From Home, With Love: 6,570 Miles of Gratitude
In 2010, retired army veteran Mike Ehredt embarked on Project America Run, a personal journey across the United States to honor the American soldiers who had lost their lives in Iraq. Running more than 30 miles a day, alone, Mike stopped every mile from the Oregon coast to the Coast of Maine to plant a flag inscribed with the name, rank, age, and hometown of a fallen American soldier.
But he didn’t stop there. In 2012, he ran 2,146 miles from the Canadian border to Galveston, TX, and placed flags in remembrance of every American casualty in Afghanistan. We did a fun Q+A with him, post-run. The end result of all of his dedication and time? A 6,570-mile wall of honor and gratitude, built out of one man’s humble objective to show his profound thanks to the men and women who sacrificed their lives for America’s freedom.
(Picture from Operation Gratitude.)
On a day when we in the United States honor those who serve, and send our gratitude to their families, we wanted to again highlight Mike and his amazing runs, and give you an opportunity to pay it forward. Hyland’s, who supports both AMR and Project America Run, also supports Operation Gratitude. This year, they’re asking people to write From Home, With Love letters to the troops, which will be included, along with some Defend Severe Cold + Flu, in some of the 150,000+ care packages Operation Gratitude sends annually.
Have five minutes to write a note to a service member? I hope so. It’s super easy….you don’t even have to leave your keyboard. Click here to thank them, share some of your thoughts, and make somebody’s day. Thank you—and more importantly, thank you to everybody and every family who serves.
Baring My Boot + My Newest Running Injury
Fall fashion: boot + retro Saucony Jazz. It’s a “do” in my book.
Ok, it’s time for me to come clean. For the past three weeks, I have been clomping around in a boot—the same hot, black boot that I’ve been lucky enough to clomp around in a couple times since 2007.
Unlike the previous two times—stress fractures, both—I am blessed with a new-to-me injury. A plantar plate strain; likely grade 2, if you want to play along. It feels like a bundle of torn, angry nerves under the ball of my right foot, mostly under my second and third toes. It flares up randomly—lying in bed, sitting at the computer, whenever it feels like it—even though I’ve been booted for 3 weeks. (It’s been my experience with stress fractures that when you put it in the boot, it shuts its little fractured mouth. Not the case with this lovely.)
I first noticed the flare after an 18-miler on Sunday in San Diego. I had walked on the beach barefoot for an hour on Saturday and Monday, and then, even though I was cognizant of significant pain I hadn’t felt before, I, like a stupid mother runner, ran. Because the beautiful trails of Torrey Pines were so close and I just had to run there on Tuesday. “So close” turned out to be 9 miles round-trip, putting me at 27 miles in 3 days. Who did I think I was? I usually average around 18 miles a week.
So I came home, complained to Grant that something was wrong with my foot, and then guess what? I ran again. Yep, line me up for a MacArthur Genius Grant. Six or so miles on a group trail run with a swift Strava crew: too much fun for me to miss, I rationalized.
Everything that’s wrong with my right foot, minus the arch.
To be fair, too many miles was likely my tipping point. My right foot is my Achilles heel: I’ve had (failed) bunion surgery, a neuroma removed, a broken fourth toe, and arches so high, you could drive a semi under them. “You’re not genetically blessed,” the podiatrist noted. And climbing, which I did for miles and miles to prepare for Pikes Peak Ascent, is good for the joints, but it’s a lot of pressure on the ball of the foot, especially one that isn’t genetically blessed.
On the Strava run, I got to run with trail running star Sage Canady (in the green in back)…how could I resist?
Anyway, that trail run on October 9 was the last time I ran.
I would’ve come clean a few weeks ago, but I had Saucony 26Strong, and 26.2 miles in Philadelphia with Kelly Pollock on my mind, and I can’t overemphasize how much I wanted to run Philly with her. I have coached her since July, and I’ve mentally put us on the Philly course so many times, laughing and taking pictures and staying strong, that not following through made me nauseous. I know she’s very capable, but I also know she signed up for the full experience. I did too.
I really thought that if I rested my foot, and swam and biked my butt off, I could, with an 18-miler under my Sauconys, make it to race day and be there for Kelly.
Jo (pedicure on half a nail), me (blue tape) and Mason (paw) compared our feet. Mason’s are the healthiest.
Then I had dinner with Jo, a mother runner from Minnesota whose work brings her to Denver, on Wednesday night. Her plantar plate strain turned into a plantar plate tear that will never go away. We compared symptoms and she sympathized and I cried. She ran way past the place I did, and told me hers got so bad, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to walk her dog or hike with her husband again, let alone run. Ugh.
The fact that my foot was a burning nerve under the table as we talked through it all—how feet are ground zero for runners, how marathons drag on for hours and hours, how my heart can’t always lead my brain and body—pretty much convinced me that I shouldn’t run. Then I went back to the podiatrist on Friday morning, and told him how I was leaning. “I’m in full agreement,” he said, “Running a marathon right now could set you back a year.”
I finally called Kelly on Saturday, and finally came clean. She is disappointed, naturally, but took it like a champ, and we’re formulating a plan so she’s supported through every mile. Right now, the plan is that Adrienne Martini, who was already planning to be in Philly, will take on the first 13.1 with Kelly, and then Jo, whose foot is fully healed, will run the final 13.1 with Kelly. (Jo trained for 13.FUN, but hasn’t gone the full race distance yet.)
Meanwhile, Kelly’s family was already planning to come to the race, and her 11-year-old daughter, Carly, is hopefully going to join me on a bike as we follow—and cheer for and razz on—Kelly on the course.
That said, I have two questions for this mother runner tribe:
1. To keep our bases covered, wondering: are you running the full marathon in Philly, and are you anticipating a 5:15ish finish? Similarly, if you’re running the half and anticipating a 2:35 finish? Either one? Please email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com.
2. Do you live in Philly and happen to have bikes and helmets Carly and I could use? I am almost 6’4” and Carly is 4’5”, but we can be flexible on sizes (especially me).
Ideally, they’d be cruisers or something easy to pilot. I have poked around for bike rentals in Philly, but lining up a bike for early Sunday morning doesn’t look to be super easy. If you have a bike—or a rental recommendation (we’re staying downtown, near the starting line)—please email me at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com.
As for me, I feel mentally better baring my boot. I wish I could say the same for my physical self, but I haven’t felt any real progress, healing-wise, so far. So I’m staying in the boot until at least Thanksgiving when I’ll reevaluate. I’ve got a new pair of orthotics being crafted—they’ve been key for Jo feeling better—and I hope to be able to put in a few miles again by the time the calendar turns to 2015.
Posted on Kelly’s blog yesterday. Sucker punch to the gut from me, but you’ve got the Eye of the Tiger, KP!
I’ve got no time to dwell, though. I’ve got bikes to track down, signs to make, and good vibes to send to Kelly as she heads into taper madness. You’ve still got this, KP—and I’m still with you every step of the way, friend.
Let’s show Kelly we’ve got her back: please give her tips for taper madness at bay—and please chime in if you can help us in Philly. Thanks so much.
#135: Answers to Questions, Plus GORP on the Floor
As promised, GORP on the floor.
Sarah and Dimity dive into questions posted by their Facebook community, serving up answers about how to hire a running or triathlon coach; the necessity of hill repeats (resulting in a new slang term, “The Dimity”); and how to return to running after an injury. The mother runners debate having a time goal for a debut marathon, which—news flash—isn’t simply twice a half-marathon, and whether losing weight is realistic for a faster finish time. And, don’t get up in arms, but the gals talk about arm swing while running.
Find out first what household calamity Dimity has to deal with after recording the show. Check out the ab-solutely challenging core workout Sarah’s coach has had her doing (very poorly, SBS admits). And, finally, here’s the promised link to AMR running retreat next April in Little Rock.
*If you’re digging our podcasts, we’d be super-grateful if you’d take a minute (because we *know* you have so many to spare!) to write a review on iTunes. Many thanks.
**Also, the quickest way to get our podcasts is to subscribe to the show via iTunes. Clicking this link will automatically download the shows to your iTunes account. It doesn’t get any simpler than that!
What Would Another Mother Runner Do: Marathon PR v. BQ?
Erica hitting her impressive even splits in the first half of 2014 Baystate Marathon. (In her AMR Boston Strong Sweaty Beand!)
We haven’t had a recent installment of this series of What Would Another Mother Runner Do scenarios in a while–and we’ve missed it. So when Erica Richards, a 49-year-old mother runner of two in New Hampshire, told us about her recent marathon–and her ruminations since–we knew we had to feature her story.
In 2010, Erica ran her first marathon, the Baystate Marathon. After that, she’d joke she’d be 65 by the time she qualified for Boston, but in 2012, she ran her first sub-2:00 half-marathon followed by a sub-25 minute 5K. According her trusty friend, the McMillan Pace Calculator, she could run a 4:04-4:10 marathon. Given that she turns 50 this month, it got Erica dreaming and scheming how she could qualify for Boston, as she “only” needed an under-4:00 marathon. Her marathon PR was 4:31, but she felt strong and capable this summer, so she signed up for Baystate again.
As she told us, “While the amount of time I needed to take off my PR seemed daunting, I was willing to give it a try.” She’d reached her personal best using the Marathon: Own It Plan from Train Like a Mother, so she decided to use it again. Even in the heat of the summer, she was pleased to hit most of her pace runs. She remained uninjured and was feeling ready heading into the race, her fourth marathon.
Race day came and the weather looked ideal. The only issue was the wind: Erica hates the wind. She started out and ran the first half conservatively, crossing the 13.1 mile mark in 1:58:30. During the first half, she was able to tuck in behind people to get a bit of a break from the headwind. During the second half, not so much: The pack had thinned and it was getting gustier, up to 30 mph. She tells us she, “got pretty beat up both mentally and physically for miles 14 to 18.” She was also having trouble with heart palpitations, which she is working on with her doctor. The heart palpitations came around mile 15. While she and her doc are pretty sure they are some sort of a deficiency, they understandably still freak her out. She had to slow down to make them go away. Calf cramps came around mile 20.
Erica tucking in with some other runners aiming for sub-4:00 marathon finish. (Turns out the gal in green tee missed her BQ, too.)
Still, Erica fought hard and finished in 4:13:53, which was a 17:55 minute PR. “I feel like I did the best I could on that day.” But while she’s been recovering, her brain has been working overtime to decide what to do next. Her debate: Does she try to qualify for 2016 Boston with a spring 2015 marathon, or does she move on and shoot for other goals?
What would you do?
Sarah answers: Given that Erica ran such a strong first half, then soldiered on even in the face of a headwind and heart palpitations, I say she’s gotta make another run at a BQ time. (‘Cuz I want to hang with her before the start of 2016 Boston!!) After working with her doctor to control and eliminate heart palpitations, she should choose a rolling course where there’s little threat of wind and a small-ish race field, then hire a coach to get her to her goal. While the TLAM plans are awesome, there’s nothing like the accountability and personal attention that comes with a coach. Keep dreaming big, Erica: You proved–and learned–a lot at Baystate!
Dimity answers: Oh, this is a tough one because it bridges the gap between pushing yourself to your limit (and maybe over the edge) and running for the simple joy of it. Please note: that’s how I classify my running—and maybe it’s not how Erica or you do. The one time I really chased a goal—a sub-1:50 half-marathon—I ended up really injured and burned out and with a 1:51 PR. I’ve shied away from time goals ever since then, and focused on experiences. So if this were a question like should I try a trail race or a triathlon? I would absolutely say yes. But a 15+ minute improvement in an already speedy marathon time feels pretty intimidating to me, so I’d let it sit for a few more weeks in your heart, Erica, and then see how you feel. Whatever you decide, congratulations on a great run!
Erica and her massive PR finishing time.
What Erica is doing: She registered for the Philadelphia Half-Marathon, then doing a turkey trot with her husband and kids. The Thanksgiving race will be her husband’s first race since having an aortic valve replacement in July. Writes Erica: “There will be a lot of happy tears when we cross that finish line together. Hope it’s sunny so I can wear my shades!”
What happens: Who knows?! She has some options scoped out for 2015, but so far no decision. Erica is looking forward to getting input and insight from the tribe to help her make a decision.
What would you, another mother runner, do?
And if you’ve got a running-related moment you’d like some clarity on, via WWAMRD, feel free to email us at runmother [at] gmail [dot] com. Thanks!
How a Positive Attitude Affects Running
Smiling and strong, Deena Kastor on her way to an 11th-place spot at yesterday’s NYC Marathon.
About 10 minutes into recording our podcast with Olympic medalist Deena Kastor, who is on an amazing streak of race successes, I asked her to what she attributes her continued strength. Deena’s response:
“It sounds a little hokey to say that happiness has helped elevate me the past year, but I am extraordinarily happy with my life and with my running and I think because of that, I have this great momentum going. I feel I’m always an optimistic and upbeat person, but I have really cut out anything in my life—there is nothing on my calendar that doesn’t make me smile,” said Deena, who finished the NYC Marathon strong yesterday in 2:33:18, the 11th overall woman in a top-notch field of international athletes.
Deena continued, “It’s really just loving every nook and cranny of my life right now. And I don’t think there’s a reason to waste energy on anything else but being joyful and happy with your progression. Or sometimes when there are hurdles, knowing this is going to unlock a whole new knowledge and a stronger, wiser self on the other side. Even when there have been challenges, I’ve been able to naturally embrace them over the years to know I am going to grow from them.”
As Deena spoke, tears suddenly and powerfully welled up in my eyes, and a lump swelled in my throat. I knew if I opened my mouth, a sob would burst out and I’d start to bawl. Thankfully, my sage sister from another mother runner, Dimity, chimed in with a succinct summation: “It’s wonderful how your happiness has ricocheted into your running.”
Grins from ear to ear, head to head: Dimity (left), me (center), and our pal Jonna after a summertime trail run in Colorado.
The reason for my tears: The realization my positive outlook really, truly had cemented my recent success at the Victoria Marathon. My coach, Briana Boehmer, had said and written it to me so many times during my training cycle. Here’s an exchange Bri and I had, based on a post I wrote about the first day of my 4+ months of marathon training:
SBS: “When I met my training partner, Molly, this morning for our run, she asked me if I felt nervous (she hadn’t read the post yet). Me: ‘Nope. I’m excited.’ Molly: ‘See! You are always upbeat! I’m nervous.’”
Bri: “I LOVE your optimistic attitude…that will (and clearly has) get you so far, Sarah. When an athlete has it, great things can happen–open mind and positive attitude give a wide-open canvas!”
More than three months later, after an extra-tough final leg in the Ragnar Relay, I told Bri I thought turning a crummy run or race around was one of my strong suits. To which Bri emailed me, “It is not just that one of your greatest strengths is turning a race/workout around but that you are able to find the positive and being smart enough to rationalize that temporary feelings are NOT reality. The tough patches were in fact temporary; reality changes every second…and that you can change your situation via sheer mental wherewithal.”
She continued: “Truly, I think the positive mental aspect is so often neglected and is something we actually can train, just like our legs and lungs. I have a very dumb and obvious anecdote I tell any athlete who is being a ‘negative Nancy’: ‘Nothing GOOD comes from thinking BAD…but only GOOD can come from thinking GOOD…so why set yourself up for BAD?”
Pretty pavement: It’s all about focusing on the good in a workout.
These are just a few of the many times Bri highlighted and commended the positivity I bring to running. (My BRF Molly once dubbed it my, “unrelenting optimism.”) But it took hearing the words come out of the mouth of an Olympic medalist and mother runner I adore and respect greatly to finally drive the message home. It was a powerful epiphany I wanted to share with the AMR community.
My challenge to you, mother runners: Today, say three positive statements out loud about yourself or your running. Or, as Molly summed it up when we discussed this post on yesterday’s run: “Suck it up, and put it out there.” She assures me she’s going to do it. How about you?
Back To Where It Began: 1997 New York City Marathon
Relics from the 1997 NYC Marathon I had no memory of saving. The “Job, Dim” was short for “Please yell, Good job, Dimity!” (My friend, who I nicknamed Spaz, had “Job, Spaz” on her shirt…so that was even harder to decode.) The brilliance continued when I pinned that beauty to my back…because people always cheer for you after you passed them. I’m so glad I saved my medal—no idea I did that—and Sarah would be thrilled I saved the New York Times special section from the day. I’m pretty glad I have it too.
So back during my recent staycation, I found my race report from the 1997 New York City Marathon (the first one ever to hit the Internets back then? Maybe I should’ve trademarked it…). I emailed it to about 15 pals, including Sarah, and thought I’d share the gem with you on Marathon Morning in NYC; this very special race was where I found my running legs—and identity.
*****
Since I know you all were waiting for this: My official 1997 Marathon report.
Two words: wet and AWESOME!
What a rush coming over the Verranzano Bridge. Wind in my face, water below my feet, 29,000 of my closest friends running along side me. Amazing feeling.
One of two old school photo images that came in the mail. Wearing my Flashdance bandana, a Nike shirt I cut at the waist (why? I can’t remember) and my favorite Moving Comfort shorts that I bought at Lady Foot Locker around 1995. Better yet, I’m hanging with what looks like a pack of wrestlers.
Brooklyn was pretty cool too. Tons of people on the streets (the flood hadn’t begun yet) cheering at the top of their lungs; bands, including a cool steel drum band at the Brooklyn Academy of Music; people handing out candy like it was Halloween. (Wish I would’ve had a trick or treat bag.) Slapped about 10 million little kids’ hands, except in Williamsburg, where a lot of Hasidic Jewish people live. They stood there, watching but no cheering. Very quiet.
Queens basically sucks; the rain started coming. Coming across the 59th Street Bridge into Manhattan was another Kodak moment though. It’s a long bridge (1+ mile), and with about a third of it left ot cover, I could start to hear the crowd roar in Manhattan. As I was running up First Avenue, it was thundering and lightning and down-pouring. I was going to change my socks, because my feet added another ten pounds, but it was pointless: they would’ve been sopped again in a few steps.
The Bronx sucked too, except that there was a gospel choir out, and the rain had subsided for a second. As soon as the choir sang the lyrics, “A storm will come down,” the heavens literally opened and it POURED. Ironic. We, the drowned rats, just cheered and kept cruising.
Miles 19+ were mind games. “15 more minutes.” “One more water stop.” “Two more blocks.” Whatever I could do to get through it.
Coming into Central Park, there was about a six-inch deep puddle we had to run through–the gutters weren’t draining fast enough. As I reached Central Park South, I yelled, “God Bless Central Park South!” really loud. Nobody–the crowd or fellow runners–reacted, which was weird. I think they thought I was a freak show. I definitely looked like one. Regardless, I did get through it: 4:23 or 4:32 on the official watch, but I prefer my own timing. (Editor’s note: Chip timing didn’t exist then.) About 10-minute miles, which is ok. I wish I could’ve gone faster, but considering the weather and my pit stop, I can’t complain.
My only finish line pic. Yay for orange arms and a wide wingspan. I look like I’m about to face plant.
Today I feel ok. I kept waking up last night with achy legs, so this morning, I took a bath, four Advil, and a shot of brandy, and feel significantly better, thanks.
And, no, I’m not doing it again next year. I Know Nike, my shoe sponsor, will be disappointed, considering my sonic speed, but they’ll just have to understand.
*****
Glad to know the Central Park South story didn’t just grow with time like a big fish story…and glad to know I still had the same perspective with regard to running—have fun and set big goals, but don’t take yourself too seriously—then as I do now.
Even though 26.2 isn’t my best distance, I’m truly envious of the runners who will cross all the boroughs and bridges of NYC today. Enjoy every step–and God Bless Central Park South!
Do you save race relics like this? Anybody else have old school proofs?