First off, let's kick things off with a shout out to Rich, who made my YEAR by commenting on my blog. Let's all go visit his new blog at http://mydaddyisarunner.blogspot.com/. He had the misfortune of having me photobomb a few of his race photos in the Hershey Half Marathon and was kind enough to search me out and comment on my blog post!
In other news...I'm debating signing up for another marathon before 2012 hits. I'm feeling the bug pretty badly and I'm not sure if I'll be able to resist. I figure that I can get in a few 20 milers in November and do a December marathon? The only problem is that I'm late in registering, so there's not a ton of races left, ESPECIALLY in my vicinity. Doing this would probably mean going down to Florida or something and as nice as that sounds, it's probably not gonna happen. Sooo....Rehoboth or some trail run in Baltimore? Thoughts? Suggestions? The Rehoboth one happens to be the day before my Jingle All the Way 8k...but 8k is only 5 miles (not even 5 miles, just under). I think it would be totally feasible but would it be a really jerk move to do that since I signed up for the Jingle race with friends and family? Would anyone go to the beach in December to support me? I guess I may find out...I'll keep you all updated on my decision.
This weekend I'm going to go cheer on the Marine Corp Marathon runners. I'm so excited to stand on the street and yell at people for a few hours!! I was going out for a morning run yesterday and a random guy in my apartment building asked how far I was going. In general I hate that question, because I often don't know yet. I just go for as long as I feel like. So I kind of stammered and he ultimately got around to saying, "You should do the Marine Corps Marathon! I think it's next weekend." Oh, dear, poor fellow really set me up for that one. Ready for my spike? "Oh yeah. I've done that one. Twice." BAM. Right in the face!! He looked shocked (although I'm not sure why, I think I look like I run pretty steadily) and all he could muster was, "well look at you!"
Yeah that's right. Look at me! I'm a runner!
Monday, October 24, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Does 13 seconds really make a difference?
This weekend, I did the Hershey Half Marathon. It was one of the smallest races I've done (only 5,000 people). Let me tell you - small races may be the way to go. It was so personal - names on the bibs, easy to get to the starting line, convenient parking, very decongested start line. There were a LOT of spectators, which kind of surprised me, except when you think about it, people bring their whole families to the smaller races. Don't get me wrong, it was no Marine Corps Marathon. But it really was a great race. It was a gorgeous day for it and it went through the beautiful PA countryside AND through Hersheypark. They also had a chocolate aid station, which was wonderful. The schwag was pretty awesome too - a great reusable bag, cool t-shirt, 13.1 bumper sticker, and an insulated lunch box filled with goodies at the finish. I think I just might do this race again next year...
I also managed to improve my time from the Philly half marathon by 13 seconds - so I shaved off one second per mile. So I PR'ed this weekend, which made me ridiculously happy for some reason. I also was in the top 500 finishers in the race (which really only happened because it was a small race).
In other news, a 100 year old man did the Toronto marathon this weekend. FULL marathon. UNBELIEVABLE!! Can you even imagine being 100 years old and doing 26.2 miles? He said he was so happy that it only compared to his wedding day. I told this to my friend and she immediately responded with "that'll be you someday." I think that's what every runner, deep down inside, wants. Yes, we would like to win races and improve our times, but in the end it's about running as long and as much as possible. Keep going till you can't go no more!!!
I also managed to improve my time from the Philly half marathon by 13 seconds - so I shaved off one second per mile. So I PR'ed this weekend, which made me ridiculously happy for some reason. I also was in the top 500 finishers in the race (which really only happened because it was a small race).
In other news, a 100 year old man did the Toronto marathon this weekend. FULL marathon. UNBELIEVABLE!! Can you even imagine being 100 years old and doing 26.2 miles? He said he was so happy that it only compared to his wedding day. I told this to my friend and she immediately responded with "that'll be you someday." I think that's what every runner, deep down inside, wants. Yes, we would like to win races and improve our times, but in the end it's about running as long and as much as possible. Keep going till you can't go no more!!!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Fanatic?
So far, I've had several people send me an article about the woman who ran the Chicago marathon while 39 weeks pregnant (she gave birth a few hours after finishing the race). At first, I was a little confused. I am not pregnant and I was not lucky enough to run the Chicago marathon. Then I realized a great thing: when my friends and family think of marathons, they think of me.
That makes me smile.
In October 2008, I completed my very first marathon: the Marine Corps Marathon. Since then, I have completed 2 (soon to be 3) half marathons, 5 ten-milers, 10-15 10ks and 5ks, 5 marathons, 2 ultra-marathons, and one triathlon. I feel like that's a great start. Now let's keep going!!
Who wants to be on my race crew for this in 2013?
That makes me smile.
In October 2008, I completed my very first marathon: the Marine Corps Marathon. Since then, I have completed 2 (soon to be 3) half marathons, 5 ten-milers, 10-15 10ks and 5ks, 5 marathons, 2 ultra-marathons, and one triathlon. I feel like that's a great start. Now let's keep going!!
Who wants to be on my race crew for this in 2013?
Friday, September 23, 2011
How "hacer jogging" made me run
I was thinking a lot during my Philly half marathon this past weekend. I was also running super fast (for me) and clocked in at 1:46:32. Basically, 8 minute miles, back to back, for 13.1 miles. I am quite pleased :)
But what was really on my mind was my time in Spain. I studied in Madrid 5 years ago this fall and stayed with a lovely couple named Babis and Emilio. They treated me like one of their children and took extremely good care of me. They encouraged me to go out, enjoy Spain. They cooked for me, did my laundry (hung my underwear up to dry in the kitchen...), and took care of my when I was sick. I absolutely adored them.
But one thing that always irked me was how casually they viewed my running. By the time I went to Spain, I was pretty firmly invested in my running. I wasn't doing races, but I did run 3-4 times a week. I had the cool clothes, the cool shoes. I took myself somewhat seriously. So whenever it was time for me to hit the pavement, I would say that I was going to "correr." Correr in Spanish means to RUN. My host dad would always respond with how good it was to "hacer jogging." Basically cut me down a size, counter my enthusiasm for running with his belief that I was really only jogging.
Good grief, I really hated that.
It really irritated me to think that I was being classified as a "jogger" when I really believed myself to be a "runner." As someone who loves fitness in all forms, I have nothing really AGAINST joggers. It's just that I don't want to be one. I want to be a RUNNER. Jogging brings to mind velour tracksuits and soccer moms. Someday I'll be a granny and I'll jog. Now I am 25 and I wear shorty shorts and by gosh, I run. Running brings to mind athletes and wild cats. I want to be the wild cat. And during this last race, I really felt like I was. I was passing people, keeping my pace despite a nagging pull in my knee (it's totally gone, I swear). And at the end, I sprinted.
I absolutely refuse to be a jogger. I will not jog - I will only run.
But what was really on my mind was my time in Spain. I studied in Madrid 5 years ago this fall and stayed with a lovely couple named Babis and Emilio. They treated me like one of their children and took extremely good care of me. They encouraged me to go out, enjoy Spain. They cooked for me, did my laundry (hung my underwear up to dry in the kitchen...), and took care of my when I was sick. I absolutely adored them.
But one thing that always irked me was how casually they viewed my running. By the time I went to Spain, I was pretty firmly invested in my running. I wasn't doing races, but I did run 3-4 times a week. I had the cool clothes, the cool shoes. I took myself somewhat seriously. So whenever it was time for me to hit the pavement, I would say that I was going to "correr." Correr in Spanish means to RUN. My host dad would always respond with how good it was to "hacer jogging." Basically cut me down a size, counter my enthusiasm for running with his belief that I was really only jogging.
Good grief, I really hated that.
It really irritated me to think that I was being classified as a "jogger" when I really believed myself to be a "runner." As someone who loves fitness in all forms, I have nothing really AGAINST joggers. It's just that I don't want to be one. I want to be a RUNNER. Jogging brings to mind velour tracksuits and soccer moms. Someday I'll be a granny and I'll jog. Now I am 25 and I wear shorty shorts and by gosh, I run. Running brings to mind athletes and wild cats. I want to be the wild cat. And during this last race, I really felt like I was. I was passing people, keeping my pace despite a nagging pull in my knee (it's totally gone, I swear). And at the end, I sprinted.
I absolutely refuse to be a jogger. I will not jog - I will only run.
Monday, August 1, 2011
50.4 Miles
It's been 2 full weeks since the 20in24 Back On My Feet Ultramarathon. The weather was perfect. It was a beautiful, hot, sunny day in July. I ran 50.4 miles in a blissful state with absolutely no problems.
Haha just kidding. This was definitely a challenge. But I am happy to report that I pushed through and completed my goal of 50 miles!
I arrived on Friday and went to have my vitals checked. They do this just in case you run into any major problems during the 24 hour race (not that anyone ever has any problems in a situation like this). Oddly enough, the same man who checked my vitals this year was the one who did it last year. Even weirder, we remembered each other. Boy did we get a good laugh out of that. *awkward pause.*
Then my mom and I walked around Philly and got a burrito for dinner. Now before you all go nuts here, let me tell you something. I sincerely believe that a Chipotle burrito, when properly assembled, will give you far more and far superior energy than a plate of pasta. Yes. Correct. Burrito>pasta for a marathon, ultramarathon, or triathlon. Of course, I get a vegetarian one and I do not put sour cream on it. But I do include lots of beans, rice, and veggies. Combine the power of beans with the carbs of a HUGE tortilla and rice and it's a no brainer. Also, let's not be too graphic here, but it goes out easy the next morning...
I could NOT sleep the night before the race. I was going insane - I had two horrible dreams about the race. In one, I dreamed that part of the race was flooded and we had to swim it. In another, I dreamed that I had only gone 16 miles in the first 12 hours.
After finally waking up and convincing myself that the race hadn't started yet, I couldn't bring myself to eat very much. Nerves and lack of sleep put an achy rock in my stomach and no food wanted to enter. And no, this has nothing to do with my burrito. Stop it with the burrito-hating, guys. Burritos are our friends.
And then...we were off! I found my mom a shady spot to park and after she spent enough time worrying over me, I started the race in full force! I wore my spiffy camelback and a new outfit picked out just for me by my mommy. There was nothing more to want. A full day of running fun awaited me.
Except it sucked. The first lap left me hungry and tired but I knew that if I took a break already, I would want to give up. So I told the nice folks keeping time that I was heading out for another one. I waved to my mom and pressed on. And then promptly rolled my ankle. In mid stride. There was no catalyst. I just landed on my foot wrong and collapsed onto the lawn by the Rocky statue.
Overweight tourists looked at me with concern. What was this strange woman doing lying on the sidewalk with a number pinned to her chest? What was up with the backpack? Runners passed me with a quick, "are you ok?" Sure. I'm fine. I'm really having a great time here, SUCH a great time in fact, that I decided to just lie on the grass for a few minutes doubled over. I'm just PRETENDING to be in pain.
But I really wasn't interested in stopping or in a side of pity, so after the pain subsided, I kept going. Which was vaguely stupid because then my knee started to hurt, but there was nothing else to do. I could walk the half mile back to the start and take a break, but I knew that if I stopped, I'd want to go home.
After a grueling, limpy gimpy lap, I told the nice people keeping track of time that I was going to take a break. I went over to my mom and promptly, maturely started to bawl. It was a really grown up crying that consisted of, "blwarwhg washse sniffle Wanna go home!!!"
So guys, this is where it gets really deep. My mom had insisted on coming and so did my boyfriend (who smartly missed the cryfest by driving up on Saturday instead of Friday). They were both convinced that I would die if they did not come. And you know what? I would have given up if my mom hadn't been there to console me and get me to snap out of it. She told me to go get my foot wrapped (I did). She told me that I could do it (I did. Eventually). She told me I wanted it (I did). And I got back out there and I ran another two laps.
I only took two breaks - one initial break of 2 hours and then a second 1 hour break to eat. The entire race I was hungry but not hungry enough to eat. It was painful and kept my energy low. If (when) I do another one of these, I need to take MORE FOOD. Peanut butter sandwiches just won't cut it and Clif bars don't taste so great after you had 3. Or even just half of one...
But anyway back to my foot. I went to the medical tent and had them wrap my ankle (they were nice enough to tell me that 16 miles was impressive. I knew the truth. Nothing short of 50 is impressive). And then I bounded out onto the trail again, complete with ankle and knee brace. But...they wrapped it too tight. So after the first mile, I once again sat down on the grass (this time not doubled over). I yanked my shoe off and started to tear at the tape but man, they were good. After a few minutes two volunteers on bikes stopped by to assist me. However, being the good citizens that they were, they were not carrying a pocket knife. Nor did they have a pair of scissors. However, they both offered keys so there I sat, tearing away at my bandages with my entourage and their housekeys. But that didn't really do too much good and after another few minutes, the medic truck stopped by. Now these guys had some serious scissors. So by this point, I had 4 people standing over me, watching my undo my bandages. I felt a strange sense of importance and humiliation. There's really no feeling quite like it. But they didn't make me stop running and they even took my sweaty, gross bandages to throw away. This race has absolutely, hands down, THE BEST volunteers on the planet.
So I kept running/running walking and finally started pacing with an older guy. He had done 60+ ultramarathons. I was blown away. How does someone even make the time to do that many?? It definitely helped to have someone to chat with for a while and I finished my second 16 in pretty good time. At this point, boyfriend had arrived and was able to convince me to eat a little bit more.
The final lap was amazing. My mom and my boyfriend went out and paced with me, thank goodness. Philly was a dark place in the middle of the night and I was so happy not to be alone. Of course you wouldn't know that because I might have been whining most of the time (the first 40+ miles were awfully lonely without anyone to complain to). Eventually we met up with another lone ranger who was attempting 50 miles. I was one lap ahead of him and we were all shuffling together for the last few miles. I was happy that we were with him because he was all alone and it seemed unsafe. A lot of lights were out on the path and we were told that someone was mugged along the race course (yay urban running)! I felt bad that I had only to reach the finish line to finish while he would have to plow ahead...but not bad enough to go out for another jaunt with him.
When we got to the last few hundred meters, I was able to run to the finish line. I kept expecting to feel exhilirated or overjoyed or to cry from relief. But mostly I just wanted to sit down. Maybe I am not as an emotional runner as I thought. In any case, I was so happy to be done!!
Initially, I was disappointed in the medal. It's not a medal, but more of a plaque. I had really wanted something to hang around my neck, but it was not to be. However, now I'm really happy to have something unique for my 50 miles. It's sitting proudly in my apartment with a place of honor next to some cat toys. It's a nice reminder of the day, but the memories are much dearer to me. It was an insane, painful, and fun day that I never could have done without the support of my family and friends. I am excited to run 50 miles again and look forward to doing another ultra in the near futue :)
Who wants in?
Haha just kidding. This was definitely a challenge. But I am happy to report that I pushed through and completed my goal of 50 miles!
I arrived on Friday and went to have my vitals checked. They do this just in case you run into any major problems during the 24 hour race (not that anyone ever has any problems in a situation like this). Oddly enough, the same man who checked my vitals this year was the one who did it last year. Even weirder, we remembered each other. Boy did we get a good laugh out of that. *awkward pause.*
Then my mom and I walked around Philly and got a burrito for dinner. Now before you all go nuts here, let me tell you something. I sincerely believe that a Chipotle burrito, when properly assembled, will give you far more and far superior energy than a plate of pasta. Yes. Correct. Burrito>pasta for a marathon, ultramarathon, or triathlon. Of course, I get a vegetarian one and I do not put sour cream on it. But I do include lots of beans, rice, and veggies. Combine the power of beans with the carbs of a HUGE tortilla and rice and it's a no brainer. Also, let's not be too graphic here, but it goes out easy the next morning...
I could NOT sleep the night before the race. I was going insane - I had two horrible dreams about the race. In one, I dreamed that part of the race was flooded and we had to swim it. In another, I dreamed that I had only gone 16 miles in the first 12 hours.
After finally waking up and convincing myself that the race hadn't started yet, I couldn't bring myself to eat very much. Nerves and lack of sleep put an achy rock in my stomach and no food wanted to enter. And no, this has nothing to do with my burrito. Stop it with the burrito-hating, guys. Burritos are our friends.
And then...we were off! I found my mom a shady spot to park and after she spent enough time worrying over me, I started the race in full force! I wore my spiffy camelback and a new outfit picked out just for me by my mommy. There was nothing more to want. A full day of running fun awaited me.
Except it sucked. The first lap left me hungry and tired but I knew that if I took a break already, I would want to give up. So I told the nice folks keeping time that I was heading out for another one. I waved to my mom and pressed on. And then promptly rolled my ankle. In mid stride. There was no catalyst. I just landed on my foot wrong and collapsed onto the lawn by the Rocky statue.
Overweight tourists looked at me with concern. What was this strange woman doing lying on the sidewalk with a number pinned to her chest? What was up with the backpack? Runners passed me with a quick, "are you ok?" Sure. I'm fine. I'm really having a great time here, SUCH a great time in fact, that I decided to just lie on the grass for a few minutes doubled over. I'm just PRETENDING to be in pain.
But I really wasn't interested in stopping or in a side of pity, so after the pain subsided, I kept going. Which was vaguely stupid because then my knee started to hurt, but there was nothing else to do. I could walk the half mile back to the start and take a break, but I knew that if I stopped, I'd want to go home.
After a grueling, limpy gimpy lap, I told the nice people keeping track of time that I was going to take a break. I went over to my mom and promptly, maturely started to bawl. It was a really grown up crying that consisted of, "blwarwhg washse sniffle Wanna go home!!!"
So guys, this is where it gets really deep. My mom had insisted on coming and so did my boyfriend (who smartly missed the cryfest by driving up on Saturday instead of Friday). They were both convinced that I would die if they did not come. And you know what? I would have given up if my mom hadn't been there to console me and get me to snap out of it. She told me to go get my foot wrapped (I did). She told me that I could do it (I did. Eventually). She told me I wanted it (I did). And I got back out there and I ran another two laps.
I only took two breaks - one initial break of 2 hours and then a second 1 hour break to eat. The entire race I was hungry but not hungry enough to eat. It was painful and kept my energy low. If (when) I do another one of these, I need to take MORE FOOD. Peanut butter sandwiches just won't cut it and Clif bars don't taste so great after you had 3. Or even just half of one...
But anyway back to my foot. I went to the medical tent and had them wrap my ankle (they were nice enough to tell me that 16 miles was impressive. I knew the truth. Nothing short of 50 is impressive). And then I bounded out onto the trail again, complete with ankle and knee brace. But...they wrapped it too tight. So after the first mile, I once again sat down on the grass (this time not doubled over). I yanked my shoe off and started to tear at the tape but man, they were good. After a few minutes two volunteers on bikes stopped by to assist me. However, being the good citizens that they were, they were not carrying a pocket knife. Nor did they have a pair of scissors. However, they both offered keys so there I sat, tearing away at my bandages with my entourage and their housekeys. But that didn't really do too much good and after another few minutes, the medic truck stopped by. Now these guys had some serious scissors. So by this point, I had 4 people standing over me, watching my undo my bandages. I felt a strange sense of importance and humiliation. There's really no feeling quite like it. But they didn't make me stop running and they even took my sweaty, gross bandages to throw away. This race has absolutely, hands down, THE BEST volunteers on the planet.
So I kept running/running walking and finally started pacing with an older guy. He had done 60+ ultramarathons. I was blown away. How does someone even make the time to do that many?? It definitely helped to have someone to chat with for a while and I finished my second 16 in pretty good time. At this point, boyfriend had arrived and was able to convince me to eat a little bit more.
The final lap was amazing. My mom and my boyfriend went out and paced with me, thank goodness. Philly was a dark place in the middle of the night and I was so happy not to be alone. Of course you wouldn't know that because I might have been whining most of the time (the first 40+ miles were awfully lonely without anyone to complain to). Eventually we met up with another lone ranger who was attempting 50 miles. I was one lap ahead of him and we were all shuffling together for the last few miles. I was happy that we were with him because he was all alone and it seemed unsafe. A lot of lights were out on the path and we were told that someone was mugged along the race course (yay urban running)! I felt bad that I had only to reach the finish line to finish while he would have to plow ahead...but not bad enough to go out for another jaunt with him.
When we got to the last few hundred meters, I was able to run to the finish line. I kept expecting to feel exhilirated or overjoyed or to cry from relief. But mostly I just wanted to sit down. Maybe I am not as an emotional runner as I thought. In any case, I was so happy to be done!!
Initially, I was disappointed in the medal. It's not a medal, but more of a plaque. I had really wanted something to hang around my neck, but it was not to be. However, now I'm really happy to have something unique for my 50 miles. It's sitting proudly in my apartment with a place of honor next to some cat toys. It's a nice reminder of the day, but the memories are much dearer to me. It was an insane, painful, and fun day that I never could have done without the support of my family and friends. I am excited to run 50 miles again and look forward to doing another ultra in the near futue :)
Who wants in?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
No fall marathon?!?!?!
I made a foolish choice this year and hedged my bets on the New York Marathon. And I did not get in. Unfortunately, in the time it took for them to let me know, I missed registration for the Marine Corps and the Chicago marathons. Now I find that I'm somewhat uninterested in trying to find a replacement one. It seems very strange not to have one looming in the future (of course, it would be overshadowed anyway by the ultramarathon approaching this July).
So instead, I am signing up for half marathons. So far, I have one in September and one in October. One with my mom (Philly Rock N Roll) and one in Hershey, PA - chocolate AND running!!!! I am pretty pumped and I am hoping that I can improve my speed by doing a few shorter races.
This past weekend, I did a 10 mile race in Baltimore. It was a lot more hilly than expected, but I finished in 1:28:08. I am at the point where I am in the top 100 for my age/gender group and sometimes even better (placing 22nd out of 745 with a pace of 7:07/mile for a 5k). I am pretty proud of that. If I could work on my speed AND my distance, I think I could really step it up in my marathons.
The thing about that, however, is that if you want to improve your marathon time you have to actually DO a marathon...
So instead, I am signing up for half marathons. So far, I have one in September and one in October. One with my mom (Philly Rock N Roll) and one in Hershey, PA - chocolate AND running!!!! I am pretty pumped and I am hoping that I can improve my speed by doing a few shorter races.
This past weekend, I did a 10 mile race in Baltimore. It was a lot more hilly than expected, but I finished in 1:28:08. I am at the point where I am in the top 100 for my age/gender group and sometimes even better (placing 22nd out of 745 with a pace of 7:07/mile for a 5k). I am pretty proud of that. If I could work on my speed AND my distance, I think I could really step it up in my marathons.
The thing about that, however, is that if you want to improve your marathon time you have to actually DO a marathon...
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Every little thing
This morning, I went for an 8 mile run before work. It was beautiful - last night, it rained and the paths by my house were empty for the most part. Only a few other brave souls woke up and convinced themselves that it would be a good idea to go out and seize the day. I am always so glad when I do make it out in the morning, but it can definitely be a challenge.
My mom came to visit me this past weekend, therefore I was wearing a new pair of shoes (I actually got TWO new pairs of running sneakers but this isn't about bragging). The pair I was wearing this morning are amazing - they are a bright baby blue and just look so cool (since we're bragging, did I mention that my mom is the best?*). But as I was rolling along, I realized that my foot hurt. I was really in pain. I considered turning around. I saw my running life flash before my eyes. Then I remembered that when I had tied my shoes this morning, I had tied my left shoe a little bit too snugly. At the time, I didn't consider that this would cause me serious pain in the arch of my foot. But it did!! As soon as I stopped and retied the shoe a bit looser, I was fine. And finished my 8 miles.
It just goes to show how important training is. You have to learn your body's needs, you have to learn how to adapt to different situations and crises. One little thing goes wrong and suddenly you think you have to quit. It's finding a way around quitting that seperates the marathoners from the rest of the world. Come my friends. Join me.
*While we're on the subject of MamaMennone....she is going to do a half marathon with me this fall!!!
My mom came to visit me this past weekend, therefore I was wearing a new pair of shoes (I actually got TWO new pairs of running sneakers but this isn't about bragging). The pair I was wearing this morning are amazing - they are a bright baby blue and just look so cool (since we're bragging, did I mention that my mom is the best?*). But as I was rolling along, I realized that my foot hurt. I was really in pain. I considered turning around. I saw my running life flash before my eyes. Then I remembered that when I had tied my shoes this morning, I had tied my left shoe a little bit too snugly. At the time, I didn't consider that this would cause me serious pain in the arch of my foot. But it did!! As soon as I stopped and retied the shoe a bit looser, I was fine. And finished my 8 miles.
It just goes to show how important training is. You have to learn your body's needs, you have to learn how to adapt to different situations and crises. One little thing goes wrong and suddenly you think you have to quit. It's finding a way around quitting that seperates the marathoners from the rest of the world. Come my friends. Join me.
*While we're on the subject of MamaMennone....she is going to do a half marathon with me this fall!!!
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