Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Not One But TWO Potential RBF-fests
Are you listening closely, RBF (Running Blog Family)??
There are two cool race opportunities for Northeast RBF gatherings coming up this summer.
The first race, the 44th Annual Ocean Beach John J. Kelley Road Race, honors Johnny Kelley, the winner of Boston in 1957 and high school coach of Amby Burfoot, Runner's World editor and 1968 Boston winner. My attention was drawn to this particular race courtesy of Scooter. Scooter is planning on being at this race and would love to connect with some other RBFers. Plus, I heard a rumor that he might "know people who know people," in case you are interested in rubbing elbows with running legends.
Details:
Date: Saturday, August 5th - 9:00 AM
Entry fee: Free! Be sure to get your entry in early, as they send your race number via mail a week prior to the race!
Location: Ocean Beach Park, New London, CT (free parking)
Distance: 11.6 miles - described as mostly flat with one hill at 8 - (Scooter described the course as gently rolling with a SERIOUS hill at 8 - a long, steady grinder taking most of a mile.)
Race app: http://www.moheganstriders.org/downloads/KelleyRace06.pdf
I plan on being there - come join us! **Edited to add: Sprite reminds me to "...be sure to mention that this is one of Connecticut's hidden gems of a beach and fun for the whole family. In addition to the beach itself, it also includes a pool and a playground for kids. It even has mini golf. So after you're done running, you can soak up the sun and sand and make a day of it!" Thanks Sprite!
The second race is the New Haven Road Race on September 4 (Labor Day) which is the official Mens' and Womens' USATF 20K National Championship race and attracts big-name runners like Meb Keflezighi, Ryan Shay and Collen De Rueck.
The 20K course is flat and fast, and the support along the course, including the number of water stops, is awesome -- especially given the size of the race (around 2000 runners).
In addition to the 20K, there is also a 5K race that starts at the same time and heads in the opposite direction, on it's own flat, fast course. Plus, there's a 1/2 mile Kid's race too! Fun for the whole family!
We had nine RBFers there last year, and we had a blast. This is, HANDS DOWN, my all time favorite race of the year. ***Edited to add: AND LET'S NOT FORGET THE DELICIOUS FREE BEER FOR RUNNERS AT THE END!! It's the best beer you'll have all summer. (Thanks Michelle -- not sure how I overlooked *that* part!)
If you'd like to join in the fun, let me know so I can keep track of everyone! I'll do my best to be a good ambassador and answer questions about area lodging, the race course, etc.
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There are two cool race opportunities for Northeast RBF gatherings coming up this summer.
The first race, the 44th Annual Ocean Beach John J. Kelley Road Race, honors Johnny Kelley, the winner of Boston in 1957 and high school coach of Amby Burfoot, Runner's World editor and 1968 Boston winner. My attention was drawn to this particular race courtesy of Scooter. Scooter is planning on being at this race and would love to connect with some other RBFers. Plus, I heard a rumor that he might "know people who know people," in case you are interested in rubbing elbows with running legends.
Details:
Date: Saturday, August 5th - 9:00 AM
Entry fee: Free! Be sure to get your entry in early, as they send your race number via mail a week prior to the race!
Location: Ocean Beach Park, New London, CT (free parking)
Distance: 11.6 miles - described as mostly flat with one hill at 8 - (Scooter described the course as gently rolling with a SERIOUS hill at 8 - a long, steady grinder taking most of a mile.)
Race app: http://www.moheganstriders.org/downloads/KelleyRace06.pdf
I plan on being there - come join us! **Edited to add: Sprite reminds me to "...be sure to mention that this is one of Connecticut's hidden gems of a beach and fun for the whole family. In addition to the beach itself, it also includes a pool and a playground for kids. It even has mini golf. So after you're done running, you can soak up the sun and sand and make a day of it!" Thanks Sprite!
The second race is the New Haven Road Race on September 4 (Labor Day) which is the official Mens' and Womens' USATF 20K National Championship race and attracts big-name runners like Meb Keflezighi, Ryan Shay and Collen De Rueck.
The 20K course is flat and fast, and the support along the course, including the number of water stops, is awesome -- especially given the size of the race (around 2000 runners).
In addition to the 20K, there is also a 5K race that starts at the same time and heads in the opposite direction, on it's own flat, fast course. Plus, there's a 1/2 mile Kid's race too! Fun for the whole family!
We had nine RBFers there last year, and we had a blast. This is, HANDS DOWN, my all time favorite race of the year. ***Edited to add: AND LET'S NOT FORGET THE DELICIOUS FREE BEER FOR RUNNERS AT THE END!! It's the best beer you'll have all summer. (Thanks Michelle -- not sure how I overlooked *that* part!)
If you'd like to join in the fun, let me know so I can keep track of everyone! I'll do my best to be a good ambassador and answer questions about area lodging, the race course, etc.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Tri Relay Photos
Gary, one of our *two* event photographers, shared these photos with us.
(Heh. What can we say? We were a well supported team. Next year, we're accepting sponsorships too.)
Enjoy!
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(Heh. What can we say? We were a well supported team. Next year, we're accepting sponsorships too.)
Enjoy!
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Griskus Tri Relay Race Report
Griskus Tri Relay Race Report
Saturday at 4:30 a.m. comes very, very early after a restless night's "sleep."
When the alarm went off, I questioned my sanity and wondered what made me agree to be the 'anchor' for the 10K portion of an Olympic distance triathlon.
Then I remembered why I said yes: because my two relay partners -- Heather and Joan -- are amazing, inspiring, upbeat women-athletes, who I admire and adore and love to be around.
I managed to get to the race at our specified meeting time of 6:15 a.m. and the only thing I forgot to pack was Gatorade. Registration was a breeze, and by 6:30 we had our 'body markings' and we were ready to go! (I had Joan add a special marking that said "For F.W." to my arm, to honor a family friend who recently passed away.)
Heather got herself stuffed into a borrowed wetsuit (after being told by other athletes in the bathroom that she originally had it on backwards. Heh.) and we headed down to the beach to check out the lake.
Nice calm waters...perfectly flat, and not too cold. But damn, those buoys looked really far away. I determined that one mile on a lake looks even farther than on land and marveled at Heather’s bravery. This was her first race swim!
We giggled at Heather as we watched her make friends with her fellow competitors, while waiting for her swim wave to go off - she even had race staff members helping her with her wetsuit. The swim start looked respectable and reasonable with swimmers spreading out and seeding themselves appropriately.
We watched some swimmers go hopelessly off course while waiting anxiously for Heather to return to the shore. As the first woman came out of the water, Joan hustled up to the transition area to wait for Heather for the chip "hand off."
After seemingly endless minutes of bouncing up and down, searching for our swimmer - she appeared at the edge of the beach after 34:51! She looked a little shell-shocked at first (as if she was thinking 'oh my God did I just *do* that?!'), but when we all started to scream her name, she gave us a little smile, got pumped and ran up the beach to get into the transition area.
I ran up to transition to cheer on Joan as she mounted her bike and set off to hammer the 25 mile hilly course. It was one long loop, so there was no way for me to gauge her progress. We estimated that it would take her between 1:25-1:40, so I planned my pre-race warm-up and 'routine' around that estimate.
After an hour of waiting, I warmed up with 1.50 miles of slow, easy jogging. As I came back in to the transition area, I ran and got a Gu and headed to the bathroom one last time. I had at least 10 minutes to go.
Or so I thought.
As I came out of the bathroom, I noticed that our cheering section was no longer in their seats. I looked over at the transition area and could hear Joan screaming my name!! Oh no! She came in too early!
I started yelling at her as I flew over the transition - 'What are you doing here?! You said an hour and forty minutes!! You LIED!! I TOLD YOU that you'd be faster!!' I had to hustle over to grab my number belt from our 'support crew' and ran over to meet Joan. I threw my uneaten Gu at her while continuing to 'yell' at her. We were laughing hysterically as I tore off my singlet and she slapped the chip strap to my ankle while I turned on my foot-pod. I tore out of transition and hit a 6:30 pace in all the excitement. Once I cleared the race area, I calmed down and brought my pace to a more reasonable 7:30 – I had to remind myself that this wasn’t just a 5K.
(Turned out that the bike course was a bit short, and Joan came in at 1:21:01. It costs us 1:43 in transition time…instead of normal relay 0:30. Heh.)
The course was an out and back 3.1 miles loop that we had to do twice - the same loop they use for the sprint distance tri held in July. It started with some flat road, then headed downhill, then uphill and then the turn-around...which meant downhill and then up, again...before the flat.
On the first loop, I tried to get a feel for the course, and held back on my speed to avoid burning out too soon. This was my first time doing a 10K, so I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Coach and I had decided that I should shoot for a pace in the 7:35-7:45 range, based on my 7.4 mile trail race time a month ago.
As always, I made friends along the way. I fell in step with one guy who inquired about our pace, and he was pleasantly surprised, and motivated, when I told him we were holding a solid 7:30 pace. We hit 1.5 mile turn-around together and he pulled away. It was his second loop and he was on a mission to destroy that last hill. I held back. That hill was mean and dirty and I knew I needed to tackle it twice.
I felt like a bit of a fraud out there, since I was only a 'relay' person. I had fresh legs and a fresh attitude while the 'real' competitors were getting through the last part of a tough course. I passed another relay person and joked with her about feeling bad about it, and she said that she'd put in enough time doing full tri's that she was happy to be just be doing relay. A guy nearby remarked that he wished HE was doing the relay, and then told his buddy that he hoped the race organizers added in more hills for next year. The sarcasm was overwhelming. (Note: I saw this same guy after the race…and watched him pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Heh.)
I came up to the 3.0 mile turn-around to start the second loop and it was so fun to have a cheering section screaming my name! I was feeling great, even after the Stupid Hill, and was ready to pour on a little more. Smooth and steady.
Throughout the race, I thought about three things mostly: the comment by Drew that I highlighted in my last post, the encouragement and instruction from my coach and our family friend that I was honoring with my race.
I was *not* having fun. I *did* pump my arms and breathe deeply. I flew down the hills, and that felt so amazing since I haven't been flying down hills much since the whole ITB issue erupted. I hit a 6:30 pace on the down hills and could have gone faster, I'm sure. I heard Coach in my head, telling me to keep the pace around 7:35-7:45 and to pour it on for the second loop if I could. I knew Coach would be proud no matter what.
And I thought about Frank (F.W.)...our sweet, quirky, creative, intelligent, funny Frank...with his browned, crinkly sun-exposed skin and his adorable smile. I spent many summer days at his beach house, lounging on the breakwater wall that was the edge of his yard. The house, like its owner, was charming with crooked stairs and nooks and crannies. I would beg my parents to let me sleep over and Frank would let me choose between sleeping outside (!) on the second story porch or in my *own* room, in a bed with crisp white linens. There was nothing like falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing, in the salty-misty air.
As I flew down the Stupid Hill (again), I pictured Frank sitting on his back porch with a Campari in one hand and long, slim cigarette in the other, telling outrageous stories and laughing his big laugh. He had such an enthusiasm for life. I ran for him, knowing that he would have gotten such a kick out of me doing something like that...and probably would have called me crazy too.
I pushed up the Stupid Hill one last time, and did not have fun while I was doing that either. There were two signs at the top of the hill: 'I paid $ for THIS?' and 'That HURT!' - I could not have agreed more with either sentiment. As soon as I crested the 'sticking point' of the hill, I turned on the burners and started picking people off (I felt a small twinge of guilt passing people). Before I hit the finish line, I had dropped my pace to a 6:40 or less and was feeling strong - I was almost disappointed that the race was over so soon.
I hit the finish line and stopped my watch. I was a little...OK, A LOT...surprised that my watch said 44:48. That can't be right for a 10K.
And I was right. The course was short. My foot-pod, which is pretty accurate, said 5.90 miles. I heard later that other folks questioned the mileage. They re-designed the course this year, and I think they forgot to include the distance from the 'Run Out' part of the transition area to the start of the 'loop.' If we had run all the way back to the chip mat to complete each loop, we would have been right on target for the 6.1 miles.
Sigh. So I still don't have an official 10K time, but I did maintain an average pace of 7:33 per mile which made me pretty happy - especially with the utter lack of sleep this week and the Stupid Hill (twice).
I felt awesome, my ITB didn't say One. Single. Word. through the whole race and I am getting remarkably better at pacing myself.
More importantly, I had a wonderful time with my partners, I was able to honor a friend and I actually made it to the start line of this race.
It was a good day!
(Happy Father's Day, Dad!)
|
Saturday at 4:30 a.m. comes very, very early after a restless night's "sleep."
When the alarm went off, I questioned my sanity and wondered what made me agree to be the 'anchor' for the 10K portion of an Olympic distance triathlon.
Then I remembered why I said yes: because my two relay partners -- Heather and Joan -- are amazing, inspiring, upbeat women-athletes, who I admire and adore and love to be around.
I managed to get to the race at our specified meeting time of 6:15 a.m. and the only thing I forgot to pack was Gatorade. Registration was a breeze, and by 6:30 we had our 'body markings' and we were ready to go! (I had Joan add a special marking that said "For F.W." to my arm, to honor a family friend who recently passed away.)
Heather got herself stuffed into a borrowed wetsuit (after being told by other athletes in the bathroom that she originally had it on backwards. Heh.) and we headed down to the beach to check out the lake.
Nice calm waters...perfectly flat, and not too cold. But damn, those buoys looked really far away. I determined that one mile on a lake looks even farther than on land and marveled at Heather’s bravery. This was her first race swim!
We giggled at Heather as we watched her make friends with her fellow competitors, while waiting for her swim wave to go off - she even had race staff members helping her with her wetsuit. The swim start looked respectable and reasonable with swimmers spreading out and seeding themselves appropriately.
We watched some swimmers go hopelessly off course while waiting anxiously for Heather to return to the shore. As the first woman came out of the water, Joan hustled up to the transition area to wait for Heather for the chip "hand off."
After seemingly endless minutes of bouncing up and down, searching for our swimmer - she appeared at the edge of the beach after 34:51! She looked a little shell-shocked at first (as if she was thinking 'oh my God did I just *do* that?!'), but when we all started to scream her name, she gave us a little smile, got pumped and ran up the beach to get into the transition area.
I ran up to transition to cheer on Joan as she mounted her bike and set off to hammer the 25 mile hilly course. It was one long loop, so there was no way for me to gauge her progress. We estimated that it would take her between 1:25-1:40, so I planned my pre-race warm-up and 'routine' around that estimate.
After an hour of waiting, I warmed up with 1.50 miles of slow, easy jogging. As I came back in to the transition area, I ran and got a Gu and headed to the bathroom one last time. I had at least 10 minutes to go.
Or so I thought.
As I came out of the bathroom, I noticed that our cheering section was no longer in their seats. I looked over at the transition area and could hear Joan screaming my name!! Oh no! She came in too early!
I started yelling at her as I flew over the transition - 'What are you doing here?! You said an hour and forty minutes!! You LIED!! I TOLD YOU that you'd be faster!!' I had to hustle over to grab my number belt from our 'support crew' and ran over to meet Joan. I threw my uneaten Gu at her while continuing to 'yell' at her. We were laughing hysterically as I tore off my singlet and she slapped the chip strap to my ankle while I turned on my foot-pod. I tore out of transition and hit a 6:30 pace in all the excitement. Once I cleared the race area, I calmed down and brought my pace to a more reasonable 7:30 – I had to remind myself that this wasn’t just a 5K.
(Turned out that the bike course was a bit short, and Joan came in at 1:21:01. It costs us 1:43 in transition time…instead of normal relay 0:30. Heh.)
The course was an out and back 3.1 miles loop that we had to do twice - the same loop they use for the sprint distance tri held in July. It started with some flat road, then headed downhill, then uphill and then the turn-around...which meant downhill and then up, again...before the flat.
On the first loop, I tried to get a feel for the course, and held back on my speed to avoid burning out too soon. This was my first time doing a 10K, so I wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Coach and I had decided that I should shoot for a pace in the 7:35-7:45 range, based on my 7.4 mile trail race time a month ago.
As always, I made friends along the way. I fell in step with one guy who inquired about our pace, and he was pleasantly surprised, and motivated, when I told him we were holding a solid 7:30 pace. We hit 1.5 mile turn-around together and he pulled away. It was his second loop and he was on a mission to destroy that last hill. I held back. That hill was mean and dirty and I knew I needed to tackle it twice.
I felt like a bit of a fraud out there, since I was only a 'relay' person. I had fresh legs and a fresh attitude while the 'real' competitors were getting through the last part of a tough course. I passed another relay person and joked with her about feeling bad about it, and she said that she'd put in enough time doing full tri's that she was happy to be just be doing relay. A guy nearby remarked that he wished HE was doing the relay, and then told his buddy that he hoped the race organizers added in more hills for next year. The sarcasm was overwhelming. (Note: I saw this same guy after the race…and watched him pull a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Heh.)
I came up to the 3.0 mile turn-around to start the second loop and it was so fun to have a cheering section screaming my name! I was feeling great, even after the Stupid Hill, and was ready to pour on a little more. Smooth and steady.
Throughout the race, I thought about three things mostly: the comment by Drew that I highlighted in my last post, the encouragement and instruction from my coach and our family friend that I was honoring with my race.
I was *not* having fun. I *did* pump my arms and breathe deeply. I flew down the hills, and that felt so amazing since I haven't been flying down hills much since the whole ITB issue erupted. I hit a 6:30 pace on the down hills and could have gone faster, I'm sure. I heard Coach in my head, telling me to keep the pace around 7:35-7:45 and to pour it on for the second loop if I could. I knew Coach would be proud no matter what.
And I thought about Frank (F.W.)...our sweet, quirky, creative, intelligent, funny Frank...with his browned, crinkly sun-exposed skin and his adorable smile. I spent many summer days at his beach house, lounging on the breakwater wall that was the edge of his yard. The house, like its owner, was charming with crooked stairs and nooks and crannies. I would beg my parents to let me sleep over and Frank would let me choose between sleeping outside (!) on the second story porch or in my *own* room, in a bed with crisp white linens. There was nothing like falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing, in the salty-misty air.
As I flew down the Stupid Hill (again), I pictured Frank sitting on his back porch with a Campari in one hand and long, slim cigarette in the other, telling outrageous stories and laughing his big laugh. He had such an enthusiasm for life. I ran for him, knowing that he would have gotten such a kick out of me doing something like that...and probably would have called me crazy too.
I pushed up the Stupid Hill one last time, and did not have fun while I was doing that either. There were two signs at the top of the hill: 'I paid $ for THIS?' and 'That HURT!' - I could not have agreed more with either sentiment. As soon as I crested the 'sticking point' of the hill, I turned on the burners and started picking people off (I felt a small twinge of guilt passing people). Before I hit the finish line, I had dropped my pace to a 6:40 or less and was feeling strong - I was almost disappointed that the race was over so soon.
I hit the finish line and stopped my watch. I was a little...OK, A LOT...surprised that my watch said 44:48. That can't be right for a 10K.
And I was right. The course was short. My foot-pod, which is pretty accurate, said 5.90 miles. I heard later that other folks questioned the mileage. They re-designed the course this year, and I think they forgot to include the distance from the 'Run Out' part of the transition area to the start of the 'loop.' If we had run all the way back to the chip mat to complete each loop, we would have been right on target for the 6.1 miles.
Sigh. So I still don't have an official 10K time, but I did maintain an average pace of 7:33 per mile which made me pretty happy - especially with the utter lack of sleep this week and the Stupid Hill (twice).
I felt awesome, my ITB didn't say One. Single. Word. through the whole race and I am getting remarkably better at pacing myself.
More importantly, I had a wonderful time with my partners, I was able to honor a friend and I actually made it to the start line of this race.
It was a good day!
(Happy Father's Day, Dad!)
Thursday, June 15, 2006
"Do not have fun"
Health Update (because I know you're all worried): I'm back to 'normal' (relative term, really). My appetite has returned and I've gained a whole pound. My pants are still baggier than I'd like (how many people ever get to say *that*!)...but I'm feeling stronger. So strong in fact, that I've kicked off tri-training season with a bang this week. More on that later.
For now, please enjoy the comment (see below) written by Drew that he left for Donald regarding Donald's pre-race Dipsea post (Donald's post race report was hilarious):
***
I've been meaning to write something about the Dipsea, but haven't been able to put the right words down. Fact is I don't understand what this race means to you. I haven't been through the grinder you have described so eloquently and I haven't experienced the anticipation and humiliation of this rigorous journey, I'm left feeling inadequate to wish you luck or Godspeed because I understand that this race means more than you can adequately describe. I understand what it's like, but I don't understand what it's like for you.
Have an excellent race. Push forward when you want to step back. Run harder than you think you can and faster than you think you're able. Blast through the weeds and the boughs and the sticks and the runnners when you have to. Twist your ankle and move on. Scrape your legs and your arms and your face and jump forward faster and stronger. Lean forward on the uphill and swing your arms and breathe deeply of everything that brought you here. Lengthen your stride and fly on the downhills.
Fly!
Run faster when it hurts and forget about what you can't do. This is your race.
Do not have fun.
I do not wish you luck.
Fun and luck have nothing to do with it in the end. You'll be pushing yourself through miles of discomfort and pain. Let the fun come afterward because come race time you'll be ready for nothing less than a battle.
A battle you won't win.
A battle you can't win.
You won't come in first, or second or 100th. You go to battle assured of loss, but you will lose less this time. And you will lose less next time. And if you lose enough, you may come to appreciate how little you've lost, and how much you've gained without ever winning.
Champions always show up for the fight.
Most champions never win.
Godspeed Donald!
***
I love this comment! It rings so true. Especially the 'Do not have fun" part. I mean, if I'm honest with myself, then no, I actually don't have "fun" while I'm racing. Usually, it's torture that I endure so I can enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that comes with a race run with my whole entire being, heart and soul. The "fun" part of the race - for me - comes after the finish line, when I bask in the glow of my effort and visit with old and new running friends and their supporters.
I've got a race on Saturday and I promise, I won't have fun. Not until I cross that line. And stop gasping for air.
|
For now, please enjoy the comment (see below) written by Drew that he left for Donald regarding Donald's pre-race Dipsea post (Donald's post race report was hilarious):
***
I've been meaning to write something about the Dipsea, but haven't been able to put the right words down. Fact is I don't understand what this race means to you. I haven't been through the grinder you have described so eloquently and I haven't experienced the anticipation and humiliation of this rigorous journey, I'm left feeling inadequate to wish you luck or Godspeed because I understand that this race means more than you can adequately describe. I understand what it's like, but I don't understand what it's like for you.
Have an excellent race. Push forward when you want to step back. Run harder than you think you can and faster than you think you're able. Blast through the weeds and the boughs and the sticks and the runnners when you have to. Twist your ankle and move on. Scrape your legs and your arms and your face and jump forward faster and stronger. Lean forward on the uphill and swing your arms and breathe deeply of everything that brought you here. Lengthen your stride and fly on the downhills.
Fly!
Run faster when it hurts and forget about what you can't do. This is your race.
Do not have fun.
I do not wish you luck.
Fun and luck have nothing to do with it in the end. You'll be pushing yourself through miles of discomfort and pain. Let the fun come afterward because come race time you'll be ready for nothing less than a battle.
A battle you won't win.
A battle you can't win.
You won't come in first, or second or 100th. You go to battle assured of loss, but you will lose less this time. And you will lose less next time. And if you lose enough, you may come to appreciate how little you've lost, and how much you've gained without ever winning.
Champions always show up for the fight.
Most champions never win.
Godspeed Donald!
***
I love this comment! It rings so true. Especially the 'Do not have fun" part. I mean, if I'm honest with myself, then no, I actually don't have "fun" while I'm racing. Usually, it's torture that I endure so I can enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that comes with a race run with my whole entire being, heart and soul. The "fun" part of the race - for me - comes after the finish line, when I bask in the glow of my effort and visit with old and new running friends and their supporters.
I've got a race on Saturday and I promise, I won't have fun. Not until I cross that line. And stop gasping for air.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Sick Happens
Thank you to *everyone* for your overwhelming support via comments and emails. There is no way for me to express how much it meant to hear from so many of you - even the lurkers came out!
Reflecting back on the events of the weekend, I want share my perspective with you.
Sick happens. Things happen. You do what you can do to prepare for an event and if you can make it to the start line and pour your heart out into your race, then you've raced well.
The rest is either "icing" - the good stuff that happens, or "adventure" - the less-than-good stuff that we can laugh about later. Usually, it's a combination of both.
I had icing and adventure this past weekend, and I'm really, truly OK with it all. I'm able to laugh about it, because honestly, what's the sense in being angry/upset/disappointed/etc?
There was nothing I could do to change what happened, so there's no reason to dwell on it. I had a few weepy moments of "poor me" on Saturday and Sunday, but I had to deal with the race that I was handed. And this time, than meant not racing at all.
It helped that this race was really one for pure fun. I wasn't working hard towards a certain goal, I just wanted to run with April-Anne and the other RBFers. I was interested in experiencing a large-scale marathon.
It also helped that the race was in a city that I adore and I was staying with good friends that I love. It's not like I was out in the middle of nowhere, in a hotel, all by myself.
By *not* running the race, I don't have to worry about recovery and rebuilding. I can jump right back in to training. My legs will be fresh for the 10K leg of the tri-relay I'm doing next weekend. (My first 10K ever!)
I don't feel like my training will be wasted if I don't run a distance race. The training I had done this far has been useful to me for determining where I am with my ITB and my overall endurance. Every 20 mile run doesn't have to lead to a marathon.
For the moment, I'm still a little "under the weather" and I'm not as friendly with food as I'd like to be, but we're working to re-establish our relationship. On the plus side, I lost 5 pounds!
I've got another race "experience" under my belt, and now I'm moving forward, and looking forward to the next challenge.
ONWARD!
|
Reflecting back on the events of the weekend, I want share my perspective with you.
Sick happens. Things happen. You do what you can do to prepare for an event and if you can make it to the start line and pour your heart out into your race, then you've raced well.
The rest is either "icing" - the good stuff that happens, or "adventure" - the less-than-good stuff that we can laugh about later. Usually, it's a combination of both.
I had icing and adventure this past weekend, and I'm really, truly OK with it all. I'm able to laugh about it, because honestly, what's the sense in being angry/upset/disappointed/etc?
There was nothing I could do to change what happened, so there's no reason to dwell on it. I had a few weepy moments of "poor me" on Saturday and Sunday, but I had to deal with the race that I was handed. And this time, than meant not racing at all.
It helped that this race was really one for pure fun. I wasn't working hard towards a certain goal, I just wanted to run with April-Anne and the other RBFers. I was interested in experiencing a large-scale marathon.
It also helped that the race was in a city that I adore and I was staying with good friends that I love. It's not like I was out in the middle of nowhere, in a hotel, all by myself.
By *not* running the race, I don't have to worry about recovery and rebuilding. I can jump right back in to training. My legs will be fresh for the 10K leg of the tri-relay I'm doing next weekend. (My first 10K ever!)
I don't feel like my training will be wasted if I don't run a distance race. The training I had done this far has been useful to me for determining where I am with my ITB and my overall endurance. Every 20 mile run doesn't have to lead to a marathon.
For the moment, I'm still a little "under the weather" and I'm not as friendly with food as I'd like to be, but we're working to re-establish our relationship. On the plus side, I lost 5 pounds!
I've got another race "experience" under my belt, and now I'm moving forward, and looking forward to the next challenge.
ONWARD!
Sunday, June 04, 2006
The Un-Race Report
Unbelieveably heartbreaking.
I'm not sure what's worse - a DNF (Did Not Finish) or a DNS (Did Not Start) but for me, right now, the DNS feels pretty awful.
After 4 months of training, 2 massages, a plane trip across the country, logistical issues and countless good wishes, I am *not* running in the marathon that I've been looking forward to since January.
At this very minute, when I *should* be running along side April-Anne, somwhere around mile 8 or 9, I'm sitting at my friend's condo in La Jolla, asking "Why me?"
Everything was going according to the plan until dinner on Friday night. I noticed that I felt uncomfortably full after our homemade Mexican feast. We took a walk to try to stimulate the digestive process, but I still felt pretty sick to stomach. I went to bed, writing the whole thing off to gluttony and menstruation, and tried to get some sleep.
I tossed and turned until 3:00 a.m. Then I started tossing dinner. It was ugly. I'll spare you the details but let's just say that it involved the simultaneous use of the toilet and a garbage pail. This went on for about 45 minutes before I crawled back in to bed.
Maybe that was all it was...maybe I just ate too much and needed to get that out.
Nope. I woke up later with a fever, feeling terrible. I was able to drink water and gatorade, but food was out of the question. There was no more vomiting, but still many trips to the bathroom.
I managed to muster up the energy to go pick up my race packet and stop by the RBF-lunch fest to say 'Hello.' I didn't want anyone to touch me, which broke my heart because I had hugs to give. By the time I got back from that, I had to take a nap. And thank goodness Andrea drove me or I never would have made it there and back.
Things were not looking good.
I told myself that if I could eat dinner, then I could run the race. Or at least make it to the start line.
I tried to choke down some soup, but all I could manage to eat was the broth.
At that moment, I knew it was over. There was no way I could run the marathon without any food in my system. It had been 24 hours since I'd eaten last.
I cried a bit, frustrated by the turn of events. Telling my husband and April-Anne that I wasn't going to run was the hardest part...having to say the words out loud was just too much.
But, at least I'm in San Diego, spending time with good friends, and *not* at work. I don't care about the non-refundable race fee, and I can give my race shirt to April-Anne. We're heading over to the finish area, to cheer folks on and hear their stories. Plus, I've managed to eat half a banana, so that's a good sign.
Out of 24,000 race entrants, someone had to get sick. I guess it was my turn. This just means that my next marathon will go off without a hitch.
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I'm not sure what's worse - a DNF (Did Not Finish) or a DNS (Did Not Start) but for me, right now, the DNS feels pretty awful.
After 4 months of training, 2 massages, a plane trip across the country, logistical issues and countless good wishes, I am *not* running in the marathon that I've been looking forward to since January.
At this very minute, when I *should* be running along side April-Anne, somwhere around mile 8 or 9, I'm sitting at my friend's condo in La Jolla, asking "Why me?"
Everything was going according to the plan until dinner on Friday night. I noticed that I felt uncomfortably full after our homemade Mexican feast. We took a walk to try to stimulate the digestive process, but I still felt pretty sick to stomach. I went to bed, writing the whole thing off to gluttony and menstruation, and tried to get some sleep.
I tossed and turned until 3:00 a.m. Then I started tossing dinner. It was ugly. I'll spare you the details but let's just say that it involved the simultaneous use of the toilet and a garbage pail. This went on for about 45 minutes before I crawled back in to bed.
Maybe that was all it was...maybe I just ate too much and needed to get that out.
Nope. I woke up later with a fever, feeling terrible. I was able to drink water and gatorade, but food was out of the question. There was no more vomiting, but still many trips to the bathroom.
I managed to muster up the energy to go pick up my race packet and stop by the RBF-lunch fest to say 'Hello.' I didn't want anyone to touch me, which broke my heart because I had hugs to give. By the time I got back from that, I had to take a nap. And thank goodness Andrea drove me or I never would have made it there and back.
Things were not looking good.
I told myself that if I could eat dinner, then I could run the race. Or at least make it to the start line.
I tried to choke down some soup, but all I could manage to eat was the broth.
At that moment, I knew it was over. There was no way I could run the marathon without any food in my system. It had been 24 hours since I'd eaten last.
I cried a bit, frustrated by the turn of events. Telling my husband and April-Anne that I wasn't going to run was the hardest part...having to say the words out loud was just too much.
But, at least I'm in San Diego, spending time with good friends, and *not* at work. I don't care about the non-refundable race fee, and I can give my race shirt to April-Anne. We're heading over to the finish area, to cheer folks on and hear their stories. Plus, I've managed to eat half a banana, so that's a good sign.
Out of 24,000 race entrants, someone had to get sick. I guess it was my turn. This just means that my next marathon will go off without a hitch.
