The Worst Race

 

 

When I signed up for the Rockford half marathon, I was excited. After my half in September, I was anxious to do another one. Besides I signed up in December, and figured it was more than enough time to train. I was wrong.

Though we’d had a mild winter until then, January brought snow storm after snow storm, freezing temperatures and me being lazy, meant that my training sucked. My last long long run was in January when I hit 12 miles. The degree to which I was under trained, did not hit me until I was in Florida for work earlier this month. I tried to go on a run while there, but the Florida humidity got to me.  I was waiting for my flight back to Chicago, when I took a look at my race schedule. I wasn’t even aware that I had been thinking about it, but I knew right then, that there was no way I could do a half. Even if I trained every day for the next three weeks, there would be no way I’d be half ready. After a series of emails between Simon, the race organizer and I, I changed events.

 

Sort of.

 

I emailed the race organizer and asked to change events. I was told that I had until packet pick up to do so. I emailed him back the same day, and told him that no, I was sure I wanted to change it and never heard back. This inspired many nightmares where I showed up for packet pick up and they forced me to run the half anyway. Needless to say I’ve not been sleeping well.

Simon has always been the driver on my races, save for two. Rockford is about an hour away from us, so it meant we had to leave at 5:20. I haven’t been up that early on a Sunday…in like ever. We made the trek, and it wasn’t too long before I’d begun to have stomach issues. It was at this point we realized, pulling into Rockford that we were at the wrong location. EFF. I pulled out my cellphone and punched in a new address, and realized it would take us about 22 minutes to get to get to packet pick up. It was 6:35. The race started at 7:15. And my stomach was killing me.

We sped across mostly deserted Rockford, and made it just at 6:50. After a minor meltdown about where I should be dropped and the location of the port-o-potties, I bolted from the car and raced over to get my race bib. I was so frazzled, I missed the sign telling me to get my bib number before I got my packet. And even though I’d read the race participant guide, I had no idea how to attach my tracker to my shoe. Thank God for the Gear Check guy. I checked my jacket and my race shirt and headed for the bathroom. The lines were mercifully short, and I got to the start line just in time for the Half Marathon/Marathoners which started at 7. I located Simon and gave him my cell phone.

 

 

I had planned to run the race with my own water supply, but once I put it around my waist, I realized it was too heavy. I dumped it and gave it to Simon keeping only my clif bar. I was about to leave him, when I realized that I was missing something. My music! I’d left in Simon’s car when I bolted. I wasn’t really sure how  I’d be able to do the mileage without my tunes. I’ve always used it as a way to pick up the tempo and power through the pain. I was upset for a bit, but I had no choice at that point. I lined up and waited for the inevitable.

 

This is my pleased face. It was about this time I also realized I’d forgotten to stretch and warm up. This race was going to be awesome.

 

The race was timed perfectly. The gun went off exactly at 7:15. I took off with the rest of the crowd, completely unsure of myself. I felt out of my element as if I’d never run a race before. I kept a pretty good pace, or so I thought. I refused to get pulled into monitoring my pace. With all the things that had gone wrong, I just wanted to finish the race and call it a day.

The first three miles were good. I felt on top of my game and I was almost halfway done. And then something weird happened. Another runner started up a conversation with me. In all my races, I’ve never had this happen. I’ve had people that I’ve smiled at and tried to encourage, but I’ve never actually had someone start and try to maintain a conversation. It was about this time that I became aware of how tired I was…and how hot it was. I could feel my mojo going out of me, and now this woman wants to talk? She told me about her 4 kids, and that this was her first  race and that she was a Crossfitter, and so she was naturally fit.  At one point, I powered past her, because I was aware I was slowing down and she was starting to annoy me. Once she was about 4 people behind, I heard her ask what the time was. 41:30. She answered, “Oh Good. 65 minutes is my goal” and she took off. There had been a group of us who had simply wound up running together keeping a pretty even pace at 10:36 per mile. She must have been recovering while she kept up with us. It was this point that I knew something was wrong. I wanted to pass this woman. I wanted to keep up with her and just bolt past her…but I couldn’t move. I mean, I kept running, but I was suddenly exhausted. Exhausted and hot.

I made it to mile 5 and tried to motivate myself. Only 1.2 to go and I could do it. But at the same time I couldn’t. I just wanted to stop and walk. I wished that I had my cellphone so I could call Simon to come get me. By now, I’d found a new mark. At the beginning of the race, there had been a rather loud gentleman who had passed me within the first mile. I didn’t think anything of it, because I’m not particularly fast, and people passing me tends to happen. But here he was again. When I saw him again, he was walking. He kept glancing behind him, I assume at me. My one rule at races is that I don’t turn around. I will try to make sure I that I don’t dart in front of people, but no, I don’t look around. He would run a little bit, and then stop. I would pass him only to hear him plodding along beside me. We rounded a corner together, and there was the finish line.

I was so tired. If lying down and taking a nap had been an option, I would have gladly have taken it, .21 miles from the finish line.

I looked down at my watch and it was 1:05. I knew my previous pr was 1:06. I didn’t see myself finishing in that time, let alone surviving it. I was on empty. I was hot, I was hungry and I was sleepy. I didn’t eat my clif bar during the race, simply because I was thirsty and didn’t want to stop to drink water and also eat the clif bar. So I’d kept running and was paying for it now.

When I finally decided to kick it, it was simply because, I needed to finish. I was hot, tired, thirsty and this guy was in front of me and I needed to pass him. I don’t know why, but I did. Even if it meant death, it had to be done. So I sped up. And then in the crowd of onlookers, I heard someone say “Yea, that’s it. Give it a kick.” Someone else said, “Finish strong.”

 

So I did.

In the time that I rounded the corner to the finish line, it took 40 seconds. I crossed the finish line, saw Simon and walked away from him. I practically ran to a fence at the side and just held on. I was pretty certain I was going to black out. Simon was there asking me questions, but I didn’t know how to tell him what I needed. I needed water poured on me. I needed to lay down. I wanted to drink all the water in the world. At some point  what I assume was a race official came over. I have no idea what he looked like, because that fence and I were besties. I would not let go. They eventually pried me lose, and sat me in the a tent where Simon took time to pour water on me, and feed me bananas. At one point I thought I was better enough to leave, only to almost fall over. About 30 minutes after I finished, we left the tent.

I was feeling better. After I left it hit me. Even with all the things that had gone wrong, I had managed to pull a PR. Despite all the times I had been at the top of my game, and not managed it, here it was. Take it or leave it. I’ll take it.

Even at this point, I was having issues walking, but Simon was a pretty good crutch. I swear, the wet spots are not me wetting myself, that is water.  Though I was hungry enough to eat, we decided to drive home instead. On the way home we talked about changing our race strategies. With how hot it has been, we definitely have to work more on hydration. Even though I felt like I was going to die, I don’t regret giving Simon my water before the race started. It was far to heavy. I need a hydration belt that’s lighter. Simon has a race next week. I’m excited to be on the other side of the fence

Vegan.

I’ve been dodging writing this post for a very long time. I’ve had about 3 or 4 false starts where I’ve simply closed my computer in frustration and walked away.  I didn’t realize that writing about what I’ve chosen to eat would be so difficult.

In August of last year, I took a business trip to Memphis and came back a vegetarian. That isn’t exactly correct, as even while I was in Memphis, I spent the last few days eating only salads, and forgoing meat all together. I came back and made it official, meaning I actually told people.  In the end, I didn’t go full tilt with it, I became a pescatarian. My reason was simple, I didn’t know what I was doing and needed some sort of transitional period. That lasted for a few months before I got sick about 5 times in a 3 month period. In the end it was my dad who pointed out that perhaps I was doing something wrong if I kept getting sick. This made sense, and I considered it and went back to the drawing board. I did some research and picked up a few books and began reading more. Within a week, I resolved to stop eating fish. I resolved that I would be a lacto-ovo vegetarian. Even then, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually had dairy. So, just ovo then?

I’d taken to buying cage-free eggs, because they made me feel better about how the chickens were treated. Then, I came across Vegan Main Street, and it changed everything. I didn’t read the book because I wanted to become a vegan. I read it actually because it was recommended for Vegans and Vegetarians. I was surprised at what I learned.  I won’t go into detail, but I stopped buying eggs. In my mind, I was still vegetarian, but eating with me became a chore. Simon and I would go out to eat, and I’d panic over the simplest  dishes. Waffles, soup, pancakes, they all became battlegrounds. I’d stare at the menu for what felt like hours before making my choice, only to wind up feeling guilty. There were eggs in that. Chickens are really mistreated….

In the end, it was he who said it first, one morning after I’d eaten a plate scrambled eggs and he saw the look. You are pretty much a vegan. I thought about and realized he was right. I haven’t had meat in a few weeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had dairy. Vegan, I knew was more than that, but it seemed like I was headed the right way on food. I found a few more books and began reading. The authors themselves were incredibly welcoming. No one expects you to be right all the time. You will mess up. Just go with it. No one can define your journey. 

People however, were not so much. I listened to speech upon speech from some not so close friends, who stopped short of calling me crazy. People, they said were meant to eat meat! Meat is delicious! And good for you! The cows will suffer if we didn’t milk/eat them.  Ok…well what if I don’t want to/think so?  My close friends, seemed to understand. One good friend, was very helpful in actually pointing out the things I couldn’t have before I myself thought of them. She did so without judgement, because she has other vegan friends. It’s hard, she said, and it will take time. But you can do it. It felt good to believe that someone else thought so too. Did I mention she is a non-vegan. An awesome one at that.

One thing I’ve learned so far, is that is possible. Vegan food is delicious! I’ve away on a trip for this week and have been eating at Whole Foods for most of the week since the food on their hot/cold food bar is clearly labeled. Needless to say, I have been far from hungry this week. In fact, I’m quite sure I’ve gained a few pounds. The rest of it is slowly coming to me. Being able to avoid certain products is harder that it sounds, but thank God for the internet. I was also disappointed to learn a few of my favorite products use animal testing. These I plan on replacing, but thus far, I feel good about my choices. So this is me…vegan.

For Boston

When I first heard about the tragedy in Boston. I was confused. It came up as a blurb on Yahoo News and though I tried reading it between calls, I didn’t quite understand. My co-worker saw it too, and we tried discussing it between the cubicles walls but the facts weren’t making the most sense. First, I didn’t fully understand that the Boston Marathon happens on a Monday rather than a Saturday or a Sunday like most of the races I’ve been to. We thought it was a late developing story that had happened over the weekend that Yahoo was just behind on. Even then, at first, I thought it was a malfunction. Something happened at the race; and something blew up…on accident.

As time moved forward, the Yahoo articles became longer and longer. More information showed up on my Facebook and twitter feed and all I could think of was…how can someone be so evil?

I am 27 years old, and this is not my first tragedy. I’ve been through Columbine, 9/11, Sandy Hook, VTech and NIU and countless others. There is something about not being at the site of the event that makes one feel safer. You feel for those going through it, but you are hidden behind a computer or a TV screen and your imagination cannot quite fathom what is happening there. Pictures, may convey 1000 words, but you aren’t there.

I was not there, but I am a runner. I know how it feels to set out with a goal and cross the finish line and just be amazed at what your body can do. I can’t imagine being robbed of that moment by someone’s completely selfish act. This morning I suited up and ran my 4.5 miles. I did not qualify for Boston, but I can run for them. I hope the catch whoever did this. It amazes me all the things that terrorist acts have ‘taken’ away from  me. I can’t fly without taking off my shoes first and being patted down. I can’t attend a college class without worrying about live shooters coming onto campus. Not even movie theaters or elementary schools are considered safe. I refuse to be afraid to run.

#runforboston

How you can help

Ramblin’ Run

After my disastrous 10K in the city, I was itching to do another race. I’d felt cheated out of a pr and was dang pissed about it. So when All Community events offered to give me money back, I jumped at it. As soon as the credit appeared on my credit card, I used it toward another race: Joliet’s Ramblin’ Run.

I had looked at this race before, but had disregarded it quite quickly because it was labeled “The Toughest race in the Midwest ” I like running, but I’m not really into additional obstacles while I  try to achieve a PR. But now, I was desperate for a race that going to be taking place in under a month (so I wouldn’t throw off my other races) and then one that was not in the city. After very little internal debate I signed up. The tough part of the race, according to the race would be Joliet’s many hills. I put my worries on it aside, because after all the Cupid Dash 10K had involved hills, that neither Simon nor I were aware of ahead of time. And we beasted that. It seemed like everyone I told about the race, seemed determined to remind me how tough the website said it was.  I shook them off. In the end, I promised myself I would do the best I could and damn the PR. Just finish. By race morning I was nervous, and was up 3o minutes for I needed to be.

I paced, used the bathroom a million times and then paced some more.  I checked the forecast and it predicted a 30% chance of snow. No big deal. As I finished my 9th round of pacing, it sounded like it started hailing outside. Well sort of…it was sleet. All of my worries were front and center. Could I run hills…covered in sleet?

My ride showed up and we tried not to mention the weather for about 5 minutes, but then it got worse.

 

*gulp*

I tried to be lighthearted about it.

 

 

 

Eventually, the snow/sleet stopped and we reached Joliet. As we drove into town, my heart sank. These hills were major! I’ve never been to Joliet before, so I had nothing to compare it to, but seeing them up close, made me a little sick.  After some stretching and warm ups, I made it to the start line. And we were off!

The first quarter mile was flat…and then we rounded a corner and hit a very steep incline. Of course, every one in front of me slowed down and I found myself getting angry. I powered around them, hit the grass and took that hill like I owned it. By the time I hit the top, I was very winded but I’d remembered a few people in the crowd earlier saying that once you got past that first hill the rest was gravy. I survived it and felt way better. The first mile ended way quicker than I was anticipating and was surprised to see that it took me about 10 minutes…even a few hills.  I drifted into my right lane, and jumped when some old guy started screaming me:

“DON”T COME OVER HERE!!!!”

For the record, I was not running him off the road. I just got a bit close and he did technically have enough room to also go right putting more distance between us. For some reason, his yelling, made me angry. I was at fault, sure, but now he was my mark. I stayed behind him for most of the race, never letting him get to far ahead of me, keeping my eyes out for his bald head, and his yellow running shows. He also had a really bad cough, so even with my headphones on, I could hear him behind me whenever I pulled ahead.

At about the half way mark, I had a wardrobe malfunction and realized…ahem…my girls were trying to escape my sports bra. I’ve never had this happen before, and this was one of my favorites, so I slowed down a bit to get everything re -situated.  At this point, I realized a familiar plastic bump was missing from my chest. My Activelink!

At first I tried to reassure myself, that it had simply dropped into my bra, and it was stuck. After a few minutes of rooting around (well as much as you can while running a race and refusing to stop), I realized this was not the case…it was gone. I was very sad and disappointed, but reminded myself that I had a race to finish. Plus that old guy was gaining on me.

We reached the final hill…well mountain, and I saw again that most people were stopping to walk. I looked down at my watch and knew then that I wouldn’t pr, we had a mile and a bit to go and I had to be able to do it it in 10 minutes. I realized it wouldn’t happen, but I was not going to let this hill beat me. I put my head down and just ran. I tried to keep my breath even and just kept going and going and going. I passed the old guy. I passed two kids who had been in front of me the whole race. I started shadow boxing at one point to keep my mind off the ache in my legs and lungs. Once got to the top, I took off. It was down hill and to the final stretch which was all flat. I could see the finish line in the distance. I looked down at watch and knew that I would miss my PR by at least 30 secounds. Shit.

But I kept going until I was ready and then hit my kick. I finished in 1:07:09. My previous record for the 10k 1:06:13. Sooooo close. I spotted my familiar face in the crowd and took his offerings of gatorade and water. After a few minutes I noticed people with beer and begged. Once I was able to get moving again, we went into the after party tent and  found the beer guy.

 

I wound up drinking half a beer and two cups of margaritas.

 

They were so good, but it was soooo cold. We wanted to stay for the awards, but decided to go for breakfast instead. We wound up at a place called Charlie’s Restaurant in Bolingbrook.

 

Breakfast was delicious!

Once I got home I showered and relaxed for a bit. I was surprised by the fact that I was not sore at all given all the hills. I really liked their race swag as well:

 

All in all, this race was not as bad as I had anticipated. A test? Sure, but I’m glad I passed it. And if all those hills only cost me one minute, it was well worth it. I know I’ll be back next year.

 

Shopping

Though I hit my goal weight last August, I have only recently gotten around to cleaning up my wardrobe. I’ve always hated shopping but only now have I gained a new appreciation for it. I’ve taken two bags of over-sized, ill fitting clothing to goodwill in the last few weeks and am working on my third. This week, I managed to score a day off work, and with a few jeans days coming up at my job, I realized I needed to purchase another pair. All of my current pairs of jeans, I had long before I lost weight– 15 lbs to be exact since I restarted in June, are a size 8. When I entered the department store, I made a beeline for the size 8s and picked out a few pairs. (Ok, it was a jagged beeline, because I stopped off at the dress first). I secured a changing room and got to work. One after another, I shot down all my choices. I went out and grabbed a new batch before I was willing to admit it to myself…

“…these are all too big.”

The last time I’d bought pants they were for work and I’d purchased them online at Old Navy. Old Navy’s clothes has always run a little weird size wise, so I didn’t give it too much thought when I had to have them altered. I moved on, and didn’t think about it, since all my other pants fit. I figured the issue was all Old Navy’s fault.

Standing in the dressing room though, I realized I needed to go down a size. Even then, I still didn’t want to admit it. I made my 3rd trip out to the racks, and selected one pair in a size 6, and then two more in a size 8, just a different style. The sixes fit, the eights were still too big. I gave in and grabbed a few more in a size 6. I tried moving around in them, and they were comfortable but I still felt suspicious. I wound up leaving the store with them, but I’m not sure how I feel about them. The issue with losing weight is that you never stop seeing yourself in a certain way. Though I’ve been getting compliments, I’m still me, and it’s hard to see what my jeans represent. I think this is part of the reason I held on to my old clothes, I didn’t realize they didn’t fit. It honestly had to be brought to my attention. Losing weight and hitting my goal weight seems tough, but the after is turning out to be a little trickier.

Easter

When I was a kid, Easter was a very big deal in my family. We are very religious and so Easter to us meant  getting new duds, and then getting up super early Sunday morning and going to sunrise services, then trudging home for a quick meal before going to 11 am services. It always seemed like there were more people there than there were any other Sunday. After services were over, and we were finished socializing, we would go home to the huge meal my mother had prepared for us and we would gorge ourselves…and pass out in front of the television. As I grew older, I came to understand Easter was less about the new clothes and seeing old friends as it was celebrating the life of Christ.

I remember one Easter in college, I refused to go home to my town and stayed on campus instead. I was being defiant and didn’t even go to church. I was miserable. Now that I live closer to my family, I’m sure if I missed Easter services they would track me down. I was proud of myself this year, however, for actually remembering that Easter was coming up in the first place. I called my mother Friday and asked what she wanted me to bring to the after church festivities. She laughed and said a “vegetarian friendly dish.” Every since I gave up meat, my family has been very accommodating. My mom makes sure that there are no meats in the sides (for some reason Southerners like putting meat in the veggies, go figure), but as for the main dish, I’m usually on my own. I told her this was fine, and made a mental note to put something together. Despite the fact that I’ve been near veg for almost 7 mos now, I don’t put together meals very often. I’m not a gourmet, I just eat to survive really.

Despite my mental note, I plumb forgot about the meal until 8 pm Saturday night. Crud. I consulted my wall of vegetarian cook books and after a while was able to find one that was simple and could be prepped in a matter of minutes. I had no desire to be up all night preparing food.

I found the recipe for noodles with creamy red sauce in here:

I’d found it in a book store when Simon and I were last in Iowa. I remember hesitating to buy it because I didn’t think I’d make anything from it, but it really saved my tush. I jumped in my car and sped off to Walmart to grab the ingredients. Big mistake. Seemed like everyone was Walmart that night. The line was out the door! For the first time since I”ve been going there, I actually heard them call for more cashiers. It is a super store, so they have about 19 lanes, but only about 4 are open on any given day. They moved this up to about 10 Saturday night, but it still took me forever to get out of there. Part of it was that I was having a hard time finding what I needed. This has been happening with Walmart more and more. I’ll run in thinking they have to have it, only to be sorely disappointed. Since I was there, I got all the snack items for my Sunday Children’s church as well. In the hour I was there, I found all my items except one, which meant I had to go across town to another grocery story to find it. How do you not carry silken tofu? They had 9 varieties of the firm and extra firm version, but not the one I was looking for. Crud. I was able to drive across town to a far less crowded Jewel and find what I needed.

Once home, I began to prep.

While it cooked, I put together a lamp for my room. It seems like I’ve been squinting for forever in there.

Charlie helped!

Within about 40 mins, the meal was done.

I sampled a bit and it was soo good!

On Easter morning, I got up early and made myself a big breakfast.

I realize this may  not be big for everyone, but for me, where I usually have a twinkie and a cup of coffee, it was a big one. I prepped my Easter outfit. I didn’t get a picture of the floor length look since I was running late, but here it is from the chest up.

It was a dress that should have fit the season, but for some reason it’s till freezing in IL so I spent most of the day hiding indoors and shivering any time I stepped foot outside. Dinner was delicious!

I most definitely had seconds. In the picture is asparagus, my noodles, a roll and West Indian potato salad. What makes it West Indian is the presence of peas, carrots and beets. My family also tried my noodle dish despite the fact that it was Vegan. My dad seemed really surprised. Maybe I can get them to convert? Even if I don’t, I love getting to spend time with my family. Their church is based in my town, so we usually split up after services. It was good to be able to sit with them and relax.

Revitalized

The next morning, I thought the mess that was the Chi Town 10k was over, but it turned out not quite. In the end, they didn’t throw out the race scores, but posted every one’s time listing them as unofficial. I know what official means…but still.

My 10K time turned out to be 1:11, which was slightly longer than I’d thought, but I remembered that originally I had not wanted to set a PR, just to finish. Their decision to post the race results also served to re-ignite my anger as I read through the race results. It was kind of clear that more  people than I thought bogarted the race, and simply picked a random point to turn around. What are my reasons for believing this? I don’t think a 39 year old man ran a 10K in less than 35 minutes and posted a 5:30 pace. It could be possible, but I don’t believe it.

I’m still torn between completely ignoring my 10k time completely and just going with my 7.7. I ran it, I earned it.

One good thing that came a s a result of the race is my love of racing has returned. But haven’t you been training for a half marathon all winter? Yes, I know, but with the bad weather and trying to schedule treadmill runs, running has turned into a pain in the rear. After the race on Sunday, all I wanted to do was find a replacement 10k. Then that turned into checking my race schedule again and filling in some holes.  I actually feel good about the races I want to do. After much thought I put a marathon back on the race schedule but put it for November. Now to get back to training. Winter has pretty much ruined 90% of my training plan. Also…

 

Source

Wanting to keep the running streak going, I took my normal rest day for Monday, and then was determined to follow the plan for today as well: 4 miles. This would be no problem. I had, after all just run 7 unexpected miles right? This was one of my worse runs on record. I started out and my first mile was 12:12. My legs felt heavy and my feet hurt. The 2nd mile was faster, but still not what I was expecting at 12:00 minutes even. At mile 2, I stopped the clock and messaged my friends. All I wanted to do was go home.  Rather than walking, I decided to just stretch for a few minutes. I restarted the clock and took off. The next two miles were amazing. I settled into a good grove and finished the third and fourth miles at 11:24 and 11:21 respectively. Not bad. I will love the day when I am in the sub 10 minute miles. One day, but not today.

While I was on my run, I determined it was time to give up on my running shoes. If you remember I bought these back in November, after my favorite pair of Reebok Reeflexes died. I settled on some Nike Flex trainers. They were snug at first, and I thought I just needed to break them in. The tongue is mounted to the side of the shoes, so it never did. Some days, it does not bother me at all. I have completed a lot of runs and even on my 10k, I did not experience at the time. The next day however, every part of me ached. One of my co workers suggested it was most likely because of my shoes. Then today, my arches were killing me (I have flat feet). I think it’s time to throw in the towel. I managed to get about 179.15 miles out of them, but I think it’s time to go back to Reebok Reeflex.

Let the shopping begin.

Chaos

aka, The reason Chi Town Half Marathon and 10k is giving me a refund.

This morning I was up at 5:30. I’d had the required, You-over-slept-and-missed-the-race dream, so when I woke up, I was ready. Because I am not too familiar with downtown Chicago and I didn’t want any additional stress with me trying to find the race location and parking, so opted for public transport. I arrived at the Metra at 6:15 and stood in the cold waiting for the train. My entire plan hinged on Metra being on time, and I was really worried since sometimes it isn’t until you get onto the train, that experience delays. Despite the fact the the train was about two minutes late, we arrived in Chicago exactly on time. I ran out hailed cab, and made it to the race location before 8 am.

This turned out to be the one flaw in my plan, as in the 15 minute period as I waited for them to get started, I turned into a popsicle. I knew once we got going I would warm up, but the wait seemed to take forever.

The race started at 8:15, and because I’d lined up right between the 11:00/mile and 10:00/mile people, it was stop and go until finally we took off. I started my Garmin, and settled in. I was hitting a really good pace, and was right behind the 10:40/mile people.

And then something happened.

We were running past a bunch of the volunteers, and all of a sudden, one of them darts out and says that we are supposed to be going through a turn about. “All 10kers! This way!” No one argued. The only way to tell the 10kers from the half marathon people was the color of our bib, which was on the front. There was no way to tell how many 10kers actually heard her but all the people she yelled out, we diverted. I initially didn’t realize anything was wrong, until we started darting around the sponsor’s van. I thought it was stupid that they parked on the race course, but no one stopped running, we just ran around them. After a few more minutes, I noticed there was a water station but people were stopped. My first thought was, Dammit we just started running. You don’t need water! Ya’ll are going to slow me down! (Because I when I talk to myself, I always use a Southern accent). There was a tall guy who appeared to be yelling something at the station, but I couldn’t hear him over Beyonce, and when he tried to corral me into the huddle of stopped people, I ducked under his arm and went around…until I saw the disappointment in everyone’s face. I took my headphones out.

“You all have been running in the wrong direction!” The Tall man said. “You were misdirected, and we need you to go back to the start so we can restart the race.”

Everyone was pissed. It was maybe about 25 of us, plus there were still people heading down that path. There were a ton of people behind me, who would be given the same message as soon as they reached them. The murmurs in the crowd were all the same.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

There was one guy behind me who still didn’t believe the news. “Keep going,” He told the woman beside him. “There is no way he can be right.” At the time we didn’t know that guy was the race director. This race is not new at all, and I think a lot of people thought he was some guy trying to sabotage the race…and there was no way, that a timed race could get that messed up.

So we kept running. We made it to the start line again and started the race over.

We made it back to that “turn around point” and the volunteers this time were completely silent. After a while, we passed the marker that said one mile. At that point my heart sank. I looked down at my watch and I had 2.5 already on my Garmin. The realization that I would have to run the entire 6.2 race still, despite my extra mileage sunk in, and I felt myself losing hope. It was not just me. People around me stopped running and started walking. Then after a while I passed a bunch of 10Kers. the way the route is set up, that shouldn’t happen, as it is not a loop for us. I realized that people were just giving up rather than continuing on the actual path. I was confused and tired. I kept taking my headphones out at the rest stop, hoping for news. I don’t know why but I hoped that they would figure it out so I wouldn’t have to the entire thing. Nope.

I did notice, that the crowds kept thinning out. The people that had been in front of me disappeared, and it felt like there were barely any 10kers behind me. During the run, I had some time and started to forget my anger, and just focused on the race in front of me. However, after I hit mile 4, I realized the race was headed back to the start. At one rest point, I could see the finish lines, but I quickly realized I was on the wrong side. We still had so much to go. I felt myself just get angry all over again. I got to the false turn around point and realized the confusion. We were only supposed to go off path on the 2nd pass, not the first. I’m not sure if it was not clearly explained to them or what, but they had just made a bunch of people upset and effectively ruined a race. I finally crossed the finish line at 1:32 minutes. Earlier during the run, I had calculated that I was more than 25 minutes off my race time. Five minutes for the fact that the clock began and it took me a bit to get the start line, and then an additional 20 for the race issues. That put my official finish time at 1:07 minutes for the 10k. I think. The issue is that I can’t trust it and this fact made me mad.

When crossed, I stopped my Garmin and took a picture.

I probably should have taken a picture of my face as well. Because I was livid. I grabbed some fuel and headed to the stage just in time to hear the 10k announcement. The race director first apologized and explained what we had for the most part had already figured out. He then advised that they would not be counting the race times. They would post our total distance so we could have that and that we would be getting a full refund as well as $10 off our next All Community Events race. I was mad at them, but at the same time felt bad for them. He kept insisting they shouldn’t and wouldn’t be blaming the volunteers, but I felt like that is where the blame lies. They (and really it was just that one chick since I don’t remember any of the others actually saying anything to me), effectively ruined a perfectly good race and now the race people had to eat it. I hopped a cab and went back to Union Station where I purchased breakfast and got on my train.

When I got home, there was an email from the race director explaining the issue again, and then offering the directions for getting my money back. I was glad they were being proactive about it and it really helped my anger. It doesn’t change the fact that I ran 7.7 this morning when I signed up for a 10k. I was really not sure what to do with my race shirt (I don’t wear them, but instead write my time inside of them and put them in the closet) or my bib.

In the end (after my two hour nap) I reasoned, I ran a distance and I will post that distance. Granted it’s not an official time, but I ran it. It’s mine. There were a few people who didn’t even get to do a 10k. I am glad they decided to offer us something toward our next race, since I’d been planning to do my Naperville Half with them again this year. They did it really well last year, and despite all that happened today, I trust them to do well again this year.

Running Nerves

As of Wednesday, I had the worst nerves about my race. It was my first day back to work after being sick, and I was starting to realize it would be a long way to recovery. Though it was just a common cold, I got sick on Thursday. I took Friday off, to try to prevent it from getting worse. Feeling at about 90%, I showed up for my St. Paddy’s day race on Saturday.

To be honest, it was a horrible day for a race. Cold, wet, threatening rain at any moment.

 

We decided very early on, that we would be walking this one, something I’ve never done for a race. My pride at first was a little wounded, but I knew it would be better than pushing myself.

Also, there were a lot of people there.

I suspect they were also in it for the green beer.

It was a pretty boring route, and we finished in under an hour.

Also we spotted men in kilts!

 

 

The beer was not really not that good. I hate that I have turned into a beer snob, but I was able to tell immediately that it was low quality beer. I think it wound up being Miller lite and MGD 64?

 

We like each other…I swear. We just went in opposite ways when the picture was taken. Unfortunately, walking the race did not stop my cold from getting worse. By Sunday morning, I was sneezing, my cough was at it’s worse, and my body was starting to ache. I ruled out the flu. (Thank you webmd.com). I got some cold medicine, and tried to soldier through my Sunday class. I imagined that right after church, I would go home and sleep until Monday morning.

And then my parents asked me to babysit.

By the time they made it back, I was barely holding on. I went in to work on Monday. Bad choice.

Tuesday, I took off because I felt like I was dying. It was only a cold, but it felt like it was never ending. It was at this point, I realized that I would not be training lest I get sicker. Today I traveled out to the city to pick up my bib.

 

Having it in my hand made it all the more real. This is also my first solo race in a very long time. No spectators, no driver. Just me and this race…in downtown Chicago. I really do not know Chicago that well…except for the Loop and Navy Pier. Having every thing just brought it home for me.  I’m freaked out, but honestly, the goal is to finish. I realize my last 10K, set  an amazing PR. I won’t let this intimidate me. I am not at 100%. I just want to show up…and come home and sleep.

 

Sick…Again

Houston, we have a problem.

As of  Wednesday, I am sick for perhaps the sixth time in the about 5 months.

I was at work and started to feel like my lungs were itchy. Yes, you read that correctly. I couldn’t explain it any other way, and after explaining it to my friends, they came up with this theory: Tree grows in man’s lung. 

I mainly ignored it, but when I woke up Thursday morning and tried to take a breath, I had a deep soul rattling cough. I really should have stayed home from work, but went in anyway. I felt like I was breathing under water. I take phone calls all day, so a lot of my calls went along the lines of:

Thank you for calling…..*gasp*…X…….. How can…..*gasp gasp*…I help…..you?

Or I was barely audible at all as the louder I got, the more I coughed. By the end of the day I started to feel better. I left for work and met up with a friend for coffee at a Starbucks. On the way there, my body was wracked with aches. I didn’t understand what was going on, so ignored it, but in hindsight I should have canceled. It made for a very uncomfortable meeting as I kept trying to switch positions and sipping at my tea to try to soothe my throat. Once we split up I was too anxious to get home. I hate taking the highway, I took back roads which just took longer. I felt like crying every time I hit a stop light. By the time I made it home, all I wanted was to fall asleep. I popped two Aleve and went to bed.

On Friday, I took my personal experience and decided to stay home and just get better.

This new round of sickness just made me think about how many times I’ve been sick in the last few  months. My dad has this weird theory that it has something to do with my lack of meat consumption.  I do not entirely agree with this. However, the illness did start after I stopped eating meat, so I must be doing something wrong in my diet approach. This might be time to regroup and take a look at everything…but after I feel better.

Tomorrow I have a 5 k. Needless to say there will be no running of any kind.