Three Rivers Trail Half Marathon Race Recap, with Loosely Related Gifs

My goals for the half marathon I ran over the weekend, in descending importance:

1. Not have an asthma attack.
2. Treat it as something I get to do, not have to do, because for crying out loud that is what it is.
3. Run a smart race; specifically, not get caught up in the energy at the start line and go out too fast, fuel appropriately throughout, do frequent checks on my form to keep myself light and upright.  
4. Do my best in whatever circumstances I find myself in Saturday morning.
5. Beat my previous half marathon time.
6. Finish somewhere around the two hour mark.
7. *Secret stretch goal* Finish under two hours.

Let's break it down.

The list, I mean.  Although if it's hammer time and you want to break it down, I say do it.

1.  Remember two years ago when I had an awful asthma attack around miles 4 through 7 of my first half mary and it slowed me waaaaay down and I wanted to die and the whole running+asthma thing wore me out so badly I got home, went straight to bed, and slept like the dead for two hours?

I do.  I remember that.

Asthma isn't something that's easily controllable in the moment; I mean, that's kind of the nature of the beast.  There are things I can do to set myself up for asthma success (or... something), however, like doing my best to remain calm, taking my allergy meds, and keeping my inhaler with me.  Allergy pill an hour pre-race: check; inhaler in my fuel pouch thingy: check; remaining calm: well, that one's more or less on Mindy, my amazing friend who informed me a week ago she would be accompanying me to my race, even though it meant getting up before 5 AM and dedicating the bulk of her Saturday to an event she wasn't even participating in.  Having her to talk to in the car for the hour and a half drive there kept me calmer than anything, as it prevented me from dwelling in a pit of race anxiety and despair.

2.  Between various small injuries and an autumn jam-packed with change (all three kids in school, going from staying at home for ten years to two part-time jobs, etc, etc) and just being plain tired, I was feeling pretty burnt out on running.  I still loved it, but I was feeling more resentment than excitement over this stupid meany race I'd signed up for many moons ago.  This is ridiculous because NO ONE WAS MAKING ME DO THIS.  This one basically involved remembering gratitude and keeping the following in mind:

3.  I was in the middle of the pack at the starting line, and as soon as the gun went off (aka the app blared on the race director's phone, as this was a pretty small race), I was passed by a large number of the people running for the first half mile or so.  The following three miles, I stayed in the same position relative to all the other runners, then spent the remaining ten miles slowly passing most of those people who went out way too fast at the start.  This was exactly what I wanted to do, so hallelujah and pass the peaches.

My fueling was perfect thanks in large part to the race fuel fairy/ my friend Anne, who surprised me by dropping off a baggie of goodies at my front door last week.  Included was a packet of Huma gel, and as I discovered at mile 6 Saturday morning, this is my new favorite running gel.  I've tried GU, and it's fine, I've tried Clif gel, and the caffeine in it makes my stomach cramp, I've tried gummy bears, and while those work for me on my training runs, I've discovered I am unable to chew and run with any speed at the same time [insert walking and chewing gum joke here].  SO if you are a runner or endurance athlete-type person with a gut that is such a diva you've considered naming it after one of the Kardashians, I (and Anne the Wonder Triathlete!) recommend Huma.  Also of note is that the consistency of Huma is considerably less nasty than that of GU, at least to my palate.



4.  Stomach, weather, whatever, I wanted to make the best of whatever circumstances happened to occur Saturday morning, all toward that same goal of not being a miserable cow.  It's a good goal.



5 & 6.  My previous half marathon PR (personal record, rubes) wasn't great, due to the asthma and it being my first race, thus having no earthly idea what I was doing.  My primary goal in that race was to finish.  Fine, mission accomplished.  Anytime someone asked what time I was aiming for (as people are wont to do, I have found), my answer was around two hours.  I felt these were reasonable goals and well within my abilities.



7.  The goal I felt I could only accomplish if circumstances lined up and I had a great day was to finish in less than two hours.  Still within reach, but not if my stomach was acting up or it was raining or windy or the course was unexpectedly hilly or treacherous or strewn with hinkypunks.  I averaged a pace a bit under nine minutes per mile and finished comfortably under two hours, beating my previous time by 26 minutes.  This is a slow pace to many runners, but not this one. All this meant the first several miles felt great, the middle few miles still felt pretty good, and the final few felt hard up to the end, where believe me, I was toast.  But mentally, I was doing this:

Matter of fact, I still can't do that because HOLY HAMSTRINGS.  SO SORE.  Also I am not M.C. Hammer.  M.C. Hammerstrings?




Big fat juicy thanks to Derek for never ever ever complaining when I want/need to go for a run- even the multiple-hour ones that take up so much of our Saturday mornings;

to my mom for watching over our chitlins race morning and going above and beyond the call of duty by taking them to IHOP for breakfast, then shoe shopping, then walking on a nature trail, then introducing them to the wonders of Miracle on 34th Street when I made it perfectly clear she was welcome to just park them in front of the tv whilst I was running and Derek and Mark were golfing,

to Mindy for getting up hours before sunrise to distract me from my own horrible brain and being on the course at mile 3 to take my various layers I was suddenly too hot for and throwing at her feet, then at mile 12-point-something to take my phone because it was suddenly too heavy to carry anymore, then cheering and yelling me across the finish line, along with innumerable pep talks and being a darn good friend,

to Anne for the race treats and encouraging texts mid-race and always being willing to accept with good humor the unflattering selfies I take mid-run, along with innumerable pep talks and being a darn good friend,

to Derek's mom Becky for giving up her Saturday morning to drive up to the race and cheer me on, even though it wasn't the kind of course that easily allows for spectators and it took quite a bit of effort on her part for just a few seconds of "Hi, Kristy!" that nonetheless were encouraging to me,

to all the other people I'm forgetting because I'm a terrible person, and to you, because how on earth are you still reading this?,

and

to chocolate chunk brownies, forever and ever, amen.

All right, so these clearly aren't chocolate chunk brownies, but this *is* a gif that apparently has a subliminal image of historically-inaccurate white-skinned, blue-eyed Jesus.  HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO RESIST?

Four Things

I haven't done a list post in a long time, have I?  And it's perfect for the discombobulated state of my brain today!

• Despite the whole toe situation (broken?  dislocated?  Whatever, it still hurts, although not as badly, and continues to appear a bit misshapen), I managed to run in last weekend's 10k, and did it fast enough to get second in my age group, which netted me a medal and guilt-free eating of our kids' candy they got from the parade we watched later that morning.  One of the best parts of the morning was my friends not only showing up at the beginning of the race to cheer me on, but also veering over to Mindy's driveway- which is on the race route- to holler encouraging things, complete with inspiring and hilarious poster- when I had one last grueling mile left, then they darted to the end to be there as I crossed the finish line/mat/thing.  It was a day that turned out pretty great, which I did not expect given the fact that I couldn't fit my injured foot into two different pairs of shoes when getting ready for the race, and instead had to opt for my least favorite pair that makes me feel like my feet are slapping the ground but boasts a pretty wide toe box.  The day was capped off by Caedmon demonstrating he still likes to hold my hand when we're on the couch together.

Yikes- anyone else bothered by poor posture?  I just wanna crank his neck and shoulders into proper form.  Gently, of course; he is still the one kid who will run into my arms after school.  Atticus still wants a hug but he saunters toward me, no doubt ever aware of watching kids still on the bus (seriously, the stories Adelaide tells of the attention that kid gets... I'm always like, "I don't know what to do with this information,") or daughter, who lets me know she wants post-school affection by staggering and then falling onto me.  They're subtle, these children of ours.

• Our elder two children have begun mowing.  It is awesome.

Now I can do just enough mowing to get my fix- because I really do enjoy it- then when I get tired tell our kids it's time to build character and contribute to the household and stuff.  

• I haven't read Fannie Flagg in quite some time, but after recently reading The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion, I'm wondering why that is.

Fannie Flagg has this strange and wonderful ability to take a story that's full of pretty serious stuff but make it entertaining and lovely.  It's tough trying to recommend it to other people, because you inevitably end up saying something like, "Oh, it's so good, about this daughter and her elderly mother who's actually pretty awful and their not-so-great relationship and how all these women were pilots in World War II but got, like, no credit for it, and this filling station that, well, actually had to close... but no, I'm not saying it right!  Somehow it's not depressing or dark or anything, you won't want to put it down, and you'll love the characters, and- DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!"

So, yeah.  You should read it.

• Adelaide bought some face paint a couple weeks ago, and has painted her own and her brothers' faces multiple times since.

I like that this is something creative that they can all do together, and that they somehow don't fight during their fairly long painting sessions.  What I don't like is when Adelaide paints her face for the fifth or sixth time, washes it off a couple hours after application, before bedtime, and wakes up the next morning with a swollen, itchy, rash-covered face.  

Her eyes were the worst.  I checked with her before posting this photo, too, and she okayed it.

She insisted on going to school, as they were socializing guinea pigs in one of her classes, and no paltry allergic reaction (on her face) was going to come between her and holding small, furry animals.  She made it two and a half hours before the school nurse called, asking that I come get our daughter.  First full week of school and we already had a kid taking a sick day.  I have a feeling it's going to be a banner year.

Living History Farms Race

A week ago a couple friends of mine convinced me that running seven miles through cornfields and creeks and the woods in November in Iowa was a good idea, especially when it's with a few thousand of your closest friends.  After a little encouragement from Derek- he's great at convincing me I can do hard things when I'm waffling- I signed up for the Living History Farms race.

Then the weather forecast went to crap.

I spent much of the four days before the race harassing my friends about what to wear and obsessively checking the weather.  The only thing the forecasters could agree on was that yes, snow was coming, possibly a lot, and yes, the temperature would drop and the wind would begin to gust Saturday morning.  You know, perfect conditions for a cross-country race.

Then came the emails.

Poor Race Director Steve.  I feel like this would be a stressful race to oversee, being where it is and when it is every year.  Yes, you hope people are going to be smart about running in cold weather, but, you know, these are people we're talking about, so instead you have to send out all these increasingly panicky-sounding emails that say things like, "You need to make a decision based on your own personal safety," and "We have 30 medical and emergency personnel and they are prepared," and "PLAY SAFE.  IT'S NOT WORTH IT."

Now, because I have never run this race before, and I can be a bit of a pansy about the cold, all of this made me just the tiniest bit nervous.  Especially when this started happening Friday afternoon:

And then this is what I walked through Friday night:

And because this was the first snowfall of the season all the news outlets wet themselves in excitement and engaged in what seemed to be a strange game of one-upsmanship, where one person would predict 3-5 inches, prompting the next to say, "Oh, yeah?  I say 4 to 6 INCHES!" and ended with a top prediction of somewhere around ten inches.  

Still, I consoled myself with the fact that the snowfall was supposed to end Friday night sometime, and yes, the temperature was supposed to bottom out somewhere around 14 degrees right as the race was beginning at 9 am on Saturday, and yes, there was a frigid wind expected to be blowing right around then, too, and YES, Poor Steve was sending out even more frightful emails that said, "Don't where [sic] cotton!! Old fashioned sweat pants & shirts are cotton.  You will freeze!" and "There is nowhere warm for all of you.  Stay close to your vehicles until 8:45."  But despite all that, I was being led to the slaughter through the experience by my two loving and experienced running friends who have run this race several times before and were able to say, "Wear this instead of that, here's how to keep your toes from falling off, and tell you what, I'll just bring all kinds of extra gear for you to use."  

In the end, Poor Steve cut almost two miles off the course and eliminated most of the creek crossings for safety's sake, but it was twenty whole degrees above zero when we started, there were only around four inches of snow on the ground, and the only thing that got really wet was my feet.  

I'm the second fool from the left.

I also collected a number of brand-new experiences, such as sitting on frozen port-a-potty seats (the word of the day was "BRACING!") watching a few runners who thought it would be a kick to run in either a variety of costumes (turkeys, pilgrims, Elvis, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, scarecrows, elderly people toting walkers, oxygen tanks, and cigarettes) or almost naked, and, best of all, starting the winter running season by normalizing running in the cold and on ice and snow. 

The post-race beef stew was hot, the doughnuts were not frozen (as they apparently have been in years past), and my thirty-degree run today felt positively balmy.  Worth it.