Four Marathons... Six Days... One AMAZING Dream

When my rockstar marathoner friend Gail told me that she had signed up to run five marathons in five days, I thought she was crazy.  How is that even possible?!  When she encouraged me to join her, I thought she must be out of her mind.  No way I could do something like that!  I had never even run two marathons in a month, let alone in a row.  But she had me thinking... 

After a few weeks of turning it over in my mind and going through all the "what if's", I decided to see what I was capable of.  I had already registered for the Sugarloaf Marathon in northern Maine the day before the challenge was scheduled to start, so I decided to add two marathons after that.  Before I knew it, I was signed up for Sugarloaf on Sunday; Portland, Maine on Monday; and Nashua, New Hampshire on Tuesday.  Yikes.

Fast forward to this Sunday, where I had the race of my life at Sugarloaf.  Even though I was trying to hold back to conserve energy for the two marathons to follow, I took 16 minutes off my PR and finished feeling stronger than ever.  I also found myself enjoying every minute of the breathtakingly scenic course.  It was a perfect day.  Stayed tuned for my Sugarloaf Marathon race recap later this week!

After finishing at Sugarloaf, I embarked on the 133 mile, 2.5 hour drive down to Portland for marathon #2.  As I would soon find out, the driving time after a marathon was almost as much of an endurance event as the race itself.  My gas pedal leg and lower back were not impressed by this idea at all!  But on the winding mountain roads through some beautiful countryside, this first drive passed relatively quickly.  That evening, I began what became a nightly ritual of hotel hot tub soaks, foam-rolling, laying out race clothes, and getting breakfast ready for the 3 AM wake-up call.  With back-to-back marathons, it was all about staying organized, and I had packed a different duffel bag for each race, in addition to a suitcase for contingency supplies. - rain gear, first aid supplies and blister treatment, cold weather clothes, and much more.

Preparing for these races was no joke!

It was lucky that I had packed extra race-day clothing options, because when we arrived at the Back Cove in Portland for marathon #2, it was 33 degrees with 25 mph winds.  The shorts, singlet and arm warmers I had planned on were clearly not going to cut it.  I decided to start the race with a fleece-lined tech jacket that I could take off once I warmed up.  It was a nice thought at the time, but it quickly became clear that I was not going to warm up.   The cloud cover was thick and the winds were brutally cold.  Even with my jacket on, I just couldn't get warm.

Even my car's rubber ducky mascot was glad to be inside!

For the first few miles of the race, I felt as good as could be expected.  I could feel the muscle fatigue from the previous day's hills in my quads, but I was settling into a good rhythm.  The course's seven 3.6 mile laps on a dirt path around the bay made for a predictable, flat run.  But then there was the wind.  As the morning wore on, the wind only got stronger, to the point where I literally held onto a fence several times because it felt like I would be swept off my tired legs.  Running into the wind felt like I was on a treadmill - expending a ton of energy, but getting nowhere.  And I was cold.  And miserable.  And everything hurt.  

This is my "not having fun" face!

By mile 11, I had all but talked myself into dropping down to the half marathon.  I was mentally and physically exhausted, and being out there for another several hours felt insurmountable.  It was then that I saw my amazing runner friends at mile 14.  They were a lap ahead of me, and although they looked almost as miserable as I felt, seeing them gave me the mental boost that I desperately needed.  Seeing the familiar faces got me out of my own head.  I pushed myself to refocus, and I started to believe that if I wanted to finish, I had it in me.  And if I wanted to quit, I could do that too.  It was my decision.  

I decided to buckle down and try for one more lap to get to mile 18. I pushed myself to focus on the positives. The bay we were running around was beautiful. The other runners were incredibly supportive. I had some amazing people in my life including my crazy runner friends who inspired me and believed I could do it. And I had already come 34.2 miles over two days at that point. As one of my favorite Tom Brady quotes goes, "we haven't come this far just to come this far."  That quote became my race mantra, and it kept me pushing on.

By mile 18, not only had my mindset changed, but I could feel a physical difference in my body as well. Yes, I was still in pain and tired and cold, but I felt strong and capable. I dug as deep as I could, and finished the last 8 miles at a SLOW pace, but with my head held high. With every step, I felt like I was accomplishing something that I hadn't truly believed I could do.  

One last shuffle across the timing mat!

In the end, for me this race taught me a lot about myself, and about the power I have over my own outcomes. It was all about believing I could.  Yes, I had a lot of physical obstacles in this race - the brutally cold conditions, the strong winds, and a lot of muscle fatigue - but none of those were insurmountable.  It was my mind that was giving up, not my body.  But once I locked it into my head that I was NOT going to quit no matter what it took, my body followed.  I learned that I was a lot stronger than I would have let myself believe.

Car keys in hand... get me the heck outta here!

All too quickly after a much-needed hot shower, a 105 mile drive, and a lot of celebratory pizza with my runner friends, my alarm was going off at 3 AM the next morning.  Marathon #3 was at Mine Falls Park in Nashua, New Hampshire, through some beautiful dirt trails along the Nashua River.  It was a scenic course, and the 50-degree, sunny weather made for ideal conditions.  I was ready for redemption!  

What a difference a day makes!

Unfortunately, although I was mentally in much better shape than the previous day, my body was starting to feel the effects of having run 52 miles in the prior two days.  For the first half of the race, my GI system decided to revolt against yet another marathon, and I threw up every cup of water or gel that I tried to get down.  My legs were equally unhappy with this crazy plan, and I stopped several times to stretch a tight left hamstring and an aching right Achilles.  Three marathons in three days is no joke, let me tell you!

By somewhere around mile 12 though, my body had worked out its issues and realized that yes, we were doing this again... whether it liked it or not!  My legs started loosening up, and my stomach settled down, and I actually started feeling pretty good.  I was amazed that with each passing mile, my body felt stronger and stronger.  I was doing it.  I was accomplishing something that several months earlier (and even the day before) had seemed totally impossible.  I felt on top of the world!

My last two laps of the 5-mile looped course averaged a 9-minute pace - almost a half marathon PR for me, which after three days of marathoning, felt pretty darn good!  For that last half of the race, I ran with a huge grin on my face, knowing that I was reaching my dream with each passing step.  My body was capable of some pretty impressive things.   Who would've thought I had this in me?!

Cheesy grin all day long... check!

It was shortly after finishing that I started wishing that I could keep going.  Dumb, I know.  But I felt SO good.  The feeling of accomplishment and pride was incomparable.  I was having the time of my life with my runner friends, and we were living our dreams together.  It was a perfect day and a near-perfect race, and I felt like I had another one in me.  I had to head home for work the next day, but I decided that I would attempt a fourth marathon two days later on Friday.  It was my runner friends' final marathon of the 5 in 5 challenge, and I was thrilled to not only be there to support them, but to finish my own challenge as well.

So two days later, there I was driving to western Massachusetts for one last overnight stay before the Old Colony Marathon in Westfield.  With newly packed duffel bags and freshly laundered running clothes, I settled into what had become a familiar routine of hot tub, foam-rolling and race-day preparations.  And once again, 3 AM came all too quickly!  But this last morning felt different... gone were the pre-race nerves of the previous three marathons.  Today, I had no expectations for myself.  I was out to have a good time.  We were running our victory lap.

Good-looking Colonials in our matching tanks!

And what a perfect day it was!  This course consisted of 1.8-mile loops around Stanley Park, a beautiful privately-owned garden and arboretum, complete with its own Carillon tower with bells that tolled each hour, a small Japanese garden and teahouse, and even a covered bridge.  The weather was 70-degrees and sunny, and the course was almost entirely flat.  Talk about a dream run!

I started off feeling stronger than I had for any of the previous three races.  Both my legs and my mind knew what was coming, and I was ready.  Positive mindset, locked and loaded!  One of my incredible runner friends was on the course supporting us, and we passed him a total of 16 times as we ran loops around the park.  The power of that kind of encouragement was unbelievable - seeing him each time put a smile on my face and kept me focused on my goal.  The shorter laps also meant that I caught several glimpses of my rockstar runner friend on her 5th race in 5 days.  She looked SO strong, and I knew we were doing it!  

Seeing the bell tower meant I was close to the timing mat and my runner friend!

While Marathon #2 for me was all about mental strength and learning that I had the power over my own outcomes, Marathon #3 was more of a physical challenge - of overcoming the pain and full-body fatigue of 78 miles of running, and proving to myself that my body is capable of hard things.  In turn, Marathon #4 for me was less about what I had inside of me, and more about the incredible people I have around me.  

As part of Colonial Road Runners, my running club in Southeastern Massachusetts, I have been blessed to meet so many incredible runners and friends.  They have pushed me and made me into a faster and stronger runner, and have taught me so much from their years of experience.  But even more, they have welcomed me into their amazing circle and supported me through some tough challenges.  All throughout the week, my close friends and fellow Colonials had sent us their support through text messages and Facebook posts, and reading their words of encouragement and celebration was just the spiritual fuel I needed to keep at it.  That, combined with my runner friend alongside me, and her incredible husband supporting us out on the course, made me feel like I could accomplish anything.  

Literally smiling for 26.2 miles... my face was sore!

Running Marathon #4 for me was not about what I could do alone - it was what I was capable of doing because so many incredible people were there to support me through it.  I realized that without my runner friends' encouragement and belief in my ability to do this long before I believed it myself, I would have never crossed the first starting line.  And without their support throughout the journey, I wouldn't have had the mental and physical strength to persevere.  After 104.8 miles, I came to truly understand that when our bodies and our minds have nothing left to give, it is then that we draw strength from those around us.  That strength is built upon the support and love of those closest to us, who believe in us when we have trouble doing it ourselves.  It's what keeps us going through the tough times, and what makes celebrating the victories all the more special. 

So.  Much.  Love.

A day later and after 104.8 miles, I am left with an infinitely deeper belief in my own abilities to surpass difficult obstacles and to conquer seemingly unreachable goals.  This week allowed me to realize that I am capable of doing some really tough things, and that I am stronger than I ever would have thought.  But even more so, I am left with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and support of the incredible people I have in my life.  I can't thank my incredible runner friends enough... your passion for this wonderful sport convinced me to embark on this seemingly impossible journey, and your unceasing encouragement saw me through the last finish line with a smile on my face.  We are only as strong as the people we surround ourselves with, and I am truly blessed to be inspired by the very best.  From the bottom of my heart... thank you.

Linking up with Holly from HoHo Runs and Tricia from MissSippiPiddlin for the Weekly Wrap!

 

Hotter Than... Old Port Half Marathon Race Recap

The Old Port Marathon started off so beautifully.  I arrived at the Ocean Gateway Terminal, the main pier in downtown Portland where the race started, just as the sun was rising over the docks.  

Probably wins for best Packet Pickup view ever.

 I spent some time stretching and warming up along the tip of the pier, feeling the cool ocean breeze and enjoying the salty spray of the waves as they crashed upon the dock.  I was ready for a great race!

I loved the red tug boats... so quintessential Maine!

 As the start of the race took us straight down Commercial Street, a flat two miles along the water, straight through the heart of downtown Portland, I was feeling pretty good.  I knew the hilliest part of the race was ahead of me at mile 3 in the Western Promenade Park, but I tried to stay in the moment and enjoy the beautiful views.

I kind of wanted to stop for some shopping and a coffee...

 And then the hilly part came.  And just as the narrator in the race preview video said, the hills were so steep that you could walk faster than you could run.  I actually saw some people have to STOP walking to take a rest midway up the hill.  It was unbelievably steep, and the hills seemed to never stop coming!  By the time I left the Western Promenade around mile 5, I couldn't even feel my quads and gluts.  

Definitely time for a coffee break after all those hills!

 As I ran back down Commercial Street toward the Eastern Promenade and a loop around the Back Cove, the sun was really starting to pound down.  The views of the ocean were absolutely stunning, but the lack of shade along the ocean-side paths made the heat stifling.  As I reached the Back Cove, I could feel myself getting more and more dehydrated as the miles passed by.

Too hot to appreciate the beautiful views

I knew the trail around the Back Cove would be 3.5 miles before the course turned back toward the finish line, and trail had mile markers every quarter-mile.  I counted down each one of those mile markers, which seemed to get increasingly further apart as I circled the bay.  Luckily, after the Back Cove loop, there were 3 water stops over the last few miles of the course.  I stopped at every table, drinking in as much water and Gatorade as my parched throat could swallow.  Finally, I reached the finish line - my legs feeling remarkably good, but the rest of me feeling unbelievably awful.

The awards were actually buoys - so cool!

After finishing, I managed to make it all the way to the line of Port-a-Potties before throwing up every last drop of water and Gatorade I had drank over the past three miles.  If there is anything more miserable than being hot, sore, tired, and violently ill in a 3x3 Port-a-Potty used by hundreds of other sweaty runners, I have yet to discover it.  

On the drive back up north, I had to pull over twice, throwing up things I didn't even remember eating on the side of I-95.  It was pretty fantastic.  Not.  By the time I got back, I was so dehydrated and dizzy that all I could do was pass out on my bed, still in my gross running clothes, that had acquired white streaks stained with salt from sweat dried by the hot sun.  After a long nap, I alternated between chair and bed for the entire afternoon, slowly drinking glass after glass of water, and trying to help my pounding head and churning stomach recover from their ordeal.  It wasn't until dinnertime that I started to feel somewhat human again.

A well-earned victory photo!

Finally, around 7 pm, I was able to get some solid food down, and muster a half-smiling attempt at a victory photo with my medal and race shirt.  At least the medal and the shirt were good-looking, because I certainly was not!!

All in all, not my best race.  Dehydrating then over-hydrating and getting violently ill really detracted from the beautiful ocean views and seamless organization of a race in one of my favorite cities.  But would I do it again next year, for my third consecutive Old Port race?  Without a doubt.  Hopefully next year, I will be smarter about my fluid intake... lesson learned!!

Have you ever over-hydrated during a race?  What are your hydration tips for marathons?