Guest Blogger- Theresa

I met Theresa July 4th of this year. I had that 10k in Hilliard with Jackie and was going for a PR. I just remember being inside the YMCA and noticing this chick staring us down. At the starting line, I noticed she was beside us. I was getting ready to say "HI" when she said to me "Are you under 40?!" At first, I thought she was asking if my goal time was under 40 minutes...I started cracking up in my head thinking about what it would feel like to run that fast! What she was really asking is if I was under 40 years old because she wanted to win her age group!! Ha! We laughed a bit and decided the three of us would help each other out. You can read about our adventure in the link posted above.

Anyway, I have seriously enjoyed this girl ever since I met her. Prior to us meeting, she ran solo. All it took was three group runs for her to ditch the ear buds and join in on the adventure! I'm so blessed to have met Theresa. She exudes such positivity. I can't wait for you guys to read her story! Below is straight from the head of Theresa...no edits. ENJOY!!!

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When I look at my life today, it is near picture perfect.  Wonderful husband, 4 beautiful children, quaint home in Muirfield Village, good job with cool places to travel, avid runner.  Those are surface things.  Important, but those aren’t ME.  They are “my resume” if you will.  The Me today is emotionally healthy (for the most part; at least in comparison to past), physically healthy and spiritually healthy.  This story is not about all the turmoil in my life, heck… we all have a past.  This story is about running.  What it was like in the beginning, the journey and what it is like now.  Running is the focus in many ways.  It changed my life.  

I have always been a perfectionist and an over achiever; maybe it was being an only child with very educated well-off parents who wanted the best for their child.  In college I had to triple major (hard majors too).  In grad school I wanted to get two masters at the same time.  Why?  Because people thought I couldn’t do it.  “Impossible”.  From an early age I was destined to prove people wrong.  Out of grad school I had to take that high stress, high pay job (because I was the FIRST to ever get THAT job at THAT age), get married and settle down to have kids.  I HAD ARRIVED.  Um, no I hadn’t.  I was lost.  I was insecure.  I lived my life trying to prove myself to others, compare to others, want more more MORE and never be satisfied.  I was soul sick.  I was alone in a room full of people.    

This void turned toxic; I tried to fill the void with anything from work to alcohol to then anorexia and bulimia.  The only time from ages 25-37 that I can think of that I did not completely abuse my body was during pregnancy; I would go from 120 pounds to 227 and back again; pregnancy was a reprieve from my eating disorders and using alcohol to numb my mind and obsession with control.

Eventually, this void became apparent and at 35, my world shattered.  I got a divorce with a 5yo and a 3yo; the youngest still in a diaper.  I was already void, but I still had my STATUS.  My “hey look at ME status”.  I had plenty of money, I had an awesome career!  3 weeks after my divorce was final, I lost my job.  My income was gone.  POOF.  No alimony, no child support, no job, no soul, no husband and no babies 50% of the time.  Did this make me change?  Hahahaha…. NO.  From bad to WORSE.  I never ate; I think I ate pickles once a week.  I would then feel guilty and not deserving of pickles (PICKLES!) and then make myself throw them up.  

FIFTEEN YEARS of my life was a struggle with anorexia, bulimia and drinking too much.  I decided enough was enough.  I had nothing left to lose…. I’m going to start working out again.  I went to the gym, got on the treadmill and ran.  I couldn’t run 1/10th of a mile at a 10 minute mile pace.  So much for THAT!  It pissed me off, so I signed up for the Air Force Marathon in 2013.  I started eating a little bit more, purged a little less, COMPLETELY stopped drinking to train and trained 3 days a week; one day 3 miles, another 6 miles and then a long run on the weekend.  I think my AirForce Time was 4:25 or something (remember, I get lost and also forget PR times, so don’t hold me to that).  The next moth I ran the Columbus… I don’t remember the time, but it was the mid 4’s.  I was hooked.  I didn’t have fast times because at mile 17 or so, I’d poop out; I remember feeling guilty about ingesting a Goo because it had 100 calories.  Gatorade during stops?  NO WAY.  Useless calories.  I was getting better with my issues, but it was a slow process.

After those marathons in the fall of 2013, everything changed.  I wish I could tell you what changed… WHY I changed.  Was it because I met the man who loved me for me and wanted to marry me and make me a mom of FOUR?  Was it because I got a great job again?  Was it because I started going to my Catholic Church frequently and prayed HARD for guidance and to let Him show me the proper path in life?  I don’t know.  Again, this is about RUNNING.  Since 2013 I have done 43 races; anything from a 5k to full marathons.  Is it an obsession?  Mmmmm, maybe.  To me, it is living LIFE.  It is getting up in the morning full of ENERGY, running my heart out, thanking God the whole time for giving me my body back after over a decade of abuse.  After my run, my head is clear.  See, running gives me what no human can.  It gives me gratitude, humility, sense of power, clarity, serenity, peace, hurt, pain…. EVERY EMOTION that I either ran FROM or TOWARD.  It teaches me BALANCE and to REST.  I can go to work with a clear head and do my job and do it well.  After work I can be a good mom to 4 awesome kids and a good wife to a husband that I adore.  And then…. I get up and do it all over again.  It taught me to be flexible; it rains sometimes or snows:  HAVE A BACKUP PLAN.  I travel frequently for work:  HAVE A PLAN TO RUN WHEN TRAVELING.  Kids get sick:  RUN WHEN THEY ARE WITH ANOTHER PARENT AND HEALTH IS STABLE.  

How did I improve?  FIRST THINGS FIRST:  My mind is different.  Running is 90 percent mental you know…. If your mind isn’t right, your run won’t be either.  Now, I don’t know if running improves your MIND or if your MIND improves your RUNNING.  That’s something that just blew my mind while typing.  Is it the chicken or the egg???   

How I improved running:

• I treat running like a Board Meeting or Important Kid Activity
• There is no excuse not to run unless you or a loved one is sick.  Period.  Not enough sleep?  Get your life balanced.  You need to sleep.  Learn to ask for HELP (hard for us runner types, isn’t it???? We LOVE to DO IT ALL and then hold all the cards for our employer or family with LOOK AT ALL THAT I DO!!!!).  
• Always have another race on the books.  I race twice a month on average.  Not all marathons obviously, but I love the structure of training for a race.  It holds me accountable.
• DO NOT BE JEALOUS.  I was HORRIBLE at this.  I was jealous of EVERYONE for ANYTHING.  I’m not anymore.  If someone does well, I talk to them afterwards and ask them how they train and I am HAPPY FOR THEM.  This goes back to humility and gratitude.  Be grateful you crossed the darn FINISH LINE!  Some people are in wheel-chairs for crying out loud.
• I Can’t doesn’t exist in my vocabulary… EVER.  I can’t YET does.  I can’t run a 3:30 marathon….. YET.  I plan to on 11/1, but as of now, I BQ’d at the Pig last May at a 3:42 which is my PR.  I can’t run a sub 20 5k YET.  I plan to though on 9/5.  Two years ago I was THRILLED with a sub 30.
• Be competitive, but with YOU.  One of my favorite sayings is this:  “I WILL BEAT HER.  I will train harder.  I will eat cleaner.  I know her weaknesses.  I know her strengths.  I’ve lost to her before, but not this time.  She is going DOWN.  I have the advantage because I know my opponent well.  MY OPPONENT IS THE OLD ME.”

I am not gifted.  I have no running talent.  What I have is willpower; that same willpower that I used to NOT eat, to be a WORKAHOLIC and lose my family…. That same willpower is there.  God just redirected that will to running.  Running made me balance LIFE.  LIFE.  Isn’t that what running is about anyway?  LIVING LIFE.  

Marion's "Spectacular Disaster" a.k.a. Her First Marathon

My dear friend, Marion. This girl cracks me up. While many only share the good stuff, she is bold enough to tell you the bad and the ugly. She ran her first full marathon last month and lived to tell the story. Here it is in her words:

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You’ll Always Remember your First….

That’s what everyone says about your first marathon.  It’s special.  No matter what happens, it will always hold a place in your heart.  Well, friends…I’m here to tell you that NO.  There is no way that the 2015 Cleveland Marathon will ever hold a special place in this girls’ heart.  The words I used to describe this marathon are “Spectacular Disaster”.  That sums it up for me in a nutshell.

I went into the marathon feeling very prepared.  I didn’t put in nearly as many miles as my training partners, but I did my due diligence.  I started training in mid January for the marathon on May 17th.  Most of my training weeks ranged between 35 & 40 miles and I peaked at almost 50.  I loosely followed the Hal Higdon Novice 2 plan, and added more miles and a few speed workouts.  I ran two half marathons while in training.  One was my PR (1:46:32…in wind and 17 degrees!), and the other I ran with my friend Laura. (not a PR, but lots of fun!)  I did two 20 milers during my training, one with my favorite running friends, and the other solo.  Both went very well, 8:40 average pace at conversational effort.

When I arrived in Cleveland on May 16th I was ready.  

My husband and I dropped the girls and dogs off at my parents and made our way downtown.  We were staying literally a block from the start line.  We hit the expo to pick up my race packet, had a bland (for me) dinner, and just watched TV.  I ended up turning the TV off around 10:15 or so.  I had a definite “night before a race” sleep, but when I got out of bed at 4:30 I felt pretty good.  I had time to drink a little coffee, eat a piece of bread with PB and a banana, and let my system “clear out”.  I was excited.  I was ready.  I was not nervous, but was a little worried about the humidity.  My shakeout run the previous morning felt harder than I would have preferred.   I shrugged off those feelings and kept myself feeling positive.  I was about to complete my first marathon.  Let’s do this!

Kevin and I headed over to the start area at 6:30 (7 AM race start).  We waited around for a little bit, I took a gel, and then decided I HAD to pee one last time (of course!).  The porta-potty lines were epic, so Kevin suggested I just run back to the room and use the toilet there, so I did (and got a bonus warm-up!)   As we were walking back to the corrals at 6:50, it started downpouring.  Luckily, it only lasted a couple minutes, but it made me happy I decided to wear a visor.  I never wear them, but figured it would probably be useful since both rain and sun were predicted that day.  At race start it was about 70 degrees and between 85-90% humidity.

I weaved my way through the crowds and found the 3:55 pace group.  My plan was just to stick with them as long as I could, and possibly pull forward the last couple miles if I felt good.  After consulting with everyone that knows me and my abilities, we all trusted that 3:55 was an achievable, conservative goal.  I backed off of my original plan of joining either the 3:40 or 3:45 group because of the predicted weather.

I popped my headphones in, my Garmin finally found satellite, the gun sounded, and we were off.  Yay!  I was pumped.  The first couple miles I felt pretty good.  Even the bridge wasn’t terrible.  I was hitting each water stop and drank at least half the cup full, if not more.  Since it was so warm and humid, I knew I had to keep myself hydrated.  If I got separated from the group at the water stop, I would slowly catch back up.  I wanted to conserve all the energy possible, so no sprinting was allowed.  The group wasn’t a chatty group.  We were just all kind of running together and following the bobbing 3:55 sign.  I was hoping for a little camaraderie, but no biggie.  I was glad I at least brought my headphones.  We were running along clicking off miles.  Our pace group leader was keeping us a little ahead of the 8:58/mile pace, which was fine with me.  I felt good.  The first 6 were 8:40, 8:40, 8:48, 8:49, 8:47, 8:41.

I started feeling twinges of upper stomach cramping around mile 7.  Anyone who knows me knows my constant battle with lower GI issues.  For now this was still all good.  I crossed my fingers the bowels would stay in check.  Mile 7  - 8:59.  

During mile 8 we passed the first aid station with gels.  I did training with the gels they used on the course (Carb BOOM!), so I grabbed one.  I pulled off to the side so I could take my gel and chase it with water.  I started going again.  The 3:55 group was still in my sights, but it was getting harder to slowly reconnect with them.  Mile 8 – 8:52.

At the start of mile 9, my stomach cramping started getting more persistent.  Along with that, I had the addition of side stitches.  What in the ****?  I rarely get side stitches any more.  I grabbed onto my side while running to try and make it stop.  I was also losing the pace group.  Mile 9 – 9:27.  Uh oh….

Miles 10-13.1 were rough.  I had to stop and walk for short spurts several times because of the cramping.  I could not completely straighten up, which is a problem when you’re running.  I could feel my goals just slipping away.  I believe it was during this time I got passed by the 4:00 pace group.  Ego BLOWN.  Somehow I managed to keep going and just tried to keep my focus on finishing.  There were a lot of people walking throughout the course, so at least I knew I was not alone.  Miles 10-12: 10:11, 9:53, 10:56.  

I crossed the half mat at 2:04 and some change.  I was devastated.  My first half marathon was 10 minutes faster than that, and I know (knew?) that I was a better runner than this.  Just as I was about to get really down on myself, I saw my friends Lisa and Jackie yelling for me.  I looked up and smiled and then gave them the big thumbs down sign.  Seeing them rejuvenated me for about half a mile.

 

I saw my husband, parents, girls, and cousins at the 14 mile marker.  Kevin had my bottle of water/Gatorade mix ready for me and handed it off.  I just gave him a fake smile and kept trucking along.  Mile 13: 10:43.

 

Miles 14 and 15 were even worse.  11:20 and 12:37, respectively.  During mile 15 I tried to employ an interval method.  Run 4 minutes, walk 2.  I did one cycle of this, and realized I could not get running again.  When I hit the 16 mile marker I was in pain.  My stomach hurt so bad.  I was nauseous, cramping and was not sweating.  I pulled out my phone and sent Kevin a text that just said “I hurt”.  He wrote back and said “Don’t give up!  Walk if you need to!  You’ve got this!”.  So, on I trudged.  Although, I will admit, if I had passed a medical tent then, I would have dropped.  I was done.

We went down to Rocky River and hit the turnaround point between 17 & 18 miles.  I was still trying to jog once in a while around then, but wouldn’t last long.  I also kept pulling off to the side to bend over and relieve the cramping.  I just wanted to lay down in the grass and sleep.  But somehow I kept going.  I crossed the 30K (18.6 mile) mat at 3:25.  This was a DISASTER.  

When I was between mile 19 and 20 I looked up to see Kevin walking down the sidewalk towards me.  

 

Stopping to chat with the fam.  Yes. DURING a race!

I was in major pain, but so happy to see him.  He asked me if I wanted to finish.  I said “yes”.   Then he replied, “let’s go”.  Yes, my husband wearing his khaki shorts, crappy running shoes and C-Bus shirt finished the marathon with me.  I stopped several times to sit down and try to relieve the cramping in my stomach.  I was still drinking water, but had not had another gel since mile 8. I knew if I tried it would automatically make a return appearance.  I did give Kevin one of my gels because he was starving.  Having never had one before, he was like “this tastes like an orange loogie!”  Gross, Kevin.  Gross.  

 

(I made him run for the camera!)

The 5:25 pacers passed us and were nice enough to stop and check on me.  One of them gave me a few salt packets.  I took one and it really did seem to help.  I was able to make it from about 24 miles to the end without stopping due to stomach cramps.

When I saw the mile 26 flag waving in the distance I just looked at Kevin and said “I’m gonna go”.  He waved me on, and I took off.  I started sprinting coming down a hill, under an overpass, and there it was.  The elusive finish line.  It seemed like it was light years away, but I was determined to finish strong.  I heard my name being yelled, and looked over to see Lisa and Jackie running down the sideline with me.  I saw my parents and the girls yelling as well.  The announcer was saying my name and saying I looked strong (HA!)   I crossed that line at 5:48:32.  

 

I was elated and crushed at the same time.  I thought I would finish 2 hours before this.  TWO HOURS.  How does this even happen?

 

Things I took away from this experience:

1. I do have the best husband ever.  The poor guy ended up walking 15 miles that day!  His knee was hating on him. My parents were fantastic as always.  They took care of the girls and the dogs and stuck out a LONG marathon with two 4 year olds.  They’re awesome and brave!
2. I also have the best running friends.  Lisa and Jackie were calling, texting, and even checking in with medical on me.  (I didn’t look at my phone until after I finished, sorry girls!).  I thought for sure they would have left, and I would not have blamed them at all!  But they didn’t.  So, thank you so much for sticking it out until the bitter BITTER end with me!
3. I was not the only one having issues this race.  There were a ton of people who dropped.  The medical tents were packed every time I would pass one.  I saw several ambulances, and people were puking everywhere.  I wish I was exaggerating.  The conditions were brutal.  
4. I am pretty sure I will never do another spring marathon (except if by some miracle at some point I end up qualifying for Boston).  Training in a brutal winter, and then trying to run in heat and 90%+ humidity did not work for this girl.  Which brings me to my next point….
5. Yes.  I will do another marathon.  I put in too many hours, 4AM wake ups, miles, and time away from family to have this end up as my sole marathon experience.  I need to know what I am really capable of, and this sure wasn’t it.

I took 4 days off of running after that and have been easing back in.  I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m determined to keep trucking and one day reach those goals that I know I’m capable of.  

 

 

Marcie: Coping With Injury Via the Five Stages of Grief

I decided to start featuring guest bloggers and Marcie is my first! You guys, this is a great story of Marcie's innermost feelings about her recent injury. Please keep in mind how brave it is of her to share her story and to be vulnerable about something that feels so personal.

 

Most of us are familiar with the stages of grief. Marcie chose to tell us about her recent injury through these different stages. Even if you aren't an athlete, you can relate to this in some form.

 

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In the words of Marcie:

 

Most of us have heard of the stages of grief, which many go through when they experience the loss of a loved on.  I recently read an article which highlighted the five stages of grief that a runner goes through when injured.  http://www.active.com/running/articles/how-to-cope-with-the-5-stages-of-injury-grief The article resonated greatly with me, as I am just coming off of a seven-week hiatus from running due to a stress fracture. 

Stage 1: Denial

Many runners can feel an injury coming on.  We all have tweaks and little things that bother us, but typically we just run through them, icing and foam rolling as needed.  I’m very in tune with my body, and I can honestly say I did not feel a thing prior to that fateful morning when I literally had to stop dead in the middle of a 7-mile tempo run.  I knew it definitely wasn’t a good thing that I’d had to stop, but after a few minutes of sitting on the sidewalk with my friend Allison massaging my calf and my other friends looking on worriedly, I figured I’d be fine to finish up the run.  After all, we only had about 1.5 more miles, and the last mile of that was going to be a cool down.

Not so much… after a step or two, I realized that there was no way I was going to run back to our cars.  In fact, I couldn’t even walk.  Thankfully, my friends went to get a car to pick me up, and Dani stayed with me as I unsuccessfully attempted to limp back.  All the while, a little clock started to tick in my head.  Tick-tock, tick-tock, your marathon is in 27 days, Marcie… I refused to let the clock bother me, though.  I just knew I’d be able to run. I mean, I’d trained all winter for this race; there was no way that I’d have to sit it out.

I saw a doctor (not my normal sports med doc, but another in the same practice) that day, and was told all was good—just a little tendonitis.  Rest a couple of days, you’ll be back on the road by the weekend.  I allowed his words to push me deeper into denial.  I was going to run the Glass City Marathon on April 26.  I was going to BQ.  It’s all good, I convinced myself, even as that little voice in the back of my head started to argue with me that maybe it WASN’T all good. I plugged my ears to the voice and the clock ticking away, and stayed focused on forgetting about the fact that I couldn’t even put weight on my leg over 36 hours after the injury occurred.

Stage 2: Anger

From the article: “’I was like, Why is this happening to me before the biggest race of my life?’ Frey says. It's this sense of injustice that triggers anger. ‘You feel betrayed by your body, your training, the universe,’ Taylor says.”   

THIS. I felt sooooo mad at the world!  Like, why ME?!!  I did everything right this time!  I only did speed work once a week. I did all of my long runs at a 9:00+/mile.  I ran easy when I was supposed to.  I did cross training (BodyPump) and core work weekly.  And I only ran four days a week.  So, again, why ME?!!  This was going to be my race… my BQ.  I’d proven at my half marathon just a couple of weeks earlier (I’d ran a 1:40, which was a 9 minute PR) that I had it in me to go at least a sub 3:40, if not faster.   I could taste that BQ.  This was NOT how it was supposed to happen! 

Anger was the strongest emotion that I felt over the past two months, and my mind returned to this feeling many, many times over the course of my forced rest period.  I would see others running and get so very annoyed with them… and annoyed is putting it lightly.  I actually had to unfollow the local Moms Run This Town Facebook page that I am a member of, because I just couldn’t stand seeing all of those running posts every single day.  My friends would try to mention running as little as possible in our group messages, knowing how much it was hurting me to hear about what I was missing.  I knew they were running, though.  That upset me so much… I’d wake up at 4:30 AM, and my first thought would be of those who were meeting to run, without me. Of course, I knew their lives were not going to stop just because I was injured, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Stage 3: Bargaining

After my initial (incorrect) diagnosis of tendonitis, I got a second opinion a few days later.   This new doctor said it was likely a calf strain and had me start physical therapy immediately.  I threw myself into the exercises that my PT gave me.  Whatever he said, I figured if I could do it and do it well, then I’d get better. Strengthen my glutes?  Sure!  Try dry needling?  Why not?!   I was told that I very likely could still race my marathon, and I clung to those words with all of my might.  Even when I was experiencing pain while running on the Alter-G (anti-gravity treadmill), I pretended it wasn’t there… until my obvious limp was pointed out by two different therapists. 

I finally had to admit that no amount of trying to “fix” this injury was going to make things better.  If I couldn’t even run a 10 minute mile with only 50% of my body weight, then how in the world would I be able to run an 8:20 pace for 26.2 miles in just over 3 weeks?  Answer: I couldn’t.  Which quickly catapulted me to the next stage...

Stage 4: Depression

I fell into a deep, dark funk after admitting that my marathon wasn’t going to happen.  I was able to appear as my usual chipper, happy self to the rest of the world.   Fake it till you make it, right?  People remarked how well I was taking everything.  I only revealed how very sad I was to those who I was closest to, and was met with varying responses, all supportive in their own ways.  Amanda checked in with me almost every day, and allowed me to vent to my heart’s content.  She told me that I was allowed to be mad, sad, etc.  I needed this permission as I dealt with all of the emotions that the injury brought on in me.  Erin gave me time to mourn the loss of this race, but also was the one who forced me to remember that I would run again, and I needed to be grateful for this fact.  This “tough love” approach had a role in my recovery as well.  Jen’s words made me laugh when I was at my saddest; she wouldn’t let me stay down for very long.  She too made me realize that I was lucky that this was merely a small blip on the radar of my running career, and that I would reach my goal eventually, just not as quickly as I’d planned.  Andrea was there for me as a best friend should be; she seemed to know exactly what to say for whatever mood I was in.  It was our long runs together that I missed more than any other!

There were days that were better, and days that were worse.  I made the choice to travel to Toledo with a few friends who were racing.  I was questioned for this choice… why would I want to go to the very race that I was now unable to run in?  I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the thought of all of my closest friends being there without me hurt more than not getting to race.  I decided to try to embrace my role as cheerleader, making posters and riding my friend Elisa’s mom’s bike all over the race course to offer support to those who were running.  The tears flowed freely several times that day… when I watched all of the participants start the race… when I saw the 3:35 pace group run by me at mile 20… when I rode solo down the street and realized today was THE day.  Even now, almost a month after the race has already taken place, I am crying as I type these words.  This was a loss in every sense of the word, and it is still very raw to me.  I’m not sure when I will be able to think about the “marathon that wasn’t” and not get choked up.

Stage 5: Acceptance

I made the choice to accept the fact that I wouldn’t be racing on April 9, which was ten days after I suffered my calf injury.  However, like those who are going through the stages of grief for the passing of a loved one, I vacillated between the stages.  I didn’t remain in any stage for an extended period of time.  I finally had an MRI about 4.5 weeks after my injury occurred, and was told that I likely had experienced a stress fracture in addition to a calf injury on March 31; the calf injury was more acute, and that pain masked the stress fracture that had happened.  I felt like I was back at square one again when my doctor told me that I needed to rest an additional couple of weeks.  More time off?? Was he kidding me?!!

I felt great by that point, and wanted so badly to lace up my shoes… but I listened and continued to swim and bike and go on the elliptical at the gym, biding my time for a bit longer.  Patience is a virtue, and it’s definitely not a strength of mine, but my goal was to be smart so that I wouldn’t have to take more time off in the future.

My total amount of time without running ending up being 48 days, just one day short of seven weeks.  This sounds like a much shorter time than it actually felt like to me.  I’m one week into my recovery right now.  I am following a return-to-running plan given to me by my doctor, running for short distances at a very relaxed pace.  Every time I get to run, I am extremely grateful… yet also very, very scared.  It doesn’t help that I get these “phantom pains” every now and then, almost like mental flashbacks to when the injury first occurred. I was warned that I likely would experience these pains, but it still scary every time I feel a little twinge.  I know that as my pace gets faster again, the fear will continue.  I am terrified of adding speed back into my training plan, although that is a couple of months away.  I’m trying to take things one run at a time, staying in the moment and enjoying the mere act of putting one foot in front the other again.