In which I am forced to reconsider my goals...
The Firecracker Run has been a long-standing 4th of July tradition in the Quad Cities, but in recent years, the organization has left a bit to be desired. I was happy to hear that race directors extraordinaire Joe Moreno and Dale Manley were taking over - so much that I quickly allowed Dale to draft me into volunteering the day before.
Working packet pickup was a blast. I lucked into a shift populated by friends of mine from the Cornbelt Running Club, plus we were busy pretty much the entire time. That meant moving fast, tossing t-shirts to one another, and before I knew it, time to go home! As an added bonus, Dale had special volunteer shirts for us. They were just like the race t-shirts, only red instead of blue - and both shirts are technical fabric. SCORE.
I woke up bright and surly the next morning and managed to snag the same parking spot I've had every time I have run this race in the past. As the runners milled around, I could already feel the sweat beading on my forehead. It was going to be a hot day.
The 10K course at the Firecracker Run is hilly and challenging. And of course, since the race is held on the 4th of July, you can pretty much count on it being brutally hot and humid. This makes it a perfect tune-up race for the Bix 7. I was looking forward to seeing how it went. It was not a morning when I woke up confident I was going to rock things out, so I decided to largely ignore Paula Garmin and just run by feel, then see how it worked.
Sure enough, the race was tough. I have trained pretty well on hills, so I was always able to pass people going up and felt comfortable flying down. The heat took a toll on me, and I took water 3 or 4 times - more than I probably would under better circumstances.
The last mile is a downhill (hooray), followed by a straightaway, then a turn, then about a quarter mile to the finish line. I was feeling tired. As I turned the corner, I saw a guy I recognize from the track. I don't know his name, but I think of him as Hardcore Guy. Hardcore Guy will run track workouts wearing a weighted vest, run on the football field wearing a parachute for drag, then relax by running bleachers.
Hardcore Guy was looking tired. I ran up beside him and said, "Come on. Let's go." My intention was to get Hardcore Guy to finish a little stronger, but being hardcore and all, he picked up the pace, which got me to do the same, and we sprinted to the finish. Somehow we lost track of each other in the finishing corral, but I'd like to say thanks to Hardcore Guy for making me work a little harder.
Hardcore Guy helped me push the pace, but my time was nowhere near a PR: 58:14. I'm certainly not ashamed of this time, but it made me rethink my 1:03:00 goal for the Bix. This race was on a hot day and a hilly course, neither of which are excuses I could use to say my Bix pace could be better, since the conditions would likely be the same. 1:03:00 just might not be in the cards for me this year, and I need to be okay with that. I truly lost a lot of speed coming off of the stress fracture last fall, and it will take time and work to build it back up.
Showing posts with label race reports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label race reports. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Race Report: Race for the Cure
In which I log my first DNS...
My husband Steve and I have been running Race for the Cure together for years. The race always falls some time near or on our anniversary, so it's a great time to spend together. I love the camaraderie of the atmosphere and am happy to run for such a good cause. This race would mark our fourth Quad Cities Race for the Cure, a number I can easily tally by counting the t-shirts in my head (pink and blue, pink and green, pink and ugly puce color, pink circle).
It was raining before we even left the house, and did not let up even a little bit all morning. Race for the Cure always attracts new runners and first-timers, and I was afraid that people would see the weather and stay home. Happily, that was not the case. The streets were crowded with eager runners, many of them in pink.
But the rain was the least of our problems: there was also lightning. The start time was postponed, but finally, volunteers with bullhorns directed everyone into the iwireless center. There, the race director announced that the race would have to be cancelled. He explained that after every flash of lightning, they were required to wait 30 minutes. After the last one, even if there was no more, they would no longer have the police support required for everyone to run safely. It was disappointing, but clearly, the only choice.
Steve and I took about a half mile run to get a cup of coffee. There's always next year.
My husband Steve and I have been running Race for the Cure together for years. The race always falls some time near or on our anniversary, so it's a great time to spend together. I love the camaraderie of the atmosphere and am happy to run for such a good cause. This race would mark our fourth Quad Cities Race for the Cure, a number I can easily tally by counting the t-shirts in my head (pink and blue, pink and green, pink and ugly puce color, pink circle).
It was raining before we even left the house, and did not let up even a little bit all morning. Race for the Cure always attracts new runners and first-timers, and I was afraid that people would see the weather and stay home. Happily, that was not the case. The streets were crowded with eager runners, many of them in pink.
But the rain was the least of our problems: there was also lightning. The start time was postponed, but finally, volunteers with bullhorns directed everyone into the iwireless center. There, the race director announced that the race would have to be cancelled. He explained that after every flash of lightning, they were required to wait 30 minutes. After the last one, even if there was no more, they would no longer have the police support required for everyone to run safely. It was disappointing, but clearly, the only choice.
Steve and I took about a half mile run to get a cup of coffee. There's always next year.
Race Report: Mustang Madness 5K
In which I survived the heat... kind of
Yep, I am way behind on my posting, and I need to get into what's going on, but I'd hate to leave out a race report!
A few weeks ago, determined to feel better about my unfortunate experience in Madison, I signed up for the Mustang Madness 5K. It was on a Friday evening, which is novel, but the biggest appeal was that it was a cross country race! Cross country is always way more fun than running on a road or track, so I eagerly signed up.
The night of the race, it was brutally hot and humid. I knew a PR was not in the cards for me. That instinct was cemented when I took a warm-up on the course and saw how hilly and challenging it was going to be. I always say that if I'm not going to run a good time, I might as well have a good time, so I set out to do just that.
All of us lined up on a big white line painted on the grass. I can't tell you how many times I found myself in that very position during high school cross country meets, and it was a thrill to do it again.
The course wound through trails in the woods, around sports fields, and back through the woods again. Although it was well staffed with volunteers, there were no mile markers, so I had no idea how far I'd run or how I was doing - especially because my beloved Paula Garmin was lost.
The hot weather really took a toll on me - and on my fellow runners as well. I saw plenty of people, including some who I knew were strong runners, taking walk breaks. I did the same, because just slowing down didn't seem like it would be enough. I even took advantage of the water stop, something I never do in a 5K. The water was cold and tasted amazing.
After what felt like an eternity, I emerged from the woods, finish line in sight. Finally! I kicked to the line, sure that I'd finish in around 30 minutes. I was surprised to see the number 27 on the clock. When I wasn't walking, I must have been running a lot faster than I'd realized.
After the race, people hung out, ate bananas, and generally talked about how challenging and sweaty the race was. It was tough, but I'd absolutely do it again.
Yep, I am way behind on my posting, and I need to get into what's going on, but I'd hate to leave out a race report!
A few weeks ago, determined to feel better about my unfortunate experience in Madison, I signed up for the Mustang Madness 5K. It was on a Friday evening, which is novel, but the biggest appeal was that it was a cross country race! Cross country is always way more fun than running on a road or track, so I eagerly signed up.
The night of the race, it was brutally hot and humid. I knew a PR was not in the cards for me. That instinct was cemented when I took a warm-up on the course and saw how hilly and challenging it was going to be. I always say that if I'm not going to run a good time, I might as well have a good time, so I set out to do just that.
All of us lined up on a big white line painted on the grass. I can't tell you how many times I found myself in that very position during high school cross country meets, and it was a thrill to do it again.
The course wound through trails in the woods, around sports fields, and back through the woods again. Although it was well staffed with volunteers, there were no mile markers, so I had no idea how far I'd run or how I was doing - especially because my beloved Paula Garmin was lost.
The hot weather really took a toll on me - and on my fellow runners as well. I saw plenty of people, including some who I knew were strong runners, taking walk breaks. I did the same, because just slowing down didn't seem like it would be enough. I even took advantage of the water stop, something I never do in a 5K. The water was cold and tasted amazing.
After what felt like an eternity, I emerged from the woods, finish line in sight. Finally! I kicked to the line, sure that I'd finish in around 30 minutes. I was surprised to see the number 27 on the clock. When I wasn't walking, I must have been running a lot faster than I'd realized.
After the race, people hung out, ate bananas, and generally talked about how challenging and sweaty the race was. It was tough, but I'd absolutely do it again.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Race Report: Madison Half Marathon
In which I am thoroughly humbled...
The Madison Half Marathon was a day of firsts for me.
What happened? I thought that since I race 13.1 every chance I get, that it wouldn't be a big deal for me to run one - even under bad circumstances. I was wrong.
I woke up that morning after a bad night's sleep, with my stomach cramping, feeling lousy. I felt so bad that I could only eat a few bites of my breakfast. Still, I got dressed and ready for the race, despite feeling sick and knowing that it was going to be an unseasonably hot and humid day.
Not smart.
Steve and my uncle dropped me off at the starting line and I was immediately sick. Steve came and talked to me, basically waiting to hear why in the blue hell I would still want to run the race. I convinced him that I was "probably okay," and that I actually felt better after having thrown up. This is sometimes the case - maybe I could have risked going to the office that day, but again, running 13.1 miles in really hot conditions? Not my best decision.
I tried to soak in the festive atmosphere. The marathoners started their race 20 minutes prior, and the course took them through the area where we 13.1'ers were gathered. That was very cool - watching them run was inspiring and exciting, and naturally we cheered for them like crazy. After they passed, it was time to line up.
I still didn't feel good and vowed to race carefully - run slowly, take walk breaks as needed, and get in plenty of fluids. I had already taken a walk break before the first mile and was running at the edge of the course in case I had to duck off to get sick. Not a good sign.
At mile 2, I wanted to switch from sipping on the Gatorade I had in my Fuel Belt to water. It was hot, I was feeling rough, and grabbing two cups of water felt like a good choice. The water made my stomach feel sloshy and even worse than it already did. A bad cramp seized me, and I found a semi-secluded parking lot where I tried unsuccessfully to get sick.
Running made my stomach feel worse, and I was starting to feel weak from the stomach cramps, lack of food, and the heat (already approaching 80 degrees before 9:00 AM). I made a tough decision: walk to the next aid station, then drop out of the race.
I have never, ever quit a race in the 25 years I have been a runner. It felt absolutely terrible to have to say, "No, I cannot do this. I am not strong enough, and I cannot fight through this. I cannot finish what I started, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot do this thing I have been looking forward to for months." It sucked, and I felt miserable... and still sick.
I saw a volunteer on a bike and flagged him down like I was hailing a cab. I told him that I was sick and couldn't finish the race. He calmly led me to a shady area, and as he was about to radio for support, a marathoner joined us. Her name was Tiffany, and she was dehydrated and needed to drop out as well. Volunteer Steve gave me cold water and Tiffany a bottle of Gatorade from his saddle bag and assured us that there was no shame in dropping out on a day like that.
A few minutes later, a medic on a bike joined us. He said he'd wait for the SAG wagon with us, so the bike volunteer moved on to see who he could help next. The medic checked our blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. He found my pulse to be a little weak and Tiffany's a little fast, so he kept checking us to make sure we weren't deteriorating.
While I wasn't trying unsuccessfully to be sick, I talked to Tiffany. As you can imagine, it was a bonding experience. She was running her first marathon and had been kicking ass before she started to feel so terrible, running at a 3:15 finishing pace and hoping for a BQ. As you can imagine, she was heartbroken at having to quit. I assured her that she could still do it, just not that day. It was the first hot day we've had, and not having trained in hot weather made the race much harder than it could have been. I suggested she look at a fall marathon for her BQ and hope for better weather. There will be other races.
The SAG wagon arrived after an hour. The driver apparently had been quite busy picking up fallen runners around the course and was having trouble navigating all of the roads closed for the race. She finally got us to the medical tent.
At this point, I was feeling really bad. I was hot, dizzy, weak, and my stomach was killing me. I was also depressed - the medical tent was right at the finish line, so I had to watch runners crossing the finish line looking happy and collecting their finishing medals. I would not get and did not deserve one of those medals and would not get to feel the amazing accomplishment that comes every time you cross the finish line.
In the tent, doctors and nurses quickly got me settled in. The gave me a bottle of water, put a bag of ice under my neck, checked my vital signs, and asked me questions about how I was feeling. Dr. Smith asked how long it had been since I was sick (hours at that point) and since I'd had anything to drink (also hours at that point). He said I needed to get some fluids in me and suggested that I either try drinking some water, or they'd just give me an IV. I said I'd try for the water and see how it went. He agreed that was a good decision.
Like so many things for me that day, that didn't work out for me. A few minutes later, I was dramatically sick. Dr. Smith calmly said, "Okay, an IV it is," and sent a nurse over to hook me up. Not surprisingly, she had trouble getting a vein because I was so dehydrated and admitted that there was more blood than she would have liked. My race team singlet now has blood stains to remind me of this day.
The IV had me starting to feel better. Other things that made me feel better were learning that the course conditions were so bad that the race director called the race 4 hours in. That lots of other runners had to quit as well. And the point that one of the doctors made, which was that although it was unfortunate that I couldn't finish this race, what was really important from a health standpoint wasn't the race, but all of the training I'd put in.
With the hydration of two IV bags came some clarity. I should never take my ability to run - at any distance - as a given. No matter how well conditioned I am, some days my body is just not going to cooperate, and I have to be able to accept that. And the reason I can accept that is that any single race is not the be all, end all of my running experience. As the doctor said, what's important from the point of view of my health is my training. I love the challenge and accomplishment of racing, but there will always be another race. Tiffany will finish her first marathon, and someday, she will qualify for Boston. I will race my next pikermi ("half marathon") in a few months, and when I do, I'll get to the line feeling healthy and knowing that I can finish the race strong.
Steve arrived to take me home just as I was realizing my other important lesson: the doctors who volunteer at medical tents at major races are, across the board, really hot. I am grateful for the humility and perspective this lousy experience has given to me. I am grateful that my husband will be there for me to hold my hand when I'm feeling sick. I am grateful to the volunteers who helped me - the guy on the bike, the medic, the woman who drove the SAG wagon, the nurse who gave me my IV, Dr. Hot Asian Guy, Dr. Abercrombie and Fitch Model, and Dr. Seth Meyers Only Even Hotter. I will be back, and I will be smarter.
The Madison Half Marathon was a day of firsts for me.
- First DNF
- First ride on the SAG wagon
- First trip to the medical tents
- First field-style IV
What happened? I thought that since I race 13.1 every chance I get, that it wouldn't be a big deal for me to run one - even under bad circumstances. I was wrong.
I woke up that morning after a bad night's sleep, with my stomach cramping, feeling lousy. I felt so bad that I could only eat a few bites of my breakfast. Still, I got dressed and ready for the race, despite feeling sick and knowing that it was going to be an unseasonably hot and humid day.
Not smart.
Steve and my uncle dropped me off at the starting line and I was immediately sick. Steve came and talked to me, basically waiting to hear why in the blue hell I would still want to run the race. I convinced him that I was "probably okay," and that I actually felt better after having thrown up. This is sometimes the case - maybe I could have risked going to the office that day, but again, running 13.1 miles in really hot conditions? Not my best decision.
I tried to soak in the festive atmosphere. The marathoners started their race 20 minutes prior, and the course took them through the area where we 13.1'ers were gathered. That was very cool - watching them run was inspiring and exciting, and naturally we cheered for them like crazy. After they passed, it was time to line up.
I still didn't feel good and vowed to race carefully - run slowly, take walk breaks as needed, and get in plenty of fluids. I had already taken a walk break before the first mile and was running at the edge of the course in case I had to duck off to get sick. Not a good sign.
At mile 2, I wanted to switch from sipping on the Gatorade I had in my Fuel Belt to water. It was hot, I was feeling rough, and grabbing two cups of water felt like a good choice. The water made my stomach feel sloshy and even worse than it already did. A bad cramp seized me, and I found a semi-secluded parking lot where I tried unsuccessfully to get sick.
Running made my stomach feel worse, and I was starting to feel weak from the stomach cramps, lack of food, and the heat (already approaching 80 degrees before 9:00 AM). I made a tough decision: walk to the next aid station, then drop out of the race.
I have never, ever quit a race in the 25 years I have been a runner. It felt absolutely terrible to have to say, "No, I cannot do this. I am not strong enough, and I cannot fight through this. I cannot finish what I started, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot do this thing I have been looking forward to for months." It sucked, and I felt miserable... and still sick.
I saw a volunteer on a bike and flagged him down like I was hailing a cab. I told him that I was sick and couldn't finish the race. He calmly led me to a shady area, and as he was about to radio for support, a marathoner joined us. Her name was Tiffany, and she was dehydrated and needed to drop out as well. Volunteer Steve gave me cold water and Tiffany a bottle of Gatorade from his saddle bag and assured us that there was no shame in dropping out on a day like that.
A few minutes later, a medic on a bike joined us. He said he'd wait for the SAG wagon with us, so the bike volunteer moved on to see who he could help next. The medic checked our blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. He found my pulse to be a little weak and Tiffany's a little fast, so he kept checking us to make sure we weren't deteriorating.
While I wasn't trying unsuccessfully to be sick, I talked to Tiffany. As you can imagine, it was a bonding experience. She was running her first marathon and had been kicking ass before she started to feel so terrible, running at a 3:15 finishing pace and hoping for a BQ. As you can imagine, she was heartbroken at having to quit. I assured her that she could still do it, just not that day. It was the first hot day we've had, and not having trained in hot weather made the race much harder than it could have been. I suggested she look at a fall marathon for her BQ and hope for better weather. There will be other races.
The SAG wagon arrived after an hour. The driver apparently had been quite busy picking up fallen runners around the course and was having trouble navigating all of the roads closed for the race. She finally got us to the medical tent.
At this point, I was feeling really bad. I was hot, dizzy, weak, and my stomach was killing me. I was also depressed - the medical tent was right at the finish line, so I had to watch runners crossing the finish line looking happy and collecting their finishing medals. I would not get and did not deserve one of those medals and would not get to feel the amazing accomplishment that comes every time you cross the finish line.
In the tent, doctors and nurses quickly got me settled in. The gave me a bottle of water, put a bag of ice under my neck, checked my vital signs, and asked me questions about how I was feeling. Dr. Smith asked how long it had been since I was sick (hours at that point) and since I'd had anything to drink (also hours at that point). He said I needed to get some fluids in me and suggested that I either try drinking some water, or they'd just give me an IV. I said I'd try for the water and see how it went. He agreed that was a good decision.
Like so many things for me that day, that didn't work out for me. A few minutes later, I was dramatically sick. Dr. Smith calmly said, "Okay, an IV it is," and sent a nurse over to hook me up. Not surprisingly, she had trouble getting a vein because I was so dehydrated and admitted that there was more blood than she would have liked. My race team singlet now has blood stains to remind me of this day.
The IV had me starting to feel better. Other things that made me feel better were learning that the course conditions were so bad that the race director called the race 4 hours in. That lots of other runners had to quit as well. And the point that one of the doctors made, which was that although it was unfortunate that I couldn't finish this race, what was really important from a health standpoint wasn't the race, but all of the training I'd put in.
With the hydration of two IV bags came some clarity. I should never take my ability to run - at any distance - as a given. No matter how well conditioned I am, some days my body is just not going to cooperate, and I have to be able to accept that. And the reason I can accept that is that any single race is not the be all, end all of my running experience. As the doctor said, what's important from the point of view of my health is my training. I love the challenge and accomplishment of racing, but there will always be another race. Tiffany will finish her first marathon, and someday, she will qualify for Boston. I will race my next pikermi ("half marathon") in a few months, and when I do, I'll get to the line feeling healthy and knowing that I can finish the race strong.
Steve arrived to take me home just as I was realizing my other important lesson: the doctors who volunteer at medical tents at major races are, across the board, really hot. I am grateful for the humility and perspective this lousy experience has given to me. I am grateful that my husband will be there for me to hold my hand when I'm feeling sick. I am grateful to the volunteers who helped me - the guy on the bike, the medic, the woman who drove the SAG wagon, the nurse who gave me my IV, Dr. Hot Asian Guy, Dr. Abercrombie and Fitch Model, and Dr. Seth Meyers Only Even Hotter. I will be back, and I will be smarter.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Race Report: Imagination Library 5K
In which I fail to kick ass or take names...
There were several reasons for me to run the Imagination Library 5K (a race that took place nearly two weeks ago, thus making me hugely late with this race report). I hadn't raced since the Distance Classic and I don't like to go too far between races, especially when there are so many to choose from in the spring. There was a kids' race, and it would be fun if Jack and I both raced. It was a pretty day. It's in my running club's race circuit and I really, really want to win an award again like I did last year. But the most important reason was this:
I really needed a run.
An incredibly busy week of work had me burning the midnight oil, then waking up early to burn the... morning oil? My candle burned at both ends, it would not last the night, but oh my foes and oh my friends, it made a lovely light. Poorly executed metaphors and literary references aside, I was working my ass off, and consequently had not been running in a week. I needed to get out there, open it up, and feel the burn.
Steve, Jack, and I arrived at Bass Street Landing, a lovely area in downtown Moline overlooking the Mississippi. Jack was thrilled at the contents of his goody bag, which included the usual t-shirt, plus an assortment of random stuff that will please a 5-year old - a ruler, pencils, a bookmark, and a sticker. He was even more happy to see that they were setting up a bounce house. I got warmed up and the boys found a good spot to watch the race.
I blazed through the first mile way too fast. At my next 5K (probably the June Bug Jog because - you guessed it, it's in the circuit), I swear to Yoda I am going to make myself run a negative split. Once again in this race, I completely killed the first mile, then faded. Not helping matters, I started having stomach cramps, motivating me to pick up the pace a bit just so I could be done. That's never a good sign.
I worked really hard in this race, and as I was approaching the finish line, really hoped that my efforts would be rewarded. A PR or an age group award would make my suffering justified. My finishing time? 25:10 - not nearly good enough for a PR (though my best time this spring, beating my time at Steve's Old Time Tap Spring Chaser by 34 seconds). Then I discovered that the age groups were in 10 year increments, not five, so I was in the 30-39 category. That put me sixth in my age group. I would have been second if it were 35-39, but that's not the way they gave awards at this race... and even if it had, they only gave out hardware to the first place winners in each age group. I consoled myself with a breakfast sandwich and a banana from the post-race spread.
Jack ran his 1/2 mile race in a state of utter delight. He grinned through the whole thing and triumphantly told me that he passed an 8-year old. Then he scored a finisher's medal and another goody bag, this one containing a great book. Post-race, Jack bubbled over with joy, talking about how much he loved running and wondering when his next race would be.
As always, I can learn from the little guy. If you look at the clock or at my place on the leader board, my race wasn't what I wanted. But was that what I wanted most? Nope. What I wanted most was to put on my shoes and run hard - and that's exactly what I did.
There were several reasons for me to run the Imagination Library 5K (a race that took place nearly two weeks ago, thus making me hugely late with this race report). I hadn't raced since the Distance Classic and I don't like to go too far between races, especially when there are so many to choose from in the spring. There was a kids' race, and it would be fun if Jack and I both raced. It was a pretty day. It's in my running club's race circuit and I really, really want to win an award again like I did last year. But the most important reason was this:
I really needed a run.
An incredibly busy week of work had me burning the midnight oil, then waking up early to burn the... morning oil? My candle burned at both ends, it would not last the night, but oh my foes and oh my friends, it made a lovely light. Poorly executed metaphors and literary references aside, I was working my ass off, and consequently had not been running in a week. I needed to get out there, open it up, and feel the burn.
Steve, Jack, and I arrived at Bass Street Landing, a lovely area in downtown Moline overlooking the Mississippi. Jack was thrilled at the contents of his goody bag, which included the usual t-shirt, plus an assortment of random stuff that will please a 5-year old - a ruler, pencils, a bookmark, and a sticker. He was even more happy to see that they were setting up a bounce house. I got warmed up and the boys found a good spot to watch the race.
I blazed through the first mile way too fast. At my next 5K (probably the June Bug Jog because - you guessed it, it's in the circuit), I swear to Yoda I am going to make myself run a negative split. Once again in this race, I completely killed the first mile, then faded. Not helping matters, I started having stomach cramps, motivating me to pick up the pace a bit just so I could be done. That's never a good sign.
I worked really hard in this race, and as I was approaching the finish line, really hoped that my efforts would be rewarded. A PR or an age group award would make my suffering justified. My finishing time? 25:10 - not nearly good enough for a PR (though my best time this spring, beating my time at Steve's Old Time Tap Spring Chaser by 34 seconds). Then I discovered that the age groups were in 10 year increments, not five, so I was in the 30-39 category. That put me sixth in my age group. I would have been second if it were 35-39, but that's not the way they gave awards at this race... and even if it had, they only gave out hardware to the first place winners in each age group. I consoled myself with a breakfast sandwich and a banana from the post-race spread.
Jack ran his 1/2 mile race in a state of utter delight. He grinned through the whole thing and triumphantly told me that he passed an 8-year old. Then he scored a finisher's medal and another goody bag, this one containing a great book. Post-race, Jack bubbled over with joy, talking about how much he loved running and wondering when his next race would be.
As always, I can learn from the little guy. If you look at the clock or at my place on the leader board, my race wasn't what I wanted. But was that what I wanted most? Nope. What I wanted most was to put on my shoes and run hard - and that's exactly what I did.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Race Report: Cornbelt Running Club 24 Hour Run
First things first: I did not run the Cornbelt Running Club 24 Hour Run. In fact, the idea of the race is really unappealing to me: run around a high school track for 24 hours. Whoever goes the farthest wins.
I have run two marathons, and for me, that's more than enough challenge. I have no desire to do an ultra (and I recognize that this is the kind of statement that may bite me in the butt later). And if I did run an ultra, I could more imagine doing some kind of amazing trail race, where the scenery and the terrain change. Over and over around the track sounds like some kind of torture.
But you know, who am I to think any idea my fellow runners could come up with is nutty? There are plenty of runners and non-runners who think my choices are crazy, so I do not judge those who relish the challenge of a 24 hour run.
In fact, when my running club asked for volunteers, not only did I sign up, but I signed up for the 10 PM to 1 AM shift. I figured any crowd support there might have been earlier in the day would be gone and that the runners could use some extra encouragement - and that it might be challenging for the volunteer coordinators to fill those spots.
So, instead of going to bed at my usual time, I drove to the track, with a bag packed full of blankets and warm clothes, as I had been warned that it gets cold during the night shifts.
My job was pretty simple. Every time one of the three runners I was assigned passed, I would note the time (16 hours, 30 seconds) on my sheet next to the lap number. I'd also call out the lap number to my runner, as in, "that's 205, Catherine!"
I quickly memorized what my runners looked like and what they were wearing. There was Catherine, a grey haired woman in a blue jacket, Heather, a young woman in an olive green shirt and white hat, and Pat, whose neon green arm warmers made him easy to spot. If a runner changed his shirt or put on his jacket, he'd actually tell his lap counter so we'd be sure not to miss him. The runners also let us know if they were taking a break - to eat, to go to the bathroom, or even to go take a nap - so that we would know it'd be a while before they were back around again. And when they returned to the track, they'd let us know that, too.
When my shift began, the runners were sixteen hours into the event. Most of them were walking (save the leaders, who both walked and ran), but were looking really strong and averaged a pace of 5 minutes per lap. Impressive.
I had heard that ultra events do not favor young men as much as shorter distances, and that proved to be the case at this race. The overall leader while I was there was a woman, with a 10 lap lead over her next closest competitor. With my own runners, Catherine was probably at least 25 years older than Heather, but had 15 laps on her. In an event like this, speed is a factor, but it's probably less important than smart race strategy (keeping hydrated, fed, and pacing yourself), endurance, and an immense mental toughness. Who knows - maybe Heather caught Catherine later. A lot could have happened in the six hours of the race that remained after I went home and went to sleep. (In fact, I've been checking my club's website all day, looking for results.)
While running around a track for 24 hours might sound tedious, it might also sound tedious to sit for three hours and watch someone else do it, but in fact, it was really a lot of fun. I got to know the other runners, too - Cindy, who was always smiling, Angela, who came all the way from Tennesee to run the race, Carl, whose doctor told him he couldn't run anymore and could only walk (something tells me that advice backfired on him), and the honeymooners (yes, really) who high-fived after every lap.
All of the lapcounters cheered for the milestones all of the runners hit. We'd go crazy for someone passing, say, the 75 mile mark. Any runner who makes 246 laps gets a plaque, so that was a big cause for celebration, followed by another at 247, when the runner completed 100K. By the time I left, Pat and Catherine had already earned their plaques, and Heather was well on her way.
About halfway through my shift, Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. I started thinking about what a cool challenge the race really is. Would I have the determination to keep going for so long? What an amazing test of mental resiliance and fortitude. But don't worry - I talked myself out of it by remembering how after my first marathon, I could barely walk for a week, to say nothing of the training hours it takes. Nope, for me, for now, I'm going to continue to kick ass at distances of 13.1 miles or less. But for anyone who's thinking about taking on the challenge of next year's 24 Hour Run? I'll see you between 10 PM and 1 AM next year. Now that I've seen this event in action, I wouldn't miss being a part of it.
I have run two marathons, and for me, that's more than enough challenge. I have no desire to do an ultra (and I recognize that this is the kind of statement that may bite me in the butt later). And if I did run an ultra, I could more imagine doing some kind of amazing trail race, where the scenery and the terrain change. Over and over around the track sounds like some kind of torture.
But you know, who am I to think any idea my fellow runners could come up with is nutty? There are plenty of runners and non-runners who think my choices are crazy, so I do not judge those who relish the challenge of a 24 hour run.
In fact, when my running club asked for volunteers, not only did I sign up, but I signed up for the 10 PM to 1 AM shift. I figured any crowd support there might have been earlier in the day would be gone and that the runners could use some extra encouragement - and that it might be challenging for the volunteer coordinators to fill those spots.
So, instead of going to bed at my usual time, I drove to the track, with a bag packed full of blankets and warm clothes, as I had been warned that it gets cold during the night shifts.
My job was pretty simple. Every time one of the three runners I was assigned passed, I would note the time (16 hours, 30 seconds) on my sheet next to the lap number. I'd also call out the lap number to my runner, as in, "that's 205, Catherine!"
I quickly memorized what my runners looked like and what they were wearing. There was Catherine, a grey haired woman in a blue jacket, Heather, a young woman in an olive green shirt and white hat, and Pat, whose neon green arm warmers made him easy to spot. If a runner changed his shirt or put on his jacket, he'd actually tell his lap counter so we'd be sure not to miss him. The runners also let us know if they were taking a break - to eat, to go to the bathroom, or even to go take a nap - so that we would know it'd be a while before they were back around again. And when they returned to the track, they'd let us know that, too.
When my shift began, the runners were sixteen hours into the event. Most of them were walking (save the leaders, who both walked and ran), but were looking really strong and averaged a pace of 5 minutes per lap. Impressive.
I had heard that ultra events do not favor young men as much as shorter distances, and that proved to be the case at this race. The overall leader while I was there was a woman, with a 10 lap lead over her next closest competitor. With my own runners, Catherine was probably at least 25 years older than Heather, but had 15 laps on her. In an event like this, speed is a factor, but it's probably less important than smart race strategy (keeping hydrated, fed, and pacing yourself), endurance, and an immense mental toughness. Who knows - maybe Heather caught Catherine later. A lot could have happened in the six hours of the race that remained after I went home and went to sleep. (In fact, I've been checking my club's website all day, looking for results.)
While running around a track for 24 hours might sound tedious, it might also sound tedious to sit for three hours and watch someone else do it, but in fact, it was really a lot of fun. I got to know the other runners, too - Cindy, who was always smiling, Angela, who came all the way from Tennesee to run the race, Carl, whose doctor told him he couldn't run anymore and could only walk (something tells me that advice backfired on him), and the honeymooners (yes, really) who high-fived after every lap.
All of the lapcounters cheered for the milestones all of the runners hit. We'd go crazy for someone passing, say, the 75 mile mark. Any runner who makes 246 laps gets a plaque, so that was a big cause for celebration, followed by another at 247, when the runner completed 100K. By the time I left, Pat and Catherine had already earned their plaques, and Heather was well on her way.
About halfway through my shift, Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. I started thinking about what a cool challenge the race really is. Would I have the determination to keep going for so long? What an amazing test of mental resiliance and fortitude. But don't worry - I talked myself out of it by remembering how after my first marathon, I could barely walk for a week, to say nothing of the training hours it takes. Nope, for me, for now, I'm going to continue to kick ass at distances of 13.1 miles or less. But for anyone who's thinking about taking on the challenge of next year's 24 Hour Run? I'll see you between 10 PM and 1 AM next year. Now that I've seen this event in action, I wouldn't miss being a part of it.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Race Report: Steve's Old Time Tap Chaser
This year, like last year, I ran the Steve's Old Time Tap Chaser knowing it would not be a good time to go for a PR. The race is held the Saturday before my running club has a training run for the Quad Cities Distance Classic Pikermi (half marathon) the very next morning. Making sure that run goes well is more important to me than a random 5K.
Said random 5K makes it extra easy for you to look upon it as a good time when, at packet pickup, they ask, "Do you want a wristband for free beer?" Friends, I did not go to college for four years and not know the correct answer to that one.
I arrived for the race and immediately found a friend/fellow racing team member to hang out with. She, too, was looking to just have an enjoyable run, as she is tapering for the Flying Pig Marathon. I also ran into a bunch of women who had run the Boston Marathon earlier in the week and weren't feeling their speediest... but like me, figured they might as well get in a 5K, especially since it counted as points towards the club's circuit (award which totals up race participation throughout the year). My sentiments exactly! So, we relaxed, talked about upcoming races, and compared outfits until it was time to start.
I cranked Lady Gaga and engaged in a mix between running, people watching, and trying to think of what kind of outfit Lady Gaga would wear to go running. I think it would be a ridiculous amount of spandex in an attempt to make herself as aerodynamic as possible and might cover her entire head.
Last year when I ran this race, the short but steep hill right after the first mile threw me, but this time I knew it was coming and zipped over it, passing a bunch of runners in the process and increasing my lead using the long downhill that followed it. I love knowing the course - and knowing that there was a straightaway for about half a mile leading up to the finish line where I could begin a nice, steady surge. Last year, I missed out on an age group award by literally one second. The other woman kicked past me to the finish line and I didn't fight her. I didn't know if I was in contention for an age group award this time around, but I did not want a repeat of that performance. I focused on every single woman in the field of vision in front of me and took them down in that last half mile. Looking at the results later, none of them were in my age group (the next woman was over a minute behind me), but hey - that kind of effort never hurts, right?
Finishing time: 25:44, two seconds faster than my 5K time from the previous week at Run for Renewal. Since Run for Renewal was hill-tastic and this one was pretty flat, I was definitely running more relaxed.
I met up with some friends after the race. Although I'd grabbed the wrist band the day before, I really didn't plan on having a beer at 9:30 in the morning. But then one of them said, "Come on, let's go get a beer." How could I stand up to such a persuasive argument as that? I am not made of stone, people.
Beer early in the morning after a run is good fun and leads to your listening to a couple of fellow runners discussing their upcoming plans to get boob jobs. Fascinating stuff, and a mystery to me as to why any female runner would want bigger boobs, which would just get in the way.
Better still, last year's race was redeemed when I found out that I came in third for my age group - and scored a pint glass for my efforts. What a good way to spend a Saturday!
Said random 5K makes it extra easy for you to look upon it as a good time when, at packet pickup, they ask, "Do you want a wristband for free beer?" Friends, I did not go to college for four years and not know the correct answer to that one.
I arrived for the race and immediately found a friend/fellow racing team member to hang out with. She, too, was looking to just have an enjoyable run, as she is tapering for the Flying Pig Marathon. I also ran into a bunch of women who had run the Boston Marathon earlier in the week and weren't feeling their speediest... but like me, figured they might as well get in a 5K, especially since it counted as points towards the club's circuit (award which totals up race participation throughout the year). My sentiments exactly! So, we relaxed, talked about upcoming races, and compared outfits until it was time to start.
I cranked Lady Gaga and engaged in a mix between running, people watching, and trying to think of what kind of outfit Lady Gaga would wear to go running. I think it would be a ridiculous amount of spandex in an attempt to make herself as aerodynamic as possible and might cover her entire head.
Last year when I ran this race, the short but steep hill right after the first mile threw me, but this time I knew it was coming and zipped over it, passing a bunch of runners in the process and increasing my lead using the long downhill that followed it. I love knowing the course - and knowing that there was a straightaway for about half a mile leading up to the finish line where I could begin a nice, steady surge. Last year, I missed out on an age group award by literally one second. The other woman kicked past me to the finish line and I didn't fight her. I didn't know if I was in contention for an age group award this time around, but I did not want a repeat of that performance. I focused on every single woman in the field of vision in front of me and took them down in that last half mile. Looking at the results later, none of them were in my age group (the next woman was over a minute behind me), but hey - that kind of effort never hurts, right?
Finishing time: 25:44, two seconds faster than my 5K time from the previous week at Run for Renewal. Since Run for Renewal was hill-tastic and this one was pretty flat, I was definitely running more relaxed.
I met up with some friends after the race. Although I'd grabbed the wrist band the day before, I really didn't plan on having a beer at 9:30 in the morning. But then one of them said, "Come on, let's go get a beer." How could I stand up to such a persuasive argument as that? I am not made of stone, people.
Beer early in the morning after a run is good fun and leads to your listening to a couple of fellow runners discussing their upcoming plans to get boob jobs. Fascinating stuff, and a mystery to me as to why any female runner would want bigger boobs, which would just get in the way.
Better still, last year's race was redeemed when I found out that I came in third for my age group - and scored a pint glass for my efforts. What a good way to spend a Saturday!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Race Report: Run for Renewal
Saturday morning was race day at Stately Wasser Manor, with my running a 5K and Jack running the 1/2 mile kids' race for Run for Renewal, a fundraiser for a charity called Project Renewal that helps at-risk kids. The Cub and I fueled up with a carb-tastic breakfast of doughnuts, then crew leader Steve drove us to the race. It was a beautiful day - cool, with not a cloud in the sky.
Jack's race was first, and he could not have been more excited. Steve asked if they could please run together, since Jack got to run with me at his last race. I grabbed the video camera and found a spot along the course with fellow race crew members Grandma and Grandpa so we could cheer. Steve reported that Jack followed his surge/relent/surge pattern throughout the entire 1/2 mile. Apparently even splits are not a goal that a five year old aspires to. When the race was over, Jack scored a frisbee and a coloring book. He was absolutely thrilled with himself, and I was proud of him too, especially seeing the big smile on his face as he sprinted to the finish.
I had never done Run for Renewal before, but saw the course described as "a couple of hills, but mostly flat." No problem, especially because I've been training on hills. I took off, with the goal of running comfortably hard and besting my most recent 5K time of 26:20 at the St. Patrick's Day 5K.
About half a mile into the race, we hit a wicked hill, just ridiculously steep. Spectators stood at the top, encouraging us, and saying that with this hill, the hardest part was over. Good, because that? Was not easy. Then I looked ahead and saw that those spectators had a different idea of what the hardest part might be than I did: another hill, not quite as vertically steep, but probably a quarter of a mile long. I powered through it.
The course wove through some more neighborhoods. Entertainment was provided by two women who lived on the course and yelled back and forth across the street together wondering what the hell all of these people were doing running down their road and that if it didn't stop soon, they would be calling the police.
I knew that the course formed a big loop, so I figured that the uphill would be followed at some point by a really sweet downhill. Sure enough, there was one, but then about half a mile from the finish line, inexplicably, there was another uphill. Gah!
Finally, I turned a corner. In my sights were not only the finish line, but also my race crew - and a guy I could potentially pass. We all know that no matter what, I would have done my best to chick that dude into the finish line, but with my family watching? That guy had no chance. I zipped past him for a strong finish of 25:45.
My splits were pretty good:
Mile 1: 8:25
Mile 2: 8:46 (apparently I was tired from those hills)
Mile 3: 8:07
Last little .1: 0:27 (5:44 pace, baby)
I will definitely run this race again. 5Ks are usually pancake flat, so I liked having the challenge of the hills. And I'm sure Jack would be happy to run for another frisbee.
Jack's race was first, and he could not have been more excited. Steve asked if they could please run together, since Jack got to run with me at his last race. I grabbed the video camera and found a spot along the course with fellow race crew members Grandma and Grandpa so we could cheer. Steve reported that Jack followed his surge/relent/surge pattern throughout the entire 1/2 mile. Apparently even splits are not a goal that a five year old aspires to. When the race was over, Jack scored a frisbee and a coloring book. He was absolutely thrilled with himself, and I was proud of him too, especially seeing the big smile on his face as he sprinted to the finish.
I had never done Run for Renewal before, but saw the course described as "a couple of hills, but mostly flat." No problem, especially because I've been training on hills. I took off, with the goal of running comfortably hard and besting my most recent 5K time of 26:20 at the St. Patrick's Day 5K.
About half a mile into the race, we hit a wicked hill, just ridiculously steep. Spectators stood at the top, encouraging us, and saying that with this hill, the hardest part was over. Good, because that? Was not easy. Then I looked ahead and saw that those spectators had a different idea of what the hardest part might be than I did: another hill, not quite as vertically steep, but probably a quarter of a mile long. I powered through it.
The course wove through some more neighborhoods. Entertainment was provided by two women who lived on the course and yelled back and forth across the street together wondering what the hell all of these people were doing running down their road and that if it didn't stop soon, they would be calling the police.
I knew that the course formed a big loop, so I figured that the uphill would be followed at some point by a really sweet downhill. Sure enough, there was one, but then about half a mile from the finish line, inexplicably, there was another uphill. Gah!
Finally, I turned a corner. In my sights were not only the finish line, but also my race crew - and a guy I could potentially pass. We all know that no matter what, I would have done my best to chick that dude into the finish line, but with my family watching? That guy had no chance. I zipped past him for a strong finish of 25:45.
My splits were pretty good:
Mile 1: 8:25
Mile 2: 8:46 (apparently I was tired from those hills)
Mile 3: 8:07
Last little .1: 0:27 (5:44 pace, baby)
I will definitely run this race again. 5Ks are usually pancake flat, so I liked having the challenge of the hills. And I'm sure Jack would be happy to run for another frisbee.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Race Report: Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon
Let's get this out of the way first of all: I ran the Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon (Pikermi/Trisko/13.1) in 2:10:31, scoring a new official Personal Worst at the distance... and am very happy with how I ran.
From the beginning, I knew this race wasn't going to be a PR. My stress fracture last fall scared me, and I've been very cautious about easing my way back into training. Not only have I been devoted to the 10% rule, but I have also been careful about not upping the intensity too much. I want to run faster, but more than anything, I want to run. If it takes a while to get back into the shape that let me PR last spring, so be it.
The week prior to the race, I hit another stumbling block: the first beautiful days of spring. You'd think this would be good news, but not for me. Those first beautiful days of spring mean my allergies are at their absolute worst. Despite drugging myself within an inch of my life, I couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep, and felt dry headed and miserable for the four days before the race. It was to the point that I was blowing my nose so often, it started to chafe. (FYI: Body Glide helps with this, too.)
So, let's just say that when I toed the line, I wasn't feeling like a million bucks. I felt like about a buck fifty. Instead of having a time goal, I decided to have an effort goal. And that goal was based on my new hat. Check it out:
It's from Endorphin Warrior (not compensating me in any way for promoting them, not that I'd mind if they did!) and I love it. The message is RELENTLESS but because of the colors of the letters, it also tells you to RELENT LESS. I was determined in this race to give it everything I had and to relent less.
So, the race is in Springfield, Illinois, and pretty much everything is all about Abraham Lincoln. The race course goes past a number of Lincoln sites - the Lincoln home, the new library and museum, the old and new State Capitol buildings, and Lincoln's tomb. An actor portraying Lincoln started us off with an in-character speech, then a group dressed as Union soldiers fired their rifles to start. The course was very pretty and well marked. It got challenging at the end as the formerly flat course turned hilly. I started to get worn out, but I kept remembering my goal: RELENT LESS.
When I crossed the finish line, I knew I'd left everything I had on the course. 2:10:31 was my slowest ever time, but it was also the absolute best I could have done on that day, and that is an accomplishment I can be proud of.
To mark my accomplishment? A finisher's medal shaped like a giant penny. What better momento could you ask for?
From the beginning, I knew this race wasn't going to be a PR. My stress fracture last fall scared me, and I've been very cautious about easing my way back into training. Not only have I been devoted to the 10% rule, but I have also been careful about not upping the intensity too much. I want to run faster, but more than anything, I want to run. If it takes a while to get back into the shape that let me PR last spring, so be it.
The week prior to the race, I hit another stumbling block: the first beautiful days of spring. You'd think this would be good news, but not for me. Those first beautiful days of spring mean my allergies are at their absolute worst. Despite drugging myself within an inch of my life, I couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep, and felt dry headed and miserable for the four days before the race. It was to the point that I was blowing my nose so often, it started to chafe. (FYI: Body Glide helps with this, too.)
So, let's just say that when I toed the line, I wasn't feeling like a million bucks. I felt like about a buck fifty. Instead of having a time goal, I decided to have an effort goal. And that goal was based on my new hat. Check it out:
It's from Endorphin Warrior (not compensating me in any way for promoting them, not that I'd mind if they did!) and I love it. The message is RELENTLESS but because of the colors of the letters, it also tells you to RELENT LESS. I was determined in this race to give it everything I had and to relent less.
So, the race is in Springfield, Illinois, and pretty much everything is all about Abraham Lincoln. The race course goes past a number of Lincoln sites - the Lincoln home, the new library and museum, the old and new State Capitol buildings, and Lincoln's tomb. An actor portraying Lincoln started us off with an in-character speech, then a group dressed as Union soldiers fired their rifles to start. The course was very pretty and well marked. It got challenging at the end as the formerly flat course turned hilly. I started to get worn out, but I kept remembering my goal: RELENT LESS.
When I crossed the finish line, I knew I'd left everything I had on the course. 2:10:31 was my slowest ever time, but it was also the absolute best I could have done on that day, and that is an accomplishment I can be proud of.
To mark my accomplishment? A finisher's medal shaped like a giant penny. What better momento could you ask for?
Monday, March 15, 2010
Race Report: St. Patrick's Day 5K
I ran the St. Patrick's Day 5K for the first time last year. I didn't really love the race, but I did love the fact that I got a sweet, sweet PR (23:44).
That time loomed large as I warmed up for the race. The fact of the matter is, I am not as fast as I was last year. The injury to my left shin last fall forced me to take quite a lot of time off, and I have been returning to running - and to speed work - very carefully and gradually. Last spring, I went into half marathon/trisko season chasing a PR and nailed it. My first trisko/half marathon of the 2010 season is The Abe Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon on April 4, and as much as I'd like to PR, I just don't know if I can do it. This race, I figured, would be a good way to set expectations.
The temperature was in the 40s, rainy, and a bit windy. That kind of weather yields a wide variety of clothing choices from other runners. I wore tights, a long sleeved shirt with my racing team singlet over it, and my racing team jacket. Teammate Missy wore the same thing, without the jacket, and Penny sported shorts. As always, the guys wore less - Frank just did the singlet and shorts, and I was cold just looking at him. Of course, the people who ran the race dressed as leprechauns probably would have done so regardless. In retrospect, I think Missy's outfit was perfect. By the time I finished the race, I was a bit hot, but not so hot that I would have wanted bare arms or legs.
We took off, and as I approached the first mile, I felt totally worn out. When I heard my split time, I knew why: 7:45. Way too fast! I made an effort to relax and slow down in the second mile, which I did, big time, at 8:48. By the third mile, I felt like I was crawling, though apparently I wasn't - 8:35. I sped up a bit for that last .1 and finished in 26:20. That's a totally respectable race time... if you don't know how much faster I ran it the year before.
I am really trying to keep things in perspective. When I finish my half marathon/trisko in a few weeks, the most important thing is for me to cross the finish line knowing I have done the best I possibly could on that day. Last spring, that was 1:56:51. This year, I am hoping for 2:05. It won't be my best ever, but it can be my best of the day.
That time loomed large as I warmed up for the race. The fact of the matter is, I am not as fast as I was last year. The injury to my left shin last fall forced me to take quite a lot of time off, and I have been returning to running - and to speed work - very carefully and gradually. Last spring, I went into half marathon/trisko season chasing a PR and nailed it. My first trisko/half marathon of the 2010 season is The Abe Lincoln Memorial Half Marathon on April 4, and as much as I'd like to PR, I just don't know if I can do it. This race, I figured, would be a good way to set expectations.
The temperature was in the 40s, rainy, and a bit windy. That kind of weather yields a wide variety of clothing choices from other runners. I wore tights, a long sleeved shirt with my racing team singlet over it, and my racing team jacket. Teammate Missy wore the same thing, without the jacket, and Penny sported shorts. As always, the guys wore less - Frank just did the singlet and shorts, and I was cold just looking at him. Of course, the people who ran the race dressed as leprechauns probably would have done so regardless. In retrospect, I think Missy's outfit was perfect. By the time I finished the race, I was a bit hot, but not so hot that I would have wanted bare arms or legs.
We took off, and as I approached the first mile, I felt totally worn out. When I heard my split time, I knew why: 7:45. Way too fast! I made an effort to relax and slow down in the second mile, which I did, big time, at 8:48. By the third mile, I felt like I was crawling, though apparently I wasn't - 8:35. I sped up a bit for that last .1 and finished in 26:20. That's a totally respectable race time... if you don't know how much faster I ran it the year before.
I am really trying to keep things in perspective. When I finish my half marathon/trisko in a few weeks, the most important thing is for me to cross the finish line knowing I have done the best I possibly could on that day. Last spring, that was 1:56:51. This year, I am hoping for 2:05. It won't be my best ever, but it can be my best of the day.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Race Report: Chili Chase
One sure way to kick those winter running doldrums is to sign up for a race. I ran the Chili Chase two years ago and had a great time, so I decided to run it again. And as an added bonus, this was my first race as a member of the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team! I felt very proud to put on my uniform and was determined to do my team proud.I arrived early to help out with registration. I helped give out the technical socks that the race director offered in lieu of t-shirts. It's always great to have another pair of good running socks, plus these had a very cool bright green band on them with a little chili pepper. As an extra, we also had running gloves to give out. People loved the gloves, a simple lightweight cotton that are perfect on a day when it's cold, but not too cold. Volunteering was a lot of fun. I got to hang out with a cool group of people, plus I was able to say hello to lots of my fellow runners.
Fifteen minutes before race time, I said goodbye to the other volunteers working the table and went outside to warm up. The temperature was cold, in the 20s, but I was careful not to over dress for it, wearing tights, wind pants, a long-sleeved technical t with my team singlet over it, and my team jacket. For the first time, I pinned my race number to my leg, rather than to my shirt, in case I needed to unzip my jacket. It snowed later in the day, but luckily there were no weather obstacles on the course, save for one tiny patch of packed snow - with a volunteer whose job it was to tell everyone to be careful.
All the runners gathered at the starting line, which went down a long medium-steep hill. The race director warned us that what goes down must go up - in other words, enjoy this downhill, because you'll be running up it to the finish line.
I wasn't sure how the race was going to go. I have struggled to get in quality speed work this winter. The tracks aren't clear, and it's hard to do speed consistently on the road because the combination of ice, packed snow, loose snow, and slushy mess makes footing unpredictable. I am training for a half marathon in April, and I know I'll have the stamina, but I don't know how fast I'll go. So, I decided to relax, work hard on the hills, and see what happened. I put Paula Garmin on under my jacket so I could look if I wanted to, but not be distracted by my pace.
We took off, and it was a great time. There was an out and back portion of the course, so my fellow runners, friends, and team members and I cheered for each other as we went by.
In the last mile, things started to get interesting. I could see several runners ahead of me who were struggling with the hills. I have been training on hills all winter, but even without that advantage, I always try to pass people on hills whenever possible. It's a psychological thing; I can see other people are having trouble, and I tell myself (whether it's true or not) that I am strong on hills and can beat people.
I picked off three runners who were slowing down, then set my sights on more and more of them. I probably passed five or six runners in the last mile. In the end, I crossed the line with a time I was very happy with: 35:32.
The post-race party for the Chili Chase is always fun. There's great food - bbq sandwiches, chili, and beer. I had a bite to eat and hung out with friends. Out of curiosity, I checked the results to see where I placed. To my surprise, my effort was good for 34th place... super cool because the race director doesn't do age group awards for this race, but rather gives out awards for the overall top 35! I just made it. Better still, instead of a trophy, I got a bright green travel coffee mug with a chili pepper on it.
It was a great way to spend a Sunday and has me feeling good about the year of racing ahead.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Race Report: Frostbite Footrace 8K
Where we last left off, I was taking an unplanned rest day thanks to an achy knee, but still determined to run the 8K Frostbite Footrace to see how it felt.
I took some Advil and headed for the race, hoping for the best. The place was buzzing with runner friends of mine, including Sara and Jen, who I hadn't seen in months. I think everyone was excited about the first local race of the year - and the fact that the weather was so nice. Several people enthused about how warm it was, and that the weather should not be a factor at all in anyone's performance.
For those of you who don't live in the midwest, the temperature was about 20 degrees. Only a cold weather runner could look at a day like that and be happy to be running outside.
I lined up with Sara and Jen. "Are you ready for this?" they asked. I said that honestly, I probably wasn't. Because of my knee problems, I planned to run a relaxed race and see how I felt. I figured chances were pretty good that I'd end up having to take off another several days. I put my Garmin in my pocket so that I wouldn't be distracted by my pace, which I figured wout be slow.
And, bang! We were off! Jen, Sara, and I leapfrogged back and forth for the first 2 and a half miles - the two of them running together and me by myself (they're sisters and tend to stick together). The two of them stopped for water, and as I passed them, Jen said, "See, Sara? That's what you get for stopping. Now she's ahead of us."
Not for long, though, and the two of them passed me again.
I'll be honest: a huge part of me wanted to beat them. No matter what, it's hard to shut down that competitive spirit. But an even bigger part of me wanted my knee to not be hurt. The months I took off for my injured shin really bummed me out. So, I relaxed and tried my best to run my own race.
At about the halfway point, Jen pulled ahead of Sara and I caught up to her. Sara said she was okay and told me to go after Jen. I did my best, but it wasn't meant to be this time around. Sara was close behind me for quite a while, so I warned her about some of the big hills.
After a while, she was too far behind me... and Jen was too far in front of me. I was on my own. The race ends with a climb up a long, not too steep hill. I pushed it hard to the top, remembering how windy that same climb was last year.
Finally, I kicked it past another runner and into the chute. My finishing time astonished me - just shy of 45 minutes! That was far faster than I'd thought I was going; I guess keeping my Garmin in my pocket paid off, because otherwise, I might have slowed down.
Best of all? My knee is totally fine. On to the next run!
I took some Advil and headed for the race, hoping for the best. The place was buzzing with runner friends of mine, including Sara and Jen, who I hadn't seen in months. I think everyone was excited about the first local race of the year - and the fact that the weather was so nice. Several people enthused about how warm it was, and that the weather should not be a factor at all in anyone's performance.
For those of you who don't live in the midwest, the temperature was about 20 degrees. Only a cold weather runner could look at a day like that and be happy to be running outside.
I lined up with Sara and Jen. "Are you ready for this?" they asked. I said that honestly, I probably wasn't. Because of my knee problems, I planned to run a relaxed race and see how I felt. I figured chances were pretty good that I'd end up having to take off another several days. I put my Garmin in my pocket so that I wouldn't be distracted by my pace, which I figured wout be slow.
And, bang! We were off! Jen, Sara, and I leapfrogged back and forth for the first 2 and a half miles - the two of them running together and me by myself (they're sisters and tend to stick together). The two of them stopped for water, and as I passed them, Jen said, "See, Sara? That's what you get for stopping. Now she's ahead of us."
Not for long, though, and the two of them passed me again.
I'll be honest: a huge part of me wanted to beat them. No matter what, it's hard to shut down that competitive spirit. But an even bigger part of me wanted my knee to not be hurt. The months I took off for my injured shin really bummed me out. So, I relaxed and tried my best to run my own race.
At about the halfway point, Jen pulled ahead of Sara and I caught up to her. Sara said she was okay and told me to go after Jen. I did my best, but it wasn't meant to be this time around. Sara was close behind me for quite a while, so I warned her about some of the big hills.
After a while, she was too far behind me... and Jen was too far in front of me. I was on my own. The race ends with a climb up a long, not too steep hill. I pushed it hard to the top, remembering how windy that same climb was last year.
Finally, I kicked it past another runner and into the chute. My finishing time astonished me - just shy of 45 minutes! That was far faster than I'd thought I was going; I guess keeping my Garmin in my pocket paid off, because otherwise, I might have slowed down.
Best of all? My knee is totally fine. On to the next run!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Race Report: Hawk Hustle
Saturday marked the third time I've run the Hawk Hustle. Every time it's happened, things haven't gone quite according to plan.
The first year, I hadn't planned to run a race at all that day. I signed up spontaneously and had a great time... but the hills kicked my butt.
The second year, I slacked off on my training and suffered for it. Despite a tough race, I came home with a second place trophy for my age group and promised myself that in year three, I'd be prepared.
That brings us to that third year. Thanks to the injury in my shin, I was lucky to be able to run at all, much less train hard on hills and rock it out like I'd planned to.
Still, I took the line feeling excited. I had a new plan: run a smart, tough race. Four miles would be the longest I'd run since my ill-fatedhalf marathon trisko. Knowing how challenging and hilly the course was, I planned to make judicious use of walk breaks. Short steep hills I'd tackle; long slow slopes would be broken up with walks. My finishing time? Irrelevant. I just wanted to get through the race.
Ready? Go!
The first mile featured a few giant downhills, which I used to build up momentum and zip up some uphills. It was one of the easier miles of the course, so I ran the whole thing in a surprisingly fast 9:05.
Shortly after the first mile marker was one of those gradual uphills. I did a brisk walk in the middle for 9:36. It must have been a short break.
By the third mile, the course was getting tougher and I was getting more tired. A couple of walk breaks slowed me to 10:06.
Mile four is the toughest of the course and was also my slowest at 10:15. With half a mile to go, runners head up a very steep hill, and just when you think it's over, the trail turns and you're confronted with yet more trail. I leapfrogged back and forth with several other runners, all of us trying to find a sustainable pace.
When we were finally (and literally) out of the woods, I told myself that with just a short amount left - and all of it flat - it was time to reel in and pass some runners. My first target was a woman in a black jacket who had been in my bubble for the entire race. I passed her and worked hard to keep up my pace so she'd stay behind me. Then I went after a young woman whose purple shirt had been ahead of me for the entire race. Passed!
I crossed the finish line in 39:02. It was the slowest I've ever run the Hawk Hustle - and the proudest I've been. While I was injured, one of the things I missed most was being able to challenge myself physically. To do something that I knew would be hard, and to tackle it. Finally, I was able to do that again, to dig deep and to push through.
That feeling was a victory for me. As icing on the cake, my efforts were good enough for a second place age group trophy. That trophy will remind me of how good hard work feels.
The first year, I hadn't planned to run a race at all that day. I signed up spontaneously and had a great time... but the hills kicked my butt.
The second year, I slacked off on my training and suffered for it. Despite a tough race, I came home with a second place trophy for my age group and promised myself that in year three, I'd be prepared.
That brings us to that third year. Thanks to the injury in my shin, I was lucky to be able to run at all, much less train hard on hills and rock it out like I'd planned to.
Still, I took the line feeling excited. I had a new plan: run a smart, tough race. Four miles would be the longest I'd run since my ill-fated
Ready? Go!
The first mile featured a few giant downhills, which I used to build up momentum and zip up some uphills. It was one of the easier miles of the course, so I ran the whole thing in a surprisingly fast 9:05.
Shortly after the first mile marker was one of those gradual uphills. I did a brisk walk in the middle for 9:36. It must have been a short break.
By the third mile, the course was getting tougher and I was getting more tired. A couple of walk breaks slowed me to 10:06.
Mile four is the toughest of the course and was also my slowest at 10:15. With half a mile to go, runners head up a very steep hill, and just when you think it's over, the trail turns and you're confronted with yet more trail. I leapfrogged back and forth with several other runners, all of us trying to find a sustainable pace.
When we were finally (and literally) out of the woods, I told myself that with just a short amount left - and all of it flat - it was time to reel in and pass some runners. My first target was a woman in a black jacket who had been in my bubble for the entire race. I passed her and worked hard to keep up my pace so she'd stay behind me. Then I went after a young woman whose purple shirt had been ahead of me for the entire race. Passed!
I crossed the finish line in 39:02. It was the slowest I've ever run the Hawk Hustle - and the proudest I've been. While I was injured, one of the things I missed most was being able to challenge myself physically. To do something that I knew would be hard, and to tackle it. Finally, I was able to do that again, to dig deep and to push through.
That feeling was a victory for me. As icing on the cake, my efforts were good enough for a second place age group trophy. That trophy will remind me of how good hard work feels.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Race Report: Governor's Cross Country Race
After a few successful sessions of running in quicksand, I decided to brave a race. And not just any race: the Governor's Cross Country Race. I ran this race for the first time last year, and it was probably the most fun race I did all year.
Sure, running through extreme, hilly, muddy trails and diving through creeks isn't exactly an easy way to come back from an injury. But, the race had a two mile option, the ground would be softer than a hard road, and it's not a race anyone tries to run fast. I figured it would be a great way to go out and have some fun.
My fellow two-milers watched the four milers take off, then the race director (my running coach from the training program, Russ) lined us up in the opposite direction. He told us to keep the blue flags to the right and said there'd be a pink ribbon marking the first mile. Throughout the course, we'd find shortcuts marked with yellow flags. Russ told us that they would be shorter, but not necessarily faster. And like last year, there were ribbons hidden throughout the race course that could be redeemed for prizes afterwards. With those instructions, we were off!
After just shy of a quarter mile on the dirt next to the road, the course took us into the woods. We followed a narrow trail that darted in between trees and scraped past bushes. Every single runner stopped to walk up a steep hill, then started running again at the top.
It felt glorious to be out there. The weather was perfect - in the 60s and sunny. The park was beautiful, and the experience of running through the woods felt natural, primal. We reached a clearing, and a volunteer stationed there told us all, "There's a big fallen tree here. You decide: over it or under it?"
I stood and looked at the tree for a moment, considering my options. The space under it was small. I'd have to get on my hands and knees and crawl under it. Climbing over it didn't seem like a good option, either. It was pretty tall, and it wouldn't be easy to get started. I also thought I'd probably scratch up my legs if I tried it. Under it was, and it worked fine. A few minutes later, I snagged a blue ribbon hidden in a grove of trees. I saw another ribbon nearby and called out to my fellow runners, in case anybody was still looking for one.
There were several creeks along the course race that we had to cross. I stepped into the first one and was surprised to see that the water was over my knees. At the next one, I followed the yellow flags and found a volunteer holding a rope that I could use to swing across. Tellingly, a man with a video camera was stationed at the other end. I grabbed the rope and swung... right into the deep water. I laughed and crawled out of the creek.
At the next creek, there was another rope swing. This time, I was ready for it. I knew that I needed to grab onto the rope as high as I could to avoid landing in the creek again. I held on as high up as I could and... SPLASH! Right into the water!
By this point, I was, naturally, soaking wet. Last year, I didn't know what I was getting into and looked a bit silly in really nice new running clothes. This time, I wore a sweatshirt that already had mud stains on it from running Living History Farms in it. Twice. I wore my good shoes because I didn't want to mess around with an injury, but I wore a pair of gloves that already had mud stains on them. I remembered from last year that knee socks were a good idea, but did not remember that a skirt was a bad idea. Just like last year, my skirt ended up sopping wet and clinging to my legs. Maybe the third year will be the time I get it right.
I ran along at a relaxed pace when a dad, decked out in an Afro wig, and his son (who was probably about eight) ran towards me. "Come on," said the dad. "We don't want to get beat by Pigtails here." I laughed, and he added, "And she probably doesn't want to lose to a guy in an Afro." I told him that was true, but that I didn't mind losing to a kid because kids are fast.
I took a walk break so that I could be sure my leg wasn't taxed too much. Two more women passed me... then I realized that the finish line was near. I picked it up, passed both of them, and closed the gap a bit with Afro.
I happily crossed the line in 24:40, then went into the lodge to reap the rewards of this great race. First, I grabbed a beer. Then, I turned in my blue ribbon. Prize choices included a water bottle (just like I got last year), coffee cups, and Snickers bars taped to lottery tickets. I snagged a coffee cup with the logo from the 2004 Pumpkin Dash on one side and my running club logo on the other. Finally, I hung out by the blazing fire and warmed up.
It feels wonderful to be out there again. It will take a while before I'm back at real racing speed, but I don't care. I'm just happy to be running.
Sure, running through extreme, hilly, muddy trails and diving through creeks isn't exactly an easy way to come back from an injury. But, the race had a two mile option, the ground would be softer than a hard road, and it's not a race anyone tries to run fast. I figured it would be a great way to go out and have some fun.
My fellow two-milers watched the four milers take off, then the race director (my running coach from the training program, Russ) lined us up in the opposite direction. He told us to keep the blue flags to the right and said there'd be a pink ribbon marking the first mile. Throughout the course, we'd find shortcuts marked with yellow flags. Russ told us that they would be shorter, but not necessarily faster. And like last year, there were ribbons hidden throughout the race course that could be redeemed for prizes afterwards. With those instructions, we were off!
After just shy of a quarter mile on the dirt next to the road, the course took us into the woods. We followed a narrow trail that darted in between trees and scraped past bushes. Every single runner stopped to walk up a steep hill, then started running again at the top.
It felt glorious to be out there. The weather was perfect - in the 60s and sunny. The park was beautiful, and the experience of running through the woods felt natural, primal. We reached a clearing, and a volunteer stationed there told us all, "There's a big fallen tree here. You decide: over it or under it?"
I stood and looked at the tree for a moment, considering my options. The space under it was small. I'd have to get on my hands and knees and crawl under it. Climbing over it didn't seem like a good option, either. It was pretty tall, and it wouldn't be easy to get started. I also thought I'd probably scratch up my legs if I tried it. Under it was, and it worked fine. A few minutes later, I snagged a blue ribbon hidden in a grove of trees. I saw another ribbon nearby and called out to my fellow runners, in case anybody was still looking for one.
There were several creeks along the course race that we had to cross. I stepped into the first one and was surprised to see that the water was over my knees. At the next one, I followed the yellow flags and found a volunteer holding a rope that I could use to swing across. Tellingly, a man with a video camera was stationed at the other end. I grabbed the rope and swung... right into the deep water. I laughed and crawled out of the creek.
At the next creek, there was another rope swing. This time, I was ready for it. I knew that I needed to grab onto the rope as high as I could to avoid landing in the creek again. I held on as high up as I could and... SPLASH! Right into the water!
By this point, I was, naturally, soaking wet. Last year, I didn't know what I was getting into and looked a bit silly in really nice new running clothes. This time, I wore a sweatshirt that already had mud stains on it from running Living History Farms in it. Twice. I wore my good shoes because I didn't want to mess around with an injury, but I wore a pair of gloves that already had mud stains on them. I remembered from last year that knee socks were a good idea, but did not remember that a skirt was a bad idea. Just like last year, my skirt ended up sopping wet and clinging to my legs. Maybe the third year will be the time I get it right.
I ran along at a relaxed pace when a dad, decked out in an Afro wig, and his son (who was probably about eight) ran towards me. "Come on," said the dad. "We don't want to get beat by Pigtails here." I laughed, and he added, "And she probably doesn't want to lose to a guy in an Afro." I told him that was true, but that I didn't mind losing to a kid because kids are fast.
I took a walk break so that I could be sure my leg wasn't taxed too much. Two more women passed me... then I realized that the finish line was near. I picked it up, passed both of them, and closed the gap a bit with Afro.
I happily crossed the line in 24:40, then went into the lodge to reap the rewards of this great race. First, I grabbed a beer. Then, I turned in my blue ribbon. Prize choices included a water bottle (just like I got last year), coffee cups, and Snickers bars taped to lottery tickets. I snagged a coffee cup with the logo from the 2004 Pumpkin Dash on one side and my running club logo on the other. Finally, I hung out by the blazing fire and warmed up.
It feels wonderful to be out there again. It will take a while before I'm back at real racing speed, but I don't care. I'm just happy to be running.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Race Report: Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic
Here's a first for me: a race report with no actual racing involved, at least not on my part.
Friends, my leg is still in bad shape. It still hurts when I walk, stairs are still tricky, and going from sitting on the floor to a standing position is more challenging now than it was when I was pregnant. The situation really blows. Not only am I without the outlet of running, but let's not forget: my leg hurts. It's not especially bad, and I'm not taking anything for it, but it's a constant reminder of something I'd rather not think about.
That's a long way of explaining that no way was I going to be able to run the Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic, a 5 and 10K race put on by my running club on Sunday. Instead, I asked the race director if I could volunteer.
Race Day preparations were not especially different for me. I still woke up early, drank coffee, and hada light breakfast. I still gave some thought to what I'd wear. It was very cold outside, probably in the 40s, so I put on a comfy pair of track pants, knee socks (cotton, argyle, cute and totally inappropriate for running), a long-sleeved t-shirt (cotton, totally inappropriate for running), a sweatshirt that I planned to exchange for the race shirt when I arrived (again, inappropriate), a striped hat, and at the last minute, a pair of thin gloves.
The race was held at a pretty park along the Mississippi River and had a bike path that I should check out some time soon. The race director told me that I'd been assigned to work the finish line, removing chips from the runners' shoes. Cool! I helped set up the timing mat at the starting line, then busied myself with chatting with my running friends. For the first time ever, I stood off to the side while my fellow runners lined up to start and watched them take off.
When the runners were away, it was strangely quiet in our part of the park. What had been a hive of activity was just a handful of people. After a few minutes, we rolled up the starting map. Then I killed some time by drinking a cup of hot cider. We chatted about when the first 5K finishers would cross the line; everybody figured that based on the field, it would be around 17 minutes. With just shy of 15 minutes on the clock, I took my position on a folding chair in the finishing chute, along with two other volunteers.
Sure enough, shortly after the 17 minute mark, the first finisher crossed the line, well ahead of the runner in second place. From then on, we were steadily busy. Chip removal was a great job to have. I got to watch every single runner cross the finish line, chat with the other volunteers, admire really cute running outfits (which would probably only happen when all three volunteers were women), and cheer for everybody, especially my friends.
The only drawback is that it got really cold. I could have used an extra pair of socks, as my toes were getting numb. One of my running friends brought me a cup of hot coffee and thus proved himself to be a special kind of running angel, a running angel who doesn't help fellow runners, but instead, icy volunteers.
The 10K finishers started to slow up, and after a while, we heard that there were only two women left on the course. I moved my chair closer up to the finishing line, and the other two volunteers departed. It was the first time I'd ever been there to see someone finish last in a race, and I'm happy to say that the women with that distinction crossed the finish line with an exhilarated smile on her face. I sat around for a few minutes, rather than yelling, "Okay, last place just cross the line. Let's pack this up!" That smiling runner had just finished a 10K, maybe her first. I wanted her to enjoy her moment no matter how many runners finished ahead of her.
After the race was over, I dove into a huge catered breakfast that was free for all of the volunteers and runners. There were eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and muffins. The food was delicious, and everyone had fun hanging around eating, despite the cold.
Just like I do when I finish a race, I am already making plans for my next. I am afraid that, in two weeks, I am still not going to be up to running, not even a slow 4K. But I can get out there and help my fellow runners by volunteering. I know that, in time, I'll be back there toeing the line with the others. Until that day comes, I want to bank some karma by giving back.
Friends, my leg is still in bad shape. It still hurts when I walk, stairs are still tricky, and going from sitting on the floor to a standing position is more challenging now than it was when I was pregnant. The situation really blows. Not only am I without the outlet of running, but let's not forget: my leg hurts. It's not especially bad, and I'm not taking anything for it, but it's a constant reminder of something I'd rather not think about.
That's a long way of explaining that no way was I going to be able to run the Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic, a 5 and 10K race put on by my running club on Sunday. Instead, I asked the race director if I could volunteer.
Race Day preparations were not especially different for me. I still woke up early, drank coffee, and hada light breakfast. I still gave some thought to what I'd wear. It was very cold outside, probably in the 40s, so I put on a comfy pair of track pants, knee socks (cotton, argyle, cute and totally inappropriate for running), a long-sleeved t-shirt (cotton, totally inappropriate for running), a sweatshirt that I planned to exchange for the race shirt when I arrived (again, inappropriate), a striped hat, and at the last minute, a pair of thin gloves.
The race was held at a pretty park along the Mississippi River and had a bike path that I should check out some time soon. The race director told me that I'd been assigned to work the finish line, removing chips from the runners' shoes. Cool! I helped set up the timing mat at the starting line, then busied myself with chatting with my running friends. For the first time ever, I stood off to the side while my fellow runners lined up to start and watched them take off.
When the runners were away, it was strangely quiet in our part of the park. What had been a hive of activity was just a handful of people. After a few minutes, we rolled up the starting map. Then I killed some time by drinking a cup of hot cider. We chatted about when the first 5K finishers would cross the line; everybody figured that based on the field, it would be around 17 minutes. With just shy of 15 minutes on the clock, I took my position on a folding chair in the finishing chute, along with two other volunteers.
Sure enough, shortly after the 17 minute mark, the first finisher crossed the line, well ahead of the runner in second place. From then on, we were steadily busy. Chip removal was a great job to have. I got to watch every single runner cross the finish line, chat with the other volunteers, admire really cute running outfits (which would probably only happen when all three volunteers were women), and cheer for everybody, especially my friends.
The only drawback is that it got really cold. I could have used an extra pair of socks, as my toes were getting numb. One of my running friends brought me a cup of hot coffee and thus proved himself to be a special kind of running angel, a running angel who doesn't help fellow runners, but instead, icy volunteers.
The 10K finishers started to slow up, and after a while, we heard that there were only two women left on the course. I moved my chair closer up to the finishing line, and the other two volunteers departed. It was the first time I'd ever been there to see someone finish last in a race, and I'm happy to say that the women with that distinction crossed the finish line with an exhilarated smile on her face. I sat around for a few minutes, rather than yelling, "Okay, last place just cross the line. Let's pack this up!" That smiling runner had just finished a 10K, maybe her first. I wanted her to enjoy her moment no matter how many runners finished ahead of her.
After the race was over, I dove into a huge catered breakfast that was free for all of the volunteers and runners. There were eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and muffins. The food was delicious, and everyone had fun hanging around eating, despite the cold.
Just like I do when I finish a race, I am already making plans for my next. I am afraid that, in two weeks, I am still not going to be up to running, not even a slow 4K. But I can get out there and help my fellow runners by volunteering. I know that, in time, I'll be back there toeing the line with the others. Until that day comes, I want to bank some karma by giving back.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Race Report: Quad Cities Half Marathon
So, during the course of my training for the Quad Cities Marathon's half marathon trisko, there was a little something I neglected to mention: a nagging pain in my left shin.
Why did this never come up? Well, for one thing, it wasn't that bad. It would be sore for a while after a run, but not too bad and it never slowed me down. But the little bugger persisted. For months. And if I actually said out loud that I had an injury that wasn't healing, then people might suggest something sensible, like that I not go out and race for 13.1 miles. And that was a conversation I was not interested in having.
Still, between that little nagging injury and the fact that my training has not been as focused this season (and that is another post altogether), I knew that this race would not be my best work. That's okay, though - they can't all be PRs, and I was very excited to run on a beautiful course, support my fellow club members, and have a good time.
I met my running club at the hideous hour of 6:30. We all wore our neon yellow training t-shirts and posed for a very bright group photo. Everyone was excited, especially the firs time marathoners. I was so glad that I decided to train with the group instead of on my own. The sense of camaraderie was great. The weather was a bit chilly, probably in the 50s, so I waited until the absolute last second to, as they say in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, pop off the shirt.
I think that the fact that I ran the 26.2 version of this race last year made me really appreciate the trisko course. It had all of the good - running over bridges across the Mississippi, stunning views of the river, friendly spectators, and a conveniently timed hot air balloon festival - and none of the tedium of spending far too long of a stretch running on Arsenal Island.
A half marathon, while more than half as easy as a full marathon, is still not easy. As I hit miles 10 and 11, I was feeling tired. I kept on pushing forward, though, knowing how close I was. I was definitely not on track for a PR (thanks in part to a bathroom break I took at mile 2, figuring that would help me enjoy the race more, especially without any records in the offing), but I still wanted to finish respectfully.
At mile 12, huge spasms shot up and down my left leg. They hurt so much that I actually said, "Ow!" out loud. But no matter, I kept on running listened to Steve, Jack, and my mom cheer me in, and happily crossed the finish line with a totally decent time of 2:05:32.
As soon as I did, that nagging injury, which was pretty quiet through the entire race, started screaming at me. I stayed on my feet and limped through the after party, figuring that would be better for me than sitting down. I enjoyed my first post-race massage, which was heavenly.
The bad news, Internet, is that my shin is in very bad shape. Standing or walking on it is incredibly painful, and walking up and down the stairs is an exercise in toughness. When I got to the post-race party my club had, I groaned when I saw I'd have to go up stairs to join everybody. Russ, my coach, immediately saw me limping and wanted to know what happened. He was glad to hear my plans to see my doctor and rest, though still concerned about me. The party was great. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. And Paul, the president of our club, had spent the entire day completing a slide show, set to music, that documented our training. It was amazing to see how long we'd all be running together and how hard we had all worked. It ended with shots of each and every one of us crossing the finish line.
I limped my way through work and limped my way to the doctor's office today. My doctor thinks that I have some kind of soft tissue damage and doesn't think that the bone is injured. I am going to an orthopedist on Thursday who will have a better assesment of what's wrong, and I will go on from there.
One of my co-workers saw me dragging my semi-useless leg around today and asked if I hurt myself, "In a one-legged ass-kicking contest." I like to think that's exactly what happened. I ran a great race despite what seems to be a bad injury, and I kicked ass.
Why did this never come up? Well, for one thing, it wasn't that bad. It would be sore for a while after a run, but not too bad and it never slowed me down. But the little bugger persisted. For months. And if I actually said out loud that I had an injury that wasn't healing, then people might suggest something sensible, like that I not go out and race for 13.1 miles. And that was a conversation I was not interested in having.
Still, between that little nagging injury and the fact that my training has not been as focused this season (and that is another post altogether), I knew that this race would not be my best work. That's okay, though - they can't all be PRs, and I was very excited to run on a beautiful course, support my fellow club members, and have a good time.
I met my running club at the hideous hour of 6:30. We all wore our neon yellow training t-shirts and posed for a very bright group photo. Everyone was excited, especially the firs time marathoners. I was so glad that I decided to train with the group instead of on my own. The sense of camaraderie was great. The weather was a bit chilly, probably in the 50s, so I waited until the absolute last second to, as they say in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, pop off the shirt.
I think that the fact that I ran the 26.2 version of this race last year made me really appreciate the trisko course. It had all of the good - running over bridges across the Mississippi, stunning views of the river, friendly spectators, and a conveniently timed hot air balloon festival - and none of the tedium of spending far too long of a stretch running on Arsenal Island.
A half marathon, while more than half as easy as a full marathon, is still not easy. As I hit miles 10 and 11, I was feeling tired. I kept on pushing forward, though, knowing how close I was. I was definitely not on track for a PR (thanks in part to a bathroom break I took at mile 2, figuring that would help me enjoy the race more, especially without any records in the offing), but I still wanted to finish respectfully.
At mile 12, huge spasms shot up and down my left leg. They hurt so much that I actually said, "Ow!" out loud. But no matter, I kept on running listened to Steve, Jack, and my mom cheer me in, and happily crossed the finish line with a totally decent time of 2:05:32.
As soon as I did, that nagging injury, which was pretty quiet through the entire race, started screaming at me. I stayed on my feet and limped through the after party, figuring that would be better for me than sitting down. I enjoyed my first post-race massage, which was heavenly.
The bad news, Internet, is that my shin is in very bad shape. Standing or walking on it is incredibly painful, and walking up and down the stairs is an exercise in toughness. When I got to the post-race party my club had, I groaned when I saw I'd have to go up stairs to join everybody. Russ, my coach, immediately saw me limping and wanted to know what happened. He was glad to hear my plans to see my doctor and rest, though still concerned about me. The party was great. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. And Paul, the president of our club, had spent the entire day completing a slide show, set to music, that documented our training. It was amazing to see how long we'd all be running together and how hard we had all worked. It ended with shots of each and every one of us crossing the finish line.
I limped my way through work and limped my way to the doctor's office today. My doctor thinks that I have some kind of soft tissue damage and doesn't think that the bone is injured. I am going to an orthopedist on Thursday who will have a better assesment of what's wrong, and I will go on from there.
One of my co-workers saw me dragging my semi-useless leg around today and asked if I hurt myself, "In a one-legged ass-kicking contest." I like to think that's exactly what happened. I ran a great race despite what seems to be a bad injury, and I kicked ass.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Race Report: Bix 7
I had big plans for this year's Bix 7. I was going to smash my PR of 1:06:58 and run it in 1:03. I was pretty sure I could do it - I recently ran a 10 miler at 9:02 pace. Subtract three miles and add in crowds and hills, and it seemed challenging, but possible.
But plans change. What was going to be a tough race turned into a weekend of running with my guys.
Friday night was the Junior Bix. Jack was incredibly pumped for his race. I got him dressed in his Quad Cities Micro Marathon t-shirt, since Jack is certainly not going to run wearing the race t-shirt, a fact that the vast majority of the other kids were clearly unaware of. Amateurs! On the walk from the car to the starting line, Jack asked me at least three times if I would run the race with him. Every time, I answered, "Yes, if you want me to. Or if you want to run by yourself, that's fine too."
Jack insisted that we would run together - and we did, holding hands the whole way. Running with Jack is good for my spirit. All I need to do is see the joy on his face as he races to the finish line and the pride he feels upon finishing and I am reminded of my own love for the sport.
As for Steve, he was more nervous about the big race on Saturday. Last year, he ran the race despite not training well, and he suffered for it. Steve announced months ago that his goal was to run the Bix without feeling like he was going to die afterwards - and enlisted me as his coach. I put him through a series of long runs of gradually increasing distances, intermixed with the Gentleman's Three (a relaxed three-miler) and 5K's for fun. We also ran the Bix at Six training run a few weeks prior to the race, so I knew he could do it.
Steve was less confident and asked me if I would run the race with him. That was not my plan, and as visions of my 1:03 finish faded away, I said, "Um, do you want me to?" He nodded and said, "I'm asking you to." It was clear that he needed me, for moral support at least, so I agreed to run the Bix not as a racer, but instead as a coach.
Race morning! Steve woke up feeling more excited than nervous. He declared that his goal was to run the race at 12:00 pace - a more ambitious goal than "finish and not want to die," but one I was sure he could achieve. I made sure he had a good breakfast, both water and coffee,and a couple of Advil. Then we engaged in my favorite pre-race ritual of people watching - cute couples ready to run together, gaunt high school cross country boys, a shirtless guy in denim shorts, and spectators smoking cigarettes and squinting at us uncomprehendingly. The Bix is held at the end of July every year, and really, the end of July in the Midwest is a typically horrible time for running. But the weather was unseasonably cool, in the 70s, with delightful breezes. It was a great day to run, and I wondered if course records would be set.
The gun went off, and about ten minutes later, we crossed the starting line and began our assent of the Brady Street hill. The hill is about 1/4 mile long, with a challenging grade. We spent a lot of time weaving around people who apparently decided to walk it while standing shoulder to shoulder with five of their closest friends. We finished the first mile in just over 12:00, which is excellent given both the hill and the crowds.
Steve was relaxed and comfortable in the second mile. We saw Meb Keflezighi looking fantastic with a huge lead (he went on to win with a blazing time of 32:25). I later found out that Magdalena Lewy Boulet was also racing. It felt great to be running the very same race as such elite athletes! Equally cool, we ran mile two behind a phalanx of firefighters that included two who had been injured in the line of duty and were racing in wheelchairs. At the two mile mark, I heard another runner remark, "That was only two miles? You've got to be kidding me!" Steve still looked great.
People talk about the Brady Street hill when they talk about the Bix, probably because it's big and at the very start of the race. But to me, the hardest part of the course comes in the third and fourth miles, where there are steep rolling hills. Steve was a little quieter, but was still running strong.
At around mile five, Steve asked me to run a little slower. I was proud of him for opting to do that, rather than walking. I babbled away, hoping to distract him by making up a plot for "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" in which the gang runs a 5K. Steve told me later that it was obvious that I was trying to distract him, but that he appreciated it nevertheless. When I told him we had just a mile and a half to go, he was thrilled, not having realized we'd crossed the five mile mark.
Soon, we turned to run back down the big hill. I advised Steve to relax and let the hill do some of the work for him. Some of the runners around us were clearly suffering, but Steve was hanging in there pretty well. I reminded him that we were almost finished, just a mile, less than a mile to go. "You've got this," I told him.
At the bottom of the hill, the finish line was in sight. Steve picked up his pace, knowing that the race was almost over. We crossed the finish line holding hands with a time of 1:19:48.
Steve's 2008 time was 1:33:51. Not only did he finish the race feeling strong, not only did he beat his 12:00 pace goal, but he shaved two minutes per mile off his previous pace! I could not be more proud of him.
My weekend may not have included the PR I was planning, but instead, I got to enjoy running with the two people I love most.
But plans change. What was going to be a tough race turned into a weekend of running with my guys.
Friday night was the Junior Bix. Jack was incredibly pumped for his race. I got him dressed in his Quad Cities Micro Marathon t-shirt, since Jack is certainly not going to run wearing the race t-shirt, a fact that the vast majority of the other kids were clearly unaware of. Amateurs! On the walk from the car to the starting line, Jack asked me at least three times if I would run the race with him. Every time, I answered, "Yes, if you want me to. Or if you want to run by yourself, that's fine too."
Jack insisted that we would run together - and we did, holding hands the whole way. Running with Jack is good for my spirit. All I need to do is see the joy on his face as he races to the finish line and the pride he feels upon finishing and I am reminded of my own love for the sport.
As for Steve, he was more nervous about the big race on Saturday. Last year, he ran the race despite not training well, and he suffered for it. Steve announced months ago that his goal was to run the Bix without feeling like he was going to die afterwards - and enlisted me as his coach. I put him through a series of long runs of gradually increasing distances, intermixed with the Gentleman's Three (a relaxed three-miler) and 5K's for fun. We also ran the Bix at Six training run a few weeks prior to the race, so I knew he could do it.
Steve was less confident and asked me if I would run the race with him. That was not my plan, and as visions of my 1:03 finish faded away, I said, "Um, do you want me to?" He nodded and said, "I'm asking you to." It was clear that he needed me, for moral support at least, so I agreed to run the Bix not as a racer, but instead as a coach.
Race morning! Steve woke up feeling more excited than nervous. He declared that his goal was to run the race at 12:00 pace - a more ambitious goal than "finish and not want to die," but one I was sure he could achieve. I made sure he had a good breakfast, both water and coffee,and a couple of Advil. Then we engaged in my favorite pre-race ritual of people watching - cute couples ready to run together, gaunt high school cross country boys, a shirtless guy in denim shorts, and spectators smoking cigarettes and squinting at us uncomprehendingly. The Bix is held at the end of July every year, and really, the end of July in the Midwest is a typically horrible time for running. But the weather was unseasonably cool, in the 70s, with delightful breezes. It was a great day to run, and I wondered if course records would be set.
The gun went off, and about ten minutes later, we crossed the starting line and began our assent of the Brady Street hill. The hill is about 1/4 mile long, with a challenging grade. We spent a lot of time weaving around people who apparently decided to walk it while standing shoulder to shoulder with five of their closest friends. We finished the first mile in just over 12:00, which is excellent given both the hill and the crowds.
Steve was relaxed and comfortable in the second mile. We saw Meb Keflezighi looking fantastic with a huge lead (he went on to win with a blazing time of 32:25). I later found out that Magdalena Lewy Boulet was also racing. It felt great to be running the very same race as such elite athletes! Equally cool, we ran mile two behind a phalanx of firefighters that included two who had been injured in the line of duty and were racing in wheelchairs. At the two mile mark, I heard another runner remark, "That was only two miles? You've got to be kidding me!" Steve still looked great.
People talk about the Brady Street hill when they talk about the Bix, probably because it's big and at the very start of the race. But to me, the hardest part of the course comes in the third and fourth miles, where there are steep rolling hills. Steve was a little quieter, but was still running strong.
At around mile five, Steve asked me to run a little slower. I was proud of him for opting to do that, rather than walking. I babbled away, hoping to distract him by making up a plot for "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" in which the gang runs a 5K. Steve told me later that it was obvious that I was trying to distract him, but that he appreciated it nevertheless. When I told him we had just a mile and a half to go, he was thrilled, not having realized we'd crossed the five mile mark.
Soon, we turned to run back down the big hill. I advised Steve to relax and let the hill do some of the work for him. Some of the runners around us were clearly suffering, but Steve was hanging in there pretty well. I reminded him that we were almost finished, just a mile, less than a mile to go. "You've got this," I told him.
At the bottom of the hill, the finish line was in sight. Steve picked up his pace, knowing that the race was almost over. We crossed the finish line holding hands with a time of 1:19:48.
Steve's 2008 time was 1:33:51. Not only did he finish the race feeling strong, not only did he beat his 12:00 pace goal, but he shaved two minutes per mile off his previous pace! I could not be more proud of him.
My weekend may not have included the PR I was planning, but instead, I got to enjoy running with the two people I love most.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Race Report: Surprise Track Meet
Last night, I went to the track at Augustana College for my running club's weekly track workout. To my surprise, there was a track meet going on. People were setting up hurdles, pole vaulters were warming up, and the place was teeming with people of all ages in brightly colored running clothes. Just as I was starting to think that my plans to run on the track with the club had changed, an announcement came over the loudspeaker: Cornbelt Runners, go find Russ. He'll give you your bib number.
Well, allrighty, then.
I tracked down Russ, who is our coach, and several other runners trickled in with me. "Russ, what do you have cooked up for us?" I asked. Russ grinned and said that we were going to run in the 1500 meter race.
I have to admit, one of the first things I thought was, "If I'd known I was running a race, I'd have worn something different." My black running skirt and neon yellow marathon training group just isn't the fastest looking outfit I have. But so be it, because my second thought was, "Hey, all I have to run is a 1500? Nice!"
I warmed up and chatted with my fellow runners. Several of them had never run a race so short and had never run a track meet at all, so the excitement and nerves were high. Before I knew it, it was time for the 1500. All of the Cornbelt Running Club runners walked over to the starting line - and there were a lot of us! They had the women go first, followed by the men. And we women were joined by several kids.
Now, I have learned my lesson about kids at track meets. I ran against several of them at
an indoor meet in January, and they are freaking fast. I immediately decided to just discount the kids and focus on running against the grown-ups. We women rationalize that it was okay if the kids beat us because, um, they didn't have to work all day.
The gun was off, and so was I - probably way too fast. I glanced down at Paula The Garmin in the first 200 meters or so and saw that my pace was at a 5:something mile. I resolved to relax. Before long, there were a couple kids in front of me (ignored the little scamps), along with Kathy, who I know is one of the best runners in the area. I figured I'd have no chance of catching up to her, and sure enough, I think she ended up finishing about 150 meters ahead of me.
At around the second lap, a younger woman passed me as well. I focused on running strong, keeping my arms relaxed, and making a game of pretending to be the main character from Once A Runner, out running the mile of my life.
In the final straightaway, I picked up my pace and shaved quite a lot off of my time by chasing after one of those young whippersnappers. No, I didn't actually catch him, but again, kids are fast.
My final (unofficial, Paula Garmin) time was a speedy 6:11, putting me as the third grown-up to finish the race, and probably first in my age group if I'm right about the ages of the other two women.
I spent the rest of the night on an absolute runner's high. I hung out and watched the guys run, then headed home. As I was pulling up to Stately Wasser Manor, I saw Steve out for a run, so I parked the car and joined him for a Gentleman's Three, a great opportunity to cool down and tell him all about the race.
Well, allrighty, then.
I tracked down Russ, who is our coach, and several other runners trickled in with me. "Russ, what do you have cooked up for us?" I asked. Russ grinned and said that we were going to run in the 1500 meter race.
I have to admit, one of the first things I thought was, "If I'd known I was running a race, I'd have worn something different." My black running skirt and neon yellow marathon training group just isn't the fastest looking outfit I have. But so be it, because my second thought was, "Hey, all I have to run is a 1500? Nice!"
I warmed up and chatted with my fellow runners. Several of them had never run a race so short and had never run a track meet at all, so the excitement and nerves were high. Before I knew it, it was time for the 1500. All of the Cornbelt Running Club runners walked over to the starting line - and there were a lot of us! They had the women go first, followed by the men. And we women were joined by several kids.
Now, I have learned my lesson about kids at track meets. I ran against several of them at
an indoor meet in January, and they are freaking fast. I immediately decided to just discount the kids and focus on running against the grown-ups. We women rationalize that it was okay if the kids beat us because, um, they didn't have to work all day.
The gun was off, and so was I - probably way too fast. I glanced down at Paula The Garmin in the first 200 meters or so and saw that my pace was at a 5:something mile. I resolved to relax. Before long, there were a couple kids in front of me (ignored the little scamps), along with Kathy, who I know is one of the best runners in the area. I figured I'd have no chance of catching up to her, and sure enough, I think she ended up finishing about 150 meters ahead of me.
At around the second lap, a younger woman passed me as well. I focused on running strong, keeping my arms relaxed, and making a game of pretending to be the main character from Once A Runner, out running the mile of my life.
In the final straightaway, I picked up my pace and shaved quite a lot off of my time by chasing after one of those young whippersnappers. No, I didn't actually catch him, but again, kids are fast.
My final (unofficial, Paula Garmin) time was a speedy 6:11, putting me as the third grown-up to finish the race, and probably first in my age group if I'm right about the ages of the other two women.
I spent the rest of the night on an absolute runner's high. I hung out and watched the guys run, then headed home. As I was pulling up to Stately Wasser Manor, I saw Steve out for a run, so I parked the car and joined him for a Gentleman's Three, a great opportunity to cool down and tell him all about the race.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Race Report: 13.1 Chicago
When we last left off, I had a bag of frozen peas tied to my ankle and was trying not to freak out about an injury that could make running 13.1 miles tricky to say the least. I am happy to report that the peas and their ally the Advil did their job: by Saturday morning, my ankle was no longer bothering me.
Steve, Jack, and I left Saturday morning for Chicago. It was a lot of fun taking Jack to a big city for the first time. He found absolutely everything fascinating: the tall buildings, the pigeons, and all of the people. He also noted, "Chicago is noisy," which was especially true since we were near El tracks most of the time. There were also several firsts for Jack - his first ride in a taxi - with no car seat - and his first ride on a Ferris wheel. He seemed to find them equally thrilling.
There are, of course, lots of things to see and do in Chicago, but we decided to keep it simple. We went to Navy Pier to ride the aforementioned Ferris wheel, then went to the Chicago Children's Museum. The museum was a lot of fun, with many the opportunity for Jack to put on costumes, play music, and so on. The best part was a huge net that he climbed way up and around, like a pirate's ship. Jack pretty much did that over and over again until the museum closed. Jack spotted a pirate show on a stage nearby, so we watched that, then had pasta for dinner. On the way back to the hotel, we took a quick detour to the toy department at the old Marshall Field's store (which I hate to acknowledge as a Macy's), where he selected a cat. Jack introduced Kitty Kit to Vincent, the doorman at the hotel, then we headed to bed at the ripe old hour of 8:30.
Naturally, it was onlhy too soon that my alarm went off at 5:00. I had my clothes laid out in the bathroom so I was able to quickly get dressed and head out. I ignored sage advice and wore a new outfit for the race: a bright pink Asics singlet with a black and grey Race Ready skirt. I highly recommend the Race Ready skirt. All along the small of my back were mesh pockets, with elastic holdin git in almost bungee style. I was able to easily carry my iPod, phone, a couple packs of Biofreeze (I was still worried about my ankle), emergency cash, and two packs of sport beans. It was also really easy to get things in and out of the pockets. I'll definitely be buying the skirt in more colors.
Chicago at 5:00 in the morning on a Sunday is virtually desserted. I walked out of the hotel and didn't see another person for a few minutes. Then, I saw groups of runners all headed towards Millenium Park, ready to catch the shuttle buses to the start. The bus service was smooth and easy - very well organized.
We arrived at the South Shore Cultural Center, a lovely building where the Obamas had their wedding reception (Steve noted that it probably didn't smell like sweat that day). It was then that I discovered a crisis: there was no coffee anywhere near by. The Starbucks near my hotel was not open yet, and there was absolutely nothing near the starting line. No caffiene is not a good thing for me. My coffee addiction is a bit like heroin addiction in that the first hit isn't so much to make me feel good as it is to keep me from feeling bad. I ate my second emergency pack of sport beans, figuring at least that would get some caffiene in my system.
The energy at the starting line was terrific. Rob Powers did the announcing, the White Sox mascot was wandering around, as were actors playing the Blues Brothers. The start was organized in waves, which was a first for me. Each wave got its own pomp (music that introduced the Blues Brothers in the movie), and there was ample space between each wave so that the paths were never crowded. It was terrific, and more races should do this.
The course itself was spectacular. It was an absolute thrill to run alongside Lake Michigan with a view of the Chicago skyline. Support was impressive, with water and Gatorade available approximately every mile. I also saw lots of Brightroom photographers, so here's hoping that there will be some good pictures of me.
And how'd I do? Well, for the first 11 miles, I felt awesome. Then I started to fade. I'm not sure why. I'd like to blame the lack of coffee, but it may just be that I wasn't quite as focused and mentally strong as I was when I ran the Quad Cities Distance Classic. Nevertheless, I kicked it up a notch, waved to Steve and Jack, and finished strong with a final time of 2:00:56.
The finisher's medal is the most gigantic thing you ever saw. It's a 13.1 (with the decimal point actually spin-able), easily twice as big as any of my other medals, and in gold. I feel like a rapper in it.
It was a spectacular way to end my spring Trisko Festival. When it was all said and done, I ran threehalf marathons triskos in just under a month - and had a blast doing it.
Steve, Jack, and I left Saturday morning for Chicago. It was a lot of fun taking Jack to a big city for the first time. He found absolutely everything fascinating: the tall buildings, the pigeons, and all of the people. He also noted, "Chicago is noisy," which was especially true since we were near El tracks most of the time. There were also several firsts for Jack - his first ride in a taxi - with no car seat - and his first ride on a Ferris wheel. He seemed to find them equally thrilling.
There are, of course, lots of things to see and do in Chicago, but we decided to keep it simple. We went to Navy Pier to ride the aforementioned Ferris wheel, then went to the Chicago Children's Museum. The museum was a lot of fun, with many the opportunity for Jack to put on costumes, play music, and so on. The best part was a huge net that he climbed way up and around, like a pirate's ship. Jack pretty much did that over and over again until the museum closed. Jack spotted a pirate show on a stage nearby, so we watched that, then had pasta for dinner. On the way back to the hotel, we took a quick detour to the toy department at the old Marshall Field's store (which I hate to acknowledge as a Macy's), where he selected a cat. Jack introduced Kitty Kit to Vincent, the doorman at the hotel, then we headed to bed at the ripe old hour of 8:30.
Naturally, it was onlhy too soon that my alarm went off at 5:00. I had my clothes laid out in the bathroom so I was able to quickly get dressed and head out. I ignored sage advice and wore a new outfit for the race: a bright pink Asics singlet with a black and grey Race Ready skirt. I highly recommend the Race Ready skirt. All along the small of my back were mesh pockets, with elastic holdin git in almost bungee style. I was able to easily carry my iPod, phone, a couple packs of Biofreeze (I was still worried about my ankle), emergency cash, and two packs of sport beans. It was also really easy to get things in and out of the pockets. I'll definitely be buying the skirt in more colors.
Chicago at 5:00 in the morning on a Sunday is virtually desserted. I walked out of the hotel and didn't see another person for a few minutes. Then, I saw groups of runners all headed towards Millenium Park, ready to catch the shuttle buses to the start. The bus service was smooth and easy - very well organized.
We arrived at the South Shore Cultural Center, a lovely building where the Obamas had their wedding reception (Steve noted that it probably didn't smell like sweat that day). It was then that I discovered a crisis: there was no coffee anywhere near by. The Starbucks near my hotel was not open yet, and there was absolutely nothing near the starting line. No caffiene is not a good thing for me. My coffee addiction is a bit like heroin addiction in that the first hit isn't so much to make me feel good as it is to keep me from feeling bad. I ate my second emergency pack of sport beans, figuring at least that would get some caffiene in my system.
The energy at the starting line was terrific. Rob Powers did the announcing, the White Sox mascot was wandering around, as were actors playing the Blues Brothers. The start was organized in waves, which was a first for me. Each wave got its own pomp (music that introduced the Blues Brothers in the movie), and there was ample space between each wave so that the paths were never crowded. It was terrific, and more races should do this.
The course itself was spectacular. It was an absolute thrill to run alongside Lake Michigan with a view of the Chicago skyline. Support was impressive, with water and Gatorade available approximately every mile. I also saw lots of Brightroom photographers, so here's hoping that there will be some good pictures of me.
And how'd I do? Well, for the first 11 miles, I felt awesome. Then I started to fade. I'm not sure why. I'd like to blame the lack of coffee, but it may just be that I wasn't quite as focused and mentally strong as I was when I ran the Quad Cities Distance Classic. Nevertheless, I kicked it up a notch, waved to Steve and Jack, and finished strong with a final time of 2:00:56.
The finisher's medal is the most gigantic thing you ever saw. It's a 13.1 (with the decimal point actually spin-able), easily twice as big as any of my other medals, and in gold. I feel like a rapper in it.
It was a spectacular way to end my spring Trisko Festival. When it was all said and done, I ran three
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Race Report: Madison Half Marathon
The night before the Madison half marathon trisko, my cousin Michael's wife Ana (who is Italian and thus a fantastic person to have nearby the night before a race) asked a simple question:
"Why would anyone want to run a marathon or half marathon?"
My brother, running the full, gave the Everest answer - "Because it's there." I expanded on that, saying that a huge part of the appeal of running a long distance race is that it's really hard to do. It's challenging to train for it, and it's even more challenging to complete it. That challenge gives you a tremendous sense of accomplishment that we don't get to experience in our normal day-to-day lives. Andy agreed and said that it feels amazing when you finish, and the beer you drink after a marathon is the greatest one you've ever had.
Little did we know that struggle and challenge would be so much on our minds the next day.
As always, I'm getting ahead of myself.
It had been a challenging couple of weeks. Solid travel for work meant lots of time way from Steve and Jack. Steve had to work Memorial Day weekend, so I decided Madison could be a Mommy-Son roadtrip. It was also a chance to spend some time with some of my favorite family members - my brother, my aunt and uncle, and three of my cousins. In between, I'd throw in a half marathon. Really, what could go wrong?
Andy and I hit the Expo, and I showed tremendous restraint, buying just a new hat with the race logo on it. They also had t-shirts that proclaimed, "Will run for beer, cheese, and brats," and I don't know how Andy resisted the "26.2 Miles? You Betcha!" shirt. In the brief time we were there, Jack convinced my Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Chuck to take him to the brat festival, where he won a stuffed dolphin and three snakes. Good thing, since I think he only brought about 20 stuffed animals from home.
Back at the house, the Italian relatives cooked a huge feast of pasta and bread. It was completely fabulous. It being Wisconsin, there was also a lot of cheese. Excellent.
Jack and I decided to share a bed, which meant about a hundred years of him playing with my hair, having various tigers kiss me goodnight, and me saying over and over, "Quit kicking your legs or I swear, I will make you sleep on the floor." He finally conked out, leaving me to sleep, then wake up at 12:30, 4:00, and finally 5:00 when it was time to get up. Not good.
After bagels and coffee, Uncle Chuck drove Andy and me to the starting line, explaining that we shouldn't have to deal with parking. We did some people watching, enjoyed some pre-race nervous peeing, and I finally bid Andy goodbye to take to the starting line. Madison is an unusual race in that the half starts before the full marathon. It's really a good thing, as it's best to just stay out of each other's hair.
The starting line was really crowded. I actually wasn't able to fit on the pavement and just stood in the dirt and funneled through when the gun went off. No big deal, since it was chip-timed, but I wonder if they'll change that in future yeas.
I ran the first few miles near the 2:00 pacer, figuring I'd run there for a while, then pick it up in the final miles. That was not meant to be. At mile 4, I felt incredibly tired. And not tired legs, my friends. Tired, like, I could take a nap on this comfy pavement tired. Two weeks of travel and poor sleep caught up to me. I felt lousy.
Then, I made a decision: if I wasn't going to run a good time, I might as well have a good time. I made an effort to take in the sights of the very pretty course - we ran past three different lakes, past the Badger football stadium, through lovely neighborhoods, and through University of Wisconsin's campus. The volunteers and spectators were all friendly. It was great.
I finished in 2:06, nine minutes slower than my PR, and one minute slower than my previous slowest time. But what are you going to do?
I met up with Phyllis, Chuck, and Jack so we could watch Andy run. At mile 18 or so, he looked pretty good. At mile 23, he looked okay, too. I ran with him for a few steps and told him where to meet us afterwards. He said he wasn't feeling great, thanks to the remains of a cold he was fighing. Then we headed to the finish line. I saw lots of people who had been running around where Andy was, and Jack and I had fun cheering for them. But no Andy. I was worried. I know that a lot can go wrong in just 3 miles.
But finally, he was there. I yelled, "Go, Andy! Don't let them run out of beer!" Jack chased after Andy and ran with him for a little while, which Andy later said actually helped him.
Chuck went to find Andy at the meeting spot and he was nowhere to be found. I grabbed Jack and went to look for him. My fear, which I didn't share with anyone, was that he might be in the medical tent. Thank Yoda he was okay - my cell phone rang a minute later. It was my mom - Andy borrowed someone's cell phone and called her to tell me where he was. Andy explained that yes, I'd told him where to meet, but that in those last three miles it fell out of his brain. Totally understandable. He, too, was far beyond his goal time.
The good thing is, he kept it all in perspective, just as I was working to do. Sometimes, it's just not your day. Neither of us was racing under peak conditions.
And remember what I said before about part of the appeal of racing long distances being how hard it can be? Well, because it's hard, sometimes you're not going to succeed. If you hit your goal or set a PR every time you toe the line, then you're not setting tough enough goals. Finishing a race strong and getting a PR is an amazing feeling; I know since it happened to me just a few weeks ago. But the other side of the coin is real, too. There is some value, even some satisfaction that can come from working hard at something and not making the mark.
"Why would anyone want to run a marathon or half marathon?"
My brother, running the full, gave the Everest answer - "Because it's there." I expanded on that, saying that a huge part of the appeal of running a long distance race is that it's really hard to do. It's challenging to train for it, and it's even more challenging to complete it. That challenge gives you a tremendous sense of accomplishment that we don't get to experience in our normal day-to-day lives. Andy agreed and said that it feels amazing when you finish, and the beer you drink after a marathon is the greatest one you've ever had.
Little did we know that struggle and challenge would be so much on our minds the next day.
As always, I'm getting ahead of myself.
It had been a challenging couple of weeks. Solid travel for work meant lots of time way from Steve and Jack. Steve had to work Memorial Day weekend, so I decided Madison could be a Mommy-Son roadtrip. It was also a chance to spend some time with some of my favorite family members - my brother, my aunt and uncle, and three of my cousins. In between, I'd throw in a half marathon. Really, what could go wrong?
Andy and I hit the Expo, and I showed tremendous restraint, buying just a new hat with the race logo on it. They also had t-shirts that proclaimed, "Will run for beer, cheese, and brats," and I don't know how Andy resisted the "26.2 Miles? You Betcha!" shirt. In the brief time we were there, Jack convinced my Aunt Phyllis and Uncle Chuck to take him to the brat festival, where he won a stuffed dolphin and three snakes. Good thing, since I think he only brought about 20 stuffed animals from home.
Back at the house, the Italian relatives cooked a huge feast of pasta and bread. It was completely fabulous. It being Wisconsin, there was also a lot of cheese. Excellent.
Jack and I decided to share a bed, which meant about a hundred years of him playing with my hair, having various tigers kiss me goodnight, and me saying over and over, "Quit kicking your legs or I swear, I will make you sleep on the floor." He finally conked out, leaving me to sleep, then wake up at 12:30, 4:00, and finally 5:00 when it was time to get up. Not good.
After bagels and coffee, Uncle Chuck drove Andy and me to the starting line, explaining that we shouldn't have to deal with parking. We did some people watching, enjoyed some pre-race nervous peeing, and I finally bid Andy goodbye to take to the starting line. Madison is an unusual race in that the half starts before the full marathon. It's really a good thing, as it's best to just stay out of each other's hair.
The starting line was really crowded. I actually wasn't able to fit on the pavement and just stood in the dirt and funneled through when the gun went off. No big deal, since it was chip-timed, but I wonder if they'll change that in future yeas.
I ran the first few miles near the 2:00 pacer, figuring I'd run there for a while, then pick it up in the final miles. That was not meant to be. At mile 4, I felt incredibly tired. And not tired legs, my friends. Tired, like, I could take a nap on this comfy pavement tired. Two weeks of travel and poor sleep caught up to me. I felt lousy.
Then, I made a decision: if I wasn't going to run a good time, I might as well have a good time. I made an effort to take in the sights of the very pretty course - we ran past three different lakes, past the Badger football stadium, through lovely neighborhoods, and through University of Wisconsin's campus. The volunteers and spectators were all friendly. It was great.
I finished in 2:06, nine minutes slower than my PR, and one minute slower than my previous slowest time. But what are you going to do?
I met up with Phyllis, Chuck, and Jack so we could watch Andy run. At mile 18 or so, he looked pretty good. At mile 23, he looked okay, too. I ran with him for a few steps and told him where to meet us afterwards. He said he wasn't feeling great, thanks to the remains of a cold he was fighing. Then we headed to the finish line. I saw lots of people who had been running around where Andy was, and Jack and I had fun cheering for them. But no Andy. I was worried. I know that a lot can go wrong in just 3 miles.
But finally, he was there. I yelled, "Go, Andy! Don't let them run out of beer!" Jack chased after Andy and ran with him for a little while, which Andy later said actually helped him.
Chuck went to find Andy at the meeting spot and he was nowhere to be found. I grabbed Jack and went to look for him. My fear, which I didn't share with anyone, was that he might be in the medical tent. Thank Yoda he was okay - my cell phone rang a minute later. It was my mom - Andy borrowed someone's cell phone and called her to tell me where he was. Andy explained that yes, I'd told him where to meet, but that in those last three miles it fell out of his brain. Totally understandable. He, too, was far beyond his goal time.
The good thing is, he kept it all in perspective, just as I was working to do. Sometimes, it's just not your day. Neither of us was racing under peak conditions.
And remember what I said before about part of the appeal of racing long distances being how hard it can be? Well, because it's hard, sometimes you're not going to succeed. If you hit your goal or set a PR every time you toe the line, then you're not setting tough enough goals. Finishing a race strong and getting a PR is an amazing feeling; I know since it happened to me just a few weeks ago. But the other side of the coin is real, too. There is some value, even some satisfaction that can come from working hard at something and not making the mark.
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