Obladi, Oblada....

I know, I know... two posts in one week? Will wonders never cease?!

Must be a new year or something.

I know my last few posts were a little... introspective. People who know me in real life might not realize that blogging does not come easily to me; I'm one of those people who talks incessantly yet never really has anything to say. I'm sure that this usually comes across as narcissistic, but really it's more of a nervous habit than anything else. I overshare some aspects of my life simply to avoid talking about others. Privacy is a luxury in my (large, invasive) family, and one on which I place a premium.

But I digress.

Over the past several months, a lot has gone on in my life. I do hope to go into some of these in greater detail in future posts but, since I am entirely unpredictable with my blogging and who knows when that mood will strike my fancy, here's a list of short bullets to get you up to speed:

- I turned 29 back in October. We celebrated by going to Wine Riot at the Park Plaza Hotel, then catching the last few innings of the Sox during the World Series. Several people gave me the whole, "whoaaaa last one before the big three-oh!" schtick but, really, being 29 is a lot like being 28, only with slightly less wine and slightly more eye cream.

The vendors were sampling more than the patrons, trust me -- thus the blurriness!

- As you probably saw, I ran the Manchester City Marathon on November 3rd. It is one of (if not the singular) biggest accomplishments of my life thus far. I trained for four months and three days to get to that finish line, and while it wasn't always (or ever) pretty, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't remember some aspect of the whole debacle and smile.

SO GOOD TO SEE YOU DO YOU HAVE MORE FOOD FOR ME?

- One fact that I conveniently left out, but which you might have caught here, is that Andrew also ran the marathon. He kicked my ass by almost 23 minutes, which I'll pretend not to find annoying, considering he managed to throw his back out THE MORNING OF THE RACE and still finished not only smiling, but with perfect posture. To cap off the whole schmaltzy, "my boyfriend is perfect" theme, his first words once he could breathe were to ask how far behind him I was, and then when they lied and said "right behind you!," he refused to leave the finish line -- foregoing the heat blanket, snacks and massages located in the Finisher's Tent -- until I ambled my way down Elm Street for fear of missing me. You can all go vomit now; I'll wait.

C3P0 and R2D2

- You might remember from this post that I have just recently (within the past four years) gotten over a truly debilitating fear of the dentist. After I had my last crown placed early this summer, the only work that I really had left to be done was to finally bite the bullet and have my wisdom teeth out. In my post-marathon, "screw fear I can do anything I want!" haze, I finally booked a consult for late November and then made an appointment to have the actual procedure done in late December. As I type this, I am almost three weeks post-op, and I have to admit that I am still feeling pretty bad-ass, considering that I managed to commit to and then do something that basically every sixteen year old in Western Civilization has done. Whatever. Don't steal my moment, bro.

Looking like this was worth it to declare victory over the dreaded Chipmunk Cheek

- Prior to said surgery, I was feeling a little uneasy with the direction my health was headed, both mentally and physically. While I hadn't regressed entirely into "Let's eat an entire pizza and finish it off with an ice cream sundae while lying in bed listening to OneRepublic's 'Stop and Stare' on repeat," territory, I was headed to a dark place. Compound that by living exclusively off of mashed carbohydrates for a week, and by January 3rd I was ready to re-commit fully to the healthy habits I had adopted through the first half of 2013. In the past 17 days, I've gotten back to spinning, running, yoga and even FINALLY tried Group Power at the gym; my diet has been cleaned back up; I've finished two books and I've been writing a page in a journal every night. I'm feeling a lot more "centered," tree-hugger as that might sound, and it's a lot nicer than running around every day feeling like Charlie Brown is my soulmate.

The second-best part of running.

- Lastly, and in that same vein, I had been toying with the idea of going dry for an extended period of time for quite awhile -- not because I have any major issues with alcohol or anything, but because I did feel like it was an overarching theme of my social life, and also because I've wanted to try branching out a bit into new activities and experiences, and I know that I tend to use a glass of wine as a crutch in those situations that make me uncomfortable. Also, at the age of 29, my metabolism isn't quite what it used to be, and I wanted my Sunday mornings back. So, when I had to make it through New Year's Eve sans champagne due to the large amount of anti-inflammatories and antibiotics running through my veins, I came across the concept of Drynuary on The Twitters and decided just to go with it. Today marks 20 days off the hooch, and while I haven't noticed any dramatic revelations or anything, I will say that I have rediscovered my love of mocktails. Soda water, a splash of grenadine and a cherry? Almost as good as the real deal!

Yes, preggos, I AM available to bartend your mocktails

So, that's my past four months in a nutshell. Hope you all have a wild and wonderful weekend!

Veni, Vidi, Vici

I'M A MARATHONER!!!

I don't even know where to begin processing my thoughts and emotions on this one -- I think I've spent the majority of the last 72 (ok... 300) hours on the verge of tears, laughter or high-fiving any and everything that moves...occasionally all at the same time.

I started out as the person who said I wouldn't run if you chased me. Throughout my teens and early 20s, I proclaimed that, should the world ever be plunged into a zombie apocalypse, to steer clear because I'd have a craving for brains since I'd be caught about 30 seconds after the rampage started. Then, at 23, I was dealing with the post-college "adjustment period," and after dealing with some particularly ridiculous friend drama, left my apartment in a huff and somehow wheezed my way to the end of the block. That simple act sparked a two-year "self-improvement" project, leading to my first half marathon in 2011. In spring 2012, I injured myself five weeks before my second half, leading me to spend almost an entire summer in a walking boot. Vengeance was mine this past May, when I ran that half and PR'ed by 21 minutes. With that feat under my belt and the liquid courage from a few well-timed mimosas, I found myself training for "a marathon," with no actual race in sight.

As the summer sun turned to the foliage of fall, the Anthem Manchester City Marathon came into sharp focus.

I came, I ran, I conquered.

I want to take the time to really put all of the images, thoughts and sentence fragments in my head into words, so I won't recap the race right now. Suffice to say that while every bit as challenging as advertised, I don't have a single regret about choosing a small, hilly, 500-runner marathon as my first, and I will cherish the memories of my family and friends popping up to cheer me on while I ran all over the city where I grew up for the rest of my life. 

Thanks, guys.

XO,
Caitlin (Your newly-minted marathoner)

An Ode to the Road

Long time, no chat.

For those who don't know (which I suspect is most, considering I've become a bit of a quarterly updater), I'm running a marathon in a little under three weeks. It started out as a half-cocked idea over a mimosa (or two) at brunch with Andrew, when he suggested using a training plan as a way to force ourselves to get back into running but with no real, concrete goal race waiting at the end. At that point I was approximately two weeks removed from the sweatiest 10k in history (B.A.A. with a heat index of 92 and 83% humidity), and six removed from my second half marathon (where I did, in fact, get my revenge on The Run to Remember by PRing my previous half time by 21 minutes. Still slow, but after being sidelined in a boot for what seemed like an eternity and my first race back on the streets, I'm proud of it and nothing can take that away). Initially, I planned to just run whatever mileage Andrew ran and maybe run a half sometime this fall as a "reward."

Somewhere along the endless miles of road, though, that all changed.

Which is how I find myself here, three weeks away from a marathon.

Since July 1st, I have run 382.9 miles, for a duration of 82 hours and 27 minutes. I've burned 52,282 calories, or about 15 pounds (which sounds swell, but since training also makes me eat like a horse, I've actually maintained my weight. I was terrified of falling into the "race weight" trap but have been determined to listen to my body and feed it what it wants, and so far, so good). For a girl whose furthest prior distance was 13.8 miles (thanks to weaving/not hitting the tangents during the R2R), I have now run the half marathon distance six more times, including once on a Friday night after work. I've woken up early to squeeze in 10 miles before heading to work on a Wednesday, and left a bag full of my clothes under my desk overnight to do the same a week later. This past Saturday, I ran 20 miles and climbed almost 1300 feet in less than an hour longer than it took me to run 13 two years ago.

Prior to starting this, I looked at the Hal Higdon Novice 1 Marathon Plan and rolled my eyes. "It isn't even good for my legs to run two days in a row; there is no way in hell I could manage three plus a long run." Yet here I am, having not missed a single run in almost 15 weeks. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday, I am out on the road (or, in a few very limited circumstances, on a treadmill). Rain or shine, blazing heat or unseasonably cool, I'm there. It has been hard and painful and, at times, I really thought I might collapse into bed at the end of the day in a heap of tears and never lace up my sneakers again.

But I do.

I knew that marathon training would be physically exhausting. The part I didn't count on is the mental toll it takes, as well. For the past four months, every. single. thing. I. do. has centered around this one goal, to run 26.2 miles without collapsing in the street. Every choice, from my bedtime to my diet to my freakin' footwear, has been dependent upon the question, "will this hurt me come race day?" I know this is something I signed up for, and I am still amazed at my capacity to pursue a goal and see it through; to say that it hasn't been physically taxing and mentally draining, though, would be lying. The copious amount of time this has afforded me in my own head is both a blessing and a curse, in that I now have thousands of ideas but just as many doubts. It's an interesting balance, and I am excited and terrified to see how it all plays out.

So, that's my update. Maybe once I have a marathon medal around my neck, the thoughts and ideas that come so clearly out on the street will find their way to the page. Until then: ciao, bellas!