Fly Like a Butterfly

Tomorrow, I board a plane to the Big Apple. Timmy and MK are riding with me to the airport to make certain I don't try to play beat the clock with American Airlines. This is good news as I try to push my arrival to the last possible minute before I miss my flight. It's a little game I've been playing with DFW for years.

Tomorrow night, I'll be with a lot of important people in my life eating at Joe Allen in Midtown. Tomorrow night? Is that possible? The last six months of my life. All those mornings. All those miles. It all comes down to this.

I want to thank all of you for being with me on this journey. Each time you listened to my running stories, understood when I ditched early on Friday nights, asked about my training, contributed to my fundraising ... each and every thing you've done for me ... well, I've noticed. I always say I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have the friends that I do. That's the absolute truth. Thank you. Each one of you. I mean it. Thank. You.

I've run over 850 miles since May. What's another 26.2?

I Love A Rainy Night

There was a huge difference between what I wanted to do after work today and what I had to do. I wanted to drink a beer on my couch, eat to-go sushi, and watch tv, but --- as I tell my 5 year old niece, "you don't always get to do what you want to do."

For those of you not in Dallas, it was chilly and rainy all day. Perfect sitting on your couch weather. Not perfect running-after-a-long-day-of-work weather. I called Timmy for an excused absence, but no such luck. His pep talk was solid, but it didn't make me any happier about him being right.

The trick is to not give your brain time to talk you out of it. That might be the secret to most things in my life, actually. I grabbed my old running shoes, put up the hood of my rain jacket, and headed out the door. Once you get over the initial thought --- "It is cold and wet outside. You are about to be cold and wet" --- it isn't so bad. I've been colder (SXSW 10). I've been soaking wet in the rain before (see 20 mile run this summer). Do I want to do it again? Not really. Did I survive? And then some. I don't know when I became the sporty girl who goes on her runs even on a cold, dark, rainy evening, but I like it.

Getting My Digits

What a gorgeous day for a final "long" run before the marathon! 9 miles like it ain't no thing. I rocked my compression socks and sleeves. The Starbucks crew asked me why I was sporting Britney workout attire. I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult.

The packing list for the marathon makes me crazy. For those that don't know me (why would you be reading this?), I'm a planner. I've already started laying out my clothes, goos, socks, and extra shoes for the trip next Friday. I'll obsess about the little things I could forget until I get on the plane. Tomorrow, I'll go pick up my throw away clothes for the chilly wait on Staten Island before the race.

For those of you that have asked, my bib number is 51807. I'm in orange - wave 3 and my start time is 10:40. The athlete tracker system is different this year and they are charging to get text/email alerts. You can sign in the day of the race for free and track whether I survive this thing. I'll trust that if you're my friend, you're clever enough to follow the directions on the website below.

http://www.ingnycmarathon.org/athlete_alert.htm

7 more days, Team KC. S-E-V-E-N.

On the Road Again

"Pssssssssssssssssttt --- over here" is what I heard when I got to the lake on Saturday. Maggie and the rest of the ATP group were huddled up with hushed voices. When they pulled me over, I was hoping that I was about to be given the secrets of uber fast running ("we've been driving half the course for MONTHS without telling you and *that's* why we finish half an hour ahead of you). Instead, I was informed that we were supposed to run a different 12 mile course than normal because it was flatter and meant we didn't have to take the dreaded Sperry Loop on our last route off the lake. I have no idea why that merited a whisper, but everyone seemed very excited about the secret. The thing is, I just couldn't do it. I didn't want the Sperry Loop to think it had gotten the best of me. I've solved the world's problems many times over on those streets this summer. So, while everyone else did a turn-around across Abrams, I did Sperry, Santa Barbara, Fisher and the ridiculous hill at West Bay for the last time this season. A rule follower to the end.

12 miles. Cake.

I appreciate that the ATP group let me tag along this season. This picture is sweet Maggie pretending to be mean. I have not done her justice on this blog. She's actually the most supportive coach ever and truly a medical miracle with her speed and positive energy. I am thankful that she's been such a good sport about all my sarcastic comments. Don't get me wrong, she still scares the hell out of me --- but ... I mean that in the nicest way.

The Long Way Home

Goodbye, Swiss Avenue. I won't see you again this season and please know that I won't miss you. Today was my last long run before NY. 23 miles. 23 miles is a long, long way. I was really nervous last night. I don't care how long you've been running --- 23 miles is not afraid to kick your butt.

You would think that you would feel invincible after conquering 23 miles. Instead, I cringed as I faced another fear --- my first ice bath. I've heard all the claims about how an ice bath speeds recovery, but those 15 minutes in freezing water seemed almost as daunting as the 4+ hours I had spent running this morning.

There's a specific way to take an ice bath. Put warm layers on top, grab a Starbucks and sit in the tub while you fill it up to your hips with ice cold water. Then, take a deep breath and dump in ice bag #1. Reassure your dog that despite your whimpers, you are not dying. About 5 minutes later, dump in ice bag #2. Sit in the tub for a total of about 15 minutes.

How was it? About as bad as it sounds, but it really did help. Afterwards, I took Parker to the dog park, showered, put on my compression socks and took a ridiculous nap. Not bad for a list of Saturday accomplishments.

Boo

My name is Kristi Covey and I have an irrational fear of Halloween decorations.

As I mentioned before, I run down University during the week. Last year, during October, one of the houses on the street scattered glow-in-the-dark bones in their yard. It is dark in the mornings when I run this time of year. I wish I was joking when I told you that more than once I picked up my pace to make sure the bones didn't ... I don't know ... get me, I guess.

This year, bones weren't enough. It seems that everyone on the street has gotten into the holiday spirit. University is now a series of dodging witches, ghosts, and at least one grim reaper driving a demon pumpkin carriage. The scariest by far is a house that has filled the trees with spiders of all sizes and hung a mummy-person upside down over the sidewalk to look like the spiders have captured a human. The mummy-person sways ever so slightly in the wind. I swear I saw it twitch one morning.

Oh, sure ---- you say to me ---- those are just "pretend" and they can't really hurt me. That's what you say, but you're not running by them every day. You can't see their shifty little eyes "watching" me. Mark my words --- those spiders are up to something.

Devil in the Details

Reading comprehension is usually an easy A for me, but I obviously didn't give the schedule for last week more than a quick once over. I spent Friday night printing off my map, packing my goo, charging my watch, downloading new music, laying out my clothes and making sure I got to bed early. Saturday morning, I showed up at the lake ready for 23 miles. I was literally 2 minutes from our start time when I realized through a short conversation with the ATP folks that the NYC group was only scheduled to run 12 miles that day. I had mistakenly read the mileage for the Marine Corp marathon. The upside? Easiest 12 miles ever. The downside? I still have a 23 mile run ahead of me. Oh well, as Michelle pointed out, this was an awesome surprise --- if there can be such a thing as an awesome surprise at 5 a.m.

So, this week, I'm gearing up again. I'm running 23 miles this Saturday. No --- for real. Last long run before the marathon. Come on taper!

The Underdog

Look at this face. How are you going to tell this poor girl that she has to run 5 more miles? That's the dilemma that I will be faced with tomorrow morning.

MK took this picture of me when I had the terrible 20 mile run (see previous entry). This picture is at mile 18. See that look on my face? That's the look of the miles beating you into submission. It's the look that screams "dead (wo)man walking". I hope the version of me running 23 miles in the morning has a little more pep in her step.

The marathon is officially less than a month away. Currently, fear of marathon > excitement for marathon.

BOOMER!

Today is one of my favorite days of the year --- OU/TX. I lucked out because I only had to run 10 miles this morning and kick off wasn't until 2:30. The weather was perfect and our seats were on the 40 yard line. I couldn't have asked for a better day. Are my feet killing me? Yes. Was it worth it to go watch the Sooners kick a little Texas butt? Absolutely.

Sooner win + Fletchers corny dog + Beer = Bliss.

Next week is 23. Oh, and now that Maggie will be finished with *her* marathon, she's starting a phase with the rest of us called Explosive Strength Training. Terrified doesn't cover it.

Thunder Road

Last Saturday, I went to the lake despite weather reports of possible scattered showers. By "scattered showers" they meant, wear your cutest golashes because you're about to get soaked. By mile 4, we'd seen some lightning, but no rain. By the time I climbed Winstead, I was running in a downpour. Swiss Avenue was the worst. Imagine being in your shower fully dressed in your workout clothes while you attempt to run for 4 hours. At some point, I passed pretty Susan coming back from the Hall street turn around. "This is CRAZY. WE ARE CRAZY," I yelled.

I've run in the rain before, but never for four hours. I would never choose it, but I have to tell you that I felt like a total bad ass. 20 miles is pretty amazing, but 20 miles in the pouring rain is something you never forget.

Two a Day

Mile repeats are less fun than you think they would be. This morning, I managed to complete a few. After finishing the speed work, the schedule said to do a two mile cool down run, but *someone* overslept and didn't have time for everything. So, I forced myself to run twice today. I did the mile repeats in the morning and ran a few miles after work. I have had better ideas. This absolutely defeats the purpose of a cool down run. It was more like a punishment run that I gave myself for sleeping too late. Can you pick the nerdy rule follower in the crowd?

Speaking of punishment, this weekend I get another shot at 20 miles. I'm nervous. Mentally, I think I need a good long run under my belt. I'm still having flashbacks about that last attempt. I should concentrate on eating right, hydration etc... this week to see if it makes a difference. Actually, maybe I should just concentrate on getting to bed in time to run my six miles tomorrow...

Running on Empty

Part of me wants to tell you in excruciating detail about my 20.65 mile run on Saturday and part of me wants to never think of that run again. From the start, my legs were shot. Could be that I stayed up too late the night before. Could be that I didn’t eat right. Could be that I shouldn’t have run so many hills in Vail. Maybe it was the 1,000 percent humidity. On the other hand, it might just be that the running gods are plotting my ultimate demise one mile at a time. In any case, I didn’t have the mojo on Saturday. I wish I was just being my dramatic little self when I tell you that I nearly didn’t make the finish line. The last 3 or 4 miles on Saturday were sheer willpower. My legs gave up the fight long before my stubborn mind forced me to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Tim and MK met me at a few of the water stops. I announced that I might die at Mile 18. MK tried to cheer me by saying “at least if you die there will be relief from the pain you’re in right now.” I was so far gone that the statement seemed oddly comforting.

While I was stretching after the run, Maggie came over for a pep talk. I kid you not that she tried to relate to me by telling a story of how hard it was for her to run at a 6 minute mile pace on a run in Colorado. Mantra to self: Maggie is not human, Maggie is not human, Maggie is not human...

Let’s hope that this run was just a fluke because I couldn’t have run 6 more miles for all the shoes at the new HP Louboutin store (well, okay ... maybe for that ...).

I Heart Oxygen

Last week, I ran in Vail. The plus was the gorgeous scenery (and my delightful companion). The minus was the altitude. One morning, I had to run 8 miles. I have never worked so hard just to survive a run. The wind was bitter cold, I was recovering from a night at the Red Lion, and there was a severe lack of oxygen in the air. You'll be happy to know that I managed to recover in time for day drinking at lunch.

Fun development in ATP this week? Mile repeats.

Tomorrow is 20 miles. I'll be trying out my rocking new compression socks. Stand by for excitement.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

I've never been good at endings. Sometimes I let a relationship go on longer than it should. Today, I declared it over. My Mizunos and I are officially on a break. I've been wearing the same brand of shoes for years. Every few months, I buy two pairs of the same shoes (a good tip from another ex) and rotate them on my runs. I get excited when the new colors come out, but basically, the same shoes and I have been together for hundreds and hundreds of miles (including the 26.2 I ran last November in NYC).

I went by Luke's Locker this afternoon to check out a pair of compression socks, but instead, I left dating a shiny new pair of Sauconys. Duncan (head of the Luke's program) convinced me that my Mizunos and I really weren't a good fit anymore. In fact, my shoes could be the key to my heel pain. It seems that your foot changes as you become a more experienced runner. I don't need the correction that my old shoes provided. So, I'm moving on. Just like all breakups. Its bittersweet. Oh, I'll still see Mizunos around town, but it just won't be the same.

On a happy note, the weather was gorgeous for our Saturday run this week. I got to the lake thinking I had to run 20 miles, but it turns out I only had to run 18 --- which made me giddy with delight. Yes, people, I know that sentence is ridiculous.

The Hills

"These hills are where we all trained for Boston," Maggie announced. At least, I think that's what she announced. I don't claim accuracy for anything said to me between 5:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. At 4:40 this morning, I crawled out of bed for the start of hill training. I don't know how I didn't register that hill training would be very ... well ... hilly.

I had never been to Flagpole Hill until this morning and I really can't recommend it as a destination for anyone. We started our ATP workout with a little 2 mile jaunt and then did an exercise where we run up and down the same hill for 10 minutes at a time with a 3 minute break in between. Sounds easy --- and it is ---- except for the running and the hill part. I think I made it up the hill about 1/2 as many times as the "Boston" folks, but I did not die (even though I announced my impending death many times during that portion of the workout).

After this little Sisyphus exercise (yes, I just referenced Greek mythology), we ran 2 more miles and then got out our towels for core work and stretching. Everyone was laying out their mats on the concrete in the park instead of in the grass. When one ATP member put his mat on the grassy area, someone says, "Oh, don't touch the grass. This place is infested with fire ants." WTH, people. I think that about sums up the first day of hill training.

Awesome Incorporated

I know *other* people run down University to SMU, but I like to pretend that it's my own private training ground. I run a variety of the same route most weekdays and I know every curb, crack in the sidewalk, and house along the way. When I run 5 or 6 miles, I go past a strip center on Hilcrest where over-privileged teens from HP hang out on their bikes in front of Blockbuster or the hamburger joint. I ran on Sunday evening and passed just such a gang. Most of the time, the kids ignore me as I am far too old to generate any interest. This go round I got a "hey" on the way out and an "Awesome Inc." on my way back. I thought I detected the faint glimmer of a giggle from one of the girls, but I was feeling pretty good about myself. "Awesome Inc.," I thought --- those crazy kids and their wacky sayings --- "I still have it going on. I am Awesome incorporated." Then, it hit me. They weren't saying "Awesome Inc." at all. They were saying "Awesome ink". I'd been to a Jersey Shore birthday party the day before and still had a fake tattoo pasted on my thigh. Think big red heart stabbed with a dagger with "BAD" written clearly across the middle. Awesome indeed. At this rate, I'll be banned from Paper City for life.

Music Snob

Running gives me an opportunity to listen to lots and lots of music every week. When you run as slow as I do, you have hours to listen to your new favorite tunes. You'd think that would make me less picky about my running playlist, but you'd be wrong. I take special joy in coming up with the artists/tunes that will keep me company each week. I'm thrilled when a great new album comes out that I can fully digest on a my long run. I can be a tough critic. That said, my friends taught me to be the kind of music snob that doesn't mind an occasional sing-along to Party in the U.S.A.

Last year, I asked people to contribute to my marathon playlist. It was a way to take all my friends with me on my run through NYC. Some of those songs got me through the tough miles. So --- the question is --- are you up for the challenge? Can you navigate the tricky waters of good running music? Pick 5-ish songs that you'd like for me to carry with me in November and I'll load them into a playlist for the big day. I'll be tired of the new Arcade Fire cd by then, right?

Going the Distance

18 miles --- 3+ hours of running ---- all before most of my friends rolled out of bed on Saturday morning. Last week, I took a few days off for Lolla in Chicago. I was afraid that all that music fun would catch up with me when I tried to go past mile 14, but ... between you and me, I kicked butt. 18 miles is my longest run of the summer so far. I haven't gone that distance since the marathon last November. 22 miles will be our longest run before the big day, but 18 is no joke.

When I have a long run, I prepare everything the night before. I load my Spi belt with goos, a few dollars, my extra car key, and course directions in a Ziploc bag (because otherwise nasty sweat will destroy the paper). I lay out my shoes, my watch, my headphones and my clothes. I pack a bag with flip flops, dry clothes for after the run, and towels for stretching. It takes a lot of time to get ready to abuse yourself with a pre-dawn multi-hour run. My super group and the Luke's folks do a lot of prep too. There are water stops, stashed frozen towels, Gatorade, popsicles, frozen grapes, and chalkers (who "chalk" the sperry loop portion of the course).

I can't imagine what drives us all to do this when we could be sleeping in our comfy beds, but I love the ritual of Saturdays. I love the miles alone to think, the tradition of a post-run breakfast with good friends, and the reward of a Saturday nap with a little brown puppy snoring on the floor by the couch.

Ice Queen

"Did you put some ice in your bra?," Maggie asked at the water stop for Mile 10. I'm sorry, but could you repeat that? Maggie and her very fit running buddy explained that at the last ice chest/ATP water stop, they had taken some of the ice out of the chest and put it in their bra. "I took three. Would you like a piece?" Maggie asked (reaching into her sports bra). The fact that I considered it for a minute is a testament to the blazing Texas heat. I won't embarrass the tall, pretty blonde that took her up on the offer because when you're running, the normal rules just don't apply.

Today, I made my way through sixteen miles, but it was rough, people. I guess that's why not many people make running sixteen miles part of their to do list on a Saturday morning.

Timmy is on the injured list for a few days and I'm sending out lots of positive energy to him. I'd run another sixteen miles if it meant that his hip would heal any faster. Good thoughts, Timmy. Good thoughts.

The Meaning of Words

Bound - verb: to move by leaps; leap; jump; spring.

I can't even remember the last time I used that word in a sentence, but the verb tense came rushing back as Maggie taught us new series of exercises at the lake this week. It seems like a bad dream. I just remember Maggie yelling, "Bound!" and everyone leaping across the grass before sunrise. For the record, I am anti-jumping in almost all instances. Maybe it is a height thing.

Speaking of definitions, the meaning of the word "sixteen" is going to be abundantly clear tomorrow morning at 5:00 a.m. SIXTEEN. Yeah, you read that right. For those counting at home, that's six more miles than I ran last week. How is that possible? I have no idea. If I survive the run and the ridiculously long nap I plan to take in the pool afterwards, I'll let you know.

Swoon

Anyone remember Raiders of the Lost Ark? In the beginning of the movie, Indiana Jones is teaching class and one of his students has "love" written on one eyelid and "you" written on the other. I wish I'd thought of that before seeing dreamy Dr. Royer today. Did I say I didn't like drs? Blush. Giggle.

McDreamy gave me the all clear to run with a few helpful tips to keep any additional problems away. He said to make an appointment in 6 weeks just to check in and that I could cancel it if I wasn't in pain. Is he kidding? I'm getting my hair blown out for my next visit.

Infinite Loop

It looks peaceful, doesn't it? Do not be fooled. This is a place where very bad things happen. Today was our last track workout for a bit. We did runs of 1200m (in addition to our boot camp) which is approximately 1200m more than I was interested in doing. I want to understand the appeal of running around in this boring circle, but I just don't.

Next week, we're moving back to the lake for what Maggie calls *special* strength training. Please meditate on the following sentence from her email today --- "These exercises are mostly carried out while you are standing on just one foot with both feet on the ground." Whatever the hell that sentence is supposed to mean is not going to be pleasant. What do you bet that I'll be begging for the days of infinite loops at German Park by the time I figure out the one foot/both foot torture in my near future?

Don't Call it a Comeback

Dear 12 miles --- Ahem ... remember me? I admit that you beat me fair and square a few weeks ago, but I'm back, baby. That's why I kicked your butt on Saturday and why I plan to do it again in the very near future. No hard feelings.

Saturday was good. I ran most of the way with a girl named Susan who is nearly twice my height. Every time she took a step, I had to take 6. Another advantage to the tall people of the world. Annoying.

Our group was split this week. The folks doing early fall marathons ran 15 miles. The rest of us ran 12. Susan and I were rounding the corner on mile 10 or so when Maggie comes coasting up next to me. She ran an additional 3 miles and still caught up with me barely breaking a sweat. That woman can't be human.

As a special treat, after our run, I had breakfast with MK at the Taco Joint. Tacos = delicious. MK = delightful, as always.

Life Could Be Better

After my track workout last week (see previous post), I had some serious pain in my heel. The painful area was tiny, but it felt like someone was shoving a sharp knife into my right foot every time I took a step. Remember that story of the princess and the pea? In fairness to my heel, it had been hurting a little for a week or so (I know, Lauren Sager, I know).

Some of my friends are hypochondriacs, I'm just the opposite. I usually think these things will just work themselves out, but a few hours after our workout, the pain was so bad that I had to break down and go to the foot doctor. I hate doctors --- especially foot doctors. Podiatrist are alarmist. They always go through some long list of problems that Americans are going to face if they don't start taking care of their feet (yawn) ----- with a special rant for girls that wear flip flops.

This particular doctor and I got off on the wrong foot (ha) when she asked if I was there to take care of the two toenails that have turned black and separated from the nail bed. Don't be silly, those toenails will fall right off on their own. Or maybe I wanted to discuss the callouses on my poor little feet. No, doc, I was only there to fix my gimpy heel. We did x-rays, stride tests and worked on different cushioning options. Just when she had me down for the count, she had to pop in with the "no running for a few days" news. I was in tears. So, last week for 4 days I was sentenced to do nothing.

Sure, this sounds like good news, but I was spiraling about it. I couldn't run and the rest of my group was training. This is my worst case scenario. I iced my foot, I wore proper shoes (even to a concert when my very cute shoes were begging to go) and I took care of myself for the rest of the week. Saturday, I ran half the distance that my group was running. This week I am back to the schedule and I am hoping it stays that way.

I took this picture in Jordan with my Aussie friends. The pharmacy's slogan is "Life Could Be Better". That's how I felt last week --- life could be a whole lot better. On a happy note, I just *had* to buy a few new pairs of indie girl tennis shoes.

One Track Mind

Just when I thought 400m was my Lex Luther, Maggie brought a new list of track treats. Friends, meet the white board. You might think it looks short and easy. I dare you to start with a 2 mile warm up, complete the exercises on the board (twice each for items 2 - 11), cool down for 2 miles, core work, stretch and then not want to sleep for the next 10 hours.

As we were running our 2 mile cool down, I was complaining (imagine) about the difficulty and the girl next to me actually laughed and said, "oh, just wait until we do 1 mile repeats." Um.... excuse me?

Flying Solo

I finally met a tougher trainer than Maggie. She's short, blonde and shows no mercy. Her name is KC.

Yesterday, I had to miss the group meeting in the morning, but I didn't want to sacrifice the training. So, I did a solo boot camp at the track last night. The only thing more ridiculous than getting up at 4:40 to do a running/ATP boot camp with a group of obsessive athletes is forcing yourself to do the same workout on your own. I must have looked ridiculous doing track work and cherry pickers all by myself.

Running is basically a solo sport and I had forgotten how much I enjoy the solitude. Last year, my group only met once a week and most of the miles I logged were on my own. This year, ATP meets 3 times a week and there is a lot more time working out with a group of 50. Group running is a different dynamic and serves a different purpose than running on your own. I like both types of running for different reasons.

Still, as I proved last night, I'm tougher on myself than anyone else could ever be. When you're out there on your own, there are no excuses, no shortcuts and no one to blame. As I've said before, its you vs. you and that drives me more than anything. At one point, I actually caught myself grinning during my 400m sprint. Move over, Maggie, there's a new sheriff in town.

Phase 2 ?

It seems that congratulations are in order. Maggie sent us an email last Friday saying that we've successfully completed Phase 1 of ATP. Phase 2 began this morning at a track a few blocks from my house. A track looks easy (albeit boring) enough to the naked eye. How much evil could really lurk in 400m? Today, I learned that in the seventh circle of hell there is a track waiting for a group of very unfortunate sinners.

We started the morning off with a new addition --- the two mile warm up. It seems that one mile just isn't enough warming up for this phase and as an added bonus, we get two miles to cool down. In between that little sandwich of good times were endless push-ups, sit-ups, lunges and cherry pickers. The theory is that these strength exercises will improve our stamina/strength and that the running intervals will increase our speed.

So far, I'm not faster or stronger. I don't think I said a word during the entire workout this morning --- which, as most of you know, is a rare occasion. I should have taken up bowling.

Panic Monday

Panic. That's exactly what I did this morning. My legs nearly staged a walk out. 12 miles on Saturday, 4 miles last night and 7 more this morning. They've had about enough of this little adventure. In the middle of our lunges, Maggie announced that this was our last week of "base training" and we'd be switching locations for training starting next Monday.

The first part was good --- she said we wouldn't be running as far in the next phase of training (Yay!) and the location is the track at Lovers and the tollway which is a 5 minute drive from my house (Double YAY!). Then, she dropped this little bomb. The next phase of our training is called "gut buster training" and she said it is "more intense" which made me vomit a little. What could be more intense than this? Count me as afraid. Very, very afraid.

On a positive note, I wore my skinniest skinny jeans this weekend. Perhaps there's a silver lining in all this sleep sacrifice.

An Inconvenient Truth

Oh, 12 miles ---- I thought we were friends. We had so many good times together. I remember when I used to see 12 miles on my schedule and rejoice. Not so yesterday. I saw your dark side, 12 miles and I don't know if our relationship will ever be the same.

I was dragging myself through the end of the Saturday run. It is just wrong to have so much humidity at that hour of the morning. I had to **wring** out my running skirt a few times. Still, the real problem this week was my lack of sleep. My tendency to over-schedule my life combined with my usual insomnia nearly did me in. People in my group are so peppy.

KC: **Yawn**

Peppy Runner: [insert annoying voice] NO yawning. Think how much you've accomplished already today. Only 5 more miles to go!!!!

KC: It is just so hot already.

Peppy Runner: But think how hot it would be if you waited until later to run! What a great day!

KC: [insert angry involuntary hiss]

I'm not saying we can't be pleasant, but please don't bust out the pom-poms before 7:00 a.m.

This week, I'm going to renew my commitment to sleep. It is an inconvenient truth that I can't do this with only a few hours of sleep under my belt every night. There's no substitute for rest. So, I'm going to stay home more during the week .... um ... right after I see Tokyo Police Club and Passion Pit on Monday night...

TCB

What's that you say? How was your Saturday run? Well, if I hadn't been working (not kidding) in conflict with my 5:30 a.m. Saturday morning run, I could tell you.

I am a slave to the schedule. I love the schedule. The schedule and I have a deal. I run exactly what's written on the paper and the schedule makes sure I'm ready. I once got up and ran 21 miles before a full work day at the firm just to make sure I ran the miles that I needed to run that week. So, I was in mild OCD panic when I realized there was no way I could run on Saturday. This is my black and white world where there are rules and plans and things work just the way they should.

A good lesson for me. Sometimes you have to adjust. I could probably stand to apply this lesson to my life as a whole (no comments from the peanut gallery, please). Baby steps. In any case, Sunday morning I got up for my long run of the week despite the fact that I knew crazy Maggie would be ready to kick my butt very early on Monday. I'm not going to pretend I was pleased about this turn of events, but I did it anyway. TCB.

Give It Up

As most of you know, I have committed to running the NYC marathon again in November. Last year, I ran the NYC marathon for me. This year, I'm running it on a mission with Fred's Team to help raise money for a worthy cause. Fred's Team is a dedicated group of runners who participate in athletic events to raise funds for cancer research at the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center--- the world's oldest and largest cancer treatment center.

How can you help? If you are in a position to provide financial support, your money will go to fund important research and new treatments to those affected by cancer. You can make a gift to my Fred's team run at the website listed below:

http://mskcc.convio.net/site/TR?pg=personal&fr_id=1310&px=1760252

If you can't provide financial support, please know that your emotional support will be just as important during the next 6 months. For every dollar that you give and every conversation about running that you endure, I am truly grateful. Thank you (in advance) for both.

The 4:40

This morning, Maggie announced on our warm up run that this week in ATP was all about "running when your legs were tired." I said, "What if ALL of you is tired, lady?" She explained that we'd be doing a tough boot camp BEFORE our run to recreate the feeling of the last few miles of a marathon when your legs are really exhausted, but you have to run through it. We proceeded to do a series of squat exercises for 30 minutes or so before running an "easy" 4 miles (her title, not mine).

I will admit that I have a hazy memory of the last four miles of the marathon last year. I *was* tired and my legs did hurt. Definitely. However, there are no other similarities between that glorious day in NYC (see picture) and this morning at White Rock Lake. Today, there were no crowds. No signs. No delicious carb-fest and beer binge waiting for me. Instead, I had a dog walk and full day of legal work on my post run schedule.

On a side note, I've decided that my blog should have been called the 4:40 ---- like those clever police codes. I told Tim and MK that the code would be a "4:40" to stand for "grumpy" or "painful" ... or both.

And Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Last weekend, Central Park and I met again. I ran what my friends call the "Baby Loop". Every 2 miles or so, I ran passed the finish line area for the marathon. Each time, I was reminded of how little hills add up. Exhausting doesn't cover it. Lucky for me, it works the other way too. All the training adds up. Every mile you put in ... every day you run, it gets easier. The program works. The hard part is sticking to it. Can someone please remind me of this tomorrow when I have to wake up before dawn on a Saturday?

We're running 7 miles in the group on Tuesdays and Thursdays now. Tomorrow is our first official loop around the lake. Many, many loops to go before November. The day will come when 10 miles will seem like a breeze. Did I actually write that?

Zombie Land

I wish there was a sound effect on this blog so I could insert the sound my *%# alarm made this morning at 4:50 a.m. Today was my first real day of the ATP (advanced training program) group. Yesterday, I claimed that I was going to report an attempted homicide because the Texas humidity had tried to murder me on my run. Let me assure you that Maggie, my ATP coach, would make Texas humidity beg for mercy. She's a little firecracker and I was frightened when she informed us we were going to "warm up" by running a mile. After the warm up run, there was a hazy time with some stretching and skipping. I wish I was kidding. Before I knew it, we were off for our actual run of the morning. Five miles. That's a total of 6 miles and some skipping before dawn.

I want to tell you about the run because I have never been in a group like this. People around me were seriously talking about qualifying for Boston. They were comparing race times and talking about movies. Even on a good day, I'm not chatty before the sun comes up and border on slightly bitter before my morning tea. I was focused on just keeping in the middle of the pack and not dying. On the plus side, I did run those five miles almost five full minutes faster than I ran on Saturday without the ATP group. One guy told me that he shaved almost 30 minutes off his marathon time by doing this training.

After our run(s), we did a series of boot camp exercises. Squats, lunges, core work, push ups and weights. When I got home, I walked the dog. I realized at some point that I'd been up for 3+ hours before I even started getting ready for work. Jon says I will remember this experience fondly. Jon underestimates my love of sleep.

I better look really, REALLY fit by the end of this thing.

What They Died For

Yes, that's a shout out to Lost, but instead of being about island mysteries, this post is about my poor feet. No one tells you about the gross little side effects of running. Summer becomes a constant battle between getting a pedicure so that your feet are pretty for sandals and realizing that every bit of pampering will cost you a little pain as your feet toughen up for all those long Saturday runs.

Last Saturday at our group run, one of the stretching coaches said, "Raise your hand if you lose toenails during your marathon training!" What kind of sport is this??? I confess that I started losing my toenails last year during my marathon training. Not all of them (thank god). I lose the second toenail on both feet. This is oddly normal for long distance runners. I'll answer your obvious questions:

Yes, I have seen a doctor.

No, it doesn't really hurt.

Yes, I have tried a few fixes (including bigger shoes).

I thought of adding a picture to this post, but decided that most of you would thank me for not seeing what a toenail looks like when it has separated, but not quite fallen off your toe.

Your sacrifice is appreciated, my dear feet. I promise to reward you with an appropriate pair of red leather shoes when this is all over.

The Sky is Made of Candy

Sometimes, when I'm at work and people ask me to do things that I deem completely unreasonable, I say, "Oh look, the sky is made of candy" --- trying to indicate to them that what they have requested of me is about as likely as the candy sky of their fantasy world. Today, my body told me the same thing when I said, "Okay, I'm going to need you to run 5 miles at noon in the Texas heat."

I admit it, I stayed up too late last night. This morning, after hitting snooze a few too many times, I had to choose between running before work and walking a certain very sweet brown puppy. That face gets me every time. Still, I was committed to running today and I have dinner plans tonight. That left lunch. It actually wasn't that hot for Texas, but it was enough to teach me a lesson. I will love my alarm clock. I will love my alarm clock. I will love my alarm clock...

A Word on Timmy

My dear friend Tim Swearingen is running the NYC marathon with me next year. He always says that I'm his running inspiration, but he's the inspiring one. He went from 0 to a 1/2 marathon in 6 short months and he lost ... wait for it ... 80+ pounds last year. This year, he's pushing himself to run the NYC marathon. Read that again. Wow.

There is no way to say how giddy it made me to see him complete the half or watching all the little changes along the way on his fitness odyssey. He's one of those people who has a contagious enthusiasm for life and a way of making you want to push harder and do better.

I'm so proud of him. Can't wait to see that shiny medal on his neck. Run, Timmy, run.

**BTW, I'm completely stealing the idea of this running blog from Timmy.

Check his out at http://seetimrun-runtimrun.blogspot.com

Hello ATP, Goodbye Sleep

On Sunday, Tim and I went by Luke's Locker to officially sign up for the training program. A flash of insanity came over me and I signed up for the Advanced Training Program. It seems that trying to kill myself by running pre-dawn for the next 6 months just isn't enough for me. Instead, I'll be adding some extra bootcamp workouts to my weekly runs. 5:30 at the lake 3 days a week instead of just 1. Have I mentioned that I'm crazy?

You vs. You

Last year, I ran my first marathon in NYC. A huge group of my friends sporting the cutest "Team Covey" t-shirts (thanks, Scanlan) came out to support and encourage me. I saw Team Covey for the last time at Mile 25. Empire State of Mind was playing on my ipod. I don't know if I've ever been happier. As you round the final corner into Central Park, you see the signs "The Last Mile" ---- "800 Meters" ---- "400 Meters" ---- "200 Meters" and then, the FINISH LINE. I celebrated with a perfect potato trifecta (mashed, fried, baked), apple pie and at least one beer for every mile of the race. At the end of my journal for the marathon I wrote "I'm going to miss every terrible, wonderful, minute of this journey." Best. Day. Ever.

And so, it begins again. I am going to run the NYC marathon on November 7th for the second time. I'll be doing it for a good cause this year (bust out your wallets, people). Some great friends will be running it with me. I'm already mentally posing for our medal photos and planning our post-marathon jaunts to Joe Allens and Mamas. I wouldn't miss it. And yet --- while the first paragraph of this post seems fabulous, I think I forgot the 180+ days of training it took to get me there. I forgot the early mornings and the Texas heat. I forgot that it was a lot of sweat, doubt, discipline and 4:40 alarm beeps. I must be crazy to do this all again. Crazy.