I am officially a humbled runner, and it took me 4 marathons to get here.
Ever since I began training for my first marathon in the summer of 2015, advice such as "respect the distance" or "the race doesn't start until mile 20" was handed out like candy at a parade, and fear of "hitting the wall" - the point in which you are mentally done and physically exhausted - was instilled. Still, training went on and race day finally arrived. In their day, my parents had, to me, untouchable marathon finishing times, so I set my own goals on qualifying for Boston instead of a little family competition. I needed a 3:35. I crushed it with 3:25, and finished with energy to spare. I couldn't help but think that this marathon stuff wasn't so bad. The wall never hit, mile 20 came and went without notice, and the distance was nothing more than my latest PR.
A few weeks later, I ran a trail marathon, and felt so great at the finish that I was talked into signing up for the 50-mile distance the following year. And, for the hell of it, the next fall I repeated my first marathon in an attempt to beat my time, which I did by another 10 minutes, putting me at a 3:15 finish and once again getting me into Boston for the following year. That 50 mile trail race was an entirely different animal, but up until that starting line for Boston on Patriot's Day, I had never experienced a "tough" marathon, and was able to get a humbling smack down out on that famous course.
The first miserable thing about the Boston Marathon is the training season. I had been spoiled with my previous fall marathons and summer training schedule, and now had to switch to winter training where the weather was watched like a hawk for snow, ice, and temperatures that dipped below 20 degrees - the point in which my training partners and I would gladly opt for the treadmill instead. The weather-watching only increased as race day arrived, where we learned to our horror that it would be a sweaty 75 degrees. After training in the 20's-30's for months, I knew this would be my first challenge. The second, better known challenge, were the hills that made their lovely appearance after mile 17 when you are already exhausted from miles of pavement pounding. I had also managed to rupture a bursa in my knee during training, so that was of concern too, but not nearly as intimidating as the course itself. Pain I could run through, heat and hills, I would learn, were another story.
The race took off with a very casual starting line; one minute you are walking up to your corral, the next you are running and the race begins. My nerves were calmed by pure excitement, and my eyes were fixed on the overwhelming amount of runners on that street in Hopkinton. I looked forward to my "check-point-goals" of shared stories with my running gals at mile 10, FaceTiming my daughters and mom at mile 15, keeping an eye out for my dad at mile 20, and crossing that finish line where my husband, brother, sister-in-law and friends were waiting.
From mile 1, the heat got to me. My breathing was heavy, my body felt exhausted, and despite my efforts to talk myself out of any negative mindset with the use of motivating self-talk ("you're part of THE Boston Marathon! Woo!") - my anxiety was building with each exhausting mile knowing that a rough series of hills lay ahead. Still, my two training partners and I trotted along, collecting miles as we went. The first 15, though tiresome, went the fastest. Stories at mile 10 never happened, despite the fact that my friends and I avoided each other like the plague in order to have fresh, detailed stories to occupy the time - we were simply too tired and out of breath to speak. I was thrilled to see the 15 mile marker where I excitedly called my tiny cheerleaders and mom before venturing off into the remaining 11 miles.
At mile 16, one of my friends fell behind. As we hit mile 17 and turned a sharp corner, my other friend warns me "this is the first hill" - I'm sorry, you mean that thing we just ran up and over wasn't one of these "hills" you speak of? Shit. Starting to tackle the climb, I kept my head down and could focus on nothing but the burning sensation in my quads. As my friend got a little further ahead, she kept checking back on me where the words "still here!" managed to escape me. One hill down, two to go. And still nearly 9 miles to the finish. Panic started to sink in a bit as the combination of hills and heat started to tear me apart.
On the 2nd hill, I fell behind. I was crushed as I watched the distance between my friend and I lengthen, but knew at this point it was not my race. Finishing, not time, was all that mattered now. I hit every water station along the way to refill the bottle attached to my fuel belt, and was sure to drench myself with every spraying hydrant or hose out there. As mile 20 approached, I knew that seeing my dad's familiar face would be just what I needed. 20 years ago, he ran his final Boston Marathon, and he was now spectating where his parents used to watch him. I saw his waving arms and ran right over to him to hold his hand. I wanted so badly to regress to a baby and just curl up crying in his arms. Instead, the only thing I could say was "it's hot out here, dad!" - and pushed myself to continue onto Heartbreak Hill.
Admittedly, this third and final hill was the easiest of them all. Maybe it was simply knowing that the dreaded series of hills was over, but even so, seeing those "you made it to the top of Heartbreak Hill" signs were the most amazing site. Piece of cake from here on out, I thought to myself. The hills were over, and I just had 4 miles to go. I could run 4 miles any day. I got this.
Nope. Not the way that went at all.
The hills, though nothing compared to the recent few, still rolled along. Every mile mark seemed to take (Sandlot reference) FOR-EV-ER. I had never wanted to stop so badly during a race. There were moments of panic where I thought I may not be able to finish. The only thing that was still able to motivate me was the $300 I spent on " yay go me I ran Boston!" attire at the expo - all in which would be pointless if I let this course take me down. And then, at mile 24, my legs decided they were done.
Still moving but what felt like barely, I tackled the last 2 miles with legs that felt like lead. I tried to go faster to reach that finish line sooner, but they wouldn't give. I yelled at them ("come ON!!"), I punched them, I willed them - nothing. I have never experienced a longer 2 miles. This was it, this was the wall. I officially hit the wall, and it sucked beyond all belief. I wanted to stop. I wanted to cry. I wanted a goddamn beer. But, I also really really wanted to rock my finisher's jacket and 15 other blue and yellow swag that burned a hole in my wallet. Then I realized that all of those things were possible - after I cross that finish line.
Reaching the 26 mile marker, I thought I was golden. That was, until you turn down that finishing stretch and realize that the final .2 miles to the finish still seemed like forever. I knew my friends and family were there waiting, but I didn't have the energy to pick them out of the wild crowd. I still wanted to stop. I actually considered it. Crawling to the finish sounded better than another moment of running. Slowly but surely, the yellow triangle hung high over the finish crept closer and closer until, finally, with my hands in the air, I stepped over that blue line, where my legs immediately decided they were all sorts of pissed off and collapsed.
After spending some time in the medical tent, I finally met up with my husband who showered me in hugs and congratulations, and I drank the best tasting, most refreshing, well deserved beer (or two) I've ever experienced. And that's exactly what this entire thing was - an experience. Maybe I was miserable for 26 miles, but I also accomplished something huge that day. And, the fact that I've always given credit to my natural running ability was knocked down a few notches; marathon-running parents or not, easy previous races or not, that was without a doubt one of the hardest things I've done. I now know what "respect the distance" truly means, what it means to not experience the hardships of the race until mile 20, and I definitely know what it feels like to hit the wall. The days that followed were filled with soreness and nausea, but I was glad to have those post-race aches while snuggled up in my overpriced 2017 Boston Marathon sweatshirt, because I did it.
Monday, May 1, 2017
Friday, January 6, 2017
Sugar Detox, My Story
Hi, my name is Lauren and I am a sugar addict. (Hiiiii Laurennnnnn)
From an early age, I knew I had a rather large and in charge sweet tooth. It used to be tamed by the candy bars my grandfather bought for my every week, because as a child of marathon running parents who forced healthy eating upon me, I was thought to be deprived of these sugary, carb and calorie loaded bars of deliciousness. Every Wednesday after school, he'd pick me up from the bus stop and immediately drive me to the corner store where I was allowed to pick out two king sized candy bars - and eat them both right away. I remember the cookies and cream Hershey's bar being a solid staple in that decision making. In high school, I would buy a candy bar daily from the sports teams selling them, and I often passed on the tuna sandwich my dad packed me for lunch and opted for two, insanely huge, soft chocolate chip cookies from the cafeteria. I was lucky to have inherited my dad's speedy metabolism, but still remember the feeling of the sugar highs and lows, and the comment from one classmate about how I looked good with the few extra pounds I recently put on; a line no teenager, even as rail thin as I was, liked to hear.
Those teenage years of craving sweets but not wanting to gain weight were the start of poor habits that lasted well into my twenties. I'd skip meals to accommodate the "gotta have it" size cake batter ice cream with mashed Heath Bar from Cold Stone Creamery. As an adult, I'd calorie count in order to have a dinner out with a couple glasses of wine, but would end up with that sugar craving when the buzz kicked in and end up eating well over my allotted number anyway. I would over exercise the next day to make up for it, mentally yelling at myself for having no control, thinking about how many miles I'd have to accomplish in comparison the calories consumed. I'd restrict my eating to further punish myself. Food, alcohol and exercise became so apparent to me that I could think back to any gathering or event, and would first remember my choices. Did I over drink, did I over eat, did I run twenty mikes the next day...I knew and remembered all these things before remembering conversations, laughter, or other important events from that day. I was uncomfortable in my decision making and was so guilt ridden beacause of it. It was a miserable cycle, but I had the power to change it. I first had to identify my weaknesses, and then crush them. Case point: sugar.
Everything triggered my sweet tooth. The end of a meal meant a little sweet treat to top it off. The end of a busy work day meant a well deserved glass (or two) of wine. The aroma of a cake scented Yankee Candle had me searching Pinterest for microwave mug cake recipes. Before bed it was always a toss up between hot cocoa or tea with extra honey. Sugar surrounded me, and it only intensified the more I catered to it. I used to ignore the amount of sugar I gobbled up, because I had eliminated white sugar from my diet years ago, and used coconut palm sugar, pure maple syrup, raw honey, or fruits to sweeten things. But recently I noticed a sincere crave for more. Where I used to be satisfied with a teaspoon of coconut sugar in my coffee, I suddenly needed 2 tablespoons to tame the tooth. I needed a little dessert after both lunch and dinner, instead of every now and then as a treat. And, I'm sure the amount of sugar in wine contributed to my enjoyment and ease of having more than one hefty glass.
The New Year was an easy time for me to hit my re-set button; especially after celebrating Christmas on 5 different occasions. The amount of wine and Honey Jack sipped lead to a taste test of any and all desserts I could find. I knew these things were treats, and that it had little to do with weight gain based on the amount I exercise and eat clean the other 98% of the time - but I simply felt gross. I knew as part of my resolution that I wanted to do something about it, but I also knew that I didn't want to be so drastic in my decision such as "quit sugar" or "quit drinking" because I enjoy these things, especially when sharing a night off with my husband or gathering with family and friends. It was important for me to conquer this weakness in a sense of gaining control, not cutting it out and depriving myself completely. Plus, I just wanted to do something good for my body in the form of a detox, and so the 21 day sugar free diet came into play.
So far, it's been the perfect challenge. Not only is it forcing me to take a much needed break from sugar and alcohol, but it's also forcing me to think outside the food box - a place I often landed myself when the kids went to bed. I'd be tunnel visioned to their bedtime in order to enjoy a little dessert, maybe a glass of wine, a mug of hot cocoa or some form of sweet snack. It was what I considered my daily "me/mommy" time, and I loved this time. Seeing these words written down makes it seem pretty lame, but I nearly didn't know what to do with myself on those first few nights without having sugary foods to look forward to. I'd depressingly look at my dinner and think to myself "well, this is it". It has, however, effected my parenting in a positive way, because I no longer feel like rushing my kids off to bed in order to gain the alone time I craved - because I have nothing to look forward to! So for the last 5 days, bedtime has been much more gradual and relaxed.
This challenge is also a much needed boost in my ability to say no. Some nights, I may not even feel like having that glass of wine or those sips of whiskey, but I do simply because. Because it's our night off together. Because we are socializing. Because a friend stopped by unexpectedly. Because it's expected of me. So, I started my challenge a day early with a sober New Year's Eve - something I've only done twice before, and because I was pregnant. It was somewhat easy, since I was out with the girls and never have anything to drink if I'll be driving them, but the ease of it came with my early decision on the matter. I didn't give myself the option. I said "no alcohol tonight" and that was that. I needed to show myself that time with friends could be just as fun with a tea in hand as it was with a glass of red. Plus, with lots of yummy treats surrounding me, it was a good reminder that because I wasn't sitting in a cozy buzz, I wouldn't make sugar indulgences that were out of my norm.
Tell you what though - this is not a feel good challenge. With limited food options (including fruit), I have been rocking a serious bloat-belly from all the extra veggies I'm forced to go to when hunger strikes. Because I had to further eliminate foods - and already ate so strictly - I was forced to reintroduce foods into my diet that were allowed within the 21 day sugar detox, but that I didn't normally eat, like full fat dairy and a variety of nuts. I've rocked a slight headache everyday since the challenge started, and my energy levels are shot. My morning coffee, which used to be one of my favorite times of the day, is now less appealing without the sweet addition of coconut palm sugar. And, most annoying of all, I always feel hungry. I am eating plenty as far as portions and calories with all my protein and good-fat based meals, but because I'm never getting that "end" feeling of capping off with a treat, my body is always searching for what it's missing.
So, it's tough. It's going to continue to be tough. But I'm glad I'm doing it. I have girlfriends who jumped on this crazy train with me who I can text and complain to daily - and also who can hold me accountable. I know that I am doing something incredible for my body, and that when these 21 days are over, I will feel accomplished. I am hoping to gain a better grasp on my sweet tooth, say no when I'm not in the mood to drink, and hopefully eat and drink as I please with less disordered eating thoughts provoked. It helps to know that it's only 3 weeks, and nothing permanent. It also helps to know that I could be running 50 miles, and nothing was worse than that ;-)
Day 6 - 15 to go.
From an early age, I knew I had a rather large and in charge sweet tooth. It used to be tamed by the candy bars my grandfather bought for my every week, because as a child of marathon running parents who forced healthy eating upon me, I was thought to be deprived of these sugary, carb and calorie loaded bars of deliciousness. Every Wednesday after school, he'd pick me up from the bus stop and immediately drive me to the corner store where I was allowed to pick out two king sized candy bars - and eat them both right away. I remember the cookies and cream Hershey's bar being a solid staple in that decision making. In high school, I would buy a candy bar daily from the sports teams selling them, and I often passed on the tuna sandwich my dad packed me for lunch and opted for two, insanely huge, soft chocolate chip cookies from the cafeteria. I was lucky to have inherited my dad's speedy metabolism, but still remember the feeling of the sugar highs and lows, and the comment from one classmate about how I looked good with the few extra pounds I recently put on; a line no teenager, even as rail thin as I was, liked to hear.
Those teenage years of craving sweets but not wanting to gain weight were the start of poor habits that lasted well into my twenties. I'd skip meals to accommodate the "gotta have it" size cake batter ice cream with mashed Heath Bar from Cold Stone Creamery. As an adult, I'd calorie count in order to have a dinner out with a couple glasses of wine, but would end up with that sugar craving when the buzz kicked in and end up eating well over my allotted number anyway. I would over exercise the next day to make up for it, mentally yelling at myself for having no control, thinking about how many miles I'd have to accomplish in comparison the calories consumed. I'd restrict my eating to further punish myself. Food, alcohol and exercise became so apparent to me that I could think back to any gathering or event, and would first remember my choices. Did I over drink, did I over eat, did I run twenty mikes the next day...I knew and remembered all these things before remembering conversations, laughter, or other important events from that day. I was uncomfortable in my decision making and was so guilt ridden beacause of it. It was a miserable cycle, but I had the power to change it. I first had to identify my weaknesses, and then crush them. Case point: sugar.
Everything triggered my sweet tooth. The end of a meal meant a little sweet treat to top it off. The end of a busy work day meant a well deserved glass (or two) of wine. The aroma of a cake scented Yankee Candle had me searching Pinterest for microwave mug cake recipes. Before bed it was always a toss up between hot cocoa or tea with extra honey. Sugar surrounded me, and it only intensified the more I catered to it. I used to ignore the amount of sugar I gobbled up, because I had eliminated white sugar from my diet years ago, and used coconut palm sugar, pure maple syrup, raw honey, or fruits to sweeten things. But recently I noticed a sincere crave for more. Where I used to be satisfied with a teaspoon of coconut sugar in my coffee, I suddenly needed 2 tablespoons to tame the tooth. I needed a little dessert after both lunch and dinner, instead of every now and then as a treat. And, I'm sure the amount of sugar in wine contributed to my enjoyment and ease of having more than one hefty glass.
The New Year was an easy time for me to hit my re-set button; especially after celebrating Christmas on 5 different occasions. The amount of wine and Honey Jack sipped lead to a taste test of any and all desserts I could find. I knew these things were treats, and that it had little to do with weight gain based on the amount I exercise and eat clean the other 98% of the time - but I simply felt gross. I knew as part of my resolution that I wanted to do something about it, but I also knew that I didn't want to be so drastic in my decision such as "quit sugar" or "quit drinking" because I enjoy these things, especially when sharing a night off with my husband or gathering with family and friends. It was important for me to conquer this weakness in a sense of gaining control, not cutting it out and depriving myself completely. Plus, I just wanted to do something good for my body in the form of a detox, and so the 21 day sugar free diet came into play.
So far, it's been the perfect challenge. Not only is it forcing me to take a much needed break from sugar and alcohol, but it's also forcing me to think outside the food box - a place I often landed myself when the kids went to bed. I'd be tunnel visioned to their bedtime in order to enjoy a little dessert, maybe a glass of wine, a mug of hot cocoa or some form of sweet snack. It was what I considered my daily "me/mommy" time, and I loved this time. Seeing these words written down makes it seem pretty lame, but I nearly didn't know what to do with myself on those first few nights without having sugary foods to look forward to. I'd depressingly look at my dinner and think to myself "well, this is it". It has, however, effected my parenting in a positive way, because I no longer feel like rushing my kids off to bed in order to gain the alone time I craved - because I have nothing to look forward to! So for the last 5 days, bedtime has been much more gradual and relaxed.
This challenge is also a much needed boost in my ability to say no. Some nights, I may not even feel like having that glass of wine or those sips of whiskey, but I do simply because. Because it's our night off together. Because we are socializing. Because a friend stopped by unexpectedly. Because it's expected of me. So, I started my challenge a day early with a sober New Year's Eve - something I've only done twice before, and because I was pregnant. It was somewhat easy, since I was out with the girls and never have anything to drink if I'll be driving them, but the ease of it came with my early decision on the matter. I didn't give myself the option. I said "no alcohol tonight" and that was that. I needed to show myself that time with friends could be just as fun with a tea in hand as it was with a glass of red. Plus, with lots of yummy treats surrounding me, it was a good reminder that because I wasn't sitting in a cozy buzz, I wouldn't make sugar indulgences that were out of my norm.
Tell you what though - this is not a feel good challenge. With limited food options (including fruit), I have been rocking a serious bloat-belly from all the extra veggies I'm forced to go to when hunger strikes. Because I had to further eliminate foods - and already ate so strictly - I was forced to reintroduce foods into my diet that were allowed within the 21 day sugar detox, but that I didn't normally eat, like full fat dairy and a variety of nuts. I've rocked a slight headache everyday since the challenge started, and my energy levels are shot. My morning coffee, which used to be one of my favorite times of the day, is now less appealing without the sweet addition of coconut palm sugar. And, most annoying of all, I always feel hungry. I am eating plenty as far as portions and calories with all my protein and good-fat based meals, but because I'm never getting that "end" feeling of capping off with a treat, my body is always searching for what it's missing.
So, it's tough. It's going to continue to be tough. But I'm glad I'm doing it. I have girlfriends who jumped on this crazy train with me who I can text and complain to daily - and also who can hold me accountable. I know that I am doing something incredible for my body, and that when these 21 days are over, I will feel accomplished. I am hoping to gain a better grasp on my sweet tooth, say no when I'm not in the mood to drink, and hopefully eat and drink as I please with less disordered eating thoughts provoked. It helps to know that it's only 3 weeks, and nothing permanent. It also helps to know that I could be running 50 miles, and nothing was worse than that ;-)
Day 6 - 15 to go.
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