I HATE Running! The Makings of an Ultra Marathoner

As I gear up for not one, but two marathons just two weeks apart in two different countries, I think back to how it all began...

I first started running because my best friend Loretta stopped being social, and I missed her terribly. 

"If you want to hangout," she said, "you need to run with me. I'm training for my first marathon."

"I hate running," I said. But I joined her the next Saturday morning at a nearby parking lot to give it a try. To my surprise, a bunch of people in real athletic wear were gathered around stretching and doing high knees and butt kicks. I felt so out of place in my beat up walking shoes and old sweats.

When it was time to run, I told Loretta: "We're taking walk breaks as often as I need them." 

Loretta and I at my first half marathon:
Amica Iron Horse Half Marathon 2016
My first "birthday" race.

"Okay," she said. She may have rolled her eyes.

"And you better not leave me," I said.

"I won't," she said.

"And don't expect me to run more than three miles. Ever. I HATE running," I reiterated.

"Okay," she said, this time with a smirk. And she kept her word...mostly.

When I first started running, I ran about 30 seconds and walked two minutes. Loretta did not complain once, even though I was being a terrible sport. So, I came back each Saturday to spend time with my bestie. I noticed how happy and excited the other runners seemed, and that confused me. We're running...for no reason...what's there to be happy about? But their joy became contagious. I decided to try harder to see what all this "happiness" was about. Over time, I was able to run longer and farther before taking a walk break. People noticed and congratulated my tiniest accomplishments. I'd never belonged to any club before. And I had to admit, it was more fun than I expected. Shoutout to Run Your Health!

But then, Loretta did the most despicable thing. She volunteered me for a relay marathon team at the Cape Cod Marathon. Before I could protest, the relay team captain threw her arms around me and exclaimed her excitement. The team couldn’t race without a fifth person. I knew I couldn’t let these people down. I had no choice but to run.

"You were going to the Cape to watch me run my marathon anyway," Loretta said. "You might as well run, too."

Shooting out the gate with all the other runners
Cape Cod Marathon and Relay 2015

Loretta waving to me as we ran
the beginning our first race together
Cape Cod Marathon 2015

My leg of the race was the first three miles, and I got to shoot out the gate with all the other relay runners and marathoners alike. The vibrating energy of the crowd was exhilarating, and for the first time, I felt like I was a part of something greater than life. Those three miles were excruciating. I had only run three miles without stopping once before, but I was determined to do my best, so I ran for my life. When I saw my teammates at the transition point, I felt like a rockstar. They were jumping up and down—cheering for me. FOR ME! And that was it, I was hooked.

Cheesing it with my first marathon medal
Cape Cod Marathon 2016

I bought a real pair of running shoes from a running store that fitted me for the perfect fit. Then:

Marathon Relay, turned into 

5ks, turned into 

10ks, turned into
Half Marathons, turned into 

Marathons, turned into 

Chowdah Challenge (half marathon on Saturday/Full on Sunday), turned into

Ragnar Reach the Beach (2-day, 200-mile relay race), turned into 

Trail and Mountain races, turned into 

Ultramarathons!

And now I’m running in multiple states, in other countries, on multiple continents.

Loretta ran right by my side through my first half marathon AND my first marathon. We ran side by side for Ragnar’s Reach the Beach for some of our legs, and she even ran on a few trails and mountains with me. Life gets busy, and Loretta and I don’t run together as often as we used to. Part of that is because our schedules don't always mesh, our running goals don't always match, and she isn’t too fond of trail running...or ultramarathons. But that’s okay. I still feel her energy and inspiration with me on every run.

Loretta and I celebrating after finishing my first marathon
Cape Cod Marathon 2016

Running has changed my life in ways I could never imagine. It’s given me the chance to see pieces of the world I would never see whizzing by in a car. It’s lessened my anxiety and increased my happiness tenfold. It’s helped me realize that I can overcome other obstacles or hardships in my life. I’ve learned nothing is impossible; some things just take more effort or patience or time or education.

I'm so excited to be running Cape Cod Marathon in just eight days! Especially since it's the race that sparked my love of running! 

Still, ask me on a bad run day, and I’ll tell you: “I HATE running.” But I also LOVE it. And I can’t imagine experiencing life without it ever again.

Is there something you thought you didn't like but learned to love once you gave it a real shot? Leave a comment below!

The Running Mindset: Is Distance All In Your Head?

A new runner joined our running group. She just moved here from New York and mentioned how she was a volunteer for the New York Marathon for years. When I asked her if she'd ever run the race, she said she couldn't imagine running that far. The conversation got me thinking about mindset and how my own mentality shifts based on the distance I'm running. There are distances I absolutely love and distances I absolutely loathe. But I'm not quite sure why or how I set these mental limits.

For example:

Feeling ROUGH during a 5k; BUT...
(finish reading for the payoff)

• I loathe 5ks (3.1 miles) because I feel like "I need to run for my life! no excuses! because anyone can run 3 miles and I need to PR or I am an utter failure."
• I enjoy 10ks (6.2 miles) because the first 3 miles feels like a warmup, and during the second half, I compete with my time, daring myself to run faster. 
• Half marathons (13.1 miles) are difficult but satisfactory. I want to keep a faster pace without burning out, so I focus on my breathing and footfalls. It's a nice meditation for about 2 and a half hours, give or take, and I feel so accomplished when I'm done.

Here's where things get really interesting:

• 15-mile training runs are the worst! So I do crazy mind games to distract "the suck" of it: Like, "Why does this street name sound so familiar? OMJ, I'm thinking of Woody Harrelson's character in Anger Management! Perhaps Galaska is Galaxia's evil cousin! hahahahaha" But then, 'll glance down at my watch thinking I must have run at least a mile—only to find out I ran less than a quarter-mile since I last checked. *insert wailing sob here!* Why, oh why, does this distance hate me? Furthermore, why do I always think it's a good idea to sign up for a 25k (15.5 miles) race when I know this distance is out to get me? 
• Running 16 miles makes me so, so happy. It's like a three-hour jog through meditation land.
• The 20-miler is my anxiety distance. It's four hours of me telling myself that this is Do-Or-Die

  

  Post-run meal for two, please! haha

  —If I fail, how will I ever finish a marathon? This anxiety keeps me moving, and before I know it, I'm at 20 miles. I stare at my watch to make sure I'm not dreaming. "Yes, Sera, you've hit 20 miles." Then, I check that watch three more times before believing I'm truly done.
• I devote my entire day to 25-milers (part of my training plan for ultramarathons) because they are a time suck. Knowing I don't have to do anything other than run and eat, eat, and eat some more—ooh, and soak my sore legs in the tub with some epsom salts—makes this distance tolerable. Really, I'm just preparing my brain for the monotony of running for hours more than preparing my legs to withstand the distance. At about mile 24, I get excited and wonder if I should just run that extra 1.2 miles! But by 24.7, I equate that excitement to depletion of oxygen in my brain! I just want to get through this last quarter-mile and be on to all the amazing food I dreamt about while racking up the miles. 

Now we're really getting into the chaos of the mind distances: Marathons (26.2 miles) have highs and lows throughout the race. 

Racing to the finish line at the final stretch of
Day 2 of Cape Cod Chowdah Challenge

• I usually hit 10 miles before I realize how far I've run. 
• I praise myself when I hit 13.1. HALFWAY, WOOT! 
• Mile 15 sucks because...well, because it's mile 15! 
• Miles 16–20 get me in a groove! I'm really doing this!  
• At mile, 21 I convince myself to walk. After all, I'm way ahead of my estimated finish time.
• Mile 23 sucks because I have 5k left, and I hate 5ks. Also, why did I think I was ahead of schedule? At this rate, I'll NEVER finish!
• At Mile 24, I recommit! "Sera, keep one foot in front of the other: left, right, left. Just two more miles to go!" 
• Mile 26 makes me question the logic of that extra point-two miles. Who the hell thought this nuance was a good idea? Satan, that's who!
• That final stretch speeds me up as I run as fast as my little legs will carry me because "there is the finish line and all these people are cheering and I hope my lungs don't burst from running so fast while crying tears of relief and joy and pain from tired muscles!"

Ultramarathons (50ks actually) are my absolute favorite distance because I run on a high until the very end (with the exception of mile 15, which naturally, SUCKS!)

• Hooray for mile 16! I'm past the halfway mark. That went by so fast!
• Mile 23: Whoa! I've almost hit a marathon! Time to speed things up.
• 26.2: Woot! Woot! I've just run a marathon, baby! Less than 10k to go!
• Mile 29: Maybe I'll walk for a bit. Why overdo it? You're running a 50k, Sera! Isn't that badass enough?
• Mile 29.5: Okay girl. Suck it up and finish this thing already! 
• Mile 30: Just one more mile to go! Omj! I am a badass! Is this real life? 
• Mile 31: I run straight through the finish line, feeling on top of the world!

Why do we set these limits on ourselves? Whether it's believing we can't actually run *insert said distance here* or the negative mentality we have at certain distances, it definitely puts a damper on the love of running. I'm trying to get out of my head, find that zen balance that we runners are always chasing. I don't have the answers...yet. But I think acknowledgment is the first step to getting over this negative mindset.

So my question is: How can I adjust my thinking to love 5ks as much as I love 50ks? How can I push through that brain fog, slog, or bog to find my ultimate flow no matter what distance I'm running?

Can you relate? What distances do you absolutely love? Which do you despise?

It was my FASTEST 5k ever! 2018 Westfield's Flat Fast