Going (really, really) long with Coach Christine
Adrienne here. At the Little Rock Retreat, Coach Christine Hinton mentioned that she was training to run 101 miles over 48 hours in May. “That sounds awful,” I said, because tact is my strongest trait. I also had to admit that it sounded really interesting.Why would anyone run 101 miles?
Each runner has her own reasons, of course. Coach Christine’s sprung from the recent implosion of her marriage. “I am so trashed emotionally,” she said before the run. “I’m trying hard to rise above the hurt and anger. I’m hoping I’ll have some sort of awakening, like Eat, Pray, Love. Except more Run, Run, Run.”
Coach Christine was kind enough to record her thoughts while she took on 101 this past weekend at Three Days at the Fair. I was honored that she decided to share them with me – and you all.
Car tent + cooler + comfy chair = base camp
Mile 26
For the first 25 miles, I ran really slow for 25 minutes, then walked for 5 minutes. For the last loop, I just walked fast and ate my lunch, which was a grilled cheese and some potatoes with salt.
Just like in the marathon or the half, there are a lot of body types and ability and ages here. Some are just strictly walking. Some are doing a marathon every day as fast as they can for three days. Then we’ve got the beer guy, who’s drinking a beer after every mile.
Mile 31
It’s hot and really sunny. Everyone was saying that people in the past have pushed too hard during the first half and haven’t been able to take advantage of the evening coolness. So I’ve gone now to power walking.
Otherwise, I think I’m OK. As far as the spiritual and emotion awakening I am trying to have, I found myself trying to force myself to figure out what the universe wants me to do. I’ve not found any answers. So I’m not going to force myself to think about it anymore.
Mile 51
It took me a little less than 12 hours to run 50 miles. It’s making me rethink my 24-hour goal for 101. I’m going for 101 no matter how long it takes but I wanted to do it as close to 24-hours as possible.
Everything is hurting — my feet, my calves, my Achilles, my IT bands, my back, my shoulders. My butt crack is chafing. Luckily, I brought some Desitin and I just put some on. I’m definitely developing blisters on my feet. I’ve already popped one.
Just over 24 hours of running makes for a tired Coach, as you’d expect
I had two grilled cheeses for dinner. I’m feeling a little nauseous. I’ve never had that happen before. I’m hoping eating and chilling out a little bit will help. I’m sitting on my zero-gravity chair after using an Action Wipe, which, I tell you what, I’m being honest, they rock. I’m getting filthy. Every lap is disgusting.
There’s a wedding here, which I think is kind of ironic given the reasons I wanted to run this. I can hear it right now in the background — the love songs and the announcing and the “Mr and Mrs.” I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, not that everything has to have meaning.
This past year, everyone has been telling me, “You’re strong. You can handle this.” I don’t always feel strong. Doing these things makes me remember that I am strong. Hopefully, I’ll find some strength for the final 50.
Mile 62
It’s 1:08 a.m. and the wheels are falling off a little bit. Still feeling nauseous and I don’t know why. I’ve tried Pepto; I’ve tried rice and broth, ginger ale, Coke. My legs are also feeling pretty shot and I’ve got blisters on my feet. I’m definitely having some doubts on being able to run 101. Or 100, or 99, 98, or even 80. On top of that, it’s raining right now. I’m going to nap for 30 minutes to see if I can shake this nauseous feeling. And then keep going. The furthest I’ve run is 100K so I’m definitely going to do a couple more laps, if nothing else.
Mile 66ish
It is 3:08 a.m. I am fucking tired. My feet are screwed up. I’ve had two blisters that formed, then popped. I did see a Luna moth. It’s these little things that get exciting when you’re out here.
Mile 70
I’m taking a quick break to take some Advil. You anticipate your legs hurting but weird things hurt now, like up in my shoulders. Now I can see the benefit of having crew on these things. The Icy Hot was really hard to get on my own back. So maybe next time… let me get through this time first.
72 miles
It is 6:32 a.m. I just took a nap for an hour. I’d planned to take a nap at 75 but I was dying I don’t know what the heck’s going on with my feet. I’ve got some kind of rash going on with them. I’m going to lube them up, put on my socks, and head back out.
Like the Beach Boys said …
Mile 95
I’m very tired and my feet are killing me. I’m getting ready to stick them in my cooler, which is full of melted ice. The most frustrating thing right now is that I haven’t been able to run a lap without having to stop for something, and that’s getting frustrating. Other than that, things are good.
The race director has informed me that I am in first place for the 48-hour run and is encouraging me to continue on past 101 miles but I am pretty damn sure I am not. I might maybe do an extra mile or something but I’m sure as hell not going to be running all through tonight.
No big epiphany has occurred. But I am feeling badass, that I am a strong person, and can do things that are difficult. And if I can do it, anybody can do it.
Other observations I’ve made: Ultra runners like tattoos. And at this point, I’ve done all kinds of stuff on the toilet. I’ve eaten on the toilet. I’ve almost fallen asleep on the toilet. Also: any bodily function sounds are totally fine out here as well. I’ve heard farting, saw someone puke. And air hankies, of course. It’s kind of gross.
Mile 101 (and after)
I finished in about 30 hours. I had planned that during my 101st lap, I’d get my phone and take some pictures. By the time I was there, I just wanted to be done.
The race slowly became very ultra-ish in the sense that I ran to, like, a marker on a pole. There were little markers everywhere around the course. Santa Claus was mine. I’d always run the one turn down to Santa Claus, then walk.
Why is Santa making an obscene gesture?
By the time I had one mile left I found this new determination. So I ran. Everyone’s like “wow you look really good!” I’m like “that’s because I’m going to be done!” I didn’t finish in a death march, which was nice.
After the race, I got it in my head that I really wanted to be in my bed. So I got in my car and drove. It was an interesting drive. I had involuntary muscle contractions while I was driving and my feet were getting more swollen because I was sitting with them down. So I stopped a few times and put my feet up. About four and a half hours later I was home. I was glad that I’d made that effort.
No caption needed, really.
I went in to the race looking for some kind of enlightenment about my life, my strength, and, almost, about humanity. I was hoping for some kind of epiphany but I knew the chances were slim that the skies were going to part and God was going to say something to me.
I ended up being enveloped in a really cool community of other ultra runners. Despite me wanting this to be my lone survivor moment, I ended up being welcomed into a wonderfully supportive environment with people I hadn’t ever met before. They were the ones that helped me find my inner strength when I thought I wasn’t going to be able to. That’s really cool. I can go somewhere by myself and be stripped down physically and have a community of people who don’t know me lift me up. It’s making realize that I am strong.
Oddly enough, what I’ve discovered is: I need people. I need the relationships. I need the camaraderie of knowing that there are other souls schlepping along right with me. Our challenges and our distances and our goals are all different but we all need each other to get there.
In an ultra environment, there are hundreds of people in this one-mile loop so it was easy to give and accept support. In life we’re a little bit more dispersed. I’m going to find where the support is and give it more. We don’t do anything alone. I was thinking this was all me – but it wasn’t. It never was. It’s always a group effort.
Five New Podcasts for Your Listening + Running Pleasure
Tune in to hear about Molly’s (Sarah’s BRF) marathon PR—and how she ran it without her GPS.
We’re not Ryan Seacrest (and for that, we thank our lucky stars: to be that chipper and have perfect hair all the time would be exhausting!), but Sarah and I have had the opportunity to be on a couple of podcasts recently. We’re sharing them with you in case you need some new entertainment on an upcoming run.
1. Sarah shared some laughs with Mr. Dad on his Positive Parenting for Military Families Podcast (which also features a book called “Calm the F*&^ Down”). She’s on the episode on March 28, and you can grab it here.
2. I went the opposite direction of Sarah—probably not surprising—in a two-part episode about depression on The Running Lifestyle Podcast. I’ll be honest: It was more emotional than I anticipated, and I haven’t brought myself to listen to the second episode yet (partly because I remember really needing to blow my nose, but not taking the time to do that…annoying and gross.). I’m on episode 68 and 69 on April 16 and 23, and you can grab it here.
3. And then I talked business—no tears, I promise—with a colleague of Sarah’s and mine, Kristen Carpenter Ogden who hosts the Intrepid Entreprenuer Podcast as part of her Living Uber enterprise. I was on the first episode (whee!) on January 18, which you can grab here.
4. Finally, we’ve got some AMR bonus content! Before she broke her ankle, Sarah chatted with Molly about her marathon PR (16 minutes!). Molly talks about her hill strategy during race, how much eating a few GU Energy Chews near Mile 24 made her feel like a new woman, and how having the right attitude makes all the difference in the outcome. If you already subscribe to the AMR podcast, it’ll come up automatically, or you can grab it here.
One #FindYourStrong Marathon: Two Voices
Heather (l.) and Marianne (r.) after one of the few runs they’ve done together.
Dimity here. Excited to introduce two mother runners today: Heather Roszczyk (no, I have no idea how to pronounce that) and Marianne Lloyd, best friends who came to running at different periods in their lives–and will train for a marathon together, despite one living in Ohio and the other in New Jersey.
As they train for the Wineglass Marathon on October 4, they will document their training every Tuesday, starting June 2. Neither of them has taken on 26.2 before, and they come from different running perspectives—one’s more SBS competitive, one’s more it’s-all-good Dimity laid-back—so it’s sure to be an interesting ride.
Both Heather and Marianne are taking part in the AMR #FindYourStrong Marathon Challenge, which is an 18-week training plan full of support, inspiration, community, and some great gear. We’re helping first-time and more experienced runners across marathon finish lines from early October through November 1, and we’d love to help you too. Check out all the details here.
The Basics: Meet the Team
T
Heather: 36 yo resident of Hudson, Ohio; spouse to John, and mom to Henry (3) and Juniper (1). My extremely non-linear career path has currently landed me at Countryside Conservancy, a small nonprofit that supports local food and farming in the Cuyahoga Valley.
Marianne: 37 yo resident of Northern NJ (native of Ohio); spouse to Rob, sister to Rich (pictured above; together we’ve lost 190 pounds), and mom to Joyce (4). I’m a psychology professor at Seton Hall University.
Our Running Background
Heather: I was the music/drama kid, not the athlete kid. During the brief time that I attempted jogging in high school, my best friend could outpace me while smoking a cigarette. (I’m not kidding. This really happened.) So, like many, I was convinced that my body just wasn’t built to run.
Then I accidentally landed a post-college job at Nike headquarters in Portland, OR where—big surprise—everyone runs. I quickly got talked into joining a running group with a cadre of fantastic women, and was hooked. While in Portland, I ran primarily for the social aspect, and for the extra microbrews it afforded me; it wasn’t until we moved back to Ohio that I really fell in love.
Not knowing anyone in our new town, I learned the beauty of the solo run which gradually became a necessary ingredient in my sanity. This year I found the wonderful women of Moms Run This Town Cleveland and now maintain a pleasant balance between solo and group runs. Over the past few months I’ve also started experimenting with speedwork. Always a competitive person—pre-running, I focused on heated games of Taboo—I’ve been amazed and not-so-secretly thrilled to watch the numbers drop. My 23:54 finish in a local 5k snagged me the top of the podium for my age group, a place where that music/drama kid would never have imagined she’d be.
In short: I’m in love with running, and lately rest days are way harder than run days.
Marianne: I started running because I told a marathoner that I couldn’t run and she turned me onto the Couch to 5K program. I completed the plan, came in third to last in my first 5K, ran on and off for a few years, then made it my primary fitness pursuit starting in 2007 . I’ve completed 4 half-marathons but never truly raced anything longer than a 10K.
In fact, my favorite race is to pace somebody slower than me to a PR; I have a fun time without being uncomfortable and they get a PR. Win/Win. I’m plenty invested/driven/competitive in some areas of my life. Namely work and—don’t want to admit it—parenting. Exhibit A: when a few weeks ago I felt serious disappointment at my child’s toy choice for “S” for show and tell at preschool. I thought my suggestion of the triple “S” of “Sparkly Sound Star” was perfect but she went for plain old “Sunglasses.” This should not bother me. Yet it did.
Long ago I declared myself “not good” at running so let myself of the hook for that one. My progress in the Nuun New Year AMR No Limits Challenge made it clear that I have been selling myself short. Still, I am not convinced I want to push this domain too much.
That said, running has helped with some of the not so pleasant parts of my last few years, whether talking professional (rejected manuscripts), spiritual (I’m a practicing but often struggling Catholic), wellness (practicing but often struggling also applies to my Weight Watcher lifetime status), or personal (the death of my mom from breast cancer in 2013).
Our Collective Background
Heather: Marianne and I met in undergrad at Youngstown State University, when we lived together in a dorm suite. Over the last 17 years, she’s evolved from acquaintance/suitemate to one of my very best friends. It’s impossible to explain 17 years of friendship in a single blog post, but women who are lucky enough to have an old friend get it.
Together, we have navigated our way through what we thought was the hard stuff (college/wedding/job) to the actual hard stuff (marriage/children/careers). Our daily emails of the past 10 years record everything from the mundane (I just found an entire 2011 paragraph detailing a brow waxing appointment) to the life-changing (infertility, loss of parent, birth of children). This is a friend that I wouldn’t hesitate to call in a 3am crisis, so it’s a no-brainer to want her on this journey with me.
Marianne: One thing I’ve learned over the years with my relationship with Heather is that the opinion we have of ourselves is so much worse than how we see each other. At my last half I was pacing a friend and described myself as a “pathological optimist” (see race photo above for evidence) yet this seems to stop when it comes to how I view myself. I’m hoping that by writing and training together, we can keep an accurate perspective. Plus, you’ll get to hear about training from two perspectives: Type A (Heather) and Type B (Marianne).
The weirdest thing, considering that we’re BRFs in nearly every respect, is that in total, we’ve logged only about 20 miles running together; we’ve lived anywhere from 450 to 3000 miles apart. We’ve been on our own paths in the sport, not unlike the way our marriages (Heather was first), births (that’s fodder for a post of its own), and careers (Marianne on a straight shot, Heather on a winding road ) have had different shapes and timelines. It feels exciting that we are going to take on such a big goal together.
Why a marathon?
Marianne: Three reasons:
1. Upon finishing the Northern Ohio Half Marathon in October 2014 I felt like I still had more miles in my legs. This had not happened in my prior 2 half-marathons and made me think marathon was a great answer to “what now?”.
2. I spectated the NYC marathon a month later and watching all the runners made me want to be on the other side of the barriers.
3. I was on a girls weekend with Heather and our other email pal Gina and put this notion out there as a goal over happy hour. Although I tried to backpedal later, I know that for me wine truth=real truth.
I specifically picked Wineglass because did not want the kind of wait you get with a big race here one must be up hours before the start (or a full day as Bethany pointed out on her Boston marathon recap AMR podcast). The geography also holds meaning for me. I went to grad school in Binghamton, I still have a 607 cell number, I have driven Bath to Corning many, many times while heading home to see family, it is where I learned to run, and it was the site of my first 5 and 10k races. As noted above, I also like wine.
Heather: A marathon had long been in the back of my mind, despite swearing that I didn’t want to run a full after crossing the finish line of my first/last half at the Towpath Half Marathon in 2012. (Which doesn’t even count, I realize: it’s like asking the mother of a newborn if she’s ready for another.) So when Marianne forwarded her Wineglass registration confirmation with a jaunty, “Hope you like hearing about running!” it got my wheels turning. I’d been feeling like my life could use a little shake-up, so I lasted less than a week before I signed up.
Honestly, it was the least-thought-out decision ever. I didn’t consult a training plan or my summer schedule.
I just checked that I had the date of the race open and signed up.
Starting June 2, we’ll be here every week with tales of our training progress. Plus, we hope some of you will also be part of the #FindYourStrong Marathon Challenge; we’d love to virtually train with you too!
#161: Grandmother Runner Katherine Beiers, the Oldest Finisher of 2015 Boston Marathon
Yes, Sarah is in the walker, not the 82-year-old grandmother.
A special in-studio guest, Katherine Beiers chats with Dimity and Sarah: At age 82, Katherine is the oldest finisher at 2015 Boston Marathon, running 5:53 in wicked-bad weather conditions. Perhaps more amazingly, this mother of three and grandmother of 10 didn’t start running until age 48 yet has since run nearly 50 races 26.2 miles or longer. Katherine tells why she started running—and what keeps her putting in the miles (a typical week for her is 30 or more miles!). Find out why she makes few concessions to age, except for occasionally running in gloves—and knee pads! This octogenarian’s advice to aspiring marathons might just make its way onto a tee shirt in our store one of these days.
*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.
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In Her Shoes: Dodging Kangaroos in the Dark
The beautiful—and scary—Australian landscape that leads to the gate.
The latest edition of In Her Shoes—tales that got left on the cutting room floor while writing Tales From Another Mother Runner—takes us Down Under.
While I was training for a half-marathon, I took my three young children to our tiny, humble hut in the forest about two hours from Melbourne, Australia. The race was a significant run for me as I had pretty much stopped all forms of exercise after my first child was born, and didn’t pick anything up again until my third was fifteen months old.
I couldn’t leave my young kids awake and alone in the hut while I got my 50-minute training run in; they would have tried to follow me. So I put them to bed first and made sure they were sound asleep.
The night was raining and foggy, so there wasn’t any moon. It was pitch black. I decided to just run to our front gate—almost two kilometers round-trip—however many times until 50 minutes was up. I had a torch in each hand, and set off with that wonderful feeling of freedom and an “I can do this run, even though I am out in the wilderness,” attitude.
Airlie and her daughter after a 4K…in daylight.
I made it to the gate once. I could hear the kangaroos bounding around me—no doubt, to get away from this strangely illuminated creature huffing and panting—but I could never catch one in the torchlight. I worried one might bound into me and injure me.
Without intending to, I started barking. I’m not too sure why. Perhaps it was a primitive ploy to trick the ‘roos into thinking I was a dingo? I gave up my grand plans of two-kilometer laps and downsized to laps of the hut, but even that seemed to be venturing too far out into the darkness. In my imagination, it was “Blair Witch” territory out there, and my own puffing seemed like an audible beacon to any wildlife in the dark!
In the end, I completed my run with tiny circles around the campfire, where my two dogs, who should’ve been accompanying me, were snoozing. I probably ran about 600 laps and I dealt with the dizziness factor by running four times clockwise, four times counterclockwise in a sort of figure-8 pattern at the changeover. That helped keep my brain occupied, too. I was wide eyed and adrenaline fueled the whole time.
I should have had a s’more when I finished, but I went for a hot cup of tea and some chocolate instead.
—Airlie (Calls emergency pitstops an “attack of the 1812’s” after Tchaikovsky’s explosive 1812 Overture.)
Inquiring minds want to know: Have you ever had an encounter (or near encounter) with a wild animal while on a run?
Tales From Another Mother Runner Thursday: Alisa Bonsignore
Our final (boo!) Tales From Another Mother Runner Thursday profiles Alisa Bonsignore, who is a mother of an eight-year-old in San Francisco. We’re really bummed to see this series come to a close—wishing we had 50 authors in the book!—but we know there’s always another story in the next mile.
One last favor ask: If you have purchased and found the time to read Tales From Another Mother Runner, we’d love, love it if you could take a minute a put up an honest review on Amazon, which, for reasons we don’t totally understand, is huge in spreading the TAMR word and helping women find the book. Thanks in advance!
Ok, back to Alisa:
My running history: I never willingly ran a single step until after my son was born. I was 33, had no running friends and generally no clue what I was doing, but after delivering a baby, suddenly things that I’d once deemed painful or impossible seemed like no big deal in comparison.
My writing history: I started writing as a stringer for the local paper in college, 20+ years ago. I went in to their office to beg them for an internship. They later told me that they accepted my meeting just to mock the clueless college student, but they ended up liking me and offering me a paid job, which was something absurd like $0.25 per inch of copy. I went full-time freelance shortly after my son was born, and I work mostly for large healthcare and tech companies translating really technical or clinical jargon into plain English that real people can understand. I also write a blog, which gives me an outlet for storytelling that I don’t get from my day job. TAMR is my first book.
Moral of my essay “Expectations are Everything”: For my Type-A personality, I’ve come to learn that I have a much better running experience when I don’t put tons of pressure on myself because there are so many elements that are out of my control. Case in point: I joined the AMR 10k program to give myself the motivation to keep moving through the winter. I joined up with another former Team in Training runner who was training for a local half. Instead of cutting my runs short at my 10k training distances, I ended up sticking with her for her longer runs, and discovering a BRF in the process. I registered for her half marathon two weeks before race day, and crushed my PR.
Update on another go at Nike Women’s and Philly, both notable races in my essay: Last year, I trained with the TNT Nike group, but chose to race in Nürnberg, Germany while on a business trip, instead; why run the same old race when you can have the experience of a foreign race? I went to Nike as a spectator to cheer on my teammates, and then two weeks later ran the US Half in SF — a much smaller and more scenic race that crosses the Golden Gate Bridge. I’m still and perpetually debating Philly. I’m actually always in Philly that weekend, but as I’m traveling with my son there are some child care logistics to work out before I can commit.
Recent memorable run: The Livermore Half where I crushed my PR. I don’t check my time while I’m running, and I didn’t feel like I was going particularly fast on the hilly course. In fact, I was so far ahead of expectations that when I heard someone mention the time at the 10-mile marker, I was convinced that we’d actually started the race at 7:30 and not 8:00. There’s a picture of me approaching the finish line where I spotted the race clock and burst out laughing because it was absurdly far ahead of what I expected.
Recent horrible run: Two weeks after the half marathon PR, my BRF and I ran the school’s charity 15K. There was nothing particularly challenging about the course, but both of us struggled through on legs of lead, gasping and wheezing like we’d never run a single step before. (What’s that about??)
Next up on my running calendar: We’re doing our best to maintain our routine of long Saturday runs, in spite of the fact that my schedule as a little league coach has put a serious crimp in many a Saturday morning. The next thing on the calendar is the annual 5K with my son on 4th of July, but I don’t have anything bigger scheduled until fall. I’m already registered for the Golden Gate Half (formerly US Half) in November, and the Livermore Half again next spring. Nothing like a good discount code to make me commit early!