Sometimes I feel like women are treated as second-class citizens in races, like we are an afterthought. It’s not that anyone explicitly said to me that women aren’t welcome and it’s not about any one individual slight. When I think about all of the slights, I feel like women are being treated as if we don’t belong. Perhaps it’s this inkling that drives women to want all-women’s races, where women are at the forefront.
I'm an academic, a runner, and a New York cliché. I write about the science of exercise, training, and the culture of running. My current goals are a
sub-23:00 5K (achieved on 4/22/17 with 22:48) and a sub-1:45 HM (achieved on 10/1/17). Now what?
“Are you training for a marathon?” My husband, Ben, confronted me as I was trying to get out of the house on Saturday morning for a long run. As I stood there wondering what to say, he crowed and laughed, “You are! You are! You are training for a marathon! When were you planning on telling me?”
Drats! My secret was out.
After a disappointing race season last year and much work-related stress, I lost all desire to train for another marathon. Marathons and I were on a long break for 2017. Or so I thought. Things in my life changed for the better. A much-needed reduction in work responsibility lessened stress and gave me more time to devote to the life part of the work-life balance. I hired a running coach. Me, of all people. I once declared that I was uncoachable, but I realized that I had taken myself as far as I could with what I was doing. I needed to change. As months passed, I noticed small incremental improvements in my running. I began flirting with the idea of marathon training again, but I shied away from committing fully to training until I nailed an 18-mile race in late August.
I asked my coach, “Do you think I can BQ?”
“Yes, I absolutely do.”
I clarified, “I’m not interested in a marathon PR. It’s BQ or nothing. If I can’t BQ, then I don’t want to do this.”
“You can do this,” she reaffirmed without any hesitation.
A Boston Qualifying time for a 40-year woman is 3:45, more than 14 minutes faster than my marathon PR that I set two years ago. I haven’t had huge improvements like that in over three years. I knew I could have simply settled on working for a PR, a much more doable and easier goal, and still have what anyone would have called a good racing season, but it wasn’t enough this time. I wanted to go big or go home. It was BQ or nothing.
I quietly started training without saying a word to anyone, not even to my husband. I was secretive about marathon training for a couple of reasons. Two years ago, I wrote how announcing your goals on social media is detrimental to goal accomplishment because the praise you receive for the attempt fulfills your achievement needs. The other reason is that I discovered that I loved being left alone with my training. I went out, did my training runs, and that was the end of it. There was no endless discussion from know-it-alls about how I was doing it all wrong. It was way less stressful for me. For several weeks I successfully trained without arousing much suspicion from Ben. Eventually he figured it out and good-naturedly agreed to keep the secret from our running friends.
I chose the California International Marathon for my BQ attempt because 1) I love downhill point-to-point courses, 2) the December race date meant that long training runs were in the cooler fall and not in the sweltering summer, and 3) I had a friend living in Sacramento who was thrilled to provide me with accommodations and be a race sherpa. My friend was amazing because she chauffered me everywhere and put up with last minute panic attacks that I was in over my head.
I took the pre-race shuttle from downtown Sacramento to the start area in Folsom, which looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie with runners dressed in throwaway clothing wandering aimlessly in an empty intersection. The entire area had been closed off to traffic for CIM. The convenience stores were open, so I bought a small cup of coffee to sip nervously as I waited to start.
While standing in line for the portalets, I found two running friends in the line next to mine. I switched over and we chatted about our goals and expectations. Upon finding out that one had a similar goal time as me, we decided to run together for as long as we could, but that at any point one of us could take off. I really like that because it meant that I had company, but at the same time I was free to run my own race plan and didn’t have to debate with myself about whether I could stick with her if I wasn’t feeling it for any reason. For the first 15 miles or so, she and I ran within a few feet of each other. Sometimes she was a little bit ahead, sometimes I was, sometimes we were right next to each other. I really enjoyed having company, and along with all the great crowd support (just like NYC Marathon, only a lot smaller!), the miles flew by! I felt great and it was hard running 8:25 because I felt so good. I really wanted and was tempted to run an 8:15 pace. Seductive thoughts of blowing my time goal teased me. I was running so easy at 8:25 and honestly, 8:15 didn’t feel like any more work. I COULD DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Every time that devil tempting thought crept into my head, I firmly shut it down by whispering to myself, “Easy, easy, easy. 8:25. You have a plan. Stick to the plan,” and “Patience, patience. A marathon is a game of patience.” It was really hard running more slowly than I felt like. I forced myself to soak in the atmosphere. I smiled and waved (a little — had to conserve energy for later) at the cheering crowds. In my head, I sang along to the songs being played over loudspeakers. I punched a sign that said, “Punch here for Power.” I gently tapped a little girl’s hand who was eagerly giving out high fives.
Somewhere around mile 15 at a water station, I lost my friend. I was still feeling super good. I thought about Wineglass Marathon in 2015 and Steamtown in 2016 and how I felt in the second half. Although Wineglass went extremely well for me, I started to have mental problems starting at mile 14. Here I was at mile 15, 17, 18, and I was not suffering at all. I celebrated how differently I felt at CIM.
The first 20 miles were amazing and all I could think about was how I was going to do this.
Then at Mile 20.5 I hit The Wall.
No, seriously, they have a faux brick wall with a giant hole in the middle where the course goes through, so runners literally run through a wall. There was a huge cheering crowd, so it was a lot of fun.
It’s now time to fly! If only my legs would let me.
Mile 21, my legs are starting to feel tired, but it’s okay. Nothing I can’t handle.
Mile 22, legs are definitely heavier, as if they were starting to turn into cement. Things are less okay.
Mile 23, things are definitely NOT OKAY. My legs feel like cement blocks. I was slipping down to 9, 9:30 pace every time I glanced at my Garmin. I really wanted to stop. And since I couldn’t stop, I really wanted to slow down. Even running at a slower pace felt like a lot of effort and I couldn’t fathom running at my original intended pace of 8:25. I looked at the overall elapsed time, did some mental math and realized with horror that I could lose it all in the last 3 miles.
If I slowed down significantly I was not going to BQ. I’m starting to think that I wasn’t going to be able to do this. I thought of my race sherpa friend who was volunteering at an aid station at Mile 25. Her shift was going to end before I got there, but she promised to stay and wait for me until I passed through. I told myself, “Less than 2 miles until you see her. Push, push, push! You HAVE TO PUSH!!!” I had to concentrate hard and repeatedly tell myself, “Push, push, push!!!” in order to keep my legs churning. Otherwise, I was going to slow down too much. That easy 8:25 pace during the first 20 miles was now an uphill battle.
Mile 24, push, push, push!!!
Mile 25, I was so relieved at seeing my friend. Her broad smiling face dulled the pain in my legs the way no anesthetic could. She cheered extra loud for me and I gratefully grabbed a cup of water from her hand, which I promptly dumped over my head. I told myself, “There are 10 more minutes of suck left.”
That last mile was hard. I was so tired. My leg muscles were twitching. A blister had formed under my left big toe. I needed the bathroom. I just wanted this to be over. With every fiber of my body, especially my legs, screaming to rest, I pushed on.
I glanced at my Garmin and saw that there was only a half mile left. I told myself to take a moment to enjoy all this because it was going to be over soon. The other part of me said that it wasn’t going to be over soon enough.
I had studied the course map carefully and knew that there was a left turn at 8th Street, and after a few yards, there was another left turn to the finish line. I looked up and saw I was at 15th. I counted down to 10th Street, and then I sprinted for the finish line.
The last final turn, I see the finish line right in front of the gleaming white state capitol and I’m overwhelmed by the thought that I was going to do this. I raised my arms in victory as I cross the finish line.
I BQ’D! I ran CIM in 3:40:36, a time that gets me almost four and a half minutes under the BQ time I needed. I rang the BQ bell with the utmost enthusiasm.
I was interviewed by a news crew and I could hear my voice crack with emotion as I talked about BQ’ing. Until I BQ’d, I didn’t realize just how much it meant to me. I didn’t want to think about it as a coping strategy because I wanted to keep the pressure off me. And now that I had BQ’ed, an avalanche of emotions subsumed me. I was delirious, happy, exhausted, verklempt, and just about everything else.
7 months of coaching + 1,024 miles of training + 26.2 miles of racing = 3:40:36
I had a plan and I executed it.
Let’s be real: at some point, we’ve all been single. We’ve dated, sometimes successfully, and sometimes we’re sending an emergency escape text to your BFF.
But you know what’s funny? Dating is an awful lot like marathon training. Don’t believe me?
- There’s an app for it.
- You spend too much money on it.
- You swear you’re too busy with life to do it, but do it anyway.
- You’ve been hurt (physically, emotionally and mentally) by it.
- People love to tell you how you’re doing it wrong.
- You wonder why other people are so invested in what you do with your own time, money and body.
- Some are great, some are truly awful, but most are kinda mediocre and forgettable.
- When you don’t feel like talking about it, people ask you about it.
- You see how for other people, it goes so effortlessly and you wonder why you can’t have that yourself.
- Some you’re very eager to go on, some you dread, but most are just well, here we go again.
- Sometimes you wonder if you really are doing it all wrong.
- Sometimes you feel really lonely and frustrated.
- After an incredible one, you’re on a high and life is beautiful.
- And then a crappy one brings you down again.
- When things are going really well, you don’t want to say anything for the fear of jinxing it.
- It doesn’t matter which one you pick, there will always be someone who tells you that you should have picked the other one.
- There will be times when you’re rolling along and things are going well — or so you think — and then BAM! All of a sudden, out of nowhere, you hit a wall with no way around it. You’re left battered, bruised, and you don’t think you can do this again. In fact, you’re sure you’re not going to do this again.
- And then you go out and do it again.
Now, if only there was tinder for marathons. I’d swipe left on, say, a course that was historically too short and right on one that almost guarantees a BQ (I’m looking at you, St. George).
Convinced? What are the other ways marathon training is like dating?
I shivered in the cold, foggy air. It was minutes until the start of the Wineglass Half Marathon. The enormity of my task struck me – 8-minute miles for 13.1 miles. I audibly moaned. A girl heard me, turned around, and smiled in comfort. I shook my head, “It’s not the distance. I’m scared of the pace.” It wasn’t all that long ago that 8 min/mi was my hard tempo pace. Memories of failed tempo attempts of 3 to 4 miles with my husband, Ben, flashed through my head. I had to maintain this pace for 13.1 freaking miles. I felt sick in my stomach with fear. I drew comfort from the other women who turned around and expressed their sympathy and understanding. We were in this together. In our own way, we all were facing a challenge.
For more than two years I had been chasing after this goal of going sub-1:45 for a half marathon. For two years I missed and had to draw solace over moral victories in knowing I did my best under the conditions, whether they be weather, health, life stress, poor training, or simply not having my day. Two years of frustrations built up in me and I was wracked with irrational fear that perhaps, this was it — I peaked after a few paltry years of training. There’s some truth to the cliche that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. This past summer I overhauled my training. Rather than focusing on speed (intervals, tempo, fast finishes, etc) as I had been, instead I focused on increasing my aerobic base. This meant a lot of slow miles. My overall weekly mileage was pretty much the same as last year, but instead of running three times a week pretty fast, I ran five times a week pretty slow.
Sunday morning for Wineglass — Oct. 1 — the weather was absolutely perfect for running. It was 39 degrees, overcast, and no wind. I couldn’t have asked for better conditions. I vacillated between immediately throwing off an old PJ top right before the start or wearing it for a mile or two until I warmed up a bit more. At the last second, I decided to ditch it.
Before the start of the race, I found Karen, the 1:45 pacer, who was going to run an even pace of 7:58 with a target time of 1:44:30. Knowing that I do best with a negative split, I decided that I was going to start way behind her (but in front of the 1:50 pacer) and slowly try to catch up to her, run with her for a few miles, and then if I was feeling it, slowly pull away from her.
A horn blared signaling our start. A rush of eager runners flowed past me. I walked slowly like a condemned man heading toward the guillotine. Once I crossed the starting line, it was on. Internally I was freaking out the first three miles. The early miles in a half marathon or a marathon are supposed to feel easy and slow. It did NOT feel easy and slow. I didn’t know how I was going to be expected to carry the pace if I was working from the very beginning. But by mile 3, I caught up to Karen as I had expected and settled in with the group. I realized that I was running well and that it was going to be okay. It wasn’t going to be a perfect day with race magic when my legs are snappy and gravity was the only force that kept me on Earth, but I could tell that this was going to be a good day. I can trust my training to carry me through on a good day.
By mile 5, I stopped freaking out and realized that I was actually going to do this. I knew that if I stuck with Karen for the rest of the race, I would nail my sub-1:45 goal. It was going to be a done deal. Having chased after this goal in vain for two years, the prudent thing to do was to stick with Karen. Go for the sure goal, especially when I had missed it in so many prior races.
But rather than being content with the sure accomplishment, I debated with myself about how badly I wanted a sub-1:44 for the next two miles. There’s a fine line between having a great race and going out too aggressively and completely imploding. If I were feeling really great and knowing that this was my day, there was no doubt in my mind about going for the aggressive goal. But I wasn’t feeling great. I was feeling good. Solid. I could be conservative and ensure a really good race and PR. Or I could risk it, risk blowing another PR, by going for an aggressive goal. Which was it going to be? How badly did I want the sub-1:44?
At mile 7, I decided I wanted the sub-1:44 pretty badly. I told Karen bye and she wished me luck. I took off, leaving the 1:45 group behind me.
I didn’t take off that quickly. For the next three miles, I kept hearing Karen’s voice of encouraging her group and her laughter haunting — no, taunting me — reminding me that I was still not running as fast as I thought I was. It was galling, honestly. What could you do? I ran what I ran and I couldn’t sprint just then because it was still too many miles to the finish. I contemplated falling back in with Karen and trying again at mile 10. At a couple of the hairpin turns, I took the opportunity to see where the 1:45 group was. Seeing that they were about 30 seconds behind me made me feel a bit better. I could still do this.
At mile 10, with only a 5K left to go, it was time to move up a gear. This was the danger point for me in a half marathon. I’m pretty good at running solidly for 10 miles, but I really need to work on holding everything together for the final three. Ben promised to be waiting with Bandit for me somewhere between mile 11 and 12. I whispered to myself over and over, “Another mile until you can look for Benny and Bandit. One more mile.” I kept running. At mile 11, I started looking for Ben and Bandit and kept my hearing sharp for Ben’s voice. While I was getting tired at this point, I was amazed that I wasn’t falling apart. Yes, I was tired, but not so tired that I thought I had to stop. Instead, I was thinking, “I have ENDURANCE! I can keep running!” As long as I kept focused, I could still keep running sub-8:00 miles. Finally, just before mile 12, I heard Ben yelling for me. He took several photos of me and then ran close to me on the empty sidewalk. They kept me company for about a half mile until I ran over the final bridge. Because of the crowds on the sidewalks, Ben and Bandit couldn’t run down East Market Street to the finish line with me.
I was overwhelmed with joy when I crossed the finish line. The official time was 1:43:27 — a PR by over 3 minutes. I didn’t just get my A-goal of 1:45, but I CRUSHED IT. I got my beautiful green glass medal and stumbled to get some food. Ben found me past the finish line and I was completely delirious with happiness.
“Where’s the PR bell? I need to ring the PR bell,” I repeated to him. It was going to be my first time ringing a PR bell. All the other times that races had a PR bell, I didn’t get a PR, so I was on a mission to ring that bell! Ben patiently walked around with me until we found the bell and I proudly rang it.
Have you ever changed everything about your training in order to achieve a PR? What’s the longest that you’ve gone before you got another PR for a particular distance?
I have complicated mixed feelings about women-only races. On the one hand, I understand the historical importance of women-only races when women were routinely and institutionally shut out of competition. On the other hand, I despair over the tendency of these races to emphasize the heteronormative stereotypical ideas of womanhood of frilly pink, jewelry, tiaras, and tutus. And I say this as a heterosexual runner who loves pink and running in tutus. It’s not that I object to their existence at races, but that these women-only races tend to display a singular idea of what it means to be a woman.
My previous experience at a women-only race was last year when I earned a free race entry to any race managed by a timing company for some social media work that I did as a race ambassador for a different race. Their women-only race was the only one that fit in my schedule. I left that race underwhelmed. I didn’t care about being surrounded by other women. The race wasn’t as well-managed as their other races, so that race, and thus me as a result, felt like an afterthought.
When I first heard about Thelma & Louise Half Marathon in Moab, Utah a few years ago, I became really excited by its concept. I adored the movie and the race offered a tantalizing promise of something different from the other women-only races. I had to be patient, but I finally was able to go out to Moab a few weeks ago to experience the Thelma & Louise Half for myself.
Dear Race Directors,
Thank you for all that you do. You have the difficult job of coordinating all the moving pieces of a race so that hundreds, even thousands of runners can have a great time. I’m sure it can feel like a thankless job, because no matter how hard you try, there’s always someone who’s unhappy about what happened on race day. But this isn’t about race day. This is about what happens before the race. This is about your race’s website.
In the past five years, I’ve run over 100 races and looked at many more race websites. Some of those sites were great, but some desperately needed work. Before you protest that you don’t have money for an expensive web designer, I have easy suggestions for you to fix up your site. Read more >>
At a local race last Sunday a woman ahead of me all of a sudden stopped running in order to walk up the steep hill we were on. I run the race course nearly every week, and I know that hill well, so I went full steam and plowed ahead. As I passed the woman she turned to me and said, “You shouldn’t breathe with an open mouth.”
Seriously? Seriously! Read more >>
A “runcation” usually refers to a vacation with a running-related focus, usually involving a run along an iconic route and often including a race (whereupon it may also be known as a “racecation”). But destination races can be pricey and the timing of those events may not always work with your vacation schedule. What’s a runner to do if circumstances prohibit her from going to the PCT, visiting Tracktown or running Comrades? Well you don’t have to settle for a trip without running.
Whether you’re traveling for business or pleasure, we’ve got your back when you’re out of town. Read on for a few less conventional ways to incorporate running into your trip!
“Maybe I should get a coach,” I mused as I perused the websites of several personal running coaches who all claimed that they could help me reach my goal.
My husband sighed. Then he said, “You don’t really want a coach. You want someone to validate the choices that you’ve made with your training. You need to tell the coach, ‘Listen, I’m paying you to tell me that every decision I made was the right one.'”
Yeah, my husband knows me.
I. Am. Uncoachable.
I hate it when someone tells me what to do. I’ve had coaches in the past. It always works out the same way. First I’m excited and eager to work with them. I’m fully compliant the first month. I do everything they say. Then I’m less compliant in the second month, but more or less on track. Finally in the third month, I’m checked out of the relationship.
After last year’s successful marathon training using RLRF, I’m using it again to train for Steamtown in early October.
Monday (speed: 3 x 1600 @7:03 RI 400m): 1 mile warm up, 3 x 1 mile at 7:22, 6:59, 7:41, I hit the pace for the second interval and missed it wildly for the first and last one. Also my RI were .5 miles long, rather than the shorter 400 meters.
Tuesday: New York Road Runners (NYRR) offers a free weekly 5K all over NYC. I took it easy with my dog, Bandit, and ran it in 25:37.
Wednesday (tempo: 2 mile easy, 2 mile @7:36, 2 mile easy): 1 mile warm up and 1.7 mile @7:26 at Prospect Park, I had to abort the tempo because all of a sudden I felt like I had to throw up. I was doing so nicely until then. I tried running after running a bit to see if I could finish at least, but the queasy feeling came back and I decided to stop and walk back home.
Thursday: 1 hour of Vinyasa. This was the first time I practiced yoga in almost a year. I haven’t practiced yoga regularly in three years, ever since I moved away from Astoria. While this new (to me) studio isn’t the same as my old place, it’s decent enough and the price is right at $7/class. As I practiced, I was painfully aware of how stiff I’ve become.
Saturday (13 miles @8:57): 11 miles at 9:30, I ran with a teammate from my running club, Prospect Park Track Club, for the first half. I meant to do all thirteen miles, but I cramped up badly at 11 miles, so I quit. The pace was slow because I don’t stop my Garmin at stop lights and we have some awfully long lights on the route. Without all the stops, I ran a 9:05 pace.
Sunday: Coney Island 5K, 3.1 miles @7:50 for 24:21. This was the first decent 5K that I’ve done in several months. I was pleased with my performance.
Total mileage: 24.1 miles
I got a lot of miles in, didn’t quite nail the runs. It was an okay week.
Hey Salties, I’m back! I disappeared for a while because I was overwhelmed with work for the past couple of months and I wasn’t doing much running because of bronchitis. I still have bronchitis (it’s now been three months), but it’s much better now. The cold air from East Coast’s lingering winter isn’t helping, but at least I’m not hacking away every few minutes.
Since I’ve last done a training log, I’ve gradually increased my weekly mileage. I had a great training week this past week and I feel that I’m *almost* back to my old level of fitness. So things are looking up.
Tuesday – 5 miles on treadmill (1 mile warm up, 2 miles of intervals with walking breaks, 2 miles of cool down). Very good speed work. I felt great afterward.
Thursday – 4.5 miles on treadmill (2 miles warm up, 2.5 miles at 8.0 mph)
Saturday – 8.43 miles (1:13:13, 8:41 pace) with my running club. This was a fantastic run! The pace would have been closer t0 8:30, but we got caught at a couple long red lights. This was a confidence boosting run.
Sunday – 9.3 miles (1:31:30, 9:49 pace). This was the Brookhaven Trail 15K that I entered for fun. I wanted some more miles and did a race because I knew that I would be more likely to do the mileage in a race, rather than on my own. My legs were tired from Saturday’s run, but I ran what I thought was a good pace for a trail run. I’m not a great trail runner and the stretches of sandy paths made for slow going. The race had a cute little touch of having a PR bell that you ran if you ran a PR. Since this was the inaugural race, the race director told us that we all ran PRs. This was my first trail 15K, so I did technically PR.
Things are slowly down slightly at work, so I hope to be back blogging and commenting more regularly. Belated welcome to all the new Salty Running bloggers.
Total mileage: 27.2 miles
Miles to go until the finish line, exhausted from all the miles you’ve already run, you wonder how you’re going to finish. You hear the cheers and claps from spectators and you pick up your feet a little faster. If you’re like me, though, your favorite type of support from spectators is a great race sign.
A race sign that makes me smile and laugh and, for a brief second, forget the pain I’m in. When I’m tired and losing motivation on the course, seeing someone who took the time to make an incredibly creative and witty race sign, reminds me that running is fun and motivates me to finish strong.
Conversely, lame signs make me sad. Why take the time to make a race sign if you’re not going to do it right? Here are some tips and ideas on how to make great race signs for your friends, family, other loved ones, and, the best of all, for all runners. Read more >>
Tuesday: The sidewalks and the park were icy and slushy, so I went to the gym. I did a .5 mile of warm up and then a few intervals of speed work (.25 mile at 8.5 mph, .35 mile at 8.5 mph, & .5 mile at 8.5 mph) with walking breaks. It was fun being able to move a little faster. Then I did some strength training (3 x 5 x 15 lb shoulder press & 3 x 10 x 16 kg kettlebell swings).
Saturday: 4.3 mile run in Prospect Park at 8:57 pace. Then I rewarded myself with a delicious decadent brunch of freshly baked biscuits & sausage gravy with scrambled egg.
Sunday: 2.4 mile run in Prospect Park at 10:14 pace with my dog, Bandit. She was very well-behaved today. She stayed with me and didn’t bark at anyone or try to chase anything. She’s learning how to behave when we go out running, so it’s no longer the chore that it was when we first started.
I still have bronchitis, so it looks like the NYC United Half Marathon in mid-March is going to be a very expensive fun run for me. I’m a little bummed about this because while I never planned this to be a goal race, I did want to race this. I have no problems using races for training runs, but I pick cheaper races to do that.
In terms of running and bronchitis, some days are good and some days are bad. There is no way to predict which day it will be. When I feel good and not hampered, I push myself a tiny bit and run faster. When I feel like coughing is taking over my body, I relax and run slowly. For every run, I run what feels comfortable and good. I note the pace just to have a record, but I’m not governed by the numbers on the Garmin.
As I ran and breathed in the crisp cold air, an unwelcome and familiar grip squeezed my chest. In seconds, breathing became harder and more labored, forcing me to stop and try to reclaim my breath. Asthma, my dear enemy, was back, and I knew its companion bronchitis would potentially follow right on its heels.
Unlike acute bronchitis, the chronic version is a lifelong condition; I should know, as I’ve had it since I was a baby. It is not contagious and is not caused by bacteria or a virus. It does, however, damage the lungs by permanently scarring them. My lungs are in such poor shape that doctors who don’t know me accuse me of lying when I tell them that I was never a smoker.
The battle usually begins with an environmental allergy, the reaction to which appears as asthma symptoms that quickly deepen. Once bronchitis sets in, I have a deep and persistent cough that lasts for two to three months. And nothing can coax bronchitis to leave until it feels like leaving.
Having lived with chronic bronchitis for most of my life, I have developed strategies to control and manage my asthma so it doesn’t get between me and my running. Read more >>
Happy Valentine’s Day, Salties!
Tuesday Feb 2: Easy 2 miles (9:21 pace)
Saturday Feb 6: Easy 3 miles (10:36 pace)
Sunday Feb 7: Easy 4 miles (10:05 pace)
Tuesday Feb 9: Easy 6.5 miles (9:40 pace)
I’m still not running much because of my chronic bronchitis and weather. This past weekend New York City has hit super chilly weather. Upstate New York may see temperature like this regularly, but single digits are unusual for us. I opted out of running or even going out to go to the gym because even breathing in the incredibly cold air for a few seconds is not good for me. Resting is fine.
I’m kinda tired of coughing, but based on past experience, I have another few weeks of coughing ahead.
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