One more sleep…


The Boston Marathon is mere hours away. I’m laying here in my snuggly hotel bed with a belly full of pasta getting my head set. I just felt like writing….

I will be at the starting line in Hopkinton tomorrow morning nervous, teary eyed and just so damn excited. I can’t believe it. Me. Running Boston. And yet, here I am… 

When I started running longer and longer distances 9 years ago I never, ever thought I would run Boston. It wasn’t on my radar. Like, at all. Not because I hadn’t dreamed of running it. I had. But to me, it was fantasy, a Legendary Beast, a Unicorn that I never thought I’d catch. I never thought I would be fast enough, good enough or runner enough to qualify. No one told me this. No one told me any of those things. I had told me. In my mind, I had decided it was so. And so it was. I believed it. Until last year…

When I decided I was going to try. Really try. I mean, give it all I had. In my head I thought it was going to be a one shot deal. I’d give it a go and if I failed, at least I’d do so trying. Hold head high, move on along to the next adventure. But then it happened.  Lo and behold I’d qualified. I had the race of a lifetime. And I was elated. Until now…

I have just pinned on my bib, laid out my clothes and crawled into bed with a belly full of pasta and a smile so large it will carry me all the way to Boston. My heart is so full. I have learned so learned so much about myself along this journey. 

I AM fast enough. I AM good enough. I AM runner enough. And no matter how tomorrow goes, that is simply good enough for me. 

Much love,

Colby

The Weekly Running Recap: And now, the end is near, and so I face the final tempo run…

My friend, I’ll say it clear. I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain…

THANK EFFEN GOD THE TRAINING IS OVER. 

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No offense Hansons, but I am STOKED. The work. The stress. The tired legs. The “No thank you. I’ll just have water” is fucking done-zo. I couldn’t be happier if I tried. Week 17 of training with Hanson’s Marathon Method ended not with a bang, but with a gentle, exhausted whimper. And maybe also with a firm fist pump. We have arrived. Welcome to Taper Town. The speed limit is 3mph. Don’t over do it. I’m overwhelmed. I’ll admit it. In fact I’ll save my hysterical thoughts for another post. For now, here’s how the final week of Colby’s Magical Boston Marathon training went! 

Monday: Easy Run. 6 miles. 9:13 pace with my chocolate monster, The Incomparable Drunk Otis Brown. This has become the routine. And he knows it. He grabs his leash and puts his face in my lap, both drooling and completely prohibiting me from lacing up my kicks. He’s a mess. But I love him. 

Tuesday: Strength Intervals. 6 x 1mile, 400m recovery. 11 miles total. 8:10 pace. AND THAT’S A WRAP!!!! Best I’ve felt this whole Strength Interval section. For reals. Brought a tear to my eye and everything. Ahhhh. Done. 

Wednesday: RESTFUCKINGDAY. Zero miles. Pace 0mph. Absolute. Zero. 

Thursday: Tempo Run. 10 miles at marathon pace, 8:35. 12 miles total. There is NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING like running your final tempo run. My legs were TIRED. My glute was not happy. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But I finished that shit like I broke the tape on Bolyston. WINNNNNNER! It was ugly. But it was done. And now I must rest. 

Friday: Easy 7 miles. Ummmm. No. Instead, 60 minutes on the elliptical followed by a deep tissue massage. My legs were not happy. They were miserable. So instead of slugging through 7 painful miles, I cross trained and went to my gifted massage therapist. When I got there she said:  Looks like I’ve gotta clean this shit up. And then I burst into a sweat. 

Saturday: Easy Run. 8 miles. 9:01 pace. New. Legs. I’m not kidding. So much better. Find a good massage therapist. Someone who gets it. They will change your life. And keep you moving. 

The Thrill of the Done

Sunday: Easy Run. 8 miles. 8:58 pace. New Legs Act II: Shut up and Taper. 

  • Total Number of Miles Run: 45
  • Number of Hours Spent On The Elliptical Because I Felt Broken: 1 hour
  • Number of Times I Had To Pinch Myself Because I Still Can’t Believe I’m Running Boston: 6  

When is the last time you’ve been genuinely, legitimately excited about something? How do you celebrate a monumental occasion? When is the last time you cried from pure joy?