Gang's All Here

We've already gushed about our fabulous footsy fans and their uncompromising support for this marathon venture, but never in a zillion years could we have anticipated such a fantastic showing from our friends and family.

As we inch closer and closer to the big day, Liv + I are overwhelmed with excitement as everyone, and we mean everyone, treks to the District for the big day. We have parents, grandparents, brothers, boyfriends, girlfriends, sisters-in-law and a mob of buddies - and they're all here to push us along the course and celebrate with us at the finish line. 

I have so much adrenaline rushing through my body, I'm ready to forget this whole run/walk business and sprint toward the finish line (okay, not really. but i'm awfully excited). So a big THANK YOU goes out to all of our loved ones. You guys are the best, and we're so pumped to share this day with you!

Fabulous Footsy Fans

Admittedly, I've been a wee bit reluctant to encourage friends and family to come out on race day and cheer because... well... let's be honest... it might take me 6+ hours... if I'm able to finish at all. I really have no idea how things are going to go with my knee, and though I remain optimistic, I don't know what to expect.

But in true Baker form, they're coming anyway - and the closer and closer I get to race day, I'm so excited (and appreciative) to have their support. Even if I look like a hot, sweaty and miserable mess for 26.2 miles (which I will), it's incredibly encouraging to know they'll be waiting for me at the finish line (or maybe at a nearby bar if I take too long. (On second thought, this is probably the most likely scenario - which I fully support). 

This week, I received just about the most thoughtful care package a wannabe runner gal could wish for from one of my sweet bros...

Our friends and family have been fantastic since day one of this little venture. God knows we've blabbed and gushed and complained about this marathon for waaaaay longer than anyone ever should. We've made it a point to annoy just about everyone in our immediate surroundings, making sure that everyone (and I mean EVERYONE... including you, cyber friends) knows that, "No. We are not natural runners, but we're trying to be." And while we certainly encountered some confusion and doubt when we first broadcast our plans to run this thing, everyone came around and realized we meant business with this here blog. 

So a big thank you to all of you! Family, friends, co-workers, cyber buddies, mailman, Starbucks barista - we truly appreciate your listening ears and ongoing and going and going and going support. If it wasn't for you, I guaran-damn-tee you that I would've given up many, many moons ago.

Saturday

I've lost my training partner for the 10-mile training run on Saturday. Sal + Liv have been on a roll training together, I think this will be the first run apart in 3 weeks or so. This will, once again, mark Liv's longest run ever and I'm pretty nervous to be going it without her; however, never fear - Footsy Friend Megs will be there! (You met her this week.)

We've chosen this route, and it actually includes part of the MCM marathon course. From each person I've spoken to who has completed the "People's Marathon", this part just happens to be their least favorite on race day. Almost to a person they cite the reason for this as the lack of crowd support in the dead middle of the race (miles 11 - 15). It's the almost 4-mile loop around Hains Point, an island at the southern tip of East Potomac Park (it's also the hubster's golf course of choice because it's the most affordable in the area). After he plays he always says, "Y'all should run the path around the point. There are always tons of runners and bikers." My reply is usually something along the lines of, "Oh I'm not worried - I'll definitely get my chance to run Hains Point."

Not to be overlooked - our course ends on M Street... right where the new Sprinkles location opened this week. Let's be serious, we have to see how it compares to to all of the other cupcake places in this city.

I can't wait to hear how Sal's run goes tomorrow. I'm going to be thinking about her - and be quite jealous - as she'll have it knocked out first thing Friday AM, ready for her event-filled weekend. All hail King Big Al!

Sal's potential post-run treat

Any MCM veterans out there? What are your favorite and least favorite parts of the course?

Powers of Persuasion

I won't lie, I think we're kind of awesome. I mean, it's one thing to convince your friends to go for pizza instead of sushi, but it's a whole different ball game to peer pressure folks into torturing their bodies for months on end - all for the purpose of crossing a finish line after 26.2 miles. 

Okay, okay. We can't reeeeally take credit for convincing our friends to run this marathon with us - but it makes us feel cooler to think that we did. Truth of the matter is that they too had the marathon itch. We all wanted to focus our efforts on a palpable goal - knowing that, if we put in the necessary hours preparing our bodies and minds, it's going to feel pretty stellar on race day when we cross the finish line together. 

And since we'll probably be referencing these folks several times in the next few months, I felt it necessary to give them a little introduction...

Now, you've already met Tess, and she's pretty much the bomb.com. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't have believed her when she told me she registered for the MCM if she hadn't included a screen shot of her registration page. Our exchange went a little something like this...

Tess: Holy moly!

Me: Shut the front door. Did you really do it? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

We then lobbed one over to Megs (you'll meet her in a sec) to peer pressure her, too. 

Me: Your turn, Megs. 

Megs: TESS! FOR REAL?? Okay guys, I'm sweating. I need a phone date. When does training officially start?? OMG OMG OMG OMG!

Yes, we're aware that we talk like tweens. 

Tess: I'm freaking out, too. I've aged a lot since yesterday (which just so happened to be Tess' birthday). I am really committing to things these days.

Megs: What should I put for expected finish time? Yes, I'm signing up. 

Tess: I put 6 hours.

Yeeeah. So we're not exactly planning to break any records here, but we're pretty darn excited about going through this whole business together. Sadly, Tess lives in Dallas, so we won't actually get to train with her. To stick to a training plan, she's going to run with a group in D-town that requires long runs on Sunday mornings beginning at 5 am. Yeesh. More power to you, g-fri.

Now meet Megan. She agreed to run the 10-miler with us a while back even though the running thing isn't natural for her either. It has been extremely helpful to go through all of the same bang-ups and hang-ups together and hold each other accountable for our training.  Megs has a passion for 90210 (Hi Dylan!), cereal (LOTS of it) and all things fashion (Seriously, the girl's closet makes me misty-eyed). Oh, and she also goes to the same gym as me, so it's indescribably helpful to have a treadmill buddy to keep me going (and help me stand upright). Both Tess & Megs are hot yoga junkies so I have a feeling they'll be creating their own unique training plan that involves a proper balance of the two. 

And then there's this guy. We can't really count Patrick as a "footsy friend" because, first of all, we won't see him on race day... like, at all. He will have finished the marathon, taken a shower (he'll need it) and refueled by the time we're anywhere near the finish line. He has also completed the MCM before, so as far as we're concerned, he's kind of an expert. Secondly, there's not a snowball's chance in hell that Patrick will EVER be guest blogging on SFOF, much less, allow us to gab about his training on here. In fact, the only reason you're seeing him now is because he's traveling for a few weeks somewhere in South America and won't see this post until after it's too late [insert evil laughter here]. But what makes this all even better, his dad has signed up to run the marathon for his second time, too.

Anyway, that's our "team" for now. We hope to make some more footsy friends as training kicks into gear, too. We're weighing our training options right now and considering joining a running club in DC.  Liv is pretty gung ho about the idea of joining a running group, but I'm still on the fence. What works best for you guys? How do you hold yourself accountable when training for a race?

Footsy Friends: Mikey & the Krispy Kreme Challenge

I'm beyond excited to introduce today's guest blogger: my recovering meathead of a brother, Mikey Doodle (okay, his name is actually Mike, but why pass up an opportunity to call him an embarrassing family nickname on the World Wide Web?) Mikey oh-so-bravely challenged the elements today by stepping out into this rainy mess of a day and putting his insides through complete and utter torture - all for the thrill of the Krispy Kreme Challenge. I'm proud to announce (though I'm not sure if I should be) that Mikey successfully ran 4.8 miles with a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts in his belly. And being the sweet brother that he is (and because he knew his whiny little sister wouldn't let him off the hook without a fight), he offered to share with SFOF a little bit about the battle of man vs. donut...

Saturday mornings are great. You sleep a little longer, eat a little more breakfast, take a little more time getting your day started. You know what makes Saturdays even better? How about when it’s raining, cold and dark out and you wake up realizing this and rollover for that extra (at LEAST) hour of sleep. Those conditions just so happen to make my Saturday morning. However, THIS Saturday looked nothing like the Saturday we all know and love. This Saturday I had to get up at 6:30, bundle up in four layers of racing gear, lace up the Mizunos, and drive 30 minutes to the campus of NC State to join 7,500 other sugar enthusiasts for the 7th annual Krispy Kreme challenge.

Having arrived a little early I danced around the bell tower waiting on my friends, all the while getting heavier and heavier by the minute as the rain continued to fall and soak through my layers. Despite the 35 degrees, the scene is surprisingly full of life, with sightings of gorilla man, Mario and Luigi, bikini girl, and many others, all trying to stay dry before they embark on perhaps the worst decision of their life.

My friends show up just before the start of the race and we go get in line as racers dart off. We hadn’t planned ahead of time who was running with whom, so I had to make a quick decision on how much I wanted to torture myself. Group A, two 6’7” guys who just so happen to be very athletic, or Group B, two girls, my height and probably my pace. Naturally I choose the daddy long leg group and I was already a half-mile into the race before I could process what a bad decision that was.

We dart through the crowded streets, jumping through and around puddle after puddle, inching our way closer and closer to infamous mid-way point. (side note: Much to my dismay the race is not the 4 mile race it claims to be. For some reason they market it as four, when it’s actually 4.77. That can be very disheartening when you had garnered the courage over the previous few months to take on this 4 mile eat/run challenge.) We’re probably trucking at a 7:45 pace or so, and I’m feeling pretty good despite the conditions.

We finally turn the corner and off in the distance I can see the green and red sign. I shudder. I think I see it flicker its lights at me in a taunting gesture. We get closer and luckily (for me) it’s backed up and I can regain my breath. Like a herd of cattle they push us through a tunnel of tables covered in donut boxes that are covered with sheets of plastic. Must be saving the dense donuts for the slow pokes, I tell myself.

Mikey starting to feel the pain

And then it happens. A volunteer passes me the box of doom. It’s time. Me vs. the dirty dozen. Runner vs. eater. Lactic acid vs. saturated fat. It’s on.

(another side note: While it makes complete sense, the “hot and fresh” you’re picturing when you sign up for this race is never found. I so badly wanted to drop inside the store and grab my dozen right off the conveyor belt and let the donuts melt in my mouth. No, these were cold and not fresh. Given they were baking 60,000 donuts, I forgave KK).

As we walk to find the best eating spot, I open the box and pull out #1, squeezing the life out of it with my hand. Not too bad. I can do this. Next I grab out #2 and 3 together, smushing them into a fist full of goodness. Three down, I can definitely do this. #4, 5, and 6 together next. I start to slow down. After barely finishing those I’m at the half way point. HALF WAY. I have to eat what I just ate all over again. #7, 8, 9 come out together and I mash them together as well, deep down hoping to crush their morale and subsequently their ability to wage war on my stomach. It wasn’t working. KK had turned the table and was fighting back with a vengeance.

Each bite takes longer and longer. I try talking to my friends around me to take my mind off the battle that I’m losing. I find some water to wash some of the sugar down my throat, some of the 264 grams of carb I have eaten. Time to grab #10, 11, and 12. I’m literally feeling dizzy, seeing a couple of stars. Painfully, I take a bite and then another. My buddies are about ready to go. I grab my empty box for proof and the last half of my 3-donut stack and we start walking towards the gate. I have my first gag reflex. I really don’t know if I can get the last few bites down but I tell myself I have to! I can’t tell people I ate all 12 if I throw the last little bit on the ground. I show the volunteers my empty box and start back on the run, grasping the remaining nugget of donut in my sugar glazed hands.

Mikey and the Daddy Long Legs

Over the next mile I take little nibbles of it, wishing it would just go away. With about a mile and half left to race my nugget is finally gone and I move back to the other challenge at hand. Running mostly uphill, through the now heavier rain, with a stomach full of 240 grams of fat (60 saturated). Not a minute into the return trip, group daddy long legs had left me in the dust, err, mud. My focus on finishing the race and keeping the food internal makes the world around me quiet. I can hear my heart, more confused than it’s ever been. Blood to muscles or blood to digestive system? You can’t have both Mike!

My calves start to feel the blood depletion with cramps trickling down both sides. But I am determined to make it and I have to get it under an hour, as that is what the official challenge rules require. Surprisingly, I had not seen any yackers yet. Rumor had it that an average of 25% of the competition would not hold it in. Focused on not being part of that statistic, I chug up the hill, in the zone, towards the finish line. 

Finally I can hear the music and see the light at the end of the tunnel. I endure the final half-mile and cross through the finish line, stomach fully intact with 8 or 9 minutes to spare. I made it. A few minutes later I contemplate an upchuck, but decide against it.

After watching a few more waves of people cross the finish line, I headed back home to a relaxing, hot bath. After 2400 calories (1,320 from fat), 144 grams of fat, 60 mg of cholesterol, 13,680 mg of sodium, 264 grams of carbs, and a whopping 24 grams of protein my morning was complete. Krispy Kreme, better luck next time.

Footsy Friends: Guest Blogger Tess

Introducing our ever-fabulous and exceptionally eccentric hot yogi of a friend, Tess. Though she recently ditched us in the District for the bright lights of D-Town, Tess is that friend that's always up for a challenge or adventure and can make you laugh in a second (particularly when dressed in her weekend uniform of a bright orange Texas sweat suit with some statically-stuck socks on her bum and UGGs in the middle of summer). She's also that friend that will screen your calls for 3 months and then pop up out of nowhere and offer to guest blog. That's why we love her (well that, and because of her slightly alarming passion for ketchup). And now, you will love her too…

Greetings fellow pavement pounders! Allow me to introduce myself as the first ever guest blogger to penetrate the pages of Shoes Full of Feet. A little about me- I'll be brief so as not to bore: I'm a 26-year young native Texan living in Dallas- working, figuring things out and have recently been adhering to the mantra "keep calm, carry on." I have found the latter to be a bit easier than the former, but I'm halfway there, right?

As far as my running classification, I would consider myself an emotional runner (hmmm). My relationship with running (because as you will see it most certainly is a relationship) has been pretty consistent over the last 10 years, but rocky at times. I find myself running when I am mad, sad, happy, stressed and bored. I have always used running as a quick fix to satiate one or a few of the aforementioned feelings. When Sal + Liv informed me that they had decided to start running and were planning to supplement their training with an awesome blog, I was admittedly… jealous (what!?). While I have been running all of my life, I've never let myself fall in love with it for fear of having to take my running relationship to the next level. I have never given running a chance to change my life, or at least enrich it… until now. With that I ask beg for a second chance.

WARNING- CONTENT BELOW MAY NOT BE APPROPRIATE FOR SERIOUS RUNNERS: 

Twas' the night before the Turkey Trot… and well… my anxiety was stirring, A LOT. I had not run in quite some time and had not prepared in a way that I normally would. I woke up @ 6 am, threw on an oversized T and running pants, and went to Starbucks did a jumping jack or two in the driveway. I had not preregistered for the 10K and was met by long, long lines upon arrival. Luckily, I made it in just enough time to line up and take off. My total time was 59:08:02, and while I did not stop unless you count some suspect lingering at the water station, it was not pretty. My lack of preparation came through before, during and after the race. BUT with every accomplishment comes a lesson learned. If I am going to gear up for this marathon, I need to get serious. Until next time, here is what I am listening to... on repeat.

Sneaks off to Liv + Sal… see you in DC!

Meet Crockett too aka Tess' BFF