Training has been going quite well. My first race upon arriving back to the states quantified these feelings. The race I ran was in Aptos, CA, an all women’s trail half-marathon. It had five river crossings and a lot of my favorite kind of trails, rolling single tracks. After crossing the finish line first, I was informed that I had taken nine minutes off of the course record and that I had a mile lead over the woman in second. My body felt strong that morning. It was one of those days where I flew over the trails.

Unfortunately not all days feel this great. Two weeks after this race, I decided to do a 10 miler in Sacramento. I can blame it on my intense week of training, my improper warm-up, or ultimately, on it just not being my day, but there were no feelings of racing bliss. It was hard and the pavement hurt. After stopping twice I got back in the race and held on. After mile three things were on the up and up. After mile five I started to fall into a rhythm and it turned into a great opportunity for a seven mile temp run.

In the end, everyday is different and everyday my body is different. Regardless I listen to what it says and I keep training, recovering, getting body work, wearing my Zoot compression tights (my new favorite nap or lounging attire), taking Epsom salt baths, foam rolling, eating good food, and doing things that will potentially lead to these small glimpses of running bliss. Ok, now I'm off to think about better ways to warm-up!

Best,

Caitlin

First off, a fire alarm is not the best way to awaken the morning of a marathon. My first response (and thank goodness I had laid everything out the previous morning) was to throw on my racing gear, pack up my stuff, and get the heck out of the hotel. This was my thinking: a. if there was in fact a fire, I was not going to miss the f'ing race and b. there is no way I wanted to be climbing up 11 flights of stairs after a false alarm.  So I headed out with my personal belongings and descended the stairwell along with all the other hotel occupants. ‘In the end, it definitely worked out for me. I was able to head towards the Fairmont Hotel (where the elite buses would be arriving/boarding), enjoy a bagel and peanut butter in the lobby, and then mingle a little before heading out towards the start via bus.

At the start area, my nerves and heartbeat were humming with their usual nervous energy, but I just kept reminding myself that all I needed to do was run. As I toed the line, I was excited. After a year I was getting to finally take a shot at the Trials standard. When the gun went off I reminded myself that there was no urgency and to just stay relaxed.  I felt good and tried to trust my body versus the various mile splits I had written on my arm. At some point I knew every one of them was going to be four minutes faster than intended, but I still kept glancing at them. Luckily I only had them written for every five miles. I’ve typically been better at listening to my body versus numbers. Anyhow, I latched on to number 37, Kasie Enman, for a while. But after mile 15, I had become one lonesome girl and was out by myself with only the Boston suburbanites and the tarmac for company. I got some blurred vision around this point. Thank goodness for vanilla GU and the cute little kid that I high fived for bringing me back into focus. I just kept on moving one foot in front of the other.

Around mile 21, the elite men caught up with me. The noise of the sirens was a bit irritating and I got distracted. One nice bicyclist encouraged me to run the tangents and not hug the shoulder. He also confirmed that I looked strong (In fact, he found me in the tent afterwards and made a point to congratulate me! People are so great!).  Other than the fact that the men made me feel like I was standing still, I found the whole experience kind of neat.  Around this point I started to realize that I probably would accomplish my goal from 2010 and qualify for the Olympic Marathon Trials.

But, for some reason over the next four miles I worried. What if I cramp up? What if I started too fast? What if I have to walk? What if I keel over? This is when I realized being alone has its faults. I thought of a text I had received from Heather Macfalls the night before the race, which ended by saying “you are so strong and ready.” I just kept saying that to myself. When I hit the sign saying there was a mile left, I knew that this was it. I had done what I set out to do and I was feeling strong and happy! Seeing the finish, hearing the crowd, and crossing that finish in 2:41:37 felt surreal. I was as happy as a jelly bean!

There was something that really struck me in those last ten miles. Even though I was out there running by myself I felt supported by the people I know and don’t know. The crowd carried me. Staying relaxed and trusting myself carried me. All the pre-race wishes I got from my friends and family carried me. You all carried me! I just can’t thank those that high-fived, screamed for #41 (that was me in case you were confused), who eagerly held out water for me, who loved my red shoes (or race cars according to Griffin Brown), and that clapped their hands. I can’t thank those of you that know me enough. It’s my friends and family that believe in me even when I don’t believe in myself. I am just so grateful to have the support and encouragement from you all. So yeah I guess I am getting a little sappy, but it’s true!

So what do you do after a 17+ minute marathon PR? You smile a lot. You get lots of super nice Facebook comments/messages. You can’t really sleep. You wonder how it all went by so fast. You realize you’re capable of anything if you work hard and listen. You hop on a late flight home to give your boyfriend a big hug and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You sit hear writing this blog still in awe. You have slight difficulty descending stairs. And of course, you look forward to the continuation of the journey…. Olympic Trials…. Whoohoooo!