Finding the motivation to run / work out can be tough for me, as it is for almost everyone. I need something tangible to work towards; a hike, a race, etc. I signed up for the City Sports 5k run to benefit the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings, but overwhelming number of people that signed up forced the event to be cancelled for safety reasons. The Spartan Race was a 5k distance, but didn't require running the entire time. I needed something else.
A few weeks ago I got an email from City Sports for an ongoing series of free 5k's and decided, hey, why not? I had made plans to sign up for like five different races with Jaime and never followed through for a variety of reasons, so I asked her to run this one with me.
Reebok One Series Shoe
I felt underprepared. It was only 3 miles, sure, but I hadn't been running on a steady schedule. When I was running I would do about 2 - 2.5 miles before calling it quits. It was only 5 days after my Spartan and my muscles were just back to normal again. My goal was to just run the whole thing, no matter how slow my time was.
This 5k fun run (not race) was a wear-test for the new Reebok One Series shoe. We arrived at the City Sports store on Boylston St., where we had the option to swap out our shoes and wear the Reebok's for the run. Luckily they had my size, so I decided to wear the new shoe. Several people approached me while we hung around the store with the crowd of runners waiting for the run to begin. I was wearing my Spartan headband, partially because I'm a tad bit superstitious and I had a good run at the Spartan and partially because I lost my only other decent headband. It was the best conversation starter short of a cute dog. A handful of people had run the Spartan the same day as I had, and a few were running the Fenway one as well. One of the employees found me for a second time in the crowd. He was muscular, fit, obviously very athletic and strong... and he was nervous about running his first Spartan in November at Fenway. He wanted training tips from me. I tried not to laugh in his face (in a good way), and told him if I could do it then he could ABSOLUTELY do it. It was mildly flattering, though.
The Esplanade
The course was essentially a big rectangle around Back Bay, and I made sure to commit it to memory before we started because I assumed I would not keep up with the faster people (I was correct). One of the designers of the shoe was there and gave us a quick blurb about it, then promised us the best run of our lives. HA, OKAY. The gang of 30ish+ runners (I'm not a great estimator) stayed together for the first mile or so since we kept getting stopped at lights, but once we hit the Esplanade the groups split up. I knew from running at home that if I ran too fast in my first mile that I would burn out, so I was a little concerned when the MapMyRun voice said my split pace was 10:30 at the first mile (a decently quick mile for me). I picked a group ahead of me, decided to keep up with them, and tried to enjoy the run. The Esplanade is quite pretty, after all. By the time we reached the Mass. Ave Bridge I realized I wasn't in the fast group, but I wasn't last. Good enough for me.
Success
I surprised myself by doing a faster second mile, and then an even faster third mile. I attribute that to not getting stopped at any crosswalks, as we had several times in the beginning. If I had to stop at a crosswalk I don't think I would have run the whole thing.
I was curious to see how I would do in a group setting. I seemed to have some source of untapped energy during the Spartan race (adrenaline, I'm sure), and the same happened in this run. I wasn't in a large group, but I didn't want to be the one that stopped to walk. Maybe it's the competitive spirit in me, or maybe I'm vain, but it worked!
It was only a 5k, sure, but it was an accomplishment for me. I achieved my goal of not stopping to walk and I set a personal best. The shoes were great, and I did have my best time for that distance so far. I hesitate to attribute that solely to the shoes, but they certainly didn't hurt!
We grabbed our stuff, I exchanged my shoes, and we were about to head out when I remembered that I had submitted a raffle ticket when we first got there. I was meeting a friend for drinks and food, which I was eager to consume both of, and I've never won a raffle. Just as we were about to leave they announced they would be doing the raffle outside, so I called my friend and told him I would be leaving in a few minutes, ending with "I don't know, I feel lucky today". The first prize was two entry bibs to the Tufts 10k. I looked over at Jaime and said, "If I win this I will be livid. I'll pass." The first name was called, and called again, but no one responded.... so another name was picked. Mine. The first raffle prize I ever win in my 23 years on this planet and it's two entries to a 10k.
Damnit.
Now I have to run a 10k.
Well, guess I have something else to train for. I'm smiling, I swear.
I signed up for the New England Spartan Sprint a few months ago with (at the time) a group of "new friends". Some I had known for a little while longer, but they weren't the group of people I was hanging out with a lot (now I love them all dearly). I was hiking a decent amount at the time, but my running was still not that great. I said "sure, why not" and signed up on a whim. I quickly realized the team name was their Fraternity name, meaning it would be all boys. I pleaded with the other girl in the room to please, please sign up so I wouldn't be the only girl. I knew at least two of the people on the team were military veterans, and I assumed that meant they could whoop my ass. I didn't want to be the only girl.
But alas, I was the only girl, and I was determined to show I could keep up with the boys. My preparations started about a month before the race. I knew I couldn't just rely on being a quick runner and relatively light, I had to be strong. I started adding weights to my workouts and tried to get the gym as often as possible. I told myself I would get in a few sessions with a personal trainer at my gym, but work got in the way. I started working around 50 hours a week, usually 7 days a week, so it was tough to find time to get to the gym at all. I was nervous, but I found myself getting excited. I kept talking to my family about it, boasting that I was the only girl on a team with all boys. My cousin was also running, and it happened that he was the heat after mine. We kept up a friendly smack-talk in the weeks leading up the race, and though he threatened to "bring a broom to sweep me off the course" I felt better knowing I would have a family member there.
I kept drifting back the Spartan website while I was at work. I came across the video above and I must have watched it five times in a row. It almost brought a tear to my eye... half inspirational-tear, half oh-shit-you're-an-idiot tear. A wave of self doubt crashed over me - why in the HELL did I think I was qualified to do anything like this??? I found solace in the fact the website said almost everyone that starts the Sprint finishes. Still, I hadn't been in a "race" since my days of track & field many years ago, and nothing this "tough".
Another big change I made during my preparations was say goodbye!!!!! to my scale. I had been so focused on the number that hitting a certain weight took priority over my overall fitness. I hit the plateau and I had to have been gaining muscle, therefore losing no weight and gaining a few pounds from time to time. Finally, I realized it was stupid to be getting so frustrated over the number. I quit the scale cold turkey and focused on my overall fitness and strength instead. I weighed myself this morning after not having done so for over a month, and I gained five pounds but I feel much stronger.
I was not as prepared as I would have liked going into the race, but one thing I could do was carb-load. Jaime and I went to Sweet Cheeks for BBQ the night before, and I ate my weight in pulled pork. I was uncomfortably full for the rest of the night and had to force myself to drink water. I waddled into bed around 10pm and noticed my throat was burning. REALLY, I thought, I'M ACTUALLY GETTING SICK. REALLY. I was on the verge seeing my pulled pork in reverse, and seriously thought that between my throat and full stomach I would not make it to the race. I drifted off into a meat-coma and had a very restless, uncomfortable sleep. My throat was still aching in the morning and it was tough to get in a satisfying breath. I thought there was no way I could race like that. But the rest of me felt fine, I was a little tired but I didn't have the telltale fatigue or pains of being sick aside from the throat. I decided it was "just allergies" and pulled myself out of bed. No way was I going to pay $100 for a race and then lay in bed all day instead. I would not let a group of boys say "oh, what a girl" (I doubt they would have seriously been mad at me, but I let it serve as my motivation).
I was meeting my teammates at their place to drive up, and before I left I watched the new video on the Spartan website for some last-minute inspiration. I mostly watched in terror at some of the obstacles I would inevitably face in a few hours, but one line stuck out to me: "Nobody will hit you harder than life, but it ain't about how hard you're hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward." I've had emotional "hits" in my life, as everyone has, but it's rare that I'm faced with a physical challenge that really beats me down. The adrenaline overpowered my inability to take a deep breath, and I thought yeah, I'm gonna rock this today. It's gonna hurt, but I'm gonna rock it.
Our drive up was marred with bouts of serious traffic, and what should have been less than an hour turned into a two hour trip. We arrived with only a half hour to spare before our heat, which left me frantically taping my knees with KT tape and sports wrap (my cousin would later say "I thought I saw you when you walked in, but I wasn't sure. Then I saw your legs were all sorts of taped up and I knew it had to be you"). We dropped off our bags and headed to the start line to stretch for a few precious moments before our heat began. There was a customary get-hyped-up speech, and just like that we were off.
Up, Under, Through
We were off. Uphill. Our team split into two and I stayed with my friend Dennis and Chris, both military men that I was confident were experienced enough to guide me through the course, and could throw my ass over a wall if necessary (it was). Our first obstacle was three walls, over one, under one, through one. Not too bad, I thought. We continued into the woods for some technical trail running, which proved tricky with some very muddy sections, rocks, and roots. We came to a split in the trail; left promised to be shorter but more technical, right was easier but longer. We went left. My cousin told me that going left meant navigating down a near vertical descent, so I started to worry for the old knees. I realized at this very early point in the race that I had an ability a lot of people did not, the ability to be unphased by hills. Of course there were people smokin' me left and right, but it seems like the hills really killed a lot of people. It was challenging, no doubt, but being a hiker gave me a huge advantage in that area. The "difficult downhill section" was no more than a little 5 foot hill that was easily navigated by a controlled slide on the butt. I chuckled thinking about descending Mt. Lafayette's loose rock for miles and miles, now THAT was a difficult descent.
Just as unpleasant as it looks.
After some more hills we popped back out of woods and to one of my most feared obstacles - the rope climb. Spartan Race is unique in each failed obstacle requires a set of 30 burpees. I was determined to only do one set at the javelin throw (more on that later). I tried to channel my inner-gymnast that could scurry up a rope like it was nothing. Starting a pool of murky, muddy water was not helpful, and I was sure that the spectators standing nearby would get a lovely show of me flailing backwards into a pool of brown. Before I knew it I was somehow halfway up the rope with only two more knots before the bell. How the hell did I just manage that? I thought. I took a breather and noticed a woman beside me struggling make the last push to ring the bell. She gave up just a few feet from the top. I wondered why, then I looked up and realized there was no knot that high up, and getting to the bell meant free-climbing the last few feet. Thankfully I was able to dig deep and pull myself up.
Look at how much fun they're having!
I got to the water station and to the next obstacle before my teammates, but I figured I should take the head start since our next task was to carry a bag full of sand up and down the hill. The boys undoubtedly had a heavier bag than I, but my hiker-legs really helped me again. It was certainly a lighter weight and much shorter distance than some of the packs I've hiked with. I waited for the boys to finish and started scoping out our next obstacle, the traverse wall. I immediately cursed myself for underestimating how hard it would be, and the failure rate seemed quite high. I decided to wait for my comrades and not tackle this one on my own.
Damn you, traverse wall.
The boys went before me and did it successfully. They told me to keep three points of contact on the wall at all times, hold my body as close the wall as possible, and keep my weight in my legs. I spider-manned my way onto the wall and it became a game of Twister as they told me where to move each body part. "Okay, left foot now"... and the hold my left foot was going to seemed impossibly far away. I knew I couldn't just sit there, so I went for it and made it. This continued for most of the wall; I was about halfway when my arms started to burn. I knew most of my weight should be in my legs, but all four limbs were clutching on for dear life and my arms turned into wet noodles. I fell with only one or two moves left before dinging the bell. I heard Chris and Dennis praise my attempt, but I went into a rage, punched the wall, and dropped a very loud F-bomb (sorry, kiddos). Burpees it was. I was mad at myself for not being able to physically complete it, and for underestimating the obstacle, but in the midst of my burpees I remembered it was more important to brush off defeat and keep going despite my noodly arms.
We immediately came to a steep but easy climb up a 30-ish-foot ladder, across the top, and down the other side. Those with a fear of heights would not appreciate this much, but I scurried up and down pretty quickly. We jogged uphill to a muddy wall with ropes (not as big as the one to the left, but the same idea). I had seen people do it before and knew I had to keep my feet in front of me, lest I fall and smack my face on the wall. Surprisingly I made it up in one shot and once we were all over we climbed the rest of the hill and went back into the woods for a quick run to a field that held the muddiest obstacles.
No one came out this clean.
We slid downhill to meet our first "big mud obstacle", a series of dirt mounds and dips into brown, muddy water. There were four pits of the murky water, each one deeper than the last. Between each mini-mud-lake was a pile of wet dirt and mud to climb over. By the last pool of water we were up to our stomachs in the stuff. I pulled myself out and realized I had no hope of clearing the muck out of my shoes or shorts; I would just have to deal with it for the rest of the course.
Ours was much higher!
I jogged over to the next obstacle while my teammates tried to clean our their shoes a bit. It was a wall, and I figured I might be able to get over it without their support. The closer I got the more I realized that was not the case - it was an inverted wall that I couldn't even see over. There was no way I was making it over alone. "Hey, you guys have to throw my ass over this", I yelled as they jogged over. My teammate Chris went first and made it to the top with a helpful shove from Dennis. I spider-manned myself onto the first hold for the second time that day, and once I was off the ground Dennis quite literally shoved my ass the rest of the way. Dennis made it up and over on his own (what a beast!). I stood there cheering him on and eagerly bouncing around, and he told me I had way too much energy. Not bad for someone who seriously thought they wouldn't even make it to the course. There was a water station in sight, but first we had to do our first crawl under wire. Thankfully, this wasn't barbed wire and it was high enough that you didn't have to be on your stomach. It was more of an inconvenience than a challenge, but it did get us a tad more muddy. After stopping for water we jogged back into the woods for a very, very muddy, slippery, rocky, and hilly trail run. I was as careful as I could be, because I didn't want my future to include a twisted knee or ankle. I ran as much as I could, but traffic and slippery conditions slowed everyone down until our next obstacle...
Up and over the 8 footer!
...pulling a giant rock. It was unpleasant, but not considerably difficult. I heard that it was a much shorter distance than years past, and I wasn't complaining! We dipped back into the woods for a bit before our next challenge - the 8 foot wall. I was once again thankful for having two teammates much stronger than I. There was a "girls" section, and females were allowed to use two red blocks on the wall to help themselves to get over. Dennis looked at me and said, "uh uh. You are not using those." I attribute my getting over that wall to him, though, because he threw me on his shoulder like we were playing chicken which allowed me to reach the top of the wall and haul myself over. I dropped down the other side and hit the ground a little harder than I would have liked, but thankfully my joints held up just fine. Once we were all over we hopped on the trail again to our next obstacle, hauling a concrete block up in the air via a pulley, then lowering it back down. The girls one was almost too easy, and I pulled it up and down quite easily. The boys one, on the other hand, was apparently much heavier than years past. I watched as ten very muscular men struggled to haul the block up with their entire weight on the rope.
Damn monkey bars.
After the boys defeated the blocks we were greeted with what I'm convinced was mud-quick-sand. It was thick, nasty black mud that claimed many shoes and sufficiently annoyed us for about 100 feet. The more you struggled to get out the quicker it sucked you in. It was, in short, disgusting, so I was not happy when Dennis came up behind me with two handfuls and rubbed the stuff down my back. He reminded me that I was already covered in mud, so I let him give me some "war paint" on my face with the mud as they had done to theirs. I was ready to go on a date. My good spirits fell as I saw our next challenge - the monkey bars. I used to be able to swing around monkey bars like... well, a monkey. But it had been years and my arms were spent. I saw burpees in my future. My gloves were caked in my dried mud, and I slipped off on the first one. I took my defeat much better this time, I managed to not punch anything or scream expletives. After my burpees we started our last leg of the journey with about 1/4 mile or so of uphill trail. The boys certainly had me beat in strength, but I think I had them beat in uphill endurance (to be fair, Dennis was coming off of a sickness and was carrying a CamelBak, which added weight). I valued the team atmosphere and I certainly didn't want to do it without them, but I wanted to challenge myself. I ran up the hill just to see if I could - turns out I could.
SUCCESS (that's not me, though)
I was greeted with a tire pull, which required us to drag a big tire out until the rope was taught, go back, and haul the tire back in. Not so bad. But out of the corner of my eye I saw our next obstacle, the dreaded javelin throw. It wasn't very physically challenging, just throw a spear at a bale of hay, but I only had one chance and I figured there was no way in hell I could do it. It also looked incredibly badass in 300, and I knew I couldn't be that badass. There was a special section roped off for people to do burpees. Great. I looked back to see my teammates catching up after their tire pull, and I realized I wasn't going to fail in private. I picked up a javelin (really a glorified pointy broomstick), stepped up to the front, and tossed it. I watched it glide effortlessly through the air as in in slow-motion and stick firmly into the bale of hay. If ever there was a Hulk moment in my life, it was me cheering (manly screaming) after that javelin stuck. I went into this absolutely 100% sure I would fail at that, and I didn't. It was not the most physically challenging thing by far, but it was the most satisfying. Take that, bale of hay.
Misery.
I went down the "non-burpees" path with a spring in my step, but the spring was quickly diminished by the sight of our second-to-last obstacle - the barbed wire crawl. It didn't look too bad, I thought, but from what I had seen online it seemed like it would be miserable. I shouted back to my teammates that I would start since it might take me longer, and leapt over a huge bale of hay into the mud. Ah, not that bad, it's kinda short! I thought. I got on stomach and army crawled under the wire to a little mud hill. I should mention that it's not just mud, it's mud and rocks.... lots of rocks. Lots of tiny little rocks scraping you with every movement. Lots of big rocks to knock your elbows on. Lots of rocks. I pulled myself up on the hill, and what seemed "not that bad" was suddenly "oh shit, are you kidding me?" I heard through the grapevine that the total thing was 1/4 mile long. It. Was. Miserable. One of the best ways to do it is turn sideways and roll. I did that after getting my hair caught in the barbed wire and having to get it out with my face in the mud. I bad to flip back onto my stomach a few feet before a deep brown, murky water pit. The last few feet were filled with hundreds of tiny rocks just below the mud. It was like pulling myself across a cheese grater. I slid down into the water towards a big wall - a wall that you could only get around by full immersing yourself in the mud-water and swimming under it. I stood there for about 30 seconds simply because I knew how disgusting it would be when I got to the other side. Disgusting, it was. I emerged on the other side in complete darkness - my sunglasses were completely covered in the brown water (as was my whole body). I took them off and staggered around blindly for a minute before finding a discarded shirt. I found a small clean patch that was just enough to clean the crap off of my sunglasses and allow me to not finish the race blind as a bat.
Fire jump!
After regrouping for a lovely mud picture, we proceeded to our last big obstacle - the fire jump. The path to get there was short but very muddy, and I was taken out by a guy who tried to run down it and fell. Thankfully I was already practically on my ass, because I would have ended up there anyway. The jump over the fire looks pretty badass, but it's not a huge jump. The difficulty came from running through water to get up to it, and from the unfortunate winds that blew all of the smoke into our faces. Only one or two people could get over at a time, so standing there trying to find a good time to go meant inhaling much more smoke that I would have liked.
With the last major obstacle complete, there was just a downhill slope and three burly men with oversized Q-tips standing between me and the finish line. The three burly men are tasked with knocking you down one last time before you reach the finish line. OH NO, BURLY MEN, YOU AREN'T KNOCKING ME OVER. I took a few seconds to check back and see where my teammates were and amp myself up to plow through three men that were triple my size. I ran full speed and got past the first two guys. I saw the third coming at me with his giant Q-tip, dropped my shoulder, and put my full weight against him. I ended up hitting him much more than the Q-tip thing (though Chris Douglass told me my weight probably didn't move him much... whatever), and I sprinted happily across the finish line.
HORRAH!
My cousin Chris (there are a lot of Chris's in this post) crossed the finish line not far behind me, so I was able to reunite with him and my whole team there. We walked over to the showering station caked in mud from head to toe donning our finisher medals. I hosed myself off for probably ten minutes straight and got nowhere near clean.
Badass runs in the family
Finished!
I hadn't experienced a true runner's high since competing in track many years ago, and I definitely had a huge runners high after this race. I felt great. I was all smiles and had tons of energy. One free beer and free t-shirt later, we hopped on a bus and reminisced about the tough course the whole way back to the car. I was driving back home with my cousin for a night in NH, and about halfway through the ride the adrenaline started wearing off and I noticed some of the big scrapes I had. My parents met me with a Sam Adams Octoberfest (too soon, in my opinion) in hand. We went out to the beloved King Kone. I didn't realize how hungry I was until I was hunched over devouring a taco, corn dog, and ice cream like a barbarian.
Thanks, rocks!
My muscles started to ache by the time we got home, and I immediately jumped into the shower. I still had what seemed like endless amounts of mud, rocks, and grass stuck in very random places on my body - in my ears, running down my legs, in my shoes, in my bra, etc. It wasn't until I got out of the shower that I realized how badly my body was beat up. My arms were covered in tiny scrapes from crawling through the rocks, and my legs and stomach suffered the same fate. I looked like I got into a fight with a rabid cat. I sat on the couch around 9:15 and was asleep within 15 minutes. An eleven hour slumber wasn't enough to totally re-energize me, but I was used to the feeling. I equated it with how I felt after a day of hiking, but with considerably more wounds to attend to. The hardest part has been the soreness in my arms and shoulders, which are definitely the weakest part of my body. They feel like bricks. I hobbled outside after breakfast and several cups of coffee in an attempt to clean my clothes, which I had just left rotting in a bag. It took me four rounds of hosing to get the water coming off the clothes to be somewhat clear. Who knew that much mud could fit into spandex shorts?
Overall, this was such a great experience. I owe a lot of my success to my teammates, Dennis carried extra weight in a CamelPak so we could stay hydrated on the course, and both were vital components of getting me through certain obstacles. I literally could not have done several obstacles without them there. I know I could have made my time faster by using my adrenaline fueled energy and running the entire thing, but I'm glad I didn't. It was as much about team spirit as it was about finishing.
I can shamelessly say I am really proud of myself. I went into it thinking there was no way I could keep up with my male teammates, that I was grossly unqualified to do something like this. But I came out of it feeling pretty tough, and feeling really proud that I completed it with a smile on my face. As I sit here aching, trying not to scratch my itchy, healing wounds, still beat, I can't help but get excited to do it again. My teammates have the same mindset - we're already planning our team for the November Spartan Sprint at Fenway Park. My cousin Chris and I are planning on tackling a Tough Mudder next year together, too. I'll do a fist pump about that later... because right now it hurts too much to move my arm like that.
I DID IT!! * The photos used are not my own, and are not from my race.
I got a bike -insert cheering here-! I have been wanting a bike for several years, and the year my parents were going to finally get me one for my birthday I busted my knee. They thought it would be a cruel joke to get me a bike I couldn't use, but in reality biking was a big part of my recovery. Their logic didn't hold up a year later when my sister totaled her car right before Christmas, and then a few days later received a car GPS as a gift. Luckily she had a good sense of humor about it.
I love naming things, which I believe stems from my moms habit of giving everyone and everything a nickname. Here is a brief list:
Remote control - remotus apperandi (who the hell even knows)
Emma, my niece - Emma-Loo, Lu-Lu, Lu-Lu-Faces, Loo (may give her gender confusion)
Adding "Louise" to the end of people's names for no reason, like to my friend Christina's name making her Christina-Louise
Our cat Shuffles (RIP) - Shuffie, Shuffle-Puff, Shuffles-Louise, Shuffle-Off-To-Buffalo, etc.
Our car, a Ford Explorer Eddie Bauer edition - The Ford Exploder, Eddie Bowel Edition
The list goes on and on. Basically, if she gives you a nickname it means that she likes you. I want to name my bike, I am my mother's daughter, after all, but I've been struggling to come up with a name. The best I have come up with so far is "Dirty", so I can say I'm "riding Dirty".
Boston is nicknamed "The Walking City", not because it is so safe to be a pedestrian here but because you can walk almost anywhere within an hour. The same goes for cycling; you can get across the city pretty quickly, and sometimes, as I found out yesterday, much faster than the Green Line. But first you must know how to navigate an infrastructure system designed for horse and buggy, not logical travel (I know I haven't lived in a city with a grid system, but I'm so used to Boston's jumbled mess of road systems that the grid systems I have encountered actually confuse me more). Next, you must be prepared to share the road with Massholes, city buses, cab drivers that apparently enjoy risking life and limb while driving, other bikers, confused tourists about to be struck by cars, and an abundance of construction vehicles. Boston was rated one of the worst cities for cycling for many years, but has made it to #26 on Bicycling Magazine's list of the top 50 Bike-Friendly Cities. A former Olympic cyclist now serves as the bike coordinator in Boston, and in the past few years many bike lanes, bike racks, educational programs, and a bike sharing program called Hubway have been added.
I took No-Name out on our maiden voyage in the middle of rush hour traffic on Monday afternoon. I think my 5 years of experience of being a pedestrian/public transit user, but also an occasional driver, in Boston helped me not die. Sadly, the phrase "not die" is actually relevant, as several people have been hit and killed on their bikes by MBTA buses and other vehicles in the past few years. I swerved through hoards of traffic and tourists like a pro, but I was glad to get off the road and ride along the Esplanade for a few miles. The 5.26 mile ride took only 35 minutes, which is equivalent (if not faster) than the T at that hour. Not only that, but being on a bike was much better than being packed into the Green Line like a sweaty sardine.
Boylston Street
I biked to work that morning, and again it was faster than taking the train. Being caught in the afternoon traffic on a road without a bike lane was a little scary, but it's been a fun experience to see my city in a different way. It was about 95 degrees and disgustingly humid, and I had almost been hit by a cab, but getting stopped at a light and seeing this view was pretty cool. I tend to get tunnel vision when I'm going to/from work, or using public transit at all, so it was a refreshing change.
Thankfully there are some bike-friendly areas, and there is a nice path at Belle Isle Marsh near my house. I wish I could replace my T rides with bike rides for the summer, but unfortunately I cannot get through the tunnel on a bike. By the way, the Callahan Tunnel is closing for three months so I'm really thrilled to see what the traffic will be like in the 8th circle of hell. I suppose I prefer that over my worst fear becoming a reality - the walls failing and water from the harbor filling the tunnel as I slowly drown to death. That fear was intensified when a panel broke off the wall during rush hour. It was removed along with a few more faulty panels. A full inspection resulted in ALL of the panels being removed. How encouraging!
In other news, I convinced my roommate Jaime to do her first obstacle race with me in September. I found this deal on Living Social, which is probably the main reason we were okay with signing up. It will be my second obstacle race, my first is going to the Spartan Sprint at the end of August. Rugged Maniac, the race in Sept., is just one of many options of the obstacle race fad. I'm hoping to be well prepared for this race, as I believe the Spartan Sprint will be more challenging than the Rugged Maniac. I don't doubt the Rugged Maniac will be tough, with obstacles like Suicide Slide and Rugged Rope Ascent, but the Spartan Sprint will be my first time doing something like that. It may even be my first actual race if I don't get my ass in gear and sign up for a 5k before then. Spartan Sprint requires you to do 30 burpees (HELL) if you can't do an obstacle, whereas all other obstacle races I've seen allow you to go around any obstacle you can't/don't want to do. Thankfully I am tackling that course with several male friends who are buff and were in the military, so if I can't get over a wall they will throw me over it. The Rugged Maniac may be a different story... I'm already getting visions of Jaime and I, face down, dead in the mud. Our team name is Biggest Losers, that way if things go well we will look like successful Biggest Loser contestants, and if things go poorly we will just be big losers. Win-win.
My strict(er) training and eating habits start July 1st. I've been slacking off, especially since this past weekend was my 23rd birthday and I sat on the beach drinking and eating for four days. My running pace is getting better, and on my last run I averaged 9:48 min/mile on a hilly course. Not that fast, but really great for me! I plan on getting my pace faster, doing longer distance runs, and building my upper body strength. Summer is here, but it's going fast!
