Five days and counting until the TransRockies Run with Dean K. Fingers crossed that I will triumph. That I will not fail. That I make it the full 20.4 miles. Ken said the only way I am allowed to not make it is if I am flown out by a helicopter.
With the upcoming Pike’s Peak Marathon and Leadville Trail 100 this weekend, there was an interesting article in the Wall Street Journal today about trail running. It gives insight into the muscles you engage while on the trails and how some doctors recommend TR over road running because trails offer the body a break from concrete and asphalt. You can find the article HERE.
I realize you’ve been holding your breath as I anxiously awaited my race results from the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half. 48 hours later I found out that yes, indeed, it was a PR. But by the skin of my freaking teeth. 21 seconds. Last year’s time for this half marathon: 1:47:57. This year? 1:47:36.
Good thing I didn’t stop to high five that cute kid or to pull out that wedgie.
19/148 in the 40-44 female division. 140/1390 overall (female).
Meh. Could have been worse. Definitely could have been better. I always say we have our official race time, then the time we think we should have gotten if ___________________(insert your favorite excuse here) – we didn’t stop to crap, the wind wasn’t blowing, our allergies weren’t acting up, that blister didn’t rear its ugly head, etc.
The ass still hurts. I will get massaged today. Nothing like a butt massage. I will give a good tip to the masseuse for her trouble. I just realized I had a high mileage week last week (at least for me). 50 miles! That’s why my ass is talking back. However, my ass will not have the last say. My ass will not eff up my run with Dean K. My ass will be chilling on ice and rolling on foam all week long. And if my ass is lucky there will be one run this week. Only one. Dean K. will not be happy if my ass acts up.
Moving on from the ass (I wrote “ass” 7 times in that last paragraph), do you have your official time and your should have been time in races?
Getting out of the house on race morning is never easy, especially if it involves a 4:30 a.m. wakeup call. My body is simply not meant to function at that hour. Forget eating. Forget crapping. Ain’t gonna happen until my normal wake up time of about 6:30 a.m.
We hit the road at 5:00 a.m. for the two hour drive up to Georgetown, CO. Not an hour into the drive I feel the urge. We pull over at Loaf ‘n Jug. I’m sure you know why they call it that – duh -for all the people like me who stop there, don’t buy anything and pinch off a loaf. The jug part? I do have jugs, although it would be more fair to call them 5 oz bottles.
We made it to the start with time to spare. It was 45 degrees. Summertime in the Colorado mountains. Did the pre-run ritual of waiting in the porta potty line. Seemed every single person in front of me was in there at least 10 minutes. Since it doesn’t take that long to pee, I could only guess what was going on in there. The smell confirmed it.
Then we sat in the car watching people warm up. One of my favorite past times. My pre-race warm up, if anything, involves a 50 yard jog to get the nerves out. Other people, however, are more serious than I. They do push ups and jumping jacks, they sprint, they even do this:
I’m pretty sure that this guy kicked my ass in the race, so maybe I should be doing this from now on before all my races. I am going to study his form.
I, however, preferred to sit in the warm car eating my cinnamon toast. I will say that I was sort of dreading the race. I wasn’t feeling the greatest (time of the month) and my piriform-ASS had really been bugging me lately. While this butt pain hasn’t kept me from running and doesn't jack with my pace or gait, it’s still no fun running with any kind of discomfort. In the back of my mind, I felt worried that by racing I would be jeopardizing my run with Dean Karnazes next weekend. I told myself that I could use the race as a training run, but my personality won’t let me do this. If I show up at a race I am going balls out, regardless.
I had to pee again, but no way was I going back to those smelly potties. I had Ken hold up a blanket by his truck and I squatted, giving many folks a gander at blinding white cheeks . Nice work.
I was feeling nerves - those moments right before the gun when you know the next couple of hours will hold a certain amount of exertion and pain. You know you will want to stop, but you know you won’t. You might feel sick, you might feel elated, you might get discouraged. Chances are all of these things will occur at different points in the race.
They played the National Anthem and this got me into a more centered pace. The gun went off at 8:00 a.m. sharp.
The first two miles are through the small town of Georgetown, Colorado (elevation: 8,530, population: 2,000). This was the largest year ever for this race – 3,000 people in all – which made for some congested running through the narrow and pitted streets of this old mining town. Some woman inadvertently elbowed me hard in the left boob (or should I say 5 oz bottle?). Ouch, dammit.
Mile 1: 8:26
Mile 2: 8:13
We headed east out of town on a newly paved back road. I still wasn’t feeling it, but kept up the pace. With a cool breeze rustling the Aspen trees and cloudless bright blue skies, the day could not have been more perfect. Now if I could only turn around my attitude.
Mile 3: 7:55
Mile 4: 7:48
Mile 5: 8:15
Mile 6: 7:46 (fastest of the race)
At mile 6 I pulled my gel out of my pocket and my fingers grazed the good luck charm Emma had made for me the day before. I smiled big.
My ass was really starting to hurt. I even contemplated stopping not because I couldn’t go any further, but because I didn’t want to do more damage. I told myself to press on to mile 7 and see how I felt. I slowed a bit and the pain calmed down, or maybe i just got used to it. I stopped to stretch at the next two aid stations. I knew I probably wouldn't beat my half marathon PR that I made on this course last year.
Mile 7: 8:06
Mile 8: 8:10
Mile 9: 8:15
Mile 11: 8:08
I was mentally really done. I’m not sure why this race felt so hard. Maybe the elevation or maybe my head was just messing with me. I told myself to hold back until mile 12, then kick it in a bit to the finish.
Mile 12: 8:44
Mile 13: 8:26
Mile .1: 8:00
The official race results aren't posted yet, but my Garmin says my final chip time was 1:47:36 (8:10 average). This is actually a new PR for me!! 21 seconds off my time of last year! Quite a shocker given how slow I felt I was going and those stretch breaks I took at miles 8 & 10.
Ken and I meandered around the post race activities. I rolled my butt on a cold bottle of water. It helped. This is probably the first race I’ve ever run where my stomach didn’t revolt at the end. I felt great. No cramping, no nausea. I could actually eat and took in a strawberry cream Myoplex shake for protein.
We met up with blogger friends Shana, Marcia, Tara and Jill. Really fun to see these guys and to finally meet Shanna and and Marcia in person. Catching up with other bloggers is great because there is no small talk. You just get right into subjects of erections and crapping right off the bat. Kind of like old friends. Here we are – Ken, me, Tara, Marcia & Shana.
A couple of pictures when we got back to the car. Told you it was a nice day:
Overall a good day. Time with Ken. A PR. Peeing on the ground. Clean shorts. Meeting new friends. Can’t complain.
I love it when people are being interviewed about marathons and triathlons and such, but they are not triathletes or runners themselves. Sometimes you get the best bloopers.
For example, some chick from O, the Oprah Magazine was talking to Natalie Morales on the Today Show this past week. Anyone see this? I forget what the subject was, but they started talking about the Ironman. The woman being interviewed said (very knowingly), “The Ironman is a very long race and you don’t have to make that your first triathlon (duh). It is a 24 mile swim…a 112 mile bike…and a marathon.”
Whoa. Back up there sister. Did she just say 24 mile swim? That’s like from Los Angeles to Honolulu. Well, not really, but you get the point.
Fortunately, Natalie quickly put her in her place, advising her it was a 2.4 mile swim…Guess that teleprompter forgot the decimal point.
Speaking of 24 mile swims, Emma and I ran the Run for the Congo Women this morning in Denver. It was a perfect running morning with the temp at about 60 degrees, the skies blue. The race organizers did an amazing job of educating the runners about the cause at hand, and for nine year old Emma, this was very eye opening. They had a pastor on site who said a small prayer at the beginning of the race – something that would appeal to everyone about loving and enjoying life. Emma told me, “I said my own prayer to the women who are hurting. I said that I loved them.” She makes me cry sometimes.
The run started well enough. Emma had high hopes for her time as she had just run a 10K last month in 1:07. She thought maybe she could pull out a 30 minute 5K. We busted that wide open when at mile .5 she had a stitch in her side, she was tired, she needed water, her foot hurt, her leg ached, she felt like a loser. Have you ever run with a nine year old? There are good days and bad days. Just like all of us runners have. It was my job to pump her up and remind her that we were just out to be together on a beautiful day and to support a great cause. And, I meant it.
We ran, we walked, we drank water. Mile 2 had Emma starting to whine and while I had been the patient mom up until now I wasn’t going to take no whining. I shut her up quick with some stern mom talk. She finished strong in 38 minutes. No PR today for her. But for me? Finally I broke a 40 min 5K! :)
Surprisingly, she won first in her 12 and under age group (comprised of five girls). That shut her up for good.
Me with two Congolese women:
And Emma:
We’ve decided to sponsor a woman in the Congo through Women for Women International. $27 per month goes towards helping a woman obtain career counseling, provide her family with basic necessities, pay for her children to attend school, etc. You exchange letters with this woman and learn about her journey. Should be a good family experience.
On a closing note, my ass hurts. I think it’s the old piriformis. Pain in the butt. I’m icing, rolling, stretching. I’ll take tomorrow off in preparation for a tempo run on Tuesday to kick off 16 weeks of marathon training.
Kiss my piriformis! Just doesn’t have the same ring as kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. (What movie is that from??). I’ll swim 24 miles if you tell me.
