The race didn’t start until 9:30.  The late start time felt absolutely decadent, given that I’ve usually run 6-10 miles, had coffee for an hour and showered by 9:30.  We took our time driving to the race, getting our bibs and shirts, collecting our $2 refund for coming in costume, and then visited the bathrooms one more time.

After two days of a heavy, wet snowstorm, much of the snow was melted by Saturday morning.  The roads were completely clear and the dirt roads were only soft, not muddy at all.  A few minutes before the race started the six of us moseyed over to the starting line and positioned ourselves mid-pack.  I wanted to get a little closer to the front but my girls were pretty pleased with their positioning, so I let go of the competitiveness that was starting to simmer and joined them.  A nice racer man took our picture before the start.  Lots of people noticed us so we smiled and waved a lot.

The gun went off.  Slowly the pack started moving, and after a few seconds I remembered to hit “Start” on my Garmin.  After a few blocks the 10K racers turned left onto a neighboring street, separating us from the 5K racers.  I wasn’t in a hurry and kept my pace easy for the first mile.  My first mile is always the slowest, on purpose.  I’ve learned my lesson about going out too fast and hard in the first part of the race!

Kathy and I started running together after about ¾ of a mile.  It was nice to talk with her; it felt more “normal” having a conversation with a friend while running.  One reason races feel weird to me is the utter lack of conversation.  I’m used to hearing lots of talking, laughter, and banter.

We talked for a while until we headed up a hill.  Finally I realized that I was turning around to talk to her.  “Come on,” I encouraged her, wanting her to keep up.  “No, go ahead,” she panted, as she fell a little further behind.  So, I went ahead.  I’ve mentioned before that I have one pace on hills, and that pace is “get up the hill”.

After a few minutes a girl came up on my left and stuck with me.  She said that she could see my pink wig waving in the breeze and decided that she was going to catch me and see if she could stick with me the rest of the way in.  I was mildly flattered at the idea that my pace was a goal for anyone.  Wow!  I explained that I try to do negative splits and that I was hoping to speed up as the miles add up.  She thought that sounded good, and we kept chatting.  Her name was Kristin and she’s from Longmont.  She’s training for the Las Vegas Half Marathon in December (another one!  Geez.  I’m starting to think it’s a trend I’m missing out on).  I told her about our Saturday morning running group and trail running.  She said it would be fun to do that sometimes to keep motivated.

We reached the top of another gradual hill and headed down.  As usual, I let my legs open up and coasted down the hill.  It always feels so good to open up the quads after putting so much into the hamstrings on the way up. 

At the next aid station Kristin caught up with me again.  We ran and talked another half mile or so before she quietly disappeared.  I was at mile 4.5 and it was time to put some speed in.  I increased my speed and turnover and just started cruising.  Heart rate felt good, breathing was even, and I was bummed my running partner had vanished.

I hit mile 5 and increased speed by another 20 seconds/mile.  The cruise was good, the morning was crisp and clear, and the sky was a beautiful blue.  At about half mile to go I came up on a tall, super-skinny teenager who was poking along.  In my endorphin-fueled state I decided to be helpful.

“Do you run cross country?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he panted.

“You are so much faster than me, come on, pick it up a little, just a little further then.” 

He did pick up his pace a little, but I didn’t stick around to see it all.  We turned right and ran along the side of the football field, where I was totally expected to turn directly onto the field because my Garmin said we were at 6.2 miles exactly.  However, we continued up the road another block, turned right and then right again onto the track and into the race shoot 100 meters later, which added .22 to the race that my GPS said I just ran.

Here are the splits, according to my Garmin:

Mile 1: 7:55

Mile 2: 8:08

Mile 3: 8:01

Mile 4: 7:54

Mile 5: 7:19

Mile 6: 6:57

Mile .42: 7:13

 I forgot to stop my timer when I went through the shoot; I remembered to stop it about 30 seconds later so this is what I have on my read-out:  49:17. 

The official time is 48:48, with an average pace of 7:52/mile.

There are more pictures of us at the race; click on the Picasa feed at the upper right part of this blog to scroll through them.  Or, Friend me on Facebook and see them all there!

Directly after the race yesterday and now, thinking about the splits, I could have picked up my pace by 20-30 seconds in the first half of the race without sacrificing too much at the end.  I think this is more about mental preparation than physical ability.

All in all, an absolutely fun race.  It was well-organized, the volunteers were cheerful and it was a hoot to run in costume.  I’ll do it again next year!

Still with me?  Pity.  What an easy target you make, my pretty…

For the past two days things have been pretty lonely/angry/frustrating in my little world.  There have been many varied factors that have led up to this month’s hormone-charged rant.  Most of them were out of my control and thus, I started to seethe.  Have you ever seethed?  It’s a pressure cooker in there and not at all comfortable.  A sane female runner will often head out for a leg-pounding, heart-racing, mind-clearing tempo run that lasts as long as there is anger/frustration/yelling inside the brain.  She will return if and only if she gets the coveted endorphin rush that kills the blood-boiling rage of hormones that change her teeth to fangs every 28 days.  I didn’t get to run though.  Therein lies the problem.

It’s really all Bill’s fault.  He’s been working a zillion hours lately and comes to bed with his brain spinning.  He tosses and turns at night in a wildly successful attempt at making me as miserable as he is.  Fortunately I wake up with my eyes burning as if I had just hung out in a smoke-filled Denny’s pulling an all-nighter.  We barely see each other anymore and talk or text only to pass messages about the kids and our scheduling conflicts.  Money’s tight (as usual), my GI issues are acting up again, Colorado just got two feet of snow, school was closed for two days, it was too icy to run outside and the gym was closed.  Our street wasn’t plowed, I couldn’t get the car out of the garage, Bill had our 4-wheel drive so he could make it to appointments and I was stranded at home with a nasty case of cabin fever.  I’ve been bloated, achy and downing Midol at an alarming rate to kill the headache.

In my “Zen” moments I know that this too will pass, it’s all hormones, Bill is a lovely human being and this stress is hard on him too.  Let’s call a spade a spade for a moment though, just for kicks.  He doesn’t have the myriad of hormones racing through his delicate body every month, hormones that change from day to day, hour to hour, minute by minute as determined by what foods he’s carefully chosen or flippantly ingested.  He doesn’t stand in the closet contemplating what shirt to wear by what time of the month it is or how bloated his belly appears at 7 in the morning.  He doesn’t groan at the snail’s pace he just ran because he was so constipated by a week’s worth of PMS, or have to pull his favorite stinky sports bra out of the laundry because that’s the only one that will mash his boobs to his rib cage so the sore little trinkets don’t bounce while he’s desperately trying to achieve that endorphin rush so that his bowels loosen, his pants will fit and he’ll feel like kissing his spouse good-morning after a crappy night’s sleep and stepping in cat puke on the way to the bathroom at the crack of dawn.

Sometimes I wonder how women can even function with the ever-changing hormones we have to deal with.  Running is a constant in so many people’s lives (MINE! MINE! MINE!) and it’s just brutally cruel to think one week that I’m actually getting stronger and making progress in my form only to ovulate and not be able to stand up straight or do trail runs because it jiggles the innards too much.  So I back off for a few days and then my training schedule is shot and then I get “Runner’s Magazine” in the mail and there on the cover is a photo of a svelte, smiling woman reminding me why I adore running, especially trail running, and so in my eagerness to get out there I set a goal for myself to start training for a race.  I sit in front of my computer and find a race, register, and then realize that GOD DAMMIT, the race is going to fall exactly on, or slightly before, my period, which means that I’m going to be feeling like absolute SHIT and it’s not going to be a very good race.  Excellent.  The only thing for it is to rally a whole bunch of friends, have THEM register as well, and then we’ll all go out and run the stupid race together, have an absolute blast, and then go get coffee afterward which is the icing on the cake anyway.

 Do you know what I’m doing tomorrow?  That’s right, folks, I’m running the Eerie Erie 10K Halloween race tomorrow morning.  With a bunch of my girlfriends.  Don’t even ask me what time of the month it is or how I’m feeling.  I WILL bite your head off.  Did I mention I’m a werewolf?

Several factors contributed to my decision to skip our weekly ritual. Bill and I went out Friday night with some friends to see “Phantom” at the Candlelight Dinner Theater in Johnstown. We didn’t get home until 11:30, more than two hours past my normal bedtime. Bill wanted me to help out at the Fairview High School set construction day on Saturday morning, as there was a huge push to get as much help and as much accomplished as possible. (We’re building the set for the musical “42nd Street”, set to open November 10th, and we’re one week away from tech rehearsals.)  And finally, we were supposed to go to my nephew’s 3rd birthday party late in the afternoon for a family dinner. Thus, I decided to not sap my energies any further by running 8 miles when I was already sleep deprived.

Things didn’t go exactly as we had planned, though. My kids had a sleep over at their cousin’s house. When I called over at 8 AM to find out how things had gone, I got the news that my nephew had a fever and drippy nose. With all the illnesses and flu’s going around, Bill and I decided that leaving the kids there for the day was not a good idea. After we finished our lumber run to Home Depot, Bill dropped me back at the house so I could drive an hour over to my brother’s house to pick up the kids. Obviously, the birthday party was off.

Sophie, my (almost) 10 year old, said she was tired and had a sore throat. I decided to take her to my Mom’s house, a few minutes from the school, to rest and relax. Connor, my 7 year old, was very excited to join us for the set construction again. He adores the snacks I provide the work crew (bagels, cream cheese, hummus, fruit, veggies and such) and likes to carry a tape measure around “just in case”.

We got to the school by 11 AM, a full two hours later than expected. I was blown away by how many people had shown up for the work day. Parents and students were creating a bustle of activity that almost made me think I was not needed. However, I did manage to find something to do, and worked steadily for two hours before taking Connor to my Mom’s for the rest of the afternoon. I zipped back to the school for another two hours of construction before my sleep-deprived state kicked in full force. By that point a lot of the crew had left for the day. Bill felt like he needed to stay (he’s in charge of the set construction, did I mention that?) as long as there were people willing to work. So I boogied on home to take a nap.

By 6:00, Bill and the kids were home. Mom had brought in some grilled KFC chicken and side dishes, so everyone had eaten. I had no appetite, so just got some tea and started the bedtime proceedings. After reading books in the big bed, the four of us snuggled in and went to sleep. I think it was 8:00.

After a good ten hours of sleep, I felt moderately refreshed. I toyed with the idea of running, but kept getting distracted by cleaning. After three hours of bustling around I decided to head to the gym and get a good core workout with 45 minutes of cardio. It was snowing, so I took my time at the gym, hit the grocery store, and thankfully managed to miss most of the Steelers/Minnesota game.

So, I didn’t get to run on Saturday. I missed the camaraderie, exercise, coffee and beauty of the morning. Sometimes, life gets in the way like that and I figure it’s better to roll with the changes than try to be militant about routine.

Next Saturday, October 31, a group of us will run the Eerie Erie 10K Halloween race in Erie, CO. We’re planning on dressing up, so I need to find a good, pink wig that won’t fly off my head while I’m running. I’ll take my camera so you can see what the gang is up to.

Have a good week,

Lara