This blog is for any runner who loves zombies and pugs as much as I do. If you don't care for either of those things, then stay anyway while I complain about how hilly running in PA is - seriously, I can't go a mile without an incline.
I’m the first to admit that I have no idea how hard it is to put on a race of any size. I briefly considered starting a 5k in my area, but after realizing that it involves a lot more effort than I was wanted to put in (I was only willing to send out one email), I nixed that little plan. So I respect every race director and the tireless dedication that goes into planning a competitive event.
That being said (ahem)- when you state on the website to post race times up the next day, I would hope to see my world record breaking time up there the next day. I ran a local 5k on Memorial Day and despite the unexpected mountain I had to run up at mile 2 (I can’t reiterate how much I need to do race research before slapping down my registration fee), the race was wonderful and it felt good to complete another race without any pain. Although a 5k isn’t my favorite distance, seeing as speed is the key factor in that event, completing any race at this point colors my world in roses. (The Alabaster Runner, his brother, and myself have signed up the Myrtle Mini Marathon in October – I’m not ashamed to say it was a decision made solely because of the honking big finisher’s medal).
I have a rough estimate of this race time, my PR for a 5k is 25:47 and I knew with having some lingering knee issues and just starting up running again, I wasn’t going to be breaking that PR time. I was shooting for sub 30 and considering that I was looking for a swift (and inconspicuous – those volunteers were eyeing me like a villian) exit at the bottom of the hill, I’ll take anything even close to 30 minutes. So cut to today and I’m refreshing the results page like I don’t have an actual job I should be doing, and still no results.
Realizing that I was getting unnaturally agitated about the missing results (to be fair, they still have six hours to post to remain in compliance with their website statement); I’m going to give myself a 5k time until I see something otherwise.
Theresa S. FemaleAge-2721:18
Holy dukes! I PR-ed with a 21:18! (Maybe I can live without factual results).
This past Saturday I participated in the Mills Adventure Run with my husband, Travis, and older brother, Mikey. Here are the key facts you need to know about this dastardly race:
I was able to run the 5k without my arches or knees hurting in the slightest from PF.
Unfortunately, I completely COMPLETELY COMPLETELY underestimated the rapid deterioration rate of fitness sans running. Apparently when I don’t run for two months, a three mile obstacle race is the equivalent of Badwater. (I don’t know if I’m allowed to ever compare the level of race difficulty between a ‘local fun run’ and something ultra marathoner Scott Jurek called “hell on earth”, but here we are).
I greatly enjoyed the atmosphere of a small race, approximately 100 people signed up and 70 showed. And of those 70, about 64 of them looked really bada**. I just looked like someone who should have slathered on some tinted moisturizer.
My brother smoked before and after the race. This fact isn’t pertinent knowledge, but it still blows my mind.
Mikey also has the worst shoelaces ever, he had to stop and retie them six times in the span of thirty five minutes. Trust me when I say that other runners took notice and murmured in agreement about sailors’ knots.
The obstacles were much tougher than the 10k Merrell Mud Run in Philly, which surprised me because this event was so low key. An eight foot wall hurdle is quite intimating when you’re only 5’4.
I assumed someone would be manning a water station at the end of the race.
Water station? That was adorably naïve.
I didn’t properly do my race research (yet again) and wasn’t prepared for the water obstacle. I thought it was, at most, treading through ankle deep water – it was actually sloshing through waist high water on slippery rocks.
I took an embarrassing fall in the water obstacle. Dukes!
My dad caught the fall on camera. Double dukes!
The first forty runners across the finish line got awesome beer mugs.
Naturally, I was #41.
Even though I missed out on the beer mug by one person – some girl, who shamelessly flirted with both my brother and husband, passed me (skaaaaaaank) – I had a great time. My only complaint with the race organization was lack of water at the finish; otherwise it was a pleasantly intimate and well run race. Without hesitation I will run this event again.
I never expected to run the entire race without any hint of pain, much less get so close to being in the top forty (and I’m quite aware that being in the top forty out of seventy is not worthy of an Olive Garden celebration, but that’s a discussion between me and my future waiter). My dad, little sister and brother, were all in attendance as well. Swweeet!
And, for those interested, I did beat my arch nemesis, Mikey. But I’m pretty sure he let me.
Despite various warnings from extremely credible sources, I decided to keep my hotel reservation and run the Cherry Blossom 10 miler yesterday in D.C. The alabaster runner had prior work obligations so I was going solo on this race – which suited me just nicely – I needed redemption from the Shamrock Marathon and an easy ten mile run would give me some runners’ pride back. I can’t even think of shamrocks now without quietly rationalizing that maybe the ending scene of “Saw” where Cary Elwes chops his own foot off isn’t that crazy after all.
I arrived in D.C. and settled into my room at the amazing Hyatt Hotel – yes, it is the host hotel and although I did recently comment about less than stellar host hotels, this reservation had been in the works for months prior to that post. Canceling would have been downright wasteful, especially when there is a Starbucks right in the hotel lobby. I’m a reasonable person – soy latte please.
I made haste to the expo because while I was busy getting lost in downtown D.C. earlier (really, no left hand turning signals….I call bullshit), I had discovered that the line to the expo wrapped around the building on all four sides. That was something to look forward to. As I stood in line I thought about how nice the weekend was turning out to be and I looked up to see the clouds take on a nice darker blue/gray hue. Without warning the wind started blowing furiously and the sky opened up to release the equivalent of Noah’s Ark rain on everyone waiting innocently for our race packets. And by rain, I mean buckets of small angry hail. Looking around at the few individuals around me that did have umbrellas (and enough sense to access weather.com); I cursed myself for not doing my elementary weather research more thoroughly. Don’t just look up the weather the day of the race you fool! I was even more dismayed to remember that I had experimented with the smoky eye look that morning, which now dissolved into more of a “heroin whore” palette with mascara dripping everywhere.
This post is already getting lengthy – and I haven’t even gotten into the expo yet – I’m going to speed this up. The expo was great and I now know the better part of D.C.’s Chinatown. I don’t know how I got lost within a one mile radius but I did. Save your applause for the end people, it's embaressing otherwise.
The Race
With over 20,000 runners, organization is obviously key for a major race, and Cherry Blossom was on top of their shyt. I didn’t have to wait for bag check and everything flowed to the exact scheduled minute. No matter what else you take away from reading this post, the Cherry Blossom is a coveted race for a reason – it rocks. The volunteers are friendly and didn’t mind telling me several times over how I cannot have the medal mailed to me if I leave now.
Honestly, one of the best parts of racing is listening to the conversations around you while in the corral. I heard how some people were under-trained, others were first time racers, many were veterans of the Cherry Blossom, and a select few mentioned a nagging injury that might complicate a victory (actually, that was just me bitching to the girl next to me who innocently asked how I was doing). That’s how the orange wave rolls.
For the first three miles I felt amazing, I couldn’t believe I almost cancelled running this race due to the opinion of a few people who clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. My heel was doing just fine, thank you – take your concerns elsewhere Dr. Stelmach of Apple Hill Podiatry. I have my suspicions about the validity of your “medical license” anyway. At mile 3.5 I even kicked it into high gear to set that land speed record of a 9 m/m pace. Balls to the wall!
Well to settle the most basic human question, God does exist because his sense of cruel humor at mile four had my Achilles chugging along like a champion; it was my left knee that ruined my chances of the Olympic trials….et tu Brute? It was terrifying and painful while I limped off the course three times to work out the kinks (that’s what they call excruciating injuries nowadays right, kinks?) I seriously considered taking the dreaded DNF and having a super fun ambulance ride back the hotel. I wasn't that thrilled to experiment with the metro line in any case.
Honestly, it probably would have played out like that too if I hadn’t just passed the closest medical tent – another one wouldn’t be coming up for a couple of miles. My Einstein brain bargained with my screaming knee that if I got the next medical tent and conditions didn't improve, I would drop out and tell everyone a Kenyan pushed me. Otherwise…..I would gut it out and pray that someone severely mislabeled the mile markers.
At the halfway mark I was still managing a 10 m/m and was able to run through the pain so the decision was made to finish out this race. Plus I had prepaid for the medal. In the last three miles the pain even subsided enough for me to enjoy the scenery and make small talk with the other runners keeping pace (I talked to a lot of AARP people at this point and was passed by the completely underestimated wheelchair division of the race). When I saw the National Monument I almost cried with happiness. I finished the race strong and in a respectable time table for someone with several injuries (). Screw your bran muffins and bananas, give me my medal.
And the banana. I’m pretty hungry actually.
The Aftermath
I managed not to limp to the hotel, which was fortunate considering an unusually high amount of runners caught up with me and asked how I liked my vibrams. I thought it would look bad on my part to be caught in a Quasimodo shuffle but answering, “Oh, they’re great, just ease into them. No problems whatsoever …..move along now – I hear the 5 Guys and Fries opens soon, don’t want to miss that!”
When I finally got home the severity of my injuries increased dramatically as I nearly suplexed my adorable pug into a wall when she hopped onto my knee. Filling bags of ice and wincing in agony pretty much took up the rest of my Sunday evening (keep your jealousy at bay people, I can’t help but live the wild James Bond lifestyle). My left knee and my right heel are calling the shots now – neither one is a real big fan of walking, which leaves me in an awkward stride today at work. I made an appointment with my foot doctor today because I want to hear the “I told your dumba** not to run any races” in person and figure out the extent of my damages.
I want to end this post very simply though: If I had to go back in time and decide whether or not to run the Cherry Blossom, I would still do it all over again.
Edit: Since visiting said foot doctor, it's prescribed that I wear a small arch brace all day, go to physical therapy for the next few weeks, and intimately know my strasburg sock at night. To add more pain to this, I got my issue of Runners World in the mail today - damn you and your inhuman legs Kara Goucher!
