You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘pain’ tag.

Last year, I paced E in the JFK50 – his first 50 miler. We ran together from Weverton (mile 15.5) to Taylor’s Landing (mile 38.4) along the C & O canal towpath. It was inspiring to run part of this historic ultra marathon and watch E finish strong, especially after witnessing some very low points on the canal.

At the finish, my in-laws asked me if I ever wanted to run an ultra. My response was, “NO WAY!” I love to run long, but running 50 miles was incomprehensible to me at the time. And of course here I am, one year and three ultra finishes later…

The JFK50 was a very last minute addition to our Fall race calendar. E and I had just run the UTHC 65k when we met several legendary endurance athletes (NESS at Princeton) who inspired us to search for another ultra challenge. Sure enough, registration was still open for the JFK50. E wanted to give the course another try and I felt (falsely) confident after having run for nearly 11 hours in Quebec. Also, the NYC marathon would be a great training race. E mentioned that we were already kind of trained for it, so why not? (WHY NOT RUN A 50 MILE RACE?!) “Sure,” I said, “why not?” And maybe now you can see how I started running ultras!

We got to the Homewood Suites in Hagerstown late-afternoon to pick up our bib numbers and prep our gear. Strangely, I wasn’t nervous – perhaps because I had already convinced myself that I probably wouldn’t get very far. This is NOT the usual attitude I have in a race, but I had to manage my expectations.

I felt great during the NYC marathon but got some bad right foot pain out of nowhere while walking in flip flops two days later. It turned out to be a cuboid strain and although the pain resolved just before the race, I was cautioned not to run through the pain if it returned, as I could risk a stress fracture. Obviously it’s inevitable to feel some pain with races of this distance, so I would have to differentiate between “bad” pain and more general foot pain. I remained optimistic and grateful to be starting, and told myself that I would run as far as I safely could with E, whether it was 4 miles, 24 miles, or longer. Sounds like a simple plan, right? Run smart, and and if/when the “bad” pain comes, don’t risk injury for the sake of finishing. Got it.

Clearly I forgot that I am a very stubborn person who has never DNF’d and hates quitting. And that the mind and body play tricks on you and hinder your judgment when you have been running for hours and hours. But more on that later…

Gear-wise, I decided not to carry my bladder, which ended up being the BEST decision. This race is incredibly well supported, with 14 fully-stocked aid stations every 2-6 miles! Two 9oz bottles proved more than adequate. It felt great not to have all the weight on my back, and also gave me tons of room in my UD vest to store gels, food, extra layers, and other items. I wore my breathable 2XU compression tights, my favorite Patagonia tank, a very thin North Face long sleeve shirt, my Brooks ultra light shell, Injini socks, Lulu hat, merino wool gloves, and my Brooks Cascadia trail shoes.


THE START (Miles 0-2.5)

We missed the pre-race talk due to trouble parking (it gets REALLY crowded) but had plenty of time to hit the restrooms and warm up in the Boonsboro Educational Complex. Around 6:45am, we headed back out into the cold and towards the start line in downtown Boonsboro. I had the strongest sense of deja-vu – but this time, I had my own hydration vest and would not be going back to the hotel for a nap! We timed it perfectly, approaching the start just as the gun went off. We were running before I even had a chance to realize the race had started! The 50 mile race. MY FIRST 50 MILE RACE. Nope, still not registering, still fully in denial.

I felt surprisingly awesome. It was a gorgeous Fall day. The air was crisp but our bodies quickly warmed up as we climbed the first of many hills. Everyone around us was walking, but we kept running at an easy effort level given there were much steeper hills to come that would demand walking. I soaked up the atmosphere, that feeling of embarking on a great adventure with hundreds of other race participants (quite a lot for an ultra). The AT and canal would soon spread us all out and turn chunks of our race into quieter, more solo endeavors.


THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL (Miles 2.5-15.5, paved road miles 3.5-5.5)

I wasn’t sure what to expect on the AT and was slightly nervous about how my foot would handle it. E and I did a fair amount of training on the AT in NY and VT over the summer, on trails that were very technical. E told me it wasn’t quite as challenging, though last year fallen leaves weren’t covering the trails, which included many long, tricky sections of jagged rocks. The leaves camouflaged the rocks while also making them slippery. Bad news for my foot if I wasn’t careful!

We were barely on the trail when we were spit back out onto pavement. THIS was the hill E mentioned earlier – long and steep. We power walked along, joking and chatting with each other and our fellow runners. That’s one of my favorite parts about trail running – you always get to interact with interesting people. We overheard pieces of a story that a man (in the army or navy?) was telling his friend – something about traveling to various places around the world in search of a resupply but never getting one, and being without any real food except for rice and a few canned goods for 70-something days. Well, then running 50 miles should be a walk in the park, right?! I reminded him of this when we ran into each other later in the race and he wasn’t feeling too great!

We soon rejoined the AT, and the leaves and rocks demanded all of my attention. I still felt good, but feared that with any next step the foot pain would return. Sure enough, my foot rolled on a rock around mile 5 and I felt the first pang of pain. Shit. I had more than 10 miles to go on this terrain! It felt fine as long as I landed flat, but every time it rolled – pain. Not terrible, but not good. With concentration, I was able to minimize the number of times I rolled my foot, but the terrain made it impossible to avoid. E was far ahead of me at this point, as I had slowed down to focus on my footing. Thankfully trail runners are friendly, and I met a lovely woman from South Dakota who helped the miles go by.

I feared the 1,000ft descent to Weverton that E had warned me about, but it wasn’t that bad. A few sharp turns, but otherwise quite runnable as long as you don’t get stuck behind a conga line of walkers (you can’t easily pass on this section). I was so happy when I reunited with E at Weverton – I managed to survive the AT relatively unscathed! Plus, a long flat section awaited us – much better for my foot – and we had plenty of wiggle room with the time cut offs. I made this handy wrist band to make sure we didn’t get pulled – highly recommend!


THE CANAL (miles 15.5 – 41.8)

Hitting the canal together was a joyous moment. My foot felt okay, the sun was shining, the canal was peaceful, and I was running on a familiar trail with my favorite person. I knew I couldn’t get my hopes up, but I was still in the game and I would continue running as long as my foot didn’t hurt with each step. Or so I told myself. We were running around 11-11:30min miles, nice and relaxed and feeling strong.


Cut to 10 miles later….get me off this canal! It was beautiful but felt endless. Also, all the foot problems really started at this point. My  right foot started to hurt with each step at around 26M. We were practically wading through the leaves on certain parts of the trail and I had to stop several times to get the leaves and rocks out of my shoes. I love Injinji socks but mine were too low cut. In an effort to keep stuff out, I tied my left shoe laces tighter and miles later, the top of my left foot started to hurt too. I knew I couldn’t run another 20 miles feeling like this and contemplated dropping at the next aid station at mile 30.


But then our friends unexpectedly showed up at mile 30! Look at those smiles! We stopped for a few minutes and my spirits were uplifted. The aid station was Star Wars themed – this race truly has the BEST aid stations. Not only are they frequent, but the volunteers are also incredible. I forgot about my feet and after saying goodbye to our friends, we went along our way.


Until we were alone again on the canal and…oh yeah, my feet still hurt. I decided to keep running until the next aid station at mile 34 (Christmas cookies!), and reassess there.

Okay, cookies eaten, said hi to Santa, I think my feet are feeling better? (NOT REALLY NO. LIAR!). My pace started to drag. I decided to continue until mile 38 and then pull the plug – had to get to the red velvet cake 38 special!

This is the point at which I realized I could not be trusted. “I’ll just run until the next aid station” became my equivalent of “I’ll just eat one more cookie.” Continuing to run didn’t seem to be doing much damage at the time – until the pain felt magnified by the time I reached mile 38. I knew I could keep running and finish this race if I really wanted to – but at what cost? It wasn’t worth it.

I was grateful to have made it so far, and now it was time to face reality. I stuffed a piece of cake into my face and told E to finish for both of us. We moved past the aid station and I watched him run ahead until he eventually disappeared. My vision of us finishing hand in hand, experiencing victory and celebrating our teamwork as we did in Quebec was shattered. I was surprised by how upset I was, overcome with feelings of defeat and being left behind, even though I knew that this moment would likely come. I couldn’t help but become invested in this race. I was only 12 miles away from my first 50 mile finish!

Running was off the table, but walking wasn’t quite as painful. I wasn’t sure if I should turn around and drop out (what the “should” voice told me to do) or give myself a few more miles to at least finish that damn canal section (what the stubborn voice told me to do). I kept walking. The noise of the aid station faded away. I felt aimless even though I was still moving forward. Several people passed me including walkers and I was deep into my lowest low when an older man named John walked up beside me. He was a 5am starter and was moving at a brisk pace, but one that I could maintain. I learned that this was his 13th JFK50 and that since getting his hip replaced, he race walks marathons and ultras, including this past MCM. Amazing! I couldn’t believe that I could actually walk the remaining 12 miles and make all the cut offs. I couldn’t have done this alone in the cold and dark – but with company? Perhaps I could finish after all. I felt my spirits lift and even though I knew that this was probably not good for my feet, I felt renewed inspiration to keep going.

As we were chatting on the canal, a young woman named Aly approached us. “Did I hear that you guys are walking? Can I join you?” She was in the same boat as me – unable to run due to pain but wanting to “step it out.” She had quite an impressive string of races under her belt since running her first ultra (a 100 miler!) in April, including two more 100’s and several other distances. Her most recent race was a 50 miler just two weeks before the JFK50 – no wonder her hip was hurting!

I was particularly grateful to have met Aly, as she waited for me at the next aid station while I put on another layer (a long sleeve merino wool top that saved me) and John continued walking to keep his pace. Eric had left me a sweet message with the wonderful aid station volunteers, who passed along his love and cheered me on as we hit the road. THANK YOU volunteers! I was very sad not to be running with him, but I knew that I would soon be joining him at the finish, one way or another.

12265816_10153653423140821_4736954714938961383_o (1)

THE FINISH (Miles 41.8-50.2)

It was wonderful to finally be free of the canal. It felt like an accomplishment in its own right, even though we still had 8 miles left to go. There were mile markers counting down to the finish, which was awesome and helped us pace ourselves to beat the cut offs. Aly is a 3:33 marathoner like me, and it was slight torture knowing that such a short distance to run would take hours to walk, but so it goes. At least I was in good company and the scenery was beautiful! The sun set as we walked along the gently rolling country roads, and I felt very peaceful as I took in the gorgeous skies and fields filled with cows.

We calculated that we could keep a 14-15min/mile pace and finish well before 7pm (12 hours), when the finish line closes. I don’t think I would have attempted this had I been on my own. It soon got very dark – we were wearing reflective vests and the volunteers were amazing at helping to keep us safe, although we were still walking on a road with traffic which was a bit scary in total darkness. It also got very cold and I couldn’t get warm despite our brisk pace. My foot pain was getting worse too, although it’s amazing how adrenaline and focus on a single goal can dull pain and make it difficult to objectively assess how your body truly feels. Each mile was difficult but felt manageable with the finish line on my brain and my walking buddy by my side. The awesome aid stations with hot soup and cookies also helped – there were THREE during the last 8 miles! Talk about well supported.

This was my first time truly at the back of the pack, and it was a humbling, emotional and inspiring experience. I loved interacting with other walkers and runners, everyone encouraging one another as we all tried to beat the clock. My favorite part of this section involved a man dressed as Mr. Incredible, who we had seen earlier on the canal blasting music from speakers on his bike. He apparently has done this for years. We were walking in the dark silence with many more miles to go when out of nowhere I heard music and saw the road light up. I looked back and there he was, our live DJ riding next to us, playing great rock tunes and illuminating the road with a spot light. I can’t even tell you how uplifting this was – THANK YOU Mr. Incredible! You made my day.

Aly and I caught up to John and another walker with a few miles to go. I was moving more slowly by this point so Aly walked ahead, while John assured me that I had plenty of time to spare and could slow my pace down if I wished. He kept me company for the last few miles, coaching me along and telling me exactly what was left until the finish. I am fortunate to have found so many amazing people out on the course – this race really was a team effort.

I heard the finish before I saw it. I was shivering and hobbling along, but that sound was energizing. We turned right and I saw an area of light ahead. I remember waiting in the dark and cold for E to emerge from the darkness to finish his race last year. Now it was my turn. I thanked John for his support and started to “run” (ahem, shuffle) as soon as I hit the lit section of the road to cross the finish line. I felt so happy to have made it – shocked, really! My watch died hours before I finished, but you can check out my Garmin details here.

E had finished about 30 minutes before me (check out his awesome race report) and thank goodness had just made it back down to the finish line a few minutes before I arrived after grabbing our bags. Whatever had been masking the pain and kept me moving forward over the last few hours was ripped away at the finish. I went from all smiles and walking with a purpose to sobbing and shivering uncontrollably, unable to take a single step. The pain was brutal. I could barely move and was slightly frightened at what I had just done to myself. Respect the distance, E always told me. Seriously. People run double this distance?!

E wasn’t feeling too hot either, but managed to get me to the main building at the Springfield Middle School, where they had food, drinks, medical etc. I piled on the layers and had a hot drink but still could not stop shivering or crying. Total mess. We went to the medical area where I was treated by some wonderful doctors. There wasn’t much to be done other than ice and elevate my feet, hydrate, and see my sports doctor when I got back to NYC, but they took good care of me. One doctor even walked me to the front of the building and personally spoke with someone in charge of the shuttles to make sure I was taken right to my car, given I couldn’t walk. Everyone was so helpful and kind. I cannot speak more highly of this race in terms of the organization and support. No wonder so many people come back year after year to participate!


I felt miserable the following week – foot pain and body aches magnified by a terrible virus that kept me in bed for several days.  I felt conflicted about my whole race experience. Had I been stubborn and foolish in pushing myself to finish, potentially injuring myself and making myself sick? Or was I being resilient and should I feel proud of myself for finishing? It was confusing, nothing like my previous ultra finishes.

I am finally healthy again and walking like a normal person without any pain. My x-rays were negative (no MRI yet), though I’m continuing to take time off of running to make sure whatever is going on heals properly. It’s been nice to a break after such a busy running season. I signed up for a two-week Class Pass trial and am loving all the variety from so many different cross-training activities!


So, was it worth it? That’s the question I’ve been grappling with these last two weeks. I think it was. It was a really tough race – one that taught me important lessons about myself and my body – and how can I not be proud of myself for running 50 miles? The JFK50 was an amazing race – I agree that it’s a great first 50 miler – and I’m glad I came back this year to finish the entire course. That said, I think I’m fine not running an ultra for awhile. I’m respecting the distance – and my body.

I hurt. Everywhere. But it’s worth it, in return for an exhilarating weekend in the Lake District with a group of wonderful friends!

Here’s the breakdown: two nights in a cute B&B in Ambleside; a crazy 17km trail race on Saturday afternoon in fantastic weather; a delicious, indulgent post-race dinner at the aptly named Drunken Duck; a tough but stunning 9M hike/scramble/run from Glenridding to Helvelyn via Striding Edge on Sunday; and a never-ending, four-part train/tube journey and walk in the pouring rain home (okay, that last part – not fun).

We arrived relatively late on Friday night (the journey is about 3.5 hours from London to Windermere on the train) and had a relaxing night at our B&B, Easedale Lodge. After a good night’s sleep and a big breakfast on Saturday morning, we drove to Staveley for the 17km and 10km trail races in the early afternoon. It was a glorious day out – sunny but not too hot, with a chilly breeze – perfect running weather! Here’s part of our group just after we picked up our race numbers.

The scenery was fantastic although the course itself was perhaps not my favorite – I hate rocks, especially loose rocks, and most of all on steep downhills – although this run had a bit of everything in terms of terrain. My body took a beating, but it was a good challenge and a fun day out, particularly because I ran most of the race with a couple friends, which I never do. It was like a guided training run, so chilled out! Well, at least in the beginning…Here’s one of the official race photos (excuse the circles), just under an hour into the race.

At a certain point, actually before the above photo was taken, the terrain became a lot more treacherous, even at my slower than usual pace, and my sole focus became simply not falling over or twisting an ankle. I did slip and fall on my knee once, but thankfully on soft grass so no harm done! I separated from my friends and tried to pick up the pace in the last few miles or so (I couldn’t help it – it was a race after all), which went well until I hit a series of turnstiles and various things we had to climb/jump over (walls, rivers, animals…), followed by a never-ending killer uphill and an equally endless rocky downhill to the finish. This was particularly nerve-racking because the front runners of the 17km Trail Race, which had started an hour after the Challenge, were yelling at me to move (there was nowhere to go) while barrelling down the narrow path and practically knocking me over. But I survived and eventually was back on the tarmac, pushing the pace once again.

I managed to squeeze in a nice long sprint finish on the grass after crossing the bridge above, coming in 47th out of 280 runners in the Challenge with a time of 1:47:47 (I would’ve placed 169th with that time in the Trail Race – although obviously I would’ve been going faster had I done the Race). Here are my Garmin details – unfortunately my watch died at 1:39ish, so it’s missing a chunk towards the end, but you get the idea. My friends came in a couple minutes behind me, in 53rd and 55th place, and E came in 133rd, just over the two-hour mark. I tried running with him but it didn’t quite work out – gave up after doubling back to find him several times and literally not being able to go his pace – thankfully he didn’t mind. He prefers to run alone, as I often do.

After finishing, we collapsed on the grass with well-earned pints of cold pear cider and some food, while waiting for our other friends to finish the 10k and soaking up the race atmosphere. Good times!

And what’s better than passing out on the grass after a race in the sunshine? A hot shower and nap back at the B&B, followed by a massive, delicious dinner with our friends! We booked the Drunken Duck months in advance, and it was definitely worth the wait.

We were hurting on Sunday morning – not sure if more from the copious amounts of food and red wine or from the trail running – but that didn’t stop us from attempting a massive hike a few towns away with another couple as insane as us! Our friend had been raving about a popular 9M hike from Glenridding to Helvellyn via Striding Edge – it was probably the most hard-core hike I’ve done in a very long time, not even taking into account that we practically had to run the entire second half down the mountain to get back in time for our cab and train!

I took hundreds of photos – just couldn’t get enough of the scenery! I’ve included some of my favorites below, and uploaded a few more here. You can also check out E’s Garmin details – he had his watch running for parts of the hike – the elevation profile is mental!

We started in the town of Glenridding – here are the boys referring to the trail map to make sure we’re headed in the right direction.

Nice and easy to start, well, for everyone except for E, who apparently didn’t get enough trail running in the day before!

Gorgeous scenery – so green, so many adorable lambs!

We were all quite stiff from the previous day’s trail race, but after warming up a bit, it felt great to do a proper hike. The sun wasn’t shining, but at least the weather held for most of the afternoon.

Action shot! [cue theme music]

It was so exhilarating being up in the mountains – a great escape from London!

Although I still really didn’t like the rocks, especially given I wasn’t wearing proper hiking boots. My trail shoes did the job, though!

The hike was reasonably challenging but not too bad up until this point – where it became a somewhat scary climb to the summit. It’s hard to get a real sense of scale in the photo below, but it was like walking (/climbing/crawling) along a jagged knife edge. Incredible views on all sides – although I was trying my best not to focus on anything other than my feet in front of me!

Here we go!

E was totally in his element and kept running along the ridge and along the trails beneath. It was kind of giving me a heart attack.

And there he goes again, thankfully on a safer trail!

This next rock climbing part was the only section where I was actually a bit freaked out – but E guided me through it and I quite enjoyed it in the end. I was, for the most part, too busy trying not to die, but managed to snap this photo before going down.

Having finally completed the ridge portion of the hike, we took in the views. Was hard to believe we had just done that (look at how small the people are in the distance)!

But it wasn’t over yet – next up was a tough scramble up to the summit. I was pretty much on my hands and knees, trying not to slip on all the loose rocks, so no photos of this section, although here are our friends on the other side of the mountain, nearly at the summit (there were many different paths to the top).

Finally, we made it – stunning 360 degree views of the lakes and mountains!

And then we took a nice lunch break, checking out the views on the other side. I can’t tell you how good our sandwiches tasted!

Unfortunately, we had a cab to catch at 3:30pm – we knew when we hit the trail a few hours before that the timing would be tight, but having just over an hour to get back was insane! And so we ate quickly and pretty much ran a good chunk of the way back down the mountain. Except, as you can see, a lot of sections weren’t exactly conducive to running…

Thankfully, the path evened out for a bit, but then went back to rocky steep downhill sections. We ran/walked and as the deadline drew closer, practically flew down the mountain. It’s a miracle we didn’t get injured – it’s always when you’re very fatigued towards the end of a run or hike that you often get hurt. Although we were certainly hurting!

We were making great time and thought we would hit 3:30 on the dot when we discovered we had taken a wrong turn, putting us one town over from our pickup location. And so E and I pretty much sprinted the last couple of miles to Glenridding and just barely caught our cab. Another one of those marathon-like moments where you get a surge of energy you just didn’t think you had in you! Slightly stressful, but what an exciting afternoon.

Back at the train station, after discovering we had gotten off at the wrong stop and missed our connecting train, we sat in the waiting room, still sweaty from our sprint finish, while the pain of the day(s) really started to sink in…

But as Murakami’s saying goes, “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” So true – so much pain, and yet so much happiness.

Guest Post

Given that spring marathon season is approaching, Claire asked me to give a quick run down on my first experience of running a marathon. So here is some sound and thoughtful advice to those of you who are about to unleash your forward fury upon the world and breach the physical and physiological barrier of the great unknown that is 26.2 miles – The Marathon!

Come ye, all hear the wise words and rejoice I say! Rejoice!! Hey now… stop that! That’s my foot!

Well then, perhaps I should just take questions – yes, you there. Go ahead… What? I can’t hear you – please speak up!

Okay, not literally YOUR questions, but certainly the questions from my friends and loved ones that infected and informed my own journey to the finish line of the NYC Marathon in 2010.

Q: How far is that?

It depends. My GPS watch said I actually ran 28 miles – I’m told that the zigging and zagging can start to add up over time so I’m not going to dispute this (besides the fact that my watch once had me going 200mph in a UFO over Kansas, but I digress). The point is: don’t be a hero – run in a straight line.

Q: How did you do that?

It’s easy. You put one foot in front of the other. And you stop when you’re done. I really expected a lot more from you, Grandma.

Q: What’s your secret?

Good looks. Good genes. Vaseline and Ibuprofen. Don’t under-estimate the power of anti-inflammatory chemicals to reduce swelling on the run. Now, if only for the swelling of my head…

Q: How did you not destroy your legs? Or did you?

Invest in form. The single best piece of advice is to have a team of people teach you how to run correctly. Proper alignment, form, foot-strike, cadence, arm motion and breathing approach will trump any piece of technology that exists on the planet (and trust me, I’ve bought them all).

Q: Best thing you saw during the race?

Not saw – heard. One woman spectator shouted, “You guys have great stamina…AND I AM SINGLE!” I’m not sure how she found out about me; Facebook really is amazing these days.

Q: Did you listen to music?

I debated this question for a long time. Music really helped me in my training, and it’s a nice companion when the voices in your head are telling you to stop. The problem is that after 2 hours, the voices telling you to stop will always be louder then the music in your ears, so you need to spend time getting acquainted with these voices in your training. Reason with them, and if all else fails, tell them to go !@#!@# themselves.

Q: What fuel did you use?

Everything. I would have ordered a pizza had I had any loose change on me.

Q: Did you hit the wall? What was it like?

People talk about hitting the wall like it’s something unfamiliar – something unique and troubling that will shake you to your core and that you couldn’t have possibly experienced before the last 10km of a race this distance. I found the reality to be quite different. As soon as I felt “the wall,” my first instinct was, “Hey, I’ve felt this feeling before…” It’s a feeling of exhaustion and depletion that comes to us all from time to time; normally for me, after sitting and answering questions for 20 minutes.

Q: Did you win?


Q: Really?

Okay, not really. But I DID beat world record marathon holder Haile Gebrselassie, who was so battered from my relentless psychological taunting that he just gave up half way through the race. I really expected more from a world champion, to be honest.

Q: Would you do it again?

Honestly, I can’t wait. I was so excited at the finish line that I basically jumped over a fence, sprinted past the goodie bags, and then ran 10 blocks up to meet my family for a celebratory, “Hey look! I can still walk!” high-five session.

Q: Did you use a mantra?

Yes, “This is what you came here for” – Deadmau5 track. My mantra worked until about mile 25, at which point I felt myself mentally lather: “Please just enjoy this exquisite pain – swim in the exquisiteness of this. Bathe in this experience – over and over again – the exquisite pain…”

It’s true – I came for the pain, and then the pain came for me. And THAT’s what I came there for.


Welcome to FFR

Hi, I'm Claire! I’m a Registered Dietitian Nutritionist (MS, RD, CDN) and a Road Runners Club of America certified coach. This is where I share my latest adventures in running, racing, food & travel! If you'd like to work with me, please visit my professional website, Eat for Endurance.

My PRs

Marathon (Chicago): 3:33:18
Boston Marathon: 3:36:14
Half-Marathon: 1:37:21
10M: 1:14:52
10k: 44:52

My latest photos

Beautiful wedding celebrating my cousin! Perfect weather, yummy food, and quality time with my family. Great way to wrap up my week in California!
#Tbt to the last time I ran, at nearly #23weekspregnant carrying Arielle across the #mini10k finish line earlier this month! During my 1st pregnancy, I was able to keep running until 34/35 weeks and ran over 1,000 miles...this pregnancy, I have kept fairly low mileage and started to feel uncomfortable at around 21/22 weeks, so at the recommendation of my awesome prenantal PT @finishlinept, I have stopped running (for now at least - if things improve I may be able to run/walk later on). I’m much bigger this time (already nearly at my full-term weight with Arielle) and my pelvic floor muscles are very weak, leading to discomfort and leaking (sorry, TMI!). An old hip injury was also starting to flare up. It’s a big bummer to potentially be taking 6 months off running but committed to keeping myself injury free before and after birth. Planning to maintain fitness through strength training, a variety of Peloton classes, and other low impact exercises. Just goes to show that every pregnancy is so different and you have to listen to your body rather than compare yourself to others - or even to your own body at a different point in time! 🤰🏻
Today’s lunch on the deck just as the sun finally came out! Chickpeas over greens and various veggies with candied walnuts, avo and balsamic dressing + ginger kombucha.
Nothing says home like a super burrito in the sunshine from my fav taqueria! Got this for lunch on my way back from the airport yesterday. Gigantic and I finished every bite. So good!
Wow - traveling without a kid when you’re not used to it is very strange and strangely easy! Gonna miss my baby so much but gotta say - seeing everyone else’s screaming children and thinking “not my problem” is pretty amazing! 🤣 Grabbed a whole milk latte and deciding which of my various snacks to eat first - think I’ll go with a spinach oat muffin and my 1/2 PB&J bagel. These were all super easy to grab/prepare (well minus the muffins) - I never leave the house without snacks, especially for a flight! Have a great week everyone!
Happy Father’s Day to all the Dad’s out there, and especially to @trailrunr_! We are enjoying a chilled out weekend after a week of work travel for him and before I take off for a trip home to California early tomorrow to visit family. First time being away from Arielle for an entire week...def lots of mixed feelings about that one! We had a great bagel brunch this morning with eggs and for lunch, cooked up this delicious avo bacon toast on WW with roasted broccoli and 🌈 carrots (not ready yet when I took the pic). Made the bacon in the oven at 425F (same temp as veg) after trimming away some of the fat - still really tasty and crispy, but slightly leaner. 🥓 Yum! Have a wonderful Sunday! #happyfathersday #brunch #eatforendurance

Flying Tweets

Recent Posts

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 61 other followers

Oldies but goodies


%d bloggers like this: