Nashville (TN) Half Marathon, November 9th 2013

I’ve decided not all blog entries need to be 500 word essays, so here’s a quick list of Nashville highlights:
1) Fun weekend and break from work
2) Cowboy boots and country music (and more cowboy boots and country music)
3) A great race (not too hilly, a PR by over 10 minutes, and a sparkly medal too)

American Tobacco Trail 10 Miler, October 26th 2013

After a couple attempts at triathlons I decided it was time to focus on my running.  With my sights set on (someday) qualifying for Boston, it was time to marathon train again.  The first stop on my training route turned out to be the American Tobacco Trail 10 miler.  It’s a great trail; the soft flat surface of the converted railroad bed makes it a great place for training and racing.  I signed up for the race at the last minute, planning to tack on extra five miles as a training run and happy to support the cause (trail conservancy).  I was happy to discover my training was paying off, in this case with a 3^rd place age group finish (it was a small race, but a fast one for me, and I’ll take the spot on the podium when I get the chance).  And yes, I ran 5 more after the awards presentation.

I will never do a triathlon...

In August of 2012, a good friend of mine did Ironman Louisville.  I learned that they would be streaming the finish line live and thought it would be a great opportunity to have a party.  What would be more fun than eating good food, drinking good drinks, and sitting on the couch while your friend put herself through torture?  During the several hours of watching people run, walk, and crawl across the finish line, I swore I would never do a triathlon.  Not even a short one.  This was not a new revelation.  I had always enjoyed swimming and running, but there was no way you were going to get me to ride my bike further than the pool or grocery store, let alone above 10 miles per hour (at this point I was still riding the hybrid my parents bought for me in middle school).

A few days later I learned that there would be a half Ironman (or Ironman 70.3) in Raleigh the following June.  At first, I thought it might be fun to hang out and watch the finish.  If Louisville was fun to watch online, surely Raleigh would be just as much fun in person.  Somehow, I learned a few friends were thinking of signing up, and before I knew it, I had marked my calendar for the date the registration price would increase.  The night before it did, I found myself sitting at my computer registering for my first (although it ended up being my second triathlon).  I'm still not quite sure what I was thinking when I signed up.  While my training schedule still focused on being ready to run Kiawah in December, I suddenly had a couple more things to think about, for example buying a road bike, learning to ride a road bike, and remembering how to swim.

Even though I didn't "officially" start training until January (after Kiawah), November brought a new (2-wheeled) member of the household who quickly worked itself into my training schedule (my long runs improved significantly when I'd biked the day before, maybe there really is something to this "cross training" idea).  I was also thrilled to learn that I was not the only crazy person in the world, the race had sold out and I actually knew some of the other people planning to do it (do seems like it might be the right verb for this, or maybe it should have been survive, definitely not conquer).

January was here before I knew it.  I made it through Kiawah and it was time to start officially training for "Raleigh."  I had survived my first fall on (or off) my bike (long story short, I unclipped my right foot and tipped to the left.  In a gravel parking lot.  Thankfully no one saw it.  It's amazing how little you can do in the endless moment during which you are plummeting towards the ground).  I had a bike, which thanks to the gravel parking lot had a scratch or two.  Now time to find a pool, and time to swim.  After much consideration and the fact that the pool was on my way to work, it seemed that hitting the pool in the morning, before work, was my best bet (I have to be at work at 7AM, which meant out of the water by 6:30, you can do the rest of the math when I add in that I wanted to get in at least 45 minute workouts...).  Thus, three days a week I arrived at school with wet hair, smelling a little like chlorine, and ready to eat breakfast at my desk.  The important part was that I had found time to swim.  Afternoon workouts (yes, somehow I had managed to get myself into 2 workouts a day) alternated between running and biking (or quality time on a spin bike).  Saturday afternoons were spent on long bike rides, long runs, or both.  Social life?  I'm not sure I knew what that was.  Biking and running had become my primary social activities and for the times I made it out without two wheels, I'm pretty sure my friends got used to seeing me waddle around on tired legs and take in more calories than should have been humanly possible.  Thankfully, a few friends were as crazy as I was, which meant two things: 1) I had people to bike with, and 2) when we did make it out for happy hour on Friday, or to a party on Saturday, I had someone to talk to...as I knew little of what was happening in the world outside of training.

Somehow the stars aligned and I won a raffle, not just any raffle, but a free entry into an olympic distance triathlon in mid April.  Perfect.  The Raleigh half would no longer be my first, but instead my second triathlon, I would be an expert by then!  I signed up for the Beaverdam Olympic Tri (and managed to drag a couple friends into it with me).  Winning this entry might have been one of the best things that ever happened to me.  I learned, a lot.  For example, I learned how it felt to swim in a wetsuit, in cold, open water, with 40 other people.  I learned how to (and not to) transition from wetsuit to bike gear, then bike gear to run gear.  I learned that when moving from bike to run, your legs take on the consistency of concrete.  Most importantly, I learned to stop and wave to your 2 year old nephew when wriggling out of your wetsuit, making sure to answer all of his questions, including why your beagle wasn't out racing with you.  My family also learned that this was not the time to take pictures of me.

I used my new found knowledge to step up my workouts for the next two months.  They say that practice makes perfect, so I decided to practice.  Gym workouts now included "bike to run" practice.  Basically 12 minutes on the bike, followed by a quick mile on the treadmill, followed by 12 minutes on the bike, then a slightly slower mile on the treadmill, another 12 minutes on the bike, then a final mile on the treadmill.  My legs got better at transitioning (far from perfect, but better) and my running back and forth between equipment provided some entertainment for my fellow gym goers.

Friday, May 31st rolled around and it was time for packet pick up.  Or, sign your life away and get your house arrest bracelet (it was your access pass to transition areas, bag check pick up tag, and generally made you look pretty hardcore).  After signing away my right to sue for any peril I may succumb (including, but not limited to: drowning; falling off my bike; getting run over by another bike, or car; melting into a puddle on Hillsborough Street; or complete and total loss of sanity, you would think they might check to make sure I had my sanity to begin with), we wandered through the expo, taking note of the fact that everyone appeared to be in better shape than I was.  Stopping for a quick beer was definitely next on the agenda (during which I made sure to hold my drink in a way that best showed off my braceletted wrist).  Once the realization that this was really happening had set in, I headed home to pack gear for transitions and put my feet up.  Saturday morning I washed my bike to get it ready to race, I needed every advantage possible to make me go faster, and surely a little less dirt (and a clean chain) would help.  I dropped off my run gear and bike at transitions (there were 2 different transition areas with an intricate system of color coded bags and boxes).  Saturday afternoon and evening were spent resting up and eating (minus a 2 mile run, my legs had to do something).  I was in bed, alarm set, ready to sleep by 9:30.  Surprisingly I did actually get some sleep before my 4 AM alarm.

Following a nerve filled drive downtown and bus ride out to the start, we had some time to wait.  We watched the pros take off (and I tried not to think about how far they'd be by the time I started...they'd probably be on their flight home by the time I finished).  Being in one of the later waves, I watched the crowds on the lakeshore dwindle as I waited for my start.  Before too long I was in my borrowed wetsuit, knee deep in water, waiting for the whistle.  The swim passed quickly and apart from choppy water, there were no major disasters.  The bike ride was one of the most fun I'd ever had, roads closed and no stoplights made the 56 miles pass more quickly than expected and then it was time to run.  Just a half marathon.  This was the part I had done before.  It was also the most (actually, second most) painful half marathon I'd ever run (see the second half of the ING Georgia to read about the first).  What you may not know about Raleigh is that summers are hot.  Actually, quite hot.  We'd been lucky in training thus far, with few days coming close to 90.  However, June 2nd  (I guess that's technically late spring) brought with it temperatures in the mid 90s and heat I felt rising from the pavement the minute my bike stopped.  It was a somewhat hilly (at least it felt like I was running uphill most of the time), out and back run during which I spent a great deal of time watching for friends running the opposite direction.  After the longest 12.75 miles ever, I was almost done and approached the turn down Fayetteville Street.

If you've ever visited Raleigh, you've probably strolled down Fayetteville Street.  It's a street lined with restaurants, connecting the capitol building and performing arts center.  It's a gentle downhill, and this day was lined with spectators.  I have never felt as loved as I did during this last 3 tenths of a mile.  As I turned to head down Fayetteville, a group of friends appeared cheering on my right.  "Okay," I said to myself, I can pick it up for a few yards, I can look strong and try to impress them.  25 yards later, I had passed the group of friends, looked tough, and was ready to slow down.  Then I heard cheering and saw another group of friends, okay, maybe I could keep the pace up a little further, for this group too.  This time, as I prepared to slow down, my family appeared on the left.  This pattern continued the whole length of Fayetteville Street.  I was amazed at the number of friends, from work, run clubs, and church, along with family who had come out to cheer on the end of the race (and at the fact they were perfectly spaced the entire length of the street which prevented me from slowing down).  They pushed me through to the end and I cannot think of another time I felt so loved and honored by so many people (given the state of my legs, I couldn't feel much else).

As with most of my other races, I look back at the Raleigh half and ask myself what I learned.  I learned that I like biking, it's not as boring as it looks, and bike shorts and shoes look kind of cool.  I learned that swimming leads to upper body strength, which in turn leads to your favorite shirts being a little snug in the shoulders.  I learned to push myself and that I am fortunate to have a phenomenal network of training partners, friends, and family.  A few days after the race someone asked if I would ever do another one.  Tomorrow?  No.  Someday?  Of course.

Kiawah Island Marathon (SC), December 8th 2012

In the middle of the summer of 2012, I decided I was ready for another full marathon.  After looking at the fall race calendar, I decided on Kiawah.  I’d heard good things about the race from other runners and figured since it was a small island on the coast, there couldn’t be too many hills.

Fall turned out to be a good time to train, Saturday afternoons watching football soon turned into Saturday afternoons on long runs (which quickly turned Friday evenings out into Friday evenings resting up).  My training plan for this race was one of the ones I have most carefully written and closely followed.

Several weeks before the race I started to get worried.  With the help of my long run routines (bike rides the day before, chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, light blue Gatorade to drink on the run, and strawberry shot blocks to eat along the way), training had gone well.   My last 4 long runs had been perfect.  This was what worried me, I was afraid that it was about time for a bad run and that run would come on race day.  As hard as it was, I stuck to my schedule to taper (decreasing long runs and weekly mileage in the 3 weeks leading up to the race).  As great as it may sound to run less, the energy I usually spent rerouted itself to into nervous energy and worries about the upcoming race (as evidenced by my fingernails, or lack thereof).

Friday after work I dropped Josie the beagle off at her best friends’ house and loaded myself in the car for the 5-hour drive to Charleston.  I was equipped with several bottles of Gatorade, popcorn for the first of many car snacks, and chocolate chip pancakes, ready to eat the next morning (I was prepared to eat them cold, but was thrilled to find a microwave in my hotel room).  My plans for a pasta dinner were soon nudged out by my plans to get to bed early, and dinner quickly turned into a wrap, waffle fries, and lemonade.  Soon thereafter, I set an alarm clock (or 3) and tucked myself into bed.

I had set several levels of goals for this race; the most optimistic was to qualify for Boston (although 2 months into my training, I knew I probably wouldn’t make that one).  My realistic goal was to break 4 hours.  Going into it, I knew this was possible and decided to add more motivation for myself by getting a late check out from the hotel (this meant, the faster the race, the more likely I would be to make my late checkout and take a shower before the 5-hour drive back to Raleigh.  Even I didn’t want to spend 5 hours in the car with myself as gross as I would be).  If nothing else, I hoped to improve my previous time.

I woke up when the first alarm clock rang at 5, got ready for the race, microwaved my chocolate chip pancakes, and climbed into the car for the 30-minute drive from Charleston to Kiawah Island.  I had never been to Kiawah before and was eager to see the private island and golf course (although the shuttle ride in the dark was not the place for this to happen).  Runners staying off island parked and took shuttles to the start.  From this point forward, I was continually impressed by how well the race was run.

After picking up my packet, I found a quiet spot in a conference room to stretch and limber up.   Yes, runners were not ushered into a cold parking lot to wait, but welcomed into a warm conference room (with real bathrooms, breakfast goodies, and yoga instructors leading stretches) to wait.  Time passed quickly and before I knew it we were lining up at the start.

This year was a new course for Kiawah, in the past, the marathon and half ran the same course, with marathon runners running it twice.  This year, they routed a course I like to describe as an octopus, with a lot of “out and back” segments on one big body.  If you’re looking for a race with the sidewalks lined with spectators, and bands every mile, this one’s not it.  Instead, it’s a tour of a quiet island, with a chance to check out some beautiful beach houses.  The out and back course plan also allowed you to make friends with the other runners, passing the same people on each out and back section.

The finish line traveled through groups of families and friends together to cheer on a loved one.  Following the finish line was the best post race party I’ve ever been too.  Beyond bagels and bananas, there was a buffet lunch, including soups, pastas, cookies, brownies, and beer.  I’d met my sub 4-hour goal, which gave me time for a lunch before heading back and making my late check out.  My legs tightened up a little bit on the ride back to Raleigh, and I was a little sore the next day, but it was all worth the wonderful race weekend.

Kennebec Rail Trail Half Marathon (ME), June 24th 2012

Once again I was ready to escape the North Carolina heat.  After a couple days of camping and a short trek on the AT, I traveled to Augusta for the race.  I have enjoyed learning about small, local projects as I searched for races, and this one was no different.  The race was run as a fundraiser for the Kennebec Rail Trail, so as it should, the half marathon ran along the converted railroad bed with beautiful views of the Kennebec River.  After leaving Augusta, the out and back course alternated views of the river and wooded areas and small towns along the way.  It was an uneventful race, expecting to have tired legs after 2 days of strenuous hiking, I was happy to have the flat course and enjoyed a chance to take in the view while I ran (and somehow managed to set a PR).

Tacoma Narrows Half (WA), August 6, 2011

As a continuation of the travel to run (or run to travel) plan, my mom and I hopped on planes to Seattle for a week of travels and a half marathon.  After a few days in the San Juan Islands, we headed south to Tacoma.  The race started at the Tacoma Narrows airstrip before taking off towards the bridge over the Tacoma Narrows.  The morning was chilly, and while I was thinking about my nice, warm, hotel bed, I was also hoping that my warm weather training would pay off pretty well.

I soon figured out where I’d heard of the Tacoma Narrows and was jolted back to a middle school technology class.  A few miles into the race we crossed the Tacoma Narrows suspension bridge, the one that replaced “Galloping Gertie.”  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tacoma_Narrows_Bridge).  I suddenly remembered the video of the enormous bridge waving in the air like a ripple on the water.  Initially, I had eagerly anticipated the run across a huge bridge, but with images of cars being tossed into the water, I no longer looked forward to what seemed to be the world’s longest bridge (this one only swayed slightly in the wind).

After setting my feet back on firm ground, I began the trek through (or over) Tacoma, running from one side of the city to the other.  The race followed a greenway through the town, taking a tour around Cheney Baseball Stadium (where I got to see myself on the jumbotron), before a 3-mile descent towards Commencement Bay.

Having my mom waiting for me at the finish was becoming a common event, and I was happy to cross the finish line and see her there (at hometown races I usually run into someone I know so it’s a little strange to see no familiar faces along the course).  Race organizers decided against race medals for this one, instead handing out pint glasses.  Thankfully I had my mom to tuck mine away in her purse (unfortunately the sound of shattering glass as pint glasses hit the ground became a common occurrence).  Following the race we moved on to our next stop, a nice long hike at Mount Rainier National Park.

Karner Blue Half Marathon (WI), July 16th 2011

Having decided to run all 50 states, this was the race that gave me (okay, my sister) the idea that I should start a blog about my races, and the t-shirt that made me decide to include their pictures.  I began to schedule some of my running around travels (or my travels around running).  My mom and I were driving from Delaware to Minnesota for a family vacation so I thought it would be perfect to find a race along the way.  What better way to stay limber on a road trip?

After looking at the route we drove and doing a little research, I found a half marathon in Black River Falls, Wisconsin.  My training was going well and the date and location were perfect, so I thought it must be fate.

We arrived in Black River Falls on Friday the 15^th, found our hotel, and headed to the chamber of commerce for packet pickup.  I picked up my packet and learned that there were 42 other people running the half, if everyone showed up (the weather was a little rainy, and the forecast wasn’t great).  This was definitely the smallest race I had ever run!  We spent the rainy afternoon exploring Black River Falls, a great little town with ATV trails, lakes, parks, and tons of outdoor activities.  As much fun as they looked, it was pouring rain so we had a great time admiring them from the car.  The town was in the middle of its “Karner Blue Festival.”  I was curious to learn the meaning of the name of the race and soon found out that a “karner blue” is a type of butterfly native to the area (see t-shirt picture).  For a prerace dinner, my mom and I headed to “The Orange Moose,” a statue of which we could see from our hotel room.  While watching the rain run down the windows of the restaurant I dined a perfect prerace pasta primavera to prepare me for the next day.

Saturday morning the weather had not improved.  In fact, it was worse.  The rain was heavier and accompanied by a fair amount of thunder and lightning.  After breakfast at the hotel, I climbed in the car, prepared to arrive at the start and find out the race was cancelled.  We pulled into the parking lot to find a group of runners waiting in their cars instead of a race cancelled sign.  Surely they wouldn’t “let” us run in this.  Five minutes before the race was supposed to start, I ventured out of the car through a huge puddle to find other runners.  The trip through the puddle left me with soaked feet and the race hadn’t even started, awesome (but at this point, I didn’t think it was going to start, so wasn’t too worried).  I found a group of people huddled by the restrooms waiting to be called to the starting line.  Really, we were going to run in this?  It hadn’t been cancelled.  And as I mentioned before, my feet were already wet.  After reminding us that the race was “rain or shine,” the director called us to the starting line.  I had not done much training in the rain and was worried about how my feet (and wet socks and soaked shoes) would handle the water.

Before we took off, the race director told us to be careful, one of the roads we were headed towards was a little flooded from all the rain.  I wished I’d known something about the course to know where that road was and think about how I might get around it.  Then I remembered my feet were already turning to prunes, what was one more puddle (or small river as it turned out to be).  Just as the race started, the rain stopped.  I thought this might work out, I was wet (head to toe), but things were looking up.  Maybe I would be dry by the end.  We started out on a small paved trail that circles the town of Black River Falls before heading out into the surrounding farmland. 

Four miles into the race, on the third of countless huge hills (who knew there were hills in Wisconsin?  Not me!), the rain started again.  Soon after that, lightning and thunder joined the party.  Woohoo!  But, the race kept going.  With less than 45 runners (2 more had registered the day of the race, although I’m sure a few sane runners stayed home and dry), we spread out pretty quickly, which meant I could see a couple runners ahead of me, and a few behind if I looked.  Would anyone see if I got struck by lightning?  Or swept away into the storm waters?  I continued running, maybe it would be harder for the lightning to strike a moving target. 

The race passed through gorgeous farmland.  I admired the cornfields and said hello to a few cows, goats, horses, dogs, and alpaca, while at the same time wondered why they were standing in the rain instead of inside their warm, dry barns.  When I wasn’t talking to the livestock, I did my best to avoid puddles (or be ready to swim when I stepped in one).  Thankfully the terrain also provided a variety of places to hide from the weather.  Though I didn’t use any, I kept a constant lookout for places to dive for cover if needed (bushes, empty culverts, nearby barns).   

If the rain was not enough of a challenge, the middle of the race brought a new one.  Several miles in, we hit a freshly tarred and graveled section of road.  It didn’t take the full mile to remind me that tar is sticky (even when wet), and gravel sticks to tar, which sticks to shoes.  At this point I decided my shoes would never be the same.  I also gained a few “tar freckles” on my calves that stayed with  me for a few days.

I would like to say that the rain let up but it instead provided the dictionary definition of torrential downpours.  I passed a water stop around mile 9, where a rain drenched (but devoted) volunteer offered me some water.  We laughed together as I thanked her and told her opening my mouth was all I needed to do to get a drink.  Miles 10 through 13 wound back into town, where the rain seemed to have tapered to what seemed like a drizzle (compared to the earlier downpours).  The last mile ran down the same trail we started on, and at the finish, a small crowd gathered to cheer in the runners (there was a 5k finishing around the same time).  The rain completely let up just before I reached the finish, where after I crossed the line, my mom patted me on the back (for some strange reason she didn’t want a hug).  As the rain picked back up, we hurried back to the car.  Mom covered the seats in towels then drove back to the hotel.  The last thing I thought I would want to see was more water, but a hot shower felt great before we climbed back into the car to continue on to Minnesota.

The race was not a PR, but surprisingly close (especially since I felt like I swam most of it).  It was, however, one of my most memorable races so far.  While it was cumbersome at times, I decided I had two options, to either suffer through and curse the weather, or enjoy the rain and take in my surroundings.  I chose the second.