Apr 29, 2013

Glass City Owens Corning Half Marathon

Heading into the Glass City half...

Good things:
1.) Weather forecast called for 50s and dry.
2.) I slept all night Saturday.
3.) No pre-race nervous poops or fits of tears.

Bad things:
1.) It rained. A lot.
2.) I did not Not one of the 6 of us packed a change of shoes or a towel.
3.) I woke up with a migraine.

Those who know me know that migraines for me are not just really bad headaches with sensitivity to light and sound and an upset stomach. No, no, no--when Krista gets a migraine, Krista suffers through stages:

Stage 1: Constant blind spots that pretty much keep me from being able to see anything for about 30 to 40 minutes.
Stage 2: Feeling of a nail being driven into a localized spot on my head, which moves from migraine to migraine, lasting anywhere from one hour to an entire day. For the first hour or so, I tend to poop. A lot.
Stage 3: This one actually begins about 20 minutes into Stage 2. I feel nauseated, occasionally leading to dry-heaving, for a few hours.

Fortunately I had prepared all of my gear and goodies the night before: bib was attached to my shorts, outfit was out and ready to go, and my post-race dry clothing bag was packed*. I stayed in bed an extra 15 minutes until about 5:15, brushed my teeth in the dark (with Joe's assistance), got dressed, stopped at Speedway for some ginger ale, and off to the University of Toledo we were.

We arrived after sitting in race traffic for a good five to ten minutes. The cops seemed to do a great job of attempting to control the flow of traffic. Unfortunately, there were some dummies who screwed things up for the rest of us. If there is a barricade blocking a road that is the freaking start of the race, you should not attempt to drive through it. Nevertheless, we were parked with about 40 minutes to spare. I booked it into Savage Arena to poop, which I usually do first thing in the morning, but if you read about the stages of the migraine, then it makes sense.

We got a lot of love for our shirts.

Team Non-Elite Team Glowstick gathered, planted ourselves just in front of the 8:12/mile pace group, and shortly after 7:00AM the music was blaring, I was fist-pumping, and we were off. There was light rain, but I figured it would be gone quickly, namely because every weather forecaster in the city of Toledo guaranteed that the chance of rain Sunday morning was very low, and that it would likely only be the marathoners dealing with it after 9:00AM. I should have gone into meteorology because they get paid to be wrong all the time.

Our group's goal was to finish in 1:45 (not my idea, but I was game for the challenge), which would mean maintaining an 8:00/mile pace. After mile 1, we did a really good job of holding that pace. Around mile 5 I did want to back off, but because it wasn't due to injury or even my migraine, which I had completely forgotten by the time we started (ginger ale + endorphins from running = kick-ass pain-reliever), I kept on going.

Mile 1: 8:25
2: 7:58
3: 8:00
4: 7:59
5: 7:58

I only brought one Clif Shot with me to take around mile 7; in retrospect, I wish that I would have planned to have taken two. I got the whole thing down in two consecutive gulps, took a sip of water, and managed to keep it all down. For the next mile, I did a lot of thinking about running the full last year. It's at mile 8.5ish in Wildwood where the half runners split off from the full. I thought about how great I felt at that point last year, and I was actually kind of sad that I was more than halfway finished. The marathoners eventually make their way back to that point, so the final 4.5ish miles are the same for the half and full. As I reached miles 9, 10, and 11, I thought about how challenging it was to be on that path last year, passing the markers for miles 22, 23, and 24.

I wanted to push harder, but I couldn't get past how badly it sucked to be soaking wet. Those damned weathermen!

Mile 6: 8:04
7: 8:02
8: 8:05
9: 7:59
10: 8:07

I didn't catch a second wind, but I started to lighten up as we neared UT's campus. Despite the weather, there was a phenomenal crowd of spectators at the campus end of the University Parks Trail. By the time we made it there, Joe had hit an incredible flow and was distancing himself farther and farther ahead of us. I wanted to be able to catch up with him, but it didn't bother me that I didn't because I was so freaking proud of him. The race has an awesome end in the Glass Bowl, and as I approached its entrance I could hear Joe's name announced when he finished. I shouted, "THAT'S MY HUSBAND!", which got laughter and cheers from the people lining the route.

And finally, before I knew it, I was on the field, hoping to not slip on the wet turf, crossing the finish mat.

1:46:12--A 2+ minute PR!

And Joe? Joe PRed by more than 5 minutes!!!!!

Sorry for all of those exclamation points. I am clearly still very excited about it! I am waiting on official photos to show up online. In the meantime, here's a real keeper of me and Tammy. Of note is the fact that one of her legs was numb and she thought she was going to puke, but I felt fine. You'd think it had been the other way around from the looks of this one...

Tammy: I'm so pretty!
Krista: KILL ME NOW!
*About that post-race dry clothing bag. We were all wet and subsequently miserable after the race. Like a group of weird swingers, we packed into the Dave's Elite Runners trailer (don't ask how or why), covered one another with mylar blankets as privacy curtains, and changed into our dry clothes. Unfortunately, since not one of us thought to bring a towel, we were just getting our new dry clothes wet. Also, all of us DID remember to pack a dry pair of socks, but we all put on our wet race shoes over them. Is this what hipsters call "a fail"?

Apr 23, 2013

2.6 Mile Solidarity Run for Boston

Yesterday I and hundreds of other runners and walkers gathered at Woodlands Park right here in Perrysburg for the Solidarity Run for Boston. Dave's Running put it all together quickly and did a helluva job! I even got to help, even if just a teeny-tiny bit; Tammy, Rob, Alex, and I planned and measured the course during our Sunday run.

A sea of great people.
The Solidarity Run was a 2.6 mile run/walk to benefit those affected by last week's tragedy at The Boston Marathon. Dave's collected donations of money and each contributor received a commemorative t-shirt, which I rocked at work today. One-hundred percent of the money collected is going directly to The One Fund Boston. Rumor has it that we raised more than $16,000. It's one of the many affirmations that people are so good. Let the record show that I was blown away by the turnout. I expected maybe 100 or so, but the unofficial count is at least 800--there were 800 t-shirts available and every single one was gone before the run started.

I arrived solo around 6:30 in some fresh new kicks, made my donation, snagged t-shirts for me and Joe (since he was at class), then waited on the rest of our running group to arrive. Just before 7:00 we lined up to run and out of nowhere, there was Joe! He made it out of class early because he killed a final exam, so he rushed home to get into his running digs and arrived just in time for the run to start. I thought that we were going to take it easy, but I was very, very wrong. Keep in mind that I had just run 20 miles at an awesome pace one day before. Add to that the fact that the number of runners and walkers far exceeded what a lot of us predicted AND the path at Woodlands park is narrow and only three-quarters of a mile around. It was a huge, ahem, clusterfuck at the start. I started my watch anyway.

There I am with Joe, Rob, Jordan, and Steve.
With the aforementioned cluster-you-know-what, we started mile one at a killer 29:11 pace. We bobbed and weaved out of the crowd and finished at a respectable 8:10. Despite the short distance, I hadn't planned on anything like that. After all, it wasn't a race, but an opportunity to help a recovery effort. Oh, AND Jordan and Steve hadn't run for months having both come off of injuries, one a stress fracture and the other some serious plantar fasciitis. Get Joe and Rob together, though, and everything gets all serious. When we finished the second mile in 7:35 I felt a little worn out, but I knew that I could maintain for another point-six. Heaven forbid we'd "maintain," though. At some point, we lost Jordan and Steve, then Joe and Rob took off. I didn't want to be left alone, so I did my best to keep up. We finished the final .66 in 4:41, which was a 7:09 pace.

Finish time: 20:26. And all for an awesome cause.

On the next day, I feel fine. I was ready to go out and do 4 or 5 miles, but a scary-looking storm is coming in, so I'd rather stay inside to eat nachos, chicken wings, and other finger foods.

Oh, yeah, I slipped in there that I got some new shoes. Goodbye, Launch!


Hello, Wave Rider 16! As the left photo demonstrates, my feet have been in the Brooks Launch for a while. One pair didn't make the photo because I donated it last year. The Launch has been good to me; it offered more than the Pure Flow did, but let me feel the road more than the Ghost. Sadly, the future of the Launch is uncertain, so I decided to try something new to prepare for its looming end. Enter Mizuno's Wave Rider 16. Joe has been dissing me for getting shoes that look just like my old shoes, but my other option was light purple. You understand, right?

Apr 22, 2013

Awesome 20 miles: Good omen or jinx?

I have an outfit for my alma mater's important athletic events. I must wash my hands immediately prior to leaving work each day. My current pair of running shoes needs to be the pair sitting closest to the closet wall.

Superstitious? Or suffering from a litte OCD?

Whatever my condition is, I'm pumped about and scared due to my final pre-CLE 20-miler. Of the three times that I've run 20 miles, this was my best. I failed to run one while training for Glass City last year; Joe and Rob got me through my first while training for Columbus last September, then I did one a few weeks ago. Yesterday, I ran 20 miles more than 15 seconds per mile faster than the other two times that I ran that distance. And I felt awesome during and after the run. Of note: my hamstring, which tends to be really annoying in the days immediately following a long run in excess of 13 miles, feels fine.

I should only be happy, right? Probably. BUT, some things didn't go right:

1.) I didn't eat prior to the run.
2.) I only fueled once--at mile 7.5-ish.
3.) After a pit-stop at home to pick up Joe for my last 2.4, I stiffened up and slowed to 9:00+ per mile.

On one hand, I feel stupid. I didn't treat my body properly, and I worry that in the coming days, I am going to pay for it. On the other hand, I feel that even with those disadvantages, which I did unto myself, I kicked some ass. Back to the other hand, I may have spent myself and my body's vengeful wrath is waiting to sneak up and wreak havoc on me.

I think I'm going to be cautiously optimistic as I taper toward CLE. The Glass City Half will be a real test for me this coming Sunday--will I run hard and go for a PR? Or will I take it easy and run for the fun of it?

Apr 17, 2013

Boston: We Must Be Optimistic

Here I am: Another blogger sharing her thoughts regarding the tragedy that unfolded on Monday at the Boston Marathon. I've had a couple of days to take in, process, and begin to mentally recover from what transpired. I'm not going to wax poetic or denounce humanity. I'm just going to walk you through my perspective.

Monday, April 15th. It didn't occur to me at all in the morning that the race was underway. I went about my day then around 3:30 got into my car to drive home, but not without first checking Facebook. A post from the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon read, "Our thoughts are with those injured at The Boston Marathon, as well as the race organizers and first responders working at the scene." Was it another blazing hot Boston Marathon like in 2012 resulting in runners needing medical attention? Before I put away my phone, similar posts appeared from news outlets. Still, I wasn't sure of what was happening.

I put down my phone, hit the road, and turned the XM to MSNBC. I quickly learned that not much earlier there had been two explosions near the finish of the race. Details were understandably scarce and in retrospect I'm thankful for that; had I known during my drive home what the extent of the damage was, I would have been a mess in the car. When I got home around 4:00, it was all over the television: Two explosions near the finish of the Boston Marathon, about 20 injured, and the same footage over and over of marathoners triumphantly nearing the finish of the coveted Boston Marathon, one of whom was knocked to the ground by the concussion of the first blast. This was serious.

I took to the internet to get more details. In my face were raw photos of the sidewalk along Boylston Street spattered with blood and laden with faces of people visibly experiencing shock and horror. My emotions swung back and forth from sad to terrified. One image in particular made me feel physically ill: A young man being pushed in a wheel chair toward help, his lower limbs gone and his femoral artery being squeezed closed by the bare hand of a complete stranger and civilian alongside him. As Monday evening went on, the number of those injured rose. By Tuesday, the death toll was three and nearly 200 were injured, far too many of which lost limbs. The carnage was, to me, only comparable to what soldiers witness in combat.

But it was just a race.

Some may read this and say, "Just a race?" I know, the The Boston Marathon is not "just" a race. I think that what I mean is clear, though. I can't imagine that runners or spectators were thinking on Monday morning that any kind of tragedy was likely to take place that day. They were going to run and watch the mack daddy of all marathons; to watch a bunch of bad-asses run what many only dream of doing, or to run as one of those bad-asses. But now, a few lives are gone and so many are changed forever.

I know, I said that I wouldn't wax poetic.

I've never been to The Boston Marathon. Honestly, I didn't even care about it until last year. Nevertheless, what happened on Monday afternoon has hit me really, really hard. Maybe I'm turning into a sap as I get older. Maybe I just can't stomach such incomprehensible events. Maybe I'm especially touched because I'm a runner and I know how it should feel to cross that finish line after 26.2 miles and how it should feel to watch a loved one do accomplish the same. Thousands of people didn't get to experience those feelings on Monday afternoon.

I remain optimistic. Moments ago, I saw a photo on the news of a shirtless runner (you know, one of those aforementioned bad-asses) elevating a spectator's wounded leg, which was tied in a makeshift tourniquet that was presumably that runner's shirt. In all of the event footage, my attention is drawn not to those scattering in terror, but to those running toward the wounded. And inside me, I want to run Boston exponentially more than I did prior to Monday afternoon.

We must be optimists.

</poetic waxing>

Apr 3, 2013

Training to Improve

After running 20 miles a couple of days ago, I had an epiphany. I think that my running is actually improving.

Last week was rough. I had a lot of nasal-to-throat drainage on Wednesday, and by the end of the work day on Thursday I was full-blown sick. Joe pushed me through 5 miles that evening, but my illness trumped everything Friday morning when I had to cut 5 miles down to 2.5. With reluctance I chose to rest on Saturday and Sunday, despite needing to run 10 and 20 miles respectively, in an effort to get well. Also, I needed to make sure that Joe's surprise 30th birthday party was a blast.

It wasn't for naught! By Sunday evening, in spite of the guilt of not running all weekend, I felt healthy. AND all of the birthday festivities were awesome. We got a good night of sleep on Sunday, I slept in on Monday, and then went out to run that 20-miler. I had been so good about doing all of my long runs since training for the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon started that I didn't want to let one sick weekend ruin my streak, which I imagine would subsequently also ruin my confidence in training and my ability to perform on May 19th.

Back to the point, I think that my running is actually improving. I already said that, right?

What was this aforementioned epiphany exactly? What am I doing better now than before? And why did I notice any of it?

I run comfortably.
While training for my first two marathons last year, I generally tried to run hard in every training run as if I was some badass, experienced runner. I ran for the enjoyment of looking at my splits on Garmin Connect. I relished in finishing training runs in goal race time.

I was not and am not a badass, experienced runner. I was disappointed in myself for not running negative splits for an entire long run. I felt like all of the work I had done was for nothing if I ran 30 to 45 seconds slower per mile than my race goal pace.

Lately, I've been running at a pace that feels good. I am honest with myself about how much I can tolerate. I find a pace at which I know I can run faster, and I choose to maintain it or even slow down. Instead of doing what I can, I'm happy simply knowing that I can.

I endure in discomfort.
I suck at golf. I always like the idea of going to play, and I am usually in good spirits until my second stroke. At best I triple bogie hole after hole. I turn into a sourpuss and although I never quit, I become huffy and puffy and as a result, I play worse and worse. Eventually, I start just claiming stroke limit on each hole so that I don't need to play it out.

I've never had such a meltdown while running, but I've definitely done some mental "getting to know myself" under crappy conditions. Last summer was blazing hot and humid, which resulted in running shorter distances  than I should have, rather than slowing down or even walking now and then. While training for my first two marathons, I only ran one of my two planned 20-milers because it was just too hard. Wind kicks up toward the end of a run? Meh, I'll just call it quits.

No more of that. I am training with a purpose; I have goals, and I'm less likely to achieve if I don't do what I know I need to do. No more quitting, no more complaining, and no more excuses.

I finish strong.
I used to train hard from start to finish. No warm-up, just straight into race pace. It was fine on shorter runs of 5 or 7 miles, but it was a challenge to maintain week after week on long runs. The last few miles always showed the same thing: slower and slower splits, struggling to even finish training runs. Oh, you want to "race" to the end of the driveway? You have fun with that. I'll just stay back here all slow because I can't run any faster.

I mentioned earlier that I'm consciously saving my energy when I know that it's there. All of that running comfortably pays off when for the last half or even full mile, I can kick it up a notch to finish faster than race goal pace. I can "win" those sprints around the corner to the driveway. Well, less and less since Joe is getting faster and faster. Even for him, it's due to training smarter. This shouldn't be exclusive to training, either; even in a race, don't you prefer to finish looking strong for the camera? I feel a lot better saving it for the end.

Improvements aren't just measured by PRs and medals. I've been thinking a lot about the way that I feel during and after training runs. Even if I don't beat that pesky 3:53 in Cleveland on May 19th, I know that I am now a better runner than I used to be.