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!

Suck it up, Buttercup!

It's just one more race recap.  You can handle it.  I know I said I was done with the race recaps for a while, but, well, then I ran one more race.  It would be silly to just leave all the important to nobody but me details floating around in my head, don't you think?

Race #15- Suck it up Buttercup 5k, July 14, 2013
          H-E-Double Hockey Sticks! That's how we spell 'hill' in Florida!

A couple of people in my running group have made this phrase a mantra, of sorts, and everyone's favorite race director friend of mine decided to give us all something to suck up, so to speak.

Remember how I complained about the cold race day weather all those times?  This was not one of those times.  Florida.  July.  100% humidity.  In addition to being hot and sticky, the race course was definitely the hilliest course I've ever run, and likely one of the hilliest in the state.  One person called the hills "lung crushers".  Most people couldn't breathe well enough to get out any words.  Despite being a challenging race from every possible perspective, there were hundreds of entrants, all ready to suck it up and run.  The race directors actually ran out of finisher's medals a few days before the event, ~100 people still registered with the understanding that they were too late for a medal.

I, along with 25 or so other lunatics runners, ran a few miles before the race, and then ran to the race.  Yes, you read that right.  I purposely ran 5.5 miles (2 miles of which were on the very same race course hills) before running the race.  Then, of course, I had to run back to my car, so I put over 11 miles behind me that day.  (See, I'm training for a marathon.  I'm in marathon training.  I'm going to run a marathon soon.  Marathon.  Marathon.  Marathon!!!!!!!!)  Because of the extra miles, and because of the really-truly-significant-I-don't-care-if-it-is-Florida hills, I made it my goal to finish the 5k in less than 30 minutes.

I also made it my goal to sweat until I could wring out each article of clothing.  Congratulations, me!

My dad crushed his under 25 minute goal, and earned himself a 2nd in age group cowbell award.

The only bad part of this race, for me, was my stupid *#$%ing race-day brain.  Nothing makes me want to punch myself in the temple quite like the thoughts of, "Gah-hasp.  I've...ne-ver...pant pant...run...like...this...pant pant...eh-ver...before!" (Yes, I think out-of-breath when I'm feeling anxious.  You don't?).  The worst part?  I was thinking those stupid, breathless, nonsensical thoughts at the start of the race.  I wasn't fatigued.  I had just run the exact same course.  I have run many a race before.  Yet, there I was, slowing down before I even got to the first hill, thinking, "What...am...I...do-ing...pant...run-ning?  I...don't...ruh..huh..huh."  Yeah.  You wanna argue with me about deserving a temple-punch?

It just so happened that the article I had bookmarked in my 4-months-old issue of Runner's World to read last night was:

From what I understand, stupid *#$%ing race-day brain, or "The Blerch" is a bit of an epidemic among runners.  According to the article, it's super important to train and tame the brain and those ridiculous thoughts that pop up and turn swift feet into leaden ones.  I haven't actually finished reading the article yet (the magazine has been sitting next to my bed for 4 months, you think I can read a whole article in one night?) but I think it's good advice to teach your brain to think helpful, true thoughts.  'Specially when you're also training your body for a marathon (EEP!!!).

Result: 28:58

Do you ever deserve a punch in the temple?

Marathon training. (It's on my mind, couldn't help but mention it again.)

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?