run this amazing day

I can tell you the exact moment I decided to race. It wasn't Monday evening when, after a big - all things being relative - weekend of training and a long day of work, I sat down and wrote a brief race plan only so I wouldn't do something stupid like forget to pack my bike shoes and then had a bowl of ice cream after dinner (no, all of my clothes being tight right now is not a mystery). It wasn't Tuesday afternoon when I dropped my bike off with Wes ( ProBikeExpress is the best way to go, as always!) and laughingly told him that I was sending it on vacation and maybe we could ride Saturday afternoon while everyone else was napping.   It wasn't Thursday  afternoon when I was getting the shit beat out of my hamstring or Friday morning when I showed up to swim half of masters with all my friends before hopping on the plane.  Or later that day when I switched over from "eating like a normal human" to "eating only food that is white which includes both

I love to swim.  It's a fact of my life, a big ol'  no duh  right up there with the sky is blue  and the grass is green  and double stuf oreos are goddamn delicious  and I certainly don't need to rehash my love for it here, yet again.  When I first got hurt, it broke my heart that swimming was at the top of the long list of things I couldn't do.  But a physical therapist gently suggested that I try a buoy and to quit dicking around with open turns, and it came back.  Slowly.  With all the gear at first; paddles + buoy has always been my favorite combo of toys (hashtag triathletes), I love the feeling of shoving water back with so much strength and power.  So I happily pulled myself bonkers for weeks.  It was something that I could do, running was off-and-on and riding was firmly scrapped, but I could swim twenty minutes easy.  That calmed my brain.  It helped, at times it felt like that twenty minutes was the only time during the day that I got a break, swimming was the

I have a friend, a good one that I've known since middle school, that posted on the Facebook a few months back looking for a gym buddy after work.  He couldn't find one, so for the last month or so, I've been texting him most afternoons to kick his ass  help him stay motivated.  (Hashtag friendship). At the end of last week, he mentioned that he was going to run a 5K Saturday morning, and that planted a little seed, it woke up a thought in my brain.  I had a really great coffee chat with my friend and trainer and training partner Erin about a month ago when I was trying to sort through all of this.  And she told me, when you feel like you can go out and run a hard 5K, that's when you are ready to start training again . Things have not been magical superstar unicorns everywhere in the two weeks since the last round of prolotherapy.  I ran ten miles and that was great, true, but there were some days when I rode the trainer for such a small amount of time before baili

I flew back to DC to spectate the first race I would be DNS'ing on the year.  I had athletes racing the full and the half, plus one of my closest friends was having a baby shower than weekend so it was great timing for a trip.   I decided that the morning of the race, I would wake up early and run from where I was staying to the Lincoln Memorial which was mile marker 2/3 of the race.  I jogged up the Mount Vernon Trail that I have run so many times in my life, it made for a slightly squishy and emotional little trek.  The first time that I ever ran more than 8 miles was on that trail, I trained for ironman on that trail, I ran with Graham on that trail when he was young & before he got sick, I ran alone and with friends, I still know every crack in the asphalt and every turn.  My heart rate was low and pace was steady and everything was quiet. Something I realized a few weeks ago is that training is part of the way that I take care of myself.  It's time that I spend a