I’m still riding the high of knowing that I completed my second marathon about 24 hours ago.  I’m wearing the race t-shirt, and admiring that finisher medal sitting on my dresser, and taking it easy today.  My muscles are sore, but the joints don’t really ache, which is encouraging me that I will be able to get back out there and run sooner than I did after my first marathon last year.

I know. I know. I am getting ahead of myself. But no joke, about halfway through the race yesterday, I was starting to consider running a full in spring or summer of 2010, rather than just limiting myself to the NYC Marathon in November. What can I say – a lot of thoughts go through your head when you are running for almost 5 hours.

Overall feeling coming off of the 2009 Philadelphia Marathon?  I loved it.

I loved the course, we had beautiful weather (41 degrees at the start, 54 and sunny when I crossed the finish line. hellooooo perfect running weather), and I could not have been happier about how I ran.  The official times have not been posted yet, but I clocked myself at 4:56:29 with the watch.  My first marathon in San Fran last year, was without a doubt the most painful thing that I have ever done, and the fact that I was on my feet for about 6 hours the first time around, since I had to walk/run the last 8 miles or so, contributed significantly to that pain.

My goal for Philly, set based on how my training had gone this time around and the times of my 4 half marathons this year (2:19, 2:29, 2:32, 2:16), was to finish under 5 hours and run the entire course with the exception of walking a few seconds at water stops or when I needed to stretch.  I came to run, dammit, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that was what I did at this marathon.

Amy, Ryan, and I drove down to Philly Saturday afternoon, a few hours later than I had hoped (I don’t generally consider myself to have a super Type A personality, but apparently when it comes to running, things not going according to schedule stress me out. a lot.) but still had time to hit up the expo and visit one of Amy’s friend before meeting up with Renee and two of her friends for a DELICIOUS carb-filled pasta dinner at Spasso Italian Grill.

Back to the hotel, usual pre-race routine of laying everything out, from clothes to breakfast food, trying not to psych myself out too much, but mind still racing about the next day. Managed to get some sleep before the alarms went off at the crazy early hour of 4:45 a.m.

Ryan (Amy’s boyfriend) was awesome all weekend, driving us everywhere, so much so that I couldn’t complain too much about the late start on Saturday.  He dropped us off behind the Art Museum and we joined the crowds of runners proceeding to the port-a-potties and bag check.  Amy was in awe/overwhelmed the entire time.  Her only other race was the Lake Placid Half this summer, which is such a small scale event compared to this.  She was pumped, but pretty nervous (I was nervous for her too), as she had been traveling in the weeks leading up to this race and hadn’t gotten in as many long runs as she’d planned.

We started off at a nice, easy pace as the sun started to come up over the city.  I was pleased that while some parts of the course were similar to the Philadelphia Distance Run that I had done last year, it mostly covered different parts of the city.  As this was only my second time to the city – both for races – it was a great tour of Philly.

Ramon, my coach, had prepped me before about where to expect hills, where to hold back, where to push myself, which was so helpful.  Even though I could have run faster the first half, I held myself back to stay at Amy’s pace, knowing that it was good for me to conserve the energy.  By about Mile 10, she was holding me back a little too much, and I told her that I needed to go ahead, that she could text or call me if she needed.  I was feeling very strong by that point, but needed to keep my pace steady and was speeding up/slowing down a little too much running with her.

We turned back toward the Art Museum and the course split. Finish line to the right, mile 14 to the left.  Just around the bend, I glanced at my watch as I past the 13.1 marker.  2:28:18 for the first half.  I was going to have to run smart if I wanted to break 5 hours, and that meant staying very consistent and aiming for negative splits.  Holding back during the first half had helped me conserve energy, and I needed to make sure I used that to my advantage.  Time for the iPod (had run without music until this point), time to get in the zone.

The miles passed, I kept an eye out for Ramon, knowing that he was watching somewhere, but ultimately not seeing him at all.  Little aches and pains came and went, I stretched a few times, but no major issues.  I passed Mile 18 feeling much stronger than my last long run two weeks ago (which was mapped out for 21 miles and I had to hop on the subway and cut it short at 18 because my legs felt so blah).  I knew that I had it in me to finish.  The stretch from 18 to 20 was mentally challenging, as I knew there was a turnaround, but it seemed like a longggg time until it finally came (Brandon & Jenna agreed with me on this one). Jackie texted me a “good luck” message a few miles later and my response was “Mile 22. Pain.”  I managed to get out a few tweets during the run, but texting anything longer than those three words at that point required too much coordination.

I checked my watch constantly during the last 4 miles, knowing that I had slowed my pace, but that as long as I kept running and didn’t let myself walk, I was going to hit my goal.  Sheer determination carried me from about 22-25, the energy of the crowds combined with adrenaline took over the last mile, as I ignored the pain in my legs.  Somewhere around 25.5 I glanced over to the sidelines and saw Coach Steve.  I smiled and waved at him; he did a double take, and shouted “what are YOU doing here?” haha, I hadn’t seen him since this summer when I was training with TNT for the Lake Placid and NYC Halfs.  I laughed, “running a marathon?”.  I love our coaches.  Seriously amazing group of people.  I would not be where I am if it weren’t for them.

I passed Ryan in the crowds just before the finish line.  Think he might have given me a high-five?  I don’t remember.  At that point, the finish line ahead of me was the only thing I was focusing on.  So many things were going through my head.  I was completing my second marathon.  I was tired, but still felt strong.  I saw my watch turn to 4:56, and I used that last surge of energy to push ahead.  After I hit the finish line and stopped the watch, the time said 4:56:29.  I was somehow still able to do math at this point and it hit me immediately that my splits were not only negative, but within 10 seconds of each other.  In Ramon’s words, I had behaved. I could not have asked for a better race.

I wrapped myself up in those foil wrappers that they hand out at the end of a marathon (do those things have a name??), got some food, took pictures, awkwardly put on sweats (bending my knees made this a difficult task), and went back to meet up with Ryan, cheer on the runners still coming in and wait for Amy.

In the meantime, I caught up with all the supportive messages that had been coming in through my phone via facebook and twitter all morning.  I have mentioned before, but omg the running community on twitter is an incredible thing that I have discovered over the past year.  I have met so many people, and there were so many people who had been cheering for me and sending me positive vibes over the previous five hours.  Absolutely incredible.  To any twitter peeps reading this race report – thank you AGAIN for being AWESOME.

Amy came through about an hour later, and somehow I managed to jump on the course and run with her (how was I running? I had just finished a marathon. no clue) for a couple minutes until she got close to the finish line and I jumped back off the course.  I was so proud of her for finishing her first 26.2, even though she had an incredibly hard time with it.

Final thoughts? Our hotel got major props for letting us extend our check-out by about 4 hours so that we could shower and feel like normal human beings again. Celebratory margaritas were much needed, and it only took one to give me a good buzz.  As much as I love the 13.1 distance, yesterday gave me a new found respect for the 26.2 distance, and I may just have to conquer more than one next year.  To be determined as I plot out the race schedule for 2010.

As for 2009 races, that’s a wrap.  Four half-marathons, the 9+1 NYC Marathon Qualifying Program, and one full marathon.  Yesterday was the perfect way to end the racing season for the year, as I take it easy and just run for the love of running over the next couple months.

***apologies for current lack of pictures, they’ll be added soon once I get the ones that Ryan & Amy took***

Less than 24 hours to go.  The pre-race jitters have officially set in.  It goes from feeling like butterflies one minute to nausea the next, but I know that the adrenaline will kick in tomorrow morning, and I will use the nervousness to carry me through the miles.

I can’t believe that I am about to run my second marathon. How did that happen?  Running marathons scares me.  And yet, I’m voluntarily doing this again?

So many  people in my “running network” that I’ve built over the past two years, from TNT to Twitter are much more experienced runners who have 5, 10, 40 marathons under their belt, who have ventured into the worlds of triathlons and ultras.  Philly will *only* be my 2nd marathon – I feel like a baby to the sport by comparison.  But for me, knowing that by tomorrow, I will have (**hopefully**) completed two marathons is HUGE.  I completed my first marathon only six months after I began to train for long distance running, and I had a hard time believing that I had really accomplished it, that it wasn’t just a crazy dream.

And now, I am back again.

In a lot of ways, I am much more prepared for my marathon this year than I was last year.  I have trained better, I have learned from my mistakes.  I know what to expect, but in a lot of ways, that makes me more scared.  I can approach the race much more strategically, pace myself better, fiel better, but I also know just how tough it will be and how much can potentially go wrong.

Sigh.  Just like life, huh?

We learn from our mistakes, we get stronger, we’re supposed to get smarter, but maybe sometimes it was better when we were naive and didn’t really have a clue just how much it could hurt and just how much harder – mentally, if nothing else – it would be the next time around.

I am ready to take on Philly.  I know that the long road of the past year, both in running and otherwise, which has been a slightly tumultuous, disappointing, challenging one in many ways, will help me run strong for 26.2 miles tomorrow.

I am ready to push full speed ahead, channel up the advice that Ramon sent me about to course yesterday, the good luck wishes from all my running buddies.

Nick emailed me this morning, and said, “I fully expect to see photos of you posing with cheesesteaks along the way, or running up the art museum steps.  Your choice.”

I am ready to have fun.  Because, if it’s not fun, what the hell is the point of all this?

I posted this quote on my blog last year, when we ran the Philadelphia Distance Run, but it’s Philly, so it’s only appropriate that I post it once again:

“Let me tell you something you already know.  The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows.  It is a very mean and nasty place and it will beat you to you knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.  You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life.  But it ain’t how hard you hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward.  How much you can take, and keep moving forward.  That’s how winning is done.  Now if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth.  But you gotta be willing to take the hit, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you are because of him, or her, or anybody.  Cowards do that and that ain’t you.  You’re better than that!”

- Rocky Balboa

…and we’re off.

Yesterday, I raced, today, I ran.  I had a timing chip and a race number for both, but as all runners can tell you, there is a difference between the two.  It is mostly controlled by the mental, which then impacts the physical, and determines how hard you push yourself, how important those splits are, and what you want to get out of the race.

Yesterday, I wanted a 10k PR, and I wanted to beat my time for that same race that I had participated in last year.  Today, I wanted a nice relaxing run through Central Park on a beautiful, crisp autumn morning.

Yesterday, I pushed myself, I felt strong, and was excited about the time on my watch when I crossed the finish line (1:00:56).  Today, I was tired from yesterday, and didn’t really care that my pace was more than a minute slower than yesterday’s race.

Today had a different, very distinct objective.  All I needed to do was cross the finish line.  The Poland Spring Marathon Kickoff was more than just a 5 mile race through Central Park; it was so much more than that.  It was the culmination of a year of racing in this city, a year and a half of long-distance running, which would qualify me for something that I have had my sights on since I began running in New York in spring 2008.

This was the race that would clinch my guaranteed entry for the 2010 New York City Marathon.  My reward for crossing so many other finish lines this year.

From one-mile races to half-marathons, 2009 has been packed with races from Washington Heights through Central Park all the way down to Staten Island, in the hopes that I would earn a place amongst 40,000+ other runners who travel from around the world each fall to one of the most well known and well loved marathon courses in the world.

Crossing the finish line this morning, in front of Tavern on the Green, gave me the ticket to do just that next year. New York City, 2010, here I come.  Ready or not? Oh, don’t worry, I will be ready for you, New York.

As I headed home from brunch, with a group of 5 other people whom I had never met before this morning, it dawned on me that in the few hours we had been hanging out, the common question “what do you do?” did not come up once, yet there was hardly a lull in the conversation.  (I feel like that is usually the default question in one of these potentially socially awkward situations) Why?  Because there was one common thread between all of us, one thing that we all “do” which formed an instant connection.  We are runners.

“Running is my anchor.  It’s not what I do, but it’s what makes everything else I do okay” – Ben Cheever

Over the past several months, I have intertwined my running with my writing with social media, almost without a conscious effort to do so, and in the process, I have “met” (in the twitter/internet sense of the word) some awesome runners from all over.  Runners who race, runners who run for to stay in shape, those who are fast, those who are slow; all of whom are incredibly supportive and passionate about the sport.

Despite having been active on twitter for the past year or so, and hearing talk of “tweet-ups”, this was the first time that I have actually met people in person, who I have connected with via social media.  Pretty sweet.

Michelle had sent me a message earlier this morning that people were meeting for brunch after the 10k Nike+ Human Race.  After running a solid race, I managed to make my way out of the opposite side of Prospect Park from where I needed to be (amongst many other Manhattan runners who were equally turned around), and headed to an cute little Park Slope diner.  6 random people, from various parts of Manhattan & Brooklyn instantly clicked over our common passion.  We chatted about all those things that your non-runner friends get tired of hearing you talk about (even if they are too good of friends to tell you that)…which marathons we had done, the trend of barefoot running that has become increasingly popular since the release of “Born to Run“, what people were chatting about in the twitter and dailymile running circles, injuries…the list goes on and on.  Good conversation, delicious food – not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

Oh yes, and I PR’ed in the 10k.

Non-runners think runners are crazy.  Seriously.  I went into the restaurant where I work last weekend after I had completed (PR’ed!!) the Staten Island Half Marathon, and all the guys’ responses were, “what?! you just ran a half marathon this morning?! like, a couple hours ago?!”  Charlie stared at me for awhile, with a completely perplexed look on his face, and finally declared, “I think you must be crazy.  OK, go for a run, you’re in good shape, I get that, but 13 miles? And no one paid you to do this?” I told him that I had in fact, paid someone to let me do it.  Yup, he decided, I was crazy.

In their mind, why would any sane person run unless they were chasing something or running away from something? Running, just for the sake of running, they don’t understand. In my mind, running, for the sake of running does make sense because I am both chasing and running away, some days one of those more than the other, depending on what is going on in my life.

Chasing a PR
Running away from reality
Chasing something bigger than myself
Running away from weakness, from laziness, from failure
Chasing the finish line
Running away my worries, my cares, my stress, my fears
Chasing the dream

The Staten Island Half was excellent.  I had not really expected much, either of the race or of myself, and as such, it went above and beyond my expectations.  The weather was perfect, the course was beautiful, and the view of Manhattan and the Verrazano Bridge (in runner speak: the starting line of the NY Marathon) was motivating.

I say that my expectations for myself were low, not because there was anything wrong with my training or I didn’t feel prepared, but rather because I’ve never really been quite as relaxed in my race approach for a half before.  I had intended to incorporate the race into my marathon training as a long run, rather than to “race it” simply because I needed to fit in another qualifier for the 2010 NY Marathon. I even missed the gun because I was still in line for the port-a-potties and didn’t stress out too much as I jogged over to the start line a few minutes later.  That’s how nonchalant I was about this race.

Once I crossed the start line however, race mode kicked in, of course, as I started to calculate my time and focus 100% on the race.  Much to my dismay, in the past couple weeks, my tummy has suddenly decided that it no longer likes the gels that I have been using for the past year and a half since I started running, so I had hard time taking in any kind of nutrition during the run.  Gatorade, water, power gels, my stomach was not happy with anything.  In spite of that, however, I had the best race this year and set a PR from my time in Madison by about 3 minutes, finishing in 2:16:23.  Not bad.  I’ll take that.

Less than 5 weeks to Philly.

Sometimes you have to take the unexpected and just run with it.

You stumble across something that you have not trained for, have no experience with, is out of your league, so you just throw yourself into it, heart, body, and soul.  Because hell, you have nothing to lose.  You take off at a sprint, pretty certain that you went out too fast, but too caught up in the momentum and energy surrounding you to slow down.

I am a marathoner, not a miler.  I had no idea what to expect.

As you pass each quarter-mile mark, you take a second glance at your watch because those splits seem way faster than you dared to hope for, and yet, you’re strangely feeling like you will be able to hold this pace until the end.

You are pushing harder, flying faster, doing better than you had thought possible.  Now is no time to give up, to let go, to slow down.

Maybe life is testing you by throwing something too good to be true at you and seeing just how badly you really want it.  We are sure that we are not cut out for the challenge, we struggle against the limits that we set…and in doing so, we surprise ourselves more than anyone else by rising to the occasion.

I want this.  I want this so much.  I would rather ignore logic and limitations.  I would rather follow my heart and take the risk.  That’s just how I roll.

7:42. I have never, ever run a sub-8:00 min mile in my life.

My first thought as I crossed the finished line of the 5th Avenue Mile race this morning was that it was almost over before it began.  Maybe, just maybe, it’s actually the beginning of something a whole lot bigger, something that is nowhere near being finished.

A coffee connoisseur at heart, I was disappointed to find that the coffee I drank on a daily basis in Colombia was…subpar, to say the least.  The small dixie cup sized glasses of tinto that we drank at the university needed several spoonfuls of sugar, we made instant coffee at home, and although our cappuccinos at the Dulcerna seemed heavenly by comparison, they weren’t really all that well prepared.

We traveled to Chinchina, at the heart of the eje cafetero, walked through the coffee fields, saw workers picking beans, cleaning them, packing them up, only to learn that all of this wonderfully rich coffee would be exported to the US and Europe rather than roasted for us to taste right there in the heart of one of the top coffee producing countries in the world.

It is for this reason that I laughed this morning as I read the news, only to find that BBC Mundo agreed completely with me.

“Decir que los colombianos, que se precian de producir el café más suave del mundo, no saben preparar esa bebida, puede sonar ofensivo y poco creíble a primera vista.  No obstante la buena fama del grano colombiano y que éste se ha convertido en un símbolo de Colombia, muchos extranjeros que llegan al país andino se encuentran en dificultades cuando quieren tomarse un buen café en la calle, en los hoteles o incluso en una casa de familia.”

“To say that Colombians, who pride themselves on producing the smoothest coffee in the world, do not know how to prepare this drink, may sound offensive and slightly credible at first.  Despite the fame of the Colombian coffee bean, which has become a symbol of Colombia, many foreigners who arrive to the country, find it difficult when they want to drink a good cup of coffee in the street, in hotels, or even in a family’s home”.

The article contributed this partially to economic reasons for which the best coffee beans have traditionally been exported and the lesser quality coffee is sold domestically.  In addition to this, the reporter discussed how the focus has never been on the roasting and brewing part of the coffee process; it is only within the past decade that Colombian consumers have really begun to learn the preparation side of coffee, rather than just growing and selling.

Juan Valdez cafes are starting to pop up in major cities around the country, but even in 2007 when I was still living in Barranquilla, this 4th largest city in the country, did not have one [a couple were there by the time I went back to visit in 2008].  The article noted that there are some, although not many, other cafes who use Italian espresso machines to prepare their coffee to its full potential.

It’s kind of like what most Americans think of when they think of bad office coffee that has been sitting in a large pot and reheated throughout the day…and yet, the Colombian coffee beans that I buy here in the US, grind and brew in my kitchen are exquisite.

Interesting read on one of my most favorite beverages

For the past week, I have been glued to the US Open coverage.  Whether at home or in the gym, if there is a television, it is tuned in to whichever men’s or women’s singles match is currently taking place at Arthur Ashe Stadium.  When I am at work, one of my coworkers and I discuss the tournament nonstop.  After I downloaded the iPhone application yesterday, we spent half the evening at the restaurant refreshing the scores and betting on who was going to take each set, even though we couldn’t actually see the individual plays or how the players were handling each other.

Why am I so enthralled by this Grand Slam tournament?  I did not play on my high school or college team, and even though I enjoy hitting balls with friends occasionally, I am no tennis player.  Perhaps it is the same reason that I love football season.  Why I watched in awe as Paula Radcliffe and Kara Goucher tore up the roads during the NYC Marathon last November.  Or why I love the way that the world comes together during the Olympic Games every two years.

Sports, and especially epic competitions such as the Olympics, World Cups, Grand Slams, Major Marathons, playoffs, showcase PASSION.  Sports push humans to their ultimate LIMITS.  They test not only the physical STRENGTH, but the mental and emotional strength that people have within themselves if they really and truly want to find it.  It’s the stories like Melanie Oudin, the 17-year old from Georgia who has taken the Open by surprise with one upset after another, quickly rising through the ranks of elite female tennis players, living up to her motto BELIEVE.  It’s the Monfils-Nadal match going into the quarterfinals, where the intensity of their game from the first point has looked like they were rallying for the match point.  Sports draw something from deep within, something that is INSPIRING, something that is contagious, something called COURAGE.

Running a Marathon scares the hell out of me.

It really does.  I’ve done it before and I’m excited to do it again, but it still scares me.  Any training run longer than 16 miles does, to be honest.

I think that the fear is a good thing, in many ways.  The Marathon deserves a certain amount of respect, which comes by intimidating, just a little, those who decide to take it on.  It forces you to set a long term goal, as this isn’t something that you will be ready for overnight.  If you don’t train well, put in the miles, dedicate yourself, respect the distance, you won’t finish.  Even if you do prepare, there are still so many unknown factors that come into play over the course of 26.2 miles.

And yet, I do it anyway.  Why?  Because now that I have started, I can’t imagine not running.  I do it for the challenge. I do it because I know that it is difficult for me.  I do it because I know that I can do so much better than the last time around.  I do it because when you run a marathon, you enter a world different from the one you normally exist in, you become a part of something bigger than yourself.

I do it because the sense of accomplishment when you cross the finish line is worth all the aches and pains.  I do it because it makes me feel more alive.

Yes, indeed, I am.  Fall is a wonderful time of the year.  Beautiful weather, my birthday, and the kick-off (no pun intended) of my favorite sports season (let’s be honest, I love running, but watching people run is not nearly as exciting as some good, ol’ fashioned football). Wisco plays Northern Illinois, and I plan to spend the evening drinking Spotted Cow, eating brats and cheese curds, singing Varsity, and hanging out with some fabulous Sconnies and Big Ten fans.

I sat at the bar of the restaurant where I work last night, with two of my girlfriends (one from Minnesota, the other from Rhode Island) and two of my guy coworkers (both European), talking about football.  Tina, the one from MN, and I chatted passionately about both Big Ten and NFL football, while Amy, the one from RI, admitted that she didn’t know anything about football.  Both of my coworkers were amazed that girls knew so much about football, and even more so when we told them that it was normal for midwestern girls to love the sport.  I know that the majority of my girlfriends from back home had an opinion about Favre signing with the Vikings and will be watching Big Ten football games this weekend as the season starts.

Maybe it’s just in our blood.