This surgery was much easier than my Achilles. It was not nearly as painful. I had one rough day, but that was it.
However, this surgery, like the injury itself, delays the pain from too much movement until after the fact. I joked with my PT that it was like tequila, letting you know you’ve done too many hours later. I pay for it later if I move too much and jostle my foot in my cast.
Michael is a huge help. The surgery was on a Friday. On Tuesday, after helping with laundry, cooking, and vacuuming, Michael commented, “Mom does a lot.” He asks if I need help several times each day. I hate asking for help, but I’m getting better at it.
My kid is the most understanding teenager I’ve ever met. He didn’t complain when we canceled our vacation and gave up tickets to two new MLB stadiums and Green Day tickets. The kid is remarkably kind.
The timing of my last surgery was much easier for Michael. It was performed a week and a half before he went back to school. This time, surgery occurred the day after he got out for the summer. He’s stuck home with me.
Thank goodness I can drive this time.
The location of this surgery is different. The incision is on the outside of my foot. When it gets warm, which it has been, my foot sweats. When sweat hits the incision, it’s excruciating.
Mike has been a fucking rock star. He works an hour away from home. After working all day, he’s been taking Michael to the fields to practice baseball. Today, he got to work before 6:30 to leave early and take Michael to practice.
Getting outside each day is huge for my mental health.
Getting dressed in real clothes is also huge for my mental health.
There’s a lot of screen time, but I’m consciously staying on Apple News as much as possible rather than scrolling social media. I still manage to go days without opening Instagram.
Telling as few people as possible has been better for my mental health. I’m not concerned about who is or isn’t checking in. The people I know are in my closest circle, and they’re checking on me perfectly. I posted a story about my cast foot at the beach and deleted it twenty minutes later. I like being in my recovery bubble.
Kindles and Libby have made it overwhelming to select which book to read next.
We have almost every streaming service, but the TV stays on TBS most of the time. It’s easier than trying to pick out movies we will both want to watch. (While recovering from Achilles surgery, I watched every cheesy Rom-Com on Netflix.)
My backyard is beautiful. I’m so thankful that the previous owner created flowerbeds that we just need to maintain. And I’m sorry for anything we accidentally killed trying to figure out which plants were weeds and which were supposed to be there.
There’s a bone spur on the back of my left foot, almost as big as the one removed from my right (after it dug into and tore my Achilles). I know others have much worse problems, but I don’t want to do this a third time.
Despite my best efforts, I’ve gained five pounds since surgery. Add that to the five I’ve gained since my injury, and I’ve got my work ahead of me when I can start moving. I’m aware that the extra weight puts more stress on my body.
The AeroGarden I found at Savers for $6 last year has given me so much entertainment. I give poor Mike daily updates on my tomato babies. He’s the best and humors me with matched excitement.
I want to live my dog’s life. Banjo has it made and is always happy.
At this point, I’ve become an emotional houseplant; I move into and out of the sun and drink plenty of water.
Am I really postponing surgery for two weeks to take Michael to Fenway in hopes of meeting Bryce Harper? Hell, yeah, I am! And I hope it’s worth it!
Poor Mike will have to take care of everything for an entire summer (again).
Poor Michael will not have the summer we planned, even though we can have a few of our planned adventures.
How the hell did I get back here? I already recovered from this surgery, did all the PT, and worked to get back to normal. (insert pout here)
It’s my ankle. I will have pain for a few months, work through it, and move on with my life. It could be much worse. Remember how lucky I am.
After a few callbacks and biopsies, I’ve had three clear breast scans. Needing surgery on my ankle is the least scary outcome of this week’s doctor’s appointments and tests. I have no right to complain about having to have a tendon surgically repaired.
I’m going to watch so much television!
This time, while I’m recovering, I will read more books.
Even two and a half years post-surgery, my right leg is still skinnier than the left. At least the left will shrink while in a cast for six weeks.
I don’t want to start over again… I already did this work.
I’m almost positive this injury happened during a long run while training for NYC. Five miles into one of my best runs, I felt a pop and had to call Mike to get me. It was sore afterward, cramping if I pushed too far, making me scared to do more than a fast walk or slow jog so I could ensure I made it through the marathon.
My pain is real. Whenever I have such injuries, there is the fear of surgery and complications, but there is also the fear that there is nothing there and that this pain is something I’m exaggerating or imagining.
At least I already have the boot, so I don’t have to pay for another one.
Since I won’t be able to for the rest of the summer, I’m going to the beach as much as I can over the next three weeks.
Should I give up running? Do I want to go through surgery and rehabilitation and start over only to get hurt again?
Running a major marathon was something I never envisioned doing, but I have a medal to prove I did!
For years, I swore the universe would tell me when it was time to run the NYC Marathon. Each year, I would register for the lottery. Each year, I felt relief and disappointment when I was not selected.
I remembered about the selection this year when someone posted about it online. I checked my credit card throughout the day. Nothing. I was home with Covid and spent most of the day on the couch, idly surfing my phone. When I checked it one last time, there was a charge.
Holy crap! This was happening!
My first steps allowed me to shine where my strengths lie- certainly nothing involving running. Running the New York City Marathon requires so much planning. The race starts on Staten Island, so the first decision involves how to get there, either by bus or ferry. After reading blogs and learning that the ferry situation was a disaster the past few years, I decided to take the 6 am bus, even though it would get me there with hours to spare. I’d rather be early and find a spot to read a paperback than stress about being late.
My most challenging part of training was not the long runs, which is what you would expect to be difficult. My biggest struggle involved the short weekday runs. Michael is involved in cross country and baseball. He is also still attending physical therapy. So he had an activity every weekday. Although training was supposed to include multiple runs during the week, my training mainly consisted of long weekend runs.
My next situation involved where to stay. Since deciding to take the bus, staying near the New York Public Library bus pickup made sense. I found a small hotel and booked it immediately before prices increased due to demand.
I went into this marathon with one goal: to finish upright and uninjured.
The actual event exceeded all of my expectations. We arrived in the city Saturday around one and decided to divide and conquer. Mike and Michael went to the hotel to check in; I headed to the expo so that we were not lugging suitcases through the crowded expo. I refused to buy any finisher gear ahead of time and risk jinxing myself, so I purchased one T-shirt and headed out to look around. I refused to wait in the long lines; patience is not my strength. So, I did not get my picture taken with Elmo, in the NYRR props, or a few other cool opportunities. I did find my name on the wall. Like me, it was introverted and chose to hang out in the corner. My favorite moment was getting to meet Latoya Snell and Martinus Evans. I teared up a little.
I met up with the boys at the MLB Flagship Store. Seeing how Michael has grown since last visiting the city is funny. At our previous visit, he was all about the Nintendo Store. They spent over an hour scouring the jerseys, shirts, and hats. They found a hat representing the Salem Red Sox. Before heading to the city, the boys bought me a Mets hat to replace the Red Sox hat I usually wear while running. This hat, worn by my cousin’s son, seemed fitting. I was thankful they discovered it and hoped it would bring me good luck.
I had not made plans to eat anywhere in particular, so the next task was to find a good meal. Yelp directed us to Jackson Hole, which claimed to sell the best burgers in the city. (Cue the reference to How I Met Your Mother. “The best burger in New York comes from a place with a green booth and a picture of Regis Philbin.”) Jackson Hole did not disappoint! The burgers were huge. The fries were perfect. We ordered a deep cookie sundae for dessert. It was a perfect last dinner before the race.
I was terrified that I would not sleep, but sleep came easily. Daylight savings time ended that evening, which gave us an extra hour of sleep. It was interesting to hear people from other countries speak hesitantly about the time change as it is not recognized worldwide. It reminded me of high school seniors who attempt to sell first-year students rooftop pool passes. In all honestly, the concept does sound ridiculous.
Being me, I made sure to be out of the house early. My bus was supposed to pick me up at 6, so I ensured I was there at 5:40. I was quickly yelled at to get in the correct line. The right line spanned three city blocks! When it started moving, the line also wrapped around a building. After waiting for over an hour, I was on a bus. My first instinct was to panic that I wouldn’t make it to the bus on time, but no one else seemed concerned.
My bus arrived on Staten Island around 8:00. The village was vast and confusing, so I stayed where I felt comfortable. I had heard they offered Dunkin coffee and bagels and set out to find caffeine. I’d also been told about the beanies Dunkin gives out and that they are a small, silly souvenir. I attached mine to the elastic strings that were supposed to hold gels.
The waiting was better than I hoped. I had three and a half hours to kill before I started running. I’d picked up a paperback, intending to donate it before entering the start. When I arrived, prime space was limited, but I could secure a spot by the ledge of a parking lot. I waited until the bathroom lines died down before attempting them. So, I had plenty of time to sit, eat a bagel, and read. After a while, I could even upgrade to a grassy spot leaning against a tree. Being me, I did not attempt small talk.
I was concerned about my old, cracked phone running out of battery, especially in the city, and had packed several portable batteries. I brought the paperback book to ensure I was not tempted to play on my phone for several hours and drain the battery. This was not an issue because there was so little service in the village that I put my phone on airplane mode. Just trying to send Mike a text would use several percentages of battery. I was able to call him to explain the situation quickly.
After several hours of waiting, I almost lost my motivation to run. By the time I was running, I’d been up for seven hours and out of the hotel for six! I also nearly had my steps in for the day- just over 9,000. I had already experienced a day’s worth of excitement! However, it was finally time to line up and get ready to run.
The bridge was everything I’d hoped it would be. It was fantastic and beautiful. I was fortunate enough to start on the top of the bridge. The views were spectacular! I do kind of wish I had bothered to place myself better in front of the cameras when passing the photographers. Seeing other peoples’ bridge photos makes me wish I had better ones and had shamelessly jumped in front of the camera and posed like the people around me did.
I’ve never experienced crowd support like I did at this race. It was overwhelming at times and made using headphones impossible and useless. Some people complained about spectators pulling down the blue tape and spilling onto the street, but I loved it. Seeing people treat you like a star was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It motivated me to run faster. By the time I went through Brooklyn, I had established myself as a back of the packer, so there weren’t too many of us trying to get through at once. When I see footage of faster waves, I can understand why people running with a particular time goal were frustrated.
The New York City Marathon requires running over five bridges; the bridges also allow quiet breaks to reflect before returning to the crowds, creating the perfect balance for reflection and excitement.
There was a November Project group at mile 14. I was emotional and drained, so seeing my friend Kerri at the moment was everything! I don’t know her very well, but I grabbed onto her and almost sobbed. As a fellow runner, she was pretty understanding. I saw my old friend Liz at mile 16 and a dear friend, Maria, right after. Knowing that they waited for me meant the world to me.
As always, the hardest part of the race came around mile 18, when you’re exhausted but still have many miles ahead of you. Surprisingly, they went by pretty quickly. Runners go through the Bronx and Queens at the end of the race. The energy was contagious and well-needed in the home stretch. Finally, I reached Central Park. I saw Michael and Mike at the last corner. By this point, I just focused on finishing the last bit of distance.
Crossing the finish line felt like everything I imagined. I’ve seen so many pictures of the area. I received my medal, then a cover-up jacket. As we wrapped up, my fellow finishers and I looked like a strange tribe of orange zombies. I wish I had the energy to take a picture; we were a sight!
My only hiccup came when trying to meet Michael and Mike. I knew the race sold spectator tickets but didn’t realize that the finisher’s area was closed, so they couldn’t get into Central Park. We tried to find each other, with Mike finally seeing my location from my phone and telling me to stay put. I leaned against a barrier. When I saw them, I stood up and passed out. Thankfully, Mike was there to make sure I was okay and get me back to my hotel.
I can now say that I have run a major marathon. I was not fast. I did not PR. But I set a goal and conquered it. Sometimes, getting through is the goal. And I reached my goal!
Every year, I register for the lottery to run the New York City Marathon. Even though 50,000 runners run through the boroughs on the first Sunday in November, only 2% of lottery applicants are accepted. So the odds are not in your favor that signing up for the lottery affords you acceptance. Each year, I look at my chances like fate; if I am meant to run another formal marathon, I will be selected. And each year, I check my credit card throughout the day, relieved and disappointed that the coveted charge from NYRR never appears. (NYRR tells people to do this as the confirmation emails are sent at the end of the day.)
This year, announcement day fell on a day I was home with Covid. This time, Covid hit me hard- fever, chills, low oxygen, the works. I had forgotten it was lottery day until someone posted about it. I checked my credit card statement. Nothing. I checked a few hours later. Nothing. I had begun to think I had again missed selection when I checked my card one more time. There was the pending charge, just two transactions above my $35 purchase at Crumbl Cookies.
Over the past few years, I have not been anything close to what I would consider a “real runner.” Will I ever really feel like one? Covid and injuries took their toll on my running mojo. However, I’ve had the running bug. My foot has healed completely; I need to find my motivation and run. I’ve had the itch to work towards another marathon and considered signing up for a virtual one. It’s not that I was against an in-person event. I was nervous about completing it alone, taking too long, and being swept.
Every year, when I sign up for the NYC Marathon lottery, I explain that fate tells me when to run a marathon. This is my year! My only goal for this year is to finish – preferably before the busses running the sweep come to offer me a ride to the finish line.
I am also aware that I am alone while training for this marathon. When I signed up for Philly, I signed up with a friend and promised we would tackle a lot of training together. No promises exist this time. I know that the mental portion of this round of training will be challenging, especially as I create a training schedule around Michael’s AAU baseball schedule.
The solo round will be different, But as I over plan for the weekend, book my hotel, and debate the important decision about getting to Staten Island via the very early bus or the ferry, I am nervously excited to embark on another round of marathon training!
While training for my first half, I wrote weekly updates, reveling in my progress as I ran further than I previously had. I had every intention of doing the same thing while training for the marathon. However, the work/home/training routine only had so much give and it just didn’t happen. Before I forget the little details, I need to recap the first (and possibly only) time I ran a marathon.
When Mike and I did our last run Friday night, I was surprisingly fast. After weeks of running for distance, running faster felt good. We headed down to Philadelphia the next morning, arriving a little after one. Whenever the option allows, we stay at a Holiday Inn Express so we can eat our weight in cinnamon rolls each morning. After checking in, I watched Liam get so excited about the printed card listing all of the channels, forgetting that our digital age never requires them for him. “Look, we’re at a fancy hotel that gives us the list of channels!” We have really raised the bar when it comes to lodging.
We headed to the expo, but it was close to the end by the time we arrived. I picked up my packet, feeling self-conscious that there was a long line for the small shirts but walked right up to the people manning the large shirt line. I had wanted to pick up a shirt at the expo, but almost everything was picked over. It was still fun to walk around and explore. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a holiday area downtown. Mike and Liam rode the Ferris Wheel and Liam and I rode a merry-go-round. It was a nice distraction. I tried my best to hide the fact that I was really starting to get nervous. Throughout the training, I had been much calmer than expected; going to the expo made everything real!
After going back to the hotel to drop off my stuff, we met a few of the elite runners. They were heading out for a run; we were heading out to dinner. We chatted in the elevator; they laughed at my joke about us obviously being in different starting corrals as Mike, Liam, and I made our way to Shake Shack for burgers, shakes, and fries.
In spite of my nerves, I managed to fall asleep fairly early only to wake up at 3:15 to the sounds of the fire alarm and an announcement to evacuate. I contemplated getting my race clothes on in case we couldn’t get back into the hotel, but left the building in my flannel llama PJs and hoodie. We all stood in the stairwell, me trying not to cry. Twenty weeks of training only to not be able to make it to the starting line. As the alarm went off and on a few times, we were unsure whether we could get back into the hotel or if we had to go out into the cold, rainy street. After walking back up to the tenth floor, we discovered that the fire exits were locked. Someone called the front desk, asking if they could send someone around to open the doors. They refused, forcing us to walk down the ten flights of stairs again, into the street to the lobby, and wait with all the other guests for the three elevators.
I got back to my room five minutes before my alarms were supposed to go off. I took a quick shower and got ready. Liam was tossing in his bed. Mike joked that he would rather run twenty-six miles than deal with Liam if he didn’t go back to sleep. Knowing he’d never go back to sleep while I was moving around, I left at 5, just in time to catch the first shuttle to the race.
I was one of the first people to arrive at the race, going immediately to the tents set up to keep us dry. To avoid small talk, I went to the back and sat at a table by myself, putting my head down to rest and resist the urge to mindlessly surf my phone, not wanting to drain my phone’s battery. As the tent filled, two other first time marathoners sat with me. I was actually happy to chat with them a few minutes before heading to the porta-potties about 6:10.
This was my only complaint about the race: since it started at 7, 6:10 should have allowed plenty of time to do my business and get to the starting line. NOPE. I didn’t finish until 7:05, leaving my discombobulated and struggling to get to the line as the third wave of runners took off. I was disorientated and panicked. Philadelphia Marathon officials, we need more porta-potties!
I stood in line by myself, having missed the chance to meet up with friends due to a fifty-five-minute potty break. I snapped a quick selfie and posted it to Facebook. It was time for the very last leg to begin. I looked for people I knew at the starting line, unable to find a familiar, friendly face.
We were off! I was fully aware that I was running way too fast, ignoring my plan to do walk/run intervals. I ran the first three miles before I made myself walk for a minute. As I passed long lines at the porta-potties along the course, I was thankful I waited an hour to go before the start. At mile four, I passed my first beer station.
A friend told me that Philly is his “second favorite marathon.” I can totally understand why. There were so many people cheering us on. I passed a church that set up a tent so their choir could perform as racers ran by. There was a line of people cheering and handing out bracelets. It was one of my favorite moments of the race! As I ran much faster than I planned, I got nervous about Mike, who agreed to meet me at mile six before taking Liam to the Linc to see the Eagles’ stadium. However, I didn’t know if they fell back to sleep. If they did, I was afraid of waking them up and making Liam miserable. I wasn’t sure whether to text him and let him know I was ahead of schedule and risk waking them up. My worries were unnecessary; Mike and Liam were right where they said they would be. I hugged Liam so hard, trying not to cry. Mike scolded me, “Slow down!” and I was off.
The miles went by. I went between taking my throwaway hoodie off and on. I took in the scenery while listening to my super guilty pleasure running playlist. As I reached mile fourteen, I received a text from Mike letting me know that he passed the elite runners back at the hotel. Around mile sixteen, the weather changed. I’d stalked the weather all week as it varied between scattered showers, partly cloudy, and downpours. At 6:00 that morning, it was supposed to be clear until 10:00 before a chance of showers and 43 degrees. As I started to get hit by pieces of ice, it became very clear that the forecast changed. As I tried to confirm that it was, in fact, hail, I received a text from Katie about the “f**king hail.”
The last ten miles sucked! It was cold. Hail slapped me in the face thanks to heavy winds. Due to the weather, the crowds thinned out- who could blame them? Running in this was terrible; standing around in it sounds even worse! Whenever I passed a cheer or water station, I made sure to thank everyone there. My favorite was at mile eighteen, people were dressed up in funny onesies and handing out beer. I took a beer from a girl dressed as a turkey, instantly regretting not getting a selfie. The beer was amazing! At mile nineteen, I made my up a hill that leads to the turnaround to the finish. A man looked at me, stepped towards me, and yelled, “Today’s the day you’re going to become a marathoner!” I was ready to start sobbing until I realized that it was painfully clear I’d never done this before. But I didn’t work this hard to only run twenty miles- I had to keep going! I switched from my music to my current audiobook, The Brief and Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao, read by Lin-Manuel Miranda, which seems fitting since Hamilton has been a huge part of my running journey.
Around mile twenty-one, it was clear that I had been weaving to avoid puddles as my GPS was almost a half-mile off. At mile twenty-five, I finally dropped my hoodie. It served me well and kept me warm and dry.
I know the goal of the marathon is supposed to be to complete it. However, my first goal was 5:45 but I really wanted to finish by 6:00. My best half was 2:40; I’m not a fast runner! I took a picture of the Garmin at 26.2 miles- only six minutes off from my goal. Considering the weather, I’ll take it! By the time I finished the race, I’d run 26.92 miles!
My friends surprised me at the finish line. It felt so good to hear people screaming my name!
Here’s where it became a blur. When I signed up for the race, Mike and I discussed the logistics, trying to decide if we should stay one or two days. I said that I wanted to stay the second night because I wanted my moment after the race. I wanted to stay and enjoy myself after the finish; I had worked hard, dammit! However, after crossing the finish line, the temperature dropped and I wanted to get out of there! After quick hugs, I immediately wanted to go back to the hotel and take the longest shower ever! I did not walk through the race area or take my picture with the Rocky statue- nothing. I just wanted to warm up!
The next morning, I was amazed as I looked at my body in the unforgiving hotel bathroom light. While I hoped to lose a few pounds through training, I’d read a few blogs in which people admitted they gained weight during training due to excessive hunger. I was more concerned with building strength than losing weight. As I looked at myself, I admired my curves and muscles for the first time in a while. I’ve always struggled with weight and body image. Because I have a lot of muscle, the number on the scale often seems higher than I think I look, although maybe this is something I tell myself to feel better. I made myself take a few pictures to remember the body that ran a marathon the previous day. I told Mike I was going to try on my wedding dress when I got home. He laughed, thinking I was kidding. I was not!
I weigh fifteen pounds more than I did on my wedding day, but my dress fits!
I asked Mike to drive me to the race start the next morning. I wanted to see the race area and build a sense of the starting line. On the way home, we stopped three times to stretch. It took three days before I could walk without feeling any soreness.
I don’t know if I would do this again. If I do, it will not be until Liam is a lot older. While the runs themselves were not terrible, it took a lot of time, eating large chunks of our weekends. Mike was amazing through training, taking care of Liam and the house for hours each weekend. I am incredibly thankful to him; I would never have been able to accomplish this without him.
It is amazing to think that I only had to run a marathon one time to bask in the glory forever! For a nerdy, overweight child, the word “marathoner” never seemed in the realm of possibility. But here we are, with the sticker on the car to prove it!
I am eternally grateful to everyone who helped me through this journey. I received so much support and guidance through this. I am beyond thankful to be surrounded by people who are rooting for me, who want to me succeed.
Last year, when I signed up for my first half marathons, I didn’t really tell anyone outside of my running friends. Mike made sure everyone knew, bringing it up in conversations with friends. “Guess what Kerri’s doing?” It made me nervous to have so many people know about my plan. What if I was the last one to cross the finish line? What if I failed? As the weeks of training passed, I became more confident in my ability, trusting that I would definitely finish. As I am less than a month away from my third half, it is time to find that faith in myself again.
A friend and I applied for the New York Marathon Lottery. The odds of getting in were slim, but it seemed like a good chance to let fate decide if we were ready to run a full marathon.
“Do you think you’ll get in?” Mike asked before the drawing.
“Probably not. There are a lot of names in the lottery.”
Prim said the same thing,” he reminded me.
On the day of the drawing, I left the NYRR site open on my computer, checking it every so often. By the end of the day, we were officially told that we were not among the nine percent of entrants who won a spot in the marathon. We both thought we would be relieved. Instead, we were both disappointed and began looking at other marathons, deciding on Philadelphia. It’s flat and is known for a fun atmosphere. After texting about it for a day, we decided to register. We decided to be geeks and also order marathon training shirts.
We researched training plans, deciding on a twenty-week plan the seemed quite manageable. Perfect timing aligns the training of the half and full marathons; the day we complete the half begins the training for the full.
Even though I have a training plan, paid for the race, and booked a hotel, it still does not seem real. Based on my half marathon times, I should be able to complete the full in six and a half hours. However, my goal is simply to finish. Registration requests a six-teen minute mile pace, but people went over that in last year’s results. I know I can do that.
I am still wondering why I thought this was a good idea. Here are my best thoughts:
To prove to myself that I can. Each time I do something out of my comfort zone, the feeling of accomplishment makes me want more experiences.
Never did I envision me as a runner. As a chubby kid who preferred sitting and reading books, I had panic attacks over gym class, especially when the Presidential Physical Fitness testing time rolled around. To make matters worse, my maiden name began with an A, making me the first kid to have to attempt each activity. The class stood around watching me try to complete sit-ups or pull-ups. It was humiliating and stress-inducing.
I want to prove to myself that I can set and meet seemingly impossible goals.
I want Liam to see that I can reach difficult goals. He is my cheerleader. He writes me notes of encouragement, offers encouragement, and celebrates successes with me. I want him to see the value of setting goals and working to reach them.
Today, we took Liam to the Boston Museum of Science, his reward for a stellar report card. Because the Boston Marathon is next week, they were offering a bunch of marathon-related activities. Liam was able to learn how bib chips work. I was excited to see a presentation called “How to Train for a Marathon.” When we went back to the area for the session, the gentleman leading the session, Rick Murh, was there and came over the chat.
“What made you decide to go for the full marathon?” he asked me.
“I signed up for the New York City Marathon lottery. I thought I would be relieved when I didn’t make it in, but instead, I was sad.”
“That’s how you know you’re ready.”
Murh explained that he has trained over 20,000 people to run marathons. When people ask if they are ready, he explains, “You’ve got everything it takes but it will take everything you’ve got.”
After explaining about proper form, cadence, negative splits, he shared a secret he tells all first-time marathon runners. When people ask “What was your time?” he tells people to say, “The time of my life.” His goal is for runners to have the time of their lives.
As I transition from half marathon to marathon training, I need to remember those two pieces of perspective.
World's Okayest Runner 