The forecast called for a high of 88 degrees, but temps on the course on Marathon Monday exceeded that by (depending which report you prefer) one to six degrees. The BAA made the very unexpected decision to allow any runners opting not to start to defer their entry to 2013. Inexperienced marathoners were encouraged, bluntly, not to toe the line.

I should explain – the trouble with such heat during a marathon is not necessarily the heat itself. After all, all across the country and the world, runners conquer marathons and ultramarathons in 90+ degrees regularly. Rather, the alarm raised stemmed from a lack of preparedness – it takes time for a winterized runner’s body to adjust to performing in the heat. For most hot weather marathoners, the majority of training has taken place over the summer; in the case of the unseasonable climes on April 16 very few of us, after training primarily in 25-45 degrees, could be physiologically prepared for the mid-80′s.

Amid the hubbub and horror as the forecast continued to rise, I did briefly consider the BAA’s deferral offer. In my case, not wanting to commit to a third straight winter of running rather than skiing (not that I missed out on much this year, hmph), I decided that I might as well start and see how things progressed. I do, after all, have experience dropping out of marathons; having finished Boston last year, I had less to prove to myself than a first time marathoner. It was with the option of dropping out a distinct possibility in my mind that I geared up and headed to Hopkinton.

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It’s about time for a formal confession: friends, family, readers – this year, I bit off more than I could chew. Too many things, too little time, and the easiest, safest place to scale back – sadly – was KateRuns.

I had mapped out my (Gr)attitude topics, but after I fell behind almost immediately and my mother expressed dismay at my just barely touching on why I’m grateful for my rural roots, the whole scheme seemed a bit overwhelming.

But it has not been forgotten! Especially with the current forecast predicting some ludicrous race day temperatures, I know that I’m going to want to stick by my motivational plan of staying in the moment mile by mile pondering things and people for which I’m grateful. So, I’ve got some catching up to do – Miles 7 through 26.2 are still being drafted, and I promise they’ll make their way here eventually.

But first! The important stuff: bib numbers, athlete tracking and many, many thanks.

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The 20-Miler is not only the pinnacle of a marathon training program, but also a dry run for race day. The aim is to work out the kinks – what not to eat, how much coffee you can handle before a bus ride to Hopkinton, what small, neglected patch of skin really, really needs sunscreen (pro tip: your part, if you braid your hair for race days like I do).

If surviving Saturday’s 10-hour, 21-mile debacle is any indication, Marathon Monday is going to go off without a hitch.

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Last night, I needed to get out for a run; Jack was hoping to take advantage of the gorgeous weather to enjoy a drink outside.

Ever the multi-taskers, we laced up and ran five miles to the waterfront – only to take one look at the obscene lines snaking from every door, about face and retreat to an outdoor standby, Kinsale. Two large salads, two excellent beers and several terrible karaoke acts later, we snagged some Hubway bikes for the first time this season and headed for home. A beautiful run, bikes and beers with my beau? Pretty much the best of all worlds.

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Before things start to get too achy on race day, I need to consider how fortunate I am to be running a marathon again less than six months after my first run post-injury.

I’m very glad that I had a physical therapy team that didn’t laugh at me when I mentioned wanting to run Boston 2012; that understood that merely walking comfortably was not an acceptable end result; that tolerated my questions week after week; and that put me on the road to recovery, fast.

Tufts Sports Therapy for the win. Thanks, guys!

Last night after work I headed out to the Greenway for a 5k in the sunshine. My legs still felt heavy from Sunday’s (less than stellar) 14, my calves still knotted and tight. But spring has sprung! It’s official, though the official marker has never before felt particularly well-suited to the typical New England winter timeline.

I’ve already resigned myself to the expectation that this year’s marathon is going to be substantially more difficult. Physically, I’m coming back from an injury, and I’ve been unable to stay healthy for more than a few weeks at a time all season. Mentally, though I’ve covered this distance before, I’m feeling intimidated and less-prepared than last year; I’m nervous about our early spring, and what it means for race day temperatures; I’m nervous about my inconsistent long runs; I’m nervous about the fact that the last time I covered this distance was, after all, last April.

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There’s been a lot going on these past few weeks – some running, some busy business, some more (but never enough) running, some serious event planning – but let’s get back on track, shall we?

The end is near! I’ll confess that it will be a relief to cross the finish line this year, not just because I’ll be very glad to have erased my DNF status from September, and will be very ready to stop running, but also because I could use a few deep breaths that don’t involve running or fundraising. But! The exciting parts are still to come!

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Last year, weather was by far my biggest training challenge. This year, I couldn’t have asked for an easier winter – no ice, no cleats, no long runs with frozen camelbak tubes – but I just can’t stay healthy.

This is out of the ordinary for me, truly. On the whole, Jack and I are both very, very lucky to be very healthy, and I’ve been known to go several years without so much as a cold. This week though, I’ve been hit - again.

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My alarm went off at 5:30 and the house was shaking from the wind outside. I really, really didn’t want to get out of bed to run 18 miles – and yet, I was wide awake, without hitting snooze even once. So, why not?

Last Saturday, I had done everything “right,” but my 18 miles were (I’m willing to say, in light of today’s superior run) fairly miserable. This week should have been worse still, but I felt – and still feel – fantastic.

A comparison:

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This has been a week of truly lovely (if confounding) weather. Even this morning’s snow was friendly, large flakes melting on impact.

On Wednesday night, Jack and I headed out for 4.5 mild miles; Thursday over lunch, I snuck in 2.5 just because I couldn’t bear not getting out into that sunshine.

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