I'm still a bit sore but the weather's great and there are actual places to run here where I don't have worry about cars, and these places are flat...I have no choice. None of these things are waiting for me down South, only canine company and some cool youtube videos in the sauna-garage (I suppose I can add detoxification to the list). I am looking forward to reacquainting myself with my weights, but enjoyment from running is best sought up here.
Yesterday: I wrote the final exam for my one and only uni English course ever. I've gotten out of taking English during my first bout of higher education but, unfortunately, my 3 English OACs weren't recognized this time round. Originally, I considered "challenging" the course, but figured that I would probably learn something by going through the course instead of just writing the assignments and exam. So I told the tutor assigned to me to "bring it on," and he has been exacting. And I have learned a few things from the course: I am simply not wired to mindlessly produce summaries and rhetorical analyses (seriously, gag me), or to blithely leave an infinitive unsplit! Ok, I've gotten a lot of useful feedback too. Well, anyway, after popping through that final, I had to run, and fortunately I'd brought my capris. 7ish miles home, including a mango smoothie, some disappointing "ketchup" chips (they tried too hard to make them taste wholesome), bubble tea, and a mile-ish jog on the curving path alongside Richmond. I'd never run on that before, and at first the waywardness of the path irked me, but it's actually a nice counterpoint to the busy street after all.
Today: I don't know how long it was, 5 miles? I just went and then, at one point, I really went. It felt right to open things up, and so I went faster for about a km. "Faster" being relative, but it felt really good to feel as though I was gliding. Unfortunately, once I eased off again, the endorphins likewise tapered off, and I felt sore again, but no regrets.
I've also been walking the dogs 1-2 times a day; these are not my dogs. These guys are little but full of themselves and not trained (they pull worse than even my puppy, and she's 3-4 X their weight), but they're catching on quickly. I took the harness off one and the flexi-leash of the other because these devices train dogs to pull, and I wound up with two more responsive dogs. Unfortunately, they both go apeshit when they see another dog, but they're getting better. I'm not sure how far I'll get with them on this trip, but they've already made me appreciate my dogs!
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
"easy recovery run"
How about 5 km of mostly jogging rather slowly, and then food? :) This was yesterday. I'm still feeling kind of busted, but better than before. Other than a couple of tight points and a crazy appetite, I feel almost normal.
Tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to jog home 7ish miles from an exam.
Tomorrow, I'm going to attempt to jog home 7ish miles from an exam.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Mental fortitude = indignity?
Once again, I will try to be as clean and non-gross as possible, but marathons are not for the prissy, even though I saw more than one marathoner who made it past the finish line without apparently sweating. Who are these people without exocrine glands?
Anyway, at about 6:00 am, I decided to not bring the drop bag I'd packed the night before because I was worried about finding the drop station. At about 6:20 am, I jogged over to the start area, and the first thing I came across was the drop station. Regrets weren't really had until later, however.
My bathroom break perhaps cost me a place in my corral, but no worries: chip timing :) Meaning, my time getting to the start line doesn't count: timing starts when I cross the line. What's an extra minute or a few getting there? However, some people around me weren't as phlegmatic, and I felt myself absorbing their stress. We were standing on the wrong side of fencing, and I briefly wondered if I'd get pushed into it, so I stepped back. The gun went off, and eventually the crowd on the other side started to move. I waited until most of the people around me went over the fencing, and then I followed them to the start.
My goal? Under 4 hrs--I still wasn't sure that this was reasonable, but I did not want to run for more than 4 hrs. The temps actually felt nice at the start, but I knew that the clouds would dissipate and the mercury would rise. I had to keep things tight, but I could take the first five or ten K to loosen up.
How did I feel? Meh. I should have worn compression socks and better shoes while walking to-from and in the race expo the day before, and during the evening before that (I went to a bio-luminescent museum thingy and didn't dance much but was on my feet for 4+ hrs). My legs and feet were sore. However, my guts felt fine then, apart from some residual bloating from the rupture. This wasn't sore, though, and I hoped that it would actually strengthen my core in a quasi-pneumatic fashion. It may have, but volume displacement was likely more injurious later on.
I was in between the 3:55 and 4 hr bunnies, but the 4 hr bunny caught me after about a mile. She's a good friend of mine and we chatted a bit. The crowd was still very thick, though, and it was hard to stick together, plus I was beginning to feel like I needed to stretch out a bit more. Not push, just stretch. I didn't plan on pushing until 35 K--I just had to get round most of the Rockcliffe loop, and then I was good to push over the bridge and incline en route to the Market, and then I would be pretty much home.
Anyway, I drifted ahead of the 4 hr bunny, and this made me somewhat nervous, but my breathing was still dead easy and my first 5K was just under 29 minutes, which seemed suitably conservative. The crowd was still thick and I tried to stay in my own zone--I skipped the first water station because there was no way I could get to it; fortunately, I had anticipated this and brought a plastic bottle of water which I ditched later on.
I headed towards Wellington and the river in a daze. I was already experiencing difficulties with math (ex: was 3 km really just 1 mile? uh, NO) but I felt mostly ok. Running on Wellington was a big emotional boost thanks to the enthusiastic spectators! I did some more math, more successfully, and I figured out that I should take a gel every 7 km. And then we went through Tunney's Pasture and up and down the river a bit--I saw the next bunny ahead and decided that I would try to catch him or her by 20 km. At this point, I was mostly passing people, slowly but surely. I was picking interesting people ahead and gradually drifting to and past them. My breathing was still calm, even on the "hills"...nothing compared to the hills I deal with where I live now.
It was still overcast and slightly misty, which was lovely, and I got an added boost by seeing another friend. However, the sun came out, prompting me to start drinking Gatorade and eating oranges, neither of which I train with, although I know they're both gluten-free. I was drinking Gatorade and water at every station; in retrospect, I may have drunk a little too much. And as for the oranges--I don't even like oranges, but I've drunk orange juice before runs without issues before, and the orange slices held out by eager volunteers looked so bright and cheerful and refreshing...I took a slice every time.
When the sun came out, maybe around 15 km, my legs felt quite sore, and this was disheartening. Already? Boo-hoo, this isn't going to go down nicely. And then I gave myself a massive mental slap.
See, the thing is, I'm hung up on this ideal. That once-or-twice per month perfect effortless run, that feeling of weightlessness, of transcendence--I figure that I should feel that during a good race, at least for the first while. I should show up to the start line with sparkling fresh legs, while stiffness or discomfort, on the otherhand foot, automatically leads to a poor result.
But fresh legs are so rare, and probably endangered by the added couple of pounds or so of carb-loading and accompanying increased water retention prior to a long race. In fact, I should expect to feel kind of logey during a marathon. Ok, my legs were probably mostly sore from the museum dance-party on Friday, but they didn't feel terribly bad, and I had just 2.5 hrs to go.
The ultras earlier this year may or may not have improved my endurance, but they have definitely given me a new chronological perspective: what's a couple of hours or so? Just get this over with!
And that, and not Meb's mid-race existentialist question/inspiration WHY AM I HERE?, which I meant to remember but forgot, kept me going. Just get this over with. Thank the volunteers, be nice to other runners, don't be a total tool, but keep going.
I caught the 3:55 continuous bunny just a bit past 20 km, yay, in Hull.
Ah, Hull. My least favourite part. Hull's downtown is like a sandwich--a mostly pleasing bottom portion by the river, rue Eddy aside, then a scuzzy carcinogenic faux-Spam interior, and then the fluffy delicious upper crust, the Gats. Unfortunately, the race route goes past the bottom bread into the undesirable middle--admittedly, I have no interest in running into the Gats, so would prefer that the route just stayed on Laurier: look at the pretty museum, ooo, we're in Hull, two provinces, yo, ok, let's go. This year, however, the race route had an expanded loop in Hull, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I'm ok with urban scuzz, but it's kind of a downer dodging a grey-pallor zombie or two in the midst of an athletic endeavour. One year, I locked eyes with one unfortunate individual who looked like a thirty year old who looked like a sixty year old, and he frowned because I made him look up and stop before staggering further into the street. He wasn't moving fast but was in a hurry even though I'm sure his bar wasn't open yet, but what do I know? I never did the Hull scene, and I think he was actually on his way home.
However, the added portion of Hull was nicer than I'd expected, up into the upper-crust, and the crowds were great there too. Kudos, Hull! I had planned to take off my tank top upon crossing into Hull because of the propriety--taking one's clothes off is part of the local economy, after all--but out of gratitude and respect, I kept my tank top on until I was past the families cheering. There were still some dingy streets, but at least their effect was diluted. As for the hills, I barely felt them. I still pushed through Hull a bit, though! I was anxious to get back into my own province.
I had decided to pass the 3:55 continuous bunny by 25 km, but I just couldn't get there. I even apparently missed the 25 km mat, but I see from the results that others also did, also without suspiciously speeding up by the next split, so there may have been a glitch. I don't remember the mat, though, just the bunny, and a vague brewing discontent in my abdominal region. I don't remember when that started creeping up, but I noticed in Hull. At that point, it wasn't much of a concern. "Maybe I should lay off all this Gatorade." But the colours taste so nice!
On Alexandr(i)a Bridge (I've met other locals who grew up saying the extra inexplicable "i"), I realized that the bunny was in fact the 3:50 continuous bunny. There was no 3:55 10 and 1 bunny, not to mention that it was a bit irrational to assume that the 10 and 1 bunnies would be ahead of the continuous ones. However, my discovery was very inspiring for a few reasons. Could I actually catch the 3:45 bunny? If not, the 10 and 1 3:50 bunny, whom I knew? If not, could I get under 3:50? If not, could I still PB?
My marathon PB, admittedly soft, is 3:50:59. I've also run at least two 3:51:xx races, and one or two more in the low 3:50s. That is my plateau.
Last time I ran the Ottawa marathon, I caught up to the 3:50 bunny past 30 km and foolishly pushed past, and was caught umpteen km later, and wilted to a 3:53 finish. Not this time! I was determined to stick with him until 30 km or more likely 35 km, just to be sure.
However, I couldn't even catch that bunny! People were starting to drop pace and I kept getting boxed in. Whenever I got close to the bunny, I'd cruise up to people wilting ahead and beside me, without anywhere else to go until gaps opened up again. It was frustrating, but I reminded myself that I could use a break. My breathing was still super easy, and I'd gotten used to ignoring my legs, but my guts were getting worse.
Finally, I got to the bunny--and past him. It was on a hill, one which I wasn't really feeling, but I guess everyone else was. Whooops. Oh, well, I saw the 3:50 10 and 1 bunny, and ran with him for about a half minute before he had to take a mandated walk break. He passed me soon after that minute, but I trailed not too badly.
The Rockcliffe loop was honestly a blur. I was tired and hot, but I was mainly worried about the GI issue. It wasn't at the point of stopping for a porta potty, but it was increasingly irksome. 30-34 km were a mild wall of sorts, and then the douleur lifted, everything felt better, and I caught the 3:50 10 and 1 bunny and passed him. Yay, I was picking up the pace, I would finish strong--I still had to be careful, but there was the 35 km marker--I was past the way with just 7 km to go!
I guess I had a good km or two before my problems returned, redoubled. I managed to hang onto a decent cadence, I think, but my stomach soured and I almost skipped my last gel at 36-37 km (I'd intentionally postponed it earlier, not expecting to not want it at all). At this point, I started feeling the inclines, particularly the long up to the Market.
The crowds were so thick in the Market! It was amazing noise and I got the tinglies, but I was also distracted by intestinal ferment. It was progressing from annoying to horrible to nasty words and nastier propositions. I needed a bathroom, definitely, but once I passed the 38 km mark, I figured that I should try to hold it in. Just clench. I ran for years with supposed IBS without bingo-dabbing once--I haven't crapped my pants in over three decades--surely, just less than 4 km more wouldn't seal the deal. I should mention that I hadn't stopped running once during the race, not even to grab water--I was concerned that, if I stopped, I would find it very difficult to resume running. No, I had to keep going.
Plus, the 3:50 bunny passed me. dammit! I was so out of it, I thought it was the 10 and 1 bunny, my friend; I couldn't see much except for the signs. I was dealing with ferocious cramps and burning by this point, but I didn't want to drop off the pace too much--I had to keep that sign in my sights. Clench, clench, and that goes for cadence too. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, get this over with. Use the spasms as propulsion. Just end it. But not too quickly, just in case...it was a delicate balance.
39 - 41 km were exceedingly grim. I was so soaked with sweat and water, I couldn't tell exactly what was happening. I was not attuned to the final, critical sphincter, either: the spasms were so distracting. I even worried that the backs of my legs were splattered. I've seen and cringed at the race photos of other unfortunates. However, once I saw 41 km, my mood brightened. Almost done! The 3:50 bunny was closer, but I couldn't catch him, but at least I would be within a minute or so--considering my delayed start, I had a good chance of getting under 3:50.
Another friend took a photo of me in the final stretch. I am so bloated that I look like I'm edging into the second trimester, and I'm drenched, but I'm smiling. Just a few minutes left, that's all, that's nothing!
However, there was no sprint to the finish. I still had hopes, and so I reined myself and coasted into what felt like the world's longest finishing chute. Seriously, there was a lot of walking after the end. I got my medal and a space blanket, and then I got stronger doubts because the volunteer draped the short end around my shoulders, leaving the long end hanging down my back to my ankles. Was she helping me cover up something spectacular? I couldn't smell anything, not even the runners pressed around me. It was packed. Hey, at least nobody would be able to pinpoint me.
I wanted to grab a bottle of water and head to the closest porta potty. Since I had no drop bag, and didn't know of a nearby full toilet with private sink, that was my best option in case. However, admirably, the race organizers had decided to cut back on waste by using paper cups and refill stations. I filled two cups and rinsed out a miserable soul-crushing but fortunately very very minor incident*, released the rest of the kraken, and then I refilled the cups and found an even better porta potty with more room and a hand-sanitizer dispenser--pro quality, there! That fixed me up nicely for an hour or two hanging out in the sun, listening to music, drinking a free protein shake. The race organizers did well with the post-race area, apart from letting family members into Confederation Park. There is just not enough room for them there, and the mass of people trying to find their runners impedes the flow. Hopefully they fix this and set up numbers or other identifiable stations spread further out to aid reunions. However, adding live music to the finish area is a brilliant idea.
There was also a nice collection of snacks for sale too, but I couldn't stomach anything that wasn't liquid, nor the $7 price for fresh lemonade (I may have misread that). I didn't even eat much that evening.
Unfortunately, I didn't break 3:50, but I busted my six-year old PB. I was irked, though--had I more info, I would've pushed more, but maybe that would've been disastrous. Self-pride aside, I got off really really lightly after all. But, man, I gotta be proud at how deeply I dug. I've never been that determined before during a race. My mind was rock-solid, even though I didn't have tunes. I just accepted discomfort. Even during my worst, my darkest race experience to date, my pace didn't drop much--my worst split was actually the first 5K, and my second worst, 35-40 km, was still under 28 minutes.
What caused my issues? Probably too much Gatorade and oranges, coupled with the warmth, humidity, and with fluid retention from before--there probably just wasn't enough space to begin with, never mind once things started to sour. Plus there may have been some gluten in the museum sushi after all, even though there was no soy sauce or imitation crab.
Anyway, huge thanks to the race organizers and volunteers for another super race weekend!!!
Oh, and I can walk down stairs now!
* However, this particular issue is essentially binary (akin to being just a teeny little bit pregnant...nope, doesn't compute), and I debated not mentioning it at all. Maybe I'll regret this if I run for office, unless it gives me the human touch. However, I figure that it'll put all my subsequent bad gut days into perspective, and maybe my divulgence will also confer second-hand benefits: fair readers, sometimes you can push more than you realize, but sometimes the line is thinner than you think. I really am not this dedicated or ambitious. Be careful out there, kids!
Anyway, at about 6:00 am, I decided to not bring the drop bag I'd packed the night before because I was worried about finding the drop station. At about 6:20 am, I jogged over to the start area, and the first thing I came across was the drop station. Regrets weren't really had until later, however.
My bathroom break perhaps cost me a place in my corral, but no worries: chip timing :) Meaning, my time getting to the start line doesn't count: timing starts when I cross the line. What's an extra minute or a few getting there? However, some people around me weren't as phlegmatic, and I felt myself absorbing their stress. We were standing on the wrong side of fencing, and I briefly wondered if I'd get pushed into it, so I stepped back. The gun went off, and eventually the crowd on the other side started to move. I waited until most of the people around me went over the fencing, and then I followed them to the start.
My goal? Under 4 hrs--I still wasn't sure that this was reasonable, but I did not want to run for more than 4 hrs. The temps actually felt nice at the start, but I knew that the clouds would dissipate and the mercury would rise. I had to keep things tight, but I could take the first five or ten K to loosen up.
How did I feel? Meh. I should have worn compression socks and better shoes while walking to-from and in the race expo the day before, and during the evening before that (I went to a bio-luminescent museum thingy and didn't dance much but was on my feet for 4+ hrs). My legs and feet were sore. However, my guts felt fine then, apart from some residual bloating from the rupture. This wasn't sore, though, and I hoped that it would actually strengthen my core in a quasi-pneumatic fashion. It may have, but volume displacement was likely more injurious later on.
I was in between the 3:55 and 4 hr bunnies, but the 4 hr bunny caught me after about a mile. She's a good friend of mine and we chatted a bit. The crowd was still very thick, though, and it was hard to stick together, plus I was beginning to feel like I needed to stretch out a bit more. Not push, just stretch. I didn't plan on pushing until 35 K--I just had to get round most of the Rockcliffe loop, and then I was good to push over the bridge and incline en route to the Market, and then I would be pretty much home.
Anyway, I drifted ahead of the 4 hr bunny, and this made me somewhat nervous, but my breathing was still dead easy and my first 5K was just under 29 minutes, which seemed suitably conservative. The crowd was still thick and I tried to stay in my own zone--I skipped the first water station because there was no way I could get to it; fortunately, I had anticipated this and brought a plastic bottle of water which I ditched later on.
I headed towards Wellington and the river in a daze. I was already experiencing difficulties with math (ex: was 3 km really just 1 mile? uh, NO) but I felt mostly ok. Running on Wellington was a big emotional boost thanks to the enthusiastic spectators! I did some more math, more successfully, and I figured out that I should take a gel every 7 km. And then we went through Tunney's Pasture and up and down the river a bit--I saw the next bunny ahead and decided that I would try to catch him or her by 20 km. At this point, I was mostly passing people, slowly but surely. I was picking interesting people ahead and gradually drifting to and past them. My breathing was still calm, even on the "hills"...nothing compared to the hills I deal with where I live now.
It was still overcast and slightly misty, which was lovely, and I got an added boost by seeing another friend. However, the sun came out, prompting me to start drinking Gatorade and eating oranges, neither of which I train with, although I know they're both gluten-free. I was drinking Gatorade and water at every station; in retrospect, I may have drunk a little too much. And as for the oranges--I don't even like oranges, but I've drunk orange juice before runs without issues before, and the orange slices held out by eager volunteers looked so bright and cheerful and refreshing...I took a slice every time.
When the sun came out, maybe around 15 km, my legs felt quite sore, and this was disheartening. Already? Boo-hoo, this isn't going to go down nicely. And then I gave myself a massive mental slap.
See, the thing is, I'm hung up on this ideal. That once-or-twice per month perfect effortless run, that feeling of weightlessness, of transcendence--I figure that I should feel that during a good race, at least for the first while. I should show up to the start line with sparkling fresh legs, while stiffness or discomfort, on the other
But fresh legs are so rare, and probably endangered by the added couple of pounds or so of carb-loading and accompanying increased water retention prior to a long race. In fact, I should expect to feel kind of logey during a marathon. Ok, my legs were probably mostly sore from the museum dance-party on Friday, but they didn't feel terribly bad, and I had just 2.5 hrs to go.
The ultras earlier this year may or may not have improved my endurance, but they have definitely given me a new chronological perspective: what's a couple of hours or so? Just get this over with!
And that, and not Meb's mid-race existentialist question/inspiration WHY AM I HERE?, which I meant to remember but forgot, kept me going. Just get this over with. Thank the volunteers, be nice to other runners, don't be a total tool, but keep going.
I caught the 3:55 continuous bunny just a bit past 20 km, yay, in Hull.
Ah, Hull. My least favourite part. Hull's downtown is like a sandwich--a mostly pleasing bottom portion by the river, rue Eddy aside, then a scuzzy carcinogenic faux-Spam interior, and then the fluffy delicious upper crust, the Gats. Unfortunately, the race route goes past the bottom bread into the undesirable middle--admittedly, I have no interest in running into the Gats, so would prefer that the route just stayed on Laurier: look at the pretty museum, ooo, we're in Hull, two provinces, yo, ok, let's go. This year, however, the race route had an expanded loop in Hull, and I wasn't looking forward to it. I'm ok with urban scuzz, but it's kind of a downer dodging a grey-pallor zombie or two in the midst of an athletic endeavour. One year, I locked eyes with one unfortunate individual who looked like a thirty year old who looked like a sixty year old, and he frowned because I made him look up and stop before staggering further into the street. He wasn't moving fast but was in a hurry even though I'm sure his bar wasn't open yet, but what do I know? I never did the Hull scene, and I think he was actually on his way home.
However, the added portion of Hull was nicer than I'd expected, up into the upper-crust, and the crowds were great there too. Kudos, Hull! I had planned to take off my tank top upon crossing into Hull because of the propriety--taking one's clothes off is part of the local economy, after all--but out of gratitude and respect, I kept my tank top on until I was past the families cheering. There were still some dingy streets, but at least their effect was diluted. As for the hills, I barely felt them. I still pushed through Hull a bit, though! I was anxious to get back into my own province.
I had decided to pass the 3:55 continuous bunny by 25 km, but I just couldn't get there. I even apparently missed the 25 km mat, but I see from the results that others also did, also without suspiciously speeding up by the next split, so there may have been a glitch. I don't remember the mat, though, just the bunny, and a vague brewing discontent in my abdominal region. I don't remember when that started creeping up, but I noticed in Hull. At that point, it wasn't much of a concern. "Maybe I should lay off all this Gatorade." But the colours taste so nice!
On Alexandr(i)a Bridge (I've met other locals who grew up saying the extra inexplicable "i"), I realized that the bunny was in fact the 3:50 continuous bunny. There was no 3:55 10 and 1 bunny, not to mention that it was a bit irrational to assume that the 10 and 1 bunnies would be ahead of the continuous ones. However, my discovery was very inspiring for a few reasons. Could I actually catch the 3:45 bunny? If not, the 10 and 1 3:50 bunny, whom I knew? If not, could I get under 3:50? If not, could I still PB?
My marathon PB, admittedly soft, is 3:50:59. I've also run at least two 3:51:xx races, and one or two more in the low 3:50s. That is my plateau.
Last time I ran the Ottawa marathon, I caught up to the 3:50 bunny past 30 km and foolishly pushed past, and was caught umpteen km later, and wilted to a 3:53 finish. Not this time! I was determined to stick with him until 30 km or more likely 35 km, just to be sure.
However, I couldn't even catch that bunny! People were starting to drop pace and I kept getting boxed in. Whenever I got close to the bunny, I'd cruise up to people wilting ahead and beside me, without anywhere else to go until gaps opened up again. It was frustrating, but I reminded myself that I could use a break. My breathing was still super easy, and I'd gotten used to ignoring my legs, but my guts were getting worse.
Finally, I got to the bunny--and past him. It was on a hill, one which I wasn't really feeling, but I guess everyone else was. Whooops. Oh, well, I saw the 3:50 10 and 1 bunny, and ran with him for about a half minute before he had to take a mandated walk break. He passed me soon after that minute, but I trailed not too badly.
The Rockcliffe loop was honestly a blur. I was tired and hot, but I was mainly worried about the GI issue. It wasn't at the point of stopping for a porta potty, but it was increasingly irksome. 30-34 km were a mild wall of sorts, and then the douleur lifted, everything felt better, and I caught the 3:50 10 and 1 bunny and passed him. Yay, I was picking up the pace, I would finish strong--I still had to be careful, but there was the 35 km marker--I was past the way with just 7 km to go!
I guess I had a good km or two before my problems returned, redoubled. I managed to hang onto a decent cadence, I think, but my stomach soured and I almost skipped my last gel at 36-37 km (I'd intentionally postponed it earlier, not expecting to not want it at all). At this point, I started feeling the inclines, particularly the long up to the Market.
The crowds were so thick in the Market! It was amazing noise and I got the tinglies, but I was also distracted by intestinal ferment. It was progressing from annoying to horrible to nasty words and nastier propositions. I needed a bathroom, definitely, but once I passed the 38 km mark, I figured that I should try to hold it in. Just clench. I ran for years with supposed IBS without bingo-dabbing once--I haven't crapped my pants in over three decades--surely, just less than 4 km more wouldn't seal the deal. I should mention that I hadn't stopped running once during the race, not even to grab water--I was concerned that, if I stopped, I would find it very difficult to resume running. No, I had to keep going.
Plus, the 3:50 bunny passed me. dammit! I was so out of it, I thought it was the 10 and 1 bunny, my friend; I couldn't see much except for the signs. I was dealing with ferocious cramps and burning by this point, but I didn't want to drop off the pace too much--I had to keep that sign in my sights. Clench, clench, and that goes for cadence too. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, get this over with. Use the spasms as propulsion. Just end it. But not too quickly, just in case...it was a delicate balance.
39 - 41 km were exceedingly grim. I was so soaked with sweat and water, I couldn't tell exactly what was happening. I was not attuned to the final, critical sphincter, either: the spasms were so distracting. I even worried that the backs of my legs were splattered. I've seen and cringed at the race photos of other unfortunates. However, once I saw 41 km, my mood brightened. Almost done! The 3:50 bunny was closer, but I couldn't catch him, but at least I would be within a minute or so--considering my delayed start, I had a good chance of getting under 3:50.
Another friend took a photo of me in the final stretch. I am so bloated that I look like I'm edging into the second trimester, and I'm drenched, but I'm smiling. Just a few minutes left, that's all, that's nothing!
However, there was no sprint to the finish. I still had hopes, and so I reined myself and coasted into what felt like the world's longest finishing chute. Seriously, there was a lot of walking after the end. I got my medal and a space blanket, and then I got stronger doubts because the volunteer draped the short end around my shoulders, leaving the long end hanging down my back to my ankles. Was she helping me cover up something spectacular? I couldn't smell anything, not even the runners pressed around me. It was packed. Hey, at least nobody would be able to pinpoint me.
I wanted to grab a bottle of water and head to the closest porta potty. Since I had no drop bag, and didn't know of a nearby full toilet with private sink, that was my best option in case. However, admirably, the race organizers had decided to cut back on waste by using paper cups and refill stations. I filled two cups and rinsed out a miserable soul-crushing but fortunately very very minor incident*, released the rest of the kraken, and then I refilled the cups and found an even better porta potty with more room and a hand-sanitizer dispenser--pro quality, there! That fixed me up nicely for an hour or two hanging out in the sun, listening to music, drinking a free protein shake. The race organizers did well with the post-race area, apart from letting family members into Confederation Park. There is just not enough room for them there, and the mass of people trying to find their runners impedes the flow. Hopefully they fix this and set up numbers or other identifiable stations spread further out to aid reunions. However, adding live music to the finish area is a brilliant idea.
There was also a nice collection of snacks for sale too, but I couldn't stomach anything that wasn't liquid, nor the $7 price for fresh lemonade (I may have misread that). I didn't even eat much that evening.
Unfortunately, I didn't break 3:50, but I busted my six-year old PB. I was irked, though--had I more info, I would've pushed more, but maybe that would've been disastrous. Self-pride aside, I got off really really lightly after all. But, man, I gotta be proud at how deeply I dug. I've never been that determined before during a race. My mind was rock-solid, even though I didn't have tunes. I just accepted discomfort. Even during my worst, my darkest race experience to date, my pace didn't drop much--my worst split was actually the first 5K, and my second worst, 35-40 km, was still under 28 minutes.
What caused my issues? Probably too much Gatorade and oranges, coupled with the warmth, humidity, and with fluid retention from before--there probably just wasn't enough space to begin with, never mind once things started to sour. Plus there may have been some gluten in the museum sushi after all, even though there was no soy sauce or imitation crab.
Anyway, huge thanks to the race organizers and volunteers for another super race weekend!!!
Oh, and I can walk down stairs now!
* However, this particular issue is essentially binary (akin to being just a teeny little bit pregnant...nope, doesn't compute), and I debated not mentioning it at all. Maybe I'll regret this if I run for office, unless it gives me the human touch. However, I figure that it'll put all my subsequent bad gut days into perspective, and maybe my divulgence will also confer second-hand benefits: fair readers, sometimes you can push more than you realize, but sometimes the line is thinner than you think. I really am not this dedicated or ambitious. Be careful out there, kids!
Monday, May 26, 2014
what a race, what a weekend
I will write more soon, but conditions were iffy (poor legs and guts and weather) but I was strong mentally and I PBed ever so slightly BUT I still have regrets--this was an eye-opener of a race!
Saturday, May 24, 2014
My luggage and I
Man, Washington...I can bust through that airport like nobody else, and have laid down some pretty breathtaking sprints through it back in the day. This time, our arrival and departure gates were but several apart, so even though we had approximately -5 minutes between landing and the start of boarding, we strode over with 2 minutes to spare.
Our luggage, though, wasn't as quick. It never is (so far, I've beat my bag 3 times during narrow transfers). Stupidly, I checked not only all of my racing stuff, including shoes, but also some UV ink pens that were supposed to be used last night at a fun event. Well, I guess I'm not exactly disciplined these days. My taper was ???, and I haven't been staying off my feet today, and in a few hours I'll walk some more to go watch the 10K, but our luggage arrived this morning! Even better, the guy who delivered it also drives a hotel shuttle, and he has been transporting some of the elite runners. So we talked about the sport of running for a few minutes because he's a fan too. It's just so rare to meet other fans apart from in run clubs or at events.
Anyway, I'm feeling tired, but pumped! So glad to be back home!
Our luggage, though, wasn't as quick. It never is (so far, I've beat my bag 3 times during narrow transfers). Stupidly, I checked not only all of my racing stuff, including shoes, but also some UV ink pens that were supposed to be used last night at a fun event. Well, I guess I'm not exactly disciplined these days. My taper was ???, and I haven't been staying off my feet today, and in a few hours I'll walk some more to go watch the 10K, but our luggage arrived this morning! Even better, the guy who delivered it also drives a hotel shuttle, and he has been transporting some of the elite runners. So we talked about the sport of running for a few minutes because he's a fan too. It's just so rare to meet other fans apart from in run clubs or at events.
Anyway, I'm feeling tired, but pumped! So glad to be back home!
Monday, May 19, 2014
seven year itch
I will do my best to not be graphic. Unfortunately, I've been wasting the recent lovely weather after all :(. I didn't run on Saturday, but walked a lot (including to/from a beer festival which also had some wine-tasting for us glutards!), and I was looking forward to a 10ish mile run on Sunday, and maybe more running on Monday. I was planning on making best use of the weather until it got hot again, taper be damned.
Unfortunately, near the end of the beer festival on Saturday, I started feeling "off." Was I just dehydrated? or was there indeed gluten in the hotdogs? We walked further and had more drinks and some food, and the situation gradually worsened. By nine, it was clear that something was up. By midnight, I was wondering if I would have to go to the ER, but I decided to wait and see, and several hours later, I finally fell asleep.
I've been down this road before, during the spring of 2000 (or 2001?) and during the spring of 2007--I guess it's a seven-year cycle. My right ovary is the creative culprit: bored with the usual tiny monthly ovum-releasing cyst, it occasionally embarks on a golf ball-sized project (one doctor suggested that the same sack or structure is being reused). Unfortunately, ambition eventually trumps physics, and the extravaganza bursts. I have smaller bursts more often, but the big ones are in a different league and thankfully rare. The first one made me believe I was dying. That was the worst one, probably because I was ignorant and unhealthy even though I was abstaining from most of the delights of downtown Montreal. I had no choice but to go to the ER because I was passing out from "septis" (too lazy to look up the English word). They guessed at the culprit then, because they found nothing but infection and fluid in my abdomen, but ultrasounds before and since have spoken the full tale. Enlarged cysts aren't an uncommon expression of ovarian creativity, and are less objectionable if they simply exist or shrink gradually...but some people just have to be dramatic: BOOM!
The abdomen typically contains fluid, all sorts of fluid, but it's compartmentalized. Free fluid outside of and in between organs is restricted--there isn't a lot of space. So when a disgruntled ovary destroys an over-reaching work with a bang, there's a fair bit of pain and then lingering discomfort because the trespassing fluid doesn't really have a designated exit. It doesn't just shoot down the fallopian tube; apparently, Art is a Nonconformist Struggle. The fluid has to be gradually broken down and reabsorbed.
So, that's where I'm at. Breaking it down. Also getting a lot of studying and research and quality pack time done because I'm mostly remaining horizontal, although I did walk the dogs this morning. Kind of a drastic taper, but I'm recovering well and hopefully will be back to normal on Sunday.
No complaints, though! This is why I run: that first trip to the ER was what inspired me to start running, although I had to wait about a month due to anemia. Staying in shape helps me bounce back more quickly. The second time, there was no septis, just intravenous saline required; this time, there was no hospital at all. Maybe there won't be a fourth time.
Unfortunately, near the end of the beer festival on Saturday, I started feeling "off." Was I just dehydrated? or was there indeed gluten in the hotdogs? We walked further and had more drinks and some food, and the situation gradually worsened. By nine, it was clear that something was up. By midnight, I was wondering if I would have to go to the ER, but I decided to wait and see, and several hours later, I finally fell asleep.
I've been down this road before, during the spring of 2000 (or 2001?) and during the spring of 2007--I guess it's a seven-year cycle. My right ovary is the creative culprit: bored with the usual tiny monthly ovum-releasing cyst, it occasionally embarks on a golf ball-sized project (one doctor suggested that the same sack or structure is being reused). Unfortunately, ambition eventually trumps physics, and the extravaganza bursts. I have smaller bursts more often, but the big ones are in a different league and thankfully rare. The first one made me believe I was dying. That was the worst one, probably because I was ignorant and unhealthy even though I was abstaining from most of the delights of downtown Montreal. I had no choice but to go to the ER because I was passing out from "septis" (too lazy to look up the English word). They guessed at the culprit then, because they found nothing but infection and fluid in my abdomen, but ultrasounds before and since have spoken the full tale. Enlarged cysts aren't an uncommon expression of ovarian creativity, and are less objectionable if they simply exist or shrink gradually...but some people just have to be dramatic: BOOM!
The abdomen typically contains fluid, all sorts of fluid, but it's compartmentalized. Free fluid outside of and in between organs is restricted--there isn't a lot of space. So when a disgruntled ovary destroys an over-reaching work with a bang, there's a fair bit of pain and then lingering discomfort because the trespassing fluid doesn't really have a designated exit. It doesn't just shoot down the fallopian tube; apparently, Art is a Nonconformist Struggle. The fluid has to be gradually broken down and reabsorbed.
So, that's where I'm at. Breaking it down. Also getting a lot of studying and research and quality pack time done because I'm mostly remaining horizontal, although I did walk the dogs this morning. Kind of a drastic taper, but I'm recovering well and hopefully will be back to normal on Sunday.
No complaints, though! This is why I run: that first trip to the ER was what inspired me to start running, although I had to wait about a month due to anemia. Staying in shape helps me bounce back more quickly. The second time, there was no septis, just intravenous saline required; this time, there was no hospital at all. Maybe there won't be a fourth time.
Friday, May 16, 2014
:)
Another weather post, but it's ok to talk about the heat once it's gone, right? After the recent nastiness, thunderstorms blew in and made everything better. I woke up around 6 to let the puppy out (yeah, she's still generating sleep deprivation, but the poor thing lost her uterus, tapeworms, and at least one of her teeth this week) and it felt cold. I don't know what it was, 16 C? I couldn't gauge it except that I LOVE IT.
I coaxed the big dog out and we ran for 70 minutes; unfortunately, about 2 miles of that was on the shoulder, which mostly coincided with a 2 mile incline (just at 2.5%, though!) but I was cool with it today because my Achilles tendon felt fine and I LOVE IT. The weather, that is. Not sweating for the first mile! Not feeling sweat trickling down anywhere! If summer stayed like this, I would be so happy. High of 24 C; who needs anything more?
Later on, I ran errands: another three-ish miles, plus I walked the three miles home. I'm seriously blissed out today. The recent hot weather has been a jail of sorts, and now I'm free for almost a week by the looks of it. I could deal with a week on/week off sort of deal, and maybe this summer will deliver that, but I have to be realistic: probably, eventually, that smoldering old hag will squat down for a solid few months or so, like last year. BLECH!
But not yet! The low tonight will be 9 C. I don't remember what that feels like! I'm going to be rolling all weekend! LOVE IT!
I coaxed the big dog out and we ran for 70 minutes; unfortunately, about 2 miles of that was on the shoulder, which mostly coincided with a 2 mile incline (just at 2.5%, though!) but I was cool with it today because my Achilles tendon felt fine and I LOVE IT. The weather, that is. Not sweating for the first mile! Not feeling sweat trickling down anywhere! If summer stayed like this, I would be so happy. High of 24 C; who needs anything more?
Later on, I ran errands: another three-ish miles, plus I walked the three miles home. I'm seriously blissed out today. The recent hot weather has been a jail of sorts, and now I'm free for almost a week by the looks of it. I could deal with a week on/week off sort of deal, and maybe this summer will deliver that, but I have to be realistic: probably, eventually, that smoldering old hag will squat down for a solid few months or so, like last year. BLECH!
But not yet! The low tonight will be 9 C. I don't remember what that feels like! I'm going to be rolling all weekend! LOVE IT!
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Missing the chill
Ah, I haven't forgotten yesterday's pledge...but I haven't properly mourned decent weather yet. Honestly, I let too much of it go to waste this year, but this place just doesn't pump me up.
Except my garage, oh, yeah. I did a twenty minute tempo run/detox on the treadmill this morning when it was only 23 or whatever, ha--I'm used to dripping on the treadmill, but when sweat splashes onto the monitor of this poor laptop while I'm watching my "stories"...man...I feel subhuman, as though I'm regressing to an aquatic ancestor. I do have, and wear, one of those retro terry-cloth headbands, and even that fails me sometimes.
But now I have chalk! Oh, yeah! Have I written about this already? I went into REI or some store like that, and they had "climbing chalk". I don't climb even socially but I have sweaty hands too. I don't know if climbing chalk is the same thing as lifting chalk, but it does the trick with the weights. My hands aren't snagging on the bar. My output on the treadmill, however, is beyond control...whatever.
It's summer now; it's time to trip over umpteen roots and lift umpteen weights. Yeah, I'm still tapering for the marathon in 10ish days, but with an eye to the future!
Except my garage, oh, yeah. I did a twenty minute tempo run/detox on the treadmill this morning when it was only 23 or whatever, ha--I'm used to dripping on the treadmill, but when sweat splashes onto the monitor of this poor laptop while I'm watching my "stories"...man...I feel subhuman, as though I'm regressing to an aquatic ancestor. I do have, and wear, one of those retro terry-cloth headbands, and even that fails me sometimes.
But now I have chalk! Oh, yeah! Have I written about this already? I went into REI or some store like that, and they had "climbing chalk". I don't climb even socially but I have sweaty hands too. I don't know if climbing chalk is the same thing as lifting chalk, but it does the trick with the weights. My hands aren't snagging on the bar. My output on the treadmill, however, is beyond control...whatever.
It's summer now; it's time to trip over umpteen roots and lift umpteen weights. Yeah, I'm still tapering for the marathon in 10ish days, but with an eye to the future!
Monday, May 12, 2014
~
~
~
Summer
Pretending it's not happening
I promise to not talk about the heat until summer ends, which is like November here, unless it happens during an actual race. One week or so of 30+ highs, and I'm so wiped I can't even complain about it.
So, blah, blah, whine whine whine, oh, it's so freaking hot here I'm sweating crystals because I have no moisture left, what did I do in a past life to be stuck down here, is there a God and does he or she hate me this much and why, oh, boo-hoo, I can't possibly strip down any further without getting arrested, my head hurts, am I dying, fuck this shit, I can't even walk or bike without looking like I stole something, is this antiperspirant just a rumour, wah, wah, I feel funny, etc.
THAT'S IT! Six months of weather ranting--over. Life isn't that bad, just hot. One more summer, one more year, and then we'll be moving again, hopefully to some place with less of my least favourite season.
Meanwhile, I'm training the new dog and still trying to let #1 get his smells and action, so I'm walking 2-3 hours a day on average. I can't walk them together until the new dog is better trained. I could run with #1, and should, but it's hot and I'm letting my Achilles tendon heal. Therefore, no trails, no shoulder of the road. TM or asphalt or zilch, and it's mainly been the latter! I tried to do a long run on the TM yesterday, but I called it quits after 30 minutes.
At least I'm catching up on sleep. And I have less than two weeks left of pretending to be a long-distance runner. Once the marathon is over, I'll focus more on weights. To prep for this, I've been doing a May squat challenge with a couple of friends from uni.
I also plan to wake up earlier. Actually, I do have to wake up somewhat early because the puppy has a small bladder...I just need to stay up and get myself and the other dog out. This is not an easy proposition because he likes to sleep in too, but it's time for the two of us to embrace the magic early hour. Time to chomp down those promised worms!
~
Summer
Pretending it's not happening
I promise to not talk about the heat until summer ends, which is like November here, unless it happens during an actual race. One week or so of 30+ highs, and I'm so wiped I can't even complain about it.
So, blah, blah, whine whine whine, oh, it's so freaking hot here I'm sweating crystals because I have no moisture left, what did I do in a past life to be stuck down here, is there a God and does he or she hate me this much and why, oh, boo-hoo, I can't possibly strip down any further without getting arrested, my head hurts, am I dying, fuck this shit, I can't even walk or bike without looking like I stole something, is this antiperspirant just a rumour, wah, wah, I feel funny, etc.
THAT'S IT! Six months of weather ranting--over. Life isn't that bad, just hot. One more summer, one more year, and then we'll be moving again, hopefully to some place with less of my least favourite season.
Meanwhile, I'm training the new dog and still trying to let #1 get his smells and action, so I'm walking 2-3 hours a day on average. I can't walk them together until the new dog is better trained. I could run with #1, and should, but it's hot and I'm letting my Achilles tendon heal. Therefore, no trails, no shoulder of the road. TM or asphalt or zilch, and it's mainly been the latter! I tried to do a long run on the TM yesterday, but I called it quits after 30 minutes.
At least I'm catching up on sleep. And I have less than two weeks left of pretending to be a long-distance runner. Once the marathon is over, I'll focus more on weights. To prep for this, I've been doing a May squat challenge with a couple of friends from uni.
I also plan to wake up earlier. Actually, I do have to wake up somewhat early because the puppy has a small bladder...I just need to stay up and get myself and the other dog out. This is not an easy proposition because he likes to sleep in too, but it's time for the two of us to embrace the magic early hour. Time to chomp down those promised worms!
Monday, May 5, 2014
Run, Lola, run!
Lola Rennt!
How to choose marathon pace when you haven't a clue what it could be or what your treadmill is actually making you do? dunno*. But I like nice round numbers so, what the heck, 7.0 mph, which might actually be 7.64 mph = (rough TM correction factor: 59 min/54/min = 1.0926)7.0. But that was my husband's jacked up Time Lord run, and I was robbed only about two minutes this time, therefore (79.17/77.17)7.0 = (1.0259)7.0 = 7.18 mph. Plus the garage was about 27 C. Great detox!
At any rate, even 7.0 mph flat is probably an ambitious pace at this point, but it felt nice at first...oh, yeah, that trap!
At any rate, the treadmill said that I ran 9 miles in 77:10. It got to be a tough run, mainly because the garage was hot, I think, but my legs were feeling heavy. Breathing was easy for the most part, though.
*Sorry for the lack of capitalization. I am still low on sleep and my manual dexterity is starting to suffer. Yesterday I dropped a large glass of water near my computer, and there was just enough splash to take out my "d" key. I found a free program that let me assign a hotkey (couldn't figure out through the computer's OS somehow...man, I'm dull these days) but I forgot about capital d. Anyway, will see if it dries out with rice on it, but turns out that a wireless keyboard is only $70, cheaper and easier than buying and installing a replacement keyboard. or I can just adapt. See, if I still had my old job, I'd just pry the plastic sheets between the key mechanism and wiring, and blast some nitrogen there and hope for the best! Is it possible for regular people to buy compressed nitrogen? Answer: yeah, on Amazon--turns out that paintballers, scuba divers, and brewers use it too!
How to choose marathon pace when you haven't a clue what it could be or what your treadmill is actually making you do? dunno*. But I like nice round numbers so, what the heck, 7.0 mph, which might actually be 7.64 mph = (rough TM correction factor: 59 min/54/min = 1.0926)7.0. But that was my husband's jacked up Time Lord run, and I was robbed only about two minutes this time, therefore (79.17/77.17)7.0 = (1.0259)7.0 = 7.18 mph. Plus the garage was about 27 C. Great detox!
At any rate, even 7.0 mph flat is probably an ambitious pace at this point, but it felt nice at first...oh, yeah, that trap!
At any rate, the treadmill said that I ran 9 miles in 77:10. It got to be a tough run, mainly because the garage was hot, I think, but my legs were feeling heavy. Breathing was easy for the most part, though.
*Sorry for the lack of capitalization. I am still low on sleep and my manual dexterity is starting to suffer. Yesterday I dropped a large glass of water near my computer, and there was just enough splash to take out my "d" key. I found a free program that let me assign a hotkey (couldn't figure out through the computer's OS somehow...man, I'm dull these days) but I forgot about capital d. Anyway, will see if it dries out with rice on it, but turns out that a wireless keyboard is only $70, cheaper and easier than buying and installing a replacement keyboard. or I can just adapt. See, if I still had my old job, I'd just pry the plastic sheets between the key mechanism and wiring, and blast some nitrogen there and hope for the best! Is it possible for regular people to buy compressed nitrogen? Answer: yeah, on Amazon--turns out that paintballers, scuba divers, and brewers use it too!
Sunday, May 4, 2014
My second DNS of all time...in a row
Yeah, so it's 3:30 am and I was supposed to leave the house soon, but life has intervened again.
My last DNS, the 50 K trail run in March, happened to fall on the day my husband left for Afghanistan for the first time. I was kind of stressed out about that, and I thought that running for hours while worrying about his transit would be kind of unbearable, so I dropped out about a week before. Fortunately, my husband's trip (man, that sounds too pleasant a word) went well and he's back. That's the important thing.
Unfortunately, my husband had a work emergency a few hours ago--(edit: and he's still there, 12 hours later, with the car). It had looked like he'd be back in time, but now it's not going to happen, and I'm stuck. We have just the one car.
The race probably would not have gone well anyway. Hot weather aside, we got a puppy several days ago and she has mildly jacked up my sleep, even though she's old enough to mostly sleep through the night. This night, though, has been rough for her and so I've gotten one hour of sleep thus far, and now I'm approaching all-nighter mode and I'm wired awake. Hopefully I can use this vibe to polish off some work. The puppy is very very cute, by the way, and it blows my mind that somebody just dumped her in a yard. My old dog (to be known as #1 from now on) is still not entirely convinced about sharing the house with another dog, but this new dog is mostly adjusting quickly, small bladder aside, and she's already decent on the leash. I think she will be great to run with, but that won't happen for at least a year: got to wait until she's done growing. Yeah, it looks like we're keeping her. We're still in a "trial" period, and we haven't told our families or friends yet that we have her, but this dog is special.
At any rate, she is a far more pleasant obstacle than a work emergency. That has forced things into perspective. I was really looking forward to the race, despite my weather whining. I was raring to run on uninterrupted asphalt with other runners through the excitement of a race in a city, any city...instead, I could run today with #1, but I could almost cry too. This race has been a beacon for a few months but now it's snuffed. I should have pulled my shit together and hopped in the car too, or something...but this would have thrown off the dog potty schedule...I dunno. No guarantee that my husband wouldn't have needed the car at his disposal until who knows when. Anyway, I'm bummed.
However, I am reminded by the emergency that circumstances could be worse. I'm missing just a race. I have my husband and #1 and probably #2...I still have my super family! And I still have a bib for the Ottawa marathon in three weeks.
My last DNS, the 50 K trail run in March, happened to fall on the day my husband left for Afghanistan for the first time. I was kind of stressed out about that, and I thought that running for hours while worrying about his transit would be kind of unbearable, so I dropped out about a week before. Fortunately, my husband's trip (man, that sounds too pleasant a word) went well and he's back. That's the important thing.
Unfortunately, my husband had a work emergency a few hours ago--(edit: and he's still there, 12 hours later, with the car). It had looked like he'd be back in time, but now it's not going to happen, and I'm stuck. We have just the one car.
The race probably would not have gone well anyway. Hot weather aside, we got a puppy several days ago and she has mildly jacked up my sleep, even though she's old enough to mostly sleep through the night. This night, though, has been rough for her and so I've gotten one hour of sleep thus far, and now I'm approaching all-nighter mode and I'm wired awake. Hopefully I can use this vibe to polish off some work. The puppy is very very cute, by the way, and it blows my mind that somebody just dumped her in a yard. My old dog (to be known as #1 from now on) is still not entirely convinced about sharing the house with another dog, but this new dog is mostly adjusting quickly, small bladder aside, and she's already decent on the leash. I think she will be great to run with, but that won't happen for at least a year: got to wait until she's done growing. Yeah, it looks like we're keeping her. We're still in a "trial" period, and we haven't told our families or friends yet that we have her, but this dog is special.
At any rate, she is a far more pleasant obstacle than a work emergency. That has forced things into perspective. I was really looking forward to the race, despite my weather whining. I was raring to run on uninterrupted asphalt with other runners through the excitement of a race in a city, any city...instead, I could run today with #1, but I could almost cry too. This race has been a beacon for a few months but now it's snuffed. I should have pulled my shit together and hopped in the car too, or something...but this would have thrown off the dog potty schedule...I dunno. No guarantee that my husband wouldn't have needed the car at his disposal until who knows when. Anyway, I'm bummed.
However, I am reminded by the emergency that circumstances could be worse. I'm missing just a race. I have my husband and #1 and probably #2...I still have my super family! And I still have a bib for the Ottawa marathon in three weeks.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
~
Crap! The high for Sunday is now supposed to be 29 C. I'd better run the thing as quickly as possible. LOL
Life has mired me for the last few days, but I got in a good combo run on Tuesday. 20 min tempo, 40 min marathon pace...ish. This was on the treadmill and I don't really have a goal pace because I don't know what to expect on race day, especially not if the weather gets uber stupid. Expectations of pace might be fortresses of air by this point, especially if I don't catch up on sleep.
Meanwhile, 29 C, really? But I shouldn't be surprised: we've already hit that temp down here. So it's hot, whatever; 29 C isn't the hottest marathon I've run. We run this. (and these are apparently the clean Disney lyrics...but getting close to 30 C on marathon day is serious biz. Time for Missy Elliot).
Life has mired me for the last few days, but I got in a good combo run on Tuesday. 20 min tempo, 40 min marathon pace...ish. This was on the treadmill and I don't really have a goal pace because I don't know what to expect on race day, especially not if the weather gets uber stupid. Expectations of pace might be fortresses of air by this point, especially if I don't catch up on sleep.
Meanwhile, 29 C, really? But I shouldn't be surprised: we've already hit that temp down here. So it's hot, whatever; 29 C isn't the hottest marathon I've run. We run this. (and these are apparently the clean Disney lyrics...but getting close to 30 C on marathon day is serious biz. Time for Missy Elliot).
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