Category: running

On December 1st, Louie and I synchronized our watches. We had a phone date at 8:55 a.m., five minutes before registration opened for the Bayshore Marathon in Traverse City.

Our friends Jason and Robyn had run this race before and sang the praises of the course. Flat and fast, and all along the lake front. Their praise came with a warning. Part of the awesomeness of the race is it’s not too big or too crowded. You have to register quickly, or they might sell out. They’d book up in the first day, for sure.

Their website confirmed the situation. Registration would open at 9 a.m. on the dot. Spots in the race were first come, first serve. Each person may only register one runner.

That Tuesday morning, we dialed in as planned. With each other on the line, we logged in to the registration site. The registration page had a giant timer, ticking down the minutes and second. As we tick-tocked closer to the opening, I got nervous. What if he gets in and I don’t? Or vice versa?

I felt like Ralphie decoding his Little Orphan Annie message, as we entered our credit card information and updated our process along the way. And then, sweet confirmation. We both got in! Our first race of the year, booked.

Later I found out the big rush is for the half marathon, and we’re doing the full. But it was sort of fun to have the rush of registering under that pretext.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox

Prompt: “Tickets, Tickets! What (or who) did you shell out or stand-in-line for this year? Was it worth it? What made you wait in line, log-on early, or form a lifetime attachment?”

Running has done a funny thing to how I approach goals. Meeting them is nice… but surpassing them is even better. At the beginning of the year, I set two goals: 1,000 miles and two marathons.

In 2014, I ran about 700 miles – so 1,000 seemed like a good challenge. A stretch, but very doable. I generally aim for about 100 miles per month, with some lighter recovery months just after running a race. I can’t remember when I passed the goal, exactly, but it never occurred to me to stop. I just kept going. There were two months where I surpassed 150 miles. I logged the most miles I’ve ever run in a month in August at 156.61. My tally for the year: 1,311 miles.

Back to December 30th, 2014, when I was in the middle of my running planning. I wrote in my 5-year memory book: Thinking I might want to be a 50-stater.

Thinking. Ha. As soon as I learned about the 50 States Marathon Club I knew I’d be going for it. By chance, my first two marathons were in different states. That left me with 48 more to go. I figured if I wanted to finish this thing by the time I’m in my sixties, I’d need to run two marathons per year.

Finished! Brüski is not overly impressed. #nooga #7bridgesmarathon

A photo posted by Sara McGuyer (@sara_mc) on Oct 18, 2015 at 9:34am PDT

I picked my spring race, The Eugene Marathon in Oregon, to coincide with vacation and visiting friends out west. In the fall, I ran the 7 Bridges in Chattanooga. By October, I could have called my running goals done for the year. Then I heard about The Runner’s World Run Streak.

The most consecutive days I’d ever run was eight. The #RWRunStreak challenges you to run at least a mile a day from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. 37 straight days.

I liked this for a couple of reasons. I’d blown through my goals and felt sort of like a drifter without them. The streak would keep me motivated as the weather shifted colder. And I’d never really worked on pace before, always distance. I decided I’d go for the streak, and see if I could run an 8:30 mile while I was at it.

I am not a fast runner. My average pace on the year, including the good, the bad and the ugly, was 11:14 minutes per mile. Some days of this streak I’d get going and know right off the bat I didn’t have 8:30 in me. Other days I’d feel strong and fast, like I had a chance, and run my heart out until I felt it pounding outside of my chest. Then I’d still register something in the 8:40-:50 range.

On the second to last day of the challenge, I really went for it. As I finished I thought, I hope I made it. This is the best I can do. I looked at my watch, devastated. I’d run 8:34. I’d had to stop at an intersection for a car, and I kept thinking, What if? What if? What if? That left me with one more day to meet my goal.

For whatever reason my New Year’s Day run felt lighter and easier. There was pounding in my chest, and heaving lungs, of course, but not quite as desperate. I ran an 8:25. Made it, just in the nick of time.

I am ready to get back to more distance again, though I think I’ll keep a fast one-miler in my regular rotation. For 2016 goals, I set the bar at 1,500 miles – meaning my 100 mile months won’t cut it. I’ve already registered for my first race of 2016 – the Bayshore Marathon in Traverse City, Michigan, and I’ll plan to choose another for the fall.

1 mile down, 1,499 to go.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Prompt: Your 2015, Reviewed. Give us the 30,000 foot view. Or, hone in on a few highlights. Let’s bring last year to life before moving on to what’s ahead.

Some of my favorites scenes from 2014 came when I laced up and hit the trail. My top running snapshots from the year:

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Prompt: “Goin’ Places. What place stood out for you this year? Outdoors or indoors; a huge gathering or a tête-à-tête? Where were you? Who were you with? What feeling did you have when leaving? Were you inspired? Refreshed? Or…confused and glad to be gone? Whether it was exciting…or awkward: give us a hall pass out of our own room for a few minutes.”

The polar vortex really got in the way of my marathon training this winter. The skipped training runs mounted. I failed at my first attempt at twenty miles, then my second. I’d managed a grueling 18.9-miler, but I knew it in my heart. I wouldn’t have been prepared for a flat marathon, much less the Flying Pig in Cincinnati with its steep and plentiful hills. I wasn’t ready.

In the days before the race, I waffled back and forth. I’d think, Maybe I should just try, one minute. No way in hell, the next. Some of my runner friends said a lot of people only train up to 18 miles, so I was basically already there. A very stubborn part of me just couldn’t let go – I don’t like giving in once I’ve set a goal.

The deciding factor came as a surprise. Louie offered to run with me. We don’t run together much. His pace when he’s pushing hard is a good three minutes faster per mile. I never expected him to throw a marathon to take it at my pace.

While I had resolved to attempt the whole thing, I also knew there’d be a fork in the road. The turn off where the half-marathoners go one way, and the full folks go another. I’d have this one out, if I felt like I needed it.

On race day, when we hit that point in the course, I was still feeling good. I made eye contact with a spectator, a woman who was cheering her heart out, encouraging me, this random stranger. As I took the path toward the full marathon, I welled up with emotion, feeling proud that I hadn’t taken the easy way.

Then there was a brutal series of hills. Somewhere around mile 16, a steep hill completely shredded my legs. The reality of ten more miles to go punched me in the gut. My pace started dropping off. Louie moved into cheerleader mode, trying to keep me moving and motivated.

I was slow and achy between 16 and 22 miles, and stopped at every chance for water or Gatorade. The next four miles were a bit of a blur. I noticed my eyes felt heavy, the lids near closed. As I shuffled along (because you can’t really call what I was doing running by that point), I was biting at a fingernail. I remember thinking:

Is my mind drifting? Am I losing it a little bit? Why am I biting my nails now, of all times?

I don’t think I was really losing it, but I do think my body was in the early phase of shutting down.

As we got closer to the end, Louie grabbed my hand, squeezed it. It woke me up a bit. He said the finish line was near. I argued with him, No, I don’t see it! During that last leg of the race, he didn’t let go of my hand while we sort-of ran. I remember hearing a woman say, They’re holding hands. I love it.

Crossing the finish line is always emotional, but this time it felt bigger. I felt carried, not by my own two feet, but by Louie’s energy and love. His hand holding mine lifted me up. I know this is why I was able to finish.

After the race, we had a mile walk back to the car. I felt good. I can’t explain how I went from on the brink, to being okay, just like that. I had to fly to California for business the next day. Despite a car trip back to Indy, a very early flight, all of the travel – I was fine. My muscles weren’t even the slightest bit sore.

This post is part of Think Kit by SmallBox
Prompt: “+ / – Have no fear – no numbers needed here. Who (or what) made a difference for you this year? Were they cognizant of their effect? Did it add to your life…or detract? Was it a momentary encounter? A year-long helping hand? Someone who took a chance on you, or vice versa? What would’ve changed if you’d had to go without, or go it alone? Imagine the alternative scenario.”