A Call for Responsible Content

“Weighing yourself is a disordered and ineffective coping strategy for managing the anxiety you feel about your body”. -Emily Fonnesbeck, RD

When I was younger, I lived on the scale. I’d wake up in the morning and weigh myself before I even brushed my teeth. Stepping on the scale was the very first thing I would think of each day. That wasn’t the only time I’d weigh myself, either. I’d weigh myself before I showered and after, before and after I ate or went for a run, and then I’d weigh myself before bed. I probably weighed myself at least three times a day and I’m sure there were days I weighed myself as many as six or seven times. I weighed myself constantly in hopes of seeing a smaller, more acceptable number. There was always a number in my head, a goal I was striving for, and I thought if I ever saw that number, it could all stop. I thought if the number was small enough, I could give myself permission to stop obsessively weighing myself, stop counting calories, stop cutting out food groups and skipping meals, and stop punishing myself when I slipped up and ate something “bad”. I thought that if I reached the right number on the scale, I could let go of all my stress and anxiety around food and my body and I would finally be happy. Now I know how wrong that was. The number on the scale was never going to bring me happiness.

The scale, and the number on it, controlled me. No matter how much I weighed, I’d convince myself I needed to weigh less. As long as I was weighing myself, I was bound to a number that was certain to make me unhappy. 

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If at 16 or 18 or 20, I saw an image of an elite runner standing on a scale and I could see her weight, I have no doubt I would I have been devastated. The eating disorder and body dysmorphia I was already struggling with would have been intensified in an instant. This is why now, a few years wiser and more recovered from my eating disorder, when I see an elite runner who has built a platform as a body acceptance advocate share an image of herself on a scale where you can easily see her weight, I feel a strong responsibility to speak out.

You can promote body acceptance or advertise for a scale. You can’t do both. 

I feel extremely grateful to say that I am no longer triggered when I see someone else’s weight, but I know how deeply this can impact others, especially vulnerable young women and girls, because I’ve been there. If you gain popularity and a platform by speaking out against the idea that you need to be rail thin to be fast, then you have a responsibility to your supporters to use that platform wisely. If you create a message intended to help a following of vulnerable young women and girls, you owe it to those followers to not promote messages or products that can lead directly to harmful thinking and behaviors.

When speaking out against this athlete’s promotion of a scale and the carelessness of posting her weight, I received a lot of criticism. I was told that in requesting she be more conscious of how sharing her weight can harm her followers, I was being controlling. I was told that it’s unreasonable to ask people to censor their posts so that others aren’t triggered and that anyone triggered by someone’s weight is “bound to fail”. I was told that I was projecting my own issues onto the post and that if I see this post as negative, I need to take a look in the mirror. I was told that if someone is “that sensitive to the number on a scale, they should be the one to moderate what they ingest”. These comments are so incredibly stigmatizing and it pains me to think about how many people are potentially being hurt by reading them. 

So let’s take a look at some of this criticism. Is it too much to ask someone to censor their posts so that others aren’t triggered? Maybe. But if that person claims they are sharing their journey to help people struggling with body image, I really, really don’t think it is. In fact, I don’t see it as censorship at all. It’s a call to be more responsible, and to stay true to your message. If you want to post numbers like weight and bod pod results, fine, but then you can’t also say you want to help people struggling with body image. Posting those numbers does nothing but harm individuals struggling, along with solidifying the idea that runners have to be lean, and a lower than average weight. Many people make the argument that it’s refreshing to see an athlete that “weighs more than most elites”, but the fact of the matter is, she still weighs far less than the average American woman and sharing her weight opens up a breeding zone for comparison. If you truly want to help people struggling with disordered thoughts and behaviors around food and their body, then refraining from posting your weight shouldn’t be much of an ask. If you truly want to promote body acceptance, be more aware of what triggers body dissatisfaction.

Next, am I projecting “my issues” onto the post? Totally. I’m projecting because I know 30 million people suffer with eating disorders in the US and that eating disorders are the deadliest mental illness. I’m sharing “my issues” with the hope that others struggling with the same thing can see they are not alone. This line of thinking—this “you’re projecting your own issues, look in the mirror”—is why the stigma around eating disorders and mental illness continues to exist. It’s why people continue to suffer in silence.

Now, let’s address the idea that if you’re triggered by a number on a scale it’s your responsibility to moderate the content you ingest. Sure, if you are struggling with an eating disorder or body dysmorphia and you are aware of your illness, it would be in your best interest to moderate what you ingest to the extent that you’re able. But if you’re following a “body positive” account, shouldn’t this content be considered safe? If an account is truly body positive, there won’t be content triggering to those with disordered eating or body image concerns. Anyone working to help individuals who are struggling, and doing a good job of it, is mindful of what they post and any potential harm their words, images, or numbers could cause. Of course, this is all if you already recognize you’re struggling, which most people don’t and in those (read: most) cases, this type of content will just fuel the fire. Again, I know because I’ve been there.

Finally, if you are triggered by a number, be it weight or something else, you are not bound to fail. I’m honestly not sure what the failure we’re referring to here is, but I know you’re not bound for it. If you are triggered by an elite athlete posting their weight there is nothing wrong with you, you are human. (Even if you didn’t feel triggered by it, but feel upset about it like I do, you’re human.) We live in a culture that assigns worth to numbers like size and weight, it’s not at all surprising if seeing these numbers brings you anxiety and stress. These numbers are meaningless in that they don’t actually tell us anything about a person or a person’s health, but unfortunately in our society, they matter a lot. It’s easy to tell someone not to look or not to care about someone else’s weight, but it’s a lot more difficult to actually ignore these numbers in practice, especially if you’re battling a mental illness. If we want to move our society forward in a way that values humans over bodies, the comparison-breeding numbers need to go. 

If you’re following accounts that trigger you or make you feel bad, its OK to unfollow them. Unfollow them even if you think they are *supposed* to be helping you. It’s OK to be skeptical, not every post with #bodypositivity is useful, sometimes it’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You know what’s best for you and if someone is praised for their transparency and bravery but you still find their message triggering, know that your feelings are valid and it’s on them to fix it rather than on you to get over it.

As always, you are not alone and you deserve any help and support you need. You also deserve actual body acceptance, and resources that follow through on helping you with it. 

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If you’re struggling with disordered thoughts or behaviors around food, your body, or exercise, help is available. Visit the NEDA Help & Support Page Here or call the NEDA Hotline: (800) 931-2237

Here are a few accounts that I’ve found helpful on my recovery journey! Let me know what accounts you enjoy!

• bodyposipanda
• chr1styharrison
• shesallfatpod
• themirnavator
• trustyourbodyproject

Injuries Happen

Originally published in the Lane 9 Project newsletter. Subscribe here! 

Sometimes you think you do everything right and you still end up injured. That’s the boat I’m in right now.

A few weeks before the NYC marathon I felt a little pain in my foot. Not even pain really, just something I noticed, an area feeling a little off. I took note of it in my training log and ran a couple more days before backing off because the feeling was still there. Once I backed off, the discomfort subsided, and it was back to business as usual. Just a little niggle, maybe a close call, but now I was in the clear. Until I wasn’t.

A few days later, the (sort of) pain returned, so I eased up again. I eased up, the pain vanished, I ran normally, it came back, I eased up, the pain vanished, I ran normally, it came back. Wash, rinse, repeat for the next couple of weeks. Again and again it vanished then came back, but it never exceeded just a slight discomfort, so I never suspected anything serious. In the end, I chalked it up to soreness resulting from a long training cycle and the concrete floor of my classroom that I spend most of my day walking around on. Before I knew it, it was the week of New York and the pain was so subtle I had to think about it to notice it. I deemed myself fine and set off for the marathon. I knew I was wrong around mile 8 in New York, when the pain intensified and I worried I wouldn’t finish the race.

Since mending my relationship with running, I’ve worked hard to train smart and listen to my body, and I am very proud of the progress I have made. I’ve taken more unplanned rest than ever before, I’ve slowed way down on easy runs, and I’ve prioritized sleep and nutrition. I try to do everything “right”, but I ended up with a stress fracture anyway.

When my doctor gave me the dreaded stress fracture diagnosis, I felt all the injury feels. Mad, annoyed, frustrated, sad, the list goes on. But most of all, I was disappointed. I was disappointed in myself because I felt like I failed at taking care of my body, something I’ve worked so hard on. For a little while I blamed myself and believed it was my fault  that I was injured. For a few days, it left me feeling pretty low.

In the days following the diagnoses, I rehashed my training and my pain leading up to New York. I pictured every run and tried to think if there was more pain than I had wanted to admit. I wondered if I should have done something different so I wouldn’t have ended up in this walking boot. But the more and more I analyzed it, the more I realized that there’s probably not much I could have done.

My old friend, walking boot

The last time I had a stress fracture I wasn’t taking care of myself. My eating was disordered, my mental health was a mess, and I was without a doubt overtraining. This time, I didn’t fall victim to any of those things. I ate enough, I rested often, and I balanced my training with my busy work schedule so I wouldn’t overtrain. Sure, maybe I should have rested longer when I first felt the pain, but as any runner knows, oftentimes the line between soreness and injury is a blurry one.

I got injured, pretty seriously, but it isn’t my fault. Sometimes, we do the best we can and we get injured anyway, it’s a natural consequence of endurance sports. Even the most high-level athletes with ample access to recovery and injury prevention techniques get injured. Seriously, it happens. So the next time you’re injured, because there is going to be a next time, give yourself a little grace. Don’t beat yourself up and look at it as an opportunity instead. Right now, I’m biking and aqua jogging in an attempt to keep some fitness for spring racing, but I’m also taking a much more relaxed approach, as to give my mind the break it needs from intense, focused workouts. I’m also focusing on strength, something my schedule has led me to neglect this past year.

Maybe I should have taken my pain a little more seriously, and I’ll work hard to be more in tune with my body once I’m running again. I’m a work in progress. I don’t endorse running through injury, but sometimes all of us make the wrong call when we’re walking that line and there’s no use punishing yourself when you make that mistake. In the end, I’m not stressing myself out or beating myself up because injuries happen and that’s life.

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Summer Running: You’re Doing Just Fine

Every year, around this point in summer, I begin to feel a little bit of burnout and lack of motivation. It’s been hot for months now, but there doesn’t seem to be any relief in sight and the doubt begins to creep in. Paces that should feel easy are leaving me lying on the floor in a pool of sweat with a popsicle in my mouth. Workouts that sound challenging and fun turnout to be damn near impossible. And long runs? Yikes.

I began my summer training this year coming back from a minor injury I had after the Boston Marathon. Now, this comeback did happen in May, but  in D.C. May is already hot and humid, so that’s when summer training begins in my book. Building my fitness back up during 80 degree runs with 80% humidity was discouraging and for a while I couldn’t seem to figure out what I was doing wrong. I ran a 10K after a few weeks back and although I had zero expectations for myself, I still felt a pang of disappointment when I ran splits close to my marathon pace. Despite knowing what heat does to the human body and how it affects running, I let the idea that I was unfit creep in. I began to think I wasn’t working hard enough and I wouldn’t reach my fall goals. After DNF-ing virtually every hard workout I ran in June, I was letting the Negative Nancy in my head take over.

I tried to keep things in perspective though. I went back and reviewed notes in my training log from last summer before I ran a huge marathon PR in the fall and was reassured by the fact that I was running even slower and felt even worse last year than I did now. I read this article by David Roche again and again and forced myself to stop putting so much weight on the watch. I started doing my workouts on the treadmill to eliminate the heat factor and finally hit the paces I’d been hoping to.

Nearing the end of July, I toed the line to run the Crystal City Twilighter 5k, my first 5k since December of 2016. The race is notoriously hot and I was totally unsure of where my fitness and speed stood, so in the week leading up to the race I backed off my hopes of setting a PR and I set out just to have fun and set a benchmark for my next race. But when the day came and it was rainy (like poured for 12 hours rainy) and cool. The buckets of rain coming down were not exactly the ideal race weather for most people but if I learned anything from Boston 2018, it’s that rain might be my thing. Despite what to me seemed like a poor couple months of training, I ran a 17 second personal best. I was reassured that I’m progressing just fine, but I have still had to word hard to remember that.

A little over a week ago I was on vacation in Costa Rica. Although I ran pretty regularly and only took one extra, unplanned “rest” day (we hiked so it wasn’t true rest), my running was not the same quality as at home. The weather was similar, but I did the same run each day I was there and it consisted of a steep mile-long down hill, back and fourth miles on the beach, and back up that steep hill. After the first two runs I could barely walk down stairs and by the third, my legs were toast. Regardless, I maintained a pretty solid attitude throughout and focused on enjoying my trip, but when I got home and went back to usual training the negative thoughts swirled around my mind once again. I started the week off with some slow, heavy miles but had an OK run mid-week. I was feeling a little better before I had a long run that left me feeling more beat up than anticipated over the weekend and I worried about my strength. But here we are on a Monday rest day and I’m taking a minute to reflect and remind myself, I’m doing totally fine.

 

Seriously. I’m doing just fine and so are you. One or two or three runs don’t define your fitness. One or two weeks don’t even define your fitness. The summer is so tricky and if you live somewhere hot and humid, it’s virtually impossible to really know where your fitness is. So for the next month or two, I’m going to keep reminding myself of that and remember that if I’m putting in the work I will be ready when the heat subsides. Summer running is hard and it’s even more mentally challenging than physically at times, but hard, slow, sluggish summer miles are when fall breakthroughs are made.

No Thank You

Inspired by Lauren Fleshman and Oiselle

No thank you to covering up and hiding behind clothes that feel safe. No thank you to keeping the tank on while running in 100 degree weather, for fear of being judged as not thin enough. No thank you to ideal body types and unrealistic standards. No thank you to diets, restriction, and food rules. No thank you to excuses like “I’m not hungry” or “I just ate”, when your mouth is watering and your stomach is rumbling. No thank you to gluten-free, fat-free, carb-free. No thank you too anything ‘free’ other than my own body. No thank you to BMI charts. No thank you to earning desert and exercising away guilt. No thank you to arguments about macros and why “that diet worked for me”. No thank you to Weight-Watchers and Flat Tummy Co. targeting teens.No thank you to scales. No thank you to diet culture.

No thank you to gazing eyes of strange men. No thank you to catcalls and “you should smile more”. No thank you to “hey baby”. No thank you to “bitch”, when I ignore you. No thank you to older men calling me honey. No thank you to looking over my shoulder when I’m walking alone. No thank you to holding my keys between my knuckles. No thank you to checking the backseat before getting in the car. No thank you to pretending to talk on the phone in parking garages and on the street once the sun has gone down.

No thank you to undermining educators. No thank you to scripted curriculums and shackles on creative freedom. No thank you to teaching about Christopher Columbus as if he were a hero. No thank you to standardized testing. No thank you to taking resources from “failing public schools”. No thank you to buying books for my classroom with my own money. No thank you to taking work home every night, yet barely earning enough to make ends meet. No thank you to iPads as babysitters. No thank you to neighborhoods so unsafe that kids can’t play outside. No thank you to low expectations placed on low-income students and students of color. No thank you to segregation. No thank you to guns.

No thank you to gender stereotypes and unequal pay. No thank you to questions of marriage and children. No thank you to “that’s so cute” in response to my profession as an educator. No thank you to mansplaining. No thank you to fear of failure. No thank you to the linear career path. No thank you to settling. No thank you to the appreciation of what you have as an excuse not to want and work for more.

No thank you.

 

Boston Bound: Weather is Weather

The Boston Marathon is known for many things, among those things is its unpredictable weather. Marathon Monday has seen everything from blizzards to 90 plus degree days. There’s a lot of information out there about how to prepare for the Boston Marathon down to the mile by mile, but one thing you cannot possibly prepare for is the weather.

Screenshot of the B.A.A. website. “Unusual” weather. Isn’t Boston weather always unusual?

 

Image from Reddit

We’re now within a week of the 2018 Boston Marathon and it seems like the weather is all that anyone is talking about. Participants are glued to the Weather App, as if willing a mild forecast to appear. After two hot years, many runners, myself included, believe we’re due for a good weather year. Unfortunately, it looks as if that might not be the case. The current forecast is calling for rain and high-winds. But remember, this is Boston we’re talking about so we actually have no idea. (Bring multiple race day outfit options.)

Looking at the current forecast it’s easy to freak out and think it’s impossible to have a good race. Don’t do that. That’s so far from the truth. Weather is weather and you can’t do anything about it, so instead focus on controlling the controllables. Control what you do this week as far as running, eating, and sleeping. Control how much time you spend on your feet on Sunday. Control your attitude.

If you adjust your expectations and run a smart race you can absolutely run your best marathon yet, no matter how bad the weather is.

It might be hard to believe but you can have a great race regardless of the weather. A great race in bad conditions may not mean a personal best time, but there’s no reason it can’t be your smartest, strongest, or toughest race.  

Taking a quick time-out on the course during Boston 2017

Last year’s race brought temperatures in the mid-70’s with relentless sun. The Boston Athletic Association sent out an email to participants before the race, warning of warm temps and urging runners to slow their pace to account for the conditions. I didn’t listen. Although I’d been training through the winter and only had a handful of warm days under my belt, I thought to myself “I’ve got this, I’d rather run in heat than cold anyway”. I was dead set on running a PR and I didn’t think the weather would get in the way of that. I took off in Hopkinton with the same race plan I would have had if it were 45 degrees and overcast, and I expected to achieve the same result. I refused to adjust my expectations to account for the weather and I learned my lesson the hard way. I ended up walking before I reached the half and I was lucky to even finish, something many runners who made the same mistake that day couldn’t say.

 

When I ran the Chicago Marathon this fall, it was a similarly warm day, reaching the low-70’s with significant humidity. But this time, I took the lesson I learned in Boston and applied it. I adjusted my expectations for the weather and reminded myself to control the controllables. I pushed my goal time back by about five minutes and told myself that the only thing that mattered was running a smart race. As a result, the same heat that had crippled me in Boston barely phased me in Chicago and I managed to run the second half of the race fast enough to hit my original goal time.

Chicago 2017, having the best time

We won’t likely have to worry about being defeated by heat in Boston this year, but the idea stays the same. Control the controllables and adjust your expectations for the weather. If we’re facing rain and a head wind, know you won’t be able to hold the same pace you would have if there was no wind. Dress appropriately and try to stay warm in athletes village. Don’t decide that you can’t run well because the weather isn’t perfect. If you believe this you certainly won’t. The time on the clock is one way to measure the success of a race. One way. Not the only way. If the weather is such that it is likely to slow you down, accept that and slow down from the start. You can always speed up if the weather improves or if you’re feeling great, but you’re much more likely to punish yourself by running too fast early on than by running too slow. Instead of aligning your goals solely with pace, base your goals on effort. Aim to make those early miles as easy as possible and run just beyond comfort for most of the race so that you can gut it out in the end rather than slog to the finish. If you adjust your expectations and run a smart race you can absolutely run your best marathon yet, no matter how bad the weather is. Your best race may not be reflected in your time, but you’ll feel it in your legs and in your heart.

The time on the clock is one way to measure the success of a race. One way. Not the only way.

Finally, if you do make the mistakes I made in Boston last year, don’t let that take the experience away from you. You’re running the Boston Marathon. Again, you are running the BOSTON FREAKING MARATHON. Do not take that for granted. Running this race is an incredible privilege and although it may not seem like it among the mass of people during the race, you’re one of a small fraction of runners who has made it here. If you make mistakes and you suffer because of it, don’t beat yourself up about it. Everyone has those races. Instead, shift your perspective. Soak up the experience a little more. High-five kids, thank volunteers, and encourage those around you (last year, a fellow run-walker got me through some of the toughest miles of mile life). And no matter what the time on the clock says when you cross that finish line, celebrate.

Boston Bound

We’re 8 days out from the 2018 Boston Marathon and the buzz is real! As I head into this final taper week, I’m reflecting on the two years since my first Boston Marathon and the training I’ve put in leading up to this year’s race. This will be my third Marathon Monday and we all know, third time’s a charm.

I ran the Boston Marathon for the first time in 2016. It was a fairly hot day but I managed to eke out an 11-second PR. At last year’s race, things didn’t go so smoothly. Having run a PR the year before, I didn’t consider how difficult the course actually is or how much the weather can impact marathon performance. It was a hot day (like really hot) but I didn’t adjust my expectations for the weather and I paid for it hard. By the half, I was done for and the rest of the race was a crawl to the finish. I ran my slowest marathon to date and didn’t earn my ticket back to Boston that day. (Fortunately I found a small race to enter in May, where I was able to run a qualifying time.)

After last year’s race I began working with a coach for the first time since college. I had run some respectable marathon times, but I knew I had not touched my potential and that working with a coach was what I needed. Since then, my training has changed completely and I’ve been a far smarter runner than I ever was before.

I would argue that the build up to this year’s Boston Marathon has been my most successful training cycle ever. With the exception of a small injury that interrupted a couple weeks of training, I’ve run longer long runs, faster workouts, and (slightly) higher mileage. In April, I ran a 3 minute half marathon PR with gas left in the tank. Before the half marathon I ran a workout that consisted of 4×5 minutes at half-marathon effort with 2 minutes easy jog recovery. This Thursday, I ran the same workout but my average mile pace was 15-20 seconds faster than the previous workout, and it felt much easier.

As I cooled down from that workout on Thursday, I thought about how far I’ve come since June when I began working with my coach and how much progress I’ve made in just this one training build-up. My senior year of college, I ran a 5k on the track in 20 minutes and 9 seconds, a pace of 6:29 per mile. During Thursday’s workout I ran 4 miles, in the middle of an 8 mile total workout, at roughly 10 seconds per mile faster than that. The actual pace is arbitrary, but the difference in the pace I ran in college versus the pace I ran this week isn’t. When it hit me that I could run 4 miles faster than I could race a 5k in college I had to hold back some happy tears. Although I had already seen improvement in my times during April’s half marathon, for me this workout was confirmation of just how far I have come.

When it hit me that I could run 4 miles faster than I could race a 5k in college I had to hold back some happy tears.

When I left college, I truly believed I would never run fast again.  I was convinced that everyone peaks in college and if you don’t, you’ve missed your chance. I also didn’t think I could ever wholeheartedly love running again. For years, I’ve been trying to run fast again in order to prove to myself you don’t have to peak in college. But I’ve also been stuck believing that fast race times were the only way I would enjoy running again.

This time around, I’ve found the joy in the process and the journey has been more fun than hard work.

For the first time in 7 or 8 years, I’m heading into a big race and I don’t feel the need to prove anything to myself or to anyone else. This time around, I’ve found the joy in the process and the journey has been more fun than hard work. I have goals in mind and I truly think I’m ready to run a great time, but regardless of the outcome I already feel as though I’ve accomplished so much. I’m healthy and I’m having so much fun running. I’ve proven my speed and fitness to myself in my workouts and I’ve come to really, truly appreciate what my body can do for me. Running a fast time in Boston would simply be the cherry on top. To step on that starting line in Hopkinton happy and healthy is a privilege that I will not take for granted.

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Will you be running the Boston Marathon? What are your race or training goals?

Shamrock Half Marathon

This weekend I ran the Shamrock Half Marathon in Virginia Beach, my fifth half marathon. Previous to this race I ran a half in the spring of 2014 back home in upstate New York, weeks after recovering from pneumonia (it wasn’t pretty), and the Rock and Roll D.C. half the next 3 springs after that. The first two races were rough and didn’t yield great times, but the third and fourth we more fun, faster, and fueled a desire to find out what I can do at the distance. Rock and Roll D.C. is a pretty tough course, featuring a brutal hill around mile 7. My PR was run on this course, so I knew I wanted to race something flat. According to Google, the Shamrock Half Marathon was exactly what I wanted.

Over the past few months I’ve been preparing for the half, as well as the upcoming Boston Marathon and my workouts told me I was ready to run a PR, but I wasn’t sure by how much. Having run so few half marathons in a 5 year span, I have a hard time predicting what I can do. I decided my goal was to run happy, smart, and try to run under a 1:27, which would give me at least a 90 second PR.

Leading up to the race I had a rough week. Teaching is hard and parent relationships are even harder. After taking an extra rest day on Wednesday to sit on my couch and cry (#transparency), I couldn’t wait to get away for the weekend and leave the stress behind. Friday and Saturday I fought an upset stomach, but I was determined not to let anything stand in the way of a fun race and a fast time.

Race morning was the type of weather distance runners dream of-something I hadn’t experienced in my previous 4 half marathons or any of the 7 full marathons I’d run. It was around 40 degrees, overcast, and no wind. I knew it was going to be a good day.

As the start time approached and we headed to our corrals, I felt excited and confident. I knew I was capable of running faster than I ever have before and I was ready to go out and prove that to myself. Before the race, my coach wrote to me, “the race is a celebration, not a test”. This became my mantra for the weekend. I didn’t realize until later that with this in mind I hardly felt a single nerve before the gun went off. I was simply ready to celebrate.

After a chilly wait, the countdown began and before I knew it, we were off. The night before, I wrote down my race plan, in short, it was: have fun, start conservative, make the last three miles the fastest. When I passed the first mile marker, I worried I was going to be in trouble. Instead of the 6:45 I’d planned on, I went out in a 6:33–a pace that would result in big PR, IF I maintained it. For the next mile, I tried to back off, ease the pace a little and just feel good. I ran a 6:39 and tucked in behind a couple I overheard saying they wanted to stick with 6:40’s for a while (they didn’t run a single 6:40, they ran much faster). The miles passed and I continued to tick off miles between 6:30 and 6:36 consistently. I felt good, but since I was already running faster than anticipated, I was hesitant to try speeding up.

The race is relatively large, but around mile 6-7 I found myself isolated. There was a pack up ahead, but I wasn’t in a position to make up the 15 or so seconds and try to hang on. For a while it started to feel like a time trial as I passing less than one person a mile. Miles 8 and 9 were quiet and lonely and they felt long as my body started to feel fatigued, but as I looked at my watch, my pace remained consistent. I knew if I could make it to mile 10 on pace without too much pain, I’d be in a great place.

Finally, there were 3 miles to go and as I got closer to the end of the race the number of spectators began to increase, a relief after the miles of silence. At mile 10 I began to push the pace a little and managed to run 10, 11, and 12 under 6:30. Finally, for mile 13 I tried to give it my all and dipped below 6:20 for the first time. I was happy to achieve my goal of running the last few miles the fastest but was a little frustrated I didn’t run them faster. Every time I pushed a little too hard, I felt like I was going to throw up. After throwing up with 200 meters to go at the Chicago marathon I wasn’t going to risk that, so I pumped the brakes a little each time and let the feeling pass. Finally, when I crossed the finish line, I was greeted with a 3 minute PR.

I am thrilled with the race I had and am so happy I ran a smart, consistent race the whole way but I also have a lot to take away from the experience. It wasn’t perfect and I finished with way too much left in the tank. My biggest takeaway from the race is I want to run more half marathons. Although I’m pleased with my time and my race, it felt a bit like a long tempo workout. I ran consistent and I felt uncomfortable in the last few miles but I never truly challenged myself. I was so scared to fall apart in the last few miles that I didn’t have the guts to push the middle miles. I put pressure on myself to run a smart race this time around, but I’ll need to experiment and take chances in future races if I want to see what I’m truly capable of. I need to practice the distance more to figure out how much I can make it hurt without falling apart.

For the next few weeks I’ll turn my focus solely to prepping for the Boston Marathon, but after that, I look forward to racing more and taking some risks.

I’m done letting my college running failures define my ability

At 17, I was a senior ending my high school running career on a high note. After years of hard work, I was at the top of the section in my event and for the first time I had the opportunity to compete at the New York State Championship meet (as an individual). My last two races of my senior year were the fastest races I’d ever run. I was lucky enough to finish up my high school athletic journey in the most ideal way. I could close that chapter of my life and package it up neatly with a ribbon on top.

I got to college with big goals of improving upon my high school successes and those around me shared those dreams and expectations. But the success I had in high school didn’t follow me to college. After a decent freshman year I began to feel the pressure to perform and the joy of running started to slip away. I was used to being the best; my senior year of high school had conditioned me to believe that winning was easy. But I wasn’t winning anymore and to some, if I wasn’t winning I wasn’t successful–a belief I started to internalize.

By the winter of my sophomore year burnout was setting in. I was tired and overtrained.  Stepping on a starting line brought me more and more anxiety each week. I no longer felt the butterflies-in-my-stomach type of nerves that most athletes experience before competition, now I just felt pure dread. I hated running but I stayed on the team because I was a runner and running is what I did. I had no identity outside of running and I felt that if I stopped competing I wouldn’t know who I was.

Running was my enemy for the next two and half years.  It seemed like the harder I tried, the slower I got. Somewhere in the back of my mind I always felt like my breakthrough was just around the corner and I would formulate some great comeback, so I kept slogging away despite my misery. Spoiler alert: there was never a comeback. 

For years after, I allowed my college running experience to define who I was as a runner. I went into college thinking I was above average and left believing I was below it. My mindset for the next three to four years was that because I didn’t run well in college I must be a bad runner. I created this idea that a runner could only peak in college and now that college was behind me, I would never get any better.

Fortunately, with the help of some great running friends (shoutout badass lady gang) and an incredible coach (shoutout badass lady coach), I’m turning this idea upside down.

I’ve finally realized the notion that everyone peaks in college is bullshit. We refer to our high school and college athletic careers as glory days and when we graduate we refer to ourselves as NARPS (non athletic regular people) and joke that we’re washed up, but that doesn’t have to be the case. If you’re not a successful runner in college, it doesn’t mean you can never be successful and it certainly doesn’t mean you’ve missed out on your peak. 

If you’re a runner, whether in high school, college, or beyond and you’re struggling, take comfort in the fact that your underwhelming performance right now does not define you as an athlete. Maybe you need a break, maybe you’re dealing with other stressors, maybe you’re struggling with mental health, maybe you need to change up you training or work with a different coach. A lot of these scenarios applied to me in college and for the most part, I’ve figured them out. It wasn’t right away and it certainly wasn’t easy but now, 5 years after ending my collegiate running career, I’m doing things I never would have thought possible.

Don’t be afraid to set new goals and go after them. Don’t let past failures lead you to believe your potential is limited.

This morning, I ran 18 miles, a distance that would have been unthinkable to my college self. Not only did I run that distance, but I ran it faster than I ran most of my 6-8 mile runs in college. These days my tempo pace is faster, my 5k pace is faster, and my marathon pace is fast enough to put me in the top 5% of finishers at the Chicago Marathon. Five years ago, if you tried to tell me this would be the case I would have laughed in your face. It hasn’t been an easy road, but I’m finally done allowing my collegiate running failures to define my potential. I’m not sure what I’m capable of but I’m sure that I’m ready to find out. Running is fun again and I’m back to feeling those butterfly type nerves before races, not dread. And I’m not necessarily working harder than I was 5 years ago but I am working smarter and running happier.

Stop defining yourself by your failures and maybe you’ll see what your potential really is. 

Ready to Compete

I always assumed my competitive running career had an end date. Run for four years in high school, run for four years in college, and then become a recreational runner. I was fine with that. College robbed me of my joy for racing, leaving me anxious rather than competitive. Leaving the competitive running scene was exactly what I wanted.

I graduated college and ran my first marathon the following fall. Being a bucket list item, my marathon plan was ‘one and done’. My only goal was to make it to the finish line without injury, a lofty goal considering I’d just healed from a stress fracture and my longest lifetime run was 12.5 miles, but I did it. I still remember the pain I felt after crossing that finish line, I legitimately feared I had done irreparable damage to my body. But I hadn’t. I was healthy and once the pain subsided, I decided I needed to do that again. I had more in me and I wasn’t going to sit back and accept that race as my marathon PR.

I set my eyes on Boston. A goal that seemed insane, but I thought maybe with some actual training, I could eek out the BQ. A year later, in a 27 minute PR, that’s exactly what I did. Looking back at the lackluster training [in comparison to what I’m doing now], the failure to fuel during my race, and the surely inadequate amount of water I consumed, I’m still not sure how it happened. I had literally no idea what I was doing, but with some combination of ability and luck, it happened. I continued this [strongly not recommended] method of training and racing, improving upon it only slightly, for four more marathons. I was running some decent times on some OK training, but after finishing three marathons within 3 minutes of each other I began to crave a breakthrough.

Last spring, with 6 marathons on my Garmin, I decided I wanted to up my game a little. I wasn’t quite ready to compete again, but I wanted to get a little faster. I hired a coach, started working harder, and set a goal for the Chicago marathon in the fall. I wasn’t going to race per se, but I was determined to run fast.

For many, setting goals and trying to run fast is the same as competing, but I was scared to call it that. I was terrified to let my competitive side take over. In college, my competitive side destroyed me. My drive to be the best came above all else and manifested in a very unhealthy way (and caused me to never actually become the best or reach my potential). I worked myself to the point of overtraining, I lost my period, I suffered injuries, and I struggled with an eating disorder. I wanted to get fast, but racing again seemed out of the question.

 

2017 Chicago Marathon

 

But today, as I finished up my long run, the desire to compete was strong. My run in Chicago went better than I had hoped, but I didn’t toe that line with the mindset that I was going to compete. Instead, I thought, “let’s see what happens”. I didn’t want to set my expectations too high because I was so scared to let myself down. For so long in college, I was left feeling disappointed and ashamed after races. I didn’t want to do that to myself anymore. But I am sick of being afraid. Five years after graduating college and leaving my competitive running career behind, I’m ready to reclaim it. I want to race again.

I have no intentions of setting unrealistic goals of winning big races, I know where my abilities lie. But I am ready to set big, scary goals, that may be a bit crazy while remaining just inside the realm of possibility. I’m ready to toe the line at races and be fearless. I’m ready to start a race with the confidence that I will do what I set out to do rather than to just see what happens. From now on, I refuse to let myself be comfortable in the last miles of the race. I will no longer allow fellow runners to pass me in the last mile without a fight because I’m content with my projected finish time. I’ve spent the last five years teetering on the line of giving it my all and holding something back but I will not hold back any longer. I am ready to test my limits. I am ready to see what my best really looks like.

I’m going to compete again. I’m going to race again.

Competing isn’t for everyone, people run races for different reasons. But I feel like I’ve been robbing myself of my true potential for years and I’m ready to see where my limit really is.