Time to taper...

This morning, the team set out for the "23-mile pace group social," during which we were supposed to run slower than commute pace. For our group, that's about a 12:30, which is about how fast I walk when I'm really hauling ass. I could run forever at that pace! I joined my team at mile 3 and planned to run 20 with them. It was a gorgeous day--chilly at the start, but once we got going, I warmed up. We ran down around the tip of Manhattan, by the Staten Island Ferry terminal and got a great view of the underside of the Brooklyn bridge. One of the best part of training with TFK (there have been lots of best parts) has been been exploring the city on foot--I was so happy to be out there with my teammates, sharing our favorite TFK memories. It was so cool to hear about what stuck with everyone--how they felt after each long run, each joke, etc. It was so important to me to be a part of that, because I don't think we're going to be able to reminisce on marathon day with 37,000 other runners.

I felt really good until mile 11 (mile 14 for them), when my hip started to tighten up. I knew immediately that it was best to stop running before I had pain. Another teammate of mine had ankle pain, so we stopped together and headed back uptown to the start. I was (am) pretty discouraged, but I know that it was the best thing to do. I'm going to really rest during the tapering period and try to pull out a decent marathon using an 18-mile base. Not ideal, but the adrenaline and the crowds on the day of will help get me through.

I told my team not to start sharing favorite memories until I joined them at mile 3 (that was our homework assignment from Frank), and Nancy started to tease me: "What the memories are about you and they're bad? Moira's here, now she's leaving. Here, now leaving." That was pretty funny, given the fact that I haven't finished a long run in four weeks. I started laughing and crying, at which point Frank told me to stop because I "can't spare the sodium." I just started laughing and crying harder at that. Thanks, Frank!

Seriously, you should've seen me last night. There was a commercial on for the marathon on NBC, and the voiceover said something like "37,000 unique stories...the New York City marathon." Oh, I was a mess. And then I saw this:about Dick and Rick Hoyt, the father-son team who have run more than 200 triathlons and 64 marathons, and started crying harder. Go to www.teamhoyt.com for the full story.

And my stupid hip hurts. I definitely got a healthy dose of perspective. (Sometimes I just hate those).

Let the tapering begin.