Nashville’s Country Music Marathon

On a spring weekend in 2014, a few months after the birth of my second child, a few months after my sister Kristen settled on a gap year and a few months after my sister Laura decided to work in Goose Bay for a year, we dreamed up a sister marathon trip. It would be Laura and Kristen’s first marathon. It would be my comeback marathon. Laura and Kristen had taken 2 sister trips together while I was off in motherhood land and couldn’t join them. We scoured race websites and chose the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, Tennessee on April 25: good timing for all of us and a race that sounds totally rockin’ cool.

We arrived in Nashville on Thursday morning ahead of the Saturday race. Two vacation days were filled with laughs. Nervous energy and my two favourite girls to be silly with led to many giggle fests, mostly centered on “The Gulch.” We all knew about funny dude The Oatmeal’s “The Blerch.” The Nashville course description told us that the course took a right at mile 2 through “the ultrahip Gulch.” We saw the signs pointing to “The Gulch.” And so our own sister version of the Blerch was born. Introducing “The Gulch.”

Starting Line 2015

Race day came. I was placed in corral 1 with the first 1000 of 30,000 runners. At first for me.

I was really sad for Cliff at the start line and when the air horn sounded I started running through tears. Country Music Marathon had a big celebration for runners the night of the race featuring Martina McBride and we had been listening to her music in the hotel for 2 days. “Love’s the only house big enough for all the pain in the world” began to play in my head. I settled in for the long job ahead and maybe that release was cathartic.

The 3 of us wore “Cliff’s Antique’s” singlets and my favourite parts of the race were spectators yelling “Go Cliff’s” at me. They kept me close to him. I saw Cliff everywhere. Most notably when I didn’t know where I was in the field, an old man around 25km told me that I was 4^th female and he was my Cliff.  Maybe that’s what helped me hold onto this place.

Country Music Marathon promised a concert every mile and they lived up to this promise. The concerts, stages and all, were incredible. Lots of honkey tonk. A gospel choir that gave me chills; a washtub and plastic jug band; a super rocker chic belting out “Helter Skelter” at mile 20. Bikers at the half belting out Bon Jovi, “OOOOH, you’re halfway there, ohhhh ohhh, living on a prayer.” DJs were blasting some sweet tunes on some serious speakers. I loved the southern drawl, “go lady runna,” spoken very slowly.

This was the best mental marathon I’ve ever run. I didn’t think about much except “Act like a horse, be dumb, just run” (thanks Sarah), then “hang on” and then Cliff’s famous “the fastest way to the finish is to run to it” the last 10km when I was quite tight and the hot air was thick with floral fragrance and it was 23 degrees with the sun busting out in Shelby Park.

I said hello to my 3 best girls Sarah, Shauna and Tonya at the timing mats. I was so glad knowing they were behind me in Nova Scotia and believing so fiercely in me.

The community of Nashville is totally into their marathoners. Many kind and creative citizens set up their own aid stations: oranges, candy, beer at two stops (how did I miss both!), water, ice water, bags of ice, pretzels, soaking wet ice cold towels at mile 25.5 (bliss), MANY with Krispy Kreme doughnuts (!!). Laura ran through 2 hoses. Cheers and love.

Early in the race, we ran up and down hills through the Gulch, which was pretty unmemorable, and then through a residential area with long lawns and huge southern antebellum mansions that look just like I thought they would. We entered Belmont University then Vanderbilt University next- stunning old South campuses. House of Card’s Frank Underwood might have studied there. Sororities and fraternities were out in full force.

Mile 12 took us through a strip mall paved paradise and onto highway. Here, a root beer flavoured GU had it out for me. I opened it and accidently squeezed half of its sticky contents all over my left hand. A hot sticky mess. Then while trying to eat it pre-water-stop, I put the whole packet in my mouth and pulled it back out between my teeth, I ate the price tag I’d left on it. I thought about how my sisters would find this so funny. Then I took the packet outta my mouth with my right hand and now it was sticky too. I tried to wipe my sticky hands on my shorts but it was so warm that my shorts were dry. So I wiped my hands clean in my sweaty ponytail. Root beer Gu is off the list.

This course has two long out and backs at mile 15 and then mile 23.5 all the way to the finish. This was excellent for me. I love out and backs and on this special day, I had two sisters to look for. I spent the first running easily and looking for my girls. I saw Kristen just as I joined the out and back from a loop and we happily yelled at each other. She looked so strong and easy, gliding along with a huge grin on her face and I knew it was her day to shine.

Up and down hills, I floated easily until 25km. I ran with two lovely men for much of the first half. I could hear Cliff a lot: “You’re so lucky.” I was looking forward to picking it up either at km 25 or at 32km. But the continuous hills were eating me up a little. I hit a few spots where the pain was standing there on the course waiting for me. I accepted it and managed it and dealt with. The second time I met the pain, the 28km band was playing “Counting Stars,” one of my 3 year old’s favourite songs from watching Public School 22 on youtube and I figured this was for me and my next split was back to 4:30. But my last 4:30 split was at 32km. The 4th time the pain, the Gulch, got me was km 33 and I couldn’t quite recover.

After being on pace for a 3:10 marathon at 10 miles and at half with a split of 1:35:xx, I was 2:50 off 3:10 pace at mile 20. I started telling myself how much distance was left. 10km is an easy run to Point Pleasant Park. 8km is a workout with 2 intervals.

We turned into Shelby Park at mile 21.5 for a 2-mile loop. The crusher dust park path circled a thick, green, swampy pond. The trees were low hanging and lush. The still air was humid and dense with magnolia and lilac. It was both gorgeous and deadly. The Gulch was stronger than many a runner in this fragrant circle of suck. I passed 4 men walking. These were 3-hour marathon men. Kristen says there were geese in the water. I didn’t know that there was anything alive in there.

I saw Kristen when I exited the park and yelled at her to beat the Gulch. She looked like a lean, mean running machine. I was trying hard to hold on/hold off the death march. I was fighting physiology hard. I would gather my shit and hold down the Gulch and start running what felt like a smooth stride but my brain was doing it’s best to shut me down and scare me into sliding towards the march which was a safer way to get our body to the finish. This was my first marathon in four years following the birth and babyhood of two children. Physiology was strong today.

I was looking hard for my Laura now on this long out and back that would carry me to the finish. I wanted so badly to finish. I saw the mile 25 flag ushering me to the longest mile of my life. We were finishing at the Tennessee Titan’s NFL Stadium, which was nowhere to be seen. I finally allowed myself to think about my two children during this mile- I was saving them for when I really needed them. I passed one km to go and felt the crushing absence of Cliff. Then I was rewarded with the sweet, sweet sight of my sister Laura right before turning left onto the stretch bringing me to the finally visible stadium. She looked positively giddy and I also told her to outrun the Gulch. Laura told me later that she had been laughing for 13 miles because her “thighs had eaten her shorts.”

At mile 20, I thought that I could just hold onto sub 5:00/km and still take home a 3:12 but alas, my Garmin read 42.7km at the finish and that extra 0.5km run put me in at 3:15:20. I was equally ecstatic with this time; 3:12 never really belonged to me. I knew I was running a PB and that I had given it my best shot. I left it all out there and that was my goal.

I was emotional at finish for Cliff, for my son and daughter and for myself. A race photographer asked to take my photo and then was quite concerned: “are you ok?” Yes. I’d just been through a lot in my runner’s life over the last 6 months. I walked to baggage area with the very lovely 3rd place runner who I finally caught sight of once in Shelby Park at 34km but she was ahead and I was where I was. Though 2 of the women ahead of me finished in 3:12 and 3:13, despite this one glimpse, I didn’t see them at all and they must have faded too.

Kristen and I reunited, BQ x 2!

The sister reunion was magical.

Kristen ran a Boston qualifying 3:31 in her marathon debut. Who does that?! An athlete trained by Cliff, that’s who. Laura ran a 4:15 in her first marathon despite training practically in the North Pole of Goose Bay.

In our sock feet, we enjoyed a very celebratory beer under a hot sun in Victory Circle at LP Stadium, country band jamming next to us.

Today, the three of us beat the Gulch together.

 Post Script:

A marathon is a solo race but doesn’t happen alone so I need this chance to thank those who helped me toe the line. Thanks to my husband, my person, for getting me onto the road with happily cared for kids at every Tuesday for track practice and Sunday am for long run once for 6 months. He doesn’t run but he’s the most important person on my running team. Thanks to Kristen for many weekday afternoons of free babysitting for a medium long run or second track workout. Thanks to my girls and training partners Shauna, Sarah, Tonya and Kari Ellen for sharing the journey. Thanks to BOB for the amazing duallie run stroller that logged many miles with my favourite tiny but also heavy running partners, my son and daughter, on board.

Finally, to Cliff, this one was for you.

3 sisters, 3 marathons, 3PBs

The Original Endurance Event: Labour & Delivery

Runner’s World “Running and Pregnancy” served me well as my trusty guide to running through pregnancy. It was a great resource save for one section which I completely disagree with. In the chapter about the ninth month of pregnancy, on page 187, you’ll read a box with the headline:

“Why Your Marathon Doesn’t Matter”

Then you’ll read the author’s opinion as follows:

“When I ran my first marathon 2 1/2 years before delivering my first child, I though, ‘All this pain is good preparation for childbirth.’ I was sadly mistaken. Endurance is the only thing these events have in common. Very little else is even similar. “

I disagree. Labour is much, much (MUCH) harder than racing a fast marathon. Yet I still disagree. There are similarities between racing and labour & delivery. In my husband and I’s discussion with our obstetrician (also a runner), she disagreed with the statement in this book and camped on my side. I told her that we wanted a natural labour and that I felt like I was going to be good at labour due to my background in distance racing. She agreed with me.

Let me explain why I disagree. Disclaimer here- you are not going to find any graphic labour details. My labour & delivery lasted less than 6 hours start to finish. I wanted a natural labour but would never suggest that a natural labour is the best it most desirable option for anyone but me. This is just my own experience. If you are not a runner, I’m sure you will do just as well with labour.

Belief in Your Ability to Perform

In my husband and I’s discussion with our obstetrician, we find the first similarity between marathon racing and labour: you have to believe that it will go well in order for it to go well. My obstetrician’s belief that I would do well was just like my coach’s belief that I could hit a certain time in my race and added to my “pre-event” confidence.

Understanding Pain

The most helpful advice my doctor gave us was to remember that the contractions, while painful, are on my side. Contractions and I are on the same team, working towards the same goal- to deliver a beautiful baby. I liked
this and could relate to it. As a runner, it made sense to me. The lung-busting, leg burning pain of 20 x 400m repeats is also on your side. You both have the same goal: to run faster.

My doc also pointed out that running has taught me about normal cellular pain as well as the skill to embrace this pain as a means to my goal. She continued explaining that this understanding differs from many women’s reaction to the pain- which is often dread and fear.

Mental Focus & Strength

The second similarity between marathon racing and labour & delivery that was clear to me was in regards mental focus and ability to deal with a very hard task at hand. During racing, you need to keep your body calm and stay in control of it if it’s going to clock the pace you want it to for 42.2km. For me, a lot of that calm and control comes from focusing on breathing.

Mental focus is critical in labour and focusing on calm breathing served me incredibly well. I didn’t practice prenatal or Lamaze breathing or whatever, I had lots of breathing experience from running. And this was where my husband and labour coach extraordinaire excelled- making sure I breathed calmly, coaching me to breathe all the way in and all the way out. Focus on breath filled my conscious thought,
leaving little room for dwelling on the intense pain. Although dealing with pain of a much lesser intensity, this emptying of the mind to focus on breath is also useful in racing. In m y less than 6 hours of labour, I can count on one hand the number if contractions that “got away from me” or that I wasn’t in control of.

I’ve written a lot about my use of mantras , a word or short phrase repeated over and over, during running and racing, as another a method to focus and crowd other unwanted sensory data (i.e. our quads are killing us, let’s stop this running madness) of conscious thought.

This worked during labour for me. My husband and I had chosen a gender-neutral name for our baby (gender unknown) and this proved to be the best mantra of all time. I repeated it at the end of each contraction during the intense transition part of labour.

Focus on something ahead works during racing, be it a fit and faster runner, a km marker sign, a telephone pole. This focus can help with continuing forward motion. During labour, it helped crowd out mental focus on the crazy pain. We had an excellent labour & delivery nurse who ordered that I focus on something ahead. I began to stare at a red blob on a poster ahead of me- I have no idea what the poster was for, but it worked.

Support Team

Anyone who has run a marathon knows what an incredible lift you get from seeing your loved ones on the sidelines. During my 3 Boston Marathons, I stationed my loved ones at points where I know that I would need them most. As I ran past them, my feet would feel lighter.

My support team, my husband, was more important during labour than any of the items listed previously. We packed my labour bag full of items that we thought we would need to use to get me through: music, reading, a new tv series on the iPad, a tennis ball to relieve pressure in case of back labour, candy, gum, etc, etc. We requested a rocking chair in our labour room. We didn’t even open the labour bag, I never sat in the rocking chair. All I needed was my husband.

One KM/Contraction at a Time

During a 42.2km race, the runner is wise to take it one kilometer. The mom-to-be is wise to take it one contraction at a time during labour. If you set out to run a 3:10 marathon, you can’t be thinking at km 2, “well shoot, how I going to run 4:30/km for another 40 km. 40 kms are a lot of f-ing
kms.” This is dangerous thinking. It will hijack fit legs & engine. I know this all too well- this thinking ruined my Boston 2011 go at 3:10- a race my coach was confident I could reach out and grab.

Thus thinking is also dangerous in labour. “Only 3 cm dilated, 10cm is a lot of f-ing cm.” That helps no one. And at keast a marathon has a finish line. You know the hard effort ends at exactly 42.2km. No such fixed finish line in labour. I was careful not to get into thinking like this. And my husband was prepared not to let me.

Our situation was lucky though- I could hear the nurses saying, “this one is going to be fast.” When my nurse called our obstetrician, she said, “you want to see this baby born, you better come now,” and then
told my husband and I, “don’t worry, I can deliver this baby if she doesn’t make it.”

Our obstetrician did make it and I so clearly remember her saying, “this baby will be here in 10 minutes.”

Those words were infinitely better than any 1km to go sign I’ve ever seen.

The Finish Line

I’ve experienced lots of emotions at finish lines. Elation, happiness, disbelief, relief, “thank God I survived, I’m never running again.”

I’ve had some memorable finish lines in my life: my first half and full marathons, my first Boston Qualification, my first Boston, my Boston PB, the Atlantic Ocean in West Africa after running 424km across an entire country to reach it:

My first full marathon, 2006

My first BQ, 2008

My 1st Boston Marathon, 2009

My Boston PB, 2011

Reaching the Atlantic Ocean after running 424km across a country

Nothing compared to the emotion I felt at this finish line.

The Best Finish Line on Earth: April 19, 2012

Will Running Help Parenting?

Like me, I’m sure that most first-time expectant parents think about what it will be like to be a parent.  Will you be a good parent?  How hard is it going to be?  By what margin will the joy outweigh the hard days?

I’ve worked with youth for my entire almost 10 year nursing career; the last 4 years in more of a counseling role with teenagers.  I’ve learned a lot about what makes a good parent.  Actually, that’s not true.  I’ve learned the most about what makes a poor parent.  Some key parenting things, or rather the absence of some key parenting things seems to make a difference.  In my observation, in no particular order these “things” are:

• Meals together
• Food in the house for school lunches
• Transportation to sports and extracurricular events
• Attendance and support at sports and extracurricular events
• Fair rules that are enforced, including a curfew and prohibition of romantic partner sleepovers
• Active interest in the youth’s peer group
• Active interest in homework and study completion
• Avoidance of full blown parental conflict in front of kids
• Consistent demonstration the kid is more important than the internet, facebook, tv etc.

I was lucky to have all of these things growing up (thanks Mom and Dad). This is a short and non-comprehensive list.  And it’s for teenagers. My child won’t be a teenager for more than a decade.

with 6 year old Lamin "More Fire" Suso

Can Running Help?

I’ve been thinking about this question, will I be a good parent, in context of being a runner.  I think that there may be some parallels between being a good runner and being a good parent. Perhaps some aspects of being a good runner will help me become a good parent. Some of the lessons I’ve learned from running may help me in this next chapter of my life. Maybe I’m onto something. Or maybe not.  But here goes.

Related Concept #1: Runners Run. Parents Parent.

The end.

Just joking.

Here is what I think related to this. I’ve begun many training cycles with competitive goals: 3 consecutive Boston Marathons, shorter fall races, the distance of a hot African country.  In the midst of a training cycle, with a competitive goal loaming, you run; you train; you perform track workouts that you do not enjoy because your coach says to; you do your strength exercises even though you hate them; you work your butt off literally and figuratively and eat a foolish number of calories to maintain a competitive butt weight.

The Ice Bath: no one really wants to do this

You sacrifice things in the midst of a hard training cycle. You pass on that second glass of wine. You choose bed instead of a late movie with your friends. You give up a relaxing weekend morning to run 2-2.5 hours every weekend for 16-18 weeks.  You don’t eat bacon and eggs for breakfast. You are late for supper with your partner because you at the track busting out 10 x 1km with your training partners because you can’t do that workout alone.

You run in a different way than you do when you are running for yourself, for fun, without a competitive goal.  With a competitive goal, you’ll wake up on a Wednesday at 6am. You have a 10km recovery run to do before work just like every other Wednesday.  It’s raining.  Or snowing. You do not want to run. You want to roll over in your warm bed and sleep until 7am. But you get yourself out of bed and you run anyway.  Your weekly mileage total depends on this easy run.  Your performance at the track the next day depends on this easy run, on its recovering nature.

A runner runs, even when she doesn’t want to.

You do all of this because that’s what it takes to achieve success.

And because a runner runs even when she doesn’t want to.

This is the trait that might help me parent my child.  I have a long history of doing things, hard things, hard runs, that I don’t always want to do.  But I do them anyway, with minimal complaint, in the greater pursuit of success.  I’m sure that there will be moments when I don’t really want to do child-rearing activity ‘x.’ But I know that I’ll be able to do it, with minimal complaint.

A parent parents, even when she doesn’t want to.

Related Concept #2: No hard work, no pay off.

Awesome kids don’t grow themselves.  Awesome personal bests don’t set themselves. Both require a lot of hard work.

I didn’t make it 424km across a hot African country by sitting on the couch.  I made it by training and running 6 days a week for 7months.  Hard work was how I made my dream of running clear across The Gambia possible. Hard work is how I set my racing personal bests.

I’ve been both a 4:05 marathoner and a 3:18 marathoner. I’ve been both a 2:06 half marathoner and a 1:33 half marathoner. The biggest difference between these two versions of myself?  Hard work. Dedication to my training. Running when I don’t feel like running because that’s what runners do.

Maybe putting in the hard work for the future pay off applies to raising a child. You can’t just sit on the couch hoping or waiting for a child to become a good, successful and well-adjusted child.  You invest in your child, you put in the hard work of parenting and you give them the best chance possible to be successful.

Related Concept #3: Limits of the human body

Winter 2011

The human body was born to run. It was born to run in the heat. It was born to run in the snow. It was born to run long distances.

I know these facts to be true as I’ve lived their truth pounding the pavement for many years.

The human body was also born to deliver babies and to care for babies.  I’ve brushed against the limits of the human body many times with sneakers on my feet and stretches of road ahead of me.  I’ve developed a lot of mental and physical strength over my many years of running. I feel like this is the evidence that I need to know and believe that my body can deliver this baby.  My body can handle the sleep deprivation of caring for an infant.

Many people have asked me how I feel about giving birth.  People began asking me, as early as the day that I announced my pregnancy, if I had a birth plan?  Some want to know if I’ll opt to use drugs or if I’ll go for a natural birth.  Most of these people are “ladies” (read more here).

I always give them a vague answer, indicating that I haven’t thought it through, haven’t made a “birth plan” (whatever that is) but that I feel like I’ll be quite ok in labour. Many of these people look at me skeptically.  I try to explain that I’ve been a distance runner for many years, I feel like it’s been good preparation for childbirth.  The skeptical look remains.  Sometimes they are outright dismissive of my assertion that I think that I can deal with labour because I’ve dealt with the pain of late miles in a marathon; with the evil voice that tries to make you stop running; that I am so familiar with pain that I can differentiate fatigue based pain from hardwork and pain from cellular damage

Only one beautiful soul spared me from skepticism. My friend and colleague Melanie Breen, a mother of two, wanted to talk a little bit about childbirth.  “You are going to be really good at this,” Melanie told me.  “All of your running, your yoga, your mental strength and experience is going to serve you so well.”

I said nothing for a few long seconds and then responded, “You are the first person who had said that to me.  I keep trying to tell other people that.”  Then she hugged me.  And I felt good.

Related Concept #4: Hope and belief in something that’s really flimsy

Success in running and racing is flimsy. That’s the word I like for this: flimsy.

A runner can have the best possible training cycle under the best coach with very few missed days for injury and lots of confidence and belief in themself.  And then they can still flop on race day. I know, this happened to me this year at Boston Marathon.

Near perfect training. Healthy body. Healthy mind. Super husband, on the course to cheer for me. Super coach, on the course to cheer for my team and I.  My coach was fully confident that I was ready to run 3:10. I was fully confident. The weather was perfect. The wind was at my back. It should have been my day. Then the race began and I mentally blew up and blew my goal.  You can read more in the race recap I wrote the following day here.

Even with near-perfect conditions in both training and on race day, the race itself has no guarantees.  More things can go wrong than can go right. There is no guarantee that if you do “all of these things” then you will run 3:10.  Or whatever your race goal is. It’s flimsy.

But you do it anyway, knowing the risk of failure is present. You choose to believe in yourself, over and over, and you tie up your shoes and toe the line again because you believe that one of those times, it is going to be your day.  And you’ll miss it if you don’t accept the risk of failure and get out there and try.

This requires a strong foundation of belief in yourself. I made it across a country in running shoes with this belief.  Before I set off from that farm field in Senegal, I knew that some people thought that I would never make it.  Some of these people told me before my run began; some admitted it to me after.  But the thing was, it didn’t matter what they thought or what they believed. I made it to the Atlantic Ocean 424km later only because I believed that I could do it.  My belief was the only one that mattered.

My friend Kecouta Sonko's baby girl Awa in Senegal

Maybe this acceptance of risk and failure and belief in yourself helps with parenting. Maybe you do the best you can, believe in yourself as much as you can and give it your best shot while understanding that there are tons of other variables at work making your end goal- a race PB, a happy, healthy, well-adjusted child- flimsy. As a parent-to-be, if you don’t take a risk and chose to do it, you probably miss out on something really great; something way better than a race PB.

At the end of the day

That’s all I have. Four loosely related traits that I’ve grown throughout my running career that may serve me as I make the plunge into parenthood. We’ll be first time parents.  We will learn. My husband and I are a strong team. This baby was planned and we love this kid a lot already.  These must count for something.

I’m terribly sensitive to unsolicited advice, but feel free to let me know what you think.

I married a marathoner

Editor’s Note: Let me introduce this post.  It’s written by my husband.  If you’ve ever listened to me thank the people that help my running, you know that although he doesn’t call himself a runner, he’s always the first person that I thank.  I spend a lot of time out of our home, running.  He supports me.

Here is his experience supporting me.

So….my wife is a marathoner. Not just that, she is an obsessive marathoner. She has a coach, she has a physiotherapist, she has a dietician, hell she even has sponsors (and not the kind of sponsor you call when you realize that your running addiction is out of hand).

Here’s an outline on what living with a marathoner (a hardcore one, even for that sport) is like. If you know me, you know I am blunt, but you also know that I love Erin (and would suspect correctly that she already reviewed this post and ok’d it before you read it). Hopefully you’ll get the humour (and truth) in this post. If not, I probably don’t much care for you anyways.

Time to yourself

Couple time is great, but it’s also important to have separate interests. I love reno’ing, I’m a music and movie buff and a computer geek. Erin and I have lots of interests in common, but none of the ones I just listed are anything she cares about. Her running means lots of time for me to blare music, watch insanely loud action flicks and gut the house. Our home is small, so those aren’t things that I can necessarily do while she is around. The downside is that time together is on a crazy schedule. Weekends mean cramming your own “to do’s” into time while they are out training and scheduling everything together around races, training at the track and running events.

Health

One of us is going to live a long healthy life (hint – it isn’t me). I’m banking on Erin (a nurse) to take care of me. Folks, it is always important to have a plan.

Looks

I’m a proud Canadian, but we live in the second fattest country in the world (kudos U.S., kudos). My wife runs 6 days a week. This isn’t my 20 minute runs on the treadmill either. This is dozens of kilometres; she tells me she has run 1200 km this year. In addition, to help stay loose and recuperate, she does yoga. I am winning in all sorts of ways here. While most Canadians are struggling to fit into their already too-large pants and loathing how they look in a mirror, my wife has abs, a slender frame and perfect legs. Any spouse who says they don’t care about this is an idiot and a liar.

Hangriness

We may share cooking responsibilities in our house, but it would be fair to say that I am the “goto” chef (Erin hates cooking and I love it). Feeding a marathoner is like feeding a giant teenage boy. Not only do marathoners eat an insane amount of food, it needs to be good food and it needs to be served up frequently. Moreover, your eating schedule (assuming you want to eat together) is completely controlled by when their practices and runs are scheduled. Supper happens after work/practice/cool downs. Breakfast has to be before training, but lunch has to be immediately after. Perhaps even worse is that portion control goes out the window and low-fat foods are frowned upon (I now make 0% frozen yoghurt for me and full fat frozen yoghurt for Erin). The next point (Self Image) outlines why the extra fat is a problem.

Then there is the hangriness. Marathoners get moody, angry, frustrated and (I’ll say it, I don’t care) bitchy if they aren’t fed properly. They burn so many calories that they are in constant danger of running low and when that happens they get hangry (I doubt most recognize this – but I bet their spouses do). I could count on one hand the number of times Erin and I have ever fought, but I bet she was hangry almost every single one of those times.

Self Image

I’m not a chubby guy. In fact for most of my life I wished I weighed more (sadly, after blowing by age 30, my body and love of food have turned on me a bit). I work in an office. I sit in a chair all day. Then I come home and sit on a couch (and I love that couch). My body is nothing like my wife’s and it never will be. I’m self-confident about how I look and I’ve got a pretty high self-esteem (I think the term arrogant has been thrown around), but there is no feeling 100% good about the shape you are in when you date a marathoner.

Give me your feedback (and your damn money)

Have some notes on living with a marathoner? Post a comment below. Haven’t donated to Erin’s run across the Gambia yet? Well then you’re a bad person and I will drown a kitten if you don’t (so click the Donate Now link below).