EARLY RETIREMENT

The London Marathon is an incredible race. It is the largest fundraising event in the world, and has garnered almost 500 million pounds since its inception.  It was the perfect corner stone to be my final and tenth marathon before heading into big race retirement. I was expecting no PR's just a comfortable 8:30/9 minute per mile last hurrah amongst the amazing sights and sounds of London.  20 family and friends waiting at the finish line, the first time my parents would see me race and a great opportunity to raise money for King's College Hospital.

Five weeks ago things were going gloriously well, coming off another 50 mile week and a strong 20 miler I headed into the next training session finally feeling my legs were adapting.  The epic fail of the next long run and the hip pain in the left leg has done nothing to change over a 4 week period.  I have had multiple soft tissue consults with the sports med chiro, and you know its bad when Rudy refuses to charge you for the last visit and just gives you a sympathetic smile.  He has saved me for Boston for the last two years but even he is stumped this time.  The ortho ruled out bone spurs or stress fractures, general opinion is it might be spine, it might be glute, but it involves nerve impingement of some kind and it doesn't allow running.

I cross trained hard, doubling up on spin classes, getting hot yoga in for strength and flexibility, then when nothing changed I tried total rest.  Boy was that awful, a whole week of not sleeping, feeling sluggish, no appetite, just not myself. Still no change.

With any other race you just slink away and ignore social media and results on race day, go for a long walk and forget about it.  This time I have an incredible group of supporters and donors to acknowledge so I will be there at the charity reception surrounded by accomplished, happy runners, and trying to put a brave face on it.  For a crazy day or two I was seriously considering walking the course along with some of the slower charity runners.  7 hours didn't seem too much of a problem.  A day or two of long walks has made me reconsider that idea, after an hour the hip starts to throb ominously and the lower leg gets shooting pains in the side.

I guess my body decided on an early retirement package instead! I joked at the start that my 50 plus training plan should really just include large sheets of bubble wrap and I would cocoon in that for three months, emerge uninjured and pull off a better marathon than if I trained.  How true that was. As of today I have officially given up on being able to run or walk this incredible race, so the best I can do is grab some cow bells and get excited for the elites and all the other amazing folks who will be running a week on Sunday and be thankful I raised 92% of my target for this great hospital.  I am sure this will heal on its own, just not on my time line, and I will be so excited to get out there again, if it means no more big marathons, just running those trails with Poppy will be treat enough.

I am happy we raised so much money for a really great cause.  I will look back on that training block and the fun I had with Shawna as a truly wonderful time, and try and soak up the excitement of other runners in London without feeling sorry for myself. Thank you, thank you, to everyone who encouraged, donated, and gave me support for this one, its been a journey!

Everything I need to learn in life I learn from running!

Sweating it out in spin class to Freddy and Bowie singing 'This is our last dance, This is ourselves, Under Pressure' I started thinking about the pressure I had put myself under with this last retirement marathon.  This is the third consecutive year I have signed up for a big deal race then found myself on that tightrope of injury and health, running Boston on 3 weeks of training last year, 6 the year before.  Why do I keep doing this to myself I ask, the same old dance?  This one was even more complex than Boston, London means a lot of travel, its a bucket list race, plus the large fundraising target, the dinners with well wishers family and friends before and after the race.  Two weeks ago it seemed like a terrific idea, I was feeling awesome, had just completed my first 20 miler, and the body actually felt as though it was finally making some adaptions in terms of strength after a solid 9 weeks of training.  The day after the 20 miler I didn't wake up groaning, I actually felt good.  I managed a short recovery run of 3 miles and did a roll call of body parts - heel, check, OK, calves, good, in one piece, hammys', a little tight but still holding.  Yay only 5 weeks to race day and the uninterrupted weeks of training was starting to take.

The next day I headed to pilates and then did an easy 6 miler - we worked hard, lots of hip and adductor work at Crunch.  It is so important to keep up the vital strength work in marathon training right?  The next day was a long tempo, my hips felt really heavy and I nearly bagged it, but the impending week of rain made me press on and I hit all the times I wanted to do.  Success!  I took a recovery day of hot yoga the next day, then ran easy Wednesday and Thursday.  Friday came around and time for another 18 mile and my left leg just felt like crud from the start.  By mile 3 it loosened up a little, by mile 6 it decide to go the other way and to stiffen up ominously.  At mile 7 I decided to turn around and reduce to a 14 mile run, then in driving rain for the next 2 miles the leg got rapidly worse, until I pulled into Wholefoods and sheepishly called Guy to pick me up as I was now full on limping, dripping wet and thoroughly miserable.

A week is a long time in running, so I rested and rested, did some gentle yoga classes, took some ibuprofen, hobbled to the wonderful Dr Rudy, then rested some more.  Nothing changed.  No pain unless I ran.  So I have been spinning and going to yoga and waiting.....This week I took a visit to the orthopedist to rule out anything sinister like pelvic fractures or bone spurs on the hip, all good it has to be a muscle - so back to brinkmanship and hoping the next 3 weeks sees more improvement.

I was born a perfectionist, a planner, someone who believes the devil is in the detail, who doesn't do things by halves.   I have never been flexible, able to shoot from the hip, chaos scares me and anyone who knows me, knows I can be a total control freak.  Ofcourse is exactly why I need running in my life? Running dictates that you are not the one who gets to make the decisions, that there is a randomness in the universe that is much bigger than you.  It forces you to remain fully in the present and not look backwards of forwards as you realize fixating in any other direction simpy doesn't serve you.

Strava keeps trying to get my attention but I ignore it, same with garmin connect, and the Facebook group page for the excited marathoners, and I am trying hard to chill and just be.  Turbulent events in my coaching life also meant that I haven't had a minute for myself anyway, so maybe it was just as well I couldn't go for 20 mile runs and sit in ice baths, there has been no time for that.

It occurred to me that it would be really easy to give up on running, and coaching right now as both seem to be fraught with problems.  However, I can't help but think that the latest set back is just another much needed lesson for me in dealing in the here and now, and not worrying too much about the future events that I can't control.

I'm down, but not yet out.

BATHING WITH THE FISHES

Me, Shawna and Rosaura hanging in the parking lot afterwards

This week saw me trying to return to routine after a lovely break in Hawaii.  While the rest of the country and Europe was dealing with terrible weather and the Beast from the East, we did have a cold snap and a small ice storm to contend with, even if it was still delightfully sunny by mid day, which meant tights and gloves.  After four weeks of build it was time for a challenging 18 miler - not sure why but 18 just sounds scarier than 16 even though it is a paltry two miles more.  In most training cycles you throw in a couple of 20 milers and a couple of 18's so this was about to get real and there was a degree of apprehension on Thursday night.

Shawna and I had a guest appearance from the always peppy Rosaura, who was trying to get in 20 miles for her Boston training schedule, but as she is somewhat faster we were treated with her glorious pirouettes and spent time with her on 'guu' stops and those brief moments when you stop to complain about the bits that hurt.  There comes a time when you can no longer converse anyway - in the last 6 miles you are not feeling too chatty or expansive.   I have always felt that distance running is an exercise in learned discomfort and I enjoy clicking off the miles by switching my little hand held water bottle from one hand to the next alternating miles as a form of counting and for mental variety.  It is amazing how much we get used to small habits.  For instance I realized I really don't enjoy carrying it in my left hand - my right hand is just that tad bit stronger and bigger.  Like yoga classes where they force you to change the clasp of your hands or the cross of your legs, switching to another side of your body for something as simple as carrying water requires some mental effort and accommodation.  It is interesting to notice how reluctant we are to do so in situations of mild stress.  Like parking our car in the exact same spot when we go to work or the grocery store, it is or mind and body's way of creating less work and being lazy.  On longer runs it also pays to get awfully interested in the little things, like how you are landing that foot that has the sore ridge of hard skin on the little toe, or why that left hip is feeling like its not extending as much as the other side, just to keep your mind from wandering to how much you would rather be home on your couch eating a tray of donuts and drinking coffee.

18 felt hard, and it was sobering and briefly depressing to remember I would still have another 8 miles left of the marathon.  Instead at mile 15 I started thinking, if I feel like this at Blackfriars when all those runners are in the dark underpass weeping, weeing and rolled up in a ball of pain, I would actually be quite happy as I knew I could do this for three more miles - the re-framing was helpful and meant the three of us all finished at a much better clip than the rest of the run. Positive attitude does indeed produce a negative split.

Reflective of my impending dotage I am doing my best on recovery so ran a nice cold bath and plunked in an entire tray of ice from the freezer in it, sadly once I got in I realized it was around 60f and not nearly cold enough to be useful, just cold enough to be a bit miserable.  I dripped my way back to the kitchen with the dog regarding me with some degree of curiosity, only to find there were only a few ice packs.  There was also a temptingly large pack of King Crab Claws and a six pack of steelhead salmon, but sanity took over and I drew the line at bathing with dinner.


7 weeks to go and a drop down week to 14 miles before the next big push - March is going to be lots of running, better get that ice machine cranking!

ADAPT OR DIE - its all about the recovery!

So the last two weeks of marathon training have seen me trying to gradually build back up to where I was in early December, and I am happy to report despite some aches and pains and the heel bursitis I am now back at 40 mile weeks, with the long run at 14 miles.  Last week I was lucky enough to get to to do my long run in La Jolla in San Diego, which whilst it was hilly, meant that some perfect views of the ocean, complete with seals and surf, and my new dream home below kept me motivated; even though I knew the hamstring and heel were going to be unhappy afterwards. The key to running over the age of 50 seems to be as much about recovery as it is about the work, so being someplace where I could spend an hour stretching and rolling, then put my feet up by the pool definitely helped!  That and the fun of meeting up with my old running buddy Cheri, who is also a high school distance coach made for a great end to the week and it feels great to get in a hot tub when you are sore and stiff.

I have finally realized that I can only manage two hard workouts a week, instead of the three I used to do, so that leaves me with the long run and a medium long tempo, as one attempt at speed work and I am hobbling for days.  Obliging as ever Shawna agreed to move our 9 mile tempo to Tuesdays, now giving me two days before my long Friday run.  The day after the tempo, I go to Hot 90 which is stretching and strength in a studio nearby that they heat to 104 degrees with humidity.  If you can get over the rather confronting visual of standing there in a small room in front of a mirror, just in your shorts and bra with rivulets of sweat running down into a puddle on the floor, the effect is really beneficial.  The lack of flexibility and range of motion brought on my too many miles is helped enormously by higher temperatures, plus it gives you the sense of having worked hard without the soreness afterwards.  For my second recovery day I have a really fun and social recovery run with my bunch of friends who meet at Peet's Coffee shop but double up with a 5:30 am spin class to try and mimic the tiredness you get from running harder, even if you can't run as much as you want to.

Friday saw a 14 miler with Shawna.  The brilliant thing about being slower than her is that for the last four miles she pretty much kept me entertained with a great monologue about her plans for the next few weeks.  I used to run with her husband before he got too fast and he used to try and talk to me at the end of a run until he discovered I was too irritable to be conversational for the last 25% of any longer effort so he would keep quiet and leave me to be what I thought was focused, but was probably just grumpy, solitude.  Shawna on the other hand keeps up the convo but is perfectly happy for me to make vague grunts or 'uh huhs' once in a while.  We ran on the Iron Horse as I am happy to exploit the the fake negative split effect it provides by the mild downhill on the return. Coming back into Heather Farm Park I was feeling pretty happy, and was a bit low on fuel so feeling a little euphoric, however it was a bit soul destroying to realize that at this point in the race I would be just over Tower Bridge, and really only a little over half way through the race.  Onwards and upwards.

Seeing so many snowy or rainy, icey pictures on social media I know Californian's have it super easy, last week saw 78f in Walnut Creek, however to try and give some element of hardship I am now really going to be roughing it as we are venturing to Hawaii for a Valentine's Day treat! On a serious note, the humidity will make it more of a challenge, and I will definitely be using my heart rate as a guide rather than pace. 9 weeks to go, 16 miles on Friday and I will be loading up my hand held water bottle and trotting past the sights of Waikiki Beach and the University of Hawaii!

LONDON'S CALLING

My obsession with the Boston Marathon finally seems to have dwindled after four appearances.  The last two years had seen me train on first 6 weeks, then 3, after having an injury seem to always shut me down in January and February.  For some reason my body always calls it quits in December! I decided to take on a bucket list race, the London Marathon, and to fundraise for a great cause, King's College Hospital, who had saved the life of a dear friend a year or two ago with a liver transplant.

So here I was again with a high stakes race a week after Boston, at the end of April, and feeling gung ho about training, and predictably managed to hurt myself in the first two weeks of training by running speed work at 5k not 10k pace - duh. This time I was determined to beat the odds and shut down the training entirely - switching instead to hot yoga and spin class and repeat visits to my always patient and effective chiropractor, the good Dr Rudy while he tried to straighten out the hamstring, IT band and peroneal muddle I had ended up in.

This week saw me attempt my first run, a tentative 4 miler at Castle Rock with Poppy, followed by a flat 6 miler the next day.  As they had gone reasonably well I decided to do book end workouts and repeat the exact same runs.  This was even more encouraging.  It is so easy to be frustrated when you are feeling out of shape, so the slow castle rock run, was replaced by the second one 4 minutes faster, the 6 miler at 9 min pace was now 6 at 8:30 pace.  I took another day off for spin class and then faced the real test; running with Shawna.

Shawna is younger, faster, and despite some metal work in her ankle a great athlete.  So I showed up for our early Wednesday session, and found that although I was puffing and panting like a wilder beast, I hung on to her for four miles and then she drifted away in the last mile, cute pony tail swinging.  On Thursday my heel bursitis was pulsating, angry and red, so I did a very easy day.  Then today saw the start of Friday long runs again.  Prior to the set back I had been up to 14 miles, but I knew it wasn't smart to start right back up where I had been.  Based on the amount of time off I needed around 60% of the mileage for my first week back, so opted to try for 8 miles.

Long runs are always more fun with friends, Shawna was telling me such good stories I made it to the five mile mark before I knew it and managed to pull out my first double digit run in a month! And although my heart rate was ridiculously high, average 165, it felt good to be able to run it at goal marathon pace, even if it meant I had spent about an hour in the orange zone.

Runners only ever think they are as good as their last workout.  Last week I was confident I could handle 0.2 of the race, by a day later the 6.2 came into view.  As of today I know I can make it ten miles, so will get to Rotherhithe and Surrey Quays at least.

As I build up my long run I will be trying to add a couple of miles each week until I have the entire snaking east end figured out, the last bit with Buckingham Palace will run itself, but there is around 20 miles of East End with names as enticing as Shadwell, Mudchute and Poplar to enjoy.  11 weeks to go and all I have to do is stay healthy and I will be way ahead of the marathons I have run for the past two years!

My father has threatened pom poms and a rara skirt with sequins as he cheers, that coupled with the pressure of about 40 friends and relatives, even an Uncle from Australia is going to keep me being diligent about injury; that and being half way to a really big fundraising goal.
see link below:
 https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/RuthSeabrook1

PAIN IS INEVITABLE. SUFFERING IS OPTIONAL - How to run the Boston Marathon on 3 weeks training!

The Mom of a runner I coach kindly let me a book entitled ' What I Talk About When I Talk About Running' written by a Japanese best selling autho Haruki Marukami.  Tucked in my purse for 'marathon weekend' light reading, one phrase kept resonating with me prior and during the 2017 Boston Marathon, 'pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional'. It sounded like a good mantra to me.

With 12 weeks of total inactivity due to a cluster of injuries, labral tear, bulging disc with nerve impingement, mangled hamstring, it was truly a wonder I was even in Boston, but pain was very much on my mind, how much was OK, what wasn't....  After the MRI revealed the severity of the issues, the only cross training I had done was 30 mins easy walking of the dog.  Then that great medicine commonly referred to as the 'tincture of time' meant that I could run a little, and that first week saw me creep up from 10 X 1 minute to 9.5 miles, the second week I managed a 14 miler, the third saw me test out if I should even attempt Boston with the need to achieve 18 miles. Although not pain free, I was no worse after 18 so made the bold decision to attempt the impossible and see if I could at least finish the race.

Being able to run 18 miles had built some confidence in me, but as the usual pre race momentum built in the city it turned out to be as thin as my training.  On marathon weekend, surrounded by all the buzzing runners in the commemorative royal blue jackets, with thin pink elastoplast like strips on the arms, my confidence started to waiver.  I would not wear that jacket until after the race, I truly wasn't sure I could do it.  It had seemed like a fun and gung ho act to show up and enjoy a 4th Boston experience with no training, now it just seemed foolish.  Like kids before a chemistry test all I was listening to was runner's training plans, how many miles they had run, how many 20 or 22 milers they had put in.  When runners said they had struggled with a week or two, or backed off here on a tempo run, I started thinking about the fact that I hadn't been able to put on socks for two months without it hurting.  What was I thinking?

The only person who didn't seem to think I was crazy was Guy - I guess he realized how miserable I would have been running an easy 5 miler and then showing up to watch the race as I had long considered.  He knew I had to begin......

To compound matters the weather reports started changing from the desired 48f and breezy to 75-79f with the day prior hitting 85f. I redirected my anxiety to the constant scanning of weather. com; although ironically my brain told me it would have much less effect on me than on others.  With no training goal or PR to blow up due to the warm temperatures I should have been comforted, instead I was haunted by the memory of 2012 when I DNF'd in 90f temperatures despite being in the best shape of my life, and now added that to my list of woes.

The loading of buses at Boston Common was hot but friendly - some jostling and good humoured banter.  The bus ride seemed endless, there is a strange sense of foreboding as you realize after 40 mins of driving one way, that at some point you were going to have to get yourself back to that spot without the aid of an engine. Being processed through the endless portapotty lines and eventually walking the 20 mins to the start line saw me sweaty and hot before the race even began, with no sign of those clouds the meteorologists had promised.

Waiting for the 3rd wave of the race to start I glanced up at the two armed snipers poised on the roof top guarding us from harm.  One by one we runners started to wave at them.  The standing sniper, slowly raised an arm, and smiled, then began to wave more and more enthusiastically as the crowd cheered them.  His comrade lay prone on the roof and glared at his smiling officer but chose to stay dead pan behind his dark glasses, alert to all danger.  However, from the moment you start the Boston Marathon to the end it is impossible not to smile or cheer and even the toughest of the marines eventually crack - there it was a  wave from the impassive face, the spirit of this marathon had won out!

After four Boston's I feel I have finally nailed this interesting course.  In 2012 in extreme heat I had strong memories of being suffocated by the 90f weather even in the first five miles, with the heat steaming off all the bodies and concrete over powering me, even at the snail ten minute pace we were running.  Having trained all winter in 34f and being in great shape it was bitterly disappointing to be crawling along that year and anger and disappointed emanated from every hot pore of my skin that year, to the point I had DNF'd at mile 18 along with many others, with an IT band injury aggravated greatly by dehydration.  This year was different, I felt the heat, but no anger or frustration - it is what it is, no suffering about it!  Running with gratitude, excitement and sheer euphoria at the luck of being able to run a 4th Boston on such sketchy training also kept me mindful.  I divided the race into 5 X 5 miles, and had micro goals along the way to keep me interested.

The first five miles are downwhill, here I just wanted to stay controlled and use it for warm up, too fast here and your quads burn out at mile 16.  From 5 - 10 brought us to the hottest part of the race in Natick, where temperatures went from 74-79 f, hard as you are no where near done, and although this is a flat section you still need to be cautious.  At mile ten you are heading towards that wall of sound that is Wellesley - I swear you hear those raucous college kids at mile 11 ten minutes before you see them.  The nicer the weather the happier and drunker they are.  So many signs begging for kisses - so many scantily clad girls enjoying the race atmosphere.  As a fitting tribute to the 50th anniversary of women crashing the race there are also now plenty of good looking guys bearing signs such as 'Kiss me I'm hotter than those two girls either side of me'.  Micro goal for the tough middle section 10 - 15 - stalk your prey at Wellsley, find a cute guy to kiss.  Fortunately this year saw me double my yield as there were more men than ever.....I was ahead of goal!!!

At 15 the race starts to get interesting, all the downhill and flat is over and just before 16 the Newton Hills start to loom.  This section, until mile 21, is a series of not huge, but nonetheless challenging hills.  Starting at the back of the pack and running a 9 minute pace meant there was plenty of carnage by the time the hills began - stronger runners were already walking, their quads trashed by the first aggressive ten miles, and the unforgiving heat.  I felt good and was able to power up the hills without much change in pace.

The spectators are phenomenal throughout - a woman joined me at mile 15 wearing similar coloured clothing and declared she was joining me so she could benefit from my cheer squad.  A single syllable name is a huge advantage in the marathon world - printed in block letters you are greeted throughout the entire race with the chanting drinking game sound of 'ruth ruth ruth ruth' or 'Babe Ruth' 'Baby Ruth' or even 'Ruth, that's my Mom's name'.  Bull horns blare out 'Ruth, Aint that the Truth' one guy even started coaching me at mile 22, 'that's it high knee lift, relaxed shoulders, you'll be there in no time'.  My fastest miles were 22 and 24, getting to 25 was a little harder but I took comfort that for that final fifth of the race the crowd would pull me along through its own will and energy.

Its true that in a marathon you see all of life.  A woman ahead of me who looked around 30 had the following written on her shoulder 'stroke survivor 4/22/16', an amputee picked up his guide and in a tremendous show of strength ran carrying her above him across that finish line - the crowd went wild!  You also see terrible sights, a fit man of around 25 who looked like an incredible runner, doubled over at mile 21 crying, a woman with scarey huge brown splashes all over the back of her aqua shorts seemed to have a lot of room to maneouver through the finish chute....several stretcher cases, even less than a mile from the end.  By the last mile on Hereford and Boyleston, instead of handing you vaseline on lolly pop sticks for your 'boo boo's or chafing they direct their efforts to screaming your name and urging you on as if you are the only one in that race of 27,000 people.  If you have avoided the many offers of coors lite on the way from the college kids, and only taken the ice and swedish fish you have a better chance of making it to that finish line intact.  I pulled over around 8 times and physically stopped for ice and water, it added a whole five minutes to my time, but I was able to avoid the medical tent, which 2,000 runners ended up needing.

My take home on Boston this year - respect Mother Nature, respect the course. Micro goals work - especially if you take a moment to celebrate the five miles you have just achieved and how well you felt at the end of them.  Gratitude works too - being angry and resentful about the weather is a losing game.  But most of all, have a great group of friends ready at the end to help you to that pint of Sam Adams and raise a glass to the best marathon in America!

The 3 Week Boston Training Plan for those Foolish and Fifty

The radiologist used an X-ray to inject the right spot on my hip with dye and with it a lumpy and numb sensation slowly spread into my side.  My feet were firmly bound together with thick white tape to give the radiologist a more open angle on the hip.  My headphones were muffling the industrial noises with loud hip hop (for my hip op lol...) and I found myself descending slowly down that long and clanking tunnel of magnet trying to find out why oh why I had been in so much pain for the past 6 weeks.  My only goal as an older runner had been to do enough training to get to the start line healthy, and my Boston training was derailed just as it should have been starting; I hadn't been able to run since 23rd December.  My back and hip pain had worsened to the point that I couldn't even put on socks, let alone running shoes.   In her white coat the radiologist briskly and cheerfully ordered me to 'hop on down' off the table.   I just looked at her quizzically - this was the perfect metaphor for trying to run over the age of 50 as far as I was concerned.  She laughed and realized I was still firmly bound around the ankles, untaped me and we tried again.

The results showed a labral tear, bulging disc on L1 pressing on a nerve and a hamstring that resembled corn beef hash from so much scar tissue.  Nothing that was operable or could really receive treatment, but certainly no running.   Nothing in particular had caused it....just too much of everything.  Friends and family were sympathetic to my plight but agreed that maybe my running days were over and it was time to find more gentle pursuits, 'I had spent too long in the playground and now it was time to hit the library'.  Without any exercise sleeping was harder, I couldn't eat very much as I was burning no calories and was limited to around 30 mins of walking with the crazy energetic pup.  Poppy barked at me every time we hit the trail with the 'why don't you run', kind of unhelpful yap she specializes in.  It was a hard wet winter to be immobile.

Of course the tincture of time eventually lessened the pain, and trying to find some spot to watch Rose's swim meet in an overcrowded leisure center, I found that 20 mins on an upright exercise bike wasn't too painful.  By the start of March I could cross train at least...cross training then merged into 10 X 1 minute of easy running two weeks ago with only minor pain.

For many of us running is a big question mark that hangs over your head on a daily basis.  Can I run, should I run, how hard, how far, did I do enough, did I do too much?????  The Boston Marathon had been on my calendar all year, and sadly I was committed, non-refundable flights and special friends travelling from the UK just to meet us there and cheer me on.  So whilst I told myself I would be happy if I could only just jog 3-5 miles on Marathon Monday, there was a nagging question, could I do enough to show up on the start line having spent 10 weeks resting, and 3 weeks starting to run.

Torturing myself with this decision the clearest way was to triage my goals and set minimum standards.  So the first week I had to build to ten miles.  After five miles I had a pain in my side that wouldn't go away - so I left the flat canal path and grabbed Poppy and found that after another 4.5 on the trail it had gone away.  Still 9.5 isn't 10, and isn't enough to jog a marathon so I said 'you really have to hit 14 next time'.  A weekend away in Portland saw me manage a slow 14 on the Spring Water Corridor, my legs hurt a day later and I once again shelved any hope of running the race.  Two days later with the legs improving, I am planning an attempt on 18 this weekend.  2 miles warm up then a double loop of 8.  If the first loop sees me still in one piece I will try the second.  So whilst everyone else is in taper mode, I am on an aggressive build up!

The questions are all still there, but I am giving myself answers every day.  If I can't pass the 18 test I am not lining up in Hopkinton, if I do manage 18 I will have to assess how much it hurt and if it rendered me useless for a week later.....am I prepared to DNF and take the bus of shame if injuries start to flare up.

The Runner Passport sits on my desk, a bright and obnxious jolt of blue and gold, and I can't bring myself to open it.  I see friends posting there's on social media and chattering about their corrals and I don't want to join the fun. I am so happy just to be running again, but that crazy obsessive runner inside also needs the day to day reality check.  I am sure my chiropractor thinks I am deranged but come marathon morning I need to know I made the right choice.  So for all those beginning taper - enjoy, bask in all of your hard months of training, but I have a few more tests to take before I know how to make myself happy on Patriot's Day.