Folly or Feasible?

Not only was this my first 5K, it was my first experience with a small (small) race.

The good thing about a race through your neighborhood is that you can walk to the start. At least, it’s good until the weather turns cold and you start obsessing about just what you’re going to wear and, more importantly, what you’re going to do with what-you-want-to-wear-while- standing-around-but-don’t-want-to-wear-while-running.

This was actually a bigger stressor than I ever expected. I seriously considered driving at one point, until I reminded myself just how very stupid that would be.

I decided on sweat pants and a sweat shirt over my running gear. Then I decided no sweats, my legs would have to be cold, and I could throw the sweatshirt in my front yard on the way by. As it turns out, I could have just left it at the start with no problems, but being used to huge races that don’t loop, I wasn’t even thinking about it. My recent resurgence of sinus troubles made me leery of breathing the cold air (at least for the first mile, until the gasping set in), so I borrowed Boo’s buff, figuring it could do double duty of keeping the ears warm and covering my mouth.

I opted not to run with my iPod. Figured I could tough it out for three miles.

My husband and WP were leaving town early Saturday morning; Boo and Kitty had strict instructions that their job was to cheer for me when I passed the house. Friday night, however, Boo offered to come with me and hang out in the coffee shop while she waited for me, so she became my official sherpa/photographer.

They were setting up the finish line when we arrived. At the bottom of a steep parking ramp. Great. More uphill running at the end.

Last year there were 100 participants; I don’t know exactly how many were there this year, but I’m guessing closer to 50. I got my number, then Boo and I hung out people-watching until it was time to line up. We saw a few strollers, a couple of people with dogs, and a lot of serious looking runners. I made my pick for top female finisher, and Boo told me later that I was right.

The start line was down and around to the side of the parking deck.

Are you walking? someone asked me as we lined up.
No, but as slowly as I run I might as well be.

I was stupidly grateful to realize that there were walkers.

My race strategy was to go easy for the first mile, which starts flat but is mostly rolling hills, push it on the second mile, which is flat and easy, and then just do what I could on the third, which has several uphill stretches.

I took off entirely too fast, instinctively trying to keep up with the herd. Fortunately, I realized my mistake almost immediately and forced myself to slow down, watching them pull away as I was passed by a man pushing a stroller.

My mantra for the event became, Run your own race.

Which didn’t stop me from being happy to pass a woman who’d gone out too quickly then began walking within the first half mile. (That was me during the Peachtree.)

I was already missing my iPod.

Somewhere around there I caught up with a woman pushing a stroller. We were on an uphill and I didn’t actually pass her, so she sped up. This happened a couple of times … I didn’t see the point in wasting energy just to get by her, but she clearly wanted to stay ahead of me.

Run my own race.

I spotted my fence but couldn’t see Kitty. Just as I was going by, the front door opened and she brought the dog out. The big, ill-behaved dog that she can barely control when he’s not determined to see me or finally able to get closer to all those other people he’s been watching go by.

Take him inside! I yelled, wasting valuable breath and feeling stressed rather than encouraged by her presence. So much for my cheering section.

I made the turn at the second mile and started running faster. I had my sleeves down over my Garmin, and even though I’d pushed one up now that I was warmer, I made sure to keep the other over the display. Ignorance is bliss.

I passed a couple who was now walking that I’d noticed much earlier, thinking then that even though they were now walking they were so far ahead they’d still beat me. Nope.

Caught up to a guy Boo and I’d noticed earlier, who was wearing a shirt from the Bison Stampede 5K she’d done earlier in the month. I passed him, then he pulled up even, I pulled ahead … we kept it up for about five minutes until I finally pulled away for good. He didn’t bother me, but I was curious if he was pacing off me (now THAT’s a scary thought) or if I was just really bad at keeping my pace steady (which wouldn’t surprise me).

Run my own race.

(Boo’s self-portrait while waiting in the coffee shop.)

The second mile went by fairly quickly and painlessly. I was definitely warmed up, although my arms still felt a bit chilled. I put the buff around my wrist instead of my head. Re-did my ponytail. Pulled out a kleenex and tucked it in my sleeve. Adjusted whatever else needed adjusting, all of which was really more of an effort to keep my mind off the running.

Because I’m an awful judge of pace, it was tempting to see where I stood when I entered the third mile, but I didn’t look. It wouldn’t have helped — I wasn’t going to be able to make up anything significant if I were off my 40-minute goal — but it certainly could demoralize me.

Besides, if I wanted to be demoralized I had those hills coming up.

They were … everything I expected them to be. I had a long talk with myself in which I pointed out that these were not actually “hills”; I had done hills in the US10K Classic and these, m’am, were no hills. My lungs ignored the pep talk and my gasping got very audible, despite attempts to even out my breathing. My only real strategy for these situations is don’t look. Fixating on a mailbox or lamp-post at the top can be a motivating goal for many people, I know, but for me it’s just like looking at a mirage in the desert —so appealing yet never getting any closer. Eyes down, one foot in front of the other, and just keep going.

I was close to one woman who would end up finishing before me, but I was pleased to note that she walked the hills and I didn’t.

At which point I reminded myself to run my own race.

My co-worker’s house was dark and quiet. I gotta pick better cheerleaders.

A volunteer directed us to the last turn. “It’s mostly downhills from here,” he encouraged.
I pointed, eyebrows raised, to the clearly visible hill shortly after the turn.
“That’s just a little hill,” he insisted.
Clearly he hasn’t met me.

But, I knew he was right, that it was just a little hill, but I also knew that it was hiding an even bigger one. Why do you think I never run that street? My legs weren’t overly tired, but my lungs were about over the constant uphill, and cresting that last hill was as close to stopping as I came. Didn’t, though. Barreled down the other side, past an older guy who’d been ahead of me from the start, around the corner and toward the finish.

I could see the timer at 36:50. Having beat my goal by so much didn’t register yet; my only thought was just getting to it before many more seconds ticked away.

As I ran up the ramp I struggled to rip off the bottom of my number. A volunteer handed me a card, pointing toward the table at the top. As I started filling it in, I noticed it had a place for time. Panicked. Looked at the woman manning the table.

Was I supposed to have looked? I saw it turn over 37 … I’m just gonna write 37:15.

She shrugged, told me that was fine.

And that’s how my “official time” for this 5K came to be 37:15. (Note to self: in small races you need to pay attention to these things. That lack of a D-chip might have been a clue…)

I put the card in the slot for 40-44 Female and turned around to find Boo beside me.

You’re the only one in there!
Does that mean I’m the first one?
Yeah it does!

I grabbed some post-race sustenance while Boo pointed out runners and told me how they’d finished and other stories from her solo people-watching. We  chatted with the man in the Bison Stampede shirt. Turns out it was from last year’s race, that he’d done a different 5K that weekend this year. He told us this was his 53rd 5K, that he’s been running since 2007, has done lots of 10K’s and a few half-marathons, as well, and that he’s lost over 100 lbs. since he started. Nice guy, very inspirational.

We hung around while the last participants came in, then they gathered us down near the coffee shop to do the awards. A lot of people had left, but, by golly, if Boo thought I was going to get an award, I was gonna stand there and shiver until I found out for sure!

I did, indeed, come in first in the 40-44 year old female group. I really don’t think anyone else was in it, but one of the walkers might have been. I wish I’d been paying better attention, because they announced my overall place, but I didn’t notice. And I care about that really only because I’m still trying to figure out how many people actually participated. Boo and I cheered for everyone (who was still there) then started walking home.

At which point I began texting everyone I knew that I’d placed first in my age group.

When reading about training runs, the general advice for an easy run seems to be 1-2 minutes slower than your 5K race pace. Which, until now, has meant absolutely nothing to me.

My goal for my first 5K was to break 40 minutes. My pace lately has been averaging a little under 14 minutes per mile, so I figured with a little pushing, 13 mm ought to be doable.

My final time was 37:15. Woo hoo! I couldn’t wait to get home and download my Garmin to see how the splits worked out.

What does it mean?

• I can run faster for 3 miles than I think I can.
• Going out conservatively is a good plan, even if I wasn’t as conservative as I’d intended.
• My long runs are apparently at the proper pace.
• I should probably be pushing a little harder on the short runs.
• Hills may not be fun, but clearly they are doable.
• Not looking at my Garmin at all during the race was an excellent plan.
• I can do well in races where nobody else in my age group shows up.

The Good:

• Did 14 miles overall.
• Met my goal to run 4 miles on Wednesday, despite it being a chilly, drizzly day.
• Got my iPod charged (and did it before the four-mile run).
• Joined the YMCA. Had a meeting with a trainer to get set up on the weight machines.
• Beat my time goal of 40 minutes in my first 5K.

The Bad:

• I haven’t yet cancelled my membership to my old gym. Which makes my Y membership very, very expensive until I do.
• I didn’t make an appointment for my knee. I did get the name of a good doctor to call, but didn’t actually do it. Knee is feeling better, though, so it’s easier to ignore. Not smart, just easier.
• I didn’t do my planned Thursday run, but did (mostly) make up for it Friday.
• Sitting on cold concrete bleachers after a run and before a 5K isn’t the best plan. My hip was better by morning, but I had a very achy night that made me wonder how it would be for running.

The Ugly:

• I had a major sinus headache on Friday and an increase in my coughing. Considering that I’m still on antibiotics for the staph infection, I don’t consider that break-through a good sign at all. I go back on Wednesday for a follow-up, so I’m guessing they’ll scrape my brain with a Q-tip again for a new culture.

Goals for the Upcoming Week:

• Cancel gym membership. Seriously.
• Time management. We have company coming for the weekend, so that Friday workout will have to be done before work (YUCK!), and I’ll have to not drink too much Friday night considering Saturday’s run.

Training Plan for the Week:

I really hadn’t counted on it being cold. It’s only recently turned from sweltering to temperate, with a whole lotta rainy thrown in for good measure, but cold was not even on my radar.

Fortunately I do like a good sale and had jumped on a cheap online offering of Mizuno tights and 1/4 zip long-sleeve shirt that I’d heard about. Hadn’t really expected to need them anytime soon, but with a 45-degree start predicted for my 5K, I was grateful when the postman showed up with that box.

I hadn’t run Thursday as intended and knew I’d be stiff and miserable Saturday if I didn’t get something in, so Friday afternoon I went out for a short, slow two miles, which had the added bonus of letting me try out the new shirt before the 5K.

There are times at the end of a run when I’m practically clawing the Garmin off my wrist, and I’m not a fan of clingy clothes (even when I’m skinny), so I was nervous about the necessity of switching to long sleeves, but I knew it was a necessary evil. Despite being stretchy, the shirt didn’t annoy me near as much as I’d expected. It was really too warm for the mid-50 temps I ran in on Friday — a good tidbit of information to have gleaned — and I appreciated the little pocket in the back, although initially I thought the way it rubbed my side would be a problem. Once running, though, I didn’t even notice it.

Overall I’m pleased with the purchase. Not pleased with running this 5K in the cold (I’m a major weather wuss, I admit it), but at least I felt like whatever else happened, I’d be dressed appropriately for it.

I suppose it would make sense to have started with a 5K then worked my way up to a 10, huh? But no, my couch-potato self did the Peachtree Road Race on July 4th, started C25K on the 6th, graduated from that with the US10K Classic over Labor Day and is just now getting around to doing a 5K.

Finally something I can run the entire way! Woo hoo!

I’m planning to do a Halloween 5K and wasn’t really looking for one earlier, but since I can walk to the start and it literally passes my house, how can I not? I finally tracked down the course map yesterday and damned if they don’t have it set so the final mile is uphill. Ish.

Real runners, of course, won’t notice the difference, but I’ve made an art in the last three months of avoiding anything on an angle, including speed humps (always going around rather than over). I’m quite familiar with that final leg and run it often — the other way. Making mountains out of these molehills is what I do, though, and I spent a good portion of yesterday whining about the grueling challenge with which I am now faced.

I sent an email to a co-worker, linking to the route and lamenting the diabolical direction which they’d chosen to run the race.

I will expect to see you standing on your front porch cheering me on as I go by.
It actually goes down my street? Cool.
No, dammit, it goes UP your street. Weren’t you listening?
I’ll be outside on the lawn in my green snuggie waiting for you. What time should I go out?
Well, the race starts at 8:30 and you’re around the 2 1/2 mile mark. The good people will probably be by around 8:45. So look for me about 9:45.

Later that day I got an email from the neighborhood association encouraging people to run, noting that last year there were only 100 runners.

Most people would probably see that and think, “Hey! Fewer people — I have a better chance of placing!”

My first thought? “Well that certainly increases my chances of coming in dead last…”

My goal is come in under 40 minutes. I did 13:38 per mile last night with Kitty, but good lord is she miserable to run with, so with race day adrenaline and without her, I should be able to make up the difference pretty easily. And if I go out too fast and wear myself out in the first two miles? Well, I’ve spent many a miserable day running these particular roads, so at least it’ll be a familiar feeling.

Goals for My Week:

Run — 4 miles Wednesday, 2 miles Thursday

Charge my iPod* — my huffing and puffing is hardly inspiring music to run by.

Complete Saturday’s 5K in 40:00 or under — this would be known as a “reach” goal. I should, perhaps, have stopped after “complete”…

Make doctor appointment to get knee checked — R.I.C.E. was ineffective, and it’s been bothering me about as long as I’ve been running. With my increase in mileage, so is there a corresponding increase in my “awareness” of it, even when though it doesn’t actively hurt unless I do this (so I don’t do this).

Cancel gym membership — much as I hate it (the cancelling, not the gym; love that gym), I need to join the Y instead where I have access to treadmills.

*This would be the equivalent of adding “take shower” to the daily to-do list, just for the explicit purpose of having something to cross off at the end of the day.

You’d think I’d won a flippin’ Olympic gold medal.

Guess how far I ran? Five miles. FIVE!

Hey, did I tell you how far I ran yesterday?

Boo, did you tell your boyfriend I ran five miles yesterday? Why not? Tell him!

WP, tell Kitty how far I ran. What do you mean you don’t know? I ran FIVE miles. Weren’t you listening? That’s FIVE … F-I-V-E. Five miles.

Did you know I did five miles the other day?

Yep, I did end up running. I did FIVE miles!

Boo, what did your boyfriend say about my run the other day?

Hey, guess what. I ran five miles the other day.

Kitty, tell your grandmother what I did. The running. The five miles? Of course she cares.

I think I’m starting to get how runners can totally bore other people with their conversation . . .

My runs lately have been a true struggle. Whether because I’m running multiple days in a row and am tired or am still playing catch-up on some stamina after my illness-and-injury break, I don’t know. I just know that the continuous running portions haven’t been reaching three miles, which I’d been doing before, and in some cases even two miles requires a walk break … or two.

Some of it is that I’m going to fast. (Caveat, as always, that “fast” is a relative term!) I can’t pinpoint why some days 12:30 feels slow and some days 14:59 seems a herculean effort. But when I’m struggling at a mile and glance at the Garmin, invariably I’m in the 11-12 mm range. And I make a conscious effort to slow down, only to discover a few minutes later that I’m at 12:15, yet feeling like I’m just plugging along. I burn out early on those days. Some days, though, I’m not playing Speed Racer, and I still feel like I’m back on Week 3. No rhyme or reason.

This is not forward progress and is certainly nowhere near being on-target with the half-marathon training plan I expected to start following after the US10K Classic on Labor Day. A month ago. Last weekend I should have done 5 miles as my long run and hit 14 miles for the week, not struggling just to do three on a treadmill — and fewer every day thereafter.

I got fed up with it.

Boo, I need a favor. I’m going to go run, and then I’m going to call you to come pick me up.
Um, okay. Where will you be?
Don’t know. That’s the point. I just want to run without worrying about how far I’m going, whether I’ll have enough energy to get back, whether I could or should have gone farther, whatever.
Okay, just make sure it’s somewhere I know how to get to.
Well I don’t think I’m going to get THAT far away, but thanks for the vote of confidence!

I put on my running skirt, the one that had only been worn during the US10K Classic. Obviously that makes it my long-distance outfit of choice, right?

Earlier that day I had driven a route through a section of my neighborhood I rarely run — primarily because it’s all uphill on the way home. I hadn’t looked at the mileage, just assured myself that it was new and different and, most importantly, downhill.

And I went for my run.

I really wasn’t in the mood. This was supposed to be my day of rest after four days in a row. It was late in the day, and I was tired. I warned Boo that I might well get only as far as the corner before I called her to pick me up.

You’d make me come pick you up at the corner?
Have you met me?

I took the downhill route. Settled into a rhythm and tried not to go too fast. I looped around to the familiar cross street, expected to turn back into the neighborhood and head home but decided to go to the next street before turning in. Noticed a street on the left I’d never been on … a street that looked nice and flat. Ran to the end. Ran back to the main road. Decided to go a little more before heading back home.

I’ve developed a knack for glancing at my Garmin for pace without noticing the distance. Knowing the distance is the kiss of death for any run of mine, so this is a valuable skill. After the first mile my pace was hovering at 15 mm, slow even for me, about a half-step away from walking in some instances. But it was having the desired effect in that I was still running.

Starbucks. That’s where I need to go. Mostly flat on the way over, a nice place to sit while I wait, I deserve another latte if I run all the way over there.

There’s a slight hill up to the Starbucks. I almost quit, as is my wont with my well-established “good enough” approach, but slowed down ever more and chugged away to the top. And kept going. The main street is flat, I’ve run there often, and I felt like I could go a little more, so I did.

Knowing I really could stop wherever certainly helped.

I risked a glance at the distance and discovered I’d been almost 4.5 miles. I made it a goal to hit five.

Ironically, the five-mile mark took me to within 1/2 mile of my house. One more light, a nice downhill stretch, cross into the neighborhood, an easy 1/4 mile back to house.

I called Boo. Come pick me up. Told her I’d be at the entrance to the neighborhood.

You’re kidding me, right?
Bring my Gatorade.

Why didn’t I just walk that last 1/4 mile? I could have. Frankly, I’m pretty sure I could have run all the way home. So why did I call?

Because that was the deal: I could stop and call whenever. I could run as far as I wanted, then stop. And a deal’s a deal, even if it is with my inner three-year-old. Would she believe me next time if I said, “Oh we’re almost there. Just push a little further, you can do it?” Heck no.

Mind games.

Whatever works.

One-hundred fourteen.
114.
CXIV.

Four-point-four marathons’ worth.
Eighteen-point-four 10K’s.

One-fourteen is the number of miles I’ve gone since July 4th when I did the Peachtree Road Race and decided to start C25K on the 6th. Some of them were walking miles, of course, but walk-with-intent to run. And I dare say it is greater than the sum total of miles than I’ve run since I was 19 years old.

It averages out to 1.18 miles per day.

Travelling from my home I could have reached four other states.

Could have gone to Auburn, a school Boo took one look at and crossed firmly off her list for being too far in the middle of nowhere. Could have gone to Athens … Athens, TN, not the home of UGA, which is high on Boo’s list (and I only hope she is high on theirs). Could be halfway to visiting my parents. Could be in the NC mountains, preferably in Highlands, where I would walk and/or run nowhere at all, choosing instead to sit on the porch enjoying mimosas in the cool mountain air.

Of course, I could drive to any of these places in two hours (or less. Probably less, considering how I drive…). However, at my average pace of around 14 minutes per mile, it would take me closer to 27 hours. Running continuously.

For now I think I’ll stick to running around my neighborhood. Intermittently.

• I’ve run six out of the last eight days.
  
• I went out of town over the weekend. I took my clothes, shoes and Garmin, planning to get a run in while I was there. That, in and of itself, shows a huge shift in my thought process. And when it was too cold and rainy, I got up early and went to the hotel fitness center instead, doing 45 minutes on the treadmill. On top of which, after I flew home the next day I made a point to go run rather than just flopping on the couch for the rest of the night.
  
• The newest knee issue petered out after a couple of days of twingy-ness at the start of my runs. The on-going tightness behind my right knee remains.
  
• I went to an ENT who put me on yet another antibiotic and at least 4 nasal sprays, but I do generally feel better, and the cough has lessened considerably. My culture came back as staph, requiring a change of antibiotics to something stronger (Antibiotics which, it seems, are the go-to choice for gonorrhea and syphilis. I’ll stick to my staph, thanks). Since my nose hasn’t fallen off, I’m assuming it’s not the flesh-eating kind.
  
• I talked Boo, my oldest, into going on a run with me this week. Unintentional speed work, since I found myself huffing and puffing and realized we were doing 11:18. Right up to the point I realized it, at any rate. The two miles ended up averaging out at 13 mm, which was not unheard of for me on shorter runs. She, however, had trouble going so slowly, and stopped to walk more than once, waiting for me to catch up. Not to mention that she chatted the whole way. Not gasped. Not huffed. Not growled. Chatted. Continuously.
  
• Boo did the Bison Stampede this weekend while I was out of town. I had originally registered for myself about 10 minutes before the mailman brought that wedding invitation. So I told her to find a friend and run it in my place. In addition to the race tee, she got quite the fetching wooly-bison horn baseball cap. Which she wore during the run. She finished in 27:30 and would have beat the first-place finisher in her age group by over four minutes.
  
• I’m looking forward to the 5K on the 17th, since it will be the first time I’ve raced that distance. And it’s practically in my backyard, so I’ll walk to the start as my warm-up. No matter what happens, it’ll be a personal best!

When I have a run like today, when my muscles don’t want to cooperate, when it’s hard-as-hell to keep putting one foot in front of the other, when I barely make it a mile and half without stopping, I remind myself …

… that four months ago I was still “on the couch” (which, unlike being on the wagon, is not a desirable thing) and the thought of running to the mailbox — much (much MUCH) less a half-marathon — wasn’t something I’d even consider.

… that three months ago running 60 seconds was agony, that doing it 8 times, even with walk breaks, seemed impossible, and that I never really thought I’d make it past Week Two. But I did do it, each and every week on schedule, and that I didn’t quit and I did make it past Week Two.

… that two months ago it was still very much something I did, grimly and with much internal dialogue convincing me to “just go and get it over with”, as opposed to something I found any enjoyment or gratification or success in at all, and that even the pride of having run 20 minutes was overshadowed by how damn hard it was each and every time. But that in only one month I had gone from gasping and struggling with 60 seconds to being able to run twenty minutes straight, something previously unfathomable.

… that one month ago I was dealing with a cold-turned-bronchitis and the worsening of my ongoing knee issue. But that I graduated C25K by doing a 10K and actually ran most of it; that I hated having to miss runs due to being sick; and that I wasn’t just hoping to finish the half-marathon, I was setting time goals for myself.

… that one week ago I was finally able to start running regularly again and I hadn’t, as I’d feared, regressed to Week 1 but could still run for 30 minutes.

… and that today, when it was hard-as-hell, was the fourth day in a row that I’ve run. That I went out there because I wanted to. That everyone has bad runs.  And most especially that I have come a long way, baby, and one tough day no longer has the power to send me into a tailspin.

Tomorrow is another day. And a day of rest, at that.