Despite all my nattering about running, the majority of my lifespan has been spent engaging in sedentary activities like reading, writing, eating Doritos for breakfast (a college habit), slaving over a computer in a cubicle, and smoking (the ultimate anti-running pastime). I began running over 14 years ago, because I had reached the clinical definition of overweight at 165 pounds. I immediately strived for “more distance” over “faster” because to run even 3 miles, at whatever pace, was an accomplishment .

The distances got longer and the weight disappeared. In 2011, I ran my first road marathon (Philadelphia). I finished in four hours and 18 minutes, with legs so sore I could barely walk back to the car. I was hobbled for a week after. But I achieved the distance, I didn’t give two sh*ts about my time, and I wanted more. Having also gotten into trail running around this time, I read about ultra races and my mind just marveled: Normal people like me, running for 50 miles or more!

So I trained and raced ultras, which requires running slow for long periods of time. In ultras, I race in the mid-pack. But I noticed something: when I race short distances on the road (5K, 10K) I am pretty fast, despite not doing speed work in my training. It turns out that my ultra training (heavy, slow mileage with lots of hills) also makes me fast. When I add in a few days of actual speed work, I get even faster.

The only other road marathon I ever did was Chicago in 2012. I finished even slower than Philly (4 hours, 20 minutes) but that’s because I ran the first 15 miles with my college housemate Tim, who is a “bucket list” kind of marathoner and wanted to maintain 11-minute miles. At mile 15 I took off (at his insistence) and ran a negative split. It was fantastic experience, mostly because Tim and I spent those 15 miles talking a lot about the new kid’s series he was in the process of creating, which turned out to be the wildly successful Odd Squad.

Anyway, my road marathon PR is 4:18. And that has to change. Given my road half marathon PR is 1:42, I know that I can do significantly under 4 hours… maybe even a Boston Qualifier (which is 3:40, though I would need to have a 3:37 for a legitimate chance at winning entry). So I signed up for the Hyannis Marathon at the end of February, which give me 7 weeks to do tempo runs on the bicycle path whilst pining for the woods.

When I signed up for Hyannis, I had to pick a division. Choices: “Open Women” or “Filly Women.” A “filly,” apparently, weighs 140 pounds or more (incidentally, most other races put the “filly” or “Athena” women at 150 pounds or more). As I mentioned last week, my winter weight is currently hovering right around 140 pounds at the moment. So I am categorically a female horse! (Incidentally the Clydesdale division, for men, starts at 190 pounds. Which seems a little more strict.)

It’s probably true that a 140 pound woman like myself cannot compete with the short, slim women who generally win road marathons. And looking at the times of women who won the Filly division in the past… I would have a legitimate shot at making the Filly podium.

If I HAD registered as such. I didn’t though. Mostly because I really hope to be several pounds under 140 by the time of the race, but also because I don’t believe my weight is a disadvantage. I will beat plenty of women who weigh less than me.

Allow me to allow you to take a mental gander at my legs: Thick, almost obscene calf muscles, with body-builder-like veins feeding through them. Rock-hard thighs and hips. A butt that defies the gravity tugging at this nearly 40-year old body. These muscles are not a disadvantage. In trail running, these are the physical rewards I reap.

What is a filly, anyway? A female horse, so young they do not allow her to race. Would I really demoralize myself to register in a race as such?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!

In regards to yesterday’s ambiguous resolution to “blog more,” I should have set up a guideline: Try not to always write trite blog posts about running, buffeted by selfies taken in the woods. But, I didn’t offer any such caveat, so I can blog with wild abandon about today’s 11-mile trail run.

I had planned to leave the house at 7am but Little Boy was awake at 6:15am. I made him go to bed at 8:30pm last night because it was my turn to read the story and I was exhausted due to several nights of poor sleep this week. Mr. P was still sleeping and I have a hard time saying good-bye to Little Boy when he’s all by himself, so I didn’t actually get outside until 7:20am. It was 30 degrees. I had my lightweight Inov-8 backpack with some water, a pair of Yak Trax, and my phone. I felt good and ran easy on the sidewalks to the trailhead.

I entered the woods at Lone Tree Hill with the goal of capturing a course record on a particular Strava segment. This segment is about 1 mile, with 250 feet of elevation gain. I scoped out the women’s course record and felt that even with the ice and snow, I could still beat it. But I took a wrong turn up the hill and then lamented the hard effort for “nothing” (except for my personal betterment and fitness). When I got home and synced my watch with Strava, it turns out my wrong turn took me to a different Strava segment and I somehow got the course record for that, despite tiptoeing around sheets of ice and frozen mud. Strava link.

The trail got progressively worse in Beaver Brook and I stopped to don Yak Trax. I frequently walked, but even when I could run it wasn’t very fast. My heart rate remained low but I feel like dealing with difficult terrain is excellent training.

I returned home ravenous for eggs. One recurring source of annoyance for me is the discrepancy between the “calories burned” reported on Strava versus Movescount, which is the website for my Suunto watch. According to Strava, I burned 1,447 calories; Movescount says I burned 831. That’s a difference of two glasses of wine! Of course, I choose to believe Strava.

Winsome winter meadow

A better section of trail

Obligatory Selfie