Folly or Feasible?

I ran yesterday, for the first time in two weeks. I was surprisingly excited to be going out.

Let me repeat that: I, KBT, was actually looking forward to going for a run.

It was around 70 degrees, which I’m used to, but very low humidity, which I’m not, so I really didn’t want to waste such a gorgeous day. I had no plans when I left, unsure even which direction I’d go. Given that it was around 10 am, that ruled out running along the main road — though that’s a long flat stretch I like — because there was just too much chance of being seen by too many people I know on their way to Mass. Neighborhood roads, just to stay safe.

I walked half a mile for my warm-up, then started the run. Normally it takes me the better part of a mile to settle into a rhythm (one reason I’ll never be a big fan of the 5K), but I hit my stride almost immediately. Unfortunately, my stride was ungodly painful … let’s all give a warm welcome to the Inside of My Right Knee. Clearly, he’d heard how much fun Mr. Back of My Right Knee was having and decided to join the party. Except the Back rarely interferes while I’m running, whereas the Side was making a grand entrance.

I thought about stopping, wondered if I probably shouldn’t, since the pain was making me run even funnier than normal in an attempt to find a foot position that didn’t make it hurt. After a couple of minutes, though, it mostly subsided. When it flared up again a bit later I realized it was from going downhill, which is how my run had started. Fortunately (or unfortunately, as I tend to think of it) there was no more downhill, so mostly no more pain.

I thought both my lungs and my legs were holding up fairly well, considering how long it had been. My major fear had been a return to agony of Week 1 proportions.

My Garmin beeped, and I made the mistake of looking at it to see why. I’m pretty sure the why is because I set it that way before the US 10K Classic and haven’t really used it much since. And why I looked is because that’s a natural reaction to something beeping on your arm when you’re not expecting it. The problem with this? I discovered I had run a mile at 12:32 mm.

Well, that was the end of that. The mind wins out yet again. There may well be ruts in the pavement from me screeching to halt. Twelve-thirty-two is fast for me. Yes, I was whining to myself the whole way, but that’s just par for the course. I had just crested a slope and was cruising into a long flat stretch that should have been no real problem. And I expected to be running it.

Until I looked.

Note to self: never look.

And then I walked. I did have a brief attempt to start running again. That lasted all of one minute.

The time on the couch showed during those last 10 minutes as I trudged along toward home. I was truly worn out by then. I reminded myself, though, that last time I felt like this I had 3.5 miles left in the Peachtree — and the rest of a big hill — as opposed to a fairly flat stroll for just half a mile. Even walking it would all be over relatively soon.

After which it was back on the couch.

I love Amazon. I especially love free shipping on orders over $25. The problem comes, of course, when I  don’t have $25 worth of stuff. Buy more stuff to reach $25 or pay the shipping? I know which one Amazon wants me to do. And usually there are things I’ve put off buying or gifts to be tucked away that I can add in order to cross the magical twenty-five dollar threshold.

But the other day when I was ordering something I’d promised Kitty, my youngest, I just couldn’t find a single thing I “needed” enough to add to the order. Not generally a problem; I must just not have been in the mood to spend money. But it seemed silly to pay the shipping when I only needed ten more dollars and shipping was going to be five.

And then I remembered. Something I’d suggested to my kids as a birthday gift but not received — a subscription to Runner’s World magazine. Twelve dollars a year … eligible for free shipping … problem solved.

And with just a small dose of Mommy-guilt, I’m betting I can get the kids to pony up the twelve bucks, too. Bonus.

Friday was my nuclear stress test. Thursday night, I got a text message from my friend and co-worker Cordelia.

I’m at St. Joe’s. I was having chest pains. They’re keeping me overnight and doing a stress test in the morning.

Hmmmm, sounds familiar. Co-worker. Are we seeing a pattern?

First on the agenda Friday was an echocardiogram. Following that I went across the hall to radiology where Steve explained the procedure and inserted an IV port through which to inject the radioactive isotope. Not two minutes in the room I hear a voice from behind a curtain.

Is that you KBT?
Yes, Cordelia. Just had to one-up me, didn’t you? Overnight stay, hmph.

It took a bit of work convincing the technicians that yes, we really did know each other and no, our concurrent visits weren’t planned. But could we get a group discount? (No.)

We chatted until it was her turn to get on the treadmill and I was being taken to a machine where, it was explained, I would need to lie still and be quiet for 12 minutes.

“Good luck with that,” Cordelia informed them.
”Don’t let her keel over on that thing,” I responded. “She’s older than I am, you know.”

Pictures done, it was time for me to move to the treadmill. I’ve discovered that no matter how much they try to preserve your modesty, cardio work is right up there with mammograms for being hands-on. Finally, I was hooked up to all the necessary monitors, my baseline blood pressure was taken (98/67) and Joey —who may well have a future in the bra-fitting industry, if this technician thing doesn’t work out — told me that the target heart rate for the day was 156.

Pfffft. I know my heart-rate monitor isn’t reliable, but that’s not only doable, it’s easier than a lot of portions of a lot of my runs. Considering how little I’ve run lately (that would be “none”), it shouldn’t take all that long to hit that, now should it?

Joey started the treadmill at a perfectly reasonable pace … and at an insanely unreasonable incline. Okay, it could have been a .00000002% incline and I would hate it, but really, I have to go uphill? I hate hills. Doesn’t he read my blog?

I’m not a fan of hills. Why isn’t my heart-rate going up faster? How long do I have to do this? Are we done yet?

Why did that turn red? Yes, I’m doing fine. Yes, it’s fine if you turn it up.

You do know I don’t like hills, right? Why can’t I just go faster on the flat? And if you’re making me walk uphill, why does that picture on the wall in front of me show the road going downhill. You said pretend I’m walking along that road, but that road clearly goes downhill and I am walking uphill.

I’m starting to sweat and I’m really not a fan of that.

Yes, I know I’m a whiner. What’s your point?

If you don’t hurry up and finish taking my BP you’re going to miss the target and not get that injection done on time. Well, yes it does matter because then I’ll just have to be on here longer.

Okay, 156, how much longer? Are we done yet? I am getting graham crackers after this, right?

The fastest pace the treadmill adjusted to, right before I hit my target, was 4.2 mph, or about a 14:30 minute mile. Too fast to be walking comfortably but too slow, really to start running on the treadmill, all wired up as I was. Add to that the incline, and during that last minute I was holding on tight to the handrail to be sure I didn’t go off the back.

At one point Joey referred to the fact that Juliette, the PA from the cardio group, was supervising my testing. Because she was at the counter going over something on the computer screen with her back to me for duration of the test, I joked that Juliette was over there playing solitaire, not supervising.

“If you’d quit talking I’d have turned around, but I was pretty sure you hadn’t collapsed.”

Fair enough.

Finally I got to get out of the gown and put on my own clothes. I did get my promised graham crackers, and about 15 minutes later went back to the be-quiet machine for my last round of pictures.

I don’t think the 9+ minutes I spent walking even burned off the calories from those graham crackers, but by golly I recorded it in my exercise log.

Cordelia had been taken back to her room while I was on the treadmill, so I stopped up to see her on my way out. She was stuck there until the results came back; I, at least, got to go home and hang out on my own couch, enjoying my first caffeine of the day.

Apparently, being in-house gets you your results faster; I knew how her tests had gone at least two hours before they called with my update. The echo hadn’t been read, but everything looked just fine, dandy, and normal on the stress test photos and data.

So anyone who had congestive heart failure in the “What’s KBT’s Problem (Health-wise, That Is) Pool” is now out.

Today I went for a walk.

No, not on a treadmill at the heart center of the hospital; my stress test got moved to Friday. (Is it tacky that I’m glad it got moved to Friday once I found out schools were cancelled today and I have an unexpected free day?) I went for a walk outside.

Sounds nice, ‘til you factor in that I took the dog. Obnoxious, ill-trained snot that he is.

I could have left him home, but he’s so darn hopeful each and every time that I leave the house, thinking maybe this will be the time he gets to go. Yet it never is. I guess the joy of a virtual snow day got to me, and having him along did make it impossible to “just see how much lungs/legs hold up on a short little jog”, so I guess he has his uses. Obnoxious, ill-trained snot though he may be.

I am so sick of laying around. Sick of icing this injury and certainly sick of worrying whether or not I’ll keel over with the slightest exertion. I wanted to do something positive for a change. Even if it was to positively determine that yes, indeed, I would keel over.

So I walked. It’s the first time I’ve been active in ten days, and it felt great to be out. It also gave me a chance to try out my new shoes and the waist pack I bought with my birthday gift certificate from my husband.

(I had to lace the shoes a little tighter, since they are larger, and I didn’t notice any significant bounce in the waist pack. Consider that full disclosure.)

The dog and I meandered 1.5 miles in 27 minutes, or 17.39 min/mile.

Of course, that pace includes stops to sniff, stops to sit as other four-legged creatures (which he acts like he’s never seen before) pass, stops to poop (him, not me), stops to pick up poop (me, not him), and stops to untangle the leash from my legs. Based on glances at my Garmin, I’d say the actual walking portions were around 15 mm.

I did wear my heart-rate monitor for the first time in several sessions. I’m not sure why; I guess so that if I did keel over, the medics would know exactly what my heart rate had been at the time. Good thing it didn’t happen, because, as usual, it’s unreliable as hell. Yes, I was meandering, and yes, it is possible that my max heart-rate was 107, but I seriously doubt that it was 37 at any point during the walk, much less multiple times. It may be impressive, but it ain’t that impressive.

Even though it wasn’t particularly strenuous (and I’m not short-changing the fact that 10 weeks ago even a meandering one-and-a-half miles would have been daunting and exhausting), I’m glad to see a workout on the noted on the calendar again. The streak of blank days was getting entirely too long.

I plan to do it again tomorrow.

Without the dog.

It’s been a long week. It’s been a busy week, a tiring week, a stressful week.

The good news is that, after my visit to the doctor on Tuesday, I woke up Wednesday not wishing my head would just explode and get it over with.

The bad news is that all day Thursday I felt like crap. Friday “crap” officially turned into chest pressure, some twinge-y pain, shortness of breath and nausea. I had my husband take me over to the hospital, where I spent five hours finding out that I probably wasn’t going to die that day (I didn’t), but they aren’t quite ready to label me a hypochondriac (I don’t think I am), either. I get to go back on Tuesday for a nuclear stress test to see what might or might not be the problem.

The highlight of my visit was when my nurse was unhooking all my monitors when I’d finally been cleared to leave, and he said one of the other nurses kept telling him he needed to check on me because my heart rate monitor was dinging. He said, “That’s a low number. Do you jog or exercise?”

Why yes, yes I do.

So, this stress test. Running. Fast. Hopefully my knee will not resent me too much for it after. I still am very aware of the back of my right knee, despite a regular rotation of ice packs, so clearly 10 days hasn’t been enough rest to make it happy. Ugh.

On top of which, I was looking up the side effects of my medications. I’m on Avelox for the sinus infection and Prednisolone for … well, not exactly sure, but I gather with the on-going nature of my cough she wanted to heavy-duty it up a bit.

And what is the interaction between Avelox and Prednisolone? According to drugs.com:

Concomitant administration of corticosteroids may potentiate the risk of tendinitis and tendon rupture associated with fluoroquinolone treatment. The mechanism is unknown. Tendinitis and tendon rupture have most frequently involved the Achilles tendon, although cases involving the rotator cuff (the shoulder), the hand, the biceps, and the thumb have also been reported. Some have required surgical repair or resulted in prolonged disability. Tendon rupture can occur during or up to several months after completion of fluoroquinolone therapy.

So I’m nursing an injury. I have to go run fast on a treadmill after doing nothing for almost two weeks. And I’m on a drug combo that has a “major interaction” that could cause me to rupture tendons.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh.

I finally got sick and tired of being sick and tired. My cold went away last week, only to come back full-force on Sunday to settle firmly in my sinuses, and even I was sick of hearing me hack, so I went to the doctor. I’m now on antibiotics (again) with a side of steroids. I woke up feeling far better than when I went to bed and I’ve hardly coughed all day. Add a bunch of caffeine on top of the prednisone and I’m quite wired right about now.

Unfortunately, working off the energy isn’t really an option because my on-and-off hamstring problem is officially on. It’s ON, baby.

Based on a little research, I’m pretty sure it’s hamstring tendonitis. And how does one treat hamstring tendonitis?

The goal of hamstring tendonitis treatment is to allow the joint to heal naturally. In most cases you can fully treat the condition without the need to see your doctor. Rest is the key. You need to allow 4-6 weeks rest before you put the knee under any pressure at all. This means no running or any other physical activities that may cause unneeded stress.

Four to six weeks?!?! I might as well start loading up those Week 1 podcasts now.

I spend the better portion of every evening on ice, but I mean, really, when stooping slightly to scoop out food for the dog makes it twinge and then remind me of its existence for the next hour? It doesn’t seem to be improving.

I actually wish I could be out there running. Which is odd, considering that I never feel that when I’m actually out there running.

But if I could be running, now that C25K is over, what would I be doing? Hell if I know.

I had it all laid out perfectly. C25K ended just prior to Labor Day and the US10K. A few rest days after that and I’d launch into Hal Higdon’s half marathon training plan for novices. That is a 12-week plan which would have ended just in time for a few days’ rest before the Charlotte Thunder Road Half Marathon. I even have all the training days laid out in Excel. Surely nothing is going to mess with an excel spreadsheet, right?

Uh-huh.

Despite my very linear progression through C25K, I’m completely off track now. And completely frustrated by it.

You were my constant companion throughout my C25K program.

You never tagged along for the run, but were always there waiting when I got home. Now I open the door, expecting to see you inside, then remember that I had to let you go.

You were consistent, making me feel better no matter how hard the run had been.
You were supportive, curled around me on as I lay on the couch after.
You were patient, staying put as long as I asked.

But it was your time. You were getting worn out, not in the same shape you’d been in your earlier days. Witnessing your deterioration didn’t make it any easier, though.

So I just want to take a moment to say thank you for being there for me. There will be others after you, but you were here at the beginning and will always hold a special place in my heart.

Rest in peace, Kroger frozen peas.

Forty-two, for the record.

I went to my favorite local running store, Big Peach Running Co., and bought myself a new pair of running shoes to celebrate.

I really went to get new socks (since all mine seem to end up my son W-P’s drawer. Considering that they say Zulu across the toe, it seems like a distinction he ought be be able to make, but apparently not so much…), but while I was there I figured I might as well start thinking about new shoes. Not that mine are particularly high mileage, but it seems a decent reward for finishing C25K.

It had been so long since I’d bought my current pair that I had no idea if I’m a pronator (does that sound vaguely dirty to anyone but me?) and, if so, in which direction.

“Do you have any trouble running on a treadmill for 20 seconds?” the sales person asked me.
”Physically, no. In front of all these people? Probably.”

Turns out it wasn’t the other patrons I needed to worry about; it was that big-ass (no pun intended) video screen broadcasting me from the backside down. Like the view isn’t bad enough in person, you have to show it on a 52” screen? My motto throughout C25K has been ignorance is bliss and let me tell you … I could have gone for, well, ever without knowing what it actually looks like to see me running from behind.

They say the camera adds 10 pounds. To quote Chandler from Friends: How many cameras were on you?

So now I know — replay after excruciating slow-mo replay — that I’m an over-pronator. And that I have a really goofy gait, on top of it. She brought out several different brands in my size, which, it turns out, is a 12 in running shoes. Clown feet, people. All have the support I need to compensate for the over-pronation … probably not going to do much for the goofy gait, though.

I settled on a pair of Asics GT-2140 with Berry accents. Actually Berry was what she brought, and it didn’t occur to me to ask if they came in other colors. They were comfortable and felt lighter than my current shoes, which I thought were also Asics. You’d think I’d know for sure, since I spend a good portion of every run staring down at them.

In addition to my socks and shoes, I bought myself an Amphipod reflective Xinglet. Not the most exciting purchase, but soon to be necessary, no doubt.

When I got home I grabbed my old shoes to compare. Clearly I’m a creature of habit … not only are they Asics, they’re GT-2100’s. But they’re blue, so you can see why I didn’t recognize what I was buying.

Just out of curiosity, I weighed one of each pair.

Old shoes: 12 oz
New shoes: 12 1/2 oz.

A creature of habit and no judge of shoe weight, apparently.

Today is Elle K’s birthday. 

Elle K is the friend crazy (sweet? gullible? stupid?) enough to have signed on to do the Disney Princess half marathon with me in March. The friend who may or may not be regretting it just yet.

Despite Disney’s e-mail offer to let me buy a pink “Princess in Training” running skirt for $40, I thought I’d get her something a little lower key.

The card was easy; anything referencing going out for drinks — one of our favorite pastimes — would do. Cheap token friend gifts are harder to come by in the grocery store at 7 am, though. (That’s a token gift, not something for a token friend, by the way...)

Then I stumbled on the perfect thing: the Snickers Marathon protein bar.

My all-time favorite candy bar masquerading as health food? Who knew?

And at $2.19 it was a bargain, as token friend gifts go.

For accuracy’s sake I did need to alter it a bit. We are, after all, only doing a half marathon. The packaging made it tough but it was White-Out to the rescue. Well, technically, “buff out”, since I use it on manila file folders. White would have coordinated better, but you work with what you have.

And if I’d had a white out pen that would have been better still.

Not shockingly, it came out looking pretty much like the picture. Illegible. But we have the same odd sense of humor and I knew she’d get it.

I got an email from her this morning: Eating my snickers "protein" bar for breakfast — this is not right. There's no way it is remotely good for you or really anything other than a candy bar. I'm lovin' it!

Me: Sounds like I'm gonna need to stock up on those. All in the name of training, you understand...

Elle K: The sacrifices I make to maintain this shape! Eating protein bars... really... Speaking of — I'm scheduled for a check up on Monday — what timing. Guess he can tell me whether my training plan will kill me...

There are certainly times when I feel like this running thing will kill me, but now that I know I get to eat Snickers and call it part of my training? I’m all in.

So, after all the angst about the race, how did I do?

Goal #1: Finish.
I finished. Got the t-shrit and hat to prove it. Chalk one up for me.

Goal #2: Run 30 minutes continuously.
Didn’t happen. My longest continuous run was 28.44.

Goal #3: Run at least 3.1 miles total during the race.
This one I managed. (Because I was smart enough to not commit to 3.1 continuous miles…) I ran 4.91 miles or just under 80% of the race.

My Garmin — the Official Timekeeper of KBT’s Race — says I finished in 1:29:21. This, for anyone keeping score at home, means I shaved a whopping one minute off my Peachtree Road Race time back in July.

Back before I started running.

However, have I mentioned how hilly this course is? My non-running 1.4 miles were on the worst of the hills, but there were others. Oh yes, there were others.

I do believe, however, that had I been doing the Peachtree course again now, I would have shaved at least two minutes off my time.

It was a long run; no doubt this is going to be a long report. Wouldn’t want to leave out a single moment of misery …

I managed to get a decent night’s sleep before, which was already a plus over the Peachtree. I’d laid everything out beforehand — Garmin charged; iPod loaded with all my upbeat playlists and then some for the added time; number pinned to my singlet. The most exciting piece of gear was a new running skirt, courtesy of a birthday gift certificate from my mom. My shoes were downstairs and I was too lazy to go get them, but I didn’t want to forget to attach my D-chip, so I pinned it to my shirt, as well, so I couldn’t lose or leave it.

My husband was nice enough to get up at the crack of dawn just to drop me off at the race, which was a big stress reliever for me. I had a banana and a bottle of water in the car; I don’t think he counted on the Starbucks stop. It’s like he’s never met me before …

It was still dusky when he dropped me off a little before seven. I went straight for the port-a-potty line, then did a few warm-up laps around the parking lot. Good thing I did, because I realized that my skirt was just a smidge too big. I’d sensed that when I bought it, but the next size down was clearly more than a smidge too small. I thought it would be okay, but I wasn’t walking briskly when I made that decision. It was going to be a long damn race if I had to keep yanking it up every four steps.

For once in my life, I was prepared. After attaching the D-chip to my shoe in the car, I’d kept the safety pin that had been holding it to my shirt. Fate was smiling, because it was even a larger pin, so a quick nip at the waist kept it firmly in place.

Problem solved, I got back in the port-a-potty line. Just in case.

I glanced at my watch and realized it was less than 5 minutes until the start. I’d heard the announcer sending off some of the other groups, but I wouldn’t have expected so many people to not be in place at that point.

The start of this race was very different than that of the Peachtree. Not meaning to imply that it wasn’t a well-run race, but having done only one other event obviously I’m going to compare. I realize that the logistics for a race of 55,000 people are going to be under tighter rein than one with “only” 13,000 participants, but I was surprised that not only were there no corrals for number groups, there weren’t even any suggestions (balloons, flags, what-have-you) of such. There was a large banner over the street that said “START”, yet people were clearly sardined ahead of that. There’s a large logoed bridge a short distance after the banner, so I thought maybe that was the “real” start, but it seemed too far away. I decided to let the timing mat show me where the official start was, but I don’t even remember seeing one.

What I loved about this, though, was the parachuters, each carrying the flag of a race sponsor, followed by one carrying an enormous American flag, with the national anthem being sung while he descended. Very cool.

A few warm-up aerobics later and it was finally time to start. I’d been chatting with a woman who, despite having done the race before, seemed as confused as I about what constituted the actual starting location, so when the air horn went off we both just sorta shrugged, wished each other luck, and followed the crowd.

I started my Garmin when I went under the banner, so as far as I’m concerned, it is my official time-keeper for the race.

There is an immediate downward slope … followed by an immediate hill up. The hill, in fact, is all you see standing at the start. I wanted to take a picture of it, but my cell phone was inaccessible. Well, technically not “inaccessible”; more like I didn’t want to access it right there and then. Even though my race skirt has a pocket in the back, I could tell immediately when I’d put it on that morning that running and having the cell phone banging my tush the whole time was not gonna work.

The phone, however, was vital since I’d be meeting the family after the race and needed a way to be in contact. What to do, what to do? Saran wrap to the rescue. Before leaving home I mummified my cell and stuck it in my sports bra opposite my iPod’s normal home.

While I didn’t mind running the race resembling nothing so much as Sponge Betty Square Boob, I really didn’t feel like standing in a crowd, digging around in my bra and retrieving the saran-wrapped phone just for the purpose of a picture, so you’ll just have to trust me — the view uphill was intimidating.

(Not my picture. Not me in the lead.)

I was all excited to come home and download my stats, but once I did, I realized that my decision to have the Garmin automatically record laps by the mile meant a lot more memory and math on my part to dissect my performance. At any rate, I ran that first hill, ran the first mile, and ran a significant portion of the second hill. I was almost at my 30-minute running goal, focused on a sign just over the ridge of the hill, thinking how close I was to finishing “the big one”, and the next thing I know I’m walking.

Wait, I wasn’t even thinking about walking. I was very clearly thinking about making it up the damn hill. Why are we walking? Damn lungs, who put you in charge? Wusses.

I walked .27 mile to the top of the hill, then ran the next two miles. My pace averaged 14:23 and I was firmly entrenched for most of it in the midst of walkers. Not that that was a problem, since I wasn’t going any faster than most of them. I informed one pair of older men that I was drafting off them.

“What are you doing to do when I fall out?” one asked.
”Be grateful I get to stop!” I huffed, before finally pulling ahead at the water station.

Mile marker four happens to coincide with the start of the worst hill on the course. It also coincides with my next walking stretch. In other words, truer words were never spoken:

Miles 1.7 to 2 and 4 to 5 … my only walking of the run.

At one point going up that hill a lady in front of me actually turned around to make sure, no doubt, that I wasn’t dying as I gasped for breath behind her. No worries, m’am, I always sound like that.

I’d been plodding along until this point in energy-conservation mode. The fact that I was running — however slowly — is what was important to me, and I wanted to be able to be running at the end. Now that the end was near, though, (halle-frikkin-lujiah) and I knew the hills were behind me, I decided it was time to give it a little more. The average pace for my last mile was 13:02. Eat my dust, walkers.

As if I weren’t already pouring it on (stop snickering), I got close enough to the finish to see the official clock. According to those digital numbers clicking away, I had less than a minute to beat my Peachtree time. There is no way I was going to have a worse time on a race I ran 80% of than one I ran, at most, eight percent of. No way.

I hauled ass, in one mean game of Beat the Clock. My own personal 100 yard dash. Eat my dust, Kenyans.

(Hey, I can do anything for 100 yards. Miraculously, I didn’t even want to vomit at the end.)

So, according to the results published today, my official time is 1:30:03. I’m pretty sure the clock just runs from the time the horn blows, regardless of where you are in relation to the official start. Can’t swear to it, but having hit my Garmin under the start banner and immediately after my big finish, I’m going with 1:29:21 as my official time. (Why yes, those 42 seconds are critical to my self-esteem, dammit.)

I came in 2784th overall — top 95th percentile. Whoooo, baby!

For the record, had the published results agreed with my Garmin I would have rocketed to number 2779 — aka top 95th percentile.

Oh, and I placed 292 out of 320 in my age group — ninetieth percentile. Whoooo, baby!

Regardless of whether I go by the race clock or my Garmin, I’ve now posted a new personal best in the 10K.

The good thing about a 10K that ends at a water park and spending the day there after is lots of nice cool water to soak in … hanging out in the wave pool, floating around the lazy river. Good for the knees and hips, both of which need some TLC.

The bad thing is that the fun rides are all uphill and up lotsa lotsa stairs.

It was a fun day all around, both the run and the rest, but now I’m not only sore but sunburned. Kinda hard to ice your shins when you’ve already got the chills.

What are you doing on Monday?
I’m running a 10K from the Galleria to Whitewater.
Oh, that has a lot of hills. Good luck!

Without fail. Every single person I’ve told I’m doing this 10K has responded the same way. Apparently, I’m the only one in town who doesn’t know that route is hilly.

I’ve made it a point during the past 9 weeks to actively avoid hills. I’ve driven to the flat neighborhood for my long runs and run farther simply to stay on flat streets rather than the short-but-uphill route home. Keep in mind, my definition of hills is something you’d allow a two-year-old to ride her Cozy Coupe down. Alone.

This is the elevation profile for one of my recent runs that was much hillier and more difficult than my norm:

This is the profile for the Peachtree Road Race which I did in July. That’s “Cardiac Hill” there at the 3.5 mile mark:

And this is profile for the race on Monday:

Oh, I am in so much trouble.

I was actually looking forward to this 10K on Monday until I found out about the hills. Now I’m nervous and already feeling like a failure because I don’t think I’ll be able to run as much as I wanted. Considering that I never intended to — or even thought I could — run the whole thing, I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much.

The fact is, I’m pretty sure I can meet most of my goals for the event.

1) Finish.
2) Run 30 minutes continuously.
3) Run at least 3.1 miles total during the race.

And that’s it. Those were my expectations before the “H” word started being bandied about. It would be rather difficult to adjust them down — because you can’t get much lower —  and they still seem perfectly doable, so why am I getting so worked up about it?

Just gotta pull up my big girl panties (and that new running skirt I bought) and deal with it.

I’ve been fighting a cough/bronchitis/allergies/something pretty much since I started C25K. I keep hoping that once I’m not hacking maybe the breathing portion of running will seem less torturous… a girl’s gotta have hope.

Now, on top of what I’m not yet over, I have a cold.

My nose is stopped up half the time. I can barely breathe. When I do try to breathe deep I make myself cough. I have a sinus headache. I’m not sleeping well so I’m absolutely exhausted.

This does not bode well leading up to this 10K. I’ve already psyched myself out over the hills, so mentally I’m miserable and now physically, too?

This is not how I envisioned celebrating my C25K graduation.

When I finished my last run I was so tired and so interested in drying off that I completely forgot to stretch. I thought about it the next day, but realized that I hadn’t had any problems or tightness, so no harm no foul.

So I thought.

My body may not have made a big deal of it then, but come time to run again, my legs were very clear about their displeasure. All the tightness I hadn’t felt during the two days prior? Clearly they’d been saving up.

I haven’t come as close to flat-out quitting a run within the first three minutes since somewhere around Week 2. Although I had stretched after my warm-up walk, no amount of additional attention was going to fix this. Because this? Was payback.

I gritted my teeth and I ran. I’d chosen a new route, a street I’ve never even driven down. One, it turns out, that starts with a long upward slope. Misery.

At some point, and I really can’t remember where, I realized that the tension had left my legs and the run had moved to the ‘tolerable’ phase. I came to an unfamiliar corner and had to make a choice. Right — a hill. Left — a bigger hill. Right it is. Good choice, as it turns out, because left would have taken me much farther from home, but there a long stretch when I truly didn’t recognize the houses and wasn’t sure which direction I was running.

Finally I got my bearings and continued to plod along at my lightening pace of 14:18 (hey! compared to 15:03 last time I was flying…) and even did a couple of back-and-forths along a cross-street near home — a flat one — just to add a bit to the mileage.

W9D1 stats: 2.85 miles or running in 40:45.

Thursday morning is my intended Day 2. Mornings haven’t been my strong point lately, but it’s supposed to be delightfully cool … and I have plans for Thursday evening. Monday is the 10K, so that will be my graduation run. Provided I can make it through the first 30 minutes.

Having seen the course, I’m starting to have serious doubts.