Why I Love Chafing (And You Should, Too)!

This title is a little strange, I know.  I can't imagine there has ever been a person on Earth who loves chafing, and after last Saturday, I am even more of an anti-chafeite than ever before.  However, Shut Up + Run referred to a fun blog topic generator site the other day, and when I typed in the words on my mind after Saturday's half-marathon (running, chafe, motivation) this title was one that came up.  It made me snicker, and it made my mind wander to all sorts of weird places, so I decided to share it.  This is actually a race recap of what was originally going to be my 2nd 1st full marathon, but ended up being my 3rd 1/2.

First, the basics.  The course started at a place called The Casements in Ormond Beach, where I hear John D. Rockefeller used to live.  There were many beautiful houses along the shady, oak lined streets, the course was filled with friendly volunteers, paramedics on bikes, easy to see markings, and there were more than enough water stops (10 aid stations with gatorade, water, and gels [at one] for the half).  The buckets of rain stopped falling just after 6 a.m., which made for a nice mile walk from our hotel to the start line, but did not help the cone setter-uppers at all.  They couldn't start marking the course as early as planned because of the torrential downpour, so the race started nearly 30 minutes late.  Fortunately, the delay was communicated well, and not just to me, as a relative and friend of the people in charge.  I was really impressed with the organization of this race (again, I'm not just saying that because I'm related to and friends with the race managers).  As an inaugural race, with an inaugural distance for Volusia County, I know that the logistics and planning that went into pulling this off were huge.  Bag drop was easily accessible.  Communication was great.  There were 2 hidden port-o-lets without long lines.  Perfect start!

My training had kind-of fizzled after deciding for sure to switch from the full distance to the half.  Some of the reasons, which sound like excuses to me, but maybe not to you, follow:

1. There was a lot of sickness in our household.
2. I have some weird, pretty bad pain in my lower right leg that reminds me of last year's pre-stress fracture pain.  Same spot, different leg.  This pain isn't quite so just-one-spot-there-on-the-bone as when the bone was actually fractured, though.  New doctor ordered an x-ray to check for a stress fracture (sigh) and a venous ultrasound to check for insufficient circulation.  Supposed to follow up with results in a few weeks.
3. We went out of town for a few days.
4. March is full of birthdays for our family.  Celebrations don't plan themselves, you know.

Due to my laziness lack of training, injury, and the difficulty of the course, I made it my goal to finish proud.  I committed myself to not walking unless I absolutely had to, and to really giving my best.  

So much prettier on days you don't have to run over it twice.

My good friend/sister's sister-in-law, Kap, has also been dealing with an injury and not running very much, so she and I planned to stick together as long as possible.  I was feeling okay for the first couple of miles.  My leg pain was at a manageable, steady throb, and nothing else really hurt, except for my lungs as I climbed the bridge.  Kap was having a harder time.  She decided to make a pit stop at the second water station, just after the 3rd mile.  There was a small wait for the port-o-let, but I was still quite confident that she would catch up to me, so I didn't argue too much with her insistence that I continue running.  As I ran on alone(ish), I was able to enjoy the silly signs along the course, wave to the few spectators, and respond when people spoke to me.  It didn't occur to me until quite a bit later that I was probably only putting forth about 85% effort.  We turned into Tomoka State Park around mile 4, and then ran on the dirt road through the park for 27 years.

I said "dirt" but meant "mud."  Remember the morning's torrential downpour?  

Lots of Rain

+ The Road Made of Sand

Tiptoeing along the edge of the road with palm fronds slapping your shins

There were mud puddles that spanned the entire width of the road, and other spots where there were narrow paths between 6 or so smaller puddles.  Those were deceptively sticky.  I didn't witness any twisted ankles, but I did worry a lot.  I got to wave to my friend K as she passed after the turnaround, and then got to see Kap again after I had turned around.  Shortly after I turned to go back along the mud road, my mental strength started showing its, well, lack of strength.  

I should walk now.

Not yet.

Yeah.  I should walk now.

Kap shouldn't see me walking.

Kap should see me walking.

There's no reason to walk.

Yet.

I said I was going to be proud!

But this leg pain...

Ok.  I won't walk until I see Kap.

There she is!  I don't think she's looking.  Walk.

I can still run.

But walking...walking is so nice.

I'll run until the 8 mile mark.

Or maybe the mile markers are off?  It's probably been 8 miles already.

I gave in to the sissypants devil on my left shoulder and started ignoring the confident angel on my right shoulder before the 8th mile marker.  You know how they call it "breaking the seal" when you pee for the first time on a night of drinking?  Because once you go the first time, it's way harder to hold it?  That's how walking during a race is for me.  I broke the seal, and as we all know, seals don't just get unbroken.  

The graph above shows my pace throughout the race.  You can see how I started strong, and didn't even slow down too significantly when crossing the bridge the first time.  When Kap and I split up, I wasn't feeling upset or nervous or anxious about running without her.  At least, not consciously.  But, as the evidence above makes clear, I gradually slowed my pace from the moment we separated.  Oh, and can you point out where exactly I decided to walk for the first time?  I decided to run again, but each running interval grew shorter and shorter.  At one point, I saw an older couple out for a stroll.  They smiled at us as we passed, and I thought, "Walking is good exercise.  From now on, I'll just be a walker.  Lookit how happy they are!  I'm so miserable, and they're so happy.  Running is terrible.  I can go through the rest of my life without being a runner.  I'll just be happy to go outside to meander."  Just then, I noticed someone trying to back his car out of a driveway a few houses ahead.  Immediately, I engaged my Worst Case Scenario talent and thought, "Oh, great.  This guy isn't going to see me.  I'm going to get hit by this car and never be able to run again.  Mental image pops up of me, using a walker for the rest of my life. Okay, okay.  So maybe I'll want to run after this.  I'm sure I've enjoyed it before.  Does he see me?  He stopped for that guy ahead of me.  He's going.  I'm far away.  Now I'll probably fall off the bridge or something."
The thing is, I really wasn't in unbearable pain until very late in the race.  After each walk break, I would gingerly start to trot, and then realize that it actually felt better to run than to walk.  The biggest/only problem was in my *&$%#@! head.  My 11th and 12th miles were each over 14 minutes.  Granted, I did see the bridge during that time, and expended some extra energy to laugh.  It looked so.impossibly.far.

Legoland mini model of San Francisco.
The bridge seemed as far away as California from Florida, and as high as the Golden Gate.

Just before the bridge came into my view, I noticed how pretty the sunlight looked on the water, and how lovely it was to be outdoors.  Then, I saw the bridge and thought, "There is no way I can do that." I slowed to a walk, again, while I chuckled at the idea that anyone, even me, thought for a moment that I would be able to run to, and up, that bridge.  I started to run again, but my knee was hurting from ye ol' IT band issue, so I actually stopped and stretched in the grass for a minute.  Soon after I got back on the road, I saw my dear sister running toward me.  She had worked to set up the race since around 4 a.m. that day, and had already helped 2 other friends over the bridge and across the finish line before running over it again to meet me just before the 12th mile marker.  I was able to converse easily, which I know she must hate.  We walked through the last water stop, and then started up the bridge.  She got a little way ahead of me and told me to focus on her "dumb bun."  She meant the one in her hair.  I told her that I was going to focus instead on the Massachusetts shaped not-sweaty spot on her back.  I did walk on the bridge for about 10 seconds, but ran again when I realized that I didn't need to walk after all.  My 13th mile, over the impossible bridge pace was 3 minutes faster than either of the 2 miles just before I saw my sis.  See what I mean about my brain being the problem?  Maybe she's right, and I wouldn't have been able to speed up at the end if I hadn't walked so much between miles 8-12.  Or, maybe she just knows the right things to say to keep me from beating myself up.

Result: 2:29:40- my slowest half-marathon to date

You've heard "the mind is willing but the body is weak" (it's from the Bible, Matthew 26:40-43)?  Well, when it comes to my racing, the opposite is true.  Mental strength takes practice, discipline, and hard work.  I think it's also important to offer rewards, like chocolate, guilt-free bragging, or some extra time spent with a good book, for good mental behavior.  Starting a tough race without mental preparation is even more detrimental than neglecting to use Body Glide to prevent chafing of sensitive areas.  Trust me.


If you deserve to brag about your mental strength, do so here!  No guilt!

Do You Need a Time-Out?

If you're my dear, sweet, beautiful 16-month-old Baby, then your answer will be an emphatic, "YES!"  Her new form of entertainment goes a little something like this:

Slap Mommy

Slap Bun-Bun (her favorite stuffed friend)

"Hey!  Hitting hurts.  No, Ma'am!"

Spit

"We do not spit."

Scream

Slap whatever surface is closest 

"Do you need a time-out?"

Nodding so vehemently that it looks like whiplash is next on the menu, "Yeh"

Now, her punishment is not going to sit in her time-out chair.  I've tried 4 different spots (3 chairs and a step), and as soon as she sits down she starts to grin, then giggle.  She absolutely loves it.  She has also figured out at what point I'm about to "let" her get up, and will scream, slap, or spit again in order to keep being "punished."  The threat minus the follow through has been working pretty well for a little while.  We usually only go through the routine once a day, and then she moves on to headstands or unnecessarily violent bun-bun kisses. "Mmmah!  Mmmah!  Mmmah!"

I brought 6 y.o. to Sea World last week to (finally-it has been open all of 2 1/2 months!) see the new Expedition Antarctica ride and penguin exhibit.  The ride was kinda boring, but I did enjoy the 2 extra staging areas that made it seem like the line was moving quickly.  And then, we exited the wild car on our right, and there was snow and ice and cold winds and workers wearing parkas and PENGUINS!  

Not a google image.  My own picture!

I haven't done any research, but I would still venture to say that this penguin enclosure is one of the first of its kind.  The barrier between us and them was only waist high, to me, and that was only closing in the giant aquarium.  I'm no zoologist (or ornithologist, or even psychologist, despite all my years in college) but it seemed like the penguins were pretty comfortable in their new home.  In fact, some birds hopped the fence to welcome us...or something.

4 times in the 5 minutes we were there, a penguin waddled into the crowd.

When the employee picked up this guy, we got a very close look at how penguins defecate.  In fact, the front pocket of 6 y.o.'s shorts betrayed the evidence of his closeness to the penguin's poopy protest of being picked up and put in time-out!  

Don't you just want to smooch his cute face?

6 y.o. was sent to his room a few times today, mere hours after the adorable photo above was taken.  Summer is wearing on him, I think, as is constant contact with Baby and me.  He claims he is feeling "only excited" about starting first grade next week.  Husband and I, however, would be okay with having him home for some more months, despite his backtalk and whiny, whiny, whiny whines.  

I have also taken a time-out this week, but not because I deserved it.  At least, I don't think I did.  I haven't been out for a run since Saturday.  That last run, brought to you by the number 7 (for different shades of pink I was wearing), the color pink, and the letter P (for pain in the knee), was my longest training run to date.  I had been experiencing some usually-bearable calf pain for several weeks, and had been disappointed by my performance in some of my recent runs.  

Pictured here: only 6 shades of pink, unless you count my sweaty face.  My sister borrowed my pink watch.
Also pictured here: evidence of my half-bag-o'-chips-per-night habit.  

So, like any dumdum runner, I ran 12 miles in a pretty hilly neighborhood.  I was quite pleased with my pace and with how I felt during and after the run, but I did feel a twinge in my left knee around mile 9.  I've now been limping around for 3 whole days, except for a 4 a.m. jog up and down the hallway to figure out whether or not I should join the running group for a 5 a.m. run.  Not sure if this is good or bad, but the pain is significantly different from the IT band pain I experienced a few months ago.  I'm still doing the IT band stretches that helped before, though.  Each time during this week that I think I'm successfully ignoring the pain because it isn't so bad, someone comments on my limp.  Therefore, I'll rest another day or so, I guess, and try to enjoy my time-out.

My advice for you, totally not given because misery loves company, is to take a time-out.  Whether you just want to sit in a big girl chair and will spit, slap, and scream your way there, or whether you want to greet the strange beings staring at you while you swim, sleep, and poop, giving yourself a little break will be helpful.  Don't believe me?  Fine.  But I think I saw you limping. ;-)

I changed the settings so you don't have to prove you're not a robot in order to leave a comment now.  So, go on.  Leave a comment.  

You too, robot.

Brownies, Cheesecake, & Homemade Ice Cream

These three things have more in common than being delicious desserts.  For one, I'm really good at making all three.  I'm not usually one to brag, except when it comes to my kids and my desserts.  For another thing, this post is not about any of these three items.  Ha ha!  It was a trick!  I know how you non-runners operate, all, "Oh, great, she wrote another post about running.  I think the dryer just buzzed.  I'd better go fold laundry."  

I feel like a meaniac (combination maniac and meanie; also 6 y.o.'s favorite made-up insult to throw at his cousins) for posting such pictures and then giving race recaps instead of recipes, but I'm okay with being called such a thing.





Race #12- Blazin' The Trail 5k, March 9, 2013
               Superlative
As the sport of running grows in popularity, the number of available races in which to run on any given weekend is also increasing.  It seems like the 5k race is the new chocolate bar sale for non-profit organizations.  I was excited to learn that my son's school was up in the front of the bandwagon, and had decided to put on a race to benefit the physical education department.  Even more exciting was that they were using my friend's new race management company!  The race was less than a week after my second half-marathon, so I was not expecting to be in record-setting shape, and registered for it without even really expecting to run.  I figured I would volunteer for sure, run if I felt like it, and be okay with my time no matter what because I would be supporting my son's school.

Then, then 5 y.o. (Then 5 y.o. then?  Then, now 6 y.o.?  You decide.) made an announcement that he was going to run the 5k, also.  He had recently run a mile in just over 13 minutes, and really loved the whole racing deal, but had never come close to running 3.1 miles.  Husband and I talked it over and decided to let him run it after we set some ground rules.  We made sure 5 y.o. knew that it was not just okay for him to change his mind mid-race, or to stop running if he felt too tired, we would be very upset if he didn't let us know that he couldn't finish.  We explained to him that running that distance is hard, and that many people can't do it at all, let alone do it before their first double-digit birthday.  We also let him know that we believed he could do it, and that we would happily help him reach his goal.  He paid the registration fee out of his own money, and I signed him up.  Immediately, I realized that running with him would make it a perfect race for me, too.

Race morning dawned clear and cold (in the mid-40s), and I arrived at the school early to help with packet pick-up and registration, which went really smoothly for an inaugural event.  Husband arrived a bit later with the kids, and soon more family members arrived- some to cheer, some to run.  The Galloway racing method is a run-walk-run deallio that is gaining a lot of popularity among new runners, especially.  We had decided to put it to work for 5 y.o.'s race, and I had set my Garmin to alert us to run for 2 minutes, walk for 1.

I strapped my pretty, pink watch onto my son's wrist, and we were off.  He amazed me the whole time.  He remembered all of our advice, about not going out too fast at the start, about not whining when people passed us, about water stop etiquette, about listening to his body- I teared up with pride a couple of times, even.  On two occasions, he started walking about a minute before the watch indicated that it was time to do so.  All the other times, he followed the beeps religiously; running hard for 2 minutes, slowing to an easy recovery walk for 1 minute.  When the finish line was in sight, we let him know that, "Yes!  Now you can do a sprint!" and off he shot.  He placed 10th out of 20 boys aged 9 and under, and was the youngest one to run the 5k.  A few minutes after we finished, he joined in the couple-hundred-meter kid's run and did very well in that, too.

Finisher's medal for the kid's run (made by the school's art department- cool, huh?) and Youngest Runner medal that may or may not have been a planned award.  Maybe it's cool to have your aunt and your mom's friend be the race organizers.

He was the cutest and the youngest, and we were the proudest of parents.  With all those -ests, you can be sure he was a pretty happy kid.  26 years sooner than either of his parents ran a 5k, and in a far-from-shabby time frame, too?  Yep.  Probably the happiest kid I saw all day.

Result: 45:44

Race #13- Victoria Park 10k, March 16, 2013
            Hazy

I keep forgetting that I ran this race.  I'm not sure if it's because it wasn't a comeback race, an out-of-the-country race, or a personal record setting race...er.  Wait.  I did set a P.R. for that distance.  Hm.  Maybe I just run too many races, and can't keep all of them in my head?

My sister and brother-in-law registered Husband and I for this race as part of our Christmas gifts.  Is that weird, to give races as gifts?  We didn't think so, but it probably isn't the most common gift, is it?  Because of the problems I had been having with my IT band and all the knee pain, I hadn't exactly trained for this race, and my only goal was to finish without pain or further injury.

Merry Christmas!  Have some cavities!

Victoria Park is a neighborhood in a nearby city, and since our running group meets there on a regular basis, I was quite familiar with the roads.  There has been a race there for the past several years, but this year, they added the 10k distance for the first time.  Unfortunately, they had us run the 5k loop twice rather than coming up with a unique 6.2 mile course.  I'll tell you, it's not my favorite thing to run past the finish line and not be done running.

There were definitely a few notable pluses about this race:

• I was either related to or friends with about 40% of the racers.
• My sister and a friend of ours each earned medals in the 5k.
• My dad, brother-in-law, and his brother each earned medals in the 10k.
• Pancake breakfast.  Not that I ate anything, but pancakes always make 6 y.o. happy.
• No pain!
• Good music!  I had made a fabulous playlist the night before my half-marathon a few weeks earlier, but didn't actually add it to my iPod (doh!).  This race was the first time I was able to enjoy my perfect running song selections, and I definitely deserved my self-congratulations for choosing such great music.  My singing along might have slowed me down by a few seconds, though.
• Oh yeah, and I shaved more than 2 minutes off my previous 10k race time.  That's pretty good.

Result: 55:36 (4th in Age Group)

Race #14- A Mile For Boston, May 11, 2013

           The Final Mile

The Boston Marathon was memorable this year for more of us than usual.  Thankfully, all the people I knew who were spectating or racing came back safe and sound.  

Following a tragedy like the deaths at the Boston Marathon, most people want to do something--anything--to help.  The race director/running group president/Boston Marathoner friend of mine understood that desire and changed this 1-mile race from just a regular ol' race to a charity fundraiser benefiting the family of Martin Richard, the 8-year-old boy who was killed in the blast.  With nearly 200 runners registered and lots of extra t-shirts and such sold, the race generated a pretty hefty sum to give to the Richard family (I'm not sure how much, exactly, but it was a lot!)

I'm glad I was able to participate, and it was a fun race, despite the lingering sadness of the tragic events.  But... The course was actually 1.07 miles, according to my Garmin (and other folks' watches, too).  In a race that short, that near-tenth can make a big difference.  When my watch beeped at the real mile mark, my time was 20 seconds faster than in the 1 mile race I ran last September.  However, the posted, official result showed the same finishing time for both races.  Just so, you know, you know.  I'm faster now than then.

That was my final racing mile from 8/2012-5/2013!  Can you believe it?  The race recaps are over(ish.  For now.)!

Result: 7:47.6

Today's advice is a bit like the old standby re: book judging and covers.  Don't judge a blog by its title.  Unless, of course, its a really good title on my blog that makes you want to read the post and all the archived ramblings writings.  While we're (sorta) on the subject, I'll tell you my opinion-- it's perfectly fine to judge a book by its cover.  Or at least, by the title and the vibe.  And now that we're totally on the subject--

Cool cover, great book.  Zero bias.  Okay, some bias.

You should all read this book by my aunt, Sue Perry.  Cover art by my cousin.  Judge away!

What's your favorite fundraiser?  Bake sale?  Magazine subscriptions?  Candles?

Be honest.  You're a little bit sad about the end of the race recaps, aren't you?  

Second Half, Second Half

When last we met, I was describing how excited I was to be running in my second-ever half marathon race.  My first was the Women's Half Marathon, described in excruciating detail in that link.  My second was the Swamp House Half Marathon, and I was really looking forward to running it.  I was sure that I could beat the time of my first half (2:11) by a lot, and maybe even come in under 2 hours.  I had quieted the scaredy cat whiny baby in my head when I completed the whole 13.1 miles the first time, so all that was left to do was keep putting miles behind me between November and March, and to keep from injuring myself.

D'oh!  D'oh! And a double d'oh!

I didn't feel great after the November race.  I had pulled an abdominal muscle, which hurt for a few days, and when running all weird and breathing all wrong to make my abs not hurt so much during the race, I hurt my knee, too.  The smart thing to do was to take some time off, so I did.  The stupid thing to do was to take the rest of November and most of December off.  I ran a little, of course (If I don't, I start to feel like Old Yeller at the end of the movie.  Before he gets [SPOILER ALERT] killed, when he's all snarly and foaming at the mouth.)  I ran a 5k with Husband early in January, and a 5k leg of a 15k relay a few weeks later.  That day, I had decided to add some extra miles to get back into my planned training, so I ran home from the race site.  About a mile into the 3 1/2 mile trek home, my knee started hurting.  A lot.  I took a couple of walk breaks,  iced it when I got home, and rested, compressed and elevated it for a couple of days.  A really annoying, super frustrating pattern developed:  Run.  Ouch.  RICE.  Run fewer miles.  Run more miles.  Ouch.  RICE.  Run fewer miles.  Run more miles.  Ouch.  RICE.

I figured out that the source of pain, felt mostly in my knee, was actually my IT band.  Quick summary- the IT (iliotibial) band runs from around the hip to the outside of the knee.  When running (like I run), friction is created between the band of fascia and the bones, which can cause pain.  Although I pictured a rubber band when I first heard the description of the problem, to me, it felt like the opposite of a rubber band (whatever that may be).  When it would start to hurt, it was like my whole leg, starting from my hip, was getting shorter; getting pulled too tight.  I found some relief when I learned some stretches and went to some yoga classes.  I practiced improving my running form, I set a personal record in a 5k race, and I figured out a racing plan.  I realized that my form breaks down when I get fatigued, and bad form = pain, so my plan was to feel fresh for as many of the 13 miles as I could.  I decided to run for 10 minutes and walk for 1 minute.  I had my masseuse friend SpectacularLeigh work out any extra tension at the fabulous salon where I also got my hair done, and I felt like I was ready.  Since I had injured my knee, I had not logged nearly as many miles as I had originally planned, so I adjusted my goal from finishing under 2 hours to just having a good-feeling race.

I subtitled this race "Psychological Prowess", and here's why: I had some pretty significant mental hurdles to plow through in order to have a great race-

My best friend and biggest fan, Husband, was out of town for work.

It was really, really cold on race day.

I hadn't run more than 4 miles without pain in months.

Still nursing Baby had wakened me in the night, giving me <4 hours of sleep.

Sing with me!  Free your mind and the rest will follow.

My dad picked me up on race morning and left my mom with Baby and then-5 yr. old.  We met my sister and the three of us arrived at and parked in the super-easy-to-find field near the start line.  Did I mention that it was really cold?  37F, which felt like 32F with the wind.  We stayed in the car to keep warm until the last possible minute.  We didn't even get out to line up at the port-o-lets.  The race directors had planned well, so the lines weren't too long, but there was no line at all in front of the bushes.  

Just watered, not fertilized.

We lined up at the start (my sis and I had some of our husbands' socks on over our shoes to try to keep our toes warm- it worked!) just before the National Anthem.  The race started promptly, and we set off through the quiet neighborhoods.  My first mile was a 9:12 pace, which was right where I wanted to be.  The first time my watched beeped to indicate that I should take a walk break, I barely slowed down.  Mile 2 was a 9:11 pace, and I did slow to a walk after another 10 minutes of running.  Mile 3 was 9:01, and I felt great.  I wasn't in any pain, and I felt like I was taking the race easy enough to keep the IT band pain away for a while longer.  

We turned onto a main road, and cars were backed up as far as I could see.  My mom was planning to bring my kids to the finish line after giving them breakfast and bundling them up, and I couldn't see how she was going to get there with the traffic and road blocks.  Before I let myself get too worried, though, I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths.  I thought about how beautiful the sunlight looked coming through the trees, and how good the cold air had started to feel, and how grateful I was to be able to run.  I realized that I would really be okay with it if my mom had to turn around and go back to my house with the kids; that I was going to have a great race no matter what.  Mile 4 beeped in at a 9:09 pace.  I walked when my watch indicated it was time, and then I walked through a water stop so I could wash down my gooey, sticky fuel chews.

I cut them into quarters and still had trouble chewing them.  The energy boost without feeling barfy was great, though!

The extra walking made mile 5 a little longer, 9:54.  I was starting to feel some twinges of pain, especially when going uphill (probably only Florida natives like me would even call this course "hilly" with a straight face, but whatever) so I let myself slow down and tried to concentrate on my form.  Mile 6 was 9:51, and I was still feeling physically okay when I saw my brother-in-law and his parents at mile 7, which was 9:49.  My friend and training buddy and sister's sister-in-law (all the same person) stayed with me, even as I slowed down further.  She didn't make fun of me when I tried to convince her that 7.5 + 4.5 = 13 (we saw a very confusing sign about free beer in 4.5 miles) and she walked with me when the pain really started to set in.  I was still able to run for the majority of miles 8 and 9, which put them at 10:20 and 10:16.  Right around the 15k mark, we turned onto a road with a different sort of pavement.  I'm not sure what it's called, maybe Hellcrete?  Satanment?  GRAVEL?  I've heard that some people love running on it, but it was hard on my hips and other joints.  Most of the next miles were spent walking, because every time I started to run, it felt like my right leg was being pulled up and held in a vice.  It was hard to bend it, and hard to straighten it.  13:26, 10:14, & 12:22 were my next 3 mile times.  

I had tons of energy, was in great spirits, and was still enjoying myself, despite realizing that I was not going to beat my first half marathon time.  (I did try to convince my friend at mile 12 that it was possible for us to finish around 2:05, and she didn't make fun of me for that math error, either!  She's so kind.)  I started running again when we got back on a normal road, and soon saw my dad, then my sister's oldest son ("Umm, do you know you're not running very fast?"  Thanks for the motivation, kid.  "No, I'm just saying, I mean, you're like, a runner, and I'm keeping up with you!  I'm not saying you're slow, but I'm not fast, and I think I could beat you to the finish line.  Oh, and everyone else is already done."  Yes. Thank you.), and soon after, I saw my mom, son, daughter, and other nephews cheering and clapping (Would that have been so hard, dear, oldest nephew?).  Mile 13 was at a 10:27 pace, and I improved to a 9:43 pace for the last bit.  (Maybe I did need the rough talk from my nephew?)

Well practiced at cheering for runners, these boys are.

I crossed the finish line, got a water and my medal/bottle opener, then turned back to look at the clock.  I may well be the only runner to feel this way, but my slower-than-planned, really painful race was G-R-E-A-T.  It reminded me of my third College Algebra class.  Nope, not the third class meeting of the semester, but about 1/4 of the way through the third time I had enrolled in the class (I actually only failed it once, and barely.  The teacher didn't like me [may have had something to do with how often she had to wake me] so I literally failed by 1 point.  The other time, I dropped the class after 2 meetings because I couldn't understand anything the instructor was saying.  I'm pretty sure he thought he was teaching astronomy.).  During that Algebra class, and during that half-marathon, I actually heard heard a click in my brain.  After the click in Algebra, I was awake, interested, and passing all the tests with flying colors (and as you can all now attest, I'm not really a "math girl").  After the race click, I realized that racing isn't about numbers for me.  It's about my own accomplishments, my strengths, and getting as much out of the experience as possible.  The time on the clock is just like icing on the brownies. Yes, I know it's usually 'cake' in the saying, but I contend that icing on cake is not an extra bonus, it's a necessity.  Icing on brownies, though, is an unexpected treat.

Result: 2:14:57

After the race, I changed clothes, fed Baby in the car, and re-joined my family.  The little boys got to wrestle and jump on each other in the bounce house, my sis and dad got age group awards, I snagged a free beer, berry danish, bagel and banana, and enjoyed the festivities for a while before we left.  The traffic had never actually been as bad as it looked from my perspective during the race, and getting out was a breeze.  My family and I stopped to get lunch at:

Where the sauces are the only thing hotter than the order-takers.  Imagine Hooters girls with happily married parents, and you'll have a good picture of the T.F. employees.

The (really pretty) girl who took our order had actually been volunteering at a water stop during the race, so I felt like a bit of a star, wearing my medal and accepting her, "Wow, I don't know how you guys run that far" with a smile.

Today's advice was going to be deep and important, but then I got caught up looking at taco pictures when I was searching for the Tijuana Flats logo image.

Is my mouth the only one watering right now?

So, you get this: take advantage of their Taco Tuesdaze deal.  2 tacos, chips and a soda for the low, low price of $4.99.  If you live somewhere without the addictive, delicious, worth every gram of fat tacos made by T.F., I'm very, very sorry for you.  You should probably move to Florida.  Ooh!  Then, you could run the Swamp House half marathon with me next year, too!

What do you like on your tacos?

Have you ever heard "the click"?

Not Even Half Of My Second Half

I took a poll, and discovered that my blog readers are ready for another race recap.  Okay, so, yeah, the poll was in my imagination, but I did think about it very thoroughly.  You can rest assured that your vote counted.  Yes, yours!  Those of you who did not vote for a race recap, stay tuned.  I'll write about your topic of choice soon enough.  Except for those of you who foolishly voted for "golf."  You could check out my scratch handicap shooting brother-in-law's blog for that (I don't know if I worded that right or not.  He's really, super good at golf, though.)  If you're new here and didn't have the chance to vote in my head, you may want to familiarize yourself with some of the options, like rock concerts, really cute kids, things that annoy me, and, well, racing.

A little over a year ago, at the prompting of my dad and sister, I joined the West Volusia Runners group.  I was reluctant, at first, to do so.  It wasn't the dues ($10/year-not a typo, it's really that cheap) or the commitment (none), it was just that I was intimidated by the other runners.  I had seen some of them at races in the past, wearing their cool matching shirts, finishing before me, and talking together about shoes and pace goals and courses.  I feel my face getting hot as I type.  It's embarrassing, how silly my reluctance was.  Especially now, when some of my favorite things to talk about are shoes and pace goals and race courses.  My dad was the first of our family members to join the group.  My sister and I scoffed, at first.  "We don't need to join a group.  We can always run together.  We love to run; what do we need with motivation?"  Then, my sis moved out of reasonable running distance from me.  Then, I stopped running with any regularity because of the Baby growing in my belly.  Then, she took Dad's advice and joined the group.  Once I returned to running, postpartum, I squashed my fears and nervousness and brought my $10 dues to a group run.  Just like that, I was part of the group.

The most recent of many group pictures without me in them.

To say that I'm glad I joined would be putting it mildly.  So many of the people I've met are truly inspiring.  There's M, who ran her first 5k in August, her first half-marathon in December, and her first marathon in February.  I literally didn't recognize her when I saw her for the 2nd and 3rd times after a couple of months, because she had lost so much weight and had increased her speed by so much.  (Sorry, M, that you had to keep introducing yourself to me!)  There's P, who is so kind and sweet and encouraging and persistent.  She constantly motivates others to improve, and seeing her finish her first marathon was nothing short of beautiful.  There's W, who races in the 70+ age group and is the friendliest morning person I could have imagined.  He's usually one of the last people to rejoin the group, but his dedication is unmatched.  Another M whose pace went from normal to jaw-droppingly fast over the past year.

Group founder/president/chief motivator/proof that good things come in small packages.  See why I'm embarrassed now, that I was intimidated?  

There are people who run while battling cancer, and dealing with tragedies.  There are young runners, old runners, married couple runners, single and looking runners, really fast runners, really slow runners, walkers, ultra-marathoners, trail runners, triathletes, runners that push their babies in strollers, runners that joined to exercise as a family, people trying to lose weight, people trying to improve their overall health, people running to cross items off their bucket lists, people running to meet people, people just running for the love of running.  I could go on, but I'm sure that you get the gist.  It's a great group, and getting to know some of the members over the past year has been wonderful.  Erm.  Maybe I should clarify- I just mean that I don't know all of them, only some.  Not that I only like some of them.

Race #11- Swamp House Half Marathon, March 3, 2013
              Psychological Prowess
When I was less than 2 weeks from delivering Baby in 2012, I volunteered at the running group's inaugural race.  Of course, the individuals had raced before, and many of them had run races together, as a group.  But this race was actually organized and put on by the WVRs.

At that point, I had run a half-dozen or so 5k races, and had briefly considered training for a 10k, but growing a tiny person had taken my focus far off of my running goals.  Many of my family members had signed up to volunteer at the half-marathon, and I agreed to get up at 4 a.m. and help with packet pick-up for reasons that I can no longer really remember.  I do recall thinking that my giant belly was a perfect, obvious excuse for the fact that I wasn't running in the race, and when people said things like, "See you out here next year!" I could just smile and nod and feel confident that they wouldn't recognize me the next year.  (I was right, you know.  Nobody recognized me.)  One year later, the race would be directed by our group president's new race management company, and I may have been more surprised than anyone to find myself so excited about running it that I wouldn't risk volunteering again and messing up my race.

Now, this post is already pretty long, and the fact that I've just now gotten to the beginning of the race might be a little discouraging.  Therefore, I will leave you with some teasers, continue this recap soon, and let you get on with your day.

Teaser #1-

Teaser #2-

Teaser #3-

Teaser #4-

Of course, I also listened to your mind messages about how much you love that I give a bit of unsolicited advice in each blog post.

Great saying, right?  Although that relates to today's post, it actually just served to remind me of something I feel very strongly about advising on: DO NOT pay money to see "Fast & Furious 6".  I haven't seen it, and I won't, unless at some point in my life I have some valuable information and someone is trying to torture it out of me. The fact that a movie like that made $120 million last weekend makes me want to take my family and move to a tiny village where there is no time or money or resource wasted and there are no televisions or people whose names start with "The".

Ever been intimidated by something/one embarrassing?

You only pay for quality entertainment, right?

Blogiquette

I still consider myself a newbie when it comes to blogging.  Is there a certain number of posts I'm required to write before calling myself a blogger?  Is blogging like running?  I hear people say that you can call yourself a runner if you run, but I must admit that it took awhile for me to feel like a runner once I started.  Maybe I'm a blogger, maybe I'm a runner who has written a few blog posts, maybe I'm a 40-yr-old nerd, living in his parents' basement, stealing pictures from the facebook feeds of strangers, and pretending to be a thirty-something mom of two who loves her family, exercising, reading, good zombie shows, and loud rock music.  I guess, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't much matter.

This would certainly be the result if someone googled "cutest baby girl"

Because of my relative newness around the blogosphere, I sometimes feel like I'm not qualified to read or comment on certain people's blogs, and certainly not to follow them.  Leaving a comment almost feels like asking a celebrity for an autograph.  But then, I also feel like a weirdo when I read them all stalker-like.  The kids are in bed, Husband is playing Madden, and I'm furtively typing in http://www.chrissiewellington.org/blog/ or http://mfranks.blogspot.com/ and quickly exiting if Husband shifts his weight and I think he's going to see what I'm doing.  It isn't just elite runners that I stalk, either.  It's some of the really good bloggers that totally amaze me (and everyone else) with their wit and talent.  And, sometimes I come across a blog like this one, or this one (with a breast, watch out!) and find myself nodding in agreement to like, everything written.  One of my favorite blogs to stalk, though, is shut up + run.  And, to be honest, the Moji giveaway is the only reason I'm admitting my even-weirder-now-that-I-see-them-in-writing blog reading habits.  Probably, I was supposed to mention the product and the giveaway in some normal, breezy fashion; like, "go check out my girl" or something.  I apologize if I've broken a blawg (Get it? A law for blogs?  Geez, I'm a dummy today.  I blame the cough medicine.), and I really do think you should check out her site and her giveaway.  Both are cool (unlike me).

While we're linking to great sites, I gotta mention (as usual) my sister's and my aunt's.  And since I'm already here, typing, I'll go ahead and complain for a moment.  I set a goal at the beginning of this year to run an average of 20 miles/week.  13 weeks into the year, and I was only averaging 10.  My IT band has been the thing keeping me inside, mostly, but it has finally started to feel (mostly) better.  This week, I had run 12 miles, and was going to have time to run the other 8 between today and tomorrow.  Being around lots of sick people finally took its toll on me, though, and I've been taken down by a cough from Satan himself, and head congestion to keep the cough company.  Whine, whine, whine, whine, whine.  And no, I can't have any cheese to go with it because dairy upsets my nursing Baby's tummy.  Poor, poor me.

My advice?  Read blogs.  And, don't be ashamed to like them.  Probably, the writers want you to.  I know I do!

Feel free to lodge a complaint in the comment section.  We can whine together.

Security!

Gimme an 'R'!  Gimme an 'A'!  Gimme a 'C'!  Gimme an 'E'!  Now put 'em all together and re-CAP!  Re-CAP!  Woooooooo! Insert high jumps, splits, and pom-pom shaking here.

Race #10- 26.2 With Donna (a.k.a. The National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer, a.k.a., The Donna) Marathon Relay, February 17, 2013
             Feelings and Numbness (If you don't have time to read two recaps of the same race, read my sister's, linked right there ^.  It's way good.  Really.)

You know, it's Spring like this that makes me recycle.  Maybe all those warnings about global warming are actually intended for us and not for our great-great-grandchildren.  All I know for sure is that I almost never complain about the weather, but I am so sick and tired of the cold, lately, that it seems all I do now is whine every time I go outside before 10:00 a.m.  (Yeah, the race was technically still during the winter, but it was a really cold winter for Florida.)

March 25, 2013, in Virginia.  Photo courtesy of Megan Connelly, used without permission.

And racing in the cold?  Well, it's not so bad.  But waiting outside to race in the cold?  Miserable.  Well, mostly.  Sorta.  Okay, if it hadn't been for my sis...  As it was, we got to wait together for her to begin her third marathon and me to lead off our relay team.

The Donna is held in Jacksonville, FL, which happens to be where my in-laws live.  Instead of paying for a hotel room, we were able to stay at my sis-in-law's apartment (thank you!), and were able to leave the children with them while Husband and I joined some friends from the running group for dinner (thanks!).  After the nightmarish time the night before my first half-marathon, it seemed wise to make every effort to get Baby to sleep comfortably.  To that end, we made a trip to Buy Buy Baby and purchased a special mattress that fits inside the pack-n-play, and an extra soft sheet made of the same material as her regular crib sheet.  Mom-in-law kindly laundered the new sheet (gracias!), and we set up the portable bed with crossed fingers. I rocked Baby to sleep, just like at home, held my breath, and laid her down.  She didn't wake up immediately!  About an hour later, I was ready for bed, too, and that's when she woke up.  Twice, I rocked her back to sleep, but both times she woke up as soon as I laid her in bed.  I resigned myself to another sleepless night, and laid down on the couch with her on my chest.  Husband covered us with a cozy blanket (merci beaucoup!), and I only woke up every hour or so when various body parts had fallen asleep and were numb.  As often happens, my discomfort was a blessing in disguise.  I had received a new phone from sis-in-law the day before (ever so grateful!) and did not set the alarm correctly.  I happened to wake up only 2 minutes after it should have gone off, and was able to get ready on time.  I left her apartment just before 5, with a full 4 hours of sleep in me, and zero caffeine.

As instructed by the brochure and website, my sis and I were at the start line 2 hours early, at 5:30 a.m.  The temperature was at the higher end of what had been predicted, and was just above freezing when we arrived.  Kim was the second runner on my relay team, and had also arrived extra early to board a shuttle bus to her exchange point.  We had a few minutes together near the gear check trucks, where there were several warming table/lantern/canopy things.  We then did our necessary in the too-cold-to-smell-bad port-o-lets, bid farewell to Kim, and made our way to the really wonderful Runner's Village, where we were offered free Dunkin' Donuts coffee, bagels, fruit, muffins, granola bars, juice, water, and admission into a giant, heated tent.  Again, my sis and I followed the instructions we had been given, and made our way out of the warmth, away from the coffee, and into our starting corral at 6:30.

The reflective stuff really works, eh?

Our race bibs were color coded by predicted finishing time, with the slower people in the corrals further from the start line.  When my sis registered for the marathon, she hadn't yet run that distance, so she predicted her finishing time to be much slower than it actually would end up being.  As a relay team, we were expecting to finish with the fasties, and so were given yellow (corral #1) bibs.  It was clear to us that she should have registered as a yellow, so we didn't feel bad at all about sneaking her into the yellow corral.  (And we would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky security guard!  More on that in a bit.)

Unfortunately for us, many many other runners did not follow the instructions.  Or something.  I don't know exactly why, but there were thousands of people still stuck in traffic when the race was supposed to start at 7:30.  And still, at 7:45.  They delayed the start time until 8:00, which I'm sure was best for the majority of the racers.  It's just hard to wrap a frozen brain around rational thoughts like that one.  My goodness, was it ever cold!

Still smiling = Before the first delay announcement.

Finally, the race began.  As the announcer was counting down to "GO", a very-serious-about-her-volunteer-work security guard stepped in front of my blue bibbed sister and told her to get out of line and go back to the blue corral.  She was brave and smart enough to refuse, and only had to endure 4 seconds of the security lady's nasty look before we crossed the starting line.

Just 8 days earlier, I had kept an average of 8:10/mile for 3.1 miles, so I was feeling really confident in my ability to do the same, or close to it, for my 6 mile leg of the marathon relay.  I may have said this before, but it bears repeating.  Confidence doesn't do the work for you.  Nor do happy thoughts, encouraging signs, or energetic crowds.  All of those things are helpful boosters, but make no mistake- in order to run fast, you have to run.  Fast.  This task is much easier to complete when your toes feel like toes, rather than large chunks of ice weighing down your shoes.  My first mile time was 8:41, and I still felt totally frozen.  My sis and I ran together for a couple of minutes between miles 1 & 2, but then she took off, and I wouldn't see her again until the finish line.  My second mile time was 8:45, and everything except my toes had thawed out.  The sun was shining, there were people cheering, I heard music playing, saw lots of pink balloons, streamers, and signs, and I was truly glad to be running for such an important cause.  Mile number three was 8:43, but the cold weather was about to take its toll.  I had recently learned that I experienced much less knee pain when I was running with proper posture and concentrating on where my feet were landing.  I had also figured out in my last race how helpful it was to breathe deeply.  Problem was, I still couldn't feel my feet to know where they were landing. I was also hunching over, bracing myself against the wind and cold.  And, each time I tried to breathe deeply (I couldn't close my eyes in this race, there were way too many people around), my lungs would burn and I'd start coughing.  I don't know how to spit, and when I take deep breaths in cold weather, I always feel like I need to.  Then, I feel like I'm choking or gagging, and it's not the greatest.  Mile 4 was slower than the previous 3, at 9:10.  Just after the 4th mile marker, my knee started screaming, and I couldn't ignore it.  I slowed to a walk for much of the 5th mile, and clocked it at 10:04.  My last mile was slightly easier.  My knee was still really hurting, but the crowds of cheering people were even more plentiful than they had been.  I saw a pair of women displaying their years of cancer survival on signs pinned to their backs.  I saw strangers holding signs thanking the runners for helping fight against breast cancer.  I thought about my mom, having been so brave through chemo and radiation and sickness and pain and hair loss and fear, and was grateful, as always, that she had beat breast cancer.  Finally, I heard someone shout my bib number just before I saw Kim, waiting to take the baton from me, and I was done!  My 6th mile time was 9:30, for a total of 54:something.

I managed to find Husband, MIL, and Baby really easily where they had parked a block away from the relay exchange point.  I let Baby munch on my medal for a bit, then nursed her in the warm car.  Not sure where her obsession with medals might have come from...

Baby and her Papa

Aunt Jenn

Big Brother

...those things don't run in families, do they?

I had Husband drop me off at the finish line area, left my jacket in the car (but remembered my mylar blanket, at least!), and waited for my teammates and sissy to finish.  The Finisher's Village was pretty awesome.  I got a free massage and some hot soup while I was waiting, and later took advantage of the free beer and samples of energy popsicles.  The only problem was that the FV was around a few corners and about 1/4 mile away from the actual finish line.  There was a huge screen set up so that family members could (supposedly) see their loved ones cross the line, but it was impossible to tell who I was looking at.  I couldn't even make out bib numbers or genders from the view on the screen.  I talked to Kim, who was with my brother-in-law and her husband (2 of our 3 other teammates) and learned that Jenn was on pace to meet her goal of finishing under 3:39:59.  I walked closer to the finish line, and was stopped by (can you even believe it?) the same way-too-self-important security guard from earlier.  She informed me that the area needed to be kept clear for the runners, and I would have to go the other direction.  I rolled my eyes as politely as possible, and stepped behind her.  She turned around and gestured for me to keep walking.  I did, until she turned back around.  I sneaked past her a few minutes later, and stood quietly, not blocking anyone's path or even standing close to anyone finishing the race.  She approached me again, and told me that I wasn't allowed to be there, or anywhere near there.
"I just need to see my sister cross the finish line!  She'll be here any minute!"
"You can see from the sidewalk back there."
"No, I can't see from there!"
"Well, you can't be here.  You have to keep moving."
Again, she followed me until I was safely away from any possibility of seeing the most proud and momentous accomplishment my sister had ever made.  At last, my brother-in-law and other teammates arrived, and I learned that there really is safety in numbers.  Nobody stopped us as we walked to the finish line.  After just a few minutes, when the clock had already struck 3:39:00, she came into view.  And, well, now I'm crying again.

Please enjoy this awkwardly posed picture while I grab a tissue.

She did it.  She qualified to run the Boston Marathon.  She has secured a spot for herself in a race that you have to earn your way into.  There is something so amazing, so inspiring, so phenomenal, about seeing someone accomplish a goal like that.  Add in the fact that I was watching my dear sister, oldest friend- someone who I had seen run her first marathon, and her second, who had inspired me to run and changed my life for the better, whom I knew had trained for months, and worked so hard, and well, now I'm crying again.

At some point, our last relay team member crossed the finish line, too.  My eyes were too full of tears to see, but we ended up in 11th place out of nearly 200 teams.  We had some pictures taken, shared some stories, complained about the cold (by this time, it was in the mid-40s), and I burst into tears several more times.  Eventually, I walked the mile to the shuttle bus that would take me back to where I had parked at the start line, and was able to compose myself a bit before I got behind the wheel to return to the rest of my family.  I cried again as I described her amazing finish to Husband and the in-laws, limped around on my still-sore knee, had some lunch, and home we went.

Result: Me- 6 miles in 54:xx
Bad Case de Runz (our actual team name)- 3:41:29
Jenn- 3:39:38 BQ BQ BQ BQ!

I'll repeat my advice for you today, in case you didn't see it earlier.  Check out my sister's blog.  You won't be sorry!  Oh, and you might want to grab a tissue.

Do you recycle, or can I blame you for the cold temperatures?

Been inspired, lately?