My Marathon Monday

This has been a weird 24 hours. I was having the best day I can remember in ages. Early morning swim, made it home in time to make breakfast treats for the team and made the commuter rail just in time. It was a long slow trek of many colors, purple, red and inimitable green, to the mile 23 shin-dig my teammates were throwing. It was my first Marathon Monday, I was beyond excited.

Settling back into Boston has been an adjustment for me. Between changing careers, being injured on several occasions and just getting my life together, my new team at NB has made the adjustment immensely easier. Runners it seems, speak the same language. Fluent in personal records and neuroses and accented by injuries, it just seems like our dialect ties us together. Its been great to have this support system.

That being said, we were having an absolute blast cheering our friends and compadres along as they neared the finish line. It didn’t matter if you were BAA, Greater Boston Track Club or a recreational jogger, runners yell and cheer for runners passionately. Its rare we get our day in the proverbial sports sun, we were all loving it.

After watching friends and teammates go by, it was about 1:40 when I figured I had better high tail it home. I had a commute of many colors to go. I wanted to make South Station for the 2:40 train, and if it weren’t Marathon day, I’d have probably been just fine.

We crawled along Beacon Street. Too many revellers and runners were slowing our progress. I remember looking at my watch thinking, Even with a bum leg I’d have been better off running to Park Street. Maybe I’ll just get off and hubway (bike) it there.”

The crush of people prevented me from moving from my seat, so I waited it out. The irritated conductor kept announcing that there would be no Copley Stop for the day because of the Marathon- great it was actually like an express 3 train in Manhattan. I looked at my watch after Hynes Convention Center Station- 2:49, irritated, I am pretty sure I audibly grumbled to myself and defeatedly sank into my seat.

We were delayed again, between Hynes and Arlington. I figured it was because of train traffic. There was a shake and a noise and nothing else. Typical train stuff- Made it to park street finally. I jumped on a train bound for Braintree. I chatted with a Scottish man, about 60 or so, who had finished the race in 2:57. Proud of his accomplishment and contentedly munching on a large bagel sandwich, we swapped running tales and talked about his need to stretch and cool down. This rarely happens on the T. I scarcely withdraw my eyes from a text or the floor on a normal T trip in fear that they might extend an invitation for unwanted conversation. Marathon Monday is different, everyone is pleasant and there is a communal spirit of goodwill towards runners. It is most definitely a holiday for “my people” as my mom would say.

My phone had less than 5% battery at that point but I was bored, so I checked my twitter for something to do. I saw a tweet about explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Thinking it was a horrible joke,  I kept scanning for more information. The photo of the finish line, in front Marathon Sports popped up. It was chilling to think that I had just been there.

Like the worst domino effect of all time, shock, guilt, worry anxiety just fell through my consciousness. I had barely missed it, but what if my friends had not. I have co-workers, teammates and acquaintances that either work or were finishing at that point. I mentioned the explosion to my new friends-in-running, and the communal affect of my words was a unified silence. It didn’t take long for people to realize that we were probably on the train, underneath that spot when the bombs went off. It only took another second for people to frantically pull out phones, computers and any other communication device to reach out to loved ones.

I stared out the window to stop myself from totally losing it, but by the end of the ride I was a puddle of tears. My Scottish friend tapped me on the knee as he left, and the people across from me wished me well as they left the train.

My friends, thankfully, are all okay. In the absence of knowing what to do, I chose to do nothing.  I went to bed at 7 pm. Those who know me, know very well that this is about as common as seeing the aurora borealis. Once in a lifetime.

I am unsure when exactly I picked this up, but for some time- when I am having a crap track workout or failing miserably on a tempo run, I repeat to myself, “The only way out, is through.” It is this ability to persevere through the crap, through the discomfort- that makes endurance sports so admirable. It is on days like Marathon Monday, that those racing and those who just love the sport, wear this marker of courage or insanity so proudly. So I am thankful that of any group that this could have affected, the running community is where Boston will have to look to find its strength and support. This event has shown that our core strength, our love for the sport and for our peers, is unshakable.

Thanks for all the well-wishes. Its been amazing to know I have such great friends in my life.

I love Early Mornings- Don't judge me

I adore the early morning. I don’t mind being a snot about it, but I feel accomplished waking before the rest of humanity to do something. Typically its writing, but I can be convinced of other morning pursuits if the time and temperature are right.

In college, there was a spell when I would swim every morning before class. Rain, snow, frigid wind or hail. By 7 am my sorry butt was in the pool. It was never a pretty sight seeing as though my strokes were bad, I lacked a swim cap and I was lucky if I could endure 1000 meters before k-oing.

The only reason I made those mornings was through the kind badgering of a friend. She would drive the 150 meters from her dorm to mine to pick me up in the golden bullet, her mini van born in the early 90s, attempting conversation while I shoved handfuls of Kashi down my throat to wake up.

Once standing physically next to the pool, it was sometimes too cold for either of us to jump in. Sans judgment, we would continue to babble to delay the task at hand. We always eventually jumped in. The shared obligation of doing something became the hand to our stubborn backs, ushering us forward like a prisoner to the guillotine.

I miss those mornings dearly. The camaraderie, the feeling of undeniable accomplishment when the session was over, even the arctic cold that steals your breath away when you first take the plunge.

But mostly, I just miss having my friend there. Right beside me, tackling the unpleasantries of life. The biggest adjustment to leaving the bubble, be it Williams or otherwise, is the newfound presence of absence. It’s a party of one my friend, so you better learn quickly how to start hanging out with yourself.

So this is an easy way to start your morning on your onesies and feel amazeballs about opening those peepers- whether its at 6 am or 12 pm- and you don’t need to share it with anyone.

Morning Mojo Smoothie

1.5 Cups of Frozen fruit- I use the Trader Joe’s Very Cherry Blend (high in Antioxidants and absolutely delicious)

Half a banana (frozen for thicker smoothie)

1 C spinach

1 Tbsp Nut Butter of Choice

Chocolate or Vanilla Almond Milk-Fill half to 3/4 of the way up

1. Dust off that Food processor hidden in your cupboard

2. Fill with the spinach first- It’s light and the heavier fruit will push it down to get a chunk-free smoothie. (Who wants spinach in the teeth before lunch time?)

3. Once all the ingredients are in the processor add your almond milk until it almost covers the fruit but not completely

4. Blend Thoroughly- About 3-4 minutes to prevent aforementioned chunkage