It’s 2018. So what?


New Year’s Day rubs me the wrong way. As usual, I’ve been letting these ideas toss around in my head for far too long, letting my mind roll over and over them, softening the edges once sharp and poignant.

January means change. Not all New Year resolutions are bad, but as an individual who used to make some pretty awful ones, I don’t seem to like them too much anymore. Other than the year turning on the calendar, January is no different than any other month.

I decided to make zero resolutions this year. And its not because I’m not an ambitious person or someone who is afraid to fail, but it’s because I think putting weight into the start of one day in particular is dumb. Usually, the moment you come off the rails of your resolution you feel an immense amount of guilt and negativity, and I’m not about that anymore. If living with Lyme has taught me one thing, it’s you take your days step by step. You cherish every little victory, even if it is only getting out of bed in the morning. You keep on fighting.


Maybe January and New Year resolutions piss me off so much because I see so many people tie their goals into the toxic diet culture surrounding us.

Recently, I’ve gone through a bunch of my old writings – journal entries, essays, short stories, my jumbled memoir pieces and there’s a haunting tone to many of them. An unease, uncertainty. Maybe it can be related to maturing, but I’m not so sure. Growing up, I was always acutely aware of what was expected from me and the image I needed to uphold. I was inquisitive and always listening, and knew whenever there was a problem with my family or friends. And I put the burden on myself, somehow taking the blame for those problems when they came up. I believed I failed to meet the expectations of these people in my life.

Flashback to high school – November, 2007. I am nothing more than a heap of blankets bathed in the blue glow of the television. There is a brief knock on the door and I could see my mother’s small figure against the light flooding in from the hall.

“Dinner is ready,” she announces, opening the door farther and allowing the intruding ray to widen on my carpet.

“Okay,” I mutter, retreating deeper into my cave of twisted sheets, deeper into the warmth of darkness. I’ve just learned I have a stress fracture in the femoral neck of my hip and I’m out for the rest of my cross country season, not to mention all of winter track as well.

She lingers for a moment longer, as if to say something more, but instead allows a low, exasperated sigh to escape her lips as she turned to retreat down the stairs.

Running is my everything.

On December 31st, 2007, I wrote a nasty New Year’s resolution journal entry to myself and vowed to make a change. It didn’t matter I was struggling with depression then, I figured if I lost weight and made a comeback to running I would be happy again. While I could read all the people around me, I let no one in. The darkness I felt clawing within was mine and I vowed to beat it on my own. I was afraid to give anyone the idea I was vulnerable and hurting. I was afraid to share my burden and break anyone else.

Running was my everything.

But it isn’t anymore.

I have my wonderful friends and family. I have a job I care greatly about. And I have dreams of being something more in my life than just a runner. Running is just a piece of me, not all of me. I’m not afraid to pursue other dreams like I used to be. I can travel. I can write in the early morning instead of hit the treadmill. I can lace up my running shoes, but then go for a walk instead to take photos, listen to music and enjoy nature. I can take each day at a time and not worry about missing training like I used to so many years ago.

Lyme has slowed me down, but in a good way. Lyme has made me realize I should chase my dreams no matter how crazy they are, and I shouldn’t be afraid to fail. Lyme has taught me I will fail, but just because I fail it shouldn’t mean I can’t get back up and try again.

In high school, when I began to fail at running, I blamed it all on myself. I blamed my hip stress fracture on my weight, not because I overtrained or my body didn’t adequately absorb enough calcium and vitamin D to keep my bones healthy. Society, and the particular highly competitive realm of running I was absorbed in, taught me to be fast you had to be skinny. And by being faster I would be successful. And if I was successful, I would be happy. In high school I did love running for the pureness of it, and for the serenity it gave me in an otherwise tumultuous time in my life. But I only wanted to be fast so I could get into a good college, and make my parents proud. Running was all I had.

I can still remember my first big race back from the stress fracture. The end of my senior year track season was upon me and my coach entered me in a track meet with an open 5k event at Holmdel High School. Because anyone could enter, my assistant coach was going to run in the race with me and my teammates to pace. I had never run a 5k on the track and I was nervous. But we knew the distance suited me, and this was my last chance at doing anything substantial for the season.

A few hours before the race, Erin and I got in the car to drive ourselves over to the track. The sun was low in the sky and the beautiful spring air brought hope of better days after a particularly hard winter. Erin drove and we rolled the windows down as we sped out of the neighborhood, the cool wind whipping our hair up in a wild dance around our faces. For whatever reason, I can’t remember now, we blasted Our Song on repeat as we drove along the rolling road, the low sun peeking in and out of the trees as we sang along to the lyrics. I remember looking up at the strawberry pink sky, sensing I was on the brink of something great.

It wasn’t long before I stood on the starting line, jumping up and down, shaking the nervous energy through my legs. I stared down at my blue and white Nike spikes I was given at Nike Team Nationals, and remembered my confidence and strength there. As I toed the familiar start line, I cleared my mind of any doubt. I thought about all the hard work I had put in since January. My return to running. Consistent training. Losing weight. I believed I was in the best shape of my life.

The starting gun rang clear through the light evening air and I settled quickly into the middle of the pack surrounded by my teammates as my assistant coach took the lead. All around me I could hear the labored breathing of my teammates, but the pace felt easy to me. Calmness overcame me, and there was something soothing about the sound of our spikes hitting the track, our feet lightly bouncing in a rhythmical cadence on the polyurethane surface. I loved being in the middle of the pack. I fed off the energy around me and let it carry me through the laps.

As we circled the track lap after lap the sun set behind the tree line and dusk settled over the field. The track lights were on and they glared down brightly at us as we continued along. Our pack strung out and only a few other girls hung on to my coach’s pace. But still, it felt too easy. I knew I had to go, and I was excited. As I confidently pulled neck and neck with my coach he could sense the energy I had left. He quickened the pace and I matched it. I could sense his excitement. We left the other girls quickly behind as he began to pull me along at a much faster pace. I wasn’t racing anyone but myself now.

I don’t remember pain from this race. I remember a lightness, a feeling of oneness and an understanding of myself and what I thought I was meant to do. When I crossed the finish line my coach met me with an enormous hug as I gasped for breath from sprinting the final lap. A great smile was plastered across my face and a sense of accomplishment overcame me, a feeling I had almost forgotten. I ran 18:44. It was the fastest I had ever run in my life.

I attributed my success that evening to my strict diet and training, not to my perseverance, or the raw talent and the determination I had from running for so many years. After finishing, I immediately thought how I could get faster. I thought about continuing my resolution. And I was happy, at least for a little while. Before I let myself spiral out of control.

In college, at the bottom of my spiral, I picked up the broken pieces of myself. It’s at Bucknell where everything imploded and it’s also here where I finally started taking control of my life again.

That’s not to say I stopped making horrible New Year’s resolutions. While in a sense I was no longer “sick”, my mind was still unhealed. It was like an open wound refusing to scar, and I couldn’t shake my horrible body image, or the other shadows lurking in the corner. Up through 2014, on each December 31st I would tell myself the next day I would get back on track. Each year, I tried to warp into someone different, not for myself but all the people around me. I felt pressure to be thin, but not TOO thin. To run and be fast, but not let it consume my life. To be constantly happy, even though life doesn’t always call for happiness.

I am stronger now.

Since 2014, I’ve obviously made some resolutions. Some of them had to do with my writing, some of them running, but I no longer have the desire to try and turn myself into someone I’m not.

So, there will be no resolutions this year, no vows to run, to write, or to change myself.

I still have plenty of plans and dreams to fulfill this year, but I’m going to take it step by step. This year, there will be excitement and good memories. There will be challenges and sadness. There will be opportunities and downfalls, clarity and confusion, and I’ll meet them head on like I always do.

It’s 2018.

A string of numbers. A date.

So what?


© Allison Donaghy 2018 All Rights Reserved



The 57 miles (ok 59.8 miles) from Penn State to Bucknell RECAP

4 AM.

My alarm screams, ripping through the darkness and my eyes flutter open immediately. Scrambling quickly, I throw the heavy covers off myself in the dark hotel room and reach to silence my phone before I wake my parents. As I turn off my alarm I stare blankly into the dark room for a moment, trying to comprehend what I’m about to do.

Today is the day I run 57 miles from Penn State to Bucknell to raise money for Lyme disease research and awareness. It’s the day I’ve been training for since my diagnosis, over a year, and the day I prove to myself what my body is actually capable of doing. Surprisingly, I’m no longer nervous. I’m excited.

Shuffling quietly around the hotel room I gather my first outfit for the day. My parents are in the other bed and even though I’m tip-toeing around as if they are still asleep, I know they’re lying there awake, trying to process why my alarm rang at such an ungodly hour. But I can’t sleep any longer, and my legs are ready to hit the road.

Outside it is 40 degrees or so and I decide on a pair of tights, my Pacers race tank, arm sleeves, gloves and an incredibly lightweight jacket. The sun won’t come up until 7:30 AM so I stuff my jacket pocket with two LED lights and a headlamp.

Once dressed I push open the conjoining door to our other hotel room and join Dave and my sisters. We make sure my bag full of extra running clothes, nutrition, and shoes is set for the van, and we pack up the rest of our things for my parents’ car while I eat some toast and peanut butter. We quietly play the song Go the Distance from Disney’s Hercules, and giggle excitedly as we sing along, until my Dad comes in and sternly tells us to keep it down. As I ready my first bottle of Tailwind, Erin and I mouth the words silently to each other, still playing the song anyways, not letting my Dad put a damper on our energy.

When we step outside of the Nittany Lion Inn, I see the slick sheen of a wet street beneath the street lights, and realize it’s raining. It wasn’t forecasted, but because it’s just a drizzle I don’t worry too much. We hop in the van and drive through State College’s campus – not another soul on the streets. As we approach the stadium and the track facility my stomach does a flip flop. It feels surreal the moment is finally here.

We learned the day before the outdoor track was kept locked and we would be unable to get access to the traditional start line I had imagined myself standing at for so many months. But, because ROTC was practicing on the indoor track at 5:30 AM, I would be able to run a lap on the indoor track instead. As we hop out of the van I see the ROTC kids beginning to filter into the track facility, and I hurriedly grab my gels and gloves before rushing over to grab the locked door they’re holding open.

When I walk into the facility a flood of memories take hold. I remember the smell of the rubberized track, the lofty ceilings, and spacious warm up area. I remember the last time I stepped on this track as a freshman in college, sick and unready to run a 5k. I think about how that race felt apart for me, how I barely had energy to finish, and how disappointed I was in myself for failing my team. Not today, I say to myself as I approach the familiar 200m oval. Today, I would run a lap to start my 57 mile journey, on the track I never truly was able to be myself on and show my true potential.

ROTC shows me no particular interest as I step gingerly up onto the red lanes. I look over at my family waiting behind the rail and they smile encouragingly at me. My watch is

ready to go and reads 0:00:00. With a satisfying beep, the seconds start piling up on the watch face as I take my first few steps on the track.

It’s silent. I run past the 5k start and see my younger self standing there, unsure and afraid. I see a girl who doesn’t yet understand who she is and the strength inside her. She’s sad and confused, still struggling with depression and an eating disorder, and doesn’t know beauty and strength is more than a number on the scale or a reflection in the mirror. I blow past that girl on the track, my body strong, mind powerful and heart so full of love and gratitude it hurts. I don’t look back as I continue my lap around the track. I know she’ll be okay.


My family cheers for me as I come back around the bend and finish my lap. I’m smiling now. It’s go time.

Once outside my Dad and Dave join me to run me out of Penn State. The roads are peaceful and dark and even though it’s chilly, I warm up quickly. We chat to pass the time as we run toward Route 45, the road I’ll be running the majority of my 57 miles on. As I try to keep pace in check, I notice the light drizzle is steadily increasing, and rain comes down steady and cold. Earlier in the first few miles we had all shed our jackets, but as the wind blows a sheet of icy rain in my face, I quickly throw my jacket back on in hopes of retaining a bit of heat.

Route 45 brings our first big challenge of the run. We run down the two lane road single file in the shoulder against traffic, but the road is narrow coming into Penn State. Traffic from the surrounding towns begins streaming in and we are faced with a constant line of fast-driving cars, coming dangerously close to the line. Even though we are decked out with headlamps, blinking lights and reflective gear, cars have a hard time seeing us in the rain, swerving out unexpectedly last minute as their headlights illuminate our single file line. Some cars angrily honk and my heart beats wildly in my chest. This was not what I imagined, and I am afraid for my family’s lives.


Our first stopping point with Erin, Caitlin, and my mom is about 6-7 miles in. We can see them parked up ahead on the opposite side of the highway and I know it’s a no go. I’m already on edge because of my father’s frustration and the horrifying traffic, and as we come to a stop across the road from our caravan, we’re all suddenly screaming back and forth at each other with no real conversation happening.

“ENOUGH,” I finally scream. My entire body is shaking and I’m unsure if it’s from fear, frustration or the cold. “I’m running up ahead and I’ll meet you when I meet you.”

“I’m going to help them find a place to park up ahead,” Dave tells me and he expertly dashes across the road during a break in the traffic to talk with my mom.

“Let’s go,” my dad exclaims, “you stay behind me.”

The dark road and constant traffic is daunting. We make mad dashes across tiny bridges with no shoulder and I find myself singing over and over in my head, Jesus take the Wheel. I curse my sisters for getting the song stuck in my head in the first place, but I can’t deny how relevant the song is in the moment. Eventually, I see my mom and sisters in a pull-out up ahead and we re-assess, grab more fuel, and my dad and I decide to continue on together until the sun comes up.

The next few miles are a wash of head lights and rain. My dad runs ahead of me, the steady rhythm of his cadence guiding my own steps forward. I want to talk to him but there is no way he’ll be able to hear me over the traffic. In some ways, the silence is comforting in itself. We know we don’t have to talk to make a connection, running is our connection. Following his footsteps is something I’ve done all my life, and I feel comfortable with his reliable figure ahead of me.

Slowly, the sky lightens at the edges. The menacing dark fades and shadows of farmhouses and barns become clear against the graying sky. The silhouette of mountains surrounds us and my heart lifts as I watch the first ray of light peek through the trees on the horizon. We’re finally visible running along the shoulder and the traffic does not feel as threatening. My dad pulls along side of me for a moment. We look half crazed I’m sure – soaked to the bone from the rain and our brains still trying to comprehend the traffic. We ask each other if we’re okay, and we both lie, replying yes.

We meet up with the van around the half marathon mark and my dad switches off with Erin. Because the roads are still too dangerous to bike, she runs instead, packing her bike jersey full of nutrition and hydration. It’s still drizzling on and off and I change only my socks, deciding to keep on my damp outfit on until the rain is completely finished. Surprisingly, I’m not cold.


The miles pass quickly as Erin and I chat about life, health, future plans and upcoming races. We fall into our old rhythm together and it is as if we’re out for just another training run, not 14 miles in to a 57 mile endeavor.

We are seamless with the undulating rhythm of Route 45 and we follow the ups and downs through winding countryside and one-street towns. It’s much later into the morning now but the world still seems to be waking. As we pass one farm in particular, all the cows in the pasture look up at us as we run by. Slowly, one of the cows trots after us. And then another. And another. I can’t help to pick up the pace as I glance back over my shoulder and see the whole herd chasing after us along the rickety fence. Laughing, we leave them at the end of the field, their curious eyes still staring as we disappear around a bend in the road. An Amish horse and buggy passes us a few moments later, and we wave to each other from the gravel roadside. It’s as if we’ve entered another world.

Being out in the Pennsylvania countryside reminds me of the hundreds of runs I set out on while a student at Bucknell. Runs I took with the team. Runs I took with new friends, Erin, or the runs I set out alone to try and find a little piece of my self. When I ran alone, I sought nature to heal me. Sometimes I ran to fight the demons I often felt lurking inside. Sometimes I ran to soothe heartache, and other times to distract myself from a feeling inside I did not quite understand how to describe. An emptiness I was sure I could fill if only I pushed myself a little harder, a little farther. If I felt a little more pain. I never found the answer then, but had a feeling I would today.

Miles pass. As we approach mile 23, I come to the parking lot of Millheim Small Engine Hardware. It is a small, local store and as I come up to the van I can see my dad up at the store front talking with an Amish man. At this point, I’ve fallen into a routine at my rest stops: check my Tailwind, grab more gels and check my socks. My legs are still feeling chilled so I decide to keep on my tights but opt to finally change out of my damp arm warms, tank and jacket. The rain must finally be done, I say to myself as I rummage through my bag, looking for my Bucknell training tech tee I’ve had since becoming a member of the cross country team. Grabbing the tee and sports bra from my bag I go around to the back of the shop where my mom tells me there is a port-a-potty and begin to change. As I don my fresh tops, I hear the pitter of rain against the plastic roof of the port-a-potty. Screw it, I say to myself as I burst out of the small bathroom and trot back over to the car. I love running in the rain, but I am quickly growing tired of it on this run.

When I get back to the car my mom tells me the owner of the shop wants to talk with me and he’s made a donation to my run. Although I’m eager to get back out onto the road, I know my run is just as much about the journey as it is about the running. I want this day to be about the people I meet and the memories I make with my friends and family as we raise awareness for Lyme disease research. I walk over to the man my dad is chatting with and introduce myself. His name is Henry and I learn his daughter is currently in treatment for lyme. He tells me her story and how no one could diagnose her, and how she probably had lyme for a long, long time once she was finally diagnosed. His story reminds me of how many people are affected by lyme and why I’m out running in the first place. I’m running for those who cannot, I remind myself. I’m 23 miles in, but I feel like I’m starting fresh.


Dave runs a few miles with me and then switches off with my Dad. At this point we’re a few miles past my first marathon and we’re headed for Bald Eagle State Park. It’s here I’ll hit my biggest hills and where I expect my legs to start really hurting. As we near 30 miles, my dad and I run stride for stride, chatting about memorable runs long in our past.

“You’re going to learn a lot about yourself out here,” my dad says pointedly, during a lull in our conversation.

“I know.” Nothing else needs to be said.

A little past 30 miles we begin climbing a hill into Bald Eagle State Park. I can see a larger crowd of people standing on the side of the road up ahead. Our Bucknell alum friends have arrived, and I am excited to have fresh legs to run with and the energy they bring to all they do. There is a lot of hugging as I cross the road to greet them and they ask how I’m feeling. Surprisingly, my legs still feel relatively fresh other than some fatigue growing in my quads. I decide to finally change from my tights into shorts, and change into a new pair of Hokas, a wide width I planned to use as my feet swelled with the mileage. With a fresh pair of socks, I can almost trick myself into feeling brand new.

The guys decide to take turns running with me in groups of two or three. I head into Bald Eagle State Park with Justin and Tim and we talk to pass the miles as we continue to climb up and up. The trees are full of reds, yellows and oranges in Bald Eagle and even though my legs are starting to feel fatigued, I can’t help but feel happy to be running through the fall foliage with friends on a now-beautiful day. When we finally reach the top of an endless hill, around mile 35, Justin lets me know we’re at the top and it’s all downhill from there. Of course, I don’t believe him (he was right).


The miles begin to blur together, but distinct memories stick out to me: randomly bursting into song, singing Vanessa Carlton’s A Thousand Miles as we head downhill through Bald Eagle; passing the gravel road where our cross country coach used to take us to run a wretched hill workout each season; leaving the park with Chuck and Mike and realizing I still have at least 18 miles to go.

It is the middle of the day now, and as we leave the shelter of Bald Eagle, I realize how much the road has warmed up in the sun. I assess how I’m feeling. My intake of water and Tailwind has been steady and with the help of my team, I successfully am taking gels every 45 minutes or so. Even though I have not eaten any real food since my toast early in the AM, I have no desire for real food. My legs feel stronger than I expected them to be this late in the game and my spirits are high.


Throughout my training for this day I kept mentally preparing myself to deal with the inevitable wall I envisioned myself not only hitting, but slamming into full force once I went over a 50k. But the wall was no where in sight and in a moment of realization I knew I was never going to hit it. I was much stronger than I ever imagined. Every ounce of my body and soul was ready for this day and I was going to enjoy it.

Somewhere around mile 43 we come upon a gas station. I am running with Justin and Josh at this point, and I insist on going inside to try and go the bathroom. I don’t really need to go, even though I’ve been drinking fluids all day. Part of me feels I have to try because I had not gone since mile 7 of the run. We walk into the gas station and suddenly, everything feels surreal. I’ve been out on the road for so long running it doesn’t seem right for me to be in a public place, in front of other people, trying to function normally. Shuffling over to the bathroom I lock myself inside and look at myself in the mirror for the first time since the hotel room back in Penn State. It’s odd who I see staring back. I’m weary, but determined. My legs ache now, but they’re still strong. The days leading up to my run I had wondered, but what if I can’t finish, and now I only wondered what will we do once I’m finished?

Josh, Justin and I leave the gas station and head back out to Route 45. Although the road is beautiful, I’ve just about had it with the highway and when one of the guys suggest we hop over to the rail trail in a few miles I don’t hesitate to agree. It feels incredibly warm as we trudge along the open road and I can feel my stride shortening as I try to lessen the impact on my legs.

I keep shuffling along the shoulder as I get back into my rhythm after our stop, and step over what looks like a metal straight-edge spatula. Before my brain can even process what Justin is doing, I watch him scramble to pick it up mid step. As I look over my shoulder to see why he is holding it, I watch him turn back and chuck it tomahawk style down the shoulder. In a perfect arch, blade over handle, we watch it collide with a telephone pole, the metal end wedged deep into the wooden beam, sticking out perfectly perpendicular to the road.

“Did you see that?” Justin screams and for a moment we’re all just standing and shouting in excitement on the side of the road as we stare at a metal spatula sticking out of a telephone pole.

It’s then I realize we might be a bit dehydrated.

Mile 47 brings us to the Buffalo Valley Rail Trail. We’re about ten miles out and everyone is getting excited. My college coach is at the trail head and lets me know he plans to start track practice at the outdoor track because it should line up perfectly with my projected finish time. Even though I am so close, it is still hard for me to envision myself finishing yet. I know it is going to happen, but it seems too soon. My sense of time is warped.

The rail trail is relaxing. At this point I am taking small walking breaks more frequently, but it gives me more time to take in the little moments and appreciate all the support from my family and friends. My dad, Caitlin and Erin join me on the trail for one leg and it’s the first time I can remember all working out together since our childhood. Colorful trees and big open farm fields surround us and I begin to recognize the roads we cross over as ones I once ran down during college.


My watch beeps and we hit 57 miles.

“Alright guys, we did it,” I jokingly exclaim pretending to slow to a stop, even though we have a few more miles ahead of us. The 57 miles stares up at me from my watch and it’s hard to imagine all those miles behind me. The morning’s dark treacherous miles seems like an entirely different day and I had been having so much fun with my family and friends over the past few hours, the miles built up effortlessly. Before the run, there was a part of me believing if the run ended up being more than 57 miles I wouldn’t be able to run another step. But here I was continuing on toward Bucknell, planning out what we would do for dinner since I was actually finishing at a normal hour.


About 1.5 miles out, I say goodbye to most of my crew as they speed off to the finish. Our assistant coach, Coach Rob, from Bucknell has run out on the trail to meet me and run me to the track with Erin, Dave and a few other Bucknell guys. Being so close to the end, I feel a surge of energy and I know it will all be over soon, so I try to take in every moment. Every step takes me one closer and I can feel the emotions beginning to build. Soon my feet are carrying me down a familiar route I’ve run countless times before.

We hit Market Street and I gingerly step along the cracked sidewalk. The busy street is lined with Lewisburg’s historic green three-globe lamp posts and it’s a sign we’re finally home. We hang a right onto 7th street and campus looms ahead of us.

Running down 7th street feels natural. Back in college, I ended so many of my runs cruising down this road back to my dorm or the field house. It takes us past Stucco, our cross country house and past 7th Street Cafe, one of my places of work while a student. As we pass by Stucco we all glance over at the pale yellow house where we spent a good deal of our time. It held different memories for all of us I’m sure, but many we also shared.

We hang a right onto Moore Avenue and are greeted by Welcome Home decals hanging from the lamp posts. Campus is just as I always remember it, and I can almost trick myself into thinking I’m still a student and returning to campus after a quick afternoon run. We head down Moore and as we near the outdoor track, the guys race ahead to watch me finish. Coach Rob runs me up to the gates, and leaves me to run through to the track on my own.

My heart is pounding and I can’t stop smiling. This is it. The moment I’ve been envisioning for over a year. The moment where I enter Bucknell’s track and finish in the spot where I finished my collegiate career.

As I run through the front gate, my friends, family, and the track team are all waiting for me. They clap and cheer as I run past and I am overwhelmed by the support. I step onto the blue and orange lanes and am greeted with the all-too familiar smell of polyurethane. It reminds me of past workouts, races and endless loops with my teammates. It reminds me of the place I came from and the hardships I endured to make me the person I am today.

Rounding the final bend I can feel tears welling in my eyes. I am proud of myself. Proud of all I accomplished in the past 10 hours or so, and all it took for me to get to this moment. All my failures, struggles, accomplishments, and dreams led me here to the finish.

Running has always grounded me and steered me to clarity in my life. As I near the finish I think about the doctors who told me I wouldn’t be able to run again after my knee surgery and I should take up another “hobby.” I remember the triumph I felt after I finished my first marathon and qualified for Boston, the pride I had finishing Boston, and the absolute elation I felt after taking on my first 50k while still in treatment for Lyme. I think about all the things people have told me I can’t do and how I went and did them anyways – sometimes in spite, and sometimes to prove to myself I wasn’t the broken individual I often felt like.



Crossing the line, I throw my hands triumphantly into the air. I slow to a stop and hit the final split on my Garmin to end the run. There’s so much hugging and celebration that I could not stop smiling if I tried. The final mileage on my Garmin states 59.8 miles in 9:28:49 (10:50:18 was the total elapsed time from start to finish).

After standing on the track for a bit, it finally dawned on me it was over. I raised $6,350 for Lyme disease research and awareness but the journey to and during November 2nd, was more than I could have ever asked for. The sun is setting as I slowly walk off the track (this is where the sore quads finally caught up with me) and I am so thankful for what my body was able to do and for all the friends and family who helped me along the way. I looked over my shoulder one final time at the finish line of my journey as we walked out toward the waiting car.

Until next time.

Many, many thanks to all who supported me during my training and the day of my event. I couldn’t have done it without my many friends who got me out the door on long run days and kept me company on endless runs. 

And again, thank you so much to my support crew: my parents (moms and dads on both sides of the fam!), Caitlin, Erin, Dave, Chuck, Josh, Chris, Justin, Tim, and Mike!







Living with Lyme

May is Lyme disease awareness month!


Even though I’m at the end of the month here, I thought it would be timely to make a post about how lyme affects me.  Generally, I don’t really like talking about my symptoms or when I’m sick. I’ve always struggled with sharing my feelings and feeling vulnerable, in fear of disappointing friends and family. But now that I’ve decided to do the 57 mile run in November to raise money for Lyme disease research and awareness, it’s only fair I share a little more about the disease.

I share my symptoms NOT because I want you to feel sorry for me, but because lyme is often viewed as an invisible illness. Myself and many others who struggle with lyme often look perfectly “healthy” on the outside, even though inside our bodies are raging in war. I’m sharing my symptoms because it’s a difficult disease to understand because of it’s complexity, co-infections, and vast ways it affects every single person who’s been bitten.


This is my number one problem of late.  I can have anywhere between 3-5 headaches a week and they last ALL day.  Usually, I feel the pain building throughout the day like an angry thunderhead, so by the time I get home from work it feels crippling to move (fun!!!!). I have the pleasure of experiencing light and noise sensitivity with these headaches too, so once I feel one coming on, I need to get out of loud environments to lessen the building pain.


Since treatment, my fatigue has definitely improved. I used to hardly be able to handle going to work, and whenever I got home I was so tired I could only lay on the couch and nap until it was time to go to bed. Luckily, now I’m able to workout, go to work, write, see friends and do some house chores without completely destroying myself, but I still take things day to day.  I know when I’m overdoing it when I start to have trouble getting out of bed in the morning again, and when I wake up feeling like utter crap.  I still have weeks when I feel horrible and can hardly do anything but drive myself to and from work, but luckily these have lessened.

The past two weeks I’ve been struggling with fatigue a lot. I’ve taken this time off from training, and even though taking a step back is EXTREMELY difficult for me, my body feels much better and rested now.  Treatment of my fatigue is bundled up in my many supplements and restrictive diet, and I’ve learned with I’m lax with my diet, my fatigue increases significantly.


Ah, joint pain. But this isn’t the only way I experience inflammation. While I do ache periodically in my joints – usually my elbows, wrists, fingers, knees (especially my arthritic knee), and ankles – these aches honestly don’t bother me much.  A few years ago, because of inflammation in my scalp, I was diagnosed with diffuse areata alopecia by the Mayo Clinic.  Basically, my hair hates me and likes to come out. A lot.  While the intense hair loss has lightened up since starting treatment, my hair is still incredibly thin and comes out whenever it pleases. I don’t think I’ll ever have the head of hair I had back in high school/college. The hair loss used to bother me a lot more because I tied my conception of beauty with my long hair, but I know better now.


This really ties into the inflammation, but because my stomach has pained me the most, I decided to give it it’s own section. Before I was diagnosed with lyme, I was seeing doctors for my stomach issues and we believed I could have Crohn’s disease. While my stomach issues are 80% better than last year, they used to be intense. I couldn’t eat a lot of the times, I had horrible lower stomach cramping/pain, and my stomach was constantly upset.

While my blood work did flag for Crohn’s (something to do with the inflammation I came back positive for) all other testing came back negative.  I had SO MANY procedures, I can’t even remember what they all were called but I was clean on everything except my endoscopy.  During my endoscopy my doctor discovered I have metaplasia (cells changing) in my stomach.  This is still something I need to monitor and will most likely have another endoscopy this summer to make sure it’s not worsening.

Because of my digestive issues, I try to stick to a pretty particular diet.  I am gluten free (except for the occasional beer every few weeks I can’t seem to stay away from) and mostly dairy-free too (this is new).  I don’t really eat much meat anymore either.

Recently I had a KBMO FIT test because of some continued digestive issues and my headaches/fatigue. The test identifies foods likely to cause food sensitivity. Using a blood sample, IgG and complement reactions are measured against 132 foods and additives which cause delayed food sensitivity. Basically, this test was able to tell me which foods I’ve been eating have been causing an immune response in my stomach!

I had a high reaction to whole wheat, gluten and cranberries (seriously, wtf cranberries). A medium response to pears (again, wtf) and coffee – the no coffee has been crippling – and a low response to cow’s milk, rye, green olives, beets, sweet potatoes, cinnamon and pecans.  Some of this seems very random to me but for the most part, I’ve been working really hard to take these foods out of my diet. I’m going to try and follow the elimination diet more strictly over the next 4 weeks as I dive back into training for my 57 miler – so we’ll see how that goes.

Reducing inflammation in my stomach is a huge goal for me. When there’s a lot of inflammation there, my body doesn’t really absorb all the nutrients it needs to. I’m had low iron so many times I’ve lost count, but what’s more concerning to me (especially with all my running) is being able to absorb calcium/vitamin D to protect my bones. Anyone who is close to me knows I struggle with stress fractures and have been diagnosed with osteopenia in the past. I’d like to never worry about these things again.

Those are the big symptoms for me. While I do struggle with a few other issues, they have gotten better significantly since I first started treatment:

  • Trembling
  • Dizziness/balance issues
  • Eye floaters
  • numbness in my hands
  • random skin rashes


And I think that’s a wrap. Even though this is my case, I feel as if every story I read online about Lyme disease is different. And that’s why it’s so important for me to do my charity run in November to raise money for research and awareness. Some of the stories I read are absolutely heartbreaking – lives are forever changed. And these individuals are the ones who motivate me to run more than anything. The easiest way I’ve come to deal with the frustrations of lyme is through motivating myself to try and make a difference for those who have it so much worse than me, those who have struggled for so long just to find an answer.

I don’t view myself as sick anymore. Even though I have these outlasting symptoms, this is the strongest in a long time. My symptoms don’t define me because I know I will eventually conquer them. And more than ever, I want others to be able to conquer Lyme disease as well.

I guess my last note here is kinda a PSA you might not care to hear, but seriously, be aware of ticks when you’re outside this summer. They’re going to be bad this year and you can pick them up in your own backyard. Whenever I’m out running on trails I always stop and check myself after running through any overgrown paths, high grass, or wooded areas.  Your pets can pick them up too – I always remember finding ticks on my dog growing up, even though she was protected. Just be careful and protect yourself please!

Feel free to reach out to me if you ever have any questions about my journey with lyme. There’s a contact button on my homepage of the blog.

Thank you for reading – until next time!



North Face Endurance Challenge DC 50k: RACE RECAP

FINALLY – I’ve gotten around to writing my race recap for my first ever 50k at the North Face Endurance Challenge. As many of you know, I did not have a good lead up to the race. After my last 20 miler in my building phase, I developed perineal tendonitis in my right ankle. I had to take off for the remaining three weeks leading up to the race, except for a few attempted runs sprinkled in there. I went for a lot of walks (as long as they were not painful), started physical therapy, and I also ran on an underwater treadmill a few times to keep my legs moving.

Eventually race weekend approached and I needed to make the decision whether to attempt racing or not. I saw my orthopedic doctor the day before the race and he gave me the go ahead to race, as long as the pain didn’t keep getting worse as the miles piled on. So, the day before I made the decision to go pick up my race packet and give it a try.

Here’s how it all went down!


On Thursday night, Erin surprised me by flying in to see me race! I knew my mom was coming, but I had no idea Erin would be there until she walked through the door with Dave. It was a surprise for my mom as well, and we all had a really nice dinner before heading to bed early. I did a little bit of packing for race day but I was trying not to stress too much about what I was going to need. Race day promised to be hot and humid – it was supposed to get up to 92 degrees midday. I knew my hydration and nutrition plan needed to be on point.

After my doctor’s appointment, Erin, my mom and I went to the grocery to pick up last minute snacks for race day. Afterward, Erin and I went on a short and slow shake out jog for about 3-4 miles, and I was excited to not have any pain in my peroneal at all. We stretched for a bit and then headed to packet pick-up to get my bib.

On the way home we made a quick pit stop at the running store so I could buy my mom some new running shoes for her birthday (yay!) and I could grab some extra gus, even though I already had PLENTY. Once we got home it was around noon and Erin advised I stay off my feet for the rest of the day. So we all just snacked, watched TV and finished getting my race bags ready for tomorrow.

I drank PLENTY of water all throughout the day and made sure to include extra electrolytes for the hot forecast the next day.


My alarm went off at 3:45 AM, but I was already awake. Surprisingly, I felt more excited than nervous even though I had no idea how the day was going to go. I prepared all my tailwind mixtures (filled my 70 oz bladder in my Nathan race vest) and made an extra Nalgene full in case I needed it. I stuffed some ankle braces into the back of the pack in case I needed them out on the trail, got dressed and we were off for Algonkian Park!

I took a salt pill first thing after waking up and Erin told me I should plan to take another right before start and then every 45 minutes until I finished. The first time I ever took salt pills was during our ultra Ragnar relay and they helped me A LOT, so I completely trusted Erin’s plan. She’s an Ironman after all and has raced in 100+ degree heat, so I knew I was in good hands and felt so much more comforted having her at the race.

We got to the start a little earlier than I expected, but that’s okay – earlier is always better than late. Erin and I walked around a little bit to get my ankle warmed up and the sun rising over the Potomac was incredibly beautiful. Everything felt surreal. Even though I was unsure how far I was going to get/if I was going to finish, everyone else believed in me. I hardly felt nervous – just ready to get the day started.


As we neared start time, I got my vest situated on me, sprayed myself with bug spray and sunscreen and lined up. It was a 7 AM start, so the sun was still coming up and there was plenty of cloud coverage. I wore a hat anyways because I knew it was going to get sunny later and I didn’t want to forget to put one on during transition.

My start was slow. I had no idea what pace to go out at and I didn’t want to pull my peroneal from pushing it too fast. The race director let us know the path would single track early on, but I felt comfortable with the group surrounding me. My breathing felt very easy even though it was incredibly humid, and my ankle felt fine. I carried on with them for a few miles until the trail abruptly narrowed and I realized I should have gotten myself out much faster.

For a few miles I got myself stuck in this long line of runners with no ability to pass. It wasn’t until one of the first uphills when everyone started to walk was I able to speedwalk/jog past them. It was around these first hills where I could see all the runners ahead of me zig zagging up the next hill in the cover of the tall trees, and I felt this overwhelming sense of happiness. I was doing it!

Around 5-6 miles into the race I finally settled in to a pace comfortable for me. I have no idea what it actually was because the tree coverage definitely screwed with my Garmin, but it felt between 9:00-10:00 min/mile. At this point the trail was familiar to me from the many, many times I ran here before. It was pretty muddy but not unbearable and I was happy – I seriously couldn’t stop smiling.

Going out to Great Falls, the hills didn’t seem so bad. I power hiked most of them and because I had run them so many times before, I knew exactly what was coming next. When we detoured around Riverbend Park, we had to run alongside this road before hopping back into the woods. It was here, right around mile 11 that I hit a tree root hard and stumbled forward for a few violent steps before I caught myself with my hands on the ground. I didn’t fall all the way, but the jolt was hard on my bad knee/ankle. I started jogging tentatively after I brushed my hands off and was surprised there was no pain. I told myself not to think about it anymore and I carried on until I made it to Great Falls Park.

Mile 13 was the big aid station where Erin, Dave and my mom were allowed to wait with my bags and help me. From some of the slipping and sliding on the trail, my shoes were rubbing me the wrong way and I could feel blisters starting on the inside of my heels. Even though I had did all my trail runs in these shoes/socks, I decided to switch out of my shoes at the aid station and put on a brand new pair I just got the week before. They felt amazing. I decided it had to be my shoes giving me the problem and didn’t change my socks (IDIOT!). Other than the shoe change, I took a few more gus from Erin and hurried on my way. I still had PLENTY of tailwind in my Nathan even though I had been sipping it every mile and drinking with the gus/salt pills I took every 45 minutes. My quads were starting to feel a little fatigued but I knew I was going to feel it early, given I hadn’t run for 3 weeks prior.

around mile 18!

Miles 13-19 were several loops in Great Falls. It started off with a pretty big hill and I walked most of it, taking some time to hydrate and eat a Gu. My feet felt much better and I didn’t have rubbing on my heels anymore so I thought I was all set.  Around mile 17, I felt my perineal starting to hurt a little bit so I slowed it down. There were a lot of rocks on this part of the course so I focused instead on not turning my ankle instead of going fast.


Mile 19 put me right back at the big aid station and I stopped to eat a clementine, drink some tailwind and take a few more gus. I decided not to change my socks because I thought the problem was gone…and I really regret this. I was feeling pretty good mentally/physically – I was hydrating well, eating well and my legs felt as good as they could for not running 3 weeks beforehand. I said good bye to my fam and told them I’d see them back in Algonkian Park. The sun was fully out at this point and I was started to feel hot, so we squeezed some ice sponges on my quads, neck and back before I headed out.

making sure I have everything I need…wish I changed those damn socks!

Miles 19-31 were challenging. And it’s not just because of fatigue in my legs – honestly I didn’t feel NEARLY as bad as I thought I would – it’s because of the mud and blisters I developed. I think the two go hand in hand, honestly. The mud was SO BAD that I couldn’t run at all, let alone walk without almost wiping out. My blisters fully formed on the inside of my heels and it was so painful every time I took a step. I fantasized about taking my shoes off and running in my socks. But I kept my spirits up – kept smiling and told myself to just get to the next aid station.

At one point, probably around 25 miles, I felt this building sensation in my right heel and then it was FIRE. I think the blister popped. It hurt for the next 5 minutes or so but then the pain went completely away. About 20 minutes later the same happened on my right heel and even though it hurt like a bitch, it made the rest of the race so much more bearable. If it wasn’t so muddy, I think I could have made it through this part of the course 5x faster.

There were a few other runners around me and we were all so frustrated with the mud. I saw a lot of them wipe out, and then we would commiserate together with how shitty the course was left for us. It wasn’t until mile 28-29ish that we finally steered away from the flooded trail and got some better footing. But it took us out into the sun and it was BRUTAL. I didn’t realize how hot it actually was until I had the sun bearing down on me and I got frustrated I had to walk again from the heat, especially since I had finally got through the mud.

As we neared the finish, I didn’t even know how close I was until I was practically upon the end. In my head, I visualized having to run the same loop in the field next to the finish line that we made when we started in the AM. It wasn’t until I saw Erin and Dave and they let me know it was right around the corner, and then I got super excited.

When I made the turn and saw the finish line right there I had so many emotions. Excitement, pride, and gratefulness. I was so happy as I ran across that line and was handed my medal. Half of me couldn’t believe I was able to do it. I think the other half always knew I was going to make it to the end, given the tendonitis or not.

I tore my shoes off right at the end of the chute. It was instant relief. I have pretty calloused heels and it looks like all the slipping and sliding in the mud created friction against my heels and caused the inside to blister. I’ve never once gotten a blister on the inside there, even wearing the same sock and shoe combination on the same trail. Oh well.


After enjoying a much deserved beer, me and my fam headed home to relax for the rest of the day. I thought I was going to be crippled my tendonitis, but I was actually walking fine and the pain didn’t flare up like I feared. Actually, the worst part was when we got home and I sat down after my shower and my knees were throbbing constantly. After some icing of both my knees and ankle, Erin and I went for a little walk and it helped my legs feel a little better.

So, there you have it! It took a little longer than I would have liked to get this post up, but that’s how it always goes for me. These past two and a half weeks have been very easy going for me as I’m still dealing with a little bit of peroneal pain. I’ve started running up again, but it’s very slow and careful. I know it’s time to start ramping up my training again, but with the tendonitis still there in the shadows, I’m trying to incorporate more cross training in than usual. Hopefully it goes away soon!

Once my training is more consistent, I’ll definitely start some weekly training logs. My goal now is to get to my 57 mile run healthy and happy, so I can make the most of the day and make my donators proud!

As always, if you want more consistent updates on how my training is going, you can always follow me on Instagram @amd022.

All done – YAY!

Fighting Self Doubt

I haven’t updated in awhile. Not my weekly training updates, not a fundraiser update…NOTHING. And I’m feeling a little guilty about it. Because when I’m hurting I have a habit of shutting myself off from the world.

For the past three-four weeks I’ve been battling a sprained ankle/peroneal tendonitis. I felt the first twinges in my peroneal the week leading up to the Tennessee Ultra Ragnar, but during the race only felt twinges of pain during my first leg. After ragnar, I took an easy week and didn’t think anything of it. But as I began building the next week I noticed my peroneal was increasingly tight. After I did my last 20 miler out on the flooded trail, I could hardly walk the day after. It’s then I knew I was in trouble.

I took a week off. I didn’t do a damn thing except a few walks here and there and I could tell my peroneal was feeling much better. But when I went to run after a week of rest, the pain came right back. Once I finished my 10 miler on Good Friday I was in the same boat – I couldn’t walk right without pain. Immediately, I felt like a failure. I’ve been training for this 50k for so long, just to get injured in the final stage. So I shut down. I refused to leave the apartment all weekend except for work, and I disconnected from life. I had tunnel vision and I could only focus on how my 50k dreams were out the door.

This was about two weeks ago. and I’m doing much better. I started seeing a physical therapist, running on an underwater treadmill, and taking long walks to ease my anxiety and pent up energy. It’s hard to go from 50 miles a week to zero. But at some point between PT and waking up at the crack of dawn to run on the underwater treadmill, I started feeling better about my impeding 50k, even though my tendonitis still bothered me. I faced reality. My goal this year is my 57 miler in November – not the 50k, no matter how much I trained for it.

Once I stopped stressing, my body started recovering. The inflammation in my peroneal went down and I stopped having pain walking. This past week, after my last PT appointment, I made the decision to try and race. I went for a short jog on the treadmill and had no pain, so I decided I could at least start the race with the option of dropping out if the pain built up too much. I was nervous about toeing the line without any real training/running for three weeks prior, but I also trusted myself. As long as my peroneal didn’t hurt, I knew I could finish.

I’ll have a real race recap later on, but I made it and I am so happy! I couldn’t have done it without the constant support of my friends and family, and I can’t believe it’s already over. Once the race started, I was so excited to be out there running again nothing else mattered. I took in every little moment: the sunrise over the foggy Potomac, the determined forms of runners zig zagging up a steep hill before me, and the sound of my own breath breathing steadily in and out, in and out.

A little bit of ankle pain set in around mile 18 but I started incorporating more walking and the pain never got any worse. Honestly, the course was so muddy in the last 9 miles or so it was IMPOSSIBLE to run. Every person I saw who tried to run through on the trail wiped out in front of me, and I knew if I went down I’d probably have a real rough time getting back up and going with the pain. So I did some speed walking with super-duper short steps cursing the mud under my breath every time I felt my feet lose traction beneath me, causing my already-sore muscles to tense with the thought of falling down.

When the finish line was finally in sight, you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if you tried. I was excited and so happy to finish with relatively little peroneal pain. It was 92 degrees out (seriously, what the HELL was up with this weekend’s weather?!) and I still felt relatively fine hydration/nutrition wise. The most painful part of the day was the two blisters I formed on my heels in the last 10 miles – probably from the slipping in the mud and friction caused. No lie – my heels are STILL pulsating and I’ve never had this problem with my shoes/socks before.


So, now what? I saw my doctor the day before the 50k, and he checked my ankle/fibula for any stress fractures and I’m good. He recommended taking some down time after the race to let any inflammation in my peroneal to go down, and I’ll be starting more extensive PT tomorrow. I still have my eyes on my 57 mile charity run in November, and I’ll be starting training back up in June. This month, I’d like to get back into a routine of not only running, but cross training and strengthening CONSISTENTLY. If tendonitis has taught me anything, this diversity in my training is going to be vital. I’m also looking for a coach to help get me through this summer/fall healthy for my event. But I guess we’ll see. And of course (because I always say this), I’ll try to update my blog more regularly.

Look forward to my 50k race recap soon and once I begin training regularly again, I’ll try to post updates every week or so. For now, it’s rest and recover time. And believe me, my legs need it.


Weekly Recap: April 3 – April 9

(I wanted to add photos but something is wrong with my phone and I can’t get them off onto my computer!!!)

It’s been awhile! I know I haven’t done a weekly update in a while – I have been completely OUT OF TIME. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been pretty stressed out and not been feeling the greatest, so this plays into my silence. But here I am now, and I wish I had this lovely update to give you about how great things are going, but I’m not going to sugarcoat things – I’m hurting. I’ve been struggling with some peroneal tendonitis since Ragnar and I finally doomed myself in last week with my long run.

Taking some time off to help the inflammation go down and hopefully I’ll be running by Friday for my long run. Lot’s of icing, stretching and rolling on the schedule, along with any pain-free cross training.

Monday, April 3: I ran a lot earlier in the morning because of a doctor appointment I had later. The weather was pretty nice – it’s finally spring – and I was really enjoying myself EXCEPT for my ankle. I wouldn’t call it pain I was feeling, but something definitely didn’t feel right. Every step my ankle felt weak and like the little bones in my foot were moving or something. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that’s what it felt like. I felt like my foot needed a good crack to make sure everything was in place.

Other than the weird ankle/foot sensations, the run was great. I ran along the Mt. Vernon Trail and went about 7 miles. My legs felt pretty fresh considering the week before was a recovery week and mileage was super low.

7 road miles – 7:55 min/mile pace

Tuesday, April 4: Decided to take a rest day because of ANOTHER doctor appointment. My lyme doctor is about 45 minutes from where I live so by the time I drive out there, have the appointment and drive back, my morning is pretty much shot. I was feeling the tightness in my peroneal this morning so I decided the rest would be my best bet.

Doctor appointment went fine – had more bloodwork done. When I got home I had a little bit of time before work so I decided to go for a nice walk instead. I walked along the Potomac for 2.3 miles just listening to music and thinking things through. Definitely needed it before work.

Rest Day
2.3 mile walk

Wednesday, April 5: Workout day! I wasn’t as excited about my tempo workout as I usually am because of the ankle pain. I decided to suck it up and hit up the treadmill anyways though, thinking the tendon would loosen up as I ran.

Once I got going on the treadmill though and started pumping some jams I felt okay. The peroneal was definitely tight and ached for most of the run, but the pain was manageable. I ended up being able to complete my entire workout – 7 X 5 min repeats with 1 min recovery in between – with my speed portions being between 6:30-6:05 min/mile pace. I did my cool down outside and ended the day with over 10 miles.

15 min. w.u., 7X5 min up-tempo, 1 min recovery in-between – 8.3 miles, 6:53 min/mile
2.1 mile c.d. – 18:09 mins, 8:28 min/mile pace

Thursday, April 6: ANOTHER rest day. I didn’t intend on resting today, but once I got home from work I couldn’t get myself to go and cross train like I was supposed to. I definitely didn’t want to run because of my ankle and I was trying to get ready for the next day’s long run, but I couldn’t get my butt onto my bike. So I ended up laying on my couch not doing anything. Womp wompppppp.

Rest Day

Friday, April 7: LONG RUN. What an adventure this run ended up turning into once out on the trail. The day before it POURED and we had storms and crazy wind, and it really messed up the trail. When I was driving out to Great Falls Park, I noticed how swollen the Potomac was and I knew the trail was going to be an epic mess. The wind was still very bad and I started getting nervous about falling tree branches and such, but I forced myself to keep driving.

My ankle was pretty sore this morning, even though I took Thursday off. When I first started running my ankle almost gave out with my first step, and I knew it probably wasn’t a good omen. Once I got going on the trail and relaxed, the pain pretty much disappeared.

The trail was flooded in a lot of places and the thick mud made me turn my ankle a few times, unfortunately. There were A LOT of huge trees down and it made me so paranoid to have to run off the trail and around. For once, I forgot to spray myself with bug spray before I started and all I could think about were ticks! Every time I had to jump off trail or a branch brushed up against my side I stopped and checked myself for freaking ticks. So as you can imagine, I stopped a lot on this run.

I wasn’t able to make it out as far as I wanted on the heritage trail because of fallen trees so I turned back early and ran some trails in Great Falls I’ve never went out on before. They were so nice and even though I was tired as the miles racked up, I was having a freaking blast out there. I think this is the first run where my nutrition and hydration were on point. I was eating every 40 minutes and drinking my tailwind from my hydration vest and I actually felt pretty good.

By the time I was done with 20 miles I was definitely tired, but honestly, if I had to go further I knew I could. This was a good feeling to have, especially struggling with the tendonitis. I’ve never done two 20 mile runs (and a 36 mile ragnar) in one training cycle, so to finish this run up made me feel really good and confident.

As soon as I got home I stretched and iced my ankle and it felt pretty good. It wasn’t until I tried to get up from the couch a few hours later I realized how much pain my peroneal was in. Dave and I decided to walk to Crystal City to see a friend at the 5k Fridays and during the 1 mile walk I felt my peroneal loosen up again. Honestly, I thought I would be okay for my 10 miler the next day.

20.1 trail miles – 9:12 min/mile pace

Saturday, April 8: I woke up early for an event I was holding at the store, and immediately I knew I was in trouble. I woke up several times during the night and every time I moved around I could feel the pain in my peroneal. When I got out of bed the pain walking was intense, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to run. It immediately put me into a pisser.

It didn’t help when I went to drive to my event that my car wouldn’t start. I felt like everything was going wrong for me and immediately I felt myself shift into a negative attitude about everything. I was upset about my car, upset about going to work on my day off (even though I had volunteered) and upset my “training was going to shit.” It’s absolutely incredible what missing a run can do to someone who is used to running all the time.

After the event I went home and cleaned up around the apartment before getting a new battery in my car. I had plans that evening to go out with friends to the pub, but immediately I cancelled. I felt myself retreating into that dark place where I didn’t want to see or be near anyone. I was sure I ruined myself for my 50k I’ve been training forever for and I was so mad at myself.

Later in the afternoon I took myself to a massage appointment with great hopes it would be a fix-all. I told her about the tendonitis and she focused on that ankle for a lot of the appointment and HOLY CRAP DID IT HURT. I feel like my ankle is still a little bruised from her digging in there. But I was able to walk normally when I stood up after the appointment, and the pain was cut by about 70%. As much as I wanted to push it and try and run, I told myself no and rested on the couch for the rest of the evening.

I iced a lot, cooked up some veggie chili, and watched some documentaries until it was time for bed. I was still feeling pretty mad at myself about the tendonitis and for letting it affect my entire day, but I took some Advil, put on some anti-inflammatory cream and went to bed.

Sunday, April 9: I woke up ready to be in a better mood. I made myself coffee, relaxed and enjoyed myself before I had to go into work. Sometimes, I feel like it’s okay to have one of those days where you kinda wallow and feel angry at the world (as long as you don’t let it consume you and continue for a long time). What I felt Saturday was completely normal. It was frustration, anger, and sadness about my injury. And it’s ok. But I was ready to leave it behind.

I KNOW you can’t lose fitness by taking 1-2 weeks off. When people come to me for running advice, especially if they’re hurting with an injury, I preach this all. the. time., but it’s hard to take your own advice.

I believe in myself. I reminded myself to stop comparing my training to anybody else’s, because every person is different. I reminded myself I was able to complete both marathons I’ve done in the past off less than 30 mile/week mileage. I reminded myself just how strong I am physically and mentally – and I felt happy.

It was a beautiful day so I decided to ride my bike to work. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten in the saddle and I had so much fun riding to the store. It’s less than 3 miles so it was super quick, but it was enough to get those endorphins flowing. Work ended up being so busy I didn’t even have time to think about my tendonitis because I was running all over the place like a crazy person – definitely my workout for the day.

After I rode home I immediately ate dinner because I was unable to eat all day at work. Now that the days are longer, there was still some sunlight after I finished, so dave and I went for a little walk. We ended at the grocery store so I could pick up a few things for the week and when we got back to the apartment, I went down to the gym to see if any cross training didn’t hurt. I rowed for about 10 minutes (and felt great) but because there were a few twinges in the ankle I decided to stop. I hopped on the elliptical and that wasn’t great so I left and went back to the apartment to ice, roll and stretch.


THOUGHTS ON THE WEEK: Obviously not the mileage I wanted to hit this week. I’m about 13-14 miles short of what I wanted, but it’s okay. I’m in the final stretch here, and it’s about making it to the start line, not pushing myself through painful miles. I’m happy I got the 20 miler in even though I know I would have felt a little more confident having the 10 miler the day after as well. But I’ve already done that once in my training and I’ve only gotten stronger since then, so I think all will be okay.

I’m going to keep stretching, icing and rolling and hopefully I’ll be okay for 15 miles this Friday and maybe 7 or so on Saturday. I’m not going to push or force anything. Maybe this injury is an opportunity for me to get back into cross training/strengthening so I can better incorporate it into my 57 miler training this summer. It’s going to be so important!

I picked up some anti-inflammatory juices to try this week as well and I’m going to try and really clean up my diet. I’ve been eating a lot of processed crap and it’s not doing me any favors.


Ragnar Relay Tennessee Ultra Recap

Stucco Running Club Ultra Club at the start!

It’s time to talk about Ragnar! I had SO MUCH fun this past weekend in Tennessee with my team as we raced from Chattanooga to Nashville as an Ultra team. I struggled a little bit out there for sure, but with the help of my team I was able to make it through all my legs right around the pace I projected myself hitting.

My team, Stucco Running Club Ultra Club, took seventh overall in the race, and we were the first Ultra team across the line (we are technically ranked in the men’s ultra division because we had 4 men and only 2 women). So, let’s just jump into the dirty details of what went right and what went wrong.

Wednesday Night (Pre-flight)
I could not sleep for the life of me. Most of it was from excitement, but as the time passed by, I started to stress out from my lack of sleep. I didn’t really sleep well at all Monday or Tuesday night so I started thinking about how the lack of sleep was going to affect me. I ended up getting five hours, but it really wasn’t enough.

Thursday – Day Before Start
Dave and I woke up at 3:45 AM with two of our teammates who spent the night, to get to the airport for our 6:00 AM flight. I didn’t even feel tired because I was so excited, and I couldn’t sleep on the plane.

I think the first mistake of the weekend came today. My stomach was really upset this morning (maybe from taking all my medicine at 3:45 AM? Something I never do?) and I couldn’t eat breakfast. I managed a protein bar but it made me want to throw up for a good 2 hours. By the time we landed in Nashville I was so focused on having some coffee, I didn’t get anything else to eat. While we waited for Erin and our other teammate’s flight to land, Dave and I went to pick up our snazzy 15 person van from the rental place in Nashville.

pretty sunrise as we landed in Nashville

Once everyone landed we started our 2 hour drive down to Chattanooga. It was a really pretty drive as we went through some of the mountains, and then I realized we were going to be climbing right back through them the next day. It wasn’t until we neared Chatt and many hours later did I realize how hungry I was. Erin and I ate some pistachios while shopping for some race necessities in Walmart. Once we were done shopping we headed straight to the hotel to offload our stuff and immediately go out for lunch.

We ended up at a Panera and I had some tomato soup, salad, and potato chips. Honestly, not ideal the day before a race, but I told myself I would have a heartier dinner to make up for the lack of breakfast and lunch. We walked around the waterfront after lunch and Erin and I re-lived some Ironman memories from her race this past fall, and then we all tried to nap for a bit in the hotel. I only managed 15 minutes of sleeping in the hour I laid down.

We had team check-in at 6 PM, and I knew I wanted to squeeze a shake-out run in before we headed across the river. I hadn’t run since my massage on Wednesday, so I headed out the door with Erin and Jeremy for a veryyyyyyy slowwwww 2.5 mile shakeout. It was glorious. My legs felt amazing and it was such a beautiful evening for a run by the river. The shake-out made me feel confident and ready for the race the next day – my calves felt fine, my achilles were loosened up, and I didn’t really have much leg pain. I was so excited!

Chattanooga!!! ❤

The rest of the day consisted of the team check-in and dinner. Erin, Jeremy and I ended up going to Whole Foods because we figured it would be my best option to find gluten-free and dairy-free options, but because it was later in the evening they didn’t have much out on their hot bar.  Even though the food I ate was really good, I knew it wasn’t enough. I should have gotten more, but because I wasn’t really hungry I just brushed it off and went back to the hotel to sleep.


Woke up around 8 AM after not a great night of sleep. It took me a super long time to fall asleep because of surrounding noises, and I forgot I had my ear plugs until 1 hour later into trying to fall asleep without them. Erin and Jeremy went down to breakfast and I stayed in bed, and actually managed another hour of undisturbed sleep before rolling out of bed to catch the free breakfast.

There wasn’t anything for me to eat at breakfast. I had a little box of Frosted Flakes and a banana, but nothing else offered was gluten free. I meant to make myself some gluten free bread with peanut butter when I got back to the hotel room, but I completely forgot while getting ready because we left all of our food in the car overnight.

We headed over to the race start around 11 AM-ish because we needed to check out of our hotel. Our start time wasn’t until the last wave, 2 PM, so we still had plenty of time to wait. Erin and I ran a few last-minute errands to pick up some needed van items, but most of the time we just sat around waiting for 2 pm. We did decorate our van during this time and it came out awesome!

FINALLY, 2 PM rolled around and our team was able to start. I was #4 in the line-up of six runners, so I still had a few hours until my first leg.

3:34 PM – LEG #1 (10.2ish miles, 1119 ft gain) – I was incredibly nervous for my first leg. It was my hardest by far, and I was nervous about how I would feel climbing up the mountain. When Justin handed off the bracelet to me, I flew out of the transition area way too fast. I wanted to go around 8:30 min/mile pace, but whenever I looked down at my watch during the first two miles I was between 7:20-7:45 min/mile pace. I tried to keep myself under control but my adrenaline was still pumping. We had to run on the “shoulder” of this big road, but the shoulder was so small (and the rumble strips took up most of it) it was incredibly unnerving to run, especially when huge 18-wheelers flew down the mountain past me.


I have to say running along this shoulder was probably my least favorite part of the race because of how dangerous it felt. I had one dog come after me, and after I wasted my energy screaming at it as I trucked up the mountain, it decided to stay on its lawn and not keep coming after me.

Around five miles (still climbing) I decided to try and fuel, but realized my stomach still felt way too uneasy to eat my Gu. Luckily, I brought cliff blocks as well and I forced myself to eat two of those. I was also sipping Tailwind (MY SAVIOR) so I felt pretty confident I’d be able to get through the rest of the leg without bonking.

I walked three times trying to make it to the top of the mountain, but it was planned and I felt very much in control. When I finally reached the top and saw the downhill road before me, it was such a glorious feeling even though I still had 4 miles to go. As I ran down I felt like I was flying and everything was effortless. I forgot about my stomach, and all I felt was happiness. Despite the road being treacherous, it was an absolutely gorgeous run along the river and it made me feel so grateful to be in Tennessee with my friends.

When I finished, they handed me a medal for running the “hardest” leg of the race. We hopped in the van shortly after I finished, so we could beat our runner to the next transition and I was feeling pretty good. I chugged a gatorade as I sat in the van, and slowly I felt my stomach pain returning. I tried to eat a picky bar but I ended up only nibbling at the corners because I suddenly felt so sick.

I don’t know what set off the stomach pain, but as soon as I discovered I couldn’t eat, I knew I was in trouble. I started sipping my Tailwind mixture as much as I could – liquid calories are better than no calories. I laid down in the back of the van while my teammates kept forging ahead, and before I knew it, my turn was coming up again. So I filled my water bottle with my tailwind, got all my reflective gear together and tried to mentally prep for my second leg.

7:36 PM – LEG #2 (6.8ish miles)

When I stood outside the van waiting for my next leg, I didn’t feel as bad as when I was just laying in the stuffy van. The fresh air was really nice and there was a little bit of a chill in the air, so I put my arm warmers on because I was shivering a lot. I tried not to psych myself out about my stomach as I waited for Justin to come into transition and I tried to stay positive.

As I started out, I didn’t feel too bad. Again, I was dealing with an annoyingly-small shoulder and rumble strips, but because the road wasn’t as busy I could run a little bit into the road without fearing for my life. I told my team to meet me about 2ish miles up the road in case I was feeling incredibly horrible and around 2 miles I could see our van parked on the side of the road at a pull-off. I ripped my arm sleeves off as I came to them and asked Dave again to stop a mile or so up the road because I wasn’t feeling great.

The course was rolling – very manageable after my first leg. It wasn’t long before I saw the van up ahead again and Dave and Erin crossed the street to make sure I was okay. When Dave said, “see you at the finish” I had a panic moment. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like I was going to be able to make it to the transition, even though I only had about 3.5 miles to go. Because it was “nighttime hours” and we are allowed to have pacers in the night, I asked Dave to jump in and run with me to the transition. I kept running as he bolted back to the van to get ready and I thought the van was just going to leapfrog me and drop Dave off in front of me. I had NO IDEA he actually just grabbed reflective gear and started chasing after me – not until I heard him yell behind me. I stopped and waited and we continued on together.

Talking with Dave through the next few miles was helpful for my mind. I was feeling stressed because of how competitive my teammates were with the other ultra teams, and I felt like I was going to ruin everything by not feeling well. Running with Dave reminded me this was supposed to be fun, and I felt a little better by the time I finished. I tried making myself a peanut butter gluten free sandwich after my second leg, but I only managed to eat half of it before feeling sick again. So I continued downing my tail wind and tried to lay down anytime the van was moving, and get up at each transition for fresh air and to stretch my legs.

10:59 PM – LEG #3 (6.1 miles)

Because I was still having problems eating, I was very concerned with this leg in the middle of the night. I hadn’t slept, and I was nervous about the 6 miles all by myself. There weren’t many other runners around, and Dave decided to run with me for the first 3 miles. I’m happy he was there because we were in the middle of no where and I didn’t see one other runner on the road. At this point, my stomach felt like one gigantic knot and I know it’s because of how empty it was with the lack of food and plenty of miles. Other than the stomach pain, my legs felt fine though, so I kept plodding along at my target pace.

Around 3 miles, Dave peeled off and hopped back in our van and I continued on alone. The last 3 miles weren’t bad at all, they were actually very beautiful. I could finally see some other runners ahead of me and we were running through farmland, and a big beautiful sky of stars stretched out above us. This was one of my favorite parts of Ragnar.

When I finished, I felt relieved because I only had a 2.5 mile leg next and I was halfway done. I hung out with Erin until she was off on her leg and then I tried to sleep. Joke’s on me because I couldn’t fall asleep once, but laying down and closing my eyes was nice at least. I managed to eat a Huma Gu during this time as well and a few more cliff blocks.

3:00 AM – LEG #4 (3.8 Miles)

Ha, yes – I know I said above my next leg was only going to be 2.5 miles. THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT, but I was wrong. Turns out, we looked at the legs wrong, and my 2.5 mile leg wasn’t until Leg 6, and I had 3.8 miles as my Leg #4, and then close to 7 miles for my Leg #5. Internally, I was having a breakdown, but I decided to pull myself together because 4 miles would feel like nothing after my longer legs. I pushed the 7 mile leg out of my mind.

As I got ready for Leg #4, I actually didn’t feel so bad. I knew I had been hydrating well despite not being able to eat much, and Erin and I joked around before my start, making me feel immensely better. I managed to eat a few handfuls of potato chips as well while we waited for Justin to come through, and this made me feel a little more confident. I brought my water bottle full of Tailwind with me even for the 4 miles because of my lack of eating, and I figured if I could keep sipping the stuff throughout the event I would be okay.

The 3.8 miles went by really fast. It wasn’t a particularly beautiful leg or anything, and there were a few good hills in there, but I felt good other than the stomach tightness. I actually passed a few runners on this leg and this made me feel even more confident. The transition area popped up on me in no time, and I was incredibly happy I made it through this leg on my own and without breaking down.

I stretched for a little bit, tried to sleep again, and watched the sun start to rise over the beautiful farmland. Even without sleep I felt calm during this time.

6:39 AM – Leg #5 (6.8 miles)

Now that I had to actually think about running almost 7 miles, I had a little freak-out. I was so worried how I was going to get through the leg because I wasn’t stomaching any real food. When I got out of the van at my exchange and started to get ready, Dave could tell I was upset. Because it was still before 7:15 AM (when nighttime hours are officially over) he promised to run a little bit with me because I was feeling so sick.

I had on my new lyme don’t kill my vibe tank top, but I couldn’t help thinking my lyme was destroying me during this race. I wanted so badly to be strong, but I felt like my body had crumpled under the stress of the race. I wasn’t able to take any of my medicine in the van, and the times I thought I might be able to, I decided against it incase they upset my stomach again. I was in some sort of state.

I started this leg nice and slow and tried not to think about how far I had to go. The sun was rising and it was finally getting light out again, and as I turned a corner onto a country road, an entire field of purple clover was illuminated with new light. It was so beautiful and serene, it made me forget about my stomach for a few minutes and feel lucky to be running. Running has allowed me to see some of the most beautiful scenery.

Dave met me about 2 miles down the road and talked with me as we walk/ran some of the bigger hills. About 3/4 of the way through the leg, my entire body began to ache. My neck and shoulders tightened up so much I could barely move, and the pain caused me to walk several more times. I wasn’t sure if I was herxing from the stress on my body or my muscles were just tense from the mileage, but I got a little worried here.

I was so happy to see the exchange at the end of this leg. When I passed off the bracelet, my neck was so stiff and painful it made me completely forget about my stomach. I laid down in the van for a little bit until the pain subsided and after an hour or so, it was pretty much back to normal.

Tennessee countryside 

11:13 AM – Leg #6 (2.3 miles)

Finally! My 2 mile leg! Once I was done with Leg #5, I knew I would get through my last exchange, no matter how my stomach was feeling. My mood substantially lifted after finishing #5, and I was even able to eat another GU, take in a few cliff shots, and some potato chips. I kept drinking my Tailwind because I knew it was my main source of energy and I am so grateful for the stuff and actually thinking to bring it!

It was a lot warmer out for this final leg and there was absolutely no shade. I was feeling a little competitive with the other ultra team as I waited for Justin to come in, and I decided I would not let them pass me in the two miles – no matter what.

I went out much faster than I did for any of my other legs, except maybe leg 1. There was a decent hill about .5 miles in and as much as I wanted to walk up it, I thought about the other team catching me and I leaned in and powered through. The downhill was fantastic, but at the bottom was a major road where a police officer was supposed to help me cross to the other side so I could run against traffic. Mr. Police Officer was NO HELP at all, and I stood around on the corner of the street for a few minutes trying to make the pass myself. As I looked from left to right, from right to left, for an opportunity to cross, I kept thinking about the other ultra team coming over the hill to catch me.

When I finally got across the road I looked back at the hill for our competition but luckily no one was in sight. It was a straight shot to my finish from here and I pushed it to the exchange trying to keep a good distance on them.

It felt so amazing to pass the bracelet off for the last time in my exchange. Part of me was in disbelief I actually made it through the 36 miles, especially because I felt so horrible after only leg #1. But I was so happy to be done and to cross my final leg off, and even though my stomach was still hurting and I couldn’t eat yet, I was in a much better mood.


Erin was our final leg. It was a much-too-long 8 mile leg to the finish line, and I felt so antsy waiting for her in front of the Country Music Hall of Fame. Before the final exchange, the other men’s ultra team was telling Erin how they were only 3 minutes behind us, and we’re pretty sure they were trying to psych Erin out. But the joke’s on them because Erin could have cared less what they said to her, and they ended up being about 30 minutes behind us, not 3.

Seeing Erin turn the final corner to the finish was so exciting. We all ran across the finish line with her and finished as the first ultra team of the race, and 7th team overall. Our time is listed as 23:30:41.1 on Ragnar’s website, but I’m pretty sure you have to add an hour to all the finishing times listed on the site because of a time zone we ran through, or something like that.


As sick as I felt for the most part, I would absolutely do another ultra ragnar relay. I had so much fun with my team and it was incredibly motivating to work together and to stay strong for one another. My stomach is STILL a little messed up from this weekend but I’m working on feeling better, and my legs aren’t feeling too bad either.

Next time, I know I need to get much better sleep before the event and really fine-tune a nutrition plan. I think I didn’t get enough calories in before the race, and I CERTAINLY did not get enough in during the race. I know now how difficult it actually is, and I think resting up a lot more before the race will help me feel more primed.

But I’m so happy we did it (and did well), and it’s still all I can think about. Some of my teammates and I are already planning to do another next year :).

And that’s about it. I probably won’t do a training update for this week because it’s just a recovery week and honestly I’m not doing much. I want my legs to recover as much as possible for next week’s long run, so I’ve only ran yesterday and will probably only run a few more times this weekend. I plan to go for a nice long walk today to shake out my legs some more, and that’s about it. If my legs are still feeling fatigued by the end of this week, I might go ahead and get a massage early next week so I’m all ready for my 20-22 miler.