Flat Busted

I ran a DNF this morning. 

Wednesday

Ever had one of those weeks where you are in a foreign country at 78 degrees and sea level on Wednesday and on Thursday you’re back home and it’s sleeting and Sunday it’s 58 and sunny and by Tuesday at 0500 Eastern Daylight savings time you realize that your lungs are complaining and your right calf is twitching and you haven’t even started your run yet?

Friday

Yeah. 

Me either.

So, I wasn't Dead Ass Last this morning for most of the run... until I was..

At mile 4.6 I was so far off the peloton that I realized that they weren’t going to come back for me because they didn’t know I was still back there. Most of the slower runners had turned to take the shorter route back by that point.

I was alone in the dark and kinda disappointed.

To Be Clear:  I’m not upset with the Back To Last Crew.

It’s no one’s fault but my own for not pushing myself to keep up.  I was just too far gone at that point.  I'm not sure when it went to hell exactly, but I think it was somewhere around mile 4.  That's when I looked at my watch and realized I had no business expecting anyone to come back for me.  

My pace was just too far off the mark.

I was also slightly over dressed. I did everything I could during the run to cool myself off.  I pushed up my sleeves. I unzipped my ¾ zip top. Nothing helped.

I was busted.

So at mile 5.5 I turned off my watch and walked the short distance back to the coffee shop where the Rogue Runners meet. I sat down and had a pleasant coffee with some nice guys who I’ve known for years, and some new friends who I met today.  

It was funny though, after coffee I commented to my friend that today in particular the guys were way nicer than usual. He chuckled, pointed out my generalized hotness, and then we discussed the politics of meeting new people.

He also said there were definitely some available men at Rogue, if I was looking for a guy to guy around with.

“Nope. I’m not interested. At all. I’m just here to run.”

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy runners. I think they’re great. Most of the time they’re hot. And generally I find runners to be among the friendliest people in the world. They will invite you for a run with them, even if they don’t know you. Even if you're in a foreign country. Or California.

Seriously, runners are the best.

But, "Guys" are not why I get up at oh dark hour and torture myself on the streets of Richmond several times a week.

When I got home this morning I was still thinking about the great conversation, and I saw myself in the mirror. I gasped. I didn’t see hotness; I saw a hot sweaty mess. I also saw why the guys were super friendly today. The ¾ zip was pretty low, and between that and the post run glow, I wasn’t just busted, I was busting out.

Whoops.

~savor the run~

WINE and CHOCOLATE and RUN. oh my

The Flowers my Run
got me for V'day

Yesterday I spent the morning with my Valentine. As I said before, my Run and I are in a deeply committed relationship. 

Its "The Year of the 5K", and I have made it a priority to get my speed back in 2015.  So in order to do that, I have to make goals.

The Long Term Goal – beat 23:25 22:59

Saturday’s Goals in no particular order:

Win.

Run Sub 8-minute miles.

Try Not To Suck.

Pretty simple, eh?

And beyond these things, anything else was just icing on the cake. And to be clear, there wasn’t cake, but the 5K was at New Kent Winery, so it didn’t matter.  There was WINE and CHOCOLATE and RUN.

Almost all of my favorite things together in one place.  ~pinch me~ 

So let me just start by saying what had’a happen’d wuz the weather was bitterly cold. But I thought it was just on the edge of my “skirt” vs “tights” line.  So I decided to wear a skirt for racing and change after. 

Maybe shoulda rethought that one, but s’ok. I survived. And the feeling slowly returned to my legs after a hot shower that drained the hot water heater...

Dash, Dot and I arrived to the race nice and early, parked, and headed up to the porta potty line, all the way commenting on how beautiful it is out there at New Kent Winery.

100% beautiful. And 100% cold. Freakishly cold. Way colder than I like. Way way colder than my lungs tolerate.  Back to that in a minute...

We checked our bags, ran about a mile warm up with a few strides thrown in, and since the race was scheduled to start at 9, I lined up on the start line at about 8:55.

An echo floated on the wind, "If you toe the line, you have to race."

 ~ Coach HP ~

And there I waited in the freezing cold. Standing still. Did I mention the cold? No? Ok. It was chilly.

That wasn’t a big deal though.  'Cos it was only for 5 minutes. Except that 15 minutes later I realized it was going to be a problem. 'Cos we were still waiting and my body was locking up. My lips could barely move. I was bouncing in place trying to keep warm but nothing was working.

My lungs questioned our sanity. I told them to STFU, my Run and I were on a date, Lungs would have to sit tight.

The race started at closer to 9:15, so I’d been standing still for 20 minutes in freezing temps with a wind chill of well below freezing. Wearing a skirt, ‘cos I’m legitimately stupid a Galactic Badass.

It was only a 5K though, and I knew it would be over soon.  

As usual, I didn’t wear a watch. Why bother? My race day strategy for the 5K distance is “Run on the edge of death, and when you want to die, push yourself just a little harder”.

I don’t know what my pace was at any given point, but at mile 1ish (the course was unmarked) I was running side by side with the 2^nd place female. At the turn into the golf course I dropped her and set my sights on the 1^st place female and she dropped me like one of Those People I Don’t Know on a Tuesday Morning.

I couldn’t catch her, so I entertained myself by chasing down the next available Male I spotted. I repeated my mantra in my head, "How bad do you want it?" as my body started to fatigue.

I finished on the uphill without looking too deeply at the clock.  I walked a few hundred yards past the smattering of volunteers with shaking legs while fighting to draw air in through my quickly narrowing wind pipe.

After I grabbed my checked bag and threw on all the clothing I’d brought, I headed back to the finish line just in time to see Dot then Dash cross the line. I grinned at Dash, “I hope you don’t mind if we hang out for a while... cos I’d like to stay for the awards ceremony...”.  I sounded like Hell; OH yeah, and at the wine tasting after the race, we ran into my Jr High boyfriend.  As in, the boy I "went out with" in 1990ish.

True. Freaking. Story.  

What are the odds? Well, apparently, when I'm involved, the odds are good that the world will continue grow smaller and smaller.

Back to the running. My personal best is still a minute out of range, but I’m making progress.

24:31 earned me Female Open Second Place.

7:53 avg. pace

I did not suck.

I failed at my goal of winning.

This is what failure looks like, if you want to know.

Failure looks like taking :45 seconds off my 5K time in two months.

Failure

Failure looks like an open bottle of wine at 10 a.m., a few beautiful roses, and many smiles. Failure can further be defined by the copious amounts of laughter and badassery that was exchanged across the span of a white tablecloth.  And by the frozen “My Banana is Hard” jokes. And by the hours that passed in the company of new friends as we grew increasingly breathless with laughter from the hilarity that ensued.

No one could have predicted that a 5K in New Kent would result in Jesus on a Log stories, the discovery of a really charming vineyard, and a deeper appreciation of why it’s important for women to surround themselves with a good support system.

our new friends - seriously, these
women define Galactic BadA**ery
without even trying.

I ended my day by having two pretty severe asthma flare-ups. I leaned on my support system for one, and relied on my own knowledge for the other. It will likely change my run strategy this week, but I’m hopeful that this was an acute event, not the beginning of anything else. 

This will be a “recovery”/”baby myself” week, but I'll be out there chasing the Back To Last crew as soon as my lungs allow.

Finally -

To the Race Director of the Vinterra Race for the Chocolate there's only a few things I would change about your race. The Race Tent needed heaters inside or a Fire Pit outside. There was no place to wait before the race that was warm.  The race should have started on time, or the runners should have been advised that it was 15 minutes behind schedule.  The course was great, exactly as advertised. I will definitely run this one next year.

The Year of The 5K : The Updated Stat Sheet.

What to wear MTB in the WINTER

There is NOTHING I hate worse than being cold.
Except the trainer. I hate the trainer worse than I hate cold. I mean seriously, why would I want to sit on the trainer in my living room when I could sit on a super comfy MTB in the woods while snow falls on me?

But every week that I go to ride my sweet whip, I suffer with the same dilemma...

Gah! What do I wear?

"There are flurries drifting down, coating the grass like powdered sugar, but it’s actually going to be a balmy 37 degrees. That’s nearly 40! If this was running I’d be in a skirt."

Grrr. What do I wear?

"BUT this isn’t running, this involves a bike. It’s cold. It’s going to be a frigid 37 degrees! Do you have ANY IDEA of how COLD 37 degrees is on a BIKE? It is cold."

I recently read a blog that was the opposite of helpful, written by some a$$ dude who obviously thinks people ask these things because it’s a FASHION STATEMENT.

Thanks yo'.

You go ahead and talk about the lycra and #junk looking nice on our cute girly figures. Over here in central VA, I’m much more worried about not over or under dressing (shudder the thought) for a 20 mile MTB ride.

Unlike running, where you become warm very quickly and typically dress for 20 degrees cooler than the forecast temperatures, cycling is different.

On a road bike you dress for 20 degrees colder than the outside temp. This is because you make your own wind child. It’s awesome. I’m kidding. It’s horrible. I’m not a fan of having cold feet. Or cheeks. Did you know your chin can get so cold you can’t talk? DeNiece and I experimented with that earlier this winter season right before she put her bike in the garage where it has sat ever since.

But MTB is warmer than road cycling. The speeds are typically cut in half. Typically one is negotiating obstacles, so there are points when a MTB may be sitting still while the rider is sweating bullets with adrenaline PUMPING and heart POUNDING.

Also, the trees shelter the MTB riders, and on the road in VA there is relentless WIND that bites... metaphorically and metaphysically. 

So this weekend I wore wool socks, running tights over bike shorts, 3 layers on top, a camel back w/ H2O, a hat, gloves and a helmet... aaaaaaannnnnd, my toes were so cold at the end of the ride that they were white, and they turned purple when I revived them in a tub of warm water...

~speaking of things that sound awesome but are not~

so.

next time I will dress my feet like I am going road riding. And my tip would be, dress for 15 degrees cooler than the forecast. Or, if the temp is going to be 40, dress for running at 5 degrees. Or, put your bike on the trainer next to DeNiece's & TMBs.

meddling kids

In 1969 Hanna-Barbera premiered what would become one of my all time favorite TV shows, Scooby Doo.


I idolized the characters, loving how smart they were, and as a small child, was always impressed at how the BIG REVEAL went down at the conclusion of every show.  And I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for you meddling kids.  My phases of adoration went through the series characters, from Scooby, of course, to Daphne because of her awesome clothing choices, and onto Velma because she was so super smart...  I was never a fan of Fred and Shaggy until the live action film made in 2002.

running a marathon feels a lot like this...

Some of my favorite episodes still air once in a while on Boomarang and Cartoon Network, and it's funny (sick) how often I see the show and remember exactly what/how it ends.  One thing that always got me was the color choices on the clothing for the characters.  Those colors were....fab.


I always feel, when I'm out running, that I'm a bit like Velma.  I mean, seriously, look at her.  


And then, look at me.


Every year our clothing choice for MTT is made for us.  We wear a matching Team Uniform.  It's technical fabric, light weight, and printed with the Sports Backers Marathon Training Team logo on the front.  1200 of us run in these identical shirts so that the 100 coaches (give or take) who line the course on race day will recognize us and help us out as needed.  


The shirts are always bright.  The one year they chose a "normal" primary color (blue) apparently it was a ~fail~.  Since then The Man has always selected horrific wonderful unique colors like:


Virginia Tech is better than the other one Orange - Listen, all I'm saying is that if you look at the orange, it's more Hokie than Hoo.


Sea Foam (or is that Sea Sick?) Green - an odd minty shade that definitely had a touch of sea-foam mixed with a bit of "under the weather" and a touch of SNOT.


It's all Sunshine and Daisies Here Yellow - Your'in good company with yellow (this was the color last year, it was great, I actually didn't hate it).


and this year,


CREST TOOTHPASTE GREEN... a color that isn't made in nature.


As soon as I saw it I thought... if Daphne ever raced a marathon, this would be her color choice.... but what would she wear with it....?  Duh, purple.  And then Velma would argue the merits of wearing Tall Socks, and Daphne would agree.... and the next thing you know, Daphne's race day marathon outfit would look exactly like mine.


Toothpaste & Berries.


I didn't like the way the top fit, so I altered it with a small gather in the bust.


The skirt is Lululemon - there's another story with that, but I'll tell you about it after the race.


The tall socks are Running Skirts "Run Love" compression socks, because let's face it....  I love socks almost as much as I love my run.

So there you go.  


I am channeling Daphne from Scooby Doo.


well, either that, or I'm channeling the Mystery Machine.  


...I really think it could go either way.


And seriously, no matter how you look at it, I should be visible in race day... which will make stalking me easier.


Or, if you're stalking online, it won't matter what I'm wearing.... my race # is 2297.  

Water Boarding

if there's a hell on earth... and it exists in "Levels"...

Then in my world...

The 1st Ring of Hell would have to be sitting through Beauty Pageants.  I've done a few, and they're torture.  Painful experience that lasts a few too many hours with few redeeming qualities.

The 2nd Ring of Hell is most definitely my shower on a day when the Body Glide, running bra & I have lost a battle in the "chafe war".

I'm not sure about Ring 3.... but the 4th Ring of Hell is any Emergency Room with your own child.  Time slows to a crawl, worry eats away at your soul, truly, is there anything that a mother finds more hellish?

Well... there's always The 5th ring of Hell ... the segment of I-95 that passes through CT.  Add a beige minivan and some Disney music to the construction and NY drivers, and you've certainly got something that qualifies as torture.

For SURE though, I know now, for me the 6th Ring of Hell is a Water Park.

TORTURE of the WORST KIND.

I don't love myself in swim wear.  I mean, it's not horrible, but no one really wants to see me in a 2 piece bathing suit all day... though that said, that's what I wore, because my skirt has pockets, and I hate to be without pockets....and no, there are no photos, nor will there ever be photos...

Adding to the awkwardness is that at a water park there's a better than good chance you're going to be surrounded by people in swim wear.  All day.

Many of the swim wear wearing people are lovely.  They're usually the ones in one pieces though.  With sarongs.

The other 89% of the people out parking at the water park eating funnel cakes dusted in powdered sugar are... yeah. and then.  uh huh.  I hate to judge.  I'm not here to judge.  I'm just... I mean...  Listen people, if you're not SURE that the bathing suit covers your entire "nip", you REALLY should look for one with a bit more to it.  And if the top isn't 100% covering your ...ah... twins, then let's REALLY take a minute here to evaluate the coverage on the bottoms... shall we?  Maybe, at the VERY least we could just go up a size?  or 3.  AND TRULY there is NOTHING wrong with wearing a sarong or skirt or blue 6X6 tarp over your suit for the comfort of all the people sharing your space.

And while we're on the topic of space sharing, can we just touch on the subject of conversation topics?

Appropriate conversation topics for a family water park do not generally require the abbreviation of the words "Birth Control"... nor do they usually include the words "screwing" or "e'ffing" and if it happens that your sister is a "whore" with multiple boyfriends, I really. REALLY. do not need to hear about it in the 3 minutes it takes my kids to go up a flight of stairs, wait in line, and slide down a slide on an inner tube.

Longest 3 minutes of my life.

An Open Letter To Henrico Co.

Dear Residents of Western Henrico,

Please accept my sincere apologies for breaking GBA Running Rule #1 on Saturday.

I have excuses.  They include chaffing, heat, and more chaffing.  None of them are good enough to justify running through suburbia in just a sports bra, skirt & socks.

I will try to be more mindful of the GBA Rules when laying out my clothes in the future.

Regards,
GBA gf.