter), my front porch, or while I'm out engaging in my life-giving and -affirming early morning runs.

There are two serious negatives. I am far away from my family. For someone who is pretty well-traveled and has spent tons of time away from home (as in boarding school and then college) it has been really difficult to have to drive twelve hours just to see family. Now, I'll just have to settle for thru-hiking the AT, and visit them that way, because apparently that is an expectation if you are even remotely outdoorsy down in these parts. The other negative (ok, maybe this one is not so serious-but it is, I swear!) is that NOTHING IS FLAT. NOT A DARNED THING! Even the hallway where my classroom is located is sloped. Yep, I have moved to a no-flat zone and it's taking its toll on my legs, heart, and ego!

Running-wise, moving to Georgia has been a gift. I was afraid it would be difficult to meet new runner-friends, but is has been really easy, and I've even been able to convince some walkers that walking was boring and that they should be running! I've been fortunate to assistant-coach the cross country team, running twice a day most days in the cool mornings and scorching afternoons. 

I get to run by expansive cow-grazing fields, corn fields, evergreen forests, old-growth forests, lakes, rivers. I get to climb over cow-gates, run in snowstorms, do burpees in the mud, and challenge my own perceptions of what it means to be alive, and well. 

I have much to learn about Georgia. The people, the customs, the culture, the ethos. Running here has brought me closer in an organic way to the birth-state of my maternal grandmother. It has deepened my spirit of adventure and has proven that stepping or running out of the box has great rewards. For that, I am grateful.

You Can Call Me 5 Chainz: MCM 2013 Race Report

This name was given to me by a student who thought it was appropriate since I am now the proud owner of 5 marathon medals.

So on Tuesday October 29, when I waltzed (I mean, shuffled-grimacing every step) into class wearing my newest bling, some of my students still hadn't grasped the notion of running a marathon. "Wait, so you ran how many miles?" Or, "Why would anyone run that much?" "How long did THAT take?" When I said 6 hours and 24 minutes, the response was "WOW! What was the winner's time?" When I told them that the winner ran the race in two hours and 21 minutes some gasped and asked "Is that even possible?" We then got into a discussion about how one trains for a marathon, why (again) anyone would want to run so much, why would I drive 9 hours to (again) run so much, and well, did you take pictures of any hot marines?

Training

How did I train for MCM 2013? I ran a bunch but I didn't get in as many 16 mile+ runs as I had wanted during the 7 or so weeks preceding the marathon. I moved to Northern Georgia from New Jersey at the end of the summer, and although it was the move I was meant to make, changing venues came with its own set of challenges, like mountains and really serious hills (oh, and adjusting to a completely different lifestyle and schedule.)

I ended up doing only 1 full 20 miler 3 weeks before preceded by a 17.5, 15 and 13. Over the summer I managed to get a 23 mile run in, but that was really early on so it doesn't really count as a training run.

Fortunately, I got in a lot of my weekday runs with the cross country team that I assistant-coach. Many times I did two-a-days, running 2-4 miles in the mornings, and 2-3 miles in the hot Georgia afternoons. I cross-trained a lot, swimming twice a week for 30 minutes, spinning, and doing lots of boot-camp type plyometric workouts.

I did some serious carb-loading the week before. Because, you just have to. And it tastes good. My awesome cousin who I stayed with helped me on that front, spoiling me with pasta, garlic bread, French toast....and numerous other goodies on Friday and Saturday. 

Marathon Day!

This could have been a perfect photo...

Parachute Jumpers 

The morning of the marathon was crisp, though not cold. And thankfully, there was no impending hurricane to worry about. The sky was a perfect array of muted dawn colors. This was the perfect backdrop for the American flag-waving parachute jumpers. How cool. How friggin' cool. 

Miles 1-3 (Here we go again! WOOT)

Smiling-at the beginning, of course!

I learned from last year that I needed to move over to the left side of 110 so that I could get to the start line quickly without tripping over people. Beating the Bridge is a SERIOUS AFFAIR and is not to be taken lightly. I started out doing about an 11 minute pace, which for a marathon is still too fast for me. I felt it in my lungs and in my legs that had not quite recovered from the weird flu-like virus I had suffered from 3 weeks prior to event. At the 5K point, I seriously doubted that I had it in me to finish the marathon. First inkling of tears. I didn't feel up to the task, but I had been talking about it for months to everyone who would listen so I would have to finish regardless or I would look like a fool. More tears. 

Miles 4-9 (Ok, this is totally normal)

These miles are usually my sweet spot in long runs, and were my sweet spot during MCM. I usually am warmed up by this point and the running feels easy almost. I even got to see my super-motivational and awesome friends as they were running in the other direction on Rock Creek Parkway. I WOOT-WOOTED them, and continued on quite happily even though that part of the course lasted for years.

Miles 9-13 (Ok, I can get through this, maybe...)

I was still running at an okay pace, not great, but not terrible either. My legs and feet started hurting at this point. For me, it is unusual for the appendages to be in pain so early on, but again I attribute this to flu-like virus/infection that attacked my ankles, knees, neck, feet and hands with arthritis like stiffness and pain. Maybe it was in the stars, or maybe it was Providence but as soon as the pain started to really bother me I spotted someone holding a sign that said "RUN WITH GRATITUDE". I will, I mouthed to myself.

This is when the second bout of tears came on suddenly. I was in a lot of pain, but I was still able to move my body. I had no business doubting my ability to finish this physical and mental (and emotional) endeavor. No business. The tears were from a combination of pain, a deep feeling of gratitude, and the realization that I had 13.1 more miles to go. It was never going to end.

Miles 13-15 (Oooh, another sweet spot!)

Somehow I regained energy after a yummy (relatively speaking) Mint Chocolate GU, some water and the first quarters of oranges. Thank you Marines and volunteers. I really needed that nutrition. I was able to run these two miles fairly "easily." Everything is relative.

Miles 15-17.5 (Why am I doing this again?)

Miles 15-17.5 take you by the various Smithsonians and the Gauntlet, apparently. I still don't know what or where the Gauntlet is...but there are excellent vantage spots for very expensive photos here.

Marathoners have to reach this point by 12:30. I was able to do this with time to spare-but I still wasn't playing with the possibility of not reaching the bridge by 1:05. I ran-walked, alternating light posts. Run three, walk one. Run one, walk three. Whatever the legs and feet thought was appropriate, I did. At this point, I had to shut the mind off.

Miles 18-20 (BEAT THE BRIDGE, DAMMIT)

There's a point in which you know that you'll reach the bridge but you cannot relax until you actually see the drumming ladies JAMMING it up. They looked and sounded awesome. As soon as the slight incline of the bridge came into view, I exhaled like Whitney Houston in Waiting to Exhale. I also looked desperately for members of the Red Felt Running Club at the foot of the bridge. True to their crazy and awesome nature, they were there cheering everyone on and handing out treats that weren't gels. THANK GOD! I scored a Twizzler and a bag of Cheezits (so much for 10 months of GF eating--I didn't care, I couldn't fathom any more overly sweet gels) and continued on my way.

Mile 20-21 (I HATE THE BRIDGE)

This part of the course really is a death march. This may actually be the longest mile ever. No, really.

Many people are stooped over, some are walking in a daze. 

Others are stretching. Some are just sitting, barely moving, on the pavement. The bridge lasts forEVER. And it is hard on your feet. And it is boring. And you have nothing left to think of, because you've thought of everything already, you know, in the last 20 miles. Also, you are just numb.

Fortunately, I had already reached the dreaded wall during mile 3 so I knew I was golden (even though there was still 10K left). Some may ask, what's 10K after you've done 20. Everything. It is everything and it takes everything to continue. Anyway, there was no turning back. I soldiered on (pun intended), speed walking just so that it could be over. 

Miles 22-24 (THESE FLAGS ARE TOO BRIGHT AND CHEERY AND I'M NOT FEELING CHEERY)

The flags of Crystal City, the donuts. That's all I remember. Green to green flag. Walk to yellow. Red to Red flag. Walk to purple. Blue to blue flag. During these miles, I discovered some energy reserves. Where they were at mile 3, I don't know. But here they were offering themselves to me. Okay. Let's do this. And thanks for the Sports Beans that I'll stuff in my bra for now since nothing else with sugar will be going in my mouth. 

Mile 24-25 (REALLY?)

This may be the second longest mile ever. I think they intentionally made it longer just to make me mad.

Mile 25-26 (Almost there!)

I started running again. Some other reserve perhaps? I need to get this done. REEL THOSE SUCKAS IN, I thought. 

When I could see the 26 mile time, there were MORE tears. I am generally not a crier. But these tears were free flowing. 

Almost there! 

Last .2
I made the left turn onto that hill. A marine yelled DIG DEEP. YOU GOT THIS. YOU. GOT. THIS. And I did. I hi-fived all the beautiful, wonderful, and brave marines right before I was knighted ceremoniously with my third MCM medal.

I GOT THIS.