I think my body is falling apart and other joys of getting older

About a month ago, I developed a rash on my back and ankle. When I saw the doctor she told me it was just bug bites and that it would go away with an extra strength hydrogen cortisone cream. Fast forward to Monday...I go back to the doctor's office because the rash on my foot has not gone away; In fact it keeps getting worse. She immediately sends me to the dermatologist who chats my ear off for 30 minutes and the takes a biopsy sample. We are not just talking about a small scrape of the foot, we are talking about a chunk of my ankle the size a pea. In addition to the rash on my foot, I also now have a huge blister between my fourth toe and pinkie toe, and a rash on my shin, and strange bumps on my thighs and palms. No, I haven't been rolling around in the woods. I'm not sure what all this is from.

But clearly my body is trying to tell me something...

I believe that your body shows external signs of stress, sometimes before you even realize you are stressed. Your body reacts to stressful situations by doing odd things. Think about it, is there someone who just gets on your nerves or rubs you the wrong way? How does your body react when you see that person? Do you get a knot in your neck, in your stomach? Do you have a muscle twitch? Are you tongue tied? How does your body react when you are in both good stress and bad stress situations?

My body is clearly trying to tell me something, but I can not figure out what. Maybe I am playing too much soccer and I'm just having a reaction to my shin guards; maybe I'm not sleeping enough; Maybe I'm not eating the right foods; Maybe my body wants me to make some sort of life change. Maybe my body is finally saying enough of all the stress.

I'm not sure what it is....but I'm trying to figure it out. In the meantime, my toe hurts from the blisters, my ankle itches and hurts from the rash and biopsy, and the rash on my leg keeps growing larger. All in all, it's a pretty good day.

Oh, and did I mention I lost a toe nail?

My new found electronic love...

I have never understood the obsession with video games. I equate video games to overweight dorky boys (and men!!!) who have no social skills(I know I'm insulting some of my readers but bear with me). I've never understood the desire to sit in front of a television or a computer in the house and press buttons and blow things up. I'd rather be outside or anywhere else doing anything else...until now...

To say I like my Wii would be correct. To say that I am falling in love with my Wii Fit would be an understatement. The people at Nintendo got it right this time...totally marketing to people like me...active, fun, and hating to sit still.

We hooked up our New Wii Fit last night and I played for several hours. While some of the things are easy, I was informed that my balance is off and that I'm terrible at balance related activities. I even broke a sweat doing some of the strength training.

I hate to admit it but I am starting to enjoy video games. I am hoping that the Wii Fit helps me to exercise at home a bit more and gives me some other activities to do when I am short on time. I can not wait to get home tonight and do more strength and yoga poses. I can not wait to beat my high score on the slalom. And finally, I am hoping that it helps me lose the 5 lbs. I've gained since the marathon.

More importantly though, I can finally tell all my guy friends, "I like video games too (and I am gonna look damn good when I'm done playing)".

I'm slow and I'm over it

I went to my second track work out last night. We had the option of doing 800s or mile repeats. The group I was in decided to run mile repeats.

We did a 1 mile warm up and then started with the work out.

Mile repeats (4 x 400) with a few minute rest in between each one.

My group consisted of Shifter, Lauren, Lauren, Mary-Ann, and myself. Our first mile was 8:50!! Way faster than I usually run. We started the second mile and I started to lag behind. I knew there was no way I could keep up a 8:50 pace for 4+ miles, even with breaks in between each mile. I completed two more miles probably pacing around 9:15-9:30 and realized I was done running. I did one final cool down lap and watched as everyone else completed several more miles. 4 and 1/4 miles total for me(including warm up and cool down)

I admit I was distracted. There were people playing soccer on several different fields. All I could think was how bummed I was that I hadn't been able to go to my Monday game this week. I also have not been running that much nor am I training for anything right now. I don't consider myself out of shape, but maybe not as motivated to run.

Going to track workouts is enjoyable. Everyone is so encouraging. But there is also a sense of frustration. So many people on our team are amazing athletes and so competitive. I've always considered myself an athlete, but being around them makes me question my strength. These people are hard core and I am not a hard core runner. I will never run a 6 minute mile. I will never qualify for Boston. I keep going to track workouts so that I can still be part of the group, still socialize with my friends, and keep moving. Evetually maybe I will get faster, but that is not my main goal.

The group went out for drinks and food after the run. I left the bar last night with a mix of emotions. I am so happy to be part of this group, but I also at times feel disconnected. I need to remember that I am going to these runs for me and no one else. No one judged me when I would be the last one in from group runs during the winter months. No one judges me at track either. It is OK if I have no idea how to maintain 80% pace for 1 mile or even if I have no idea what 80% is. It is OK if I only do 3 miles compared to everyone else who does 4, 5, or 6. It is OK when someone says to me, "I could have done more" for me to reply: "You did what you wanted to do. You did what you could do. And tomorrow is another day." It is OK for me to take my own advice.

This evening, I will play soccer and love every minute of it. Tomorrow, I will do whatever I want: go for a run, a spin class, yoga, lift weights. Or maybe do nothing at all. Because it is all about what I want for me....

I'm slow, I know it, and I'm over it. In fact, I kind of embrace it. It allows me to get lost in my thoughts, enjoy the scenery, and remember it's all about me.

A strange emotion

I am sitting here reading through previous posts, most specifically the posts right before and after the Boston Marathon. For some reason the one from April 20th really hit me....and I started doing something I haven't done in quite some time...I started crying.

What is this strange emotion? Is it because I am stressed out about my final exam? Is it because I've had an exhausting week of work and it is only Wednesday? Or is it because I can finally call myself a marathon runner, even if I never run another one again.... Or is it because I've come so far personally? Something no one will ever take away from me.

I'm not sure why, but I have an overwhelming rush of emotions. The only thing that makes sense to me right now though, is to go for a run.

The last nerd standing

In high school, I dated athletes. In college I realized that although the athletes I dated were hot, their brain power was lacking. And though I never made a conscious effort to stop dating athletes, all of a sudden I was dating nerds. Now, don't get me wrong...nerds are hot!!! I'd rather a man with brains than a man with a killer body and nothing in his head (I'd actually rather a nerd with a killer body and an amazing personality, but I digress).

But here's my questions: What do you do when you become the nerd?

I admit I'm ultra competitive in everything I do. And more than that, I am a perfectionist (we can thank my mom for that). It comes out in everything I do, from work to cooking to playing soccer. And currently, my school work....

I am currently taking a Nutrition class at Simmons College. I am taking the class for free through work and although the material is hard, I am thoroughly enjoying it. We had our midterm this past Monday and it was much harder than I expected. Between the midterm and class discussion, I lamented to my professor how much harder the exam was than I expected. Her response was, "Well, I said before that grades truly fall on a bell curve". My response to her was, "Well, I want to be on the top of the bell curve" (I really meant I wanted to have the highest grade in the class which would have meant the far right side of the bell curve but you get what I mean). Her response was, "Marcy, you are a perfectionist." To which I replied, "I know." She then told me that that was what got her through her PHD.

Fast forward to Wednesday: She puts the grade breakdown on the board and starts to hand back the exams. Only four people scored in the 90-100 range.

What did I get??? A 96%!!!!

After class my teacher told me she was never worried about my grade. A feeling of content washed over me. Have I found my calling?? Am I really a science geek in athlete's clothing?

Can an athlete be a nerd or a nerd be an athlete? Can I be successful at being both?

For now, this athletic nerd is going to glow in her 96...that is until she takes the final next Wednesday.

Maybe slower than the gingerbread man

Last night I went to my first track workout with team TNT. TNT is made up of mostly DFMC teammates and a few other friends. I have been unable to go to the workouts thus far, but have wanted to be a part of the group (it goes along with my team theory from a previous post). I also want to get faster, run harder, and remember why I love running.

I got to the track and was greeted by several familiar faces. Laurie explained the track workout to us while we waited for team captain Matt. As I listened to her all I could think was "What did I just get myself into? I have no idea what she is talking about?".

So here is what we were scheduled to do:

1 mile warm up (4 x 400 or 4 laps around the track)
3 x 400 (3 laps)
1 x 400 (at about 90%, speed trial pace (or something like that))

Based on your place for the last 400, you were matched with your partner for the rest of the run. The first place person matched with the last, etc.

I, of course, was last. I was matched with the first-time marathon qualifier Jeff.

The next plan was as follows:

6 x 400 each person (alternating runners)
1 lap stretch
6 x 400 each person (alternating runners)

The problem was that with the slowest person being placed with the fastest, the slow person would have less time to rest and be running the entire time.

Luckily, there was a solution. Mary-Ann and I teamed up and split up the running duties. This means we got twice the amount of time to rest and ran less. perfect solution.

Overall, I completed about 4-5 miles.

I was very worried about going to the track. I haven't been running very much and I know I am very very slow. So many of these runners are super stars and I wasn't sure what to expect. I've only been running 3-5 miles at most and only once or twice a week.

During my 400s, I listened to my breathing (and wheezing-damn asthma). I focused on my legs and my arms. I listened when a teammate passed me and cheered me on. I ran without a watch, without worrying about my speed, I just ran.

When I finished I felt great (perhaps a runners high?). While I didn't do the complete workout, I did what was right for me. I was happy to be out there. I was happy to be supported by friends. I am starting to remember why I used to love running.

Mr. Gingerbread Man, eat my dust!!!

My New Mantra

We are all busy people. If you, my fine readers, are anything like me you take on too much. You like to be busy. You like to run from thing to thing to thing...or maybe it's just what you do.

In a meeting yesterday with my career coach, she provided me with my new Manta. She told me that 95% is ok...that sometimes we don't have time for 100%.


Very good is good enough

I need to strive not for perfection, but rather for good enough. I need to let go of the idea that the only way for things to be done is perfect. I need to believe that 95% is the very best and accept that there are not enough hours in the day for 100%. I need to remind myself of this when I get overwhelmed with school, and work, and life. I need to remind myself that no one is really perfect. Even me...

Remembering that I love to sweat OR My new found love of soccer

During marathon training, I cut back on many of the other athletic activities I enjoy (soccer, yoga, weight training). Since the marathon, I have been trying to get back into some of those things. What I am really trying to do is remind myself how much I used to love working out. I used to love the feeling of my heart pounding, my legs screaming, my muscles aching. It gave me so much energy and so much enjoyment. I was definitely one of those people who would leave the gym dripping with sweat happier than before I went to the gym.

Now, I'm trying to remember what it felt like before the marathon. I'm trying to remember what it felt like to have a rush of endorphins. I'm trying to remember what activities I loved before my life only became running. I'm trying to remind myself that it is ok to only spend 30 minutes at the gym rather than three hours+ on the arc trainer.

I've tried some of the old standbys at the gym: Spinning, Rebounding, General Cardio, even a weight training class. And while I am enjoying those, it isn't the same. My IT Band still hurts. My toe is still stiff. I'm having to remember how to use my muscles in different ways. I'm remembering that there are people at the gym who drive me nuts (the girl making faces at herself in the mirror during class, the woman who will not follow the directions of the instructor).

And then there is soccer. My old love, my old flame...the one who has hurt me so many times and I keep coming back to for more. I've played two and a half games in the last week. My legs and body were hurting after. I even pulled my groin on Tuesday (something I did every preseason in high school). But I realized one thing....I love soccer. Maybe it is because we won 2 out of the 3 games. Or maybe it is because I am faster now. Maybe it is because I played really well. Maybe it was because other people acknowledged I played well. Maybe it was being part of a team again.

After weeks of struggling with working out, I found something that I love again. Something that makes me sweat. Something that makes me run and jump and cheer on my teammates. Perhaps my inability to latch on to another athletic activity is because I've been part of a team for so long. While running is often explained as a individual and solitary activity, it has become much more of a team event for me. While running on Marathon Monday was about me reaching my goal, I was surrounded by team members and friends every inch of the way. It is team members who have pushed me to work harder, run harder. It is team members who have picked me up when I was down or injured. It is being a part of something that encourages me to go on....

So, Soccer, my love, after months of avoiding you, I wish to rekindle this relationship. I will run hard, tackle hard, and maybe some day score a goal. I will roll in the mud when appropriate and not cringe when a little blood drips down my knee. I will enjoy the sun, and ignore my farmer's tan. I will be the best athlete I can be....and remember what is to be part of a team.

Three weeks later...

The last three weeks have been difficult. I expected the marathon experience to be this overwhelming feeling of excitement, relief, joy, and accomplishment. I hate to admit that it hasn't been all roses. I've felt this nagging sadness that I can't quite shake. It took me almost three weeks to proudly say, "Running the Marathon was awesome". I've missed my running friends, even though I know they are only an email or a phone call away. I've felt empty...how do you take months of training leading up to one of the most amazing experiences of your life and go back to the normal everyday?

I was looking through people's blogs and came across one that summed up everything I am feeling. This post from Laurie made me remember I'm not alone in feeling this way. It also helped to see Lauren and Lindsey comment on the post.

Still I wonder, how does life continue on? How do you take the most amazing experience of your life, something so few people can do, and go back to normal? The truth is I do not want to go back to normal. The truth is I don't want normal. This experience has shown me that there is more out there, more that I can do, more that I can be. This experience has caused me to question my dreams and reach for the stars no matter how far they seem. This experience has taught me that even when I fall on my face (both figuratively and literally), that I need to brush myself off and keep walking. The only way to continue on is to put one foot in front of the other. So when the sadness, emptiness, numbness hits, I have one thing to do. Push myself through it. Remember that I ran the FREAKIN' Boston Marathon, hold my head up high (even when no one else is asking me about it), and set a new goal for myself.

And most importantly, remember that this was an amazing experience, filled with amazing people and amazing new friends. Thank you Dad for the strength to do this. Thank you Dana-Farber for this amazing, life changing opportunity.

A week and a half to ponder

This is the post you all have been waiting for...the post of all post...the acknowledgement that I ran the Boston Marathon.

I know several of you have been waiting for this post to come out. And while the ideas have been circling in my head for quite some time, I have not been ready to write it. I've had an array of emotions since the big day and at points have not been sure which way is up. But today, a week and a half later as it is still sinking in I am ready to write this...After all, Chet said to me the other day, "You ran the Boston Marathon!!! Aren't you in awe of yourself?"

And the answer is sometimes. I put so much pressure on myself to complete this race, raise as much money as I could, fight back from injuries, while still having a life and a job. I'm honestly not sure how successful I was at managing everything. It has taken me a week to accept that I set out to do what I wanted: run a marathon (Boston at that)and raise money for cancer research. I was part of something so small (550 people small!!!) but so big and so important. I put so much pressure on myself to be the best, to do the best and when I finished I wondered if I could have done better, if I could have done more. The honest truth is that I've done so much for myself. I've helped the DFMC program towards its goal of $4.5 million.

It sounds strange to say, but the five hours that I was on the course (5:02:14 to be exact) were a blur. I was surrounded by two amazing women (thank you Tracie and Heidi) who helped me push through the pain. Tracie and Heidi were my running buddies for the majority of the race. Heidi and I met at the first timers' run and I will be forever grateful for our friendship. I met Tracie and her sister Stacie at the last DFMC meeting. The women lost their father recently. Tracie was also battling back from IT Band injury (just like me). I know that Tracie's father and my father were looking down on us smiling. I told Tracie that our father's were most likely having a class of wine and commenting on how crazy we were.

I talked to my knees (and for that matter Tracie's knees) when the pain started to be unbearable. I thanked my Dad for an amazing beautiful day. I listened to the crowds as they screamed "Go Marcy" and "Thank you Dana-Farber". I laughed at the guy in the Tweety Bird Suit. I met other DFMCers along the way (thank you Steve for being so awesome). I pushed myself through 17 miles with the knowledge that my Mom, Sandy, and Chet were right past that point. I am grateful to Chet for running the hills with me and being patient as I grumbled. I am forever indebted to Susan and Marisa for flying all the way to Boston for a little thing called the marathon. I couldn't have gotten through the last 5 miles without them. I am thankful for my friends who let me give them big sweaty hugs (Kate, Kerry, Angela) and for seeing other friends along the course.

I think I expected for my heart to be healed but this reminded me that it never will be. I wanted to see my Dad at every turn. I wanted him to hug me when I crossed the finish line. While neither of those things happened, I am glad to have been able to honor his life. I know he was with me every step of the way. I know he will always be with me.

To be honest, the marathon never seemed real and it still doesn't. What reminds me that it was real (aside from the occasional nagging pain in my legs), is all of the amazing people I have met. I am grateful for their support and kindness. What reminds me that it is real is the fact that I have a medal to wear around my neck. I have a very smelly jersey, which I am debating ever washing. I have the knowledge that I finished the Boston Marathon and that Nothing is Impossible.

Now I'm ready for my next adventure......

Happy Patriot's Day (and 112th Boston Marathon)

I can't believe in a few short hours I will start this crazy run. I also can't believe that it's just 5am and I am eating breakfast. Oatmeal with soy milk and bananas, yum.

I'm not really nervous. Yes, I have small butterflies, but not overwhelming moths in my stomach. The months of training will all pay off today. The exhaustion of getting up early on the weekends will all pay off today. All of the fundraising and all of the support will push me through the difficult parts of my run today.

I am grateful for all of the support, both financial and emotional. Who would have thought that I would ever be able to run a marathon??

I leave my readers with this last thought: Today, I set out to conquer the Boston Marathon and help researchers and scientists conquer cancer. Today, I honor all of those who have battled this disease and all those who will. Today, I set out to do the impossible. Today, I offer you this: Do something that scares you. Do the impossible. Because nothing is impossible.

I hope to see you on the course.

1 Day and counting

Less than 24 hours from now, I will be waiting downtown with my fellow teammates for the bus to take us out to Hopkinton. I'll be getting up at the crack of dawn to pull myself out of bed and meet the rest of the DFMCers at the Marriott. From there we will head over to the "limos" (big yellow school buses) which will whisk us away to Hopkinton, where we will wait in the church for our team picture and to set up in the corrals.

People keep telling me what an amazing experience this will be. I've received all types of suggestions on what to bring and wear. Tomorrow, I will go to Hopkinton prepared for all types of weather. I will bring a disposable camera to take pictures in the church. I will not run with it. I will let my memory be my camera. I will meditate. I will have several conversations with my father. I will drink lots of water. I will anxiously await seeing my Mom, Sister and boyfriend right around the Newton Fire Station. I will kick heartbreaks a** with the help of Chet. I will see Susan and Marisa at the bottom of the hills and have their support to run the rest of the way in. I will enjoy the scenery on route. I will enjoy hearing the screaming fans. I will listen to my body. I will chat with my fellow runners. I will drink water at every water stop. I will eat lots of gu. I will look up at the camera and smile proudly when I cross the finish line.

Tomorrow, I will run the Boston Marathon.

And the number is.......22004

22004.Yes, that's right. That is the number I will proudly be sporting on Monday. I received my number a few weeks ago during my "funk". I didn't write about it then, but I realize with only a few days to go I need to write about my number and what it means to me.

I would like to start by saying I owe this blog post to Lindsey. Lindsey and I have a special bond -at least I think so. We are both tribe members, both have gastrointestinal issues, and both lost someone we love to cancer within the last year. Lindsey is running for her aunt who passed away about a week before my father. I saw Lindsey on the one year anniversary of her aunt's passing and did not understand how I would feel one week later. Lindsey reached out to me on the anniversary of my father's death after having only met me a few times.

When we received out numbers, she was the first person to message me. She sent me a gchat and was so pumped. Lindsey will proudly be wearing 22018. A number to celebrate our Jewish heritage.

I was in my funk when we got our numbers and I was skeptical to look. I thought there is no way I could possibly have gotten my number: and there is was looking me in the face: 4. Four has been my soccer number since high school. If I couldn't wear four, I wanted to wear a multiple of four or a number that had four in it. Something at that moment was a sign that this is what I am supposed to do.

What does four mean? There are four seasons, four directions, four elements. Four represent solidity, calmness, and home. Four is the only number in the English language for which the number of letters in its name is equal to the number itself. It is a number of grounding.

It also seems important to mention that the Marathon falls two days after Passover starts this year. Four is a significant number for Passover:
The Four Cups.
The Four Questions .
The Four Sons to be dealt with on Passover.
The Four Expressions of Redemption to be said on Passover.

And finally my favorite one: In soccer, number 4 is often assigned to a centre back and a number of luck (which is the position I player in high school).

(for more on four visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4_(number)

Why I continue to wear the number four and love that number so much will remain a mystery. But as luck and fate would have it, I will be proudly sporting 22004 on Monday.

The Biggest Loser and The Biggest Winner

While Brenda and I were both injured, we seemed to always find ourselves at the gym pounding away on the arc trainer on Tuesday nights. It was one of the first times that we worked out together that I realized that we would be friends for life (at least I hope). It was a Tuesday when the Biggest Loser came on. I sheepishly asked her if it was ok if we talked during the commercials and watched the show. To my surprise, Brenda said she liked the show also. We have been watching together or at least talking about it ever since.

On Tuesday, we went to Brenda's place to watch the finale. We chatted as we watched the show and cheered on our favorite contestants (I was especially excited when Bernie won the player-at-home money).

As the Finale neared the trainers got up to speak. Jillian was asked how important it was for the winner this year to be a woman. Her response struck a cord with both Brenda and I. "Make impossible your favorite word. Welcome the challenge because when you bring your heart and mind to your intention there's nothing that you can't accomplish."

On Monday, I will take on this challenge with all 500+ of my DFMC teammates by my side. My heart and mind will be thinking about my father and my grandmother, as well as all of the people who have faced cancer. When my IT Band aches I will focus on the goal of raising money for cancer. I will focus on the goal of achieving the impossible. I will look into the smiling faces of all the amazing people I have met. I will see my mom before the hills and tell her I love her. I will not let Heartbreak hill break me. I will cross that finish line with my arms raised proudly and a smile on my face. I will make the impossible happen on Monday, April 21, 2008.

Food for thought.....

By this time next Monday, I will have already run at least 6-9 miles (depending when I cross the start line) of the 112th Boston Marathon. Deep Breath....

Welcome to Hopkinton

I decided today to do something that I had debated for awhile: drive the marathon route from Hopkinton into Boston. Chet agreed to take the journey with me and drove the Mini out to Hopkinton. The weather was sprinkling, windy, and cold when we left, but as we got on the Pike (the Mass Pike-route 90) a sliver of sunshine looked down on the car. I looked around for a rainbow but could not find one. As we were driving out to Hopkinton, I felt as if maybe we were not supposed to take the trip: there was an accident on the exit ramp we needed to take, Chet and I kept arguing about stupid things (sorry to air our dirty laundry), and the weather was not cooperating. Somehow we made it out there, in one piece, and we began our journey.

The Boston Marathon start line is the smallest start line of any marathon: 39 feet across. When Chet and I drove up to it, I had to ask is this really it? I looked around at the sites of Hopkinton: the cemetery to the left, One Ash Street ahead, and the World War 1 memorial on the right. We began our journey.

We looked for spots that would be easy for my family friends to watch me run. I noticed that there is a hill about 1 mile after you start. Chet noticed the mile markers on the roads (on the median lines) and even some water stop signs. I found out the Framingham is a little bit more industrial than I expected. I was struck by how cute downtown Natick is. We drove through the "tunnel of love" (Wellesley College). We stopped and had lunch in Wellesley at Rosie's Bakery. We drove past the Woodland T-stop and I finally got my bearings. I finally had a chance to figure out where the JOhnny Kelly Statue is.

Through this all I had a small sense of anxiety, but more excitement. I wasn't overwhelmed but more noticing what I would need to do. Surprisingly, Chet stated he wanted to run the hills with me. I definitely accepted the offer.

We decided that my friends Marisa and Susan (who are flying all the way out from California!!) should meet me at the Haunted Mile to run the rest of the way in. As Chet and I turned the corner to head towards Cleveland Circle, he asked whether or not I wanted to drive all the way to the finish line. I did not hesitate with my answer. I want the first time I cross that line to be on marathon day. Yes, I have run parallel to it when I've mentioned crossing it, but never "ACROSS" it. I want that to my first experience. I want it to be memorable. I want it to be the best experience ever.

Chet and I arrived home after a long drive and I laced up my running shoes. AS I got ready to do one of my last runs before the marathon, I noticed the sun shining brightly through our windows. Despite the cold and the wind. I ran 6 miles. It wasn't perfect and was honestly a little hard. I'm ok with that because in a week, I will have the most amazing run of my life. No matter what my finish time or if I finish, it will be the most amazing run of my life.

Finding my zen

Reading through my past posts, one thing I noticed was how scared I have been about this upcoming adventure. I've been scared about completing it. I've been worried about my fitness level and at times I have questioned why I am doing this.

This past week all those fears have dissipated. I've truly reached a state of zen. I'm so excited to do this race and I know that there is nothing else that will prepare me to finish. I've worked out as hard as I can. I've done a good job fundraising. I've met amazing people.

I'm at peace with this whole adventure. I've had a great run (pun completely intended) and I am ready to see the finish line. I am ready to do the impossible and "Dream the impossible Dream". I am ready to conquer the hills. I'm ready for the sweat, the blood, and the tears (ok maybe not the blood). I'm ready to proudly wear my Dana-Farber bib and I'm excited to proudly wear number 22004 (more on that later).

I am ready for the 112th Boston Marathon.

A great run

What defines a great run? A long run? A fast run?

For me, a great run is being able to run. After being injured for so long, being able to get in even a few pain-free miles is a great run.

April 2, 2008: My run started out with my Mom dropping me at the cemetery to visit my Dad. Another DFMC runner had said he always stopped at the cemetery when he ran so as to remember why he was running with DFMC. I walked up to his grave and noticed that the flowers my Mom left him on St. Patrick's day were still there. The red roses and the green carnation bleed into the moist ground. I spoke to my Dad for a few minutes and asked him for strength. Strength to do my best that day. Strength to run the best run I can on Marathon Monday. After a few minutes, I realized it was time to leave. I knew if I stayed longer I would never be able to run. I knew the tears would overwhelm me (as well as the cold wind). I started my run doing a combination run/walk. My first few miles flew by and before I knew it I was at my Dad's office. I stopped at my Dad's office only briefly to say hello, get some water and blow my nose. As I started my run again, I realized that stopping may not have been the best idea. I was cold, but knew I had a few more miles to run to get home. I ran the "beach way", the road that leads to my house that follows Long Island Sound. My Dad and Mom would always ask us which way we wanted to go. Without fail, we always said the beach way. I ran past the cottage my Mom, Dad, sister, and dog lived in when my father burned down our kitchen. I ran....

When I neared my house, I realized I wasn't done running. I continued to follow the road towards the golf course. At one point I heard a woman comment on the fact I was wearing shorts (she may have used the word crazy). Another 1.5 miles and I was near my house. I ran the last 15 minutes straight through and ended up running 8.5 miles.

I visited all of my Dad's favorite places. I know my Dad was with me during my run, just as I know he will be there on Monday, April 21st. I know he is always with me, giving me the inner strength I need to succeed in everything I do: even conquering a marathon.

Find your grail

Last week my sister Sandra presented me with a marathon training CD (better late than never).

Here is the play list:

"Find your grail", Spamalot
"Good vibrations", Beach Boys
"Raspberry beret", Prince
"We didn't start the fire", Billy Joel
"One way or another", Blondie
"Sex and candy", Marcy Playground
"Where'd you go?", Might Might Bosstones
"Sweetest thing", U2
"Any dream will do", Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat
"All star", Smash Mouth
"Life is a Highway", Tom Cochrane
"Sunday Bloody Sunday", U2
"Manic Monday", The Bangles
"Come on Eileen", Dexy's Midnight Runners
"Take me out", Franz Ferdinand
"Always look on the bright side of life", Spamalot
"Sweet Caroline", Neil Diamond
"When you believe", Mariah Carey from Prince of Egypt
"Eye of the tiger", Survivor

My sister picked songs that fit me and my life perfectly. But my mother and sister had been talking about how my theme song was Find Your Grail. While I have seen Monty Python a number of times, I have not yet seen Spamalot. After listening to the song, I know it is the next musical I must see.

So what is my grail? My grail is running this marathon. My grail is my father and my grandmother. My grail is being able to do the impossible and being able to say I conquered my fears. My grail is all the people who have fought cancer, who are fighting cancer, and who will fight cancer in the future. My grail is running this marathon to fight cancer.

Hitting the Wall

This weekend the DFMC runners are scheduled to run 20-22 miles. Unfortunately, I will not be able to join them because I have to work both Saturday and Sunday for our Accepted Students' Receptions. I decided the only way I was going to get the mileage in would be to spend all day Friday at the gym. I was in Connecticut again for work on Thursday evening and drove back to Boston on Friday morning. My intention was to leave around 5:30am, but I did not end up leaving until 7:45am. My knee was bothering me in the car but I figured it was stiff from all the driving.

I got to the gym a little before noon and started my workout. I decided to do a combination of arc trainer and running as suggested by a few DFMCers on Wednesday. I started out strong 45 minutes arc trainer, 35 minutes run/walk on the treadmill. My IT Band was definitely sore, but I pushed through the pain. I was watching Kill Bill Volume 1 and the fight scenes helped push me harder.

My work out was this:
45 minutes arc trainer
35 minutes run/walk
1 packet mint chocolate Gu

45 minutes arc trainer
35 minutes run/walk
1 packet Tri-Berry Gu

45 minutes arc trainer

And then I hit my wall. I stopped the arc trainer to move back to the treadmill. I could barely move. The woman next to me asked me about the gu and the Gatorade mixture I was drinking. I explained that I was training for the marathon. As soon as I stopped, I started freezing. I tried to get on the treadmill and I couldn't run. My knee was killing me. I was soaked in sweat-everything was soaked: my shorts, my shirt, my sports bra. I pulled off my shirt b/c I couldn't bare the feeling of the cold damp shirt. I even took another GU. Nothing seemed to work.

I tried to get on the treadmill twice more, even just to walk for an hour. My legs refused.

I felt defeated. I was so excited to run and I had been feeling good all week, especially after my run on Wednesday morning. I choked back tears, but I just couldn't leave the gym after only 3hours and 25 minutes!! I got on the bike for another 30 minutes and then I stretched. I used to foam roller for my legs which did not seem to help. I laid down on the mat to do a full body stretch and wasn't sure I was going to be able to get up.

I went into the locker room grabbed my cell phone and did the only thing I could think to do. I called Chet and fought back tears. I felt emotionally and physically beat up. I could barely think. I decided to stretch more in the steam room and clear my head. The thing I did do before I went in the steam room was weigh myself. In order to see how much you sweat and how much water you lose, you are supposed to weigh yourself before you workout, workout and not drink water, and reweigh yourself. I didn't do the first part of it, but I did weigh myself again and I was several pound lighter. Clearly I was dehydrated.

After I stretched and showered, I got ready to leave. I sat down to eat some food and called Chet. I also made the mistake of checking my work email. I had several emails that needed to be dealt with immediately, including one that made me really frustrated and angry. I called Chet back and told him that I needed to go to the office. He agreed to meet me at the subway and go with me. As I sat their waiting for him, I had all these negative thoughts. I was feeling how I've felt the last two weeks. Chet showed up and I lost it. I couldn't talk and when I did I started crying. Chet was the voice of reason and comfort as I sat on the subway trying to form words through my tears.

I'm so emotionally drained that I'm not sure how to push forward. The wall sucks, but at least I know what it feels like. I need to figure out how to push through it. There were many factors yesterday that added to the wall (driving back and forth to Connecticut, not eating enough, not drinking enough). I know it will be different on Marathon Day when the crowds are there and the adrenaline is going. I'm just scared about not making it to the big day. Please let me make it to the big dance in one piece. Please let my knee and IT Band heal. Please help me push through the wall. Please help me complete this crazy adventure.

Subway Etiquette

This entry was written during my funk last week. I had an awful subway ride into work and this is what came of it. Although I'm in a much better place this week since my inner peace and happiness has returned, I thought it only appropriate to include it now. Hope you have a good laugh!!!

Perhaps it is me being overly sensitive, but people are inconsiderate and oblivious. I'm sick of being squished into subway seats, having people step on me, hit me with their bags, and have excessively loud cell phone conversations. So to remedy these problems, I have created a new set of rules for the T....

# 1) If you are too large to fit into one seat, do not take up two seats. You are required to stand and for that matter, you should be exercising more and eating less.

# 2) If you fail to observe rule #1 and decide to sit, the passenger on whom you are sitting has every right to elbow you. Repeatedly.

# 3) If you are sick or bleeding-please stay home. Everyone on that train will have to breathe your sick air. Please cover your mouth when you cough, please sneeze into a tissue, elbow, anywhere but your hand. And please carry sanitizing lotion.

#4) If you feel it necessary to ignore #3, please do not put your germy hands all over everything on the train and please do not sneeze on anyone.

#5) If you must talk on your cell phone (and we all do it), please be aware of your volume. There are inside and outside voices-please use the appropriate one for the subway (psst...that's your inside voice). I do not need or want to hear about your weekend escapades.

#6) Please be aware of your surroundings. Thousands of people commute to work using public transportation. Please realize you are not the only one-Your elbow, bag, and purse are often in someone else's face, eyes, stomach, chest, etc. If you can not be responsible or aware of your personal belongings or space, please go back to middle school where no one was aware of their bodies.

#7) Please let all passengers off the train before you board. If you are in such a rush and need to push people out of the way to get that perfect seat, please wait until an empty train arrives. You may be waiting all eternity, but at least you will not be in any one's way.

If you are unable to comply with these rules, you will be immediately removed from the subway by ME!!! I will have no problem telling you where to find a good gym, sending you to the sick ward, telling you where to shove your phone, bag, whatever you just stuck into my eye, or simply pushing you back down the stairs.

REMEMBER!!! Courtesy Counts.

Thank you for your patience and thank you for riding the T.

An apology

Dear Faithful Readers,

I owe you all an apology. I have not posted in over a week and a half. While I have had plenty of ideas for posts and even some milestones to share, I have simply been unable to write. The reasons for my lack of words cannot be traced to one thing. Perhaps it is because I'm stressed about work. Perhaps it is because I am frustrated with my injuries. Perhaps it is because I've lost the other original member of team injured, my workout partner Brenda (Brenda, I am so glad you can run again!!!) Perhaps it is because all I want to do is give up and run away. Perhaps it is because I didn't really grieve for my Dad on his birthday. I've been questioning everything in my life, even the things I am sure of. Yes, my friends I have been in a funk.

There is no other way to describe it. I've really wanted to walk away from everything and wash my hands clean. My friend Marisa agreed to run away with me to a Caribbean Island and leave it all behind. I know that isn't a solution but I've been uncertain about what else to do. I have lost sight of why I am training for this marathon and often feel like I am just going through the motions.

Today, though I had a moment of peace. Perhaps this was because I was aways from all of the stress. This morning, I was driving back to Boston from my Mom's house. Somewhere between Connecticut and Massachusetts, I had a feeling that I haven't had in quite sometime: peace and tranquility. I'm not sure how long this feeling will last or if it will, but for the last few hours it has all started make sense again. I'm not stressed about the marathon. I'm not worried about it. I'm actually kind of excited. I know I'm not in the same shape I was a month ago before I stopped running. I know that this race will take me longer than anticipated. I even know there is a slim chance I might not finish. But I'm OK with whatever comes my way on April 21, 2008. And to reward myself, I went for a run.

Yes, you read that right. I am back on the roads. I only ran about 3 miles today but it felt great. A little trouble with my knee on the hill, sore hamstrings, but a feeling of freedom. A feeling of peace. A feeling that no one will ever be able to take from me.

Today, I've found myself again. I am back. There may be more obstacles. There will definitely be more tears. All I need to remember is this feeling.

And so to my faithful readers, thank you for your on going support. I look forward to sharing the new, renewed Marcy with you.

Birthday wishes and green jello shots

This blog post started out as a letter to my father. His birthday was March 15th and his favorite holiday, St. Patrick's Day was two days later. When I sat down to write the post, I couldn't figure out what to say. This was all I came up with:

Happy Belated Birthday, Dad!! How does it feel to be 59, you old man?!?! You don't look a day over.....hmmmm...58!!!. Sorry for the belated birthday wishes...I had a dessert and drinks party on Saturday, March 15th (your birthday). The party was successful. We raised over $500 for Dana-Farber!!! It was a great.

And then I blanked. All last week I had thoughts of what I wanted to say to him. But when it came down to writing it-nothing came out. My friend Lauren who is also a DFMC member put it the best in her Valentine's Day blog: http://krzyrunner.blogspot.com/2008/02/call-of-whoopie.html. Lauren says that it is not the days you expect to be difficult, but rather those random moments when you think of the person that hit you so hard.

One of my Dad's friends told me that there are days when he thinks about him all day and then there are days when he is so busy he doesn't even enter his thoughts. I know how much my Dad meant to so many people and that is evident by the donations I have received. I miss him so much and some days are better than others. It is those random days that get to me: when a song comes on my IPOD or I see a father's day card. Or when I just want to ask him what he had to eat for lunch (something that became our routine in the end). It hits me that I do not have a Dad who is physically present anymore.

So although my birthday letter to my Dad was a flop, I did exactly what he would have wanted on his birthday. I had a dessert and drinks fundraising party. I raised over $500 that day alone for Dana-Farber. I know he was there that day, enjoying the party. It was exactly the type of party he would have thrown for himself. I know he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

A belated happy birthday Dad. I love you.

To my body

To my body,

I know that we have never seen eye-to-eye. It started off when I was born with a diaphragmatic hernia and flat feet. But I am asking you, begging you, pleading with you to please, please, please get better. I know you are mad at me for pushing beyond my limits and not listening to my aches and pains. I am sorry. You have always been so resilient. I thought that I could handle the grueling hours of training. I thought I was stronger than a little IT band and a toe.

Now don't get me wrong. I am in the best shape of my life. I am grateful for the progress we have made thus far. Still, I am begging you and I promise to do anything it takes to get better. I'll....I'll.....I'll even give up soccer (Did I just say that?!?!?) I'll workout more or less-which ever I need. I'll keep the house clean. I'll sleep more. I'll drink less...I'll do anything.

Body, how I heal emotionally if I can't heal physically??

Perhaps this is part of the challenge. Perhaps you and my mind decided this would be a good test, a fun experiment. A test of will, a test if integrity, a test of character. I honor your test and I challenge you to make me stronger, make me faster, make me better.

But please, above all-make me ready for this marathon.

Walk the Line

I will be the first to admit that I am hard on myself. I am my own worst critic. Perhaps this is why over the last two and a half weeks of not running I have started to question myself. I feel like my running could have gone smoother if I had taken care of my toe in October when the injury occurred, I wonder if I am buying the right shoes, if I'm eating enough or too much, and how it is possible that in just 6 weeks that I will be on the course running the craziest race of my life.

I have such amazing support and people who are behind me 100% of the way. I know that part of my emotions are due to my fear of failing. I am one of those people who completes everything I tackle and I am also a perfectionist. I have a hard time stepping back and just taking things in stride. But I am trying....

Yesterday, I decided to go to Marathon Sports on Boylston and buy a new pair of sneakers, the shoes I will be wearing to run the Marathon. Boylston Street is the last leg of the marathon and the store is right at the finish line of the marathon, across from the Boston Public Library. I took the bus over to the store. As the 39 bus turned down Boylston, I started wondering What am I so scared of? I will do the best I can and that is all I can ask. I also had a moment of calm knowing that when I run this road in a few weeks, there will be no cars, no buses, and no traffic. Just me, thousands of runners, thousands of screaming fans, and the jumbo tron.

When I got off the bus, I knew there was one more thing I had to do. I walked across the finish line. I looked at the faded paint, the BAA logo worn with the weather from over the last year and I smiled. I can't wait to see the finish line brightly painted. I can't wait to see the clock ticking down and I can't wait to run my first marathon.

The Comedy of Errors

I'm trying to learn to laugh at myself, but that's not an easy task. This morning has truly been filled with errors. Stemming from first thing this morning....

I woke up at 4:54am on Tuesday morning so that I could get ready to meet Brenda at the gym. The first train out of Porter Square was at 5:21am. I was aiming as best I could to make that train. I packed my bags and headed to the subway. I arrived on the platform at 5:30am. After sitting on the bench for about 5 minutes, I realized I had forgotten my pedometer. (The school that I work for is doing a fitness challenge. I'm pretty set to win the whole thing!!! More on that in another post.) I also realized that I didn't have another set of clean clothes to wear for Physical Therapy tonight. So I headed home...and as I was heading up the escalator they called the subway going into the city. Ugh....

I got home and ran around the house trying to get stuff together. I ran into the bedroom trying to find my pedometer in the dark. Chet didn't even stir as I dropped stuff on the floor.

I walked back to the subway and climbed aboard the train to the city. The worst part of the whole thing was I walked past the Cambridge branch of my gym like four times. I really wanted to meet Brenda though. I have great workouts when I am with her and I really needed that motivation.

I arrived at the gym at 6:25am and there was Brenda smiling and bright eyed on the Arc Trainer. She was already 40 minutes through her workout. I hopped on the machine next to her and we started chatting. It was great to have someone to workout with again after a few days apart.

Around 20 minutes into my workout, exhaustion and dehydration started to set in. I was having a really hard time continuing my workout and definitely considered giving up. Brenda was with me for about half of the workout and then headed upstairs to get ready for work. I did finish an hour of cardio.

I went to the locker room to change and get ready for work. I went to shower and hung my towel on the hook outside the shower. My towel had a mind of its own and I had to wrestle with it to stay put. When I finally finished my shower, I went to reach for it and it was on the floor. Damn Towel!!!

The rest of my day was ok. I had a very busy day in the office followed by a lengthy Physical Therapy session. Shellie worked me pretty hard but I left feeling good and optimistic (plus they put electrodes on my leg-cool!!!). I am really ready for someone to release me back onto the roads.

After an exhausting day of errors, I went home and had dinner with Chet. I know that there will be days filled with more errors. I know there will be days when I am frustrated with myself and the world. But I am learning to laugh...and I made sure I had my pedometer on this morning (Wednesday) when I left for work.

Ms. Unromantic Gets Romantic

For those of you who know me (or just happened to read my Valentine's Day blog), I am a self-proclaimed unromantic. That is not to say that I do not like romance or know what it is...it just isn't me. I find things that are nontraditional romantic (getting a Garmin watch for my birthday was the BEST present ever).

Saturday, March 8th marked Chet's and my 5th year anniversary (not married, just dating for that long). Time has flown by, some of it amazing, some of it not so great. But all relationships have their ups and downs. I have a philosophy about relationships; here it goes....

No relationship is perfect. There is no perfect person out there. Everyone has baggage and it is all about how your baggage matches with someone else's baggage.

I know that training for a marathon has put strain on the amount of time I spend with Chet. He has been more than understanding and supportive, but I can tell how frustrating it is for him to never see me. I spend 2-3 hours at the gym and then come home and fall asleep on the couch. I know other people struggle with being a "Marathon Widower" (even if just for a few months). I've often joked with Chet that he is my soccer mom as well (he hates that). But here is something I know after five years.....we have been through so much. From family issues, to job struggles, to illnesses, to my father's death, and now to the Marathon. I know if we can survive a marathon we can survive anything. And, so on our five year anniversary all I can say is I love you Chet and I know that you will always be there cheering me on.

This is all because of a TOE???

I start this blog by stating two facts about myself: 1) I am a klutz and 2) I am injury prone.

Those of you who have been following my blog (or have the pleasure of listening to me complain) know that I have been having knee pain since the end of January (see my post from January 28th). The injury has definitely sidelined me a bit, but I have still been going to the gym and doing other cardio and I even ran a half-marathon (in hindsight probably a stupid idea). I finally went to Physical Therapy on Tuesday night at met with a great therapist, Shellie. She stretched my legs and hips to figure out where the pain was. She watched me walk, She checked my flexibility, and then she got to my feet.

In my previous life (IE: Before this Marathon took over my life), I was a soccer player. Let me rephrase that....I LOVED Soccer. I used to play 3-4 times a week. When I was chosen to run Boston with DFMC, I gave up soccer to focus on running (and avoid injury). My last soccer game to date was October 28th, 2007. During the game, a player from the other team planted on my big right toe and it has never healed or been the same. I had it x-rayed and there were luckily no breaks, it was just badly jammed.

As Shellie was moving my legs and feet, I mentioned to her about my toe. She worked on my toe for 10 minutes, massaging it and trying to release it. Her response, "Well this may be part of the problem." A TOE?? Something so small but so powerful. Who knew that one last game of soccer would impact my running so much.

My grandmother has made the suggestion on a number of occasions, "Take up Tiddlywinks or maybe golf. You can't hurt yourself playing those."

Wanna bet??

Three hours later.....

I am one of those people who can go to the gym and spend about two hours between my cardio and strength training. Time flies by during my workouts. But I often wondered about people who would go and spend 3+ hours at the gym. How did they find time? Did they have jobs? Why did they need to spend a million hours? Was it healthy for them or was it an obsession? Were they sane? And then I became one of them yesterday.....

Brenda and I met at Healthworks yesterday afternoon around 3pm to do our long workout. Brenda and I each spent 3 hours on the arc trainer, chatting the whole time. At around two hours, I took a break to use the bathroom and grab some more water. I wondered if I was really going to be able to finish three hours or more on the machine. Brenda was still plugging away and I realized that I had to keep going. She stayed so positive the whole time, even though her feet hurt and she was exhausted (check out her account of yesterday at marathonbrenda.blogspot.com). Thanks Brenda for being such a great workout partner and friend. I can't wait to run together again.

I've been wondering lately whether or not I can actually do this. We have seven weeks until the marathon (even typing that makes me sick to my stomach). I'm scared and my fear is getting the best of me. I'm such a competitive person and a perfectionist. I try to remind myself that running is not about anyone except for myself. It is about me finishing the impossible. It is about me honoring my Dad and my grandmother. It is about (to quote Adidas) "Three words that every runner lives to say: I finished Boston". God, I hope I can!!!

Injured runners unite!!!

Humans are not meant to run marathons....think about it...running hundreds and hundreds of miles wears on your joints, bones, muscles and your sanity.

During this whole process, I have had good runs, I have had bad runs. I have felt great, I have been in pain. I have been jealous of those who are injury free. I've kicked myself in the butt for being jealous when those are the people who are supporting me most (thanks Lindsey and Lauren). I've felt separate from the group because I can't run. I've wanted to give up. I've felt like I am alone, wallowing in my injury. I've wondered if I will ever make it to April 21, 2008. And then I met the others....

There are a number of runners on the DFMC team who are injured, many who are unable to run or even walk. Meeting these runners and working out with them has given me a stronger sense of community. We compare notes from Jack, compare injuries, discuss frustrations, and know that there is someone else out there who is having the same emotional struggle. Last weekend I ran with two women, Cat who is also having knee problems and Lindsey, who was just getting over the flu. She, Lindsey, and I ran 8.5 miles together. We did a run/walk (they humored me by doing it) and had a great time together. Unfortunately, two hours after my run my knee cramped up. It was still great to run with two amazing women who were supportive the entire run.

Last night I worked out with Brenda, another DFMC-er. Brenda has been having shin pain for several weeks. Her pain was so bad last week that she could barely walk. She and I went to Healthworks last night and worked out on the Arc Trainer. While I did the majority of my workout before she arrived, it was such a great support to have someone on the machine next to me. We talked to whole time and I got to know a new friend. I'm looking forward to our indoor workout this weekend. I'm looking forward to running together again in the next few weeks and I am looking forward to finishing the marathon together, as healthy and strong as possible.

Just don't think I'll ever get over you

Today marks the one year calendar anniversary of my father's death. (Yes, that means this posting is going to be sad and depressing). I preface this email by saying that I should have written it a few days ago when the words were flowing through my head. This morning they seem to be sloshing around.

On Monday evening, I went to the gym. I did 30 minutes of cardio on the arc trainer. During my 10 minute cool down, a song came on my IPOD which made me think of my Dad. It made me realize how hard this week is going to be. It made me realize that no matter how hard I try to avoid it, I have to deal with the reality that he is gone. Life needs to continue (which is what he would have wanted), but I will never forget him. How do you forget someone you love?

February 17, 2007: Chet and I drive down to Connecticut to visit with my family for the long weekend. I do not feel any sense of urgency to get down there. We go to visit my Mom at work on the way down. I walk into my parents house and head upstairs to their bedroom. My aunt (my Dad's sister), Marjorie (we call her Winkie) is there with him. She says to my Dad as he's laying in bed, "Look whose home? Your wife Helen and..." He sits up, looks straight at me and says "MARPY" (the name my youngest sister used to call me before she could pronounce Cs), totally ignoring my Mom in the process. He spends the rest of the 17th in and out of sleep. In the middle of the night we hear a thud and my mother yell, "OH s***, Arnold". Chet and I immediately jump out of bed and run down the hallway to find my Dad in the closet sprawled on the floor. He had gotten up in the middle of the night and had fallen.

February 18, 2007: We get up in the morning to have a family meeting. We begin to discuss what our plans are to take care of my Dad. A few minutes later we hear footsteps on the stairs. My Dad, who could barely get out of bed the day before, is walking down stairs to join us for breakfast. They say there is clarity before death, and while I'm not sure if my Dad was clear (he thought he was on a cruise ship for awhile and came downstairs dressed for the boat), he ate, he was semi-coherent, and even funny.

Later that evening, my Mom asks me to sleep in their bed with him so that I can check on him. The night before she did not sleep well (case in point the closet incident). We go to bed early and has a hard time settling down. At one point he tried to get up to see my sister Sandra. I have to explain that he will see Sandy in the morning. He falls asleep and is awakened by a dream. I go and sit by his side and ask him about his dream. He turns to me with a smile on his face, puts up his hand, wiggles his fingers, and says "Worms". He settles down and we fall asleep. About 1am, I wake up to check on him. He seems cold. I run and get Chet who helps me check on him. My Dad is still breathing. Chet tells me to go back to sleep and we will deal with it in the morning. My Dad has already fallen into a coma by this point.

When I woke up on the 19th, I went down told my Mom my biggest fears. These fears were only confirmed when the medical staff came to check on him. They brought him up to the hospital. His stay in the hospital, although only a day, was one of the most amazing experiences ever. He was surrounded by friends and family. People were laughing, people were crying. It is exactly how he would have wanted it. My mom, my aunt and I slept in the hospital that night. It is comforting to know that I spent his last night with him.

My Dad passed away on February 20, 2007. It is cliche to say that he died peacefully but he did. No long drawn out scene, just a few shallow breaths surrounded by a few family memebers and friends.

As I sit here writting this a year later, I am filled with a mix of emotions. Tears stream down my face, a smile appears on my face, and I've even laughed a few times. I miss my Dad so much. I know he's here with me in spirit but it's not the same. I will never be able to hug him, never be able to listen to him sing off key, and never be able to call him "Stupid Daddy" to his face.

The song on my IPOD earlier this week was "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" by Colin Hay. The lyrics to this song are as follows:

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place thats far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
Don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived til I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
No longer moved to drink strong whiskey
I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived 'til I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
A face that dances and it haunts me
With laughter still ringin in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
even, even after all these years
I don't want you thinkin that I don't get asked to dinner
Cuz I'm here to say that I sometimes do
And even though I may seem to feel a touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived til I was a hundred and two
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

I miss you Dad.

A Half to Remember (a week late)

The alarm sounds at 6am. Must get out of bed, Must get ready. It is a Sunday morning; all I want to do is sleep. Must eat before I run. Must bring everything I need.

7:03am start time (who starts a race that early???). The gun goes off and we begin. I'm feeling good. The course loops around at around mile 1.5 and I see Chet. I run over to him scream " I love you" and keep running.

Miles 3: My knee starts to hurt. I've been nursing an injury for a few weeks and it seems to have acted up. I am supposed to be doing a run/walk, but I am instead just running. I decide at that point to walk for at least a minute when I see each mile marker.

Mile 5.5: I stop to go to the bathroom. I've had to pee since the beginning of the race and the lines at the port-o-potties before mile 5.5 were too long. I start running again and then I get my sign. I hear this woman saying, "We are going to start running again in thirty seconds". I catch up to this group and realize I NEED to join them. The only way that I am going to get through this race is if I follow Jack's instructions and do a run/walk plan. We start chatting and I meet Vickie and Amy (and a few guys whose name I don't remember). They ask my name (Marcy) and where I am from (Boston). All of a sudden they get really excited, "We have a Marcy from Boston running with us also!!! I can't wait for her to meet you."

The miles fly by...I chat with the woman about their lives, about training, being part of Team In Training, and life. I find out the Vickie just celebrated her 50th birthday (I can only hope I look that good at 50), Amy is a pediatrician, and the other Marcy from Boston moved down to Birmingham 1.5 years ago and loves it.

Somewhere around mile 8, we say good-bye to Vickie and Amy. I wish them well on the marathon. Vickie tells me to stick around after the race so we can all get a picture together and swap email addresses. I realize at this moment that I've found these new friends for a reason. I truly believe that my Dad was watching over me on Sunday, February 10, 2008. It is at this point we start discussing why they are all running for charities. I share why I will be running Boston this year with DFMC. I also tell them that I believe that my Dad brought them to me (or me to them) that day. Smiles of understanding fill everyone's faces and we continue running.

I hear the other Marcy telling me how close we are to the finish. I start to sprint around the corner. I see Chet and scream his name. I see him fumbling with the camera and I run past. I see the clock ticking down around 2:21. They call out the other Marcy's name (she later says to me that she wished they had called out mine as well). And then it is over.

I'm excited by my run. I feel great and I've made great new friends. Sadly, I never see Vickie or Amy again. I run into other Marcy once at the post-race bash. Yet, I am completely indebted to these amazing people for helping me run my second half ever...and.....I finished in 2:19:01!!! That is walking and injured!!!

It gave me new hope for Boston. It gave me the reassurance that I can do this. It reminded me why I am doing this in the first place.

Happy un-valentine's day!!!

I'll come out and say it: Valentine's Day is a Hallmark created holiday!!! Why on earth should there be one day a year where people are super nice to each other, give each other candy/chocolate/sugar, spend way too much on flowers that have been marked up 200%, and pretend like nothing ever goes wrong in their relationships...all I have to say is Bah Humbug!!!

I should clarify that I have been in a relationship with the same person for almost five years. Last Valentine's day, Chet got stuck in New Hampshire in the Valentine's Day blizzard of '07. By the time he got home it was late, so we sat on the couch watched TV and ate frozen soy cheese pizza!!! It was the best V-day ever. Chet also offered to make dinner tonight when I get home...what a guy!!!

So this Valentine's day, I am going to join my fellow DFMC teammates at Crossroads for a run. Since I'm still in recovery mode from the Birminham Half (more on that in my next post), I will not run all 9 miles tonight, maybe 5 or so. But I will do something healthy for my heart. I will do something healthy for my body. And I will love the fact that today is just like any other day (except maybe I ate a bit too much candy).

Today its your birthday!!

29...wow, where did the time go? If you had asked me a few years ago what I thought of getting older, I would have said I wasn't ready. Well here I am 29 today and I am ready. I am ready for whatever comes my way. Last year was a difficult year filled with sadness and loss. But I am ready for the next phase in my life. I am ready to take on the challenges of getting older and I am ready to live my life.

So bring it on...and I'm going to start with running the Mercedes Half-Marathon in Birmingham, AL on Sunday, February 10th. Age is just a number and if I have learned anything from my family it is to live life to the fullest, do the things you love, and never look back.

So, to be totally self-absorbed for one more second: Happy Birthday to Me!!! May my life be filled with happiness and joy. May your sorrow be followed by beauty and may you always drink a great bottle of wine.

A Northerner heads South

Running shoes? check.

Water belt? check.

Inhaler? check.

Gu? check

A suit case that is full of running gear? check.

SO here I am trying to figure out what to pack so that I can leave to go to Alabama tomorrow morning. Yes, Alabama. Chet and I will be traveling very early tomorrow morning to Birmingham to spend the weekend with his aunt and uncle. On Sunday, I will get up at the crack of dawn to run the Mercedes Half-Marathon. I'm not very good at packing (which is why it is 11pm here and I will be getting up in 4 hours) and to try and figure out what to bring is a nightmare. I'm sure I've over packed. I'm sure I will not wear half the stuff I brought, but I'd rather be safe than sorry...

Which reminds me...where are my running gloves? Did I pack the Advil? Oh well, back to packing...wish me luck!!!

The Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge Team

People have been asking me what my experience has been like thus far. The answer is that words can not describe this experience. I know my previous posts have been about the struggles of training and my frustration, but all in all this experience is amazing.

Part of what makes this experience so difficult to describe is the support and excitement of my fellow teammates. Every person I meet is so amazing. Everyone has great ideas and great suggestions for fundraising and running. Everyone is there for the same purpose and it makes the process so much smoother.

At our DFMC meeting last night, I got some great ideas about fundraising from my teammates. Some ideas were things that had never crossed my mind. At first I thought, "Why hadn't I thought of these things before? These would be so great. ". I was somewhat frustrated with myself for not being more creative....and then I stopped myself. I realized that these teammates were being kind enough to share their amazing ideas. I realized that we all have different ways of fundraising and reaching out to people. I realized that although my fundraising has slowed down I have several good ideas in place to get it started again.

After the fundraising discussion, Jack got up to speak. He started talking about training, being injured, being frustrated and then asked where I was in the crowd. I was in total shock. He recapped for everyone our emails the last week, as well as my blog posting from Sunday. I do not get embarrassed easily and I was definitely blushing. I realized at that point (as my teammates were looking at me smiling and nodding) that so many people are feeling the same way I am. This is a first time experience for so many of us. I was reminded last night again that we are all in this together-whether we run 6 min/miles or 12 min/miles.

What is this experience like for me? Indescribable.

Too many things running through my head....

I've had a very strange and frustrating week: I'm overwhelmed at work, I'm frustrated with not running at all this week (due to injury), and I sent out fundraising emails to 30+ people this week and had no responses.

I'm trying to stay positive. I'm trying to remember that being stressed, injured, exhausted, overwhelmed happens to everyone. I'm trying to focus on the good things and trying to fix the bad things or things that are overwhelming. I'm trying to learn what I can control and what I can't control. I'm trying to remember that I have people in my life who love me and support me. I need to turn to them more when I have one of those days...

Now onto a few specifics of my weekend....

I ran for the first time in almost a week yesterday. It was on the treadmill. It was really slow, but I ran for 25 minutes and felt great!!!

I've been frustrated about not running all week. I've been questioning why I am doing this....why I am pushing myself so much and I've honestly lost my focus of my I applied in the first place. Two things have happened in less than 24 hours to remind me why I wanted to do this. I went to the Porter Square Book Store last night while I was waiting for Bre to meet me (great local bookstore-check it out). I wanted to check out the running books and picked up a book called "26 Miles to Boston" by Michael Connelly. I read the back cover and flipped open the book. The page I openned to was a picture of Jack Fultz, who is the DFMC marathon coach. Jack is the 1976 Boston Marathon winner. It is a picture of him at mile 20 being hosed down and determined to finish. For some reason, this really struck me. I'm not an elite runner. I'm not running to qualify and this may be my only marathon ever. But it reminded me that we all have our reasons to run. It was also a reminder of how much support I have to complete this task. I feel like I sometimes overwhelm Jack with emails about injuries, training, etc. He always emails me back with great suggestions and provides me with great support. Thanks Jack!!!

The other thing that happened was I had a dream last night about my Dad. In the dream, we were all at the hospital, and he was still alive. What I remember of the dream is taking to my mom about the fact that we had already had his funeral and we had already said good-bye. For some reason, even though we had buried him he was still alive. He still knew he was going to die. He still had his same sense of humor. He still joked about life and death. He was still himself. I needed to remember that I'm running in his memory. I needed to remember that I will never be done grieving and missing him. I needed to remember how much I love him and how I know he is still here with me. I needed to remember that I am doing this for him and my grandmother. I needed to remember that I am running the 112th Boston Marathon with the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge Team so that I can help to find a cure for cancer.

A little shout out...

I've met some many amazing people during the last few months of training. I'm grateful for all my new running buddies and I hope to write more about all of you as the months of training continue. I did want to specifically write about two people today. These two people have never met, have nothing to do with one another, and came into my life for very different reasons. Yet this week they have both really effected me.

My friend Marisa is a friend from college. She is originally from PA, went to Occidental College (in Los Angeles) with me, is an Environmental Consultant(I think that's her title), and lives in Pasadena with her husband. While most of our communication has been over the internet (specifically Gmail Chat), she has helped me tremendously. She helped me design my blog. She has also been so supportive and understanding of my frustration with my injuries. She keeps reminding me of all I've accomplished, even when all I can focus on is how far I have to go. I appreciate her support more than I can express in words. I know that many of her family members have had cancer and she will be in my thoughts on marathon day.

The other person is my friend Heidi who I met at the first timers run. I have not seen her in a few weeks. I emailed her yesterday to make sure she was ok only to find out that she was hit by a car while she was running last Tuesday night!!! She is ok. She went to the ER and did not have any broken bones. She is lucky, but it makes me wonder how many other runners are struck by cars and bikes. I know Heidi will rebound quickly from this (having personally been hit by a car before-it sucks) because she is strong and determined. I look forward to running with her soon and wish her a speedy recovery.

The Sound of Silence (and sneakers hitting the pavement)

We had our longest group run to date on Sunday: 16-18 miles. I was very nervous about this run. I've never run more than 14 miles. I woke up on Sunday morning to a little more than a dusting of snow. I drove the 30 minutes out to Wayland where there were 30+ runners ready to go. I started out running with a few people but as we split based on pace I ended up by myself. The course went through Wayland, Sudbury, and Concord. The snow came down and coated the streets and the trees. The course took us through a National Wildlife preserve. The course was beyond beautiful. I ran to the sound of the snow, the sound of my breath, the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement....and the pain in my right knee.

When I turned around at mile 8, I had excruciating pain in my right knee. The pain eventually subsided a little, but both knees were achy the rest of the run. I have to say it was one of the hardest runs to date. I spoke to Jack afterwards and explained to him about my knee. He thought that I strained my IT Band (iliotibial band), the fibers that run on the outside of the thigh from the glutes to the knee. His solution was to take a week off from running...still do cardio and work-out but not run. My family friend and DO Andy agreed with Jack's diagnosis. SO here it is...two days later and all I want to do is run. I'm bored, anxious, and feeling like I'm going to be behind on my miles. I know I need to listen to my body and heal, but I'm nervous. Hopefully, I can do enough cardio and strength training this week to keep me active and feeling like I'm moving in the right direction.

And I do have to keep reminding myself....I did complete 16 miles....in the snow...with the beauty of nature, my thoughts, and a note tucked in my pocket from my friend Adrienne Hutt which read "You Go Girl!! Love, A"

Signs

Death is one of those difficult things. We understand in theory what it means. We understand that grieving takes time and that life changes even if you will it to stay the same. The question we all have is what happens after: Is there an afterlife? Are we Reincarnated? Is there a Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory? Do spirits stay around to watch over us? What happens to the ones we love when they can no longer be here physically??

I've come to realize that even though my Dad is no longer physically here, he is still present. I now believe in things that one year ago I would have thought were crazy ideas. I believe he watches over us. I believe in ghosts. I believe that he is here to comfort me and when I need him most he will show up (hopefully with a drink in hand).

I know he has spoken to me on at least one run. I also had a sign from him today (at least that's what I want to believe it was). I went to the gym today. They always show two movies at the gym. I always look to see what they are and today I did not. After my workout, I saw a friend who I have seen in awhile. She said she had gotten my fundraising email and was excited for me and proud. This made me feel so good. On my way out I looked to see what two movies were playing: "Can't Buy Me Love" and one of my Dad's favorite movies ,"Young Frankenstein". My Dad loved Mel Brooks movies. I've seen Blazing Saddles more times than I can count. Maybe this isn't a sign...maybe it's coincidence...but whatever it was I know he was with me today.

I get through 9 miles with a little help from my friends

Thursdays means it's time for Crossroads. I've had some pain in my left quad this week. I lifted on Monday with my Personal Trainer, Heather, not to be confused with my running coach Jack (I feel like a movie star with all these trainers). I haven't done much strength training since I started training for the marathon. Heather worked me pretty hard on Monday and I was definitely feeling it on Tuesday. I had planned to run a slow 9 miles last night with Lauren...however....

We met two new women last night, both of whom are experienced marathoners. One of the women who is running her 12th marathon is a breast cancer survivor and qualified for Boston over 10 years ago (I believe her fastest marathon time was 3:17!!!) These women pushed us to run about a 10 min/mile or less for 9 miles. It was an amazing run..much faster than I've been running.

Baby It's Cold Outside....

Ah the joy of living in New England....fire places, snow, and freezing cold temperatures. I ran yesterday morning (Tuesday) at 5:30am. According to weather.com it was 13 degrees out with a windchill that made it 6!!! I was definitely cold when I started, but warmed up about 5 minutes into my run. I bought new Hind running tights on Monday which I am in love with. They kept me warm, wicked away my sweat, made for a great run. I wore a dry fit top, with a light weight fleece and a running vest. I was actually too warm. Ideally I should be wearing a dry fit-wicking shirt and either my vest or a jacket. I keep putting off buying a running jacket though. I found one that I loved-Sugoi Response Jacket-but couldn't bring myself to spend $130 on it. I'm gonna try to find it online. Wish me luck finding it.....

Whoever said running was a cheap sport didn't run in New England in the dead of winter.

If at first you don't succeed...

This past week was difficult and frustrating. I was exhausted and my running was less than stellar. On Tuesday, Jan. 15th, I tried to go to the gym to run 5 miles on the treadmill. I got through 1.75 miles!!! I realized that the reason we have tapering weeks (weeks where you cut down on your mileage) is to let your body heal. I've been pushing past my limit and I think my body is rebelling. I am trying to learn to listen to my body. I need to sleep more. I need to eat when I'm hungry. I need to take days off when my muscles hurt. These things will allow me to continue training and run this marathon.

I treated myself to a massage this past Friday. What a difference that makes.....I ran 9.77 miles on Saturday.

Let's see what this week brings....

SNOW DAY!!!

Part of the joy of living in New England is snow. What makes it even better is when work calls a snow day. What a nice way to spend a snowy Monday. I got up late, had breakfast, went to the gym.....and now onto it's time to focus on the marathon.

We had a group run on Sunday, yesterday. Our run yesterday was 12-15 miles. The group I was running with decided to run 12 miles. It was out in Waltham (a suburb of Boston) and into the town of Lincoln. The area was beautiful: along a reservoir, past at least one farm, and past beautiful houses. Very few cars, very few people aside from our group. Very different from running in the city. A good portion of the course was hills. It was definitely good practice although my knees were killing at the end. This next week is a lighter week with our longest run being 8-10 miles. Hopefully this will give my body time to heal itself. I'm definitely sore all over, especially my neck, back hips, and glutes. I'm definitely treating myself to a massage this week.

Meet me at Crossroads

It seems that runners do two things well: run and drink. Last night I went to the weekly run at Crossroads Irish Pub (in the Back Bay). There were runners there from all different charity groups. There were a number of people from the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team. It is a great social event, but also a great time to get in mileage. We took the T (Boston Subway System) out to Woodland (on the D line). From there we started the 9 mile run back to the bar. Nine miles of the marathon course...and once again...Heartbreak Hill. I was definitely tired by the end, but felt good. It is amazing to me how simply nine miles feels. What was once an unimaginable goal is completely attainable and more. I just hope I feel this way as I get into my longer runs.

I also met some amazing people last night and got to know some more of the DFMC runners. I met two women who ran last year. One woman has run the Boston Marathon with DFMC 8 or 9 times in a row!!! The other woman ran her first marathon last year and was featured in TV special about marathon training. These women really hit home that the marathon draws people of all abilities who all love to run. I can't believe I am about to say this but I am definitely enjoying training. The people are making it all worth it...now all I need to do is my fundraising.

14 miles and counting...

One of the great things about being part of the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge (DFMC) team is that we do group runs. And yes....I ran 14 miles today. It is the first time I have ever run that far. We ran from Watertown to Newton and did part of the Newton Hills on Commonwealth Avenue (part of the marathon course). My back hurts, my knees hurt, I have at least 3 blisters on my toes, and a rash of unknown origin on my side.....but I did it and I ran the whole thing. Part of what kept me going was my friend Heidi who I met at the First-timers meeting. She pushed me through the 14 and I couldn't have done it without her. Only 12.2 miles to go....

My first ever blog

Hi all,

SO here it goes. I am training for the Boston Marathon and what a perfect way for friends and family to keep up with my trials, tribulations, leg pain, desire to eat constantly and excitement in running. I will fill you in on more over the next several months for training, but in the meantime thanks for your support.