One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, my son Sully was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. At the time, I saw the diagnosis process as difficult, frustrating and scary. But now, one year later, we have the gifts of perspective and knowledge, and I am grateful we persevered and got the answers Sully needed.

Kevin's fair complexion and naturally youthful
looks successfully mask the utter exhaustion
felt in this photo.

Our journey to diagnosis started very soon after Sully was born. I worried about autism since almost the very beginning. I just always had a feeling something wasn’t right. Sully was a difficult baby. He screamed almost non-stop and was constantly sick. Most of my memories from his infancy involve my feelings of inadequacy, exhaustion, and fear. By the time he was nine months old, Sully had had so many ear infections that it was impossible to keep an accurate count. We tried everything to keep from having surgery, but at 10 months old Sully had his first operation for ear tube placement. I have always reminded myself that we are lucky because Sully hasn’t had serious illnesses or surgeries – my heart goes out to families battling pediatric cancer and other terrible conditions. But the first four years of Sully’s life did seem like unending parade of ailments and doctors’ appointments. He was constantly using a nebulizer to be able to breath due to pediatric asthma, and regularly saw an asthma specialist. He developed strabismus, which means his eyes started crossing. He’s been seeing a pediatric ophthalmologist since he was six months old and wears corrective lenses to keep his eyes straight. By the time he was five, Sully had had six surgeries on his ears and adenoids. Due to the chronic ear infections, he had hearing loss and his language was delayed. He sees an ENT and hearing specialist and used Early Intervention services until three years old.

As Sully grew, I began to worry more and more about his social and behavioral development. Activities like music and swim classes or birthday parties, which other parents seemed to enjoy with their children, were stressful for us. Sully would refuse to participate and have meltdowns. People kept telling me it would get easier, but it never did. They said, when he turns four it’s a big turning point, the behavior will get better. Four came and went, and things didn’t get easier. Then it was five, but no change. As a mother, sometimes I wanted to tear my hair out. I couldn’t understand why everyone else seemed to have control of their lives and their kids, but I just couldn’t seem to make it work. The hardest part was that no one seemed to be listening to me when I tried to express concerns. The pediatricians brushed my questions off. They said he has great eye contact, he speaks well, and the hand and leg flapping is just a tick that will go away. But it didn’t go away. The truth is that any given doctor, provider, or even teacher sees a child a very small percentage of their day-to-day life. They only see a snapshot of who a kid really is. I never could understand why my opinion seemed to be discredited, just because I wasn’t a medical professional or an educator. In hindsight, I wish I had stood as more of an advocate for my son earlier. I learned too late that I needed to advocate more strongly for him and trust my intuition as his mother.

Credit: Victoria Dosch Photography

Finally, I found a therapist to work with Sully to help with his anxiety and social issues. She seemed to see what I was seeing, and recommended we take Sully to see a neurologist. I talked to the pediatrician and put my foot down – they needed to submit the referral. They sent me to a neurologist nearby, and I called and called many times, but they never answered or returned my call. I then asked the pediatrician to send me somewhere else, which they did, and I had a similar experience. Then, I asked local mothers for recommendations and narrowed it down to the pediatric neurologist I wanted to see at North Shore Medical Center. Once I got the referral and called the office, we got in to see her pretty quickly. We went in for the appointment and filled out a bunch of paperwork, and Sully and I met together with the doctor. Sully was distracted and I didn’t really feel the appointment was that useful. However, the Dr. did say she wanted Sully referred to the department upstairs that would do the full testing which lasted over the course of two appointments, for a total of about five hours. She told me she thought Sully had some sort of anxiety disorder, but she didn’t feel he was on the autism spectrum.

As soon as the appointment was over, I got the necessary paperwork from the receptionist and filled it out right there to get Sully on the wait list for testing. Lizzy and Sully tore apart the waiting room while I filled out a monotony of the same questions I felt like I had been filling out since Sully was born – does your child have difficulty expressing his/her feelings? Does he/she maintain eye contact when speaking to you?

Anyway, then I waited a couple months. Didn’t hear anything. So I called. They had NO RECORD OF MY KID. They had lost the paperwork. AWESOME! I filled out the paperwork again. This time, I copied it before I gave it back to them. Right after I sent it I called again to make sure they had received. Yes, they had the paperwork.

So I waited again. Didn’t hear anything. Called again. Oh, we’re missing such and such form.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???

All in, we were on the wait list for eight months for testing. Eight months? To me that makes no sense. That’s eight months we’ll never get back. Those eight months in school for Sully were awful. We didn’t know what was wrong, we didn’t know what to do. We couldn’t get Sully the services he needed, as he didn’t have a diagnosis and didn’t qualify.

Once we got the call and got scheduled with the doctor, things progressed more quickly. First, my husband and I met with the Dr. to discuss how the testing would work. Then, two separate testing days were scheduled for Sully. The staff and doctors were very nice and we had a good experience. Sully seemed to do well on both days of testing. After the two days of tests, we scheduled another time with the Dr. for just my husband and me to talk over the results.

I remember when the Dr. said, I’ve given Sully the diagnosis of Level I Autism with a secondary diagnosis of general anxiety. I remember feeling very calm. It was like her words went right through my like vapor. What had she just said? What? WHAT? I listened and took careful notes. I nodded and asked questions, but I felt numb all over.

After the meeting concluded I asked for directions to the restroom. I remember going into the small quiet bathroom and thinking to myself, wow, that just happened. The thing I’ve been dreading for five years, the thing I’ve desperately needed more information about, but simultaneously desperately did NOT want to hear, I just heard.

But I was surprised by how devastated I did not feel. Having someone tell you your child has autism does not change what you see when you look at your child. Sully was the same to me, I loved him just the same. I didn’t feel any different. I had often wondered and worried that some day a Dr. would tell me there was something wrong with my child. I had imagined I would feel devastated – that I would go home and cry and want to retreat from life. But when it did happen, I didn’t feel that way at all. I remember standing in that little green bathroom, and thinking, now it all makes sense. A small part of me wanted to run out and scream SEE I AM NOT CRAZY, THIS HAS BEEN REALLY FUCKING HARD! A small part of me felt relieved. I had often felt broken as a mother, like I was incapable. I felt like I couldn’t handle my child, and I hadn’t realized that was because he needed to be handled differently than many other children. Because everyone had brushed off my concerns for so long, I thought the fault was with me as a mother.

Once you receive an autism diagnosis, it’s difficult to know exactly what to do from there. When the doctor diagnosed him, I wanted to begin a concrete plan of action. I asked the Dr. what to do from here – she suggested social skills groups, therapy, and to begin working on the IEP with the school. I asked if there would be any follow up appointments with her, and she very kindly said no. So we said goodbye and I’ve not seen her since. Very strange in many ways…

After the diagnosis, we didn’t want anyone to see Sully differently. Kevin and I took several weeks to tell anyone. We worried that once people heard “autism,” they’d think there was something wrong with Sully. Or that they’d believe he couldn’t do certain things because of his diagnosis. I didn’t want autism to be a “crutch”. I knew there were a lot of common misconceptions about ASD, and I wanted to protect my baby from that. I worried that if his friends’ parents found out he had ASD, he wouldn’t get invited to birthday parties and playdates, or that people would treat him differently. But over the last year, I’ve realized that part of the responsibility for changing that perception lies with me. By talking about our experiences, I hope to change the misconceptions and improve the stigma around ASD.

I was obviously very frustrated by how long it had taken to get the diagnosis. I’m not really into regrets – I like to learn from mistakes and try to grow. Instead of looking back and regretting, I try to look forward and learn. But I do truly regret not pushing for more answers earlier for Sully. He didn’t get a diagnosis until he was five years old, even though many children can be diagnosed at three. In those two years, he missed out on valuable services that could have made life a lot easier for us all.

I would say that I can’t believe it’s been a year since Sully’s diagnosis, but that wouldn’t be true. It feels like it’s been longer than a year because he’s grown and changed so much. I was so fearful to get a diagnosis. But in reality, it has set us free and opened so many doors for Sully to excel. Thanks to his IEP and excellent teachers, he has the help and support he needs at school to succeed. He’s doing wonderfully, loves math and reading, and has many friends at school. As parents, we feel like we understand Sully better.

As I said, I like to keep moving forward and improving myself and the lives of my family. As I look to the future, I know that Sully has a full and bright life ahead of him, and that the last year is only the beginning of his beautiful and unique story.

Credit: Victoria Dosch Photography

9 days

So here we are – 9 days until the Boston Marathon. 

Last Saturday, I headed out for my last long run before the start of my taper – 20 miles. My team mates had run the Hop21 the week before, from the starting line at Hopkinton to the top of Heartbreak Hill in Newton. I ran with them, but per my physical therapist’s orders, I stopped after 16 miles. My plan was to peak the next weekend. It wasn’t easy to drop out of the Hop after only 16 miles, but after 16 miles I felt reasonably good, like I could have kept running, so ending on a high note was nice. I felt excited for the following week.

Team Flutie before the Hop21

I decided to head back into Boston for my 20 miler so I could run it on the course. My teammates run most Saturdays from Copley on the course, then turn around and run back. I planned to run with them, but just go further than the others. 10 miles out to Wellesley, then turn around and run back, up Heartbreak Hill and back to Copley Square. I wanted to experience those blasted hills I’ve heard so much about.

I guess it is only fitting that my longest run of my training was a complete disaster, because this whole training experience has really just been a disaster. I ran from the finish line backwards on the course, which means I ran uphill for six miles. But I felt ok. As I reached the Johnny Kelley statue and snapped my picture, my teammates started to turn around and head back. While I was

Last Saturday at mile 7

running, I reflected on how difficult it has been for me to see my teammates succeeding, healthily running, improving themselves, and looking forward to their impending marathon finishes. I have struggled for the last three months. After tearing my quad Jan. 12, I took six weeks off running. I struggle with depression and anxiety, and running is a big part of managing it. So as a result, my depression flared up as well as my physical injury. Then once I got back to running, I found that although my stamina was ok, (thanks to a whole lot of lap swimming) my body was certainly not healed. It seemed the quad tear had healed with scar tissue pulling on my knee. Whenever I ran, I had real pain in my knee, as well as in my quad and shin. Because of this, my pace had slowed way down, and my overall pace was slowed down more by the need to utilize run/walk intervals.

I have been under the care of numerous doctors and specialists, including my physical therapist, acupuncturist, chiropractor, and orthopedist. I’ve had all the tests, xrays and scans and have the OK from all these individuals to keep running. Over a week ago I visited Newton Wellesley hospital where a leading surgeon gave me a cortisone injection in my knee. I hoped this would solve enough of the pain to get me through my training and enable me to complete the marathon. But alas, the injection has done nothing, and I am in just as much pain as before.

One of the great things about being a part of the Charity Teams group (which is about 300 runners comprised of different Boston Marathon charity teams), is that there is a ton of support. Facebook groups, group runs etc. But when you’re injured, and you either can’t run at all or can’t run as well as you’re used to, the FOMO can be intense. I’m embarrassed to say that I have suffered from some serious jealousy. I haven’t been able to participate in many group workouts, and when I have, I’ve been isolated due to my pace. My teammates are wonderfully kind and supportive, but I feel like I’m weighing them down. In hindsight, I realize that I retreated further away, trying not to check the Facebook group page, and not wanting to attend group events, because it honestly just hurt so much to be around healthy runners.

Last Saturday, as I started to run by myself and the aid stations ran out, I realized it was the first warm(ish) day of the season. It was pushing 60 degrees, and when you’re used to training in 10 degree weather, you feel it. I also had chosen not to run with my Camelbak, instead using my hydration belt with two small six ounce bottles. I had learned the previous week that Cambelbaks are not allowed in the marathon, which makes perfect sense as they are a security threat. Anyway, I was surprised by how quickly I was going through water, and how hungry I was. Luckily I found a water fountain in front of someone’s house (oh Newton, I love you), and ate a Huma gel pack, but as I turned at the Newton Fire Station at mile 9, I still started to feel really crappy. 

I had felt exhausted going into the run, due to an intensely stressful few weeks at work and in my personal life. I’ve come to realize that I just have a stressful job and that’s not going to change, and in general I handle it well. But over the last month I’ve been crumpling a bit under pressure and am truly struggling to balance everything. There’s also a lot of strain trying to keep up with my kids, their activities, and school requirements. I haven’t been sleeping well and wake up exhausted with headaches. This morning, I woke up to find my left eye swollen and red. I know it’s partially due to my swim goggles which irritate the skin around my eye, but still - I look like Quasimodo. Awesome.

Members of the Flutie Team before our run last Saturday

Anyway…

My knee had been hurting during the whole run, but it always hurts and I’m usually able to manage the pain. My PT has been teaching me how to tell the difference between manageable and unmanageable pain, and so far I had made it work. But as I headed into mile 10, I started to really worry I couldn’t do this. Yet I continued. I’ve never cut a run short, and I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the concept of not finishing. I would finish – that was it.

I turned around at mile 10 and headed back. Past the firehouse and a right turn to start the Newton Hills. Hill one – done. Hill two and three, complete. Then I started up Hill four – Heartbreak. I was feeling like absolute shit. I was in so much pain in my knee that I thought I was going to throw up. I ran up Heartbreak, but then tried to go down the other side. My body just wouldn’t let me. My knee gave out and I fell. I got up and walked a bit, then tried again. Fell again. I knew I had to stop. If I kept going, I would do real damage and not be able to run the actual marathon.

I collapsed on the front steps of a Chestnut Hill mansion and wept, clutching my leg in agony and fighting nausea from the pain. I ordered an uber, but soon after I stood up and said dammit, I just cannot quit. I cancelled the uber and started running again. I fell again. The tiny rational part of my runner’s brain said, enough Jennifer. Just stop. Sometimes the right thing to do is to quit. I called another Uber. Eric in a grey Hyundai Sonata came and picked me up. I kept my earbuds in so Eric in the grey Hyundai Sonata would not talk to me. I knew that if Eric in the grey Hyundai Sonata tried small talk with me, I might just throttle him.

So that’s the story of my final long run. 15 miles. The worst run ever. I texted my PT and she told me she felt confident it had only happened because of the extreme uphills I had put my knee through, and that on the actual course I would be ok. Plus, I needed to change my fueling scheme, and would likely not be as run down physically and mentally on marathon Monday. We’d also incorporate some new exercises to further strengthen my quad and knee, and I’d rest during my taper and all would be ok. Another project was to focus on form, so that as I tired, my form would not be affected causing more pain. I thought she was nuts.

After everything I’ve been through, I finally felt defeated. I wanted to quit. I’ve raised the money, no one can take that away from me, who really cares if I put my body through this? The whole point of my running is supposed to be to have fun. I usually really enjoy running. I mean I love it, a lot. But I haven’t enjoyed much of my running over the last six weeks. I mean, I guess, I haven’t enjoyed it at all. It’s been miserable. It’s been really miserable.

So I went home. I cried, I showered, cried, ate, cried, and I slept. I rested. I saw my PT on Monday and again on Wednesday. I cried. I swam, I rested. Finally, I did start to feel a lot better. My PT is a gem and she really helped as she walked me through what had happened. She checked my quad and it was not re-torn as I had feared. She instructed me to run four miles Wednesday night, which I did. It was ok – I had pain in the knee, but it was a lot better.

Over the last week I’ve done some serious thinking about if I even want to do this race. People tell me that I can crawl across the finish line if I have to. But what I’ve realized about myself is – although I really do respect people who crawl to the finish, it’s just not me. I’m not sure I’m a person who can crawl across the finish. I’m a runner, not a crawler. My gut reaction has also been that I don’t like to toe the starting line of a race I’m so unsure I can finish. The possibility of a DNF is really hard for me to swallow. However, through my contemplation, I’ve come to realize that, whether we know it or not, every race we start has a possibility of ending unfinished. What about the mighty Deena Kastor in the 2008 Beijing Olympics – a favorite to win, and after only three miles, her foot broke and she was forced to withdraw. Deena was at the peak of her physical and mental strength, and had no idea there was anything wrong with her foot. Yet it happened. Isn’t this a metaphor for life? We really just don’t know what is going to happen. But if we just give up, how can we possibly find joy in anything? 

At my saddest moments, my mind turns to the 2013 Boston Marathon. All those people who trained for five months and woke up on Patriots Day anticipating their own Boylston moment, but were forced to DNF because of a terrorist attack. And of course the three people who died and hundreds who were injured. Those poor people would love to be me with a superficial injury to my knee. If my biggest problem is whether I can finish some silly race, I guess I’m pretty fortunate.

Making the choice to train and run a marathon is certainly a monumental and unique endeavor. But in ways I did not anticipate, the stakes are much higher with the Boston Marathon than the other two marathons I have run. Obviously it’s hard to get into, everyone knows that. Either you qualify or you go through the arduous process of being accepted to a charity team, and then raising all the money. But beyond that, I find the experience of Boston to be very exposed. I feel like everyone is watching. Anyone can look up your bib and track you. My parents and my mother in law are all visiting to watch me run. Even my coworkers will even be coming to the finish line, and my teammates will be there too. The other day at my community center, someone I don’t know told me “good luck with the marathon!” 150 people have donated to my fundraiser, bringing in over $11,000. When you think about it, running something like Boston is amazing in ways many people don’t initially realize. For a non-elite athlete with a job and a family to voluntary put him or herself out there, with such a high probability of failure, is amazing. To voluntarily walk up to the start line is almost like shouting “Hey, millions of people watching, I might fall, I might break bones, I literally might SHIT MY PANTS, but I’m putting myself out there for a good cause, to try to accomplish something great, so here I go!” In today’s world where we’re all pretending to be smarter, more confident and more successful than we really are, subjecting oneself to that kind of vulnerability is absolutely incredible.

Sully last Sunday at Preston Beach

So there it is. It’s been hard for me – I went from being able to run 10 miles at an 8:30 pace to struggling to do 15 at 11:00. I’m not sure if my body will hold up for the marathon, but I guess I’m going to try.

9 days ya’ll. 9 days until I either finish the Boston Marathon, or drink like 10 margaritas and pass out. Or maybe both? I’ve got options…

x

International Women's Day

This morning after opening my Facebook feed, I quickly learned today is International Women’s Day. How cool, I thought, we get a whole freaking day!

Unimpressed.

Anyway, during my commute, I got to thinking about this whole international women’s day thing, and I decided to jot down some of my thoughts about an aspect of womanhood that has been causing me anxiety lately: motherhood. Specifically, the guilt that comes along with it.

Lately, I often find myself feeling guilty. I have been concerned that I’m spending too much on my own self-care. I think to myself, should cut back and work out less, spend less time on my hobbies in order to focus more on my kids’ needs?

It is true that lately all the things on my plate have become a little overwhelming. Not only am I training for Boston, but I’m rehabbing a significant injury while trying to do it. In addition to my workouts which take at least an hour every day, I’m also now having to fit weekly appointments with a physical therapist, acupuncturist, and chiropractor into my schedule. Plus all the stretches, exercises, icing, and Epsom salt baths at home ordered by those providers. Actually, I can’t believe how much has been required to get my leg back to its working form. Although I was told that a torn quadriceps muscle would require a few weeks off and then I’d be back at it, I ended up having to take six weeks off of running. I cannot overemphasize the mental and emotional strain this has put on me. I am very grateful for my ability to swim laps instead of running, but with the marathon looming closer and closer, my inability to run has caused some serious emotional strain, which has also strained my relationships. I have invested a great deal of time, money, and emotional energy in this race. I have family coming into Boston specifically to see me in the race, and I don’t want to let them down if I can’t perform as well as I’d like. I also don’t want to let down the nearly 150 donors who have so far contributed to my charity.

So it’s been tough. On top of my running woes, I have an autistic son. And my daughter, Lizzy, is now going through a rough patch behaviorally at school and home. I find myself feeling guilty; and although I know many moms feel the same, I believe most fathers do not have this reaction to parenting difficulties. Yes, I’m sure men think, Wow, I’m working full time, try to spend time with my friends, I work out a lot, and it is really hard to keep up with everything. But they do not think to themselves: that is precisely why my kids are struggling. But for me, when I think about my kids’ problems, my natural answer is that it is all my fault. And that I need to give up something more than I already have about myself so my kids will be ok. I blame myself. For all of it. I feel like my daughter is being badly behaved because of me. My house is a mess because of me. Lizzy isn’t sleeping well at night because of me. Sully got strep throat this week because of me. As I was writing this blog, my husband informed me that Sully was deeply upset that we didn’t send him to school with money for the book fair. I didn’t know there was a book fair. I can’t keep up with all the notices and emails coming from the schools about all the events. I don’t think, my husband should have known there was a bookfair. I think, I am the mom. It is MY job to know these things and I have failed.

And yes, deep down I worry Sully is autistic because of me. Was there something I did when I was pregnant to make him develop this? I can’t help but feel, in my dark moments, that every study about ASD seems to involve what the moms did while pregnant. People have asked me if I had drank while pregnant with him, if I took prenatal vitamins, if I had the flu, if I got immunizations. How could I not feel like it’s my fault? No one has ever asked Kevin what he did while I was pregnant with Sully. Nobody cares that he was out partying with his friends, having a grand ‘ole time. Nope. And that is why he doesn’t worry it’s his fault. But I sometimes do.

I have a high stress, full time job with a three-hour commute. I am a wife, a mother, a homeowner, a dog owner, I’m training for the Boston Marathon, and I’m raising money for charity. It’s a lot. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is my partner and pulls his fair share. He does a lot with the kids and around the house. But my point is that society does not put the same pressures, assumptions, and unconscious bias on him. Therefore, he does not add to his plate the stress, anxiety, and guilt that I carry with me always. Because he is a man, he will never have this added, major strain that comes along with parenthood for women.

Over the last few weeks, I have found myself asking, should I give up what I love, the things that fulfill me, so that I can be a better mom?

And the answer I always come up with is no, I just can’t do that.

I think to myself, if you give up your physical fitness, then what kind of an example does that set for your children? I don’t want my kids to think that they are the king and queen of the household, and that my primary purpose in life is to serve them. Plus, I want them to think of me as more than just

Me and Misty Copeland twinning - this was taken right
after I tore my quad on a 13 mile training run. I didn't
know then exactly what had happened, but I knew
something was very wrong.

“mom.” I am a whole person, and I want them to know that person. I want them to be proud of me and I want them to see me striving for my own well being and personal goals. I think that maybe they’ll want to do the same in the future. I also know that one of these days, my kids will be gone and I need to have hobbies and interests to feel fulfilled at that point.

Both of these points are true. I don’t want to give up my hobbies and well being because I want to be a good example for my kids. I also want to still have myself and my hobbies after my kids are grown. But my gut reaction to name these reasons first begs another question. What is so wrong with me wanting to do things I enjoy simply because I like them? Why can I do these things, not for my kids, but for no one other than me?

As women, even when making justifications for taking care of ourselves, we typically cite our children as our number one reason for self-care. Why not choose to take care of ourselves for selfish reasons? I want to run because I fucking like it. I want to take care of myself because dammit, I am worth taking care of. I want to push myself to run ultras because I never thought I could do them before and I like the way that feels. I like accomplishing things at 35 I couldn’t do at 25. You know what I want to do after Boston? I want to run further than I ever have before – I’ve set my sights on a 40 mile trail race in summer 2019. And after that, I’m going to dip my toes in the open water for my first triathlon. And I’m going to do it for a lot of reasons – for my kids, for my husband, but most of all, for me.

So happy international women’s day. Being a woman shouldn’t have to mean you’re also a mother. Being a mother shouldn’t have to mean that is the only thing you are. I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister, an employee, a runner, a swimmer, a singer, a knitter, a reader, a crafter, a cake decorator, and so much more than that. I am a woman. I am me, and I won’t apologize for it.

Injury of the heart and body

I feel like most blogs start this way: I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written.

My instinct is to say that the reason I've been silent so long is because I’ve been so busy. Which is true. I have been really busy. But I know that the real reason I haven’t written is because it hurts too much to talk about running right now.

I’m injured. I tore my left quad. I haven’t run in 3.5 weeks. And I’ve been pushing off writing about running. I think that one of the reasons this has been so hard on me is because I feel like it’s my fault. I ran a 50K, and it was awesome. What a great experience. Talk about the best race I’ve ever run! I had so much fun, and in all honesty if I had it to do over, I’m not sure I would take back that race.

I felt really pretty great afterwards. Sore but not bad. I didn’t run for a week after, just swam. Then one week after, I headed out into Boston for a 13 mile training run on the course. Again, I felt great. Fine. Then, at mile 11 my quad tore. I wouldn’t take back the 50K if I could, but I would take back that 13 mile training run.

I have a great PT, and a great chiropractor. A supportive husband and great friends. My fundraising is going great and I’ve met my goal of $10,000. Everyone assures me that I should be back running very soon. But the last 3.5 weeks have been some of the longest of my life. I know this may sound over-dramatic to some people. The truth is that running is my therapy. Since becoming a mother, I have struggled with anxiety and depression, and running has been a big part of my recovery from that. Not to mention the fact that the Boston Marathon is creeping closer and closer, and I have worked so hard for this race. Just to get IN the damned thing seems nearly impossible. To get on a team, raise money, train my body, everything. I want so badly to feel better. To get back out there. I see other people running as I'm drive by, and it hurts everything about myself.

So many people ask me how I do it all - running on top of motherhood, my marriage, my job, my house, my hobbies, my other sports. The answer is that running makes it possible for me to do it all. And now, I feel like a very real, tangible part of myself is gone. 

So I try to focus on the positive, try to remain thankful for what I have. In the scheme of things, the injury is minor, and I should recover fully. I’m incredibly thankful that six months ago I invested in my training and started taking swimming lessons. For the last four weeks I’ve been swimming a mile almost every day, and I’ve been told this will keep my VO2 max up, allowing me to get back into running quickly. If I hadn't improved my swimming, I don't know what I'd be doing right now. I am really enjoying the swimming, and considering venturing in the world of triathlons (but more on that later).

But I still worry that it won’t be enough time for Boston.

I do plan to write about my experience in PT, to write more about the 50K race, and I hope to someday write inspiring things about my imminent comeback. But right now, I just have to put this out there – I am injured. My body is broken. I am trying to fix it, but I am a work in progress. Just like everyone else I suppose.

Worst.Race.Ever.

Hey hey hey! Sorry that it’s been so long! December has been truly crazy for me and my family. My Christmas Cookie fundraising campaign was apparently a great idea, because I ended up making 20 dozen cookies, and made $800 for the Doug Flutie Foundation for Autism! I’ve now raised over $6500! Just $3500 away from my fundraising goal of $10K. Whoop whoop! I’ve been overwhelmed by everyone’s support for my cause. I can’t wait to see what the next 3.5 months hold!

The cookies - yes I made 20 dozen of these...

Oh, 3.5 months…only 3.5 months until the Boston Marathon! So far, the training side of things has also been going well. I’m feeling healthy and strong, and thanks to my cross training and track workouts, I’m running faster and longer every week!

In other news, my vegetarian diet is also going well, and I survived the holiday season sans wine and seasonal cocktails. Only three days until the GAC Fat Ass 50K! Getting to Saturday’s race on a vegetarian diet and sans alcohol, for the last six weeks, was my goal. But you know what? I like the vegetarian diet so much, I’m not planning on stopping. I’m going to run the Boston Marathon fueled by plant power! But, I WILL be drinking wine at dinner with the hubs Saturday night after the race. I mean, let’s be serious, I can only do so much.

In preparing for the 50K race, I decided to kick off a runathon. I’ve been asking friends, family, and you know, perfect strangers, to pledge a dollar amount per mile I can run on Saturday. This race is perfectly suited for such shenanigans, because it’s a 10K loop runners can complete anywhere from one to five times, so I can decide in the moment how many miles I will run! My goal is to raise $20 per mile, and I’m up to $12 as of today! 

In honor of the runathon, I thought it would be fun to reflect on my best race memories. But you know, when it comes to racing, you really can’t reflect without thinking of the worst memories too. Because those are the races you really learn from. And honestly, so far, I’ve had a LOT more bad memories in races than good memories. Until recently, I have been a runner who loved training and running on my own, and didn’t really thrive in a race environment. The reason for this really boils down to one thing: I care too much about what others think of me, and put too much pressure on myself to compete with others, instead of just running my own race, and reaching for my own goals. I’m hoping to continue to change this in the future.

Through my running, improving upon this weakness - strengthening my mind, my self confidence, and my self esteem as a woman sometimes feels more empowering than the improvement in my physical strength and my body that I see as a runner.

So in this post I will tell the story of my worst race experience. Don’t worry - next week I’ll tell you about the best race I’ve run, but let’s talk about the interesting stuff first, shall we? 

Ok so my worst race. Get ready for it. The Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, Vermont. Yep. My first marathon, and Boston 2019 will be my second. I really enjoyed training for Vermont City, as I enjoy training for all my races. I’m an introvert so I actually like the solitude of running alone. I do like running with groups sometimes, but not for every run. I love to have time alone to think, and the long runs gave me that. As a mother of two little kids, time alone isn’t something I have in abundance. 

Obligatory night before the race Instagram post. People like seeing your clothes before they look gross I guess...

But throughout the training, I was plagued with injuries. I was constantly trying to stave off another piriformis injury (it was originally injured while training for the Wicked Half in September 2018) by stretching and strengthening, but I could tell the muscle was about to yell uncle. I also developed achilles tendonitis. Luckily I was able to continue running, and did a regimen of reverse calf drops to strengthen the muscles and tendons, and the injury rehabbed. But about a month before the marathon, I developed a nagging calf injury in my left leg. I had been seeing a chiropractor throughout my training, and he recommended I see a physical therapist. He sent me to the fabulous Heather Burke (https://positiveoutcomept.com/), who definitely helped a lot and worked wonders on the injury. However, two weeks before the marathon, she recommended I stop running and rest the muscle. According to Heather, I’d put in all the miles for the last 18 weeks, and during my two week taper period, if I just rested I would still be able to run the 26.2 miles. So I rested. It was torture. I walked, and I swam. Heather also told me she felt I had been running too much during my training - I was running five days a week, which was too much for a beginner like myself. Before I started training for the marathon, I had always cross trained a great deal, but once I started logging so many miles, my cross training fell off, and my body actually felt weaker in some ways than before. I knew Heather was right - damned hind sight being 20/20 and all…

Finally race day arrived. I was very nervous, but tried to stay positive. Based on my most recent runs, I hoped that if I could just get through the first 3-5 miles and my calf warmed up, I would then be able to hit my stride and finish the race.

By a quarter mile in, I was in real pain. I remember thinking, it’s only been a few minutes and I’m already going to have to quit! But I stopped and stretched, ran a little, stopped and stretched. It was a smart strategy, but I beat myself up about it every time I stopped, and worried about all the runners passing me. By half a mile, I couldn’t bend my left leg and was starting to semi-drag it along beside me as I ran. I remember the sound of my foot smacking the pavement in an odd rhythmic way. I couldn’t pick it up in my usual way and set it back down, so it just kind of smacked along. I kept going, hanging on to the hope that it would warm up and I’d be ok. And then, it did warm up, and it did start to feel ok. At about six miles, I started to feel great. I felt so grateful, and just happy to be running. I ran down the Vermont highway, all the way down and then back again, and then back into downtown Burlington. At eight miles I saw my family - my husband, little girl, son, and my sister Kimberley and her fiancé Mike. They were all so happy and cheering, and so was I!

The best part of the worst race - mile 8 in downtown Burlington, when I saw my family for the first time.

My app updated me regularly of my predicted finish time. I was very pleased to hear I was on pace for a four hour finish. I was feeling good, and really enjoying myself. But one thing I learned about marathons, is that it’s a journey. You can experience the highest of highs, and the lowest and lows. At 13.1 miles, the halfway mark, some of the runners veered to the left to pass the baton to their team mates, as Vermont City was also a relay race. I, however, had to veer right to do the whole damned thing over again. It was a significant hit to my psyche. 

I knew that mile 15 was a massive hill. The stuff of legend. A mile long uphill through downtown Burlington. Instead of using the beating drums and the roaring crowds to power my mind though the challenge, I let that hill beat me. I fixated on the physical aspect of it, instead of realizing it was a mental challenge. And by doing that, my mind was defeated. All I thought about was the runners passing me on that hill. Once I finished the physical torment of climbing it, I felt completely defeated. At that point, my race was done. If I wasn’t so terribly stubborn, I would have given up then. I remember turning left and into the neighborhoods of Burlington, and just feeling angry to still be running. Now, in hindsight, I know that it was all in my head. I really was more than capable of finishing the race. But instead of trying to think positively, I allowed myself to be drawn down into that dark place you can find yourself in on a long run. My pace began to get slower and slower, my predicted finish time stretching further and further away. 

After the neighborhoods, we hit the 20 mile mark on a bike trail through the woods outside Burlington, along Lake Champlain. It was beautiful. I remember seeing a labrador playing in the lake with its owner watching, and I was so mad at that dog. And I LOVE dogs. I was mad at everybody. It was bad. That bike path lasted for 6 miles. 6 miles of black pavement with a yellow line in the middle. Easily the longest six miles of my freaking life. I remember hitting 26 miles and feeling like the prospect of running another .2 was absolutely IMPOSSIBLE. I saw my family at the finish, as if I was looking into a foggy mirror. Afterwards, Kimberley told me my eyes looked relieved, yet haunted. I did feel like I was in a hell. But now I know that it was a hell of my own mind’s making.

I crossed the finish line at 5:11, and someone gave me one of those cool silver capes. That made me feel a little better. Then there were a few women handing out medals. The first one said something to me. I could just see her mouth moving but couldn’t understand her. She repeated herself, and I heard “Are you whole?” I was confused, but looked down at my body, and was relieved to see I was. I said to her, “um, yeah.”  After the fact, I realized she had said “The whole?” as in the whole marathon as opposed to the half. At least I got the right damned medal… 

For days afterwards I was so sore and tired that all I could think about was recovering. Many people said to me, “well that’s a bucket list item you can check off.” But even then, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t feel that it was one and done for me. I think I knew I could do better, and I wanted the chance. Afterwards, I realized that I had overtrained. I spent too much time running and not enough time cross training. And, I had let my negative thoughts, my self consciousness, and my anxiety conquer me. I knew what I need to do. What the real bucket list item was. I needed to do better, and I needed to do it in Boston. 

The Great Vegetarian Experiment

This season I’ve fallen (pun intended) in with this fantastic group of trail runners near me, and I’m having a great time running with them once a week in the Lynn Woods. The group does a bunch of fun trail races in the area. I feel so fortunate to have so many fun trails to race on in New England!

 

The crew after our most recent run in the woods - 14 miles and then a fire pit and birthday cake!
Photo cred Allison Cunningham.

Through the group, I heard about the “GAC Fat Ass 50K” race January 5 on the trails of Bradley Palmer. It’s one 10K loop runners can complete anywhere from one to five times. So that means, on the spot you can decide if you want to run anywhere from a 10K to a 50K. Dammit. I was hooked. First of all, Bradley Palmer is a gorgeous spot, and it’s just a quick 30 minute drive from my house. Also, January 5 is my 11th wedding anniversary, and my husband’s number one favorite part of being married to me is waiting at finish lines for me! He’s super happy my number one hobby involves him waiting for hours in the rain and snow!

Engagement photo from 11 years ago - Kevin was also super psyched to pose for this pic with my pet cat. 

So I’ve been considering a training plan because this race is only six weeks away. That’s not good. Don’t misunderstand me – I don’t plan to actually run 31 miles. Although I’d like to try for a 50K at some point, it’s not likely I could train for and successfully run 31 miles in this time period. My goal for the Boston Marathon is to toe the start line uninjured, so I’m not going to push myself to run 31 miles without adequate training. But I would like to complete two or three loops, which would be 12.4 to 18.6 miles. I’ve been reading the book Eat and Run by Scott Jurek. It’s a really incredible story about Jurek’s journey to become one of the world’s greatest ultra runners. Jurek is an evangelist for the benefits of a plant-based diet for distance athletes. I have been thinking about going at least partially vegetarian for a while but thought it would destroy my marriage so decided against it. My husband is quite the carnivore…he loves to cook and creates very adventurous and beautiful dishes, usually featuring meat. He roasts a whole pig several times a year in our backyard. His most prized possession is his Big Green Egg grill - and suffice it to say his focus for his smoker/grill is not vegetarian platters.

Nevertheless, I decided this six-week period would be a great time to try out vegetarianism (makes sense, right), to test if it really does improve my performance as an athlete. As I’m writing this, I’m one week into my plant-based diet. I am already dairy free, because of my intolerance to the dairy protein, but I have been eating eggs, because full on vegan would be too much too soon.

I’ve also decided to give up alcohol for the six weeks. I’ve never been a heavy drinker, but I have 3-4 glasses of wine per week, spread over a few days. It’s been a week, and so far I’m feeling really good! I had been doing weight watchers and had lost 10 pounds. I always weigh in on Fridays - the last time I weighed in was two weeks ago. Last week I didn’t weigh myself because I was travelling for Thanksgiving. Over the last week of vegetarianism and no alcohol, I haven’t counted points. Although WW is a wonderful program, I’m finding it’s difficult for me to survive on the points they allot me given my intense training routine. I wanted to see if this lifestyle shift towards a plant-based diet would allow me to maintain my ideal weight while not starving myself. Well, as of yesterday I had lost two pounds, even though I ate kind of crazy over Thanksgiving! I am very excited. My running is feeling good, and I’m excited to see how things progress. My husband, however, definitely does not feel so good about it. To put it plainly, my little carnivore is pretty crabby. I’m not sure what he’s more upset - that I won’t be eating meat or that I won’t be drinking wine.

To try to make up for it, I have also reserved us a room in a B&B in Ipswich, near the race. I thought after I run the trails and Kevin waits in the cold, it would be fun to have a fun night out and stay away from the kids. It’s our anniversary after all! And the room has a clawed foot bath tub, so - win. It’s only fitting that we should spend our anniversary at a race - I think that my journey as a runner is a perfect analogy for the difficulties of marriage. When Kevin and I got married, I was 24 and he 27, and I had never run 1/4 a mile in my life. I used to say I hated running, and that I could never even run in a 5K race because my shin splints wouldn’t allow it. Now I’m obsessed and plotting to train to run distances that most people wouldn’t even want to read about. We are both simply completely different people than when we were first married. But, we still laugh a lot, we still have fun, and we still know how to party. We’ve both grown and changed a lot in the last 11 years, but we’re going on this journey together. It certainly has not always been easy and sometimes has taken a lot of determination and work. But the rewards are worth it. Just like running.

Also please send whiskey to my husband for the six hour wait in the cold and rain…

Baby It's Cold Outside: Running in Winter Weather

Just a girl and her cleats on an icy day.

When I tell people I’m training for the Boston marathon, a common comment has been, “oh no, you’re going to have to train during the winter in New England.” Yes, this is true. But, I did train for the Vermont City Marathon last winter, and I found I actually prefer running in the cold compared to the humid heat of a New England summer. Although I run all summer too, I’m just not a hot weather runner – my performance is much better in the cold.

That being said, there is one thing that’s an added challenge in the winter: it just takes more gear. Luckily for me, I love running gear. Purchasing extra gear for winter running was actually pretty fun for me. Maybe not as fun for my bank account, but luckily it doesn’t have as many feelings as I do. 😊 I have created the below outline for how I gear up for winter weather. I thought this might be helpful for those of you taking the plunge into winter running. I have linked the typical products I wear on the run, just as examples. I've also included lots of pictures from my Instagram of me on cold runs because, apparently I take a lot of running selfies...#sorrynotsorry.

The general rule of thumb is that you should dress as if it was 15 to 20 degrees warmer than it actually is. You should feel a little chilly before you start running. You can’t go out for a winter run feeling all cozy and bundled up, because you’ll quickly overheat and that could be dangerous. If you’re a person who doesn’t get very hot and sweaty while running, you may want to dress a little warmer. If you’re like my husband and you’re basically a bear-man who shovels snow in shorts, you don’t need to wear as much. But keep in mind, how much a person heats up while exercising isn’t always dependent upon body type. I’m one of those people who is constantly freezing in the winter. I’m small, and honestly don’t have a lot of body fat. I wear a lot of clothes and am generally pretty miserable in the winter. But once I start running, I get really warm really fast. I tend to underdress when I run, so that I don’t I end up really uncomfortable. I also dress in layers and buy gear that can easily be carried once removed.

As I said, I’ve linked some of my favorite products below. Note that these are my unbiased opinions. I haven’t been paid by any of these brands. In general, my favorite brands for cold weather are Lululemon (my favorite brand for all running), Athleta, Nike, and Icebreaker.

40-50 degrees Fahrenheit: This is my favorite running weather. For this type of weather I typically wear capri running pants, or light long pants, a sleeveless running tank, covered with a light longsleeved tech top. I may wear my gloves, which convert to warmer mittens if I need them. I often take them off after a few miles and attach to my hydration pack. I will sometimes wear an ear warmer depending on the wind chill.

Out for a quick 10K in November 2017

32-40 degrees Fahrenheit: In all temperature zones, but particularly 40 degrees and lower, it’s important to consider wind chill rates and any precipitation. In general, in this weather I wear long pants, a sleeveless running tank, and either two long sleeved tech tops, or this long sleeved cold weather tech top. I’ll always wear my gloves, and my favorite cold weather hat.

A little snow ain't no thang - December 2017.

Neither is a lot of snow - February 2018.

20-32 degrees Fahrenheit: Brrrr…it’s officially cold out there. If it’s closer to 20 degrees, I bring out my fleece lined pants. I only use these in really cold temperatures, because they’re too warm otherwise. I highly recommend these from Athleta. On my top half, I wear a sleeveless tank, a long sleeved tech top, and my Nike long sleeved cold weather top. I also depend on my Nike Aeroloft Flash Running Vest. This product is truly amazing and I can’t recommend it enough. I have no idea how something so thin and light can keep me so warm. It also packs up into a small pocket that becomes a wristlet if you want to take it off mid-run. It's also reflective which is useful in the often dark winter months. I always wear my gloves and Icebreaker hat. I may also add an ear warmer. If it’s closer to 20 degrees, or if the wind chill is significant, I’ll wear my Icebreaker Flexi Chute with my hat. This keeps my face and neck warm. The fabric does get damp with my breath, which then typically freezes over and I turn into Jon Snow north of the wall. But there are worse things I suppose…

I was in Denver this past weekend and went out for an early morning run in 25 degree weather, and it didn’t feel nearly as cold as similar temps in Boston. As there was no moisture in the air, it was more comfortable. It was also very nice that although the temperature was below freezing, there was no ice on the roads!

Geared up and ready to go last weekend in Denver. 25 degrees - picture taken before putting on my gloves. 

Below 20 degrees Fahrenheit: Really cold out there. I will wear all of the things above, and I may layer another long sleeved tech shirt. For temperatures below freezing, I may also wear my rubber running cleats to stay safe on ice. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of long runs in temperatures below freezing is preventing my water supply from freezing. I always carry water when I run, and for long runs I sometimes even hide water along my route to replenish my stores. In very cold temperatures last winter, the bottles in my hydration belt froze shut, and I returned home from my 15 mile run very dehydrated. The best option is to plan to stop at a store to purchase water, or a friend’s house. This winter I’m glad to have the option for long runs with my charity team, with staffed water stations. Problem solved.

Pretty much as serious as it gets - 10 degrees in downtown Boston January 2018.

That day my water bottle froze...my face tells it all.

I hope this is helpful. In general I encourage you to not be afraid to get out there and run in the cold weather – you’ll likely be surprised by how much you like it! Remember that the hardest part is getting out there and getting started!

Comment below about your favorite winter running gear!

Sorry I couldn't resist...