Achilles Hope and Possibility 5 Miler

“Great success!”  – Borat

Yesterday I completed my first race. The night before my race I was a ball of nerves. Luckily I was exhausted from a long day and had no trouble falling asleep at a reasonable hour. I woke up at 6:30, as I hadn’t yet picked up my race day materials.

I picked up my materials which included an Achilles Race T-shirt, my bib #, and a timing chip. I had no idea how to secure the timing chip to my shoe, so I casually watched a few other runners fasten theirs before I made my attempt. I also struggled a tad with my bib, adjusting it a few times trying to force it to lay flat. I was never on an athletic team when I attended Ithaca College, but I felt like I needed to represent my Alma matter’s gold and blue colors. Go Bombers!

Here I am with my gear, ready to go:

Around 8:00 they made the announcement for everyone to line up. I’m a slow runner, so normally I average a 10 minute mile. I figured that my nerves would make me run a bit faster, so I lined up in the 9 minute mile corral. I probably could’ve waiting a bit longer to line up, because I kind of just stood there being nervous for a good 15 minutes. Here I am standing and waiting:

8:20 was the start of the wheelchair race, and before I knew it the alarm rang for the rest of the runners to begin. It took a couple minutes to actually cross the start line, and the first mile it was pretty slow and congested. When I passed the first mile marker, it was approaching 12 minutes. At that time I was worried about not even making a 10 minute mile pace, so I picked up my speed from there. I skipped the first water station. I was a tad “over hydrated” (ahem…) and I was nervous about drinking too much and needing to take a pit stop.

Approaching the 3 mile mark, I really felt like I had picked up steam and caught up with the rest of the 9 minute mile group. That is until a fan yelled out “Here comes the 10 minute mile group!”  Crap. So I picked up my pace again, determined to run a 9 minute mile.

After mile four I started really pushing toward the finish. A little too soon. I started losing steam around 4.5, and started thinking that I pushed my pace up too soon before the finish line. However, I was quickly re-energized once I heard the music and crowds cheering at the finish.  With the finish line in view I sprinted toward the end. I was so fast that Brendan was barely able to snap a photo of me crossing the finish line!

I was on such an adrenaline rush that I forgot to even look up at my time. Luckily Brendan informed me later that it showed 46:50. Not too bad!

Here I am post race with my medal:

I knew the 46:50 time wasn’t exact, especially because it took so long for me to cross the starting line. So I checked the website today. Official time? 44:47! A 8:57 pace. Amazing!

I’m so happy I have my first run under my belt. I felt great afterwards and this makes me so much more confident for my half marathon in October.

Rain Rain Go Away…come again when I’m not training for a half marathon…

I ran my farthest run on Saturday- 6 miles! I was really excited to tackle this run, because it’s the first time I’ve been able to do the Central Park loop. I’ve done the 5 mile loop before, but it really felt good to run the full loop. I was a little apprehensive passing by the exit for the 5 mile loop, knowing that I was going past the point of no return (cue the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack…).  It really was an odd experience. I’d never been to that portion of the park before. It was very serene and I don’t think I had to dodge a single strolling tourist.  But I did encounter two new challenges in that mile: rain and a never ending hill. Honestly, I think those two challenges cancelled each other out. Running uphill is hard, and I think if I didn’t have the rain to distract me I would’ve focused all my energy on the hill that seemed to go on forever. So instead I focused on the rain. I made the decision to embrace the rain and enjoy it. It cooled me down and turned out to be a wonderful distraction.

Aside from the hill, it was a fairly easy run. I think that I’ve figured out that running outdoors comes much easier to me than running on a treadmill. Every time I run on a treadmill I seem to struggle. I focus solely on the time remaining, how long I’ve run and how fast I’m running. It feels like a chore- it’s not much fun. When I run outdoors, especially in Central Park, I feel  like I could almost keep running- past whatever mile mark I’m supposed to hit. I people watch. I race past people. I try to keep up with others. I get inspired by other runners. I feel like I’m part of a community. It’s leaps and bounds more enjoyable than running on a treadmill in a windowless, stuffy, smelly, Manhattan gym. So I’ve made the decision not to let rain ruin my runs any longer. A rainy run outdoors is more rewarding and enjoyable to me than a run on a treadmill. Take that Mother Nature!

Franken-Banana and Kamikaze Birds

Saturday I was scheduled for my “long” run. I use quotes only because this run was four miles, only one mile longer than my regular runs this week. Anyway, I woke up Saturday really excited to tackle my run. It was a beautiful day and my plan was to loop twice around the reservoir (three miles) then run back to Brendan’s apartment for the last mile.

Knowing I needed some fuel before my run I ate a banana with some peanut butter. Normally this would have been a great snack before a run, however I made two mistakes: 1. I ate it quickly and immediately after I finished it I ran out the door and 2. I ate the whole banana. I know what you’re thinking, “What’s wrong with eating a whole banana?” Well nothing, but this wasn’t a normal banana. It was a Franken-banana. It could have fed a small family for a day.

So here I am, filled to the gills with banana and pumped for this run. I walk 15 minutes to the reservoir and start running. Thirty seconds in (no exaggeration…) I get a terrible cramp in my side. The Franken-banana came to life and it did not feel like going for a run. The Franken-banana wanted to sit like a rock in my stomach. I was not going to let this horrible monster of a banana ruin my run. So I keep running, but the cramp only intensified. After I finish ¾ of the loop I finally slow to a walk, hoping to stretch the cramp out. This doesn’t work. I keep starting and stopping for the next half mile but to no avail.

As if the run couldn’t get any worse, I was passing by a lovely family with two little girls when all of a sudden two birds fell from the sky and landed in the exact spot I was about to plant my foot. Thankfully I have reflexes like a ninja and I was able to make an extremely awkward leap to the side to avoid the kamikaze birds.  I also managed to swear very loudly in front the family. The Dad, seeing the whole thing, just said “Whoa!”. I’m hoping the “Whoa!” was about the birds, and not about my swearing in front of his two kids.

By this point I’m just beside myself. The run became a comical mess. After one loop (1.61 miles) I decided to throw in the towel. I only came to that decision after I promised myself that I would tackle the four mile-er again the next day. And I did.

Sunday Brendan accompanied me on the four mile run. It was a pretty uneventful run along the East River. Around mile two an elderly gentleman asked us how we were doing and told us we were doing great. Normally I would’ve passed him off as a crazy old man, but his encouragement actually gave me a little boost. By mile three I was struggling a tad. Brendan seemed to be doing fine because he was trying to hold a conversation with me. All I could to was grunt, even though I really wished I had the effort to say “I love you, but please shut the hell up.” By mile four I had a surge of energy (runners high?) and I felt fabulous by the end of it.

Next weekend I add a mile. I think as long I as can get past the mile three slump and avoid eating mutant-sized fruit beforehand, I should be good to go.

“I Could Never Do That.”

Me: “I think I’m going to run a half-marathon”

My friend: “Um, maybe you should try a 5k first?”

Yes, my (brutally honest) friend is right. I’ve never run in a 5k before, so maybe I should set my expectations a little lower. But that’s not really my style. I have a history of naïvely setting unrealistic goals and only after I’ve accomplished said goal do I realize “why did I think I could actually do that?!” It’s a pretty decent character flaw to have and now that I’ve recognized this flaw I’m choosing to use it to my advantage.

A number of factors led me to the decision to run the 13.1 mile race. I recently went through a difficult few months. My boyfriend and I of four years broke up and I was left pretty wrecked. At the time was 25 and I was still carrying around the “freshman 15 (*cough*25*cough*)” from college. My life revolved around my boyfriend and I lost my identity in the process. We have since reconciled and it turns out that those few months apart was thing that could’ve happened to me (and to our relationship).

During those months I was able to re-discover who I was as a person and pretty soon I was bit by the fitness bug. I took up boxing classes a few times a week, hit the gym and began eating super healthy. The pounds fell off. I felt great and I had so much energy I didn’t know what to do with it all! I actually looked forward to the gym. It was baffling to me, but I just went with it.

Fast forward to today: I’m bored. I’ve reached a good weight (although I’d like to lose another 5-10 more) and I need a new goal to keep my interest. Recently a friend of mine ran in a local half-marathon and I remember thinking “I could never do that”. The second that thought passed through my mind I knew I had stumbled across my next target.

I don’t know what I don’t know about running a half-marathon. Hopefully by October 4, 2009 I’ll have a better grasp on things…