Marathon Baby

The Thursday long run has always been a celebration and a the culmination of a hard week's training, and because of that I have taken the time to build in a 'treat' component, to increase the fun factor.  When four of us were training a couple of years back we used to end our runs against all commonsense and advice, soaking in Merciless' outdoor hot tub.  Lounging against a gorgeous backdrop of twenty feet high pines bent picturesquely with snow, savouring delicious take out lunchs from Zakes' Cakes, we greeted the weekend early in a state of riotous post-run delirium, a cocktail of endorphins mixed with the occasional beer.  Needless to say it did absolutely nothing for our recovery, but left us dehydrated, probably more achey than ever, yet on balance, very happy!  Now that we are down to two and Merciless has baby number five in tow, we are instead frequenting a wonderful diner at the end of the trail, and inviting any one of the Real Housewives of Blue Bell to come and walk/run/bike/baby jog or just lunch with us afterwards. Its sort of a lunch program with some running attached I suppose. One lady had the bright idea of inspiring her own running by making our weekly long run her mileage for the week. Merciless runs about fifty percent of the distance we do, but the fact that she does it with her trusty Bob baby jogger and Berkeley means it is worth double with the upper body work out she gets! Everyone does their own thing, but we all do lunch.

Diving into our cosy booth at Bruno's we got to ordering the usual supply of giant sandwiches, burgers and omelettes.  I had spent the last five miles swapping recipes with Q-less, something I am apt to do when I am really hungry.  Today I was so hungry I would have happily bitten the proverbial rotting leg off a dog. I had, yet again, forgotten the gu, which is a bit rich as I work in a running store.  I also hadn't had a second breakfast as I usually do.  Thursdays see me getting up at 5 am to get the older child to swim practice, so by 9.30 am I was already running on empty.  To save face, I said with some sage authority that we were going to try out McMillan's carbohydrate depletion theories, and Q-less fell for it and gave me one of her particularly blank looks and a resounding 'uh huh'.  McMillan argues that you wean youself off a big breakfast and gel supplements in training, then you feel really zingy when you hit the race and have carbs in your system.  Of course knowing me that probably just means a belly ache as I won't be used to eating a gu every 45 minutes...but it is an interesting theory.  Q-less didn't care anyway, the blank look was because she had had about three breakfasts, so she wasn't bothered anyway, but by the end of that run my stomach was growling like an angry bear and I was talking obsessively about a great recipe for rocket, toasted pine nuts and cherry tomoatoes over pasta that Q-less was describing and trying out variations with her on different varieties of cheese one could put with that.

As I crawled into the booth in my carb depleted state, I looked over at Merciless' Baby Berkeley, now a glorious plump ginger bombshell of eight months who is starting to look rather hungrily at the interesting bites we are taking, rather than at her baby food mush.  I had had the privilege of feeding her her first chocolate chip cookie the previous week, which was a riot with the cream coat and all.  So today the lovely Aunties surrounding her in a halo of long run sweat and love decided it would be even more fun to feed the poor kid a pickle.  It was a priceless moment, sourness puckering Berkeley's serene round face for the first time, then the rather unfortunate, but not altogether unpredictable gag reflex which resulted in near perfect ejection of the offending article.

This moment got me to thinking how different things are with the first baby - the tentative offerings, the anxiety, the consultation of the manual every two minutes, the rules and the general neurosis.  It is a wonder the poor first born can achieve anything without a life of therapy bearing in mind the incompetence they have to endure.  It seems to me, Marathons are a heck of a lot like babies.  Joyous, yet arduous and painful sometimes, and ultimately one of the most rewarding moments you can accomplish.  The training is much like the pregnancy, full of expectant moments, yet you are always thinking about the next phase and the final culmination.  The race itself is certainly a labour, and can be divided into the same phases, with the last being the most painful, yet memorable.  The pain of that labour is quickly eradicated by the joy of finishing and before you know it you have fooled yourself into thinking the whole thing was fabulous and of course there should be another - and soon!

The fifth baby of course grows up without any of that neurosis, all rules go out the window, and there is an ease in its upbringing, knowing that if the other four babies made it, chances are the last one will.  Besides which there are four other siblings to share the love and delegation becomes the name of the game.  I have a good friend and neighbor who was a fifth child and whilst she did elicitly learn to drive at the tender age of 12, she has a fabulously relaxed attitude to life itself and is a wonderful person.  Not running every time that baby squawks is probably a good thing, and benign neglect certainly has its benefits.

The fifth marathon is somewhat the same as the fifth child.  I am no longer constantly consulting the manual and stressing over every detail.  I skipped a recovery run on Monday because I felt like it and went to the gym, now my weekly total is 44 not 49.  Unlike with the first marathon, I am not constantly dogged by the agony of that missed run.  I won't show up in Boston in April still convinced that missing five miles means the race will not go smoothly. It is really much more fun this time around.  Q-Less was in charge of the garmin on Thursday and we missed our pace a bit, relaxing on the way back, and talking (about food remember) but my response was more, 'oh well, it was a drop down week', than 'oh crap' how are we ever going to run 26.2 miles 40 seconds faster than that pace.   Time was I would have been drinking water all night and avoiding the dessert table before the ten mile tempo run I am about to do, but instead, I had a couple of glasses of wine and a fair few brownies and blondies - oh well!  Like Berkeley and the pickle, the worse that can happen is I end tossing the said cookies - it won't be the end of life as we know it!  Here is to marathon number five turning out to be the lovely balanced relaxed and happy fifth child.

The Big Why?

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that there are days you just plain out lack inspiration.  Everything feels flat, so so, and just not worth the effort.  Today was just one of those blah Mondays!  In contrast, Saturday had seen fresh snow, the first of the year, and I had had a ton of fun sliding in the fluffy stuff, zig zagging down Bright's Lane listening to the Beatles scream Helter Skelter - it was a recovery run anyway, so the 9 minute pace didn't hurt the old ego too much.  But the aching calves the next day made me realize running in trails in snow is akin to trying to race through sand dunes, it takes its toll on your legs, especially when you are 45.  The next day, Sunday is normally my favorite run of the week, but suddenly Valley Green was out of action as it would be an ice rink, and I had to take to the roads.  I invited myself over to bother Q-Less in her neighborhood.  Trying to avoid the ice on the now reduced surface of the roads made things a little slower, as I am a big chicken about falling over, convinced I will need that hip replacement 30 years early if I go down hard.   I found myself working double time to keep the pace.  Unfortunately to make things worse Cheri had definitely had her wheaties, as she took off at a much faster pace than we were scheduled to run, taking no prisoners.  Despite saying reassuring things about safety beforehand in her texts, Q-Less has a rather cavalier attitude towards other road users and prefers to frequent the center of the road like the Titan she is, accompanying this positioning with a particularly aggressive range of  hand gestures and choice words to any motorists who take issue with her presence.  So whilst our two tempo sections of the run were faster than they needed be, the experience was somewhat on the demoralizing side - especially when she used her ESP to rub it in and shouted smugly back to me trailing in her wake 'did you have two glasses of wine last night or something...' which of course I had, it had been Saturday night after all.

So Monday morning rolled around and the white stuff was still laying right where it had sat since the weekend, and now freezing rain was in the mix.  I rebelled for the first time in five weeks, thumbed a nose at the warm running outfit laid out in the bathroom ready for the next day, and pulled on my long neglected gym clothes and headed for Bodyworks instead.  I instead had fun hurting other parts of my body, rather than just my legs, and it felt good to have music blaring out.  It got me thinking 'why the heck was I running Boston again anyway', and immediately the large finish poster at the end of the race sprang to mind.  It had been a very dramatic 100 ft image of a woman running and it just said 'Run Boston Better'.  I realized that dropping time in this race was not necessarily motivating me; true, we did have a pace in mind, we did want to drop ten minutes of our last attempt.  But thinking about it, what was really going to get me out the door next time, was the fact that the for the last two miles of the race I had not had fun.  Q-less had been the only one feeling fine in that race.  Nonetheless suffered the terrible quad cramps early on, only to be revived by a 'friendly' stranger who massaged it back into existence so she could hobble on and finish like the trooper she is, Merciless had ended her race in the medical tent, her body basically shutting down at mile 18, leaving her struggling mentally and physically for 8 or more miles.  Q-Less and I had carried on and felt fine until mile 24, where I started to experience a loud roaring in my ears that didn't subside until I crossed the finish line.  To start with I of course hoped it might be noise from the crowd which engulfs every inch of that the race, but then through my delirium, I realized it was more akin to that feeling you have just before you faint.  Q-Less had played mother hen at that point and took my water bottle to lighten my load, and we slowed the pace a bit, but you can see in all of the pictures one of us waving like a happy crazy girl, and the other one, me of course, appears to be expressionless.  I have a fixed glazed eye on the finish line - I had locked step with Q-Less and was running like an automaton - any other mental or physical effort would not have been possible at that stage.  She was merrily pointing out the cheering family and kids spectating and I was barely acknowledging it.  So having processed my lack of excitement today, and figured out why on earth I am spending the next 16 weeks doing this, I am going to make the most of this new resolve.  Tomorrow, I pledge to pick back up the running clothes languishing next to the shower, and hit the track for interval Tuesday; simply because I want to Run Boston Better.  No matter how exhausting the 800-600-600 interval sets are, I am going to finish each one as if it were the last few moments of Boston, and this time the only roaring will be my own!

GUMPISMS

Forrest Gump's Mother always told him that life was like a box of chocolates, on the grounds that you never knew what you were gonna get; well during the three years he spent insanely running coast to coast what he should have figured out was that Momma could have helped him out a bit more if she had told him, life was also like a bar of chocolate.

Roll by that big old bar of chocolate in the supermarket and more than likely you won't even pick it up - most people feel too much of a porker to do it (unless it it's Cadbury's Bournville, or maybe Green & Black).  Eat it all in one go and more than likely you will feel nauseous, guilty and generally unhappy; but one cube at a time and it becomes an elegant treat, can wake up a sleepy afternoon, and leave you feeling zingy and energized!

To me running is more like a bar of chocolate.  Today's 15 miler could have seemed overwhelming and hard; but broken into digestible easy chunks of chocolate, each one was enjoyable in its own way.  The first time I ran a marathon I remember feeling a bit fagged out at the 3 mile mark and made the mistake of muttering to myself 'Oh well, just 23 more to go..." and rapidly realized that I would have to stop that kind of talking pronto, or I would be peeling off and going for coffee on South Street, instead of running and finishing the race.  Q-Less and I headed off for our 15 miler happy today because we had it split into 3 runs.  The first 6 miles of easy chit chat on the trail, bathed in sunshine, enjoying the crisp scenery down at Valley Green, discussing all the randomness of our lives...kids..neighbors...crap tv.  A brief pause to i-pod up and we started a whole new run, 7 miles at race pace, chasing Kelly Drive and following the river into the city, trying to develop a music fueled rhythm.  Our third and final run was a two mile cool down, enlivened with company from a couple of friends who appeared as 'guest runners' on the trail joining us for lunch afterwards.

Suddenly each of these smaller run were easy - I have even in my mind broken each mile into 400m when I have felt I couldn't move another minute, and, then broken it down even further, often find myself focusing on each step, trying to make each own smooth and perfect in its own way.  An ex-marine trainer at Platoon used to tell us the mind gives out way before the body....it is soo true.

Much of life is like that - think too far ahead and you freak yourself out, too much to do, not enough time, each decision gets harder than the next.  If we break it into small bite size pieces that warm glow of individual accomplishment is like when the chocolate hits your cheeks and just makes you smile.

Maybe next week we need to bring that bar of chocolate with us - gu at zero temperatures is really nasty, and frankly tastes like chewing your way through a sachet of frozen snot!  One cube per mile might well be the answer.......

SHOE CANDY

I have always lived by the the phrase 'You can never have too many shoes', that coupled with a new found career working in a running store is leading to an Imeldacious Marcos style collection.  Q-Less actually asked me 'just how many freakin shoes do you own right now' when I showed up for Thursdays' distance run sporting the latest hot pink and grey Asic Kayano despite the disgusting muddy conditions.  Her comments were a product of partial envy, coupled with a very conservative approach to her shoes 'tried a new pair once, didn't like them', so she is still wearing the same tried and true shoe we all wore when we began our marathon careers.  Don't get me wrong, can't say anything bad about that shoe, the Kayano has carried me through many training runs and plenty of races without a sore toe, blister or painful tendon.  It still feels good to me, so cushioned it is like wearing a big warm hug around your foot, especially if you want to do a twenty miler at Valley Green on a wet day.  But one day I am convinced we will get her to try a lighter shoe.

My boss didn't pay me to say this, honest, but shoes really do alter the way you run, both pyschologically and physically.  I remember my son running track at Ambler Olympic every week; such a cautious individual, who doesn't like to get caught up in the craziness of competition, preferring to stoically stick to his own plan and control the mayhem around him.  Well his own plan wasn't really working for him any more, as week after week he put in the same fairly slow mile time without any variance or improvement.  Come week 5 we cracked, and like true helicopter parents indulged him with shiny new spikes - he took a minute off his time and was thrilled to be flying round the track!  Did the spikes make him faster?  not that much in my view, especially as the following week's trek down to Lower Merion track saw him revert to his usual style of running.  To rub it in further, he was sufficiently easy in his pacing, so that now he was also to argue very eloquently, and with hand gestures, that he already was going fast when his father and I urged him to 'pick it up'.  The thing was, for that one week he had been excited and he truly believed that the shoe would make a huge difference, so of course it did.

Now when I go out to run a tempo run, I simply feel faster the minute I lace up my DS trainer - so I am fast.   Positive intention easily translates into reality.  Because I believe the shoe's lightness is going to make it easier to raise up my legs and arms higher, I do just that. I feel the lumps and bumps of the trail much more, so I choose to fly over them, rather than puttering along at my usual distance pace.  The shoe lends itself to speed by its design, but the positive visualization you get from simply choosing that shoe is worth even more.

Having access to a range of shoes has been fascinating, you start to notice very nuance of lacing, how they hug the foot here or there, whether they have hard or soft suspension and how that translates into your running.  In Harry Potter Ollivander said 'the wand chooses the wizard' and I find myself letting the shoes choose me, rather than heading off toward my own prejudices.  I am finding a whole new world of shoe candy out there that lend themselves to different running workouts; and I love every one of them for different reasons.  So next time you choose your shoes, 'let the shoe choose the runner' and even if are loyal to your current shoe, remember it isn't a marriage, and make sure you try on one other pair just to see........

What a Drag!

Weekend runs are not the leisurely product of self indulgence, late nights and lazy mornings sitting in bed with coffee contemplating the fabulous day ahead when you have kids.  Especially when your hubby travels a lot.  So my running this weekend was squeezed into the early mornings but was invaluable for my sanity as I did a lot of time feeding, ferrying and ferociously recording splits for my two swimmers this weekend.

It had been a bitter sweet moment when my first born, now a feisty sixteen year old, swore off anything to do with running, despite having enjoyed some success at school running middle distance. The previous summer we had evolved from our usually explosive running partnership which had in the past involved me pointlessly trying to give advice or motivation.  She never took my advice well, and sometimes I would find her pounding on the treadmill hanging only on to the bars, so she thought I would think she was training!  But by summer of her sophomore year, our running rapport had improved.  I learnt to be quiet and let her choose her own training methods, and the summer she prepared for her first cross country season we had finally reached an amicable accord.  Down at Valley Green we would go our separate ways, only occasionally shouting out to each other on the trail if there had been an exciting sighting of Bradley Cooper or Renee Zelweger.  We even developed and honed the 'Bradley Cooper' tempo run, that involved a sluggish teenage girl springing into life to chase down the elusive celebrity.  So when she announced a year later that she had never really liked running, she just liked winning, and that it was swimming that she wanted to focus on, I was sad to miss our times together, but happy she had found her niche and had enough sense of self to change her direction.  So here I was watching her trash up and down a pool again.  In distance swimming I started to realize there are a lot of parallels to running.  Firstly in distance swimming, you have to be every bit as anal about your equipment as you do in running. The famous marathon runner Meb Keflezeghi left a breathe right strip in his shoe just before the NYC Marathon, and then forgot to take it out!  He rubbed his foot raw during the race, despite running his best ever time, but his ability to take part in next week's Olympic trials were briefly in doubt due to this injury, from such a minor mistake.  Even small changes over a long distance can have a devastating effect.  So as I watched the swimmer girl  start racing the mile at GA's pool I was a bit disconcerted to see her swim cap start sliding within the first 4 laps.  She spent the bulk of this 66 lap race looking totally pissed off with her life, as she finally gave up the endless tugging on the cap and let it fall after the first 500 yards.  Watching her pulling desperately at the water, a huge mess of hair hanging under her goggles creating drag and turbulence, and the snarl on her face made me think about how in races you should: never do anything new (she had a country club swim cap on for the first time), do lay out and trial all of your previously tested equipment, and if necessary bring spares in case of breakage, and how, if and when something does go wrong, you simply adapt and find the resilience or as we would day in England the 'gumption' to fight on.  It was painful to watch, but she still got a PR despite her mishap, it just cost her more effort than it needed to.  I would also urge all of you to get out and race immediately, as the best thing about swimming a race on 8th January, is that she gets to (very briefly) enjoy being ranked 28th in the nation in the mile!

POWER AND CONTROL

Long run day is now on Thursdays - a wonderful culmination to a week of build up, and a good excuse for a really early lunch. Week two of training meant our first long run with a race simulation element, so 6 miles at easy pace, 6 at race pace and then a 2 mile cool down. I have noticed how easy these tempo type runs are to do solo, but hadn't had the pleasure of one with Q-Less before. I am beginning to remember why I always ran behind her and Merciless last time - the minute all three of us were in a row we collectively started racing each other, so I would sit behind at the tip of a triangle imagining they were both reindeer and they were Donner and Blitzer pulling me along on a sleigh, and would occasionally yell 'mush mush'. Either that or I got to hang out with Nonetheless who was altogether a more mellow runner, amazing, considering she is such a beast on the tennis court. Today when we picked up the pace into Manayunk I was struggling mentally and feeling slow and realized it was because Q-Less is entirely incapable of running alongside me and is permanently positioned a foot ahead. This tactic, coupled with the fact that her legs are a good 6 inches longer than mine, was creating a sense of 'struggle' or effort in my own mind, that wasn't usually there. For our race portion we hit the intimidating mile long Shawmont Hill, and Cheri sensibly suggested single file and said I should head up as she had led last week. Within a few moments of taking the lead I saw her looming over my right shoulder and edging ahead back into her familiar spot, - when I barked 'Ya just couldn't help yourself could ya!" she meekly claimed she meant I was allowed to lead later in the hill, but right now there were not too many cars. I should have taken this as a sign! I motored steadily up the hill trying to work on rhythm and keep a constant pace; it wasn't a staggering pace, but the 8.30 min per mile wasn't bad considering what a long and boring hill it is. Just before we crested the hill I became aware of a strangled gurgling behind me and glanced back to see Q-Less writhing in agony - seconds later she had to do the unthinkable and walk, due to a bad stomach cramp. Now when Q-less runs that hill and leads, she starts easy then charges the last few minutes and is every bit as strong, and probably stronger a runner than I am. What had undone her was a fatal 'lack of control', the minute she had to follow me she felt as if she couldn't keep up, and it was too hard. A two second rest saw her totally recovered, but we both learnt something useful about running, especially distance running, which is in a race 26 miles long, competing is not always helpful, you have to learn to control your own pace and lock out the distraction of what other runners are doing.

The run was also an excuse to debut some recent purchases, a wonderful line of clothing from the running store I work at; made by Mizuno the fabric has an exothermic property, wicking away moisture then heating it up to keep you really toasty. Q-Less and I were taking bets on whether having a hot hoo ha, or toasty cha cha would help on a long run, and I was happy to report my stride was doing just fine up that long hill, protected as I was by schnazzy new tights.

Diving into Cedars Cafe for homemade artichoke and field mushroom soup for recovery was fabulous, especially as Merciless and Robin were already waiting for us. The bonus was getting to slip the normally beautiful baby Berkeley her first chocolate chip cookie - her face looked like an IRA dirty protest by the end and her cream fluffy coat was trashed, but heck what are girlfriends for!

Fear Factor

Today was interval Tuesday - something I look forward as i have found I really relish the challenge of speed work. Since giving up a career in philanthropy ten years I realized I missed being scared shitless at the monthly board meeting with the Chairman and possibly speed work has replaced that as a regular attempt at revving myself up slightly. Of course one person's fear is another person's dread, and I remember Merciless being particularly miserable for the first month of Boston training two years ago at the mere mention of intervals. Today was 9 miles of mile repeats, 30 - 60 seconds faster than race pace - not too bad, but it was 27f and a howling wind. Q-Less remarked that she was less than excited to be about to embark on our latest adventure so we spent some time psychoanalysizing her level of dread. Seems fear of failure dogs us all, even though she is ridiculously talented, and had won states as a High Schooler in the Decathalon with the shakiest of training regimens. However, she was often reluctant to train because of her previous success. Her degree of talent had maybe back fired a little, as it meant she could usually wing it and do better than most of us - the fear of training was that if she actually invested effort in the preparation and then didn't do well it would really suck! Having got that little issue resolved, the miles flew by and we both really enjoyed them - especially the return leg, as we were warmed up despite with the wind smacking us full on in our face; we followed the shadow of a split rail fence each as if we were on train tracks without thinking too much about fear, failure or anything else except how to negotiate the trail.

The run also led me to think about another aspect of fear. I believe your friends are there partially to provide a mirror to your own soul, and I had been intrigued that both Merciless and Q-Less had recently referred to me as 'scary' at an evening out. Being 5ft 5, mousey and with a quite English accent, I was a bit surprised. Even my kids think I am about as scary as a sticky toffee pudding; rather than shaking in his shoes, my 13 year old son usually responds with a bizarre, pythonesque one liner like 'mioua mix' or 'Amontallido'if I shout an authorative directive at him, like 'tidy your room'. Well half an hour into the intervals I had for once given Q-less the job of calling splits, and I had pointed out that the GPS was a bit patchy down at Valley Green, so that we had better use the mile markers instead. By the third repeat and she was still telling me it was only 0.95 of a mile even when we were passed the mile marker I did start hurling abuse at her about her passive aggressive ways......I then realized what she meant by scary...something about running in the wind makes it seem OK to scream at folk.

Highlight of the run was seeing Merciless bobbing towards us complete with baby bundled in stroller, braving the freezing winds for a mile or two, couldn't resist the intervals after all!

Running Naked in 34f

Q-Less prefers to do her recovery runs without any form of garmin or watch - probably because it stops her worrying about how fast or slow she is going, and she truly gets a break from me hissing splits in her ear, every 200m.  So this morning when there wasn't even a beep of battery life left in my old clunker of a garmin, I went without and 'ran naked'.  It reminded me of a time a couple of years ago when Q-Less and I had done just that, and it ended up being a 30 mile run that took up much of the day.  We didn't know how far we were going or when we would be done.  With the entire day freed up, we just ambled our way downtown and into Manayunk, stopping for soup or muffins every ten miles or so.  Losing the timing device, really does change how you run, you stop trying so hard, and you allow yourself to enjoy the fast bits without worrying about just how fast or slow they are.   There were moments when I forgot I was running and felt more like I was peddalling in slow motion through the sun dappled trails, perhaps I was? Anyway I finished my regular 5 mile loop at about the same time of day, so it didn't seem to change the outcome hugely. Maybe this a good metaphor for life - perhaps we should all relax and enjoy more so that the whole day doesn't feel so full of effort.  It does help that my i-pod seems to have its own form of alien intelligence and is cunningly able to use random shuffle to find just the right song for the right moment - selecting Stairway to Heaven just as you ascend a sun filled slope on the last stretch was peachy; if Eminem had tried dropping the whole world at that point it just wouldn't have cut it!

The Quest Continues!

So the arsey teenage daughter starts talking about some basic psychology terms, and brings up Maslow (or was it Laszlo's) Hierarchy of Needs.  With the unflinching scrutiny of all teenagers she sees right through the sham her mother is, and declares I have not yet approached the fabled stage of 'self actualisation' (see how I still spell like an English person even though I have now lived here for nine years...) and it got me thinking - what is my self actualisation, and why don't I have it?

This blog is emerging partly as a response to this question, partly a response to a need for a new year's resolution that is less trite than limiting the number of alcohol units, or cookies munched in a week.

Finding a title for my blog didn't take more than a moment, 'Chasing the Unicorn' relates to an obsession with the Boston Marathon - which has been dominating my, and by extension, my friends' lives for the past few years.  We ran as a group of four two years ago, we were called The Team of Less, and the training and the race itself taught us a great deal about ourselves and our friendships.  Two years on The Team of Less, is now down to two, with injury for one member, and a 5th baby for the other, limiting involvement more to fun lunches than hours on the trail or at the track.  My non running friends, and there are a couple who are still holding out, think the sore knee and baby were desperate attempts to get out of my clutches; I prefer to think of them as temporary, but significant, pauses on their journey as runners.   In other words, they will be back soon and will probably be running us in on the Boston course, feeling fabulous.

Self Actualisation for me might just be fulfilling my belief that if only I could persuade the rest of the world to love running, it would be a happier place.  Mental illness, diabetes, heart disease, alcoholism, grumpiness, lack of purpose - all would be eradicated by the simple act of 30 minutes joy filled running every day.  In the ten or so years I have been running I have often thought that almost everything you need to learn about life could be acquired from simply putting one foot in front of the other and teaching yourself how to run, and how to think in a clear space.

This blog will track a suburban English transplant in her quest for self actualisation, and her mission to run a better Boston marathon.

My Sunday tempo run is one of the highlights of the week - fast, but not killer, and the weather is warm and dry - what could be a better start to 2012?