NYC Marathon PRO Compression #Giveaway

One year ago, I was anxiously awaiting my chance to run 26.2 miles through New York City’s five boroughs.

The race remains one of my favorites – not only because it’s my standing marathon PR, nor because I was blown away by the support from the crowd, friends and other racers.

I knew I had given my all. And that meant more than anything.

A big part of a successful marathon day for me, is knowing what food, clothes and routines work for me.

I wear a certain style of shorts (Oiselle distance shorts are my current race day must-have), I have to have a hat on and I need my PRO Compression marathon socks.

Nov13 to May14 076Race day duds. Love those socks

The socks rock.

I’ve been running and racing in PRO’s marathon socks for over a year, well before I became a brand ambassador several month ago. The sock help keep the blood flow in my legs. I wear them to race, on my longer training runs and for recovery after long runs – and hoo boy, do marathons count!

In short, my legs feel better. And when I feel well, I run well.


In this week’s marathon excitement — and as I ramp up to run Philly in a few weeks – I’m giving away one pair of PRO Compression marathon socks or sleeves (winner’s choice).


The giveaway ends at at the stroke of midnight on NYC MARATHON DAY (11/2). Click on the above pic to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway!

But if you wanna get shopping early, use the discount code BLG14 for 40% off marathon socks and sleeves at

Do you use compression socks? Why do you like them? What PRO Compression color, style is your fave?

Runners – they’re everywhere!

While at Kohl’s this morning, I saw a guy in a Broad Street Run shirt. Naturally, I had to approach him.

I mean, right? This is natural. Everyone does this. And if you don’t, you totally should. (Similar to the runner’s wave. If you don’t know about it, check out Ashley at RatherBeRunnin’s post.)


Approaching other runners while in a non-running setting can be a bit tricky.

Bound: Bounding up to them like a puppy off-leash for the first time is an option, but the potential to scare them off is high. I usually only bound if I know the person and they are already well aware of my brand of crazy.

Direct approach: Less scary than the Bound for the recipient. Simply walk up a person and say “Love the Broad Street Run – it was my first time running this year. Have you run it more than once?”

Sidle: The word sidle is a bit off-putting because I always picture a shady person in a trench coat sliding up next to you and offering some illegal substance.

However, in this case, it’s running and so it takes on a more casual, less Shady McShadester connotation.

Find them in an aisle. Ideally, aim for one that’s not, like, underwear or Imodium. “So, hey, I see you were at Broad Street on May 5th. Funnily enough, so was I.” (As were 39,998 others. It’s actually not that rare – I’ve seen three people wearing these shirts in the past three days.)

Mutual wearing: The best is when you’re wearing the same shirt at the same time and place. Serendipitous!

There’s that mutual recognition: you both look at the other person’s shirt, look down at your own shirt and then say something witty like “Nice shirt, where’d you get it?”

It’s absolutely glorious.

During an event: Okay, so this is a bit different because obviously at race events, you’re going to see race shirts of races past. However, I got super excited (it doesn’t take much, you’ve probably figured this out by now) during Broad Street when I saw a cheering guy on the median wearing one of these:


I felt like he was there specifically for me. As I got my high five from him I yelled out something like “Yeah, AC April Fools!” Because I’m limited to four or five word sentences while I’m running. But we totally would have been besties were I not in the middle of a race. I’m sure of it.

When I was younger, my mom talked to everyone. At the supermarket (aka the “stupidmarket” as we so brilliantly called it) she chatted it up with the people at the deli counter, in the aisles, on the checkout line – everyone. I was mortified. Do you know that person? “No,” she’d reply more often than not. “I’m just being friendly.”

Pooks is not nearly as timid as I was when I was a kid; when I approach a runner and he’s with me, he’ll chime in with his thoughts. As we walk away, he always asks if I knew the person. And I can say, with great authority, “Well, of course! We ran a race together.”

Am I missing any ways to approach a runner? Have any fun stories to share?

Whole Lotta Waiting Going On

Waiting…sucks. I tried to think of a way to put it nicely, but really, it just sucks. I know, patience is a virtue, yada yada. I have no patience. None. I don’t enter contests. I don’t know what date movies are scheduled to come out. I don’t play the lottery. I’m an immediate gratification kind of girl and I DO NOT like to wait.

Yet, here, I am, impatiently waiting.

For what? Why, I’m waiting to for the chance to run seven miles, of course.

With hills, of course.

In August, OF COURSE.

Speaking of the course…


Yeah, those were hills you just saw.

Including this one, right at the end.


I’m officially entered into the lottery for the 2013 Falmouth Road Race. And clearly, I’m insane because I’m actually hoping to get in.

I entered on the opening day of the lottery, which was a week ago, May 8th. They will notified the people that got in on May 24th.

I’ll do the math for you. That’s sixteen days of pulling my hair out. I’m going to (maybe) run (run/walk, let’s not kid ourselves) this thing bald at this rate.

This is my first lottery, and I kind of love/hate it. I know that there’s a good chance I won’t get in, being that it’s my first year and all. And I hate that, because I’m already attached to the race, in a way. But, IF I do get in, that’s going to feel so cool. And scary. Scarycool.  Still, there’s a lot of ‘if’.


IF I get in, my girl Anne is going to come run with me. (We registered as a team, so it both of us or neither of us). She has plans to time her collapse on Ben Affleck’s lawn. Clearly, she is the brains of this operation.

IF I get in, I’m going to have to train all summer. In the disgusting humidity instead of my air conditioned gym.

IF I get in, I’m probably going to have a full blown panic attack and wish it had gone the other way, at least for a couple of minutes.

But IF I get in, I’m going to run Falmouth, one of this country’s premier races, which since its initial run in 1973 with 100 people, has grown to over 10,000 runners per year.

And I might be one of them. That’s nuts.

Since I’m a total newb at race lotteries, I asked a couple of my fellow Scooters about their experience with them.

Vic: More often than not, I’m a lottery loser. I’ve thrown my hat in the ring at least half a dozen times and was only accepted once (thank you Broad Street Run for picking me so I don’t have a complete complex). But New York City Marathon rejected me three straight years. The only positive from that denial was that it ultimately gave me guaranteed entry to the road race this year.

I’m not a fan of lotteries because they toy with my emotions. Lotteries build me up and fill me with hope, then usually dash my dreams and continue to send me charity and race emails to mock me.

Yep. I’d rather just register.

Meri: Generally speaking, I’m not a huge fan of lotteries. A dollar and a dream? How about work hard and get things done! I’m not a gambling type of girl so I have a love/hate relationship with running lotteries. I love them when I get in (Broad Street Run). I hate them when I don’t (Nike Women’s Half DC). 

I understand that lotteries even the playing field for runners who are unable to sign up at a specific date and time but I suppose since I’m always able to make that happen with other races, I just feel bitter and resentful when I don’t get into a race via lottery.

Also, I don’t like waiting. I need instant gratification. Don’t toy with my emotions, running lotteries!

I think Meri is my spirit animal. And clearly, Vic and Meri have both been through this enough to make an informed opinion. I still have that babe-in-the-woods, hearts and flowers, ‘of course I’ll get in and I’ll finish in amazing time and I won’t even break a sweat’ newbie hope. Ask me how I feel if I don’t get in. (Don’t ask unless you want to hear curse words).

So, if you need me for the next 9 days, I’ll be sitting here wringing my hands, hoping the running gods smile down and let me in.

What shall I do to pass the time?

Freaking out will work quite nicely, I think.

Have you ever entered a race lottery? Did you get in? Did the waiting nearly kill you? Are you in the lottery for Falmouth this year? Tell us about it! 

Our hearts are with you, Boston

It’s hard to find words for what happened at the finish line of the Boston Marathon yesterday. When unspeakable, senseless acts like this happen, most of us can think of only one word: why?

The truth is, even if and when the person or people responsible for this are apprehended, even after a motive is revealed and justice is served, there will be no good answer to that question. How do you even begin to process the reason behind the destruction brought down on what was supposed to be a joyful event, where people were injured and killed simply because they were there to run or to cheer on their loved one as they crossed the finish line?

There will never be an answer for that kind of blind hatred.

But what we’ve seen time and time again is that goodness will always blot out the bad. In all of the horrific footage, the awful news stories that seemed to flow out endlessly through various social media platforms, there were these stories: people running to help the injured, to hold hands and offer reassurance; a Google spreadsheet that popped up online, filled with names and numbers and addresses, temporary homes for those displaced by what happened; a couple that had run the marathon, only to get married hours later.

These are the moments that invariably always rise to the surface, because good will always counteract the bad. Love will always trump hate. It is so much bigger.

We love you, Boston, and our hearts are with you.