My plan was to get up at 6:30 am, load the car, and head off at 8:00am. That didn't happen. The night before saw me restless, and as I couldn't sleep, I mapped out the run on MapMyRun.com and loaded it into the Garmin 405. I had never run a "course" with this GPS model, but it opened up a new option for me. Sleep finally took me in after midnight, but by then, the die was cast.
I didn't get up until after 7:30, as I was groggy. I figured that if I got out the door between 8:30 and 9:00, I should be okay, as the race didn't start until 11:00. Well, in spite of having everything prepped, it was 9:10 before I was out the door, and after a bit of a drive, I saw the globe on the outside of Hamilton just before 10:00.
Now, to get to the race start efficiently, one really has to drive North of Hamilton, and then approach it using Rt. 6, taking the Main Street West exit. Well, I did all that...but went the wrong way on Main Street! After about 10 blocks, things weren't looking good, so I pulled into a gas station for directions. Armed with my map for the race course, I asked where the YMCA was. Nobody knew. James Street? Oh, that's the other direction! Goody! It's now past 10:00, but it may have been a blessing in disguise. I was able to use the washroom at the gas station, rather than standing in the ever-growing-longer line at the YMCA prior to race time.
I was finally on the right track. Pulling into the lot where Bry and I usually park, I see that half of it is closed for construction. All the spots are full! It isn't until I pull back into the adjoining lot that I find an icy spot that I can wedge my small car into. Thank goodness I no longer drive a big SUV, as I would have been out of luck.
I jog the two blocks to the YMCA, grab my race number and totebag, and then jog back to the car to drop off the totebag. There was no spot at the YMCA to have them scan my personal chip, and no time to unlace my shoe and REMOVE my personal chip. This would be an issue later.
Along the way back to the car, I nearly take a header on some black ice (wouldn't that have been a great way to start the race?), but managed to catch myself before falling. The hurrier I go, the behinder I get...so I walked that section. The result was seeing the last of the runners meandering to the start line as I returned. No time for the washroom now; glad that I took the chance a half hour ago! One of my biggest fears was not getting there in time to follow the others to the start line.
We all stand around for about five minutes, waiting for the gun to go off. I bring up the course on the Forerunner, and have it set to push as I cross the mats. The GPS had other ideas, however. As we moved forward, it switched to training mode, so I created this as a course instead. No matter. It was the least of my worries.
Now, I've been running hill repeats when I can. December's snow and ice took away my opportunity to do these in Akron State Park, where there are some sizeable inclines, but I had done the bulk of my homework. Still, I had forgotten about the rolling hills along the first seven miles of this course. If it hadn't been for my runs in Forest Lawn Cemetary, they probably would have beat the snot out of me! At mile three, I was feeling the run. At mile five, I was trying to convince myself that it was JUST five more miles.
It probably didn't help that the first water station was all out of water and gatorade when we got there. Ouch! Another runner kindly shared a swallow from a cup that someone else had poured for her from their hydration pack. Wouldn't you know it; I usually wear a fanny pack with a water bottle, but I didn't think I'd need it for this well-run race.
Just past mile five was the second water stop. They had both water and gatorade (blue, my favorite). A bunch of us joked that it tasted better than champagne on New Year's Eve. Another runner piped up, "Dom Perignon...that's for TONIGHT!" It made me think that even though this race is snugged between two holiday events, it is in many ways, MY holiday event. The Boxing Day Race meant more to me than Christmas and New Year's combined!
At mile six, I was aware of some discomfort in my right foot. There were some toes cramping. I had packed some Endurolytes, by preferred taking them with water, so I decided to try and wait until the waterstop at the top of the hill, over a mile away. Soon afterwards, I draw near another female runner. She had been just ahead of me for the first part of the race, but she was now showing signs of limping. From my experience, it looked like ITB issues on her right side. When I came up to her, I asked how she was doing, pointing out that she was visiably limping. She replied that she had some cramping going on, and I told her that she more than likely needed some electrolytes, as I did. I drew out my packet. I had packed four; I only needed two. I passed the other two on to her, told her to take them and drink a full cup of water at the top of the hill. My bet was hat she would notice a difference within ten minutes if it was just cramping.
I dry swallowed one of the remaining capsules (ugh...never good at that) and chugged up the hill. This hill is long and steep. A lot of runners walk the last bit of it, but I was determined to get as far up as I could. My left brain kept saying, "C'mon. You can walk now," but my right brain kept muttering, "Let's get past one more of those orange cones." There were four cones left...then three...as I came up to the second cone near the top, I knew that I had to nail this all the way. Meanwhile, fellow runners were cheering on my efforts, including a gentleman in a blue Running Room jacket.
I made it to the top and crowed. This was one of my two challenges on the course, and I had just run up the entire thing. The course then bent to the left, with tables set up with water and gatorade. I downed my remaining electrolyte capsule with a full cup of gatorade, and then rinsed with some water. Now for the second challenge...a half mile long stretch of gravel trail.
Trail running isn't a problem for me, especially when it's level, but I wasn't sure how big the gravel chunks were. As it was, it looked like dirt trail to me, rather than the ankle-turner that I was envisioning. The path had been plowed and sanded, but still could hide some icy spots. As I worked my way through, the gentleman in the blue jacket drew alongside of me. He said, "You really powered up that hill." I told him about my hill repeats, and described where I had done them. The gentleman, Gary, turned out to be a manager for the Oakville Running Room. We had an enjoyable chat along the trail, working through the sections that narrowed due to melting snow. At one point I got a hotfoot, but at least there was just over two miles to the race.
I'm not sure if it was overcoming the hill, or the electrolyte capsules kicking in, but suddenly my feet felt lighter. The mileage was no longer so much effort, and the memory of that first half of the race was fading fast. This was the last leg, and I knew once we worked back up this particular road, it was down, downhill into downtown Hamilton towards the finish line. It felt effortless, and as Gary said, "This is it; big finish!", I felt that I had the strength to pick it up and sprint over the finish line.
I turned in the race company's champion chip, turned off my Garmin AFTER that (it read 1:50:10), told Gary that I'd see him at the post-race party, and trotted off to the car for my race bag and a change of clothes. Working my way back, I saw some of the folks that I had passed earlier,and I cheered them onto the finish line.
The post-race party was packed. I didn't see anybody that I knew, let alone Gary. My two big faux paus were a) spilling soup when I was jostled (the whole thing flew out of my hands...we cleaned it up quick), and
b) asking for a second banana to share later with Alex, my sun conure. The gal there was more than willing to give me a second banana, but all I wanted was ONE more. She said that they were going to have lots of extras, so please take some....and she stuffed six bananas and several oranges into my race bag! This would come back to haunt me later.
I got another bowl of soup, and managed to sip this one down before somebody helped me upend it again. The awards were handed out, doorprizes were given, and then I headed off to the shower. Man, that felt good. I could have stayed under that hot water all afternoon! Afterwards, I dressed in my Boxing Day warmup jacket and tights, finally wearing them as I had "earned" them. I fretted whether the tights were the right size or two small, but another lady said, "You're like me; you have large calf muscles". She's right there, but my calves are solid, and I'm not likely to have those get skinnier, even as I lose more weight. Meanwhile, the knees had just a touch of bagginess to them. It was the right size, as best as I could get.
Tradition called for a cup of hot joe at the YMCA's cafe, sipped as I read a copy of "iRun", a free running magazine in Ontario. This is a great magazine, and I felt myself tearing up as I read of a lady who had run a marathon to raise funds for a young boy with cancer. She ran Boston, in spite of having had stitches and a broken bone just weeks before the race; the young lad died two weeks after the race. After that, I couldn't handle any more inspirational stories in the article, so I packed to head off.
On a whim, I drove into Oakville and visited the Running Room where Gary is manager. Ironically, he called the store WHILE I was there, and one of the employees put two and two together, as he said that he'd run the last part of the race with a lady from the USA, one whose boyfriend worked for Kingsway Running Room. Yup, that's me.
So what about my time goal? I finished in 1:49:47. Ah yes...wearing two chips. When I first checked my time, my chip time was the same as my gun time, and it was 1:51-something. What a let-down! When I figured out that something hadn't read on one of the mats, I contacted the timing company with my personal chip number. They checked for that, and came up with my revised numbers. Whew! They said that next time, I should register my number with them prior (even though I never saw an opportunity to do so at number pick up?). Oh well, I'm happier with the 1:49:47. I met my goal, and then some. Next year, I'd like to finish under 1:45, which I think should be reasonable, given more training.
Split times (according to the Garmin) were:
Mile 1-10:28:59
Mile 2-10:20:55
Mile 3-10:39.97
Mile 4-10:49.50
Mile 5-10:31.36
Mile 6-11:42.62 (here start the bulk of the hills!)
Mile 7-11:09.52
Mile 8-12:19.02
Mile 9-10:39.86
Mile 10-10:20.75
AND a bit extra! .13 of a mile, run in 1:07:43, part of which time I was removing the chip in the chute. It was also in the chute that I turned off the Garmin so possibly, the course is a bit longer than the usual few meters over the distance. Yes, I do run on the inside of the corners when turning, so I can't write it off to going the long way around a corner. No matter..I finished and I'm happy! I'll be back again next year!
Oh yes...that fruit that was pressed upon me. As I'm going through customs, they ask me, "Are you bringing back any fruits, vegetables or produce this evening?" Out of habit, I say "no", and then realize my mistake as the officer shines his flashlight into the back of my car. There sits the race bag, with a half dozen bananas and some odd oranges in it. Does one retract one's answer without opening oneself up to being searched? Luckily, it passed by, he never opened the bag (which had damp running clothes on top as it was), and I wasn't forced to deal with my cache of smuggled fruit. Alex got to enjoy his banana that evening, preserving our post-race tradition of sharing a banana between human and parrot, silly bird!
Yeah, that's the little culprit in the picture there. Don't let the innocent look and the colorful plumage fool you. Beneath all that feathered glory (and he IS a beautiful bird, I will give him that) lies a crafty, wiley disposition. I've said it once, and I'll say it again, living with Alex (the conure) and Rudy (the parakeet) is like living with Pinky and the Brain. Rudy will go along with most ideas, and Alex would gladly domineer over everything and everyone that is within his "territory".
It must be "find a mate" time in Alex's world, because he has been "wooing" me in a parrot fashion, snuggling with fluffed feathers, preening, and "creating a home" from a box in the front room. I keep pulling him away from his project, which entails trying to chew an access hole through the side of this large, cardboard shipping box, but he keeps returning to it.
Things escalated this weekend, as he has attacked Bry three times. Now, I'm not talking about him tagging Bryan for getting too close to his playperch. Oh no...he has taken it upon his bird-dom to fly across the room and latch onto bodily parts with that hookbill of his. Don't let anybody tell you that parrots peck. Parrots bite! The first time, Bry was trying to push him away (gently...Alex doesn't realize that he is fragile), and I intervened, receiving a chomp that went through the fleece arm of my pullover. He didn't break the skin, but I now have a quarter-sized purple bruise on my forearm that greatly resembles a hickey. Off Alex went, into his cage, covered up, what we named the "Covered Cage of Shame".
Now, Alex has an appointment for a wing clipping in a few days, but I decided to take him down a peg. I trimmed three feathers that I could easily identify as non-blood feathers. It didn't work. Alex flew at Bry again later that day, this time tagging Bry near the wrist a few times, as Bry tried to replace him on his play perch. Alex was too busy chomping to notice. I grabbed the nearest thing, my running jacket, and swept Alex up into it. Back he went, into the Covered Cage of Shame. Later, I trimmed another feather.
That didn't work. Alex once more took flight yesterday, missing Bryan, proving that I couldn't trust him to behave himself. Today has seen him spending the majority of the daylight hours in his cage, uncovered. He seems to be alright with it. The cage is oversized, standing five feet tall, with lots of room, water, food, and toys. He can still see what is going on, and can hear the Christmas music from the radio nearby. It's like a kid being sent to his room, one where he has a computer, books, and a GameBoy.
Needless to say, I can't wait for that wing and nail clipping in a couple of days. He is gentle with me, but boy, those sharp little claws sure can dig into one's jugular when he perches on the shoulder!
This was one difficult run. Most of my runs feel stiff or uncomfortable for the first mile or so, but then they even out. No such luck. By mile three, my right illiotibial band was making itself known. Great! I was just over three miles from home, approaching the North bridge, and there was NO shortcut home should I be forced to stop running. Luckily, I was wearing my hydration belt, and there were some leftover electrolyte caplets in one of the pockets. I took two of those with water, finished my run to the bridge, and then turned back. I figured if it didn't work itself out, I could go as straight as I could for home, cutting the run to eight miles.
Working my back up to the intersection of Long Rd., I headed down, deciding that the caplets had done the trick. I investigated a few side streets, adding to the mileage, and then headed South on the bike path again. By mile eight, my legs FINALLY felt warmed up. Whoa! An eight mile WARM UP?!
At this point, I decided that I could either run the mile to home, for a total of nine miles, or head through Veteran's Park, and make it an honest 12 miler. I turned left to head towards the park entrance. By mile 10-1/2, my legs were complaining again (so much for that warm up), so I took two more electrolyte caplets. I worked my way along the fitness path through the park, and then turned for home. During this time, I planned out what I prepare for recovery, a chocolate-banana protein smoothie. If it was colder, it might have ended up being hot cocoa with a dash of protein powder.
The watch chimed 12 miles just before the last turn to home. Yes! Ugh...that was a SLOW one. Granted, I walked three times for supplements or water, and I took a bathroom break, during which I did not stop the watch. Still....oh well, it was done.
I walked the last .2 of a mile home, set my damp jacket, hat, and gloves to dry, and set about the business of stretching. The boys were glad to see me, and I shared the banana with them, putting half in the smoothie, and the other half in their playperch food dish. Life with birds is interesting. I think that they were as glad to see me as to see something new in their food dish.
Our typical Saturday includes sleeping in (if you can call a 7:20 a.m. wakeup call from Rudy the parakeet "sleeping in"), followed by moving the boys to the playperch for a warm breakfast of their crazy corn mixture. I brew coffee, and make a refigerator omelette, using leftover meat and veggies for the filling. Then I check my email, over a piece of post-eggs toast and coffee.
Midway through this morning's preperations, Alex the conure decided to take a bath in the water dish. He seemed so intent on getting his front drenched, that I removed the small water dish and replaced it with the large water dish, the one I call "the wading pool". I hadn't even slid the dish into its' holder, but Alex lept into the water within, spraying me and everything with three feet with droplets. Five minutes later, after much chirping and wing fluttering, the bath was done. That was one happy conure.
Then comes Rudy. I look up from chopping asparagus to see him, feathers afluff, easing first one foot, then the other, into the dish of water, lowering his body in last. His slow, careful motions reminded me of a human being testing the hot bath water with one toe, followed by gradually easing into the bathtub. Sitting there, with his feathers puffed up, he gave me this impression of a bird with a Phyllis Diller hairdo. Such a difference from the helter-skelter bathing regime of Alex.
Our post-omelette toast was another good example of how different these two are. I toasted a couple whole-wheat crumpettes, and got out a pot of berry preserves. Breaking off a piece of crumpette, I offered it "as is" to Rudy. He likes to have his food "clean", without any grease or goo. Heaven forbid that we should ever get our claws dirty. Don't get the idea that he is a fastidious bird in all of his behaviours. This is the same parakeet that I have caught foraging for parrot poop to crunch on Alex's cage top. Yuck!
Before handing Alex his bit of crumpette, I smear it with a smidge of preserves. Alex loves anything gooey and sweet. There are times that I've done a double-take, noting how red his claws are, going into a panic until I remember that we had raspberries for breakfast. He loves to eat his snacks "out of claw" like a sandwich. Alex digs into his tidbit with gusto. Meanwhile, Rudy is making soup with his at the water dish (yes, the same dish they took a bath in...yuck...time to change the water again).
So, am I living with Alex and Rudy? Felix Unger and Oscar Madison? Pinky and the Brain?
After pigging out over the food dish, Alex decided that he wanted to reaffirm flock connections. He climbed onto my shoulder, and began to preen the salt from my face...and he wouldn't stop! He just kept working away on this one spot on my cheek until I was sure that it was red. I would push him away from it, and he'd push right back. I'd flip him over to the other shoulder, and he'd sneak around the back of my neck. Parrots can become so fixated! Finally I took a pic with the cell phone, and it's hilarious. Alex (the one in the pic for this posting), is licking away at my cheek, working off the salt....he is so fixated on it! Parrots! One never fully understands them, and you're never in control of them. You can reach an uneasy truce, however....
Having the RIGHT running socks really matters. Case in point, take my last two runs.
Yesterday's run had me getting ready in a hurry. Lin and I had just finishing hanging a display of elementary level art at the Veteran's Hospital. We had wanted to get something special up along that LLLOOONNNNGGG white hallway, especially that the following day was Veterans' Day.
So, immediately after hanging the show, I ran out to the car and grabbed my race bag. Rather than drive back to school (as it was after 3:30), I decided it would be "greener" to run from the VA Hospital. Besides, the change of scenery would do me good. I don't run on the West side of town as often as I run on the East. In the process of getting geared up, I missed changing my socks.
Now, the socks I had on were running socks, but they were ones that fit better 35 pounds ago. It seems that as my body shrunk in size, my feet did too. Odd, but true. I didn't think of my feet as being "fat" eleven months ago, but apparently they were! I decided that it wouldn't be a big deal wearing these socks; after all, they were designed for running, right? Yeah, right....
There was just enough extra material that it caused a niggle of irritation in the toe area of the right foot. I only noticed this during the first mile, during which I told myself that I was being foolish. Suck it up and keep going. After four miles, I hopped back in the car, drove out to have dinner with the folks, and finally, around 9:00, headed for home.
It wasn't until I got home that I noticed what that irritation had done. Yes, I had changed at my folks' place, but I hadn't spied the blood blister that had formed on the inside edge of my big toe. Apparently the excess sock material had wedged the toe next to it beside it in such a way that the smaller nail rubbed...and rubbed...and rubbed with every footfall.
Today, I wore proper fitting socks, and only noticed the sore spot at the quarter mile point. I figured that it was just tender from yesterday, and continued on. I was only out for a three miler. Well, I run according to what I feel when I'm close to home, and those three miles became four...then five...and finally six before I was standing at my doorstep again. The blood blister was long forgotten until I removed my socks. Ugh! The thing had broken, and there was a smear of drying blood across those two toes. Gross! Luckily, that seems to have been the extent of it. There wasn't much blood, and what there was seems to have been what was captured in the blister yesterday. Today's workout just "set it free".
The moral of the story? Wear the proper socks, ones without "room to grow". Just because it worked almost a year ago doesn't mean that you can "get away with it" today, especially when the fitting has changed. I'm sorry if this has been TMI; it seems that only runners obsess over their feet this way.
Anyhow, I digress. I didn't see yesterday's 5k coming at all. I had signed up in September for Lindsay's Legacy, a race to benefit childhood cancer research. It was a good cause, as I'm a pushover for that sort of thing. I lost a fifth grader to cancer my very first year of teaching, so it strikes very close to home. Plus, they were offering a mug and a tote bag, rather than just another cotton t-shirt to wear once and then stash in the box under the bed.
Race day came with the threat of rain showers and a significant drop in temperature. We had been enjoying an Indian Summer here in Western New York, and I had been making good use of it, wearing shorts for what I can only presume is the last time before the lake effect snow flies. I had already told myself that if it was really cold and rainy, it was just a 5k. As it turns out, yes, it was chillier, but the rain held off. I donned my favorite Asics tights, the really light ones, a long-sleeved tech top and my yellow Fleet Feet jacket, and bopped out the door at 8:35.
The race wasn't until 11:00, so even though I jogged over from where I parked at Tops, I was still significantly early, so I had time to walk back to the car and reposition it just two blocks down the street from the hall where the post-race party was being held. I sat in the car, decompressed to music, finished off my coffee, and decided that with less than an hour to go, it was time to start warming up and cycling through the bathroom line. Nerves are my undoing every time. I cycled through that line three times, in between running laps around the block. My guestimation is that I ran about 1-1/2 miles for warmup. The Garmin Forerunner 405 was turned off, as I was down to 20 percent battery power, and I wanted to conserve it for the race. I needn't have worried, but hey, who knew?
Gun time was imminent, so I jogged down to the start. GG surprised me by showing up to cheer me on. We chatted while I waited for the Garmin to lock onto satellites. It actually took long enough that I began to think the race might start before it was ready. Luckily, it finally "found" me, about the time that GG said that she was going to move to the sidelines before she was mistaken for a runner. I chatted with another runner who had done three half marys, but wasn't sure she was capable of a full, ending just before the starter sounded. We were off!
The pack was jogging....barely...as we started. A hundred feet into the race, I saw Bry's red hat, so I doubled back a few steps to give him a kiss. To heck with my time! If this was as fast as the race was going to mve, I was destined to run another 32 minute 5k. Joining the jogging throng again, I was fully accepting that I was there solely to run (or jog) with the pack, rather than for a personal best.
That was one weird first mile. During the first half, I was passing runners right and left. Was I going out too fast? It didn't feel like it. Still, I'm the one who is always passed or bumped as others stream past me at the start, so I had taken care to start off in the back. Even so, the number of people I cruised past was a bit unnerving.
Things had evened out by the time we turned onto River Road, and were running uphill towards the one mile marker. I saw George, with his race tag sticking off of the back of his hat. I fixated on that for a bit, wondering what it was, until I got closer. Now, I can't remember if he moved on ahead, or whether I passed him. Given that I got close enough to see the printing on the tag, I must have moved on ahead, but I honestly don't remember. By that time, I was in a running daze. Somebody with a stopwatch called out "10:05" as I moved past the mile marker. Wow...it didn't feel like I was running a 10-minute mile! I took a peek at my Garmin. 10:01. Geeze!
We moved on down the opposite side of the hill, towards our turn into Niawanda Park. It was then that I saw Frannie running on the bike path there. She's been doing really well in races lately. This also set me to wondering about what was happening in this race. Her form looked good, and she was running steady and strong, so I pondered on what was occurring within me as I worked to keep her in sight.
Mile two felt like I had to be slowing down. Frannie was still ahead of me, and both of our paces were consistent with each other, so I wasn't gaining any ground. Mile three also felt like I couldn't pick up the pace. I did gain ground on Frannie, but it didn't feel like I was moving any faster. I concentrated on keeping my form together, and slowly edged up on her. Geeze, it would be nice to finish the race together. I was getting tired of being the last of our circle in, as it leaves me feeling like I'm holding everybody up.
I mumbled "Let's finish this race to her"...it was the best I could do. Everything I had was going into just making sure that my foot struck the ground behind the ball of the foot and pawing through. To my surprise, I moved past her. This was something I hadn't planned on, and I almost hesitated. I didn't want to pass Fran, but I also knew that she would beat me up later if she found out that I held back, even for a second.
We came up to the turn towards Tops, and then I saw Audra again. I took a glimpse at my Garmin, the second time that I had looked at it during the race. There was about .2 of a mile left, and I was at 29 minutes and some seconds (can't remember how many). I stood a chance of finishing in under 30 minutes!
As I moved along, I wasn't sure...did they want us to run over the median or around? There were runners on the other side, just ahead of me, but I hadn't seen how they got there, and none of the volunteers were doing anything other than clapping. Goody. Up and over I went, praying that I wouldn't catch my toe on the edge of the curb and go flying onto my face. I made it; so far, so good. I asked Audra about it later, and she said that she didn't know what the previous runners had done either, but that the ones following me did the same as I had.
I tore down that last stretch as fast as I could. The only person I recognized was Sandy, who was cheering on Frannie and myself. Fran must have been just behind me. Bryan said that he was there, taking my picture, about 100 feet before the finish line, but I honestly didn't see him. All I could see was that finish line clock, with a big 29:42 on it. I had to push through. I yelled out, "Yes!", as I crossed the line before the clock changed over to 30 minutes. This time might be slow for many, but it was a big step forward in my training.
According to the Garmin, my finishing time was 29:51. According to the posted results on the board, I was 29:45. Whatever the number, I was happy. I finished a 5k in sub-30, when I didn't think it was possible yet.
I walked around a bit with Fran, getting water until we saw Sandy. I was joined by GG and Bryan. Fran and Sandy jogged off, and GG, Bry and I walked around, discovering a little "park-ette" that is just begging for a geocache. I took a couple waypoints with the Forerunner, and then we headed off to the postrace party.
Pizza...lots of desserts...and multiple ways to spend money on raffles and 50/50's. We didn't win anything, but we had a good time. It was during the drawings that I checked my time on the results board, and was thrilled to find that I finished dead smack in the middle, rather than on one of the last boards. What was even better was when I peeked at my splits on the Forerunner. Negative splits...wow.
Mile 1 - 10:01.8
Mile 2 - 9:46.03
Mile 3 - 9:19.63
.1 - 00:45.19
In spite of not winning any of the raffles (I so wanted that bike for GG), I was happy with the day. To heck with the race time...negative splits! Woot!
...at least, that's what I was hoping for. I figured that if I could just hold onto a 12 minute per mile pace, with at least a few miles under that pace, I'd be in the ballpark. It turns out that I ran it in 2:23:30.4 chip time (although my Garmin said 2:23:34; I stopped it at the second mat beyond the finish line).
Technically, I don't think that I could have run this race any better on this given day. Yes, 2:23:30 is slow by the standards of many runners, BUT it's a good baseline for me to build upon, and it's still better than my very first half mary several years ago.
The weather report was for windy with a 60 percent chance of rain; thundershowers in the afternoon. The wind was there, at our backs for the most part, and the rain held off until about 4:00, well after we had finished and made our way home.
At the one mile point, I heard a familiar voice ahead of me. It was Bernie, a die-hard distance runner with a very likeable personality. Bernie has seen the evolution of running over the years, and he is a joy to run with along the Amherst Bike Path, as he can tell you the most amazing stories about races from over 30 years ago. After chatting for a bit about Achilles athletes and being an Achilles Guide for NYCM, I had to push on and run my race.
Within the initial two miles, the runners sorted themselves out, and I soon found myself amongst a group of runners for the remainder of the race. Most folks were taking walk breaks. I slowed down for water stops, but didn't take any scheduled walk breaks, as those don't work for me. There were folks who would pass me on their run section, and then I would pass them while they were walking. It just kept repeating itself, again and again. Mile five was my slowest, although I gradually caught back up with these same folks. I had a toe on the right foot that was cramping up, so I took the time to dig out some electrolyte tablets to head it off before it became a real issue. These few seconds lost probably saved me many minutes in the long run.
Around mile 9, I heard the sound of an ambulance. Bry told me, post-race, that he had seen a runner passed out on the side of the road. At the time, I just sent up a silent prayer that whomever it was for would turn out to be okay. Anything can happen in these races, no matter what the distance.
The volunteers were awesome, especially the college groups. They would cheer, ring cow bells, drum, and make such a din about each runner. I could feel my pace pick up for a bit through each one. Even some of the more subdued waterstops (every mile!) were amazing, such as the folks dressed up for surgery, handing out water beside a table on which "resusci-annie" was wearing running gear and an oxygen mask. Morbid, yes, but by the last 5k of the race, my sanity has long since left me.
It's somewhere along 1:45-1:50 that I realize there's only 3.1 miles left....and I might do better than a 2:30 if I can just hold to pace. At mile 11, my legs announce, "Nope, that's it! We're toast!" Yeah, right....I do my best to ignore their suggestion of walking the last two miles.
With a mile left to go, I go through the last waterstop. A group of three runners that has been playing tag with me tell me to keep up the pace, with one of them adding that they'll pass me again. Oh yeah, that's all I needed to make sure that I reached down deep to find a 10:02 mile, followed by 1:30 for that last .1 of a mile. They DIDN'T pass me again! I didn't give them the chance.
Bry met me along this last stretch. He had already finished in 2:07 and some change, and had doubled back to run me in. We were doing well until the last little bit. Two of his friends edged between us, speeding up to get through the gap, and then spreading out and slowing down, JUST enough that I almost slammed into the back of one of them during my toe-off. I tried passing on the right, but she moved over further. So I ducked to the left of her husband and blew past them on the left, passing just before the finish line, and pushing through that last bit like I had meant to run it before being cut off.
Bryan followed me through the chute, and put the medal around my neck as I sobbed. I had been afraid that I would miss that window for 2:30, and it wasn't until seeing the finish line clock that I realized how soundly I had beat it. One of my Track Niagara friends was concerned that I was upset, but I assured her that they were tears of joy, not frustration and pain (although I've had those at the end of races too).
My splits were:
Mile 1 - 10:52.94
Mile 2 - 11:04.80
Mile 3 - 11:09.51
Mile 4 - 11:09.87
Mile 5 - 11:27.11
Mile 6 - 10:40.56
Mile 7 - 10:55.55
Mile 8 - 10:57.14
Mile 9 - 10:52.54
Mile 10 - 10:43.22
Mile 11 - 10:57.44
Mile 12 - 11:09.95
Mile 13 - 10:02.89
That last .1 - 1:30.75
Looking at my splits, I can barely believe my eyes. I don't think I've ever run so evenly throughout any distance race before. The next year of running is suddenly looking a lot brighter for me! Thanks, Runners Community, for your posts of support, and for believing in me when I wasn't sure I could believe in myself. It brought me mental strength for the course.
The Long Run didn't happen, as up until Sunday, I was more concerned with just plain breathing. I had two doctor's appointments already scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, but suddenly they were taking on a whole new meaning.
On Monday, I tried an old trick I used to use in college; I went for a short, slow run to break up some of the congestion. Well, it did do that to a point. Every so often, I would have to double over by the side of the road, in order to spew out what my lungs had offered up, but even as I finished, it was evident that I had barely touched it.
Tuesday started out with an attempt at getting a blood test. I did the 12-hour fast, drinking over 80 ounces of water during that time, but they still couldn't sink a needle into a vein. I was declared to be dehydrated, and sent away from the Quest office, with the instructions to return when I was healthy.
My initial appointment with the Buffalo Medical Group was a rewrite of Murphy's Law. That rule now proclaims that if one is to have a potentially embarrassing exam done, the medical assistant in charge must be 15 to 20 years your junior, of the opposite sex, and cute. He must also be capable of blushing while asking you questions, as you eye the medical gloves resting nearby, knowing full well why they were there.
My general practitioner was the last stop of the day. There I was loaded up wth antibiotics, a change in asthma meds, and a nebulizer. Yes, I now own my own piece of hospital-type equipment. Aren't I special. He also told me that he wanted me back the next day for an IV of Vitamin C and B vitamins. THIS I get because I am not a candidate for the flu shot. Lucky me, I am allergic to the egg carrier and Thimerisol.
So Wednesday. Alex, the conure, manages to KO himself with his own bird toy first thing on the play perch, forcing me to call the doctor's office to postpone until the afternoon. I spent the morning with Alex in the kangaroo pouch of a fleece, watching him lest he go into shock. Instead, he was lively and playing within the hour, making faces at the quaker parakeet, I'm sure. "Hee hah, see where I am!" It's also worth noting that by this time, Alex has learned to imitate my long, drawn-out cough. Goody. My bird has yet another sound effect that he can perform, along with his imitation of the coffee grinder, the coffee pot, my inhaler, and me sipping overly hot coffee. Oh yes, he also does a very clear "Stop that!" and "Bye bye".
I make my way back to the doc's office early, and jog a mile just to pump up the veins. I didn't want a repeat of my blood test the day before, especially since insurance doesn't cover the cost of this type of procedure. Armed with two books and an iPod with two digital movies (Sex and the City, and Made of Honor), I entered the office. An assistant nurse took me straight back to the IV room, and as much as he tried, couldn't get the needle in a vein. I have a bruise on the back of my right hand to prove it. My fear of needles came flashing in, forcing me to beg some time to fight off the nausea. After this, the doc tried to insert the IV line himself. His first try, using the left hand this time, failed. I was ready to say, "Okay, I've had enough. Let's just say that we tried", but he asked for one more chance. Looking into his concerned face, I coudn't refuse....and dang if he didn't get it in and flowing smoothly! I then buried myself in my iPod, and didn't resurface until most of the IV and one of the movies was done. It does work; I do feel much better after those IV's.
So here I am. I finally got out this evening for a run, a 5k. It was everything I could do to drag myself out of the door, but I did, and I ran. They were steady, 12-minute miles, with a bit of coughing during the first mile, but the last two being rather quiet. I felt good at the end too, so perhaps this isn't much of a wash for my training, even if the timing was rotten. Two weeks until the Fallsview Half....hmmmm.
The fall harvest is showing up in markets now, including many of the green vegetables children find so disgusting and yet are forced to eat. What is the most disgusting thing you’ve eaten, either by choice or against your will? Submitted By |
The strangest thing I've tried, overall, was Worm Fritatta, cooked up in a Science Center cooking class. It's high protein, but definately not high on people's restaurant favorite choices, I'm sure.
Mom and Dad's early graduation present to me was a Selectric Electric typewriter, given in time for me to type that English term paper. I used this unit all through college for papers (personal computers, such as the early Texas Instruments models, were just making their way into the world, but they weren't part of mine).
Two months after graduation, I landed a job writing copy, commercials for a local radio station, as well as Sunday morning news. I used...yup...a typewriter. I had an electric for the commercials, but all newscopy had to be written on a special, manual unit, expressly designed for that type of writing. All caps, special spacing, no cheating. When I moved on to teaching, I thought that I was done with such things for the most part (except for paperwork and grades), but I was wrong.
Introduce the personal computer. I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the computer age. My bf at the time gave me one of the first Macs; remember that Brave New World/1984 style commercial? It was useful for papers, as was the two pcs that succeeded it. But it was the introduction of the internet that really called upon my typing skills.
Now I'm working my way through text considerably faster, using my keyboarding skills faster than I ever did in high school or my radio days. Schools no longer offer Typing in high school, but they do teach Keyboarding, starting in Elementary School. Not only do I use these skills every day at work for communication via letters, email and the web, but I use them at home for blogging, email, and more. It's the same skills, different name...and much easier on a computer keyboard than an old manual typewriter!
...is definately a more difficult run for me than ten miles of flat terrain. Hmmm...and here I thought that I always performed better on flat terrain.
Sunday's high humidity gave my asthma enough of a push that I decided to postpone my Long Run until Monday after work. I set out, armed with both optimism and intrepidation, to Genesee County Park in Bethany, NY. This is a lovely area, forested with various hardwoods and pines.
Many of my school field trips were to Genesee County Park, and I keep returning to it for various picnics, geocaching excursions, and training runs. On the corner of Townline Road and Raymond sits the old nursing home, originally a poor house, built in the 1800's to give those who had nothing but illness and old age a place to live out the rest of their days. Now it is closed, shuttered up and posted as "Private Property", but it shares a common history with the park. You see, the park lands used to serve as a burial grounds for those who had "moved on" from this site. Of the many graves, only a handful were marked; these graves have been moved to a small area within the park itself, a burial ground along the trail named "Death Row".
Genesee County Park is also a good place for hills. Since I'm looking at running a half mary in late October, I figured that it was time to incorporate some hills into my training. The race course is flat (Fallsview Half Marathon in Niagara Falls, Ontario), but hills build character. Today's experience also taught me that they make one VERY tired.
Upon parking, I decided to try one loop of the outer roads, Raymond and Townline, and then take the park that winds through the park back to Raymond. That should give me at least 3.5 miles, and I could decide how I felt from there. That alone just about beat the snot out of me. The first two hills had me slowing at the top, panting with exertion. Could it be that these got steeper? Or do I just not remember all of these hills? It wasn't an easy run, but after 3/4 of an hour, I had made my way through the park to Raymond Road. Then, some part of my brain twisted around, and I turned around to run back. I wound my way back through the park, up and down the rolling hills, until I was back at the Townline entrance...and I turned back again! By the time I was back at Raymond (hmmm...this looks familiar), I was at 7 miles. Geeze, I really wanted to say that I did eight!
So I turned around for half a mile back in. I ground my way back up a hill, this time marveling at how it felt easier than before. That didn't make sense, unless there's a way to overload pain sensors to the point where they no longer care. This was the cool part of the run, as I heard what sounded like a FLOCK of owls hooting off to my left. It started off as one...then a second owl joined in....then it was as if an entire family of owls was having some sort of animated conversation!
As I made my way back to my car, I considered running that first hill, the really hard one, one more time to make it nine miles. But I just didn't have it in me. I had given this run all I had, and it had handed it back to me in spades. I was toasted! Driving into Batavia, I visited Subway, where the thought of food caused me to wince. Yes, one should eat within a half hour of a hard workout, but that lowcal wrap looked huge. She cut it in half for me and wrapped up both pieces seperately.
Later, at home, I was going through the motions of doing crunches before taking a bath. After two sets, I was sitting on the floor beside the Bosu, slowly accepting that there wasn't enough of anything in me to churn out even one more set. Yup...I was crisped.
Hills may make one a stronger runner, but in the short term, they just flay me out and make me tired! LOL!
It made sense, so I tried this, and I did seem to get a few more miles out of my shoes with less frequent aches, pains, and maladies. However, being a teacher, funds were a bit short for new kicks during the summer months. I caved in and got a new pair of Brooks Glycerins, a week before my 15k race on Labor Day, but other than that, I was running in OLD shoes. I mean seriously old, not only used, but purchased three years ago.
So it's Friday, the first paycheck of the school year, and I have the added bonus of getting a check for half of my summer work. Woo hoo! Time for shoes! I scurried on over to Fleet Feet and perused their cushioning shoes. I wanted to love the Asics Nimbus, I really did, as it had extraordinary plushness to it. However, my foot structure had a problem with the internal mechanics of the shoe. There was a portion that I was "aware of" on the outside left of the toes. It didn't hurt, but experience has taught me that awareness can turn to pain in just 5k. The Cumulus was nice though, and ended up in my "pile" of loot.
Saucony, a former favorite, now makes the ProGrid Ride. These felt perfect, perhaps better than the Glycerins, and they joined the Asics.
Now, I take the occasional trail run, and there's nothing that can trash a new pair of trainers made for the road than a good, rutted, muddy trail. Been there, done that. So I investigated the Brooks Cascadia. Although it felt like a rigid ride during my quick tour of the parking lot (always run a bit in the shoes before you buy), I was sure that the wide, deep tread would be a welcome advantage when encountering tree roots in the trail. Onto the pile they went.
Wow...three new pairs of shoes, all in one fitting. I don't think I've ever worked myself up to purchasing that many in one sitting, but they felt right, and should see me through until late Spring (although I'll be back to purchase something with Gortex once the snow flies). I guess it's still cheaper than an overuse injury.
I look upon "Runners" and my own blog as ways to not only stay motivated, but as a venue for keeping my running "honest". I am less apt to wimp out of a training run if I KNOW that a) I have an upcoming race or b) there's a group to report to about said upcoming race.
So today is a grey, overcast, humid day in Buffalo, NY. The wimpy left brain was praying that it would be pouring sheets of rain when I got up, thus giving me a reason not to push through a 5k road race, the Laughlin's 5k Road Race. Nope. It obviously had rained earlier, but the skies were rain-free. Grumble grumble. Time to stare into a bowl of oatmeal.
One would think, given the number of races that I've participated in over the years, that 5k races wouldn't cause me to stress. Nope. I was jittery all the way up until gun time. I jogged about a bit, saw Edna, so we chatted a bit...jogged off again, and then saw Flash, a geocaching friend of mine...then jogged off again, and saw Fran. I think I warmed up the jaw far better than the legs, but it was okay. I just wanted the race over with. Even as I was standing in conversation, my right knee was twitching, a sign of nervousness in me.
The starting horn sounded, and we all took off. My prayer, and really my only hope for today, was to FINISH the race before the Buffalo Police closed the course on me. I wasn't worried about being last for a change; I just wanted to cross that finish line with some amount of dignity.
The pack quickly moved off, leaving the back of the packers to fight out our order amongst ourselves. During that first mile, I was thinking, "Man, this is hard!" Whew...no wonder. At the one mile point, my Garmin chirped off the first of three one-mile times...10:04. Now, this isn't speedy for most folks, but for me right now, that's pretty close to what might be construed as speed.
The second mile brought some uphill, which was reflected in the time spent there. The Garmin chirped again....10:48. here was also a waterstop, and I made myself slow down enough to swallow a couple sips before pouring the remains over my quads. The phrase, "Full Monty", is usually lost on the water table attendants in our races. In other locales, it means, "Throw the water at me! Prefereably at my legs!" The kids love this, but don't teach it to kids where both gatorade and water is being handed out, else you might find yourself covered in something that is blue or orange in color.
The back of the pack is still on the move. Each mile saw me gaining some ground, passing a few people who had started out too fast. I made a note to pick up the pace for a bit, and since I wasn't sure about holding the pace for a full mile, I chose to fartlek, holding the pick up until a stop light. I then gave myself time to take the corner turn, and then picked it up again for another two blocks. The course is moving downhill, and soon we are at the last leg. Less than a half mile to go. I have just passed another runner, and I KNOW I have to hold the pace, else she'll pull past me at the end. I pick up the turnover, and just concentrate on keeping my feet ankling over each other, paw-footing through to the end. As it turned out, she tried to keep up, but my last minute push kept me just ahead of her. I finished in 32:03, which is a full two minutes better than I ran in Run for the Rosas last May. Hmmm....a 10:20 minute per mile average. I'll take it! It's not as fast as I'd like to be, but it's a step closer to where I INTEND to be, given time and improvement.
Afterwards, it was time to hobnob with fellow runners and friends. The post-race party included roast beef, a salad of dark greens, fruit, and pasta salad. They had me with the dark greens and fruit...the roast beef, which was a tender shade of pink, was a bonus. I skipped the roll and just had it with my salad. Every calorie saved counts, and when I have carbs these days, I prefer to have them from whole grains. It was a good time, especially sitting around a picnic table with friends. Perhaps I should remember this, the next time that I'm tempted to grumble into my oatmeal about a morning race.
So, I'm running 11-minute miles, and there's just three miles left in the race. My gel was gone almost an hour before, and my blood sugar is beginning to tank. That's when another runner sees me lagging, and offers me some Sharkies, this gummy-electrolyte food made for endurance sports. They tuck the rest of the pack in my hand and take off. Those Sharkies helped me finish without hitting the wall, and have made me a fan of such supplements ever since. Bry enjoys them too, and we've been referring to these little gummy fish as "Scooby Snacks" for at least three or four years. (You knew that I would eventually get back to the point of this post.)
I still buy Sharkies, but I am an even bigger fan of Sports Beans by Jelly Belly, and Shock Blox by Cliff. To Bry, these are the ultimate "Scooby Snacks". Whenever he hears the crinkle of a cello bag, pre or post race, he perks up. "C'mon...just one!" Yes, I now have to make sure that I stash an extra bag out of his sight, prior to race time, else we might have an instant repeat of the Scotia Bank Half Mary!
Back in July, I was cruising the Buffalo Runners race calendar, looking for a 10k for Bry. He wanted one in late August, and I wasn't able to come up with one. During that search, the Run Into Buffalo 15k caught my eye. It was being run by my friends at Fleet Feet, which is always a plus. Even better, the race premium was a tech shirt by Brooks! Dan always gets the best tech shirts for his marathon groups, so I was sure that this was every bit as fine a shirt for training purposes post-race.
After chewing it over for a couple of days (after all, it was 15k, 9.3 miles!), I decided that if I kept increasing my mileage steadily during my Long Runs, I should be able to complete this race. It might not be a spectacular race time, as I was averaging 12 to 13 minute miles for training, depending on the humidity level, but I could finish upright. That counts for something. So, I signed up...
Race day came, and I was all jittery. Actually, the jitters started two days before, based on all the self-doubt that runs through the left lobe of my brain. The world loves those runners who run fast. They accept those who run middle-of-the-pack. But by the time us back-of-the-packers come in, they're sometimes rolling up the timing mat.
Bry and I arrived over an hour before race time, parking about two blocks away in a parking garage. After collecting our champion chips (it seems that chip-timing is the main highway for racing these days, even with 5ks), we had plenty of time to cycle through hydrating and standing in line for the washroom. I spun through this cycle quite a few times, mostly out of nerves. I was fairly certain that there were no portapotties along the route, although it turns out that the route was a two-loop deal, so I had access to them at the halfway point. As it turns out, I didn't need one.
I ran into both Greg and Edna while circling around, waiting for race start. Greg had the number 3 on his bib, and he was joking about it, saying that he wasn't sure that he could live up to it. I hadn't seen Greg in years, but his good-natured humor hadn't changed. Edna was ready to race, and smiling. She's amazing, always active and on-the-go.
My twitching continued all the way through race start time. Once the horn sounded, I could actually feel the tension flow out of me. It was hot, it was humid, and there was little shade....yet I was going to stay the course.
Unlike most 5ks, in which I lose sight of any other runners after 1.5 miles, I always have someone in sight ahead of me during distance races. I can't say why this is so. Perhaps more people are attracted to distances over 5ks, which are a regular occurance around here, almost a dime a dozen. Or perhaps it's because my race pace is fairly steady when it comes to distance. Gone are the days when I rabbit off, burning off the majority of my glycogen during the first few miles. Now I track my pace, run within myself, and aim for negative splits. By the half-way point, I can look forward to catching up to some other runners, slowly passing them. I might not be fast, but I am race-experienced.
One might not think of the city of Buffalo as having hills, but that first mile was one long, steady incline. That took the stuffing out of some runners. I wasn't too bad off, but it made me think that it's time to start working on some tougher hills at Bond Lake or Chestnut Ridge.
It was at mile 3.5 that trouble rose its' head. My illiotibial band seized up on the right side. I was moving slow already, but it forced me to break down my pace even more, which wounded me mentally. After two or three blocks, I realized it wasn't going to let up without some coaxing. I stopped, stretched, and that helped for a half mile, after which it tightened up again. By this point, I was getting close to finishing the first loop of the race. The thought of running the second loop like this was painful enough, knowing that to do so might lay me up for some time. There was the second waterstop, and as I was considering what to do, I took a second cup and poured it down the inflamed fascia. The result was instant! The ITB loosened up! I grabbed a third cup and soaked the area of my running capris, which held the cooling moisture in place. A fourth cup went on the left ITB area, to prevent it from getting any ideas. One water table attendant said, "You'll be okay." I'm not sure she that she understood my sudden frenzy, but it was out of joy, realizing that I stood a chance of finishing, rather than having to register a DNF.
The second loop was just as hot and miserable. The sun was getting higher in the sky, so there was even less shade along the route. I passed one person after another, each of them looking as miserable as I felt. One lady looked really shakey. As I ran alongside her, I asked if she was okay, she quipped back, "No, I feel like s***!" Okay, that was pulling no punches! Figuring that her electrolytes were off, I offered her some Cliff Shock Blox, but she turned them down, saying that they upset her stomach. She wanted gatorade, but I couldn't help her there.
At the fountain, I ran past Bernie, who I haven't seen in years. We chatted for a bit, until I knew that I couldn't afford to hold back my pace any longer. It wasn't that I was concerned with my finishing time; it's just that I run my pace, or I cease to be able to run. So I waved, telling him that I'd see him at the finish, and continued on. It was good to see him; he's one of my heros, as he has a heart of gold. While he might not be speedy, he has a love of the sport that rises above all others.
I passed another couple with just over a mile to finish. They were walking, as he was suffering from cramps. I slowed down long enough to give him some Shock Blox, and continued on. By this point, Robin, a Niagara Walker, and I were playing tag. She'd be ahead, slow down for a bit, and then I would pass. Then I'd slow down to talk to somebody, and she'd pass. We kept going back and forth for awhile, until I ran ahead with a half mile to go. She was close behind, but I could practically smell the finish line ahead of me. No, it wasn't the stench of smelly bodies, but heaven help me, I wanted to be DONE! Kudos to the race committee. Somebody had convinced the Buffalo City police to keep the race course over for all of us, which is not an easy feat. Perhaps it was because it was a low-traffic holiday downtown, but at any rate, I was grateful. It allowed me the chance to finish with dignity on the roadway, rather than the sidewalk.
As I headed into Niagara Square, that traffic circle in front of the behemoth, City Hall (man, doesn't that look like it needs to be in a Ghost Busters sequel), I sped up. One of the folks at the finish line said that I finished strong. She looked up, as the crowd had begun to cheer, and saw me sprinting over the finishers' mats. The crowds always like to see somebody hurtle over the finish line, as opposed to drag.
Bry met me there, and I was pleased to see Fran and Louise. It had been a long time since I had seen the two of them, as I've been running on my own until I get my speed up. We toddled off to the post-race party, where they were serving barbecued, marinated chicken sandwiches. The bun was too much, but I enjoyed the chicken. My post-race banana, as is tradition, was saved until I got home, to be shared with Alex. He might be a parrot, but it's my way of including him, with his all-time favorite food.
Am I glad that I ran it? Yes! As predicted, it wasn't a spectacular finishing time. I crossed the mats with a chip time of 1:51:34, averaging 12 minutes miles. My mile splits, according to the Garmin Forerunner, were 11:44.25, 11:12.42, 12:01.09, 11:45:42, 12:41.94 (ah, there's the ITB issue at work), 12:35.79, 12:18.97, 12:18.84, and 11:36.50, with a last little bit of 3:56.92 for the last .3 of a mile. Given that I had ITB issues, I think that I ran this race as best as I could, technically. And I finished with a final, negative split, which is always a bonus, even if the rest of them previously where just holding on to a consistant pace.
Now I can wear that Brooks tech shirt to train...and aim for a better time next year.
Friday night, September 5th, was the date of the innaugural Diner Dash 4-Miler, a race to benefit the Loaves and Fishes meal program. The program, a venue to provide a nutritious meal to those on tight budgets, who are struggling to get back on their feet, is a honorable one. If the meal they provide is anything like their post-race party, I can say that I am quite happy that I did this race, if only for that.
I initially signed up for the tech hat that they were giving to registrants, and of course, I had to run the race in order to feel as I had the right to actualy WEAR the hat. Yes, I'm superstitious that way. I don't wear my race shirts until after I run the race either. My one fear, which later proved to be more than valid, were the Buffalo Police Force. This race was using the Suburu 4-Miler course, which runs long stretches along both Elmwood and Delaware Avenues. The Buffalo City Police are notorious for shutting down the race course early, after the bulk of the middle-pack runners have gone through, leaving the back of the packers to fend for themselves.
After being jittery all afternoon about this, I popped into registration a half hour after it started. The hat was worth the registration fee; it was truly a nice race premium to get. Then I spent the next hour-and-a-half hydrating, running to the washroom, chatting with Edna (my hero...a retired teacher who runs many races and never gives up), hydrating more, and running to the washroom yet again. It was like a spin cycle...add water, rinse, spin dry, repeat!
Finally it's time to toe up to the start line. For once I managed to find the perfect place at the back of the pack, as I don't remember any congestion after the gun went off. Of course, there were just over 100 race numbers given out. There were course directions, but I couldn't hear them over the nervous chatter of the runners. The horn sounded, and we were off.
The bulk of the pack pulled away. I trailed behind Edna for a bit, as the rest moved quickly ahead of us. It wasn't long before I saw Greg up ahead, calling out mile splits to the runners. I hadn't yet glanced at my Garmin, as my basic race mode these days is survival; it doesn't really matter what the finishing time is, as long as I did my best, and I was upright. So I was surprised to hear him call out "10:27...10:28...10:30!" I had just pulled a 10:30 mile out of my hat. What was more amazing was that I felt that I could hold this pace for the remaining three miles. Ah, but then, I had forgotten about the Buffalo Police force.
As I've said, they are notorious for shutting down this race course as soon as they can. Yes, I agree that a Friday evening, utilizing these two busy roadways, is not the best time for a 4-mile race. Commuters are busy getting to happy hour, dinner out, or home after the work week. I had heard one guy (I won't say gentleman), reaming out a volunteer because his wife was a quarter mile away in traffic that was being delayed for the race.
In the past, for the Suburu 4-Mile Chase, the Buffalo Police have started closing down the course at the one mile point, 12 minutes into the race. In other words, if you ran a 12-minute mile or slower, you had to run on the sidewalks (ouch) and fend the intersections for yourself (double ouch). THIS time, I was running 10:30 miles until about the 1-1/2 mile point, when a cruiser went through, telling us all to get up onto the sidewalk. What!!!??
Sure enough, cars started streaming through, and it was too dangerous to try to stay on the road. I had to move to the concrete sidewalk for the rest of the race, which killed my race time and aggravated the arthritis in my left knee. I believe that I was still running as fast, but I had to wait for cars at intersections, dodge around pedestrians on the Elmwood strip, plus I lost time at a crucial turn. It seems that the police also told the volunteers that they were done, and the younger volunteers abandoned their posts. Not only did I lose time asking "Did the runners go this way?", but I almost misturned, following a group of teenage volunteers down a side street that wasn't part of the course.
By the time I figured out where the finish line was, I was close to tears. I had run my best, really I had, and yet the callous treatment of the Buffalo Police force left me feeling like less than a runner. I finished in 43:55 chip time, with an overall time of 10:59 pace. My Garmin had my splits at: 10:32, 11:44, 11:05 (I was able to get onto the pavement for a bit of space in that split), and 10:34. By the final mile, I was just barreling down the sidewalk, calling out, "Runner coming through!" Somebody commented that I finished smiling, and that was good. Actually, I may have just been glad that the experience with the course was over.
My knee was letting me know that something was going on, so I asked for ice at the post-race party. No ice....but they gave me a small package of frozen corn niblets. I sat there, "corning" my knee, trying to assure the fluttering volunteers that I was going to be okay, as long as I cooled down the area now. If I had waited, there could have been reprecussions. The volunteers were very kind, checking up on me, offering to get me food (which I declined...I didn't want to feel like an invalid). Finally, it felt safe enough to move, get myself a plate, and then continue to ice while I ate.
The spread was wonderful. Sandwiches on whole wheat sub rolls, a yogurt bar with some of the best vanilla yogurt I've ever had, complete with fruit and granola toppings, orange slices, banana, cookies, water, and soda. I have a feeling that the folks who eat at the Loaves and Fishes go home feeling better for it, as it is wholesome, overall nutritous, with a family atmosphere. It's a place that is good for the body and the soul.
Edna invited me to sit with her, so I ate and chatted while a rivulet from my bag of corn dribbled down from my knee into my shoe. The awards ceremony took place, but I have no illusions that I might have placed, even if there hadn't been problems on the course. I am not nearly that fast. Besides...I got corn.
Yes, I would recommend this race to others, in spite of the Buffalo Police and their reputation with the course. Perhaps the race committee will opt for a less busy time of day for this race in 2009. In the meantime, I will pray that the police force will have an epiphany, and develop some sort of empathy for race runners, walkers, and everyone in between. In a day when such a high percentage of our country's population is considered to be overweight or obese, it would be nice to say that our police force supported efforts to keep our population healthy. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be happening yet. In the meantime, I can still say...I got corn!
Plus points for this race, qualities I think will make it a "must-do" event in the future:
1- A Race Committee who really cares, both about the race and their charity. This core of people will be the ones who help make this work better and better in every ensuing year.
2- An unusual tech goody, rather than just another cotton t-shirt.
3- A very nice post-race party, in a comfortable setting.
Edit - I should mention here that I have signed up for three other races, one next weekend, one in October, and one in November, all since I finished this race, so I would say that it didn't get me down for long.
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