Managing expectations

I've had a few different posts bouncing around my head these past few weeks. My datebook has post-it notes with these little ideas and half-thoughts sticking out of it in hopes that I don’t forget anything I wanted to say. If you hadn't noticed, I’ll point out that there are two new pages on this blog. For some reason those were easier for me to write and post than a traditional entry. I’d love your feedback on both. I have plans for another page or two, all in good time.

With that housekeeping business handled, I’ll get right into what has been occupying my brain space. Expectations. What are they, who has them, and how do I manage them. For the most part I think that the major expectations in my life come directly from me, on a variety of subjects. Most commonly, of course, is running. I think part of my issue with having expectations is what happens if you fail to meet them. I am absolutely my own worst critic and I know that is why I have not been particularly open with some of my more recent running-related goals or actions.

I have gotten better at becoming more realistic with my expectations, and that is crucial. It is possible to dream big, believe in your potential, and still be realistic (given your current life circumstances) about what is achievable. This doesn't end once you set a goal or a desired outcome specific to that goal. As you begin to take steps to reach your goal, it is imperative that you reflect and reevaluate along the way. Life can throw so many things on our path, whether it be related to work, family, or physical health, and all of those things can impact meeting those pesky expectations.

I’ll give you the example that has been dogging me for months. I have set my eye on completing my first 50k. It has been on my radar since early winter 2012. The original plan was to train for the 2^nd marathon (scheduled for March 2013), take a week or two to recover, and then tack on another 8 weeks or so of workouts that would maintain my fitness until the 50k the first weekend of June. It seemed logical at the time. I was in a supervised marathon training program and had a solid 50k training plan that overlapped with the end of the marathon cycle. I had the time to devote to training. The race was local, which eliminated a lot of stressors. What I didn't plan on was how lackluster my marathon training turned out to be (100% on me) and how not fun running was by April 2013. It felt like a chore. I didn't want to run. Period. It wasn't fun. I made the call (days before the race) to back out. I was angry and frustrated with myself.

Because I so completely missed that goal, I was humiliated. Most of my friends and extended social circle knew that I was registered for that race. It was awful. The race organization was incredibly gracious and let me transfer to another 50k event later in the year but that did little to ease the sting. I did not start to get my running mojo back until later in the summer, at which point I was starting from scratch. I wanted to run but my body was reminding me what time off meant to my fitness. It didn't take long for me to realize that the 50k wasn't going to happen in 2013, period. I struggled through Ragnar in late September and then threw in the towel. It was the smart thing to do, particularly since my body began rebelling in October and has been doing so ever since. 

My first mistake was not honestly reflecting on the likelihood of meeting my goal given the change in circumstances. I didn't want to accept that not racing meant that I had failed. Thinking about it now, I don't think that missing the race a second time was a failure. I think not listening to my body and being realistic about what I was physically and mentally capable of was a failure of sorts. Honestly, I didn't really embrace that truth until a few weeks ago. It took me a YEAR. In that time I took on a coach and tried to force my body to cooperate when it wasn't ready and I didn't have all the tools to do it the right way. I'd like to say that with this new perspective the third time would be the charm for this 50k. Not so much. 

I'm participating in the race series in December, but at the half marathon distance. By no means am I letting go of my 50k goal. No way. But I'm going to be a bit more cautious in my approach, be realistic about what I am capable of, and continually reflect along the way. When the time comes for me to make that leap, I am going to crush it. I know that I am not alone in struggling with expectations in training and racing. There have been times when I have made it to race day and not had the performance I hoped for. While I didn't like the discomfort of it, I did sit down (after a brief pity party) and look at what went wrong. Most of it had been under my control. I'm not saying that you can't be upset or disappointed when a race goes awry. You absolutely can; that is totally human. What you can't do is ignore the role you may have played in the outcome. If you do, the odds are that you'll make those mistakes again. And again. 

This isn't rocket science. But because it requires us to look at ourselves honestly (and without judgment), we tend to get uncomfortable. It isn't fun. There are plenty of reasons not to do it and plenty of external factors to lay the blame upon. Remember that running doesn't have feelings. It won't pout if you cross-train one day a week instead of hit the road. Running doesn't judge you, you judge you. Managing expectations is all about the end game and I think that runners of all people can understand that. We've got long-sighted covered. If you can, take a moment today to think of an expectation you have of yourself or you believe that someone else has of you. Without judgment, consider if it is fair/honest/reasonable. It doesn't have to be running related, just give it a shot. I took me a year to get this concept through my head, but it has been beyond worth it. Trust me. 

Pay It Forward

My love of running is what motivated me to start this blog. I am blessed to say that running has touched my life in so many ways and I am humbled to know that I've played a small part in running blossoming in the lives of those I love. 

I have always felt the need to do Something. Capital S intended. Or be Somebody. But the reality is that not everyone is going to end up being Somebody or doing Something. At least not in the grand scheme of things. I'm not going to invent something, cure something, discover something. But I'm going love strong, try hard, be kind, and be grateful. 

Those little things are choices I make every day. For me, these little things are an attempt to be the change I wish to see. To be the best version of me. If I spend one more minute thinking about doing Something I am going to miss out on the chance to do all those things. With that in mind, I've started trying to pay it forward. 

As a recent graduate and newly employed grownup, I can't hide cash all over Northern Virginia and send people on a scavenger hunt. What I can do is help someone start their day with a smile. I think Wednesdays might be the toughest day of the work week and I know that sometimes a cup of coffee of all that stands between me and felon assault charges. So, on my weekly pilgrimage to the local coffee shop I place my order and then tell the person behind me to place theirs as well. 

Is isn't a big deal. At all. And I'm not adding this page to the blog because I want to seem like the nicest person in the history of ever. Because I'm not. I'm still snarky and crabby and impatient. But when I get out of my own head long enough to encourage someone else to get out of theirs, magic happens. I've only been doing this pay it forward thing for a few weeks, but it is already the best part of my week. Last week a young lady was so surprised she asked if she could hug me (of course she can!) and this week the man I treated immediately turned to the person behind him and did the same. 

THAT is what I'm hoping for. Guerrilla kindness. Right now it is a cup of coffee. As my creativity (and my bank account) continue to grow I hope to turn this into much more. I'd also love to hear from anyone else that is doing something similar. Tell me what you do and tell me where you're from. One by one, world domination, through kindness (and coffee).

Falling down

It is no secret that running is continually providing each of us with lessons that extend beyond the trail. Even when we hit the road to escape whatever ails us, we often come back with clarity, perspective, and the resolve to get up again tomorrow. Sometimes, however, the running experience is a bit more literal.

Case in point, Saturday July 26th. Mississippi and I joined a friend, J, on a trip to Old Rag. Neither of us had been before and were excited to finally check it out. Given that J is currently prepping to climb Mt Rainier and has done Old Rag approximately 1,000 times, we thought he was the perfect lead. Also, we were lucky he let us crash his day because we pretty much invited ourselves.

An early alarm, some mandatory coffee, and a short car ride later we were there. Although it was my second trip to the Sperryville area, I forgot how close it really was. Good thing, as the parking lot was already filling with lots of other eager hikers. For no other reason than sheer curiosity, I hit start on my Garmin. We let J set the pace since he's the one getting the workout in and knows what to expect on the trail. If nothing else, Mississippi and I figured we'd get a reality check on our fitness level. It didn't take long.

I liked all the switchbacks on the ascent and we had a good sweat going in no time. I'd be lying if I said that my trouble spot wasn't bothering me, but it wasn't anything I couldn't easily ignore. We stopped now and again to admire the view and take in fluids. The rock scrambling was, for the moment, my favorite part. I can't remember the last time I used all those muscles and all the endorphins made me so happy to be outside and unplugged.  After a few false summits (thanks, J, such a tease), we were at the top. 4 miles on the dot. The views were wonderful and the weather was perfect.

Cue customary photos of happy hikers:

The 5 miles back down to the parking lot were much easier on the legs. No scrambling and less steep, at least. I knew ahead of time that there was a fire road involved and wore my NB1210s with the intention of running the last mile or two down that road to the car in order to see how trail running felt on tired legs. I also wanted to see how trail running felt on my constantly sore tendony parts. With NFEC on the horizon I wanted any kind of sign that it might be physically possible. Enter this:

I honestly didn't know it was happening until after it happened. The road was mostly downhill but nothing steep and not particularly technical. I was cruising right along and grinning like an idiot. It had been so long since I'd be outside running on a trail, I was just so grateful. It couldn't have been more than 20 seconds from falling to being up and running down the trail again. Like a real winner the first thing I checked was my Garmin. Not broken. Nothing was gushing blood either. The closest first aid was the car and my hiking partners were a ways behind me still walking, so it just seemed logical to shake it off and finish the run. Oh, and ask a total stranger to take the lovely photo above once I finished.

So, the metaphor part.  We all fall down. Often and over again. The lesson is in getting back up and moving forward. Yes, apparently my gut instinct was to hop up and finish what I started. But this wasn't always the case. Had this exact fall happened a year or six months ago, the outcome would have been very different yet still 100% under my control. I would have sat there and cried. Blamed the trail and its wayward rocks. Called myself clumsy, stupid, and a laundry list of other oh so flattering adjectives. Told myself to quit running because I clearly suck at it and would only continue to embarrass myself if I kept training. Not to mention the epic humiliation sure to befall me on race day. 

I can't tell you exactly why that didn't happen this time. I wish I could. What I do know is how badly I want to finish my first ultra. That I believe that I am 100% capable of doing so. That one bad run doesn't represent me or my worth as a runner. That trails are inherently more dangerous than paved roads and this fall will not be the last one I take. I'm glad that I fell. I'm even happier that my brain didn't think for a second about anything other than GETTING UP. I don't think the smile ever left my face. 

When you want something bad enough, when it means just that much to you, nothing else matters. I don't need anyone else to believe that I can do this. Or anything else I want to accomplish in life (oh hi, Masters degree). Sure, supportive friends and family are incredible but they are not a given. Nor will they be able to do any of the WORK that needs to be done to get you there. You run the miles. You lift the weights. You rise to the early alarm. You fall down. You are also the only one who can get you back up. 

So, in that moment. On that day, when it comes. Because it will. When you fall, get up. Run on. 

Pushing the RESET button

And then walking away for well over a year.

I've had a post started, either in my head or on this computer, for months. The more time that passes the more I struggle with what to write. So much can happen in fifteen months time, both as an athlete and in my everyday life. At some point I had to accept that recapping that block of time is just not possible. Nor does it have to be.

All of the experiences I had during that time have and will continue to influence each day of my life going forward. As the pieces come together I am sure that stories from those missing months will make their way onto this page. Frankly, sitting here spinning my wheels and hemming and hawing about what to say just wastes my time. As an expert in wasting my own time, I can't continue to encourage such useless behavior.

So. July 2014. Almost August, actually. How time can simultaneously fly by and drag its heels, I have no idea. Right now I'm trying to get lingering tendonitis in my left calf/ankle/foot to GTFO so I can train the way my body wants and needs to. Best guess is posterior tibial tendonitis, but the label is less important than the treatment. For a few different reasons I am currently treating it myself. Treating is probably too strong a word since I have no medical skills to speak of. Rather, I am acting on the advice of medical professionals to do what I can on my own to heal, become stronger, and get back out there.

This is a conglomeration of things. Rest. Stretch. Drill. CROSSTRAIN. And because nothing exists in a vacuum, I am also working on nutrition, motivation, and mental toughness. An injury is a 24/7 exercise in mental toughness, for sure. Being able to control the controllables and letting go of the rest is crucial. It helps eliminate background noise and clarifies what I really to focus on. A narrowed focus also helps with motivation, no question. Adios extraneous crap! Don't let my foot kick you in the ass on the way out!

I'll get more specific in posts to come. Workout recaps. Introductions of awesome people (big and small!) that rock my socks. Race goals. All that good stuff. For now, I'll just brush off the dust and say hi! Or, welcome! Or, thanks for staying/returning! I missed you.

Shamrock Marathon 2013

I am usually much more on top of these race reports! Now that I have a backlog of two races, I need to get my butt in gear. After a few months of mediocre training (self-imposed), marathon weekend was suddenly here. Although the race wasn't until Sunday morning I decided to drive down Friday night. I wanted to hit the expo for a while, have some quality time by myself, and use Saturday to just chill with my feet up. The trip down took a little longer than expected, so I felt pretty rushed at the expo. On the upside, R had driven up from NC to race the marathon as well and we got some quality time together. We took a few laps around the expo, picking up some fun goodies, and then decided that we were in need of dinner. Cold beer and tacos at a hole in the wall 5 minutes from the expo center were the perfect end to my first day in VA Beach.

After sleeping in a bit at the hotel, I headed back to the expo for another trip through, more just to kill time and wait for my sister and brother-in-law to arrive. I spent money on a few things that I definitely didn't need but I was having a good time just being away from all the stress at home. Not ready to go back to the hotel, R and I went out to lunch and then grabbed some crucial pre-race fuel.

My family ran into a fair amount of traffic on the way to VA Beach and I was ready to put my feet up for the rest of the day, so R and I parted ways and I headed back to my hotel. Spent a few hours just relaxing, watching movies and messing around on the computer. Once my family arrived and got settled in to their hotel, I headed over for dinner. Between a grumpy baby and tired travelers, we decided to order food from the hotel restaurant and chill in their room. Food was okay, nothing special, but sufficient for what we needed.  Before long it was time for me to call it a night and head back to the hotel. I had a cold beer and more water, then climbed into bed. I slept better than I expected and was able to get out the door and on the hotel shuttle without incident.

Unfortunately, the shuttle got me to the start time really early, so I walked to my sister's hotel and napped on one of the beds while my brother-in-law got ready to go. Before long, it was time. As soon as we walked outside, it became apparent that the weather was not what we had been planning for.  The temperature was low, which isn't a big deal, but the wind was just brutal. I had a feeling that my throw-away jacket was not going anymore. My sister said her goodbyes and headed back to the hotel to get the baby back in the warmth. A and I huddled together with a few other runners against a building and then begrudgingly headed to our corral.

BRRRR. The race began with little fanfare and we were off. A and I separated fairly quickly, we had different race plans to execute. The first few miles passed pretty quickly and I didn't experience any of the usual issues that tend to creep up on my runs. There was not a lot of crowd support to be had, but I'd spent the majority of my long runs totally alone, so I was prepared. The course was flat, another reason why I signed up in the first place. The temperature didn't change but the wind backed off a bit around mile 8 or so, and I was tempted to lose the jacket. I opted to keep it on a little longer and it was a good thing I did. Once it was time to run back over the bridge on onto the main street again, the wind was in full force. The course diverted onto the boardwalk for a while but if anything that just made the wind worse. I couldn't look up from the ground, my hat was threatening to blow away, and I could only see the next step in front of me.

This was such a different experience from MCM. The crowds, the course, the weather, everything. I felt like I had to dig deeper and fight harder. It was much more of a mental challenge than a physical one. I think my favorite part of the race was somewhere around mile 18. At this point the course was really quiet. There were a fair number of runners but we were strong out along the road. I was starting to feel a little lonely, and suddenly these road signs started to appear. Every few feet, for I don't know how long, these signs with riddles and jokes were planted on the side of the road. They were all St. Patricks Day/Irish-themed and so bad. I started to looking forward to each one, laughing to myself and pushing through. It took my mind off the race for a while and that was greatly appreciated.

Rumor had it that once we got through this particular stretch of course, running on Fort Story and through to the Lighthouse, that the wind would finally work in our favor. Being the sucker that I am, I believed. The rest of the course is a straight shot down Atlantic Avenue until you're shuttled on to the boardwalk once more for the final .2 miles. I was so tired, and experiencing a good amount of general pain and discomfort, so I wasn't sure I had anything left. I definitely didn't have a great kick in the end, but I finished strong and was immediately relieved. My sister was waiting for me, with my nephew, and it was great to see them. I staggered, best as I could, down a few stairs onto the beach and into the warmth of the post-race tent.

Beer in hand, I met up with my brother-in-law and we exchanged quick race recaps. This was his first marathon and he really killed it. After the beer and some hot soup I was ready to retreat to the hotel. We limped (SWAGGER) back across the beach and into the hotel. So glad that they were staying pretty much at the finish line. One long hot shower later, I started to feel human again. My feet didn't fare quite so well. I'd been getting blisters throughout training and I thought I'd done a good job of bandaging the trouble spots before the race. Unfortunately, my feet blistered anyways, in all the bare space around the bandages. I was so annoyed. I had intentionally packed a pair of really comfortable flip flops in my race bag, so I was able to slip them on and get some relief. Little did I know I'd be spending the next week in them, as I couldn't wear normal shoes without pain. C'est la vie.

I think I was already looking ahead to the next race before I'd even ran this one. The training hadn't gone as planned and I'd had to adjust my expectations accordingly. There would be no PR and I was eventually ok with that. I came to VA Beach with a specific race plan and I executed it perfectly. At the end of the day, that is definitely a win. Now I need to buckle down hard, because the 50k is coming fast and I want to nail it. Stay with me, I've got another race report coming.

Where did you go?

Time flies when you are overscheduled. I have taken on so much in the last month or so and it will continue to be a crazy ride until the end of the summer. Mixing in marathon training with two jobs, an internship, and a part time graduate course load has been an enormous challenge, one that I am not quite meeting. Shamrock is 4 weeks out now and I run twice a week. This, needless to say, is not ideal. I might make it to the finish line, but it will certainly be at a price. I get to the track on Wednesday nights for a workout and then I hit my long runs on Saturday mornings. At the very least, I need one more run thrown in there just to be logging time on my feet. My body gets a rude shock every Saturday morning when I suddenly ask it go go from sloth mode into "let's run 18 today" mode.

As mentioned in my last post, I had/have a couple races coming up before Shamrock. The Reston 10 miler is still looming but I did finish the Run Your Heart Out 5k on February 10th. I had run 18 the day before so I was well aware that I wouldn't be in any condition to "race" this. It was more about getting a few more miles in and having some fun. The course is a convoluted out and back on a paved trail, small rolling hills for most of the time and quite narrow. Passing was no small feat. I started towards the back of the pack because I knew what my pace would be and didn't want the demoralizing experience of been blown by had I started in my "racing" spot. It wasn't any less crowded back there but I was able to settle in and get progressively faster with each mile and pass a good chunk of people. I was moderately pleased with my time, it was faster then the New Years Day 5k but not as fast as some of last year's efforts. For having run long the previous morning, I'll take it. The best part of the race wasn't even the running, it was the race pictures that I saw afterward.I had a clear shot at the camera as I came up the final *evil* hill so I gave my best rockstar smile and hoped I didn't look like a serial killer. I think I did ok. Of course, the photo uploader isn't working so you'll have to click HERE instead. Sorry.

I didn't run again until Wednesday's soggy track workout. The weather could not decide whether it wanted to rain or show, so it did both. I was supposed to do 3 2000m repeats with 3 minutes recovery in between but that was not going to happen. When I packed my bag that morning I just threw in the closest running clothes I could find and failed to check the weather. That meant that I was grossly underdressed. After the second 2000 I was soaked, freezing, and spent. The end. I went home and took the hottest shower I could stand instead. After that workout, life intervened once again and I worked two 13 hr days on Thursday and Friday, so no more runs until this past Saturday when 12 was on the schedule. When it came time to get up on Saturday morning, I just couldn't do it. I'd stayed up too late on Friday night having an emotionally exhausting conversation with a friend and it was just easier to bag it and sleep a few more hours instead.

I had to work so I was up at a reasonable hour but I should have run. I had the option of joining some co-workers on Sunday morning at the store to act as a pacer for a local tri group's run and decided that might be a good way to make up the miles and get paid to do it. Again, I should have checked the weather. It was in the 20s with ridiculous wind gusts that burned your face and took your breath away. The 9 mile route I planned on suddenly seemed sadistic. Nothing on my body would warm up, rather the muscles in my legs got tighter and tighter as the run went on. I made it to Rosslyn, turned around, and headed up Custis back to the store. There was no ideal way to get back there without a significant hill or two, so Custis seemed as good as any. I finished up with 6.3 miles and I'll just have to live with it. It certainly wasn't the mileage I needed to get but that is my fault. Hopefully I won't pay for this coming weekend when it is time to knock out 22. I think this week's track workout involves something wicked, such as 3200s. I'll be there and I'll do it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it, right?

In order to end on a high note and let you know a little something about my life beyond running, I have awesome news to share. I became an Aunt last week! His name is Ryan Andrew and he is the most perfect baby ever. I only got to spend about 36 hours with him and my sister but it was so worth it. I can't wait until Shamrock weekend because that is when I'll get to see him again. I'd love to share a photo with you but the damn uploader just won't cooperate. Trust me, he's adorable. Whenever I get stressed out about how crazy things are right now, I think of him and it calms me down; reminds me of what is really important. I'm sure pictures will find their way onto here, so keep an eye out for some baby cuteness.

9 weeks and counting!

Another blank span where running should have occurred. Oops. Life is a funny thing. After the New Years double, I hit the track workout on Wednesday, took off Thursday, and ran to work Friday. In hindsight that last run was a mistake. I'd spent the entire week in the Pure Cadence and my body is only used to doing one race in them at a time. At 4mm it is a departure from the other 12mm offset shoes that my body is used to. I paid quite the price on Friday and Saturday. The run to work on Friday dragged on as I quickly became overcome with calf pain. I knew it was the shoes but there was nothing I could do so I ran/walked the rest of the way to the store. Come Saturday morning I eased out of bed, hoping for relief. I felt mildly sore as I headed out but it wasn't until the long run group took off that I realized it was a no-go. 12 miles was the goal, 4 miles was the end result. Valuable lesson learned but another long run in the toilet.

Due to factors somewhat beyond my control (funerals suck) I ran a grand total of three miles last week. *high fives all around* One run to work. That's it. And the 14 miles that was supposed to happen that Saturday? Yeah...no. I bumped it to Monday morning and was going to have pleasant company but the weather and E's nagging ankle killed that one. Tuesday? Nada. Today? 7. No, really. Despite the rain, E and her friend J and I met at E's house and hit the streets. E graciously kept the pace slow and steady which allowed me to hang on for the entire run. It wasn't pretty, but it was done. I'd like to run to work at least once this week but logistics for that are not working out. C'est la vie. I just might have to put on my big girl panties and run before work instead.

However, in the midst of all the hoopla I had a nice surprise. My friend and Ragnar captain, C, and I have been meaning to get together for some time now. His lovely fiance needed new running shoes from the store and C said he had something for me. I hadn't the slightest idea what that could be but I quickly found out on Sunday afternoon. BOOM.

Yeah, that just happened. As a team we knew we had performed really well but I didn't expect any official acknowledgment from Ragnar. In case you can't read the print, it says that my team (heretofore including me) is officially badass. We took second place in the submasters division and for that effort received the lovely certificate and a special commemorative relay baton. Pretty neat, right? I was content with the bitchin' medal, but this is good too. Rumors of a 2013 team abound and once I know something, so will you.

Shamrock is a mere 9 weeks way and I am too embarrassed to tell you what my longest run has been. I am really feeling the pressure and it is all self-imposed. Despite training with a group I have just not pulled my own weight and that will become very evident on race day. No PR for this chicky. It sucks but it is my fault and I have 9 weeks to suck it up and come up with a plan B for race day. In the short term that plan involves attempting the 16-18 mile long run scheduled for Saturday morning. There are no foreseeable obstacles to physically getting to the run, just the usual surprise of not knowing what the run will be like until it actually starts. I plan on finding that precious balance between stupid and stubborn in terms of getting every mile done.

I've added a few more races to the 2013 docket, each either a tune-up for a bigger race or a quick recovery run. Up first is Run Your Heart Out 5k in Reston on February 10th. I don't know what my long run mileage will be the day before, but if my legs will permit it I plan to use this as a tempo run. The next race is the Reston 10 Miler on March 3rd. I should be in taper-town by then and hope to run the race as such. Once those two guys are under my belt, I tackle Shamrock. And before the bib comes off, training for the 50k begins. Right now the only race I'm considering between Shamrock in March and the 50k in June is part of the Backyard Burn series. May 5 in Fairfax Station, 5 miles on Fountainhead. My 50k training plan has me doing 26 miles the day before and calls for an hour long medium effort run on what happens to be race day. I think 5 miles on a trail fits the bill.

As you can see, I don't plan on loading up on races for the sake of racing. Each one I've picked out is serving a purpose for a larger goal. As long as I can keep my ego in check and run according to plan, I'll be golden. I don't have anything in April yet (probably going to pass on the Cherry Blossom bib exchange) and am open to suggestion. No, I don't want to race the GW Parkway, I've heard too many reports that have ended with the word "injured." The store has plenty up their sleeve (and I can race for free), but they are mostly 5ks and I'm not sure how that will fit in with the 50k timeline.

At any rate, that is the latest and greatest from me. Non-running life is a swirling top but I've found that is the way I like it. I start what I hope is a killer internship next week, so wish me luck! And yes, I'll be holding down two jobs and two grad classes at the same time while I pretend to train for this marathon. I know, I know. My mom already pointed out that I might be taking too much on. Moms are like that. But you don't know until you try, right? Fingers crossed!