Boston ... Stronger.

Hello Sole Sister readers -- it has been a long time! Pardon me while I dust off this blog, but I do so with urgency because as of right now, Sole Sister M and I are less than ONE WEEK from running in the 118th Boston Marathon. 

This was a good mailbox day. 

I'm finding it hard to find adequate words to describe how excited, nervous, proud, and patriotic I'm feeling. Quite frankly, even though I'm currently elbows deep in packing lists and public transit schedules and itinerary timing, a large part of me still does not quite believe that we soon will be getting on a plane and flying to Boston. I'm not even quite sure that it will hit me once we get on the ground -- it could take standing on Boylston Street to realize that nearly two years of planning and hard work, both by us and our loved ones, has finally led to the culmination of a quiet little dream that was hatched at a Fricker's restaurant in Perrysburg.

It was a tough, snowy training cycle this time around for many runners, Sole Sisters included. 

In our northwest Ohio neck of the woods, spring is finally unfurling after what was the harshest winter in about 35 years. (Though today's forecast calls for an inch and a half of snow -- no, I'm not joking.) With every sunny day, people and plants are stretching toward the warming orb with the joy of a lazy sunning tabby cat.  Seriously folks, if you live someplace where you didn't chatter through the sub-zero temps brought by a succession of polar vortices or fill your snow shovels with hundreds of feet of snow, you can count yourself blessed (and let me know if you have room for a family of four). For M and me, a lot of our training was done indoors this year, until we absolutely had to get out and gut through longer runs in the (fill-in-the-blank) snow, slush, wind, hail, rain, etc. Our Christmas exchange gifts this year? For me -- YaxTrax. For her -- knee-high thermal running socks. To this winter, we say "sno-thank you." 

How cold was it? M's Salted Caramel GU froze mid-run during a 15-miler at Wildwood. 

My running attire could have doubled as bank-robber gear. 

I am a firm believer, however, that until you know the bad times, you can't fully appreciate the good times. That is what makes the promise of this particular spring so tantalizing. Spring is a time of renewal, rebirth. After the year that the city of Boston has had, dealing with the shock of the bombings at the marathon finish line, the tragic loss of life, and the gut-wrenching recoveries that the bombing victims have had to endure and still do endure, I'd like to think that part of the renewal process will be furthered by the return of runners to the nation's oldest annual marathon. 

This will be our very first Boston Marathon. This will be my first time in the city of Boston, period. When we made it our goal in March 2013 to qualify for Boston 2014, we had no way of knowing that when we did qualify, we'd be coming to run the 118th race as part of what is Boston's road to recovery.

 I want this race to be a giant victory parade for the city of Boston. I want this race to symbolize that in the heart of each of the 36,000 runners beats the cadence, "You will not take this from me." I want 26.2 miles of relentless footfalls to deliver the message, "You messed with the wrong people." I want the all of the spectators' cheers and joyful tears, the elites' blazing-fast victories (go Shalane!) and the back-of-the-packers's personal bests to herald the fact that this city is not only Boston Strong, but has grown Boston Stronger. 

***

We are heading out on Friday, and the race is this Monday, April 21. If you'd like to track our progress, you can do so in a couple of ways. 

• For cell phone updates, text our bib numbers (Victoria) 18396 and (McKenzie) 16787 to  345678 
• Get updates via email by registering for AT&T Athlete Alert 

Thanks so much for your kind words and encouragement -- it's really helped us to bring our dreams to life and knowing that we have such a great support net back home really keeps us moving through the tough times. You guys are great!! 

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to each other.  -- V.

One Run For Boston -- The Sole Sisters Run to Remember

On June 25, the Sole Sisters and Coach B took part in an EPIC event, the One Run For Boston relay. This 3,300 mile event started June 6  in Venice Beach, Calif., and ends June 30 at the Boston Marathon finish line. As of this writing, $70,000 has been raised by ORFB for the victims and families of victims of the Boston Marathon bombings.

We left Perrysburg at 7 a.m. and headed down to our rendezvous point of Blacklick Woods Park in Reynoldsburg, Ohio. By tracking updates on Facebook and the One Run For Boston Web site, we knew the relay was stated to be 50 minutes behind schedule, so we were enjoying a leisurely drive south ... until we realized that there was an error in the stage timing. The organizers had built in too much time for the stage ahead of us, giving about 2 hours for Todd Wells to run 10.5 miles. That meant, at our current driving speed, we would have arrived about 30 minutes after the runner had been waiting for us at the park. I thought I was going to pass out in the van -- so much careful planning thrown out the window. Organizer Kate Treleavan then called my phone and told me to not panic; she would ring Todd and let him know we may be delayed. Well, who can panic when hearing such a beautiful British accent? As luck (and a heavy right foot, courtesy of M) would have it, we made it just fine, before Todd arrived. 

 We met up with Officer Jeff Triplett of the Reynoldsburg Police Department. The police graciously offered to escort us during the 7.5 miles through the city and to the next relay point in Etna. He was fantastic in every aspect, even carrying M's keys in the saddlebag of his Harley-Davidson (which is a super-sweet ride, I must say). 

V, Officer Triplett, and M pose before the relay leg.

 Todd Wells brought in the GPS-tracking baton (whose name is Miles), and we posed for some quick pics before heading out. 

V,  M, and Coach B take Miles from Todd Wells, who completed a hot and fast 10.5 miles.

The day was hot and the shade was non-existent. Officer Triplett trailed us during the run, speeding ahead to stop traffic at intersections and assuring our safe passage. The temperature index soared into the 90s, and you could see the heat shimmering on the pavement. 

Our route covered a 7-mile incline, which I'm glad I didn't realize before we started. There were no remarkable landmarks, barring a creepy pet cemetery and the headquarters for the Ohio Department of Agriculture and the State Fire Marshal, so we had plenty of time to think about why we were out there. 

A neat mural in Reynoldsburg, taken while on the run.

The miles ticked by, and before we knew it, Etna and High Point Park were in sight. M and I cranked it up a notch to make the last mile an 8:30, with a strong kick to Sam Ridenour, who was taking the next 10-mile leg. 

We caught our breath, made introductions, gratefully accepted water from the Reynoldsburg Police Department, posed for pictures with local media, and made the exchange. Sam set off, and our role in moving Miles closer to Boston was over.   

Our time with Miles came to and end, and we handed off to Sam Ridenour.

 We run to remember. We run to heal. We run to support those who are hurting. We run to recover. We run to show solidarity. We run to show we are not afraid. We run because we are strong. We run because we can and now others cannot. We run because we are Boston Strong, America Strong, World Strong, Human Being Strong. 

Note that I say "we run" not "I run." Though running is at its very core a solitary pursuit, the community of runners is vast and diverse, and when stitched together for a common cause this community proves a fabric so strong that not even men with evil intent can fray it. 

We run with our legs at different speeds, but a same runners' spirit can be found beating in each of our hearts, regardless of how our pace, PR, and preferred distance vary. This intangible spirit, this hard-to-define, but easy-to-recognize quality is part of what unites us as runners. It's that feeling you get when you 'just know' someone is a fellow runner. No matter what a runner's individual journey is, we've all had the same hard-to-take first steps; difficult, gut-wrenching runs (take that as literally as you'd like), triumphant, 'I could have run forever' finishes; and heart-breaking  'just missed it' endings. It doesn't matter if you are 12-minute trotter or a sub-5 dasher -- somewhere along the way these things have happened to you. And it's partly that shared experience that binds us together into this sense of community, even if you don't know the person running next to you from Eve.

That's why, for me, even though I was not in Boston when the bombings happened, I felt shaken to my core upon hearing the news, knowing that I could easily put myself in the shoes of those who were present. I think anyone who runs or who supports a runner would tell you they feel the same way. That's why I knew I had to do what I could to support those affected by the tragedy by running the One Run For Boston cross-country relay. The truth is, though, while I was helping provide aid by donating and taking part, this experience also helped me heal further as well. ORFB provided a way for a community of like-minded runners to connect via the relay's Web site and through Facebook and Twitter. Not only were routes planned and pick-up and drop-off times confirmed, but friendships were forged as well. We got to know each other, hear each others' stories, learn why we were running, have a few laughs about pairs of tiny red running shorts, declare each other to be badasses when deserved, and even set up some open calls for ORFB alumni to come visit each other whenever we find ourselves in the city of a fellow runner (if only the relay had passed through Hawaii...).

Yes, bombs went off, but those bombers did not accomplish what they truly intended. We do not live in fear. We are stronger and more connected than ever. We are united as a running community, and I actually think we are nicer and more willing to reach out and help each other. Maybe ironically, their legacy will not be one of mere destruction. Rather, this act of violence has served as a catalyst to unite us, amplifying the runners' spirit that beats within all of our hearts. The heart that beats within all of us is turning tragedy into triumph. The pace of that beat is everyone's personal best. 

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to each other.  -- V. 

You Take the Good, You Take the Bad: Catching up with the RW Summer Run Streak

Hey all, V here. Well, we've been VERY GOOD about keeping up with the streak. We've been NOT VERY GOOD in consistently writing about it! So, here is a SUPER CATCH-UP POST to let you know we're streakers, not slackers. When last we left you, we were embarking on Day 26 of the streak. Welcome to the first day of summer! This run reminded me about all the reasons why I LOOOOVEEE ... to run in cold temperatures and train for SPRING marathons, not FALL marathons.

When I get hot, I get crabby. And when I'm crabby, it's really difficult to fight the mental demons that can plague any run. What can I say: the heat frizzles my brain and really makes me dive into the well of self-doubt. Pair that with the crampiness that seems to be from streak-induced muscle stress, and it's just the recipe for a physical and mental meltdown. On days like this, I am happy to get THROUGH a run! So, bless the streak for keeping me out there, working hard, even though I'd rather be sitting eating grapes and being fanned by a giant palm frond.

But, being optimistic, I have to believe there is a good for every bad. The very next day, my run felt fantastic; better than it's been in awhile. Coach B, who unfairly bears the brunt of my road neuroses and crankiness but somehow loves me anyway, flat-out told me: "You need to rediscover why you love to run. You should slow it down, especially in the heat. Not every run is a race. Even world-class marathoners do their 'junk' miles at a 10 minute pace sometimes to recharge." 

Sidecut Metropark is a great place to recharge your running batteries.

 Well, I listened. Day 27 was a great run. I did slow down, I stayed in the shade when I could, and I worked on being a positive runner and only worrying about running a pace that made me feel good about what I was doing out there. I got 6 miles in total on a day that was in the 90-degree range and I reached the 600-mile mark on my Nike+. I felt strong and unstoppable, like I could accomplish anything: THAT feeling is what I love about running. While when things go wrong, I always look at what went wrong and list out the problems. I've decided that when things go RIGHT, I need to also list what was good about the experience, what led to it being good, that way I can try to replicate those things in hopes of having another good day. Every day is different, though; sometimes doing all the right things still doesn't elevate your run and sometimes you can have a great run even if you didn't expect to. But, it can't hurt to keep track of what works and what doesn't, on any given outing.

Day 27 was a breakthrough day for me. I reached 600 miles run while using my Nike+ tracker, I drew inspiration from having watched Shalane Flanagan's outstanding 10,000-meter run at the USATF championships (T.L.S. = Tough Like Shalane), and I slowed it down, stayed cool physically and mentally, and remembered why I love to run.

I was only intending to do about 5 miles. But then as soon as I sat down and saw my Nike+ data, I realized that I was only 0.4 miles away from notching mile 600. Apparently, I am an OCD runner, because I was off like a shot to get that milestone. 

With such a great Day 27, I was hoping to catch lightning in a bottle again on Day 28. Pretty close! I had to be up early to get ready for a late Father's Day family cookout, but took most of the steps I had for the Day 27 run (bagel thin, banana, Gatorade Prime energy chews, stretched the calves, rolled them with The Stick). I set a goal of 4.5 miles, which would get me to 30 for the week. The run was pretty solid! I had some calf crampiness because I didn't roll them out as long as I had the previous day, but lesson learned. Taking the time to do maintenance on my muscles is a MUST for me -- it's not the heat or lack of potassium or salt; I need to roll them. Glad to find the common denominator (as a mathphobe, I have to just assume I'm using that term correctly...).

Goal met! Got the run done early, and then had a great cookout with family.

 Day 29 was my "rest day" of just one mile. This is because Day 30 will be part of the One Run For Boston cross country relay. I am so excited AND nervous. As of this writing, the relay is about an HOUR behind. This means I'll have to adjust when we leave, and be in contact with the local P.D. to keep them updated on the progress. But, wow: What an opportunity. I promise to post about it sooner rather than later!

One treadmill mile while watching tape-delay of the U.S. Track and Field Championships, followed by some fresh blackberries. I picked up some pepper spray ("Making grown men cry since 1975") to carry with me to put my family's mind at ease when I run alone. Will be testing it with (not on) Sole Child Nick this week ...

One last thing before I go: I hope some of you were able to catch some of the USATF championships in Des Moines, Iowa, this past weekend. There were some outstanding performances turned in, and I was inspired just watching them. I was also thinking that there was no way in hell I'd ever be able to run that fast -- but then I realized that as long as I run MY race in a good headspace, I'm doing pretty well. Some of the athletes had great things to say following their events (when they weren't gasping for air during the interview -- come ON, reporters; give them a minute, wouldja??). One of my favorites came from Natasha Hastings: 

True dat. Thanks for hanging in there through this loooooong update. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to each other. -- V.


Hey all!! Thanks for putting up with our (mainly mine) procrastination!  We are FAR FROM slackers but totally remaining true to our streaking and once again I will say that I am in disbelief that we have ran for 29 consecutive days!  The insanity of it!! 




You could definitely tell that Day 26 was the first day of summer.  Mother Nature made it known.  I think it may have been "her time" of the month because, yikes, it was HOTTT!  I was pressed for time on Friday and didn't get a chance to run outside, so it was off to the YMCA for me after work.  Just as well since I didn't feel like running in the sweltering heat.  This was my first run in my new Saucony Kinvara 4's.  They are super comfy!!

(I didn't really like the color scheme of them at first, but they are slowly growing on me.  They are SUPER bright!)

My treadmill run at the Y wasn't so bad, to be honest.  I got a good three miles in and then a great song came on my iPod, so I ended up with just over three and a half!  Not complaining!  

 (A little photo-bomb action from Sole Child Lucy as we waited in line for our tacos!)

Day 27 wasn't any better on the heat scale.  It was nasty and humid.  I didn't have much of a choice but to run during the hottest point of the day out at my mom's house (so she could watch the kids) where there is zero shade.  It was BRUTAL!!  I took her dog, Billy, with me for one mile... I don't think he could have handled much more than that, dropped him off and went for another two miles.  Let me tell you, I felt like I was running through cement.  That is how heavy and sluggish my legs felt.  I am totally with V on this one.  I HATE running in the heat.  Give me cold and snow any day to run in.  Okay, enough complaining...  I got a good three miles in despite the heat and felt good once it was done!!

(Just look at that handsome dog!  What a hunk!  My mom said if I said "heel", he wouldn't pull on the leash.  She lied.)

Yesterday, Day 28, was a great run.  It was hot (summer time, duh) and I ran in the middle of the day again.  This time I did the route that V refers to as the "Urban Jungle" route.  We just did it last week and it takes you through an old cemetery, past refineries, a loop through a local park and then back home.  It's a nice route to do early morning or afternoon.  I wouldn't quite feel safe doing this route in the evening... Little too scary for me.  Despite the heat, I managed to hold steady at an 8:20 pace.  

When I got home from my run, my friend Lisa had the kids out back with the garden hose hooked up to the slide on the swingset.  We like to call this the "Redneck Waterslide"  As you can see, we strategically place a tarp at the bottom, so your booty slides pretty dang fast when you come flying down.  The kids also decided to not only wet the tarp, but to add dish soap.  It was good, clean fun!

I can't believe this, but today is Day 29!  Holy cow!  That seems unreal to me.  Only ten days of this streak left!  Today I took it easy.  Had a long day at work and then did some car shopping (stay tuned).  By the time I got home, got a bite to eat and got myself situated, it was 10 p.m.  I knew I needed to take it easy since we have the One Run for Boston tomorrow.  I got an easy two miles in and I feel good!!

Good thing I got Day 29 out of the way when I did because it is currently pouring outside!  Hopefully it cools things down a bit!

Well folks, the next time you hear from us Sole Sisters will be after we have completed our leg of the cross country relay for Boston tomorrow!  Keep us in your thoughts in the morning hours! We hope to do you proud!  V and I cannot wait to share the experience with you all!!   

 

One Run For Boston -- Why We're Running This Once-In-A-Lifetime Relay Event

In this uncertain world, there is one constant that you can count on this summer. You might be at a cookout, swimming, at work, watching a drive-in movie, or even sleeping. No matter what you are doing, at any time between now and June 30, you can stop and say to yourself, "Right now, at this very  minute, one of more than a thousand runners is making his or her way across the United States clutching a lighted torch that says 'One Run For Boston.' " 

The design concept of the baton, created by UK artist Jon Parlby, is based on a lily flower, representing a symbol of strength, hope, and solidarity for the One Run runners and Boston.

 On June 6, One Run For Boston, the first-ever cross-country relay, began near Los Angeles. The brainchild of three Brits, the nonstop relay is scheduled to conclude June 30 at the Boston Marathon finish line. The relay covers more than  3,000 miles and is raising money for those most affected by the April 15 bombings at the Boston Marathon. The relay spans 14 states, and runners from the United States and beyond are running day and night to get the baton to the finish line. There are 319 stages, and each stage varies in length from as few as 5 miles to about 12. The stages can consist of one solo runner, a smaller cadre of up to 25 runners, or be a big group stage in which up to 500 runners can participate at once. It is up to each runner to decide, plan, and navigate the exact route they will take between the specified start and finish points for their stage.  

I'm pleased, honored, and humbled to let you know that the Sole Sisters and Coach B are in charge of Ohio Stage 237 -- E. Livingston Ave. outside of Columbus to Etna, Ohio. We have a 7.5 mile stretch that we have to map out and not screw up.  I can tell you now that I did have a mild freak-out session when I learned that the person who was originally taking command of our stage had dropped out, leaving me to plan the path -- from nearly three hours away. I've never been to Reynoldsburg/Pataskala, Ohio, yet here I am studying maps and charts and satellite images to make sure our little part of the 3,000 miles doesn't cause the whole relay to be thrown off track. As of right now, 22 other people are welcome to come and join us (after you donate your $50 relay fee) -- we are scheduled to step off at 9:45 a.m. on June 25. The location is near the Parkview Presbyterian Church in Reynoldsburg, Ohio (6969 E. Livingston Ave.). If you'd like join us, either leave a message in the comment section if you need more information, or just sign up for our stage at onerunforboston.org and we'll see you there.

The bombings at the Boston Marathon finish line affected me deeply, and more viscerally than any other tragic news story has since Sept. 11, 2001. I have been involved in newspaper journalism since my college days, starting around 1998. Usually, I can withstand the daily barrage of fatal car accidents, missing child cases, domestic violence incidents, and overseas terror attacks that I have to read about every single day. I guess you could say I've become hardened to it, as both a defense mechanism and as a result of overexposure. This, for me, was quite different. Coach B and I had woken up early on Marathon Monday to watch the start of the marathon, eat breakfast in bed, and take in the spectacle of the elite men and women running at their unearthly speeds. 

Rita Jeptoo and Lelisa Desisa Benti were the women's and men's champions of the 2013 Boston Marathon, finishing well ahead of the bombings.

At this time, the Glass City Marathon was about two weeks away, and Sole Sister M and I were still dreaming about qualifying for Boston 2014. For me, it was a quiet goal and I hadn't told anyone outside of our small training circle. But I dreamt of it, and was wishing for it, and every step I took was in the hopes that I would be good enough to make my qualifying time at GCM. That Marathon Monday, Coach B and I watched the conclusion of the men's and women's elites, then went back to sleep so we would be rested for work that night. I woke up around 1 or so, then hopped in the shower. When I came out, I turned on CNN like I usually do to get caught up on the news world. I heard the report of explosions before I saw them. At first I thought it was probably some car bomb in Iraq or something similar, which I'm unfortunately pretty inured to. And then I looked at the TV. And saw -- wait a second, that looks like a race course; that looks like a scene I am intimately familiar with. That looks like a finish line. I had the flash of realization: that is no desert outpost -- that is BOSTON.  That is what I'm working for, that is my goal, I was just watching this earlier this morning -- Oh, my God, what is happening here? 

I started crying, and I honestly couldn't stop. My runner friends and I texted back and forth: Have you seen what's happening? Do we know anyone there? What happened? Who's responsible? How many are hurt? People have died? Oh, my God. Just hours later, I was in the newsroom, facing reading and laying out stories about the bombing and selecting photos to illustrate all that had happened on Boylston Street. It was honestly one of the hardest days I've ever had at work -- mercifully at one point my boss saw how upset I was and sent me outside for air so I could try to gather myself.  It was like that to some degree every day up to and beyond that Friday when the bombing suspect was finally apprehended, which gave some measure of closure though the thought of both the victims still hospitalized and the fact that this storied running tradition was marred by a senseless act of violence was enough to make my blood boil. 

If there was one thing I was dead certain of, it was that these terrorists had picked the wrong subset of people to target. If you  think a runner, especially a distance runner, is going to be intimidated or back down, I'm sorry but you are very, very wrong.  Just a few days out from our marathon, we dried our tears. We redoubled our efforts. We dedicated our running to those who no longer could. We felt a fire in our bellies. We raised money. We raised awareness. We toed the start line at the Glass City Marathon. We swallowed down the lump in our throats during the moment of silence. We celebrated the starting gun. We ran our asses off. We hugged at the finish line. We screamed out with joy that we were going to Boston, baby.  

There aren't many things you can be sure of in this world, but there are two I am counting on right now. One, there will be a runner from now until June 30 making his or her way to Boston -- making a triumph out of a tragedy. And two, that third Monday in April, you will count me in Hopkinton among the thousands massed at small Massachusetts town -- ready to reclaim a storied marathon that is poised to come back, Boston Stronger. 

Be kind to yourself. Be kind to each other. -- V. 

Donut Day Dash 5K -- We Came, We Saw, We Devoured 12 Donuts ...

They said it simply couldn't be done. They said the feat shouldn't even be attempted. They said the world would have no appetite for such a stunt. Well, whoever they were (and they could just have been the voices in our head) -- they were WRONG.  

Hatched from run-addled minds less than a week ago, the Inaugural Sole Sister Donut Day Dash 5K came to fruition on National Donut Day, June 7, 2013, at Woodland Park in Perrysburg, Ohio. The challenge: Complete a 5K while stopping to eat an entire glazed doughnut every half mile, with water being available at each doughnut station to wash it down. (Milk was vetoed early, and coffee would just be too hot.) 

The day began at 7:50 a.m., with Sole Sister M stopping at V's house with the dozen doughnnuts, procured from a nearby Tim Hortons. The cashier had asked M brightly, "So, are you taking the doughnuts into the office for National Donut Day?" In response to which M smiled and said, "Well, no. We're going to run and eat doughnuts -- six of them -- while dressed up like loons at a park in a made-up two-person race that has no prizes, no medals, no T-shirts, and no spectators." The cashier then took her money, turned away slowly, and was heard to mumble something like "crazy runners ... waste of good doughnuts ... what's wrong with people ..." 

At the house, we divvied up the glazed bounty into three containers, to be strategically placed along the route. Then, we pinned on our race bibs (recycled from past 5Ks -- we thought having numbers might help us look more organized, and possibly less crazy) and donned our chosen chapeaux -- a giant foam hotdog hat for M and a sparkly pink pig cap for V. 

"You look like a pig viking," M said. 
"Excellent. I know what I'll go as for Halloween, " I replied. 

Doughnuts in tow, we made our way to the park, which was pretty much empty, except for a pair of "serious" looking runners and a couple walking the crushed-limestone perimeter. With our cell phone cameras ready to record the adventure, we trotted out a warm-up mile just to place the doughuts at the stations. We had Home Base, Station 1, and Station 2. The park started getting a little more crowded at this point (it was just past 8 a.m.), and the looks we garnered registered emotions ranging from confused to quizzical.  A cheering section of sorts assembled in the playground area -- as M ran past the swings, a young voice rang out "HOT DOG! I LOVE HOT DOGS!" And so we'd cheer along with her, to encourage her enthusiasm -- we had a feeling we'd need it by the final doughnut. 

 With the stations all set up, it was go time. Earlier, M had said she was going to really run the race hard; I had thought up a strategy that involved grabbing the doughnut, ripping it in two, and eating it on the run to save time. When push came to shove, however, we just decided to wing it. 

We dashed for the doughnuts, and the first bites were pure, sugary bliss.  It was alarming just how quickly we could down two glazed lardbombs. One set down the hatch, water sipped, and we were on the move. "HOT DOG! GO HOT DOG!" our young friend shouted. "WOOOOO!" we replied, practically skipping after the initial sugar rush hit our bloodstreams.  

"It's Donut Day! It's Donut Day," we gleefully squealed, gravel crunching underfoot like so many sprinkles on an iced cake ring. We got some thumbs up; we got some questioning glances. Yes, at this point, and even through about Doughnut Three, it was all good times. 

Ooof. And then, somewhere around Doughnut Four, the sweet treats started to stage a revolt. What had been, mere minutes before, a celebration of all that was fun and fluffy in life started to turn into a reminder that no matter how fast you try to go, you just can't outrun the weight of gluttony.  

"My fingers are all sticky -- can you pour some water on my hands?" M asked at Doughnut Five. "I feel so heavy. You could use what's in my stomach to stucco a house," I replied. And, the burping. Oh, the burping that one does after scarfing down five doughnuts is comical, crude, and absolutely necessary if you are going to be doing anything except lying on a couch somewhere. 

And then, we were down to the final challenge -- Doughnut Six awaited at Home Base. We mustered what was left of our strength (our dignity having been left at the start line), and ambled toward the picnic bench. "This is the worst station," M intoned. "I don't think I can finish this one," I replied.

"I feel sooo heavy right now ..."

"Please, tell me we're almost done..."

But, we are runners. We run through rain, we run through pain, we run through mental anguish, and by God, we were going to run through a dozen doughnuts. Why? Because we said we would, and part of being a runner is setting goals that you accomplish just for yourself. Even if they seem unattainable, or even quite ridiculous, as in this case. So, after choking down the last few bites, humming impromptu and off-key renditions of the "Rocky" theme song and "Eye of the Tiger," we celebrated National Donut Day and eating a half-dozen doughnuts apiece by ... running one more mile, doughnut-free. 

We've pretty much pledged that we don't want to see, smell, or taste another doughnut for at least six months, if not until NEXT Donut Day. 

And in case you're wondering, that whole run, which ended up being a 4 miler, took 42:35.58. Our average pace, including eating, drinking, and photography time, was about a 10:38 minute mile. The splits were: mile 1 -- 9:00, mile 2 -- 11:02, mile 3 -- 14:00, mile 4 --8:31

And: Here's how that last doughnut stop went down: 

Thank you all for tuning in to the Inaugural Donut Day 5K! 

-- The Sole Sisters 

P.S.  The Streak lives on ...