Category: running

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Throo The Zoo 5K – Louisville, KY (May 11, 2013)

Me crossing the finish line of the Throo The Zoo 5K - Louisville, Kentucky (Thanks for the pic, Kelsie!)
Me crossing the finish line of the Throo The Zoo 5K – Louisville, Kentucky (Thanks for the pic, Kelsie!)

Race: Throo The Zoo 5K

Place: Louisville Zoo, Louisville, Kentucky

Date: May 11, 2013

Time: 22:15

So, something happened last week when I was walking around the Mall of America on my last afternoon in Minneapolis.  Cathy and I stopped in just to scout out a few things…and while I was on the move in the Nike Store (of all places), I suddenly started to limp.  My outer thigh just sort of hurt.  A lot.  Bad enough to bring my even stride to a painful limp.  I tried to walk it off as much as possible…but damn…it hurt.  Bad.

I toughed it out…put on the “I’m not hurting” face and just trooped through the rest of the visit.  I went through airports without complaint.  I even did some early morning runs in the dark (where I can’t see the pavement in front of me) regardless of the pain in my leg.  I learned to endure the pain of my foam roller.  And Biofreeze was once again my friend.  Ibuprofen before bed.  Hope for the best.  And over the course of the past three days…my leg still hurt, but I felt that it might be improving.

That being said, I had signed up for the Throo The Zoo 5K months ago.  This is a fun race that winds through residential neighborhoods, populated streets, then through the Louisville Zoo for the last mile until it kicks you out and you make your dash to the finish line.  It has challenging hills at places and it just sort of is a fun run to do.

Granted, never have I been a good 5K runner.  I’m no sprinter and I never have a finishing kick.  I am better suited for longer distances.  Some runners just are.  I seem to be one of them.  But 5K races are still important and any runner will tell you that.  Some people, after taking on a half marathon think they can’t possibly go back to shorter races.  Embrace the shorter races…for that’s where you get your speed work.  Those are the races I end up enjoying the most.  I am not a 5K fan…but I still have a blast when I run them regardless.  Where else will I get my speedwork in?  I have yet to really work on that.  I think my friend Kelsie needs to teach me how she finds energy for her finishing kick she always manages.

This morning was rough.  My leg was feeling better than it has all week, so that was comforting.  Maybe I would survive this after all.  The goal this year is no injuries…and I’m doing my best to not push when I shouldn’t.  That’s why I dropped my mileage this week WAY down from what I have been running.  Run smart.  Run uninjured.  But, I got up at 5:00 a.m. to get dressed and get things taken care of around the apartment before the roomie was awake at 6:00 a.m.  I had to have coffee brewed and breakfast ready.  I even made a point of laying out the breakfast bars we were taking with us on the counter…so as not to forget them.  Poured cereal.  Poured coffee.  Her alarm got her up.  We ate.  She went to get dressed and I went to finish getting things together, brush my teeth, and then…we headed out the door.

The drive to Louisville started, and we were just about to head over the bridge and I looked up from my recent issue of Runner’s World and realized…I forgot our breakfast bars.  We ate so early, but the time the race started at 8:00 a.m., we would be starving!  I would definitely be starving.  We exited on the last New Albany exit and pulled into the first gas station we could find…knowing that we could at least get bananas.  Except…they didn’t have fruit of any kind.  UGH!  So, back in the car and onto the next.  This place had fruit…but no bananas.  I was really starting to get anxious now…and angry.  We were now behind schedule.  After I took such great care to put something out so I wouldn’t forget it…I forget it.  Kicking myself because now we were meandering around New Albany and not heading to the Louisville Zoo.  We pulled into one last gas station and they had some bananas.  None at the ripeness I like, but beggars can’t be choosers.  I snagged one for each of us (the ones with the fewest brown spots) and we paid $1.00 and hurried back to the car to get our booties over the bridge and heading toward the Louisville Zoo.

We got there at about 7:20…just enough time for me to peel my banana and start eating it.  That was 40 minutes to start time…which is my usual banana-fest on longer races.  So…I was familiar with this.  We parked in the grass off to the side where we were directed.  Walked through some soft and muddy lawn (it rained a lot yesterday!), and headed up toward the zoo.  Port-a-potty lines were super long.  And people were milling about near the finish line.  One thing I did notice was that the start line had moved from where it was last year.  Instead of starting on a side road in front of the zoo, we were on one of the residential roads near the zoo.  So, that was very different.  We headed that way after throwing away banana peels as a lot of runners were already making their way over there.

Kelsie and me at the start of the Throo The Zoo 5K. She rocked it.
Kelsie and me at the start of the Throo The Zoo 5K. She rocked it.

As I was stretching out, I spotted  a flurry of color.  I knew immediately it had to be Kelsie.  Oh yeah.  She came over and we talked a lot about races we want to run, injuries, and how we were pursuing this race (she was aiming for a PR…with my leg bothering me, I was doing a shake-out race and hoping I didn’t strain a muscle or something).  Before I knew it, more people were filling up the start line, so we took a couple of pictures and then got into the road with everyone else.  Jeff, from Fleet Feet, started shouting that 5 minutes into the race, they were going to open the cages at the zoo and let the animals out.  Jeff makes me laugh.  He’s someone I can always count on to make me smile and relax me at the start line.  Even at the start of a race I was doing to shake off a half marathon.

Kelsie and I were talking when we heard the sound of the horn sending us off.  I almost forgot to start my watch.  We just started moving.  She passed me immediately, going for her goal, and I fell into a pace I felt comfortable with because I didn’t want to go out too fast because I knew that Gorilla Hill in the zoo would be killer.  It got me last year.  That being said, she never got too far ahead of me.  I could see her, maybe up 20 feet from me for most of the race.

Mile 1 was actually done faster than I wanted.  Very close to the start, as we ran down Russell Avenue and was about to turn onto Poplar Level Road, I passed Jeff.  He spotted me and said, “GO KAREN!”  Treating this as a fun run, I tossed my hands up in the air.  He totally did it again.  Jeff has so much passion for running and other runners…it’s hard not to smile when he’s around.  Mile 1 clicked off just as we were about to head into the park portion of the route.  Guess I wasn’t running as easy as I thought because  I clocked out another sub-7-minute mile (6:50 this time).  I knew I was going out fast, so I eased up…just slightly.  I hate when I peter out at the end of a race.  And in 5Ks…I tend to do that.  Like I said…I’m a runner who was made for endurance, not speed, so longer races are my thing!  I pace myself so much better in them.

Jeff Wells (of Fleet Feet) and me after the Throo The Zoo 5K. He made the run SO much fun...as always. Thanks, Jeff!
Jeff Wells (of Fleet Feet) and me after the Throo The Zoo 5K. He made the run SO much fun…as always. Thanks, Jeff!

Heading into Mile 2 meant looping the park and heading down the front of the zoo parking (where the race started last year!) and back around the corner.  The start line was still up and we had to run under that.  As we did, Jeff was right behind me shouting “RESET! RESET!”  But instead of heading back down the street and into the residential area, we veered left toward the zoo.

And the name of the race suddenly comes into play.  Welcome to the Louisville Zoo.  Coming in through the back, immediately you hit a downhill portion.  I took advantage of that brief downhill slope and was starting to feel a bit like my old self again.  This is why I don’t run races to set PRs.  I run for fun…because I run better when I don’t focus on pace and speed and goals.  My goal is, and always will be, to finish and to do so having fun.  Sure, I’m a serious runner, but if I don’t enjoy it…why do it?

The zoo portion is a lot of fun and very challenging.  I spotted flamingos this time around.  And as we ran through the polar bear area, I was hoping they would be out like they were last year.  No luck.  Darn it.  But then comes the part I dreaded, because I knew it was there.  Gorilla Hill.  GORILLA-FREAKIN’-HILL!!  It’s at mile 2.5…so you’re so close but still not-so-close to that finish line.  And you have to determine whether you want to use energy to climb it or not.  I try to tackle hills hard.  I hate running hills, but the challenge of them makes me want to take them on.  I’d been avoiding hills recently because, my half marathon was hilly and I wanted my legs to recover, and my leg had been bothering me…so I was taking it easy so as not to do further damage.  But I was not going to let Gorilla Hill defeat me.  And…in the process…I managed to pass Kelsie.  I knew that would be short-lived though.  She’s a strong finisher in 5K races.  A sprinter if you will.  She’s so well-suited for 5Ks because she can put on the afterburners right there at the end.  My goal wasn’t to beat her or pass her though.  It was just to finish.  I was close.

The zoo portion came to an end as we rounded the corner.  I was right…in the straightaway, Kelsie pushed past me and ran hard.  She claims it was too soon, but I didn’t see her slow one bit.  We came around a little turn and there was the finish line.  I could hear Cathy screaming at me.  I saw Kelsie cross the finish line…definitely beating her last 5K PR…YAY!  And I crossed behind her.  I stopped my Garmin, stepped off to the side, and couldn’t help but smile.  It was a shake-off run, but my zen attitude paid off again.  A new PR according to my Garmin.

Cathy came over and gave me a hug.  We decided to move down the way so we could check out some of the tents in the finishers area.  I grabbed some water and some apple slices and we started walking around.  When nursing sore muscles, legs, etc…best to keep moving and not stop.  So, we walked and walked and walked…and talked.  And we meandered around.  Raffle tickets were handed out to finishers…and this year we hung around, simply because we wanted to stay for awards.  Awards were happening at 9:30…we had lots of time to walk…and listen to the raffle numbers get called.  Luck was not with me…again…so no prizes here.

Then…the sad news of the morning.  River City Races announced that they were having some “technical difficulties” with their equipment, so division awards would not be handed out.  But they would give out awards to the top 5 male and female finishers.  So, many of us stood out in the chilly morning and applauded those that crossed the finish line ahead of the rest of us.  The awards ceremony was fun, but I was hoping to at least have something official to report.  I never report times to my mom until they are official.

Me at the Throo The Zoo 5K after waiting on results and leaving without any due to
Me at the Throo The Zoo 5K after waiting on results and leaving without any due to “technical issues.” I did come in 2nd in my division…found that out later that night.

It is coming up on 12 hours after the race…and River City Races hasn’t posted anything about the results, nor breathed a word about them.  It’s a little frustrating…because I want to be able to call my mom and dad since they live a couple states away and always want to hear about my races.  I just can’t.  Because I refuse to give unofficial times.

I’ll have to end the blog here…until I find out more from River City Races…

Okay, late last night River City Races FINALLY posted the results of the Throo The Zoo 5K.  That only took way too long and was very frustrating.  But…what do you do, eh?

And the results were that I finished the Throo The Zoo 5K in 22:15.  A new PR!  Um…not bad for doing this for a fun shake-out run.  Wow.  Thrilled.  I was the 71/1659 finishers overall.  Oh, and I finished 2/135 in my age division.  WOOOOOHOOOO!!  Cathy had kept count at the race, but I confirmed that I was 9/1047 females to cross the finish line as well.  Awesome.  Quite happy with this being as this race was one I was taking easy for the sake of my leg…my body…and just…because it’s the zoo.  I wanted to have some fun.  PR-ing is always nice…and I managed to do it here…but if it’s not fun…why bother, right?  I think I smiled through this entire race.

Already looking forward to my next one…


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Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon – Minneapolis, MN (May 5, 2013)

Me crossing the finish line of the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon - Excelsior, Minnesota
Me crossing the finish line of the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon – Excelsior, Minnesota

Race: Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon

Place: Wayzata, Minnesota to Excelsior, Minnesota

Date: May 5, 2013

Time: 1:40:46

I love to run in Minnesota.  I feel so connected to the sport there.  I am certain a lot of that stems from the fact that it is where my grandpa lives and where he did a lot of his running.  That being said, I had been anticipating running in the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon since my grandpa mentioned it last summer and told me what a great race it was.

I signed up for it ages ago and took to training for it immediately following the Disney Princess Half Marathon.  I had a great schedule for it, as it gave me just over two months to work my mileage back up and do so safely and steadily.  No injuries.  Not part of the program.

That being said, May got here sooner than I anticipated.  My training runs were getting better and better.  Faster even.  Which I made every attempt at slowing them down with little success.  But I did try.  Before I knew it, I was packing my suitcase with every combination of running clothes I could think of.  Previously in the week, Minnesota was snowed on.  Yes.  In May.  The weather report was calling for cold weather on Sunday morning…with a good chance of rain.  So two pairs of running shoes were also packed.  I hated not knowing how to dress for this race.  All I knew was that I was leaving 80 degree weather in Louisville, Kentucky and heading into low 30s up in Minnesota.  I was not a happy runner girl.  More than half my suitcase was taken up by my running gear (2 pairs of shoes, my portable foam roller, running jacket, running pants, running shorts, running shirts (long and short sleeve), BondiBands, hair extensions, fuel belt, GU, Sports Beans…).  I still had to fit in clothes for every day wear…not to mention pajamas (warm and cooler weather ones, as by Monday & Tuesday the weather was going to be in the 70s…crazy Minnesota weather!), my toiletry bag, my gluten-free breadcrumbs for the dinner I was going to make for my aunt and grandpa, a hoodie, AND a fleece jacket, among other essentials.  Packing stresses me out to no end, and the fact that my luggage was already stuffed just with half of what I needed to bring was really getting me worked up.  I managed to get it all in there and told myself I couldn’t purchase anything unnecessary while in Minnesota (HA!!).

With my luggage packed, my roommate and I set off to work all day before leaving at normal time and heading to the airport immediately following work.  We didn’t plan ahead for our dinner that night, realizing our original plan wasn’t going to work out time-wise.  So, we parked at the airport, checked our bags, flew through security and found our gate.  Then…we had to seek out something to eat.  For Cathy, this is as simple as picking one of the few restaurants that dot our small airport in Louisville.  She chose Quiznos and opted for some chips and a large Broccoli and Cheese Soup.  Food for me is not as easy and I ended up cobbling together a combination of a fruit cup from a vendor and then Cathy and I split a bag of popcorn and a Caramel Milky Way.  Eating gluten-free at the airport in Louisville is a task, and I refused to pay $3.69 for a KIND Bar.  HELL NO!

We dined and settled in until our plane began to board.  No rush…assigned seats as we were flying Delta.  The flight was small, and very easy.  I settled in my window seat and took out my book (Hal Higdon’s Marathon: The Ultimate Training Guide, in case you were wondering) and began to absorb every word.  The two hour flight seemed to go by so quickly.  I had a Diet Coke along the way for an added boost of caffeine.  But I still felt tired when the plane settled on the runway in Minneapolis.  It was cold and wet.  I could tell that much.  Cathy and I disembarked and made the long trek to Baggage Claim.  Our luggage was there and we easily pulled our bags off the belt and immediately  opened them up to pull out our hoodies and fleece.  I wasn’t stepping out into wet 30 degree weather in Minnesota until I was in warmer attire.

I texted my aunt who said she and my cousin, Natalie, would meet us at Arrivals in the Delta area.  Perfect.  Cathy and I stepped outside…under Air Canada…and quickly walked up toward the Delta sign.  We didn’t see my Aunt’s Corolla, so we sort of stood around, bounced to keep warm, and kept a sharp eye.  Apparently there were two Delta signs and she was just up the way.  Natalie spotted us and came and got us, directing us along that path.  Perfect.  Hugs were given, luggage was placed in the trunk, and we were off to grab some groceries and then some drinks before calling it a night.  Gluten-free groceries were grabbed, then we went to settle in, catch-up, and talk over drinks and snacks at a local restaurant.  I ended up ordering their gluten-free spaghetti, which Cathy helped me consume.  And my drink was a modified version of their Pomegranate Lemonade…mine made with a gluten-free vodka.  I appreciated that.  We got caught up, talked a lot about traveling and the race, then headed back to my grandpa’s home where Natalie bid us adieu (she’d be working the rest of the time I was in town) and Cathy, Jan and I got our stuff put into the guest room and went to retrieve the airbed for Cathy and some sheets for my bed.

Sleep came easily for me, but Cathy had a fitful rest.  We were up at 7:30 a.m. the following morning to eat breakfast and get ready to head to Wayzata Middle School to pick up my race packet for Sunday’s race.  It was another cold and wet day in Minneapolis…so the hoodie and fleece made yet another appearance.  My Aunt Jan drove us out to the expo, where parking wasn’t too hard to get.  The issue was walking from the car to the doors leading into the school.  Why?  Because it was flippin’ cold, that’s why!  But we braved the damp, cold elements and hurried inside.  Jan rushed to get the door from a man who was holding it for us and he said, “Don’t rush.  Save your legs for tomorrow.”  I love runners!

The expo was teeny-tiny, but something told me this race was as well.  You can usually judge the size of a race by the size of its expo and the number of people and businesses that are there or represented.  Very few here.  In fact, the packet pick-up was held in this tiny room that looked to be the school’s cafeteria.  And I thought my small town had a small school.  It was at least triple the size of this one.  There were a few vendors and local businesses (chiropractors, orthopedic doctors, running store) present, but not much else.  There was actually a line for the spread of numbers my bib was located in, so I went to stand in line.  While I was doing that, Cathy went to meander over to the tables and see what was there.  When I got my race bag (Bib #1493) and t-shirt, I turned around and there was Cathy holding these amazing signs she made while I waited in line.  Yes…two signs.  Which just shoes how long I had to wait.

I went to the area that was set up to make sure the timing chip was functioning.  I waved my bib over the sensor and my name came up on the laptop.  Good enough.  We were set to go.  We had a few errands to run, and then we grabbed a light bite to eat at Pinstripes in Edina.  Then…we made our way back to my grandpa’s house.  Here is when my bestie since third grade, Heather (who was at my first half marathon in Chicago in 2011, and cheered me on through the Minneapolis Half Marathon last year) came over.  We sat around and talked about anything and everything for awhile, swapping stories with grandpa and Jan.  Then, we flipped on the television and watched the running of the Kentucky Derby (I got out of Louisville once again for that, YES!) before getting up and piling into two vehicles to head to the chosen place for gluten-free pizza, joining up with two of my cousins and their families/significant others.

One of the worst gluten-free pizzas I ever had…so anyone near a Pizza Ranch…don’t go there!  Find somewhere with good pizza.  With the less-than-satisfactory pizza consumed…we all said goodbye and went our separate ways for the evening.  A very early wake-up call was scheduled for the following morning as the race started at 8 a.m. and parking was rather limited.

Morning came really early for me.  I was awake at about 4:40 a.m…but really earlier.  I just lazed in bed until my alarm on my phone went off.  With only one alarm set, I didn’t want to miss it.  Cathy continued to sleep, but I gathered up my race clothes and headed into the bathroom to change.  I set down my clothes and went into the kitchen to get out my gluten-free bagel, put it on a pan, and get that in a preheating oven to toast while I changed.  I managed to get into my race gear and get my hair extensions in and pigtails pulled up just in time to step into the kitchen and save my bagel from being overdone.  I was doing something new here.  I normally had only cereal before a race…then ate my banana about 40 minutes before start time.  But, it was cold outside so I’d burn through food faster.  It was also 3 hours before the race, so my body had time to digest and I wanted to see if a little extra carbs in the morning made any difference.  This was a huge risk, being that if my stomach didn’t like running with a bagel in it…I wouldn’t know until I was out on the course.  I gave it a very thin layer of Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese and then settled in to look at Facebook and eat.  Once the bagel was consumed, I went to wake up my roommate at her requested 5:30 a.m.  She shuffled into the bathroom, and I set to getting her breakfast prepared.

And then…the big snafu of the morning occurred.  And I wasn’t sure at the time if it was a good or bad omen.  But…it was a mess.

Basically, through doing nothing but flushing a toilet before even using it, Cathy set off a stream of malfunctions that morning.  And it started with the toilet overflowing.  I had no idea this was happening, but my aunt came hurdling up the stairs and pounded on my grandpa’s door, telling him that there was a water leak in the utility room.  He got out of bed and went downstairs with her, and soon Cathy came out of the bathroom and said that the toilet had overflowed.  I put two and two together and hurried downstairs to relay this to my aunt.  Water was literally pouring out of pipes, all over antique pictures and some clothing that were there in the utility room.  My grandpa was moving things as fast as he could.

That being said, I went back upstairs and helped Cathy clean up the bathroom.  Jan told us to finish getting ready, so Cathy ate her breakfast and packed up her bag.  I had her pin me up and I slipped my pajama pants over my running skirt (I wasn’t sure how to dress for this race, but I figured I’d warm up so…running skirt, compression socks, arm warmers, short sleeve shirt, BondiBand) and put on my hoodie and fleece jacket.  We all needed to use the bathroom still, so we decided an impromptu stop at Caribou Coffee would do. My aunt poured her oatmeal into a cup and we took off.  We rotated through the bathroom at Caribou while our drinks were being made.  I kept my simple…a coffee with a splash of soy milk.  We got them to go, and soon we were off making the 35 minute drive to Wayzata, Minnesota and the start of the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon.

We ended up parking at Wells Fargo in Wayzata and trekking down the hill toward the start line.  While we were on our way past the line-up of port-a-potties, my grandpa called to say he fixed the problem in the bathroom, had disinfected the floor, and was now going back to bed.  My grandpa is going to be 92 years old this year and he is still sharp as a whip.  Love him.  With that little bit of relief, we decided to get my legs warmed up by walking up the street and over to the docks of Lake Minnetonka.  So, that’s what I did…in the very cold wind…with my aunt and my Aunt Jan.  We took a few pictures on the docks and wandered a little more up, then turned around to head back toward the start line.  I noticed a bunch of runners ducking into Starbucks, so I figured I could go use the bathroom there and Jan was thinking of getting a hot chocolate.  So, we went in.  And I ended up in the bathroom line of doooooooooom!  But, I stayed there.  Cathy helped a runner pin her race number on…properly because she wanted it on her back originally.  And the line slowly made its way toward the bathroom doors.  Heather texted while I was standing in line to say she was in the area and I told her we were in Starbucks.  She must have found us.  Cathy came up the line at 10 minutes to the race to give me the warning.  I didn’t have to pee, I was just going to with a flushing toilet…so I said, “Screw this!” and got out of line, joining Cathy,  Heather and Jan at the table.  I decided it was time to suck it up cupcake and lose the pajama pants and the jackets…so I stripped out of them in Starbucks, now in only my running clothes…and we stepped outside.

Heather, Me, and Cathy after the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon - Excelsior, Minnesota
Heather, Me, and Cathy after the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon – Excelsior, Minnesota

BRRRRR!!

But…the best thing to do is get acclimated, right?  Right.  Or that’s what I told myself as I huddled with Heather and Cathy for pictures in front of the start line.  Heather actually told me that we weren’t supposed to be at the start line yet.  She spotted the pace groups around the corner and that was where we needed to head.  So, that’s what we did…crossing the road and heading into the fray of runners lining the side street.  I chose a pace group the day before…being, what I told Cathy the night before, very overly ambitious with my half marathon pace…but understanding if I needed to drop off from that pace, I would.  My pacers were Rick and Kevin, two very talkative and amazing guys who did a great job on Sunday morning.  And my pace group was the 7:38/mile pace group…or the 1:40:00 finish time.

That would require me to shave a full 5 minutes off my half marathon PR from the Disney Princess Half Marathon.  I told you…I was being overly ambitious on this one.  I had that thought in my head as I lined up.  And Heather stepped into the street with me, looked at the sign and back at me and said, “Karen…this is a fast pace for a half marathon.”  I nodded.  “I know.”  We hugged.  Cathy snapped a picture of me in front of the pacers.  We hugged.  I ran over to Jan and hugged her…and then I got in line.  And shivered with the rest of the runners who were dressed more like it was summer than 30-some degrees out.

After a few minutes, we were marched down the street and around the corner toward the starting gate.  I hit the button on my Garmin so that it could seek out satellites…and it managed after a few moments.  I noted that it was just a little past 8:00 a.m.  We were starting late.  Uh oh.  Not another omen of some sort.  We were, indeed, starting late.  The pace car wasn’t up where it needed to be, so they had to go find it.  Go figure.  So, we all sort of huddled there at the start until we suddenly…we were off.

I moved with the pace group toward the start line…and then…we joined the throng of runners now making their way down Lake Street.  As with most races, the start area is very crowded, so your pace starts out easier.  This is actually a good thing.  For me.  I tend to fly out of that start line.  But this was good.  This reined me in.  I was about 2 feet behind my pacers, and it was like that up until about half a mile when I was right up next to them.

They start you off on a high note…in that you are running flat for a little distance and then…BOOM…you get the steepest hill and climb in the race.  At least you get it over with early.  So, I decided to power up that hill and find my pace on the other side.  In most cases what goes up does have to come down.  And it was on this downward end that I pulled ahead of my pacers.  No problem.  They were just behind me.  For a long while, I could hear them chatting back and forth with each other.  I was right where I needed to be…and I felt good.  So far…so good.  Run smart.  That was the key.

The first three miles of this race were spent right along the shoreline of beautiful Lake Minnetonka.  I mean…it was serene and gorgeous.  And, the locals who lived along the streets came outside, even in the cold, to cheer all of us on.  It was amazing and it can really make all the difference in the world.  At Mile 3 we branched off away from the lake for about 2 miles and ran Fox Street.  There were a couple more hills, and I remained in front of my pace group through this as well.  It was really turning into a great run.  I was feeling energized and really enjoying the run regardless of my time.

Now, here’s the thing about the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon – this is not a closed course.  So, yes…we do share the road with traffic.  And at certain points in the miles that were coming up, we were directed to run inside the white line of the shoulder…in single file.  You want to talk about getting thrown off your pace?!  I had never experienced something like that in a half marathon.  Normally roads are closed for a couple of hours and then reopened after the back of the pack passes through.  But not with this race.  So, it made it very interesting to navigate these tight areas along the road.  It was…a challenge…and a new experience all at once.  This meant, if my pace was faster than the person in front of me, I either toughed it out behind them, or risked stepping outside the white line and into the road to pass.  Runners were doing a combination of both.

We hit about mile 5.5 where the relay teams tagged off and sent their next runner out toward the finish.  I was still making fantastic time and not really feeling like I was pushing myself too hard this early in the race.  My biggest fear was petering out in the last couple miles for holding this strong of a pace so early.  But, my legs felt good and strong so I kept on…still ahead of my pacers.  But I could still hear them.  So, I was technically right on pace.  Once the relay teams tagged off, the remainder of the race, while still, at points, needing to be single file on the shoulder of the road, was back along the shoreline of the lake.

It was about the time we hit the apartment complex with the speed bumps that my pacers were right with me.  And then…just ahead of me.  Okay…no problem.  I was going to run a comfortable race and push myself more than I normally do.  They were right there…warming runners of bumps and when we hit Mile 8, one of them shouted out “That was a really great mile.  7:34 pace!”  Sweet!  We were down to the last 5 miles and I started my mental play to get me through to the end.

There were more hills, more flats, then, around Mile 11…loose gravel.  Yes.  Loose gravel.  Apparently, the course now veered off the main road and onto what looks like it is known as the Lake Minnetonka Regional Trail.  So, we left the road and hit this trail that was a lot like the one I ran in Birmingham the weekend prior to this one.  I hate loose gravel.  It’s harder to get my footing and steady myself.  Overall…it is more difficult to run on.  I wasn’t prepared…and my pace team was now slipping further and further ahead of me.  I could still see that sign though, so that gave me a little consolation.  For the next two miles, I ran steady, but cautious, until just before Mile 13, where we were put back out onto the road.  There was a hill to climb…so I tucked into it…fought my way up and it was all downhill to the finish line.

I came barreling toward that finish, not looking at the clock, just focused on getting through that gate.  I could hear Heather and Cathy screaming for me.  I could see Jan, and she was also shouting.  I ran it in and crossed the finish line, pausing my Garmin a moment later and proceeding through the chute.  I glanced at my Garmin…and it said 1:40:46.  Holy crap…had I managed to actually do it?

Jan took a few pictures of me near the finish line and then I proceeded to walk around to where Cathy and Heather were waiting for me.  I received big hugs and Heather started shouting, “ONE FOUR ZERO, ONE FOUR ZERO!” with me.  It was amazing.  I felt awesome at the end of the race.  And Heather even commented that I was hardly sweating.  Guess I need to push harder next time, eh?  We joked around about that and Cathy got out my protein shake, which I drank slowly, and washed down with some water.  We stood around for a bit, basking in the race, swapping stories, and everyone I was with just kept complimenting me on making my goal.  After a moment, we decided to move toward the lake and maybe start making our way toward where we’d be meeting up with my cousin Andy and his girlfriend Courtney for brunch/lunch in a bit.  As we made our way that way, Cathy spotted the massage chairs and asked if I wanted a massage.

Aunt Jan and me after the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon - Excelsior, Minnesota
Aunt Jan and me after the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon – Excelsior, Minnesota

Of course.  So, I signed the waver and got settled on the chair.  My massage therapist said that my lower left back was really tight, so he worked on that for quite awhile.  I don’t know if he got it to loosen, but if felt good to get it worked on, regardless.  After that, I decided my legs were cold, so I slipped my pajama pants back on and got out my jacket to wear.  We made our way up toward the main drag.  I was ready for something warm to drink, so we ducked into Dunn Bros Coffee.  Cathy didn’t get anything to drink, but Jan got a mocha, heather got a soy latte and I snagged a cafe au lait with almond milk.  It was warm, refreshing, and delicious.  Just what I needed.  As we finished off the drinks, we decided we’d head into the pub, Jake O’Connor’s, to get our reservation checked in.  Cathy went to get my change of clothes from the car and Heather went with her.  Jan and I got our table immediately after getting there, adding one chair to the party.  That wasn’t a problem.  And so…the rest of the party arrived.  I immediately went to get changed and returned wearing my finisher’s medal and my race shirt.

I went for breakfast food that day, getting their Healthy Hash and Eggs Breakfast, which was a combination of Brussel sprouts, sweet corn, yellow onion, bell peppers, potato hash, and fresh avocado all sautéed together untill caramelized.  I topped mine off with two poached eggs (which they overly poached…so no runny yolks) and then covered with a light hollandaise sauce.  I skipped the brown bread since I’m gluten-free and made sure the entire dish was prepared gluten-free.  When it arrived…aside from the over-poached eggs…it tasted amazing.  I was in heaven with my food.  Trust me…I was hungry.  About halfway through I asked about getting a Magners, and a pint was happily delivered to me.  Bliss.

After lunch, we all split off to do our own thing the rest of the day.  For me, that meant a trip to the grocery store for gluten-free pasta, gluten-free marinara, gluten-free salad dressing, and other necessary items for dinner that evening with my cousin Molly and her family.  Simple enough.

So, the official results of the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon are that I finished in 1:40:46, taking just under 5 minutes off the half marathon PR I set in Disney World in February.  Maybe being overly ambitious for this race was a good thing.  And in a race with hills and with single file running on the shoulder of a busy road…yeah…quite pleased with that accomplishment.  I was the 301/2425 finishers overall.  WOOHOO!!  I was 70/1288 women to cross the finish line.  And I was 16/238 people in my age division.  Super please with these results.  Elated.  And now aiming higher for the next one.

Running in grandpa’s footsteps brought me to a small, local half marathon.  And I totally hit my pace and made everyone I was with, including myself, super proud.


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100th Post…for a special race…

Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon
Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon

Wow…100 posts in my running blog.  What a milestone.  When I set out to write about my race experiences, my training, my injuries, my day-to-day struggles with running…I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.  But, the fact is, I’ve quite enjoyed this journey.  Since starting this blog, I have accomplished so much in my running.  With 100 posts behind me…I am eagerly anticipating the rest of this year and seeing where my running shoes, my legs, and my spirit take me.

That being said…tonight after work, I am hopping a flight out of town (just as Kentucky Derby weekend kicks off, so this was amazing timing!) and heading up to Minneapolis, Minnesota.  Why?  Well…to visit my grandpa (yes…the man, the myth, the legend…my running hero and inspiration), my aunt, my cousins, and one of my besties (Heather!!), of course.  But another reason is…to run in a half marathon that my grandpa has run.

That half marathon…

The Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon.

Grandpa and me in our race shirts in summer 2011 - his is a Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon shirt.
Grandpa and me in our race shirts in summer 2011 – his is a Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon shirt.

He talked a lot about this race when I was visiting him for his 90th birthday almost two years ago.  In fact, he suggested we take pictures in race shirts, so I grabbed the one I had from my furthest distance race at that time (it was a 5 miler…I was recovering from injury at the time and heading into my first half marathon – Chicago – that September) and he grabbed his Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon race shirt.  I don’t remember what year he ran it…but look for yourself at the picture.  It makes me smile…just thinking that I’m actually following in his footsteps on this one.  He talked a lot about this race.  Raved about it…so I knew…I knew it had to be one of the ones I ran in Minnesota.

Of course, nothing is easy when it comes to traveling for a race.  On May 1, 2013, Minnesota had snow dumped on it.  Like…massive amounts of snow.  SNOW!  It’s MAY!  So, with no clue how to even dress for this race I’m packing a little of everything and will make a game time decision on the official race attire.

As for now, I’m eagerly anticipating my packet pick-up tomorrow morning, seeing my grandpa, perhaps talking a little with him about the race.  I looked at the elevation chart and their seems to be quite a few hills.  That’s okay…I’m learning to embrace the torture of hills.  My focus, of course, is on finishing.  As it should be.

So…while most eyes in my town will be glued to the track at Churchill Downs, my feet are going to be carrying me from Wayzata, Minnesota down to Excelsior, Minnesota.  I couldn’t be happier about it.  I’m really looking forward to having a great time in Minnesota…with family…with friends…and with the runners who are taking on the Lake Minnetonka Half Marathon with me on Sunday.

No place I’d rather be!


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“Walk Me Home…To The Place I Belong” 5k Run and Walk for Foster Care – Birmingham, AL (April 27, 2013)

Top 3 Finishers of the
Top 3 Finishers of the “Walk Me Home…To The Place I Belong” 5K Run and Walk for Foster Care: Jimmy Gilchrist (2nd), Nathan Byrd (1st), and me (3rd)

Race: “Walk Me Home…To The Place I Belong” 5K Run and Walk for Foster Care

Place: Veterans Park, Hoover, Alabama

Date: April 27, 2013

Time: 23:01

Let me be completely candid with you, first of all, when it comes to this race.  I was not happy about doing it.  Nope.  I don’t travel often for 5K races, even when it is where my family currently lives.  It’s too expensive for that short of a distance.  And this 5K race was $30.00.  Albeit, it’s for a fantastic cause, but…I normally wouldn’t have entered it.  Not under normal circumstances.

But someone I used to work with wanted to run her first 5K.  Originally, this weekend was going to be the Making Tracks for Celiacs 5K race, but that was pushed back to next weekend, and I just happen to be in Minneapolis, Minnesota for a half marathon that weekend.  So, with the race rescheduled, I set out to find us another one.

And I did.  This race.  I signed up.  I thought she had  signed up.  Turns out she didn’t…and wasn’t going to.  That news was dropped on me on Friday afternoon.  Saturday morning was the race and I was driving straight through from Louisville to Birmingham that night after work to get there, get a couple hours of sleep, and then run.

Alone.

Which, did sort of upset me.  The whole reason I originally joined this race was to run with her in her first 5K ever.  And now…I was sort of left to my own devices, making a very long car trip for 3.1 miles.  Yeah…not a happy runner.  Not one bit.

That being said, I got in just before 10 p.m. that evening.  My dad came out and helped Cathy and I unload the car.  And I left most of my stuff to sit so I could spend a little time with my parents before calling it a night.  We sat up and talked for a little while, but then we decided that we best get some sleep.  After all, I checked the race page on my way out at work and it indicated a 7:00 a.m. race start.  EARLY!  So, off to bed I went, setting my alarm for 5:20 a.m., which would hopefully give me enough time to get dressed in my running clothes, eat some cereal and a banana, and then head on out to Veterans Park with Cathy and my parents.

The alarm went off way too early for my liking that morning.  But, I shut it off and hopped out of bed.  I changed into my race clothes – a bright orange shirt, one of my running skirts, and my green compression socks.  Why not?  For my BondiBand…I was in Birmingham, Alabama.  Nothing but my War Eagle band would do.  Trust me.  I put purple and orange extensions in my hair, and then finished up by getting my old running shoes out and onto my feet.  Why old running shoes?  At that point, rain was still a high possibility, so I figured…better to be safe than sorry.  I’d leave my new pair dry and at home.

I went to wake up Cathy, and then headed downstairs to make up some breakfast.  I intended to take a gluten-free bagel with vegan cream cheese with me to the race to eat afterwards, since my 3 year old nephew, Chace, had a tee ball game that morning.  But that wasn’t until 10:15 a.m.  And if the race started at 7:00 a.m., that would mean I’d have plenty of time to run and then hop into the car, come home, and eat some breakfast before heading out for the day.  That being decided, I poured a bowl of Cinnamon Chex for Cathy and for me, got us each a banana, and warmed her up an Udi’s Gluten-Free Lemon Muffin, per her request.

My parents, Cathy, and I all scarfed down breakfast and I hurried to brush my teeth and get my Garmin and Road ID on.  Then…we were packing into my parents vehicle and heading out to Hoover, Alabama.

I ran Veterans Park last year when I was down for the Making Tracks for Celiacs race.  I had an idea of what this course was going to entail.  For one thing, it’s the cross country course…so much of it is made up of loose gravel.  Once you officially head out of the park and over toward the school campus, the path gets even trickier.  HILLS.  Dangerous hills with loose gravel so you can’t really fly down them and you have to watch your step and footing running up them as well.  Yeah…this is a challenging course, with a monster hill right at the end.  But, at least I knew that this time.  When I was down here last year for Making Tracks for Celiacs…no clue.

We actually were some of the first to arrive.  In fact, as we drove in, Cathy pointed out that all the signage for this particular race showed that it started at 8:00 a.m.  Not 7:00 a.m. like the Web site told me.  Great.  So, now we were an hour early…which might mean I could be starving halfway into this race.  I have a fast metabolism, so when I run I plan my meals and snacks and fuel accordingly.  I didn’t bring anything with me, assuming that this would kick off at 7:00 a.m.

When I get there, I head over to the table that looks like where registration would be.  No one is really manning it, so I ask the woman standing there if this is where I pick up my race packet.  She seemed a bit lost, because, here I was, showing up way early, before all the volunteers were there, and before anyone was really ready.  She asked for my name and went and plucked a bag out from a box.  The volunteer handed me a waver notice that I had to sign for the City of Hoover.  So I did.  The bag was a nice reusable canvas bag from Birmingham’s running store The Trak Shak, and inside was my race t-shirt, a blue bracelet, a pin, and some gift certificates and cards for Sonic.  I gave those to my dad, as I really can’t eat anything at Sonic and our location closed anyway. I did, however, note that there was no race bib with a number included.  I found that odd.  And I sort of got all grumpy and upset over the fact that I wasn’t going to have a number for this race.  I even told my mom I’d rather just go home, forget I spent the $30.00, and run my 10 mile long run while it wasn’t raining, as it was supposed to be pouring when I was to put in my 10 mile run on Sunday.  She said it was my call.  I grumped and groaned about it to Cathy and she hurtfully said, “Well, we can just list this as a DNS (Did Not Start).”  Oh, you should have heard me when she said that.  No runner wants a DNS or a DNF (Did Not Finish).  And honestly, just forgetting I even signed up for this race was what I was going for.  The fact that she was going to hold me to it…give me a frickin’ DNS if I didn’t run it hurt me.  It stung.  I let her know that I didn’t like that at all.  She just shrugged.  And I pretended like I didn’t want to punch her for a moment.

But then…things started to get a little better…

More volunteers arrived.  And soon a sign appeared on one of the tables that had race numbers on it.  I allowed the girls manning that table a moment to get situated before heading up there to inquire about my race bib.  Sure enough…my preregistered number was there.  I was 716.  The two girls handed it over along with two safety pins.  I went over to where Cathy was seated and handed them to her.  She hates just having two pins, so after declaring her dissatisfaction with that, my dad went over to the table and snagged two more for her.  She pinned me up, and more racers arrived and got signed in to run.

A zumba dance thing was happening on the stage that was in the park.  We watched that, briefly, and then a few announcements were made.  Race time, 8:00 a.m., was fast approaching now, and I noticed a lot of the runners making their way away from the pavilion and toward the start/finish line.  I didn’t line up yet, but as announcements and some information about the race and the charity that it benefited were given.  We had a nice blessing over the race and then we all started to line up.

I was near the front, but not right up front.  There were some cross country runners here, and quite a few native race veterans from the chatter I heard.  Two ladies behind me were talking about their friend up at the front, saying how she always wins…so that was interesting.  We were all just anxious to get started, so finally the announcer counted us down…and sent us off.

And so…I hit that loose gravel path running as much as I dared.  I wanted to be careful and take this race easy.  After all, I didn’t want to risk injury before my upcoming half marathon.  That being said, early on I found myself passing quite a few people that had been closer to the front.  I just kept moving, kept going, focusing on the path ahead.

Good thing too.  About a quarter mile or so into the race, there was this huge gap in the course.  It was at least, at least two feet wide with water running through it.  Apparently, off to the side was a pedestrian bridge, but there were no volunteers to point the runners that way.  I did what the guys in front of me did…and took a leap of faith.  This fault line of sorts was nearly the death of me.  I have short legs, and I barely landed on my toes on the other side, leaning forward in an attempt to not fall into the giant opening in the Earth.  That was close.  And it really rattled me.  But, I just kept moving.

Signs and volunteers, many of them Boy Scouts, were along the path to guide runners (and later the walkers) in the right direction.  I scurried around the little lake, dodging a fly fisherman as he worked his fishing pole, and continued on.  I was hoping, as we rounded the lake and headed back toward the park that I wouldn’t have to leap over the fault again.  Thankfully…I didn’t have to.  Whew.

Heading back toward the park, we were diverted away from the finish area to head around the tennis courts.  As I made the turn, Cathy peaked her head out to cheer me on.  And one of the volunteers applauded and said, “First lady!”

Really?  I was the first female?

That was new.

From there, we made our way across the road and toward the school campus.  A water station was there, but I bypassed it and kept my momentum for the hill I had to climb.  Not easy.  I made it up and started down, realizing again that I needed to be careful of my footing on those steep downhills, which meant, leaning back and not allowing gravity to take over.

There were three men ahead of me, that much I knew.  I was now entering the shady wooded area of the race, where the trees offered brilliant shade.  But it was quiet.  I could see flashes of the pink shirt of the guy ahead of me, so I pressed on, winding through the wooded path, watching my footing on the hills, until I finally caught up to him as he approached the last giant hill.  He slowed to a stop, much like the guy ahead of me at Making Tracks for Celiacs the previous time I ran there.  But, just as I did last year, I pressed on and took on the hill.  It slowed me down, but I’ve trained on hills.  This one was certainly steeper than the ones I normally run on, and made up of roots, gravel and mud, but I got up it and found my momentum again.

Besides, I couldn’t let the pink shirted guy beat me to the finish line.  He was wearing western boots, not running shoes.  It was a matter of pride and principle.

I dug in, scurrying back along the path, coming out of the trees.  I ducked back under the bridge and emerged to run, once again, back toward the park.  This time, however, I knew it was to the finish line.  I also knew that there was a runner not too far behind me, pink shirt and western boots aside, he was still a contender.  So, I just ran as hard as I could.  His buddies started screaming at him as I started in toward the finish line.

I could see my parents right at the finish.  My mom was holding up three fingers, shouting, “Come on, KJ!  Come on, baby!”  I crossed the finish line, paused my Garmin, and was handed a blue ribbon to go tie onto the Blue Ribbon Tree.  Cathy hurried over and said, “THIRD OVERALL!  FIRST FEMALE.”

Holy crap!!  I wasn’t aware of being the third one in, but as no women passed me, I knew I was first female in.

Let me say this again.

THIRD.  OVERALL.

Prior to the race, Cathy said as long as I  wasn’t in the top three racers in, then I we could leave right after the race.  Turns out…I was in the top three racers.  But, no one fussed about that at all.  The problem now was I needed to find out when awards would be given out.

First thing was first, however.  Cathy pointed out the two guys who came in ahead of me and I went over to see if I could get a picture with them.  They were happy to oblige.  Nathan was our first place finisher and Jim was our second place finisher.  Both were very nice guys and very good runners.  We talked a bit about upcoming races, and then we all sort of split off and did our own thing until awards were given.  Right…awards  I needed to find out about those.  So, I approached the same volunteer I first talked to that morning and she handed me a piece of paper with that information.  Awards were going to be done at 9:30 a.m.  This almost gave me enough time to go home, get my camera (for the baseball games that afternoon), change, and, most important, grab something to eat.  I was starving.

My dad said that we would be cutting it close by going all the way home.  So, my mom was going to send him, and I started rattling off everything I would need.  He wasn’t sure he could remember it all, so my mom said she would go with him and Cathy and I could stay at the park and wait for them…and for the start of the awards.  She said as long as they didn’t get stopped by a train, they should be back just in time.  We saw them off and then went to sit down in the pavilion.

No sooner had we settled in, my mom texted to say a train had them stopped.  Naturally.  Contact went silent after that, and I was just hoping it was a short train and they were getting everything I had asked for them to grab, toast my gluten-free bagel, slap it with vegan cream cheese, and then make it back in time.

My dad and my mom all smiles after I received my Third Overall medal and gift card prizes. They were so proud of me.
My dad and my mom all smiles after I received my Third Overall medal and gift card prizes. They were so proud of me.

Unfortunately, they were stopped by a train on the way back too.  And with the walkers having been sent off after a very, very long prayer, the time for awards was almost there.  Cathy and I stood up and made our way toward the stage area.  I stopped walking, glancing over toward the parking lot, hoping that my parents would get back in time.  No sign of them.  So here they were able to see me place in the top three for the first time ever…but they were going to miss the awards.

I was frustrated, and very sad.

But luck was with me again.  They just happened to start with awards for the men first, not the overall winners, as most races do.  So, this bought some time.  They were just at the Men 20 – 29, when I saw my dad heading my way with my bagel and my mom a few steps behind him with my change of clothes.  YAY!  They made it.

I downed the bagel as they went through the awards, realizing that overall awards were going to be given at the end.  I had fun cheering and clapping for those who stuck around to get their awards.  I love seeing award ceremonies, even if I don’t win.  And then…overall awards were given.

I was the first up, being that I was the third overall finisher.  My award was a beautiful bronze medal and an envelope stuffed with gift cards for local Birmingham businesses and restaurants worth $116.00.  So awesome.  When my name was called, Cathy, mom, and dad all cheered loudly.  I love my cheering section.

The awards for first and second overall were also awarded, to Jim and Nathan, whom I had spoken to soon after my finish and got my picture with afterwards as well.  And then, I scurried off to change and head off to get the rest of the day underway.  I had nephews to cheer for at the ballpark after all.

So, while this race got off to a rocky (literally) start, in the end, it was totally worth the drive.  I had a good time running this challenging course and I was thrilled my parents were attending the first race I ever placed as an overall winner.  It was a very proud moment…and they continued to let me know how very proud they were of me.  Yeah…totally worth it.

No new PR this time…but one amazing run in the presence of the two people who mean the world to me.  So glad my parents were there to encourage me and motivate me to push all the way to the end…to one of my best finishes yet.  Not bad for a rocky, hilly, treacherous course, yes?  Sometimes races have a way of making us stronger.  I definitely found my strong in Birmingham.


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Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon – New Albany, IN (April 21, 2013)

Me starting off on the 8 mile bike portion of the Floyd County YMCA Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon
Me starting off on the 8 mile bike portion of the Floyd County YMCA Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon

Race: Tri-at-the-Y Super Sprint Triathlon

Place: Floyd County YMCA, New Albany, Indiana

Date: April 21, 2013

Overall Time: 1:04:03

I can now officially call myself a triathlete.  For real.  No indoor triathlon this time.  Nope.  The triathlon that I participated in two weekends ago was an official Super Sprint Triathlon, which did not happen indoors on gym equipment this time.  If you recall, my last triathlon was an Indoor Triathlon, and I wasn’t too keen on it.  Besides, it wasn’t a true triathlon.  No measured distance to run or pedal, just set times on a treadmill and stationary bike.  Then a certain time in the pool.  Done.

NOT. THIS. TIME.

And I couldn’t have been happier about it either.

Granted, when I signed up for this, I had no clue what I was getting myself into.  I’m just going to be honest.  I am a good swimmer, but I’m not a fast swimmer.  I can bike, but I’ve never done so in competition form.  And the weather had been so cold leading into this race, that the only practice I was getting on the bike was on the stationary bike at the gym.  Definitely not the same as getting out onto the road and tackling some real hills.  But, you make do with what you’ve got, yes?

As a runner, I knew I would have that part down.  It was the bike and swim that were making me nervous.  As I got on the stationary bike on every gym day leading up to the triathlon, I was feeling a bit better about the bike portion…but that swim portion still seemed a bit daunting.  Granted, it was a simple 300 meters in the pool, but that was six laps (down and back) in each lane of the pool at the YMCA.  I got in one morning of swimming in the pool prior to this event…and it took me 20 minutes to do the required 6 down and back laps.  I was not feeling confident at all about that part of this triathlon.

Running is my passion.  I have yet to find that same passion in any other sport.  I run a lot, I run often, I run without forcing myself to do so.  It’s just something I love to do.  Early, late, it doesn’t matter.  I’ll lace up those shoes and just go, go, go whenever I want.  I run slow, I run fast, I run long.  I run…pretty much every day.  At most 6 out of 7 days a week…runs of varying lengths.  But, I know that cross training is also important to building up better skills as a runner.  A triathlon is a great way to get a sample of cross training with two very different sports from running – biking and swimming.  Throwing in two consecutive and challenging sports with a run was a good introduction to other options out there, that’s for sure.

A Super Sprint Triathlon is a great introduction to triathlons.  I’m so glad I did it, although I had a nervous respect for what I was getting myself into.  I didn’t mention it to anyone because I wasn’t completely sure I could do it.  Or do it well.  And that just means…to my own high standards I place on myself when I compete.

A Super Sprint Triathlon consists of an 8 mile bike, a 2 mile run, and a 300 meter swim.

Small…but daunting to someone who really just runs.  I think I took it on like a champ though.

The day before the triathlon, I had gone out for a quick 5 mile run, and then later met up with my friend Nikky for her last long run (10 miles) to pace her as she prepped for her mini marathon the following Saturday.  So, I was going into this with some tired legs as it was.  But…I’ve never really let that slow me down (much) when it comes to races.  What I didn’t know was what to expect when the triathlon kicked off.  I was…really clueless going in.  That was evident by the fact that I was going to be doing the biking portion of the race on a mountain bike…not a road bike.  Even better…the bike didn’t quite fit into the trunk of my Toyota Corolla, despite lowering the seats.  So, much of the drive to the YMCA was cautious, hoping that the trunk didn’t pop open in the process as it couldn’t be shut.

I also had to think about what I was going to wear.  It was required that all participants wear their bathing suits under their clothes for the triathlon.  I had to do that with the indoor triathlon I did last March, so that wasn’t an issue.  The issue was…it was flippin’ cold that morning.  For real.  Like 40 degrees cold.  So, I had some decisions to make when it came to wardrobe.  When I got up that morning, the bathing suit went on…because I knew that much was a given.  I finally decided to just brave it and wear the swim suit bottoms as my shorts throughout the entire triathlon.  I put on some compression socks and my running shoes.  My original thought was to just throw on arm warmers and do the entire thing in my bathing suit, but the weather deterred me from that line of thinking.  I ended up throwing on my Earth Fare Athlete Ambassador shirt with the arm warmers and calling it done.  One BondiBand later and one ponytail (no pigtails as I had to wear a helmet for the bike portion) later, I was ready to get to the Floyd County YMCA (also known as…my gym).

So, with my bike wedged into my little Toyota Corolla, my roommate dropped me off with my bike and then headed back to the apartment as her mom was coming over.  She was going to cheer me on too and then we were all heading out for her belated birthday lunch at North End Café in Louisville, Kentucky.  So…I knew a delicious gluten-free pancake was in my future…I just had to get through the triathlon first.  As she drove off, I started to walk my bike toward the YMCA, and was told by a fellow triathlete that I might as well just take it up and over the flood wall and get it racked before checking in.  I glanced over a the stairs leading up and over the train tracks, then the flood wall, and thanked him.  So, I rolled my bike that way, then picked it up and carried it all the way up the steps, resting at the top, before carrying it down the steps toward the amphitheater, and over to the bike racks.  As mine was a mountain bike, among a sea of racing road bikes), I didn’t hang mine up by the seat.  I just kicked it into place with the kickstand and left it there while I hauled myself back up the steps, over the flood wall, and back toward the YMCA to get checked in.  This involved getting my t-shirt, my race number, my timing chip (which fit around my ankle), and had to strip out of my hoodie, roll down my arm warmers, and roll up my sleeves to get the required triathlete bib number scrawled on my upper right in Sharpie marker.  I felt pretty official after that.

Then it was the waiting game.  I was waiting on Cathy to return with her mom.  I needed to eat my pre-race fuel of a banana in enough time to let it digest.  When she did arrive…she had forgotten the banana.  I was afraid no fuel since my cereal at breakfast and my Lärabar I ate with it would mean I would be starving during the triathlon.  A hungry athlete is an unhappy athlete.  Trust me.  So, she ditched her belongings and took off to the local gas station, knowing they usually have some bananas in a basket.  She succeeded, and returned, and I devoured the banana on the walk toward the bike rack area.  We had about 30 minutes to the start of the triathlon and a mandatory meeting in the bike area was about to start.

The mandatory meeting basically went over the course and how the triathlon would work.  They told us where we would be biking, and how many loops we’d have to do for the required miles.  They told us about transitioning from bike to running, and where we needed to run, turn around, and head up the hill, down some stairs (YIKES) and into the back of the YMCA to transition to the swim.  Then…the dreaded swim would take place.  They also went on to say that our participation in the event that morning was sending a message to people like the Boston Marathon bombers that we, as athletes, would not be bullied.  It was a touching speech and I nearly cried.  And then, we were told to get our bikes, put the more experienced up front, and get ready to start.

I decided to follow instructions and lined up with my bike toward the back.  After all, the fewer people passing me meant the better I would feel about myself, right?  Except…this was a loop, so those who started ahead of me were going to whip by me regardless.  Ah well…being that I don’t bike much outside (this needs to change!), I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Nor was I completely familiar with my bike…especially on really steep hills and the like, which I didn’t know I’d have to tackle until I was peddling up one.  The bikers were sent off one at a time.  And after about 10 minutes, it was my turn at the starting line.  I was told to go whenever I was ready.  Putting my feet on the pedals…I was off.

8 Mile Bike Time: 34:21

Biking 8 miles on a stationary bike, even with varying resistances, didn’t come close to preparing me for the bike portion of the triathlon.  I started, as instructed, with my bike in the lowest gear, which would ensure a quick start.  That was pretty much all I had right at the start.  From there it was a matter of learning when I needed to be in a higher gear, when I needed to shift back down to an easier one, navigating pot holes, standing up so my bootie didn’t get bruised as I cruised over a makeshift bridge that covered a large hole in the course.  The bike was HARD!

No joke.  I thought, when I signed up, that because I could manage higher resistance on the stationary bike going 8 miles in 25 minutes would be simple.  HAHAHA!!  WRONG.  I didn’t account for fatigue…or hills…or just…not knowing what I was doing.  It’s not as easy as jumping on a bike and peddling.  You have to put a lot of work into your legs to get that bike going and up to speed.  And when I hit that steep incline the first time, I faltered more than a little.  I slowed to a crawl.  But I got up it…and learned a few lessons about my bike in the process.

First of all, my friend Will, who was also doing this (but has done a triathlon before) had those clip-in shoes for his pedals, which he said really do make all the difference.  I sort of laughed it on, but my feet were sliding off my pedals at times.  I could now see his point.  I envied everyone who had those shoes for their bikes.  They would definitely have an easier time.  Secondly, I now knew that higher gears worked better on flat surfaces, and shifting to an easier gear for hills was ideal.  On my second loop of the course, I was starting to get this down.  And by the third and final loop, while my legs were screaming at me because they were tired of peddling the heavy mountain bike up the hill, I did better this time.  And before I knew it, I was peddling into the transition area, hopping off my bike, and running it across the line to stop my timing chip.  This gave me time to rack my bike and start to prep for the run.

Me having just transitioned from the bike to the run at the Floyd County YMCA Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon
Me having just transitioned from the bike to the run at the Floyd County YMCA Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon

2 Mile Run Time: 15:52

No one told me how much my quads would hurt as I transitioned from biking to running.  It took a moment for me to convince them that they needed to move.  And this was the part of the race I felt most confident in.  Here I was, feeling like a complete rookie because now my legs were hurting from pushing it on the bike.  But, I finally got moving and managed to shake it all out the more I ran.  I had walked originally toward the starting line, but Cathy began screaming at me to move it…so I jogged, hit the starting line, and took off.

I immediately passed the person who started running a few moments ahead of me.  I knew that this was my portion and that I could do this well.  I had to look beyond the pain and fatigue in my legs and push…dig deep…find my strong…and conquer the run.  I also knew that at the very end of the run was a hill that would take us up to the flood wall.  So, I was mentally preparing for that too.  The rest of the run was flat, although pock marked with pot holes.  I was just really careful where I planted my feet and kept on moving.  I passed more people.  I saw Will heading the other way.  He waved at me.  And then…I found the turn around point, made my turn and headed back toward the amphitheater.  I passed Will.  I headed up the hill…and I did so with some actual speed.  My legs were feeling good.  I was comfortable.  I was running.  I was doing my thing.

Then…the stairs.

UGH.  Those brought my stride to a stop as running down them was not safe.  I tried…and decided it was not a good idea.  So, I walked them…quickly…and then picked up the run at the bottom, where I followed the path marked by orange cones toward the back of the YMCA.  I passed over the mat that would stop the timing and began the swim transition.  This was the part I wasn’t looking forward to doing.

300 Yard Swim Time: 8:44

How I managed to swim 300 yards in under 9 minutes is still a mystery to me, as it took me 20 minutes when I practiced it the week before.  Go figure.  I’m still perplexed and slightly awed by my finish time for the swim.  Going into this, I knew my legs would be tired, I would be tired, and it was my weakest link in the triathlon as it was.  But, when I sign up for something…I get it done.  Even if I do it slowly.

The transition from running to swimming took me 4 minutes to accomplish.  Why?  Well…I had to peel off my shirt and arm warmers, get rid of my Garmin and Nike Fuel Band.  Then I had to take off my shoes, and strip out of the compression socks.  Compression socks, if they are doing their job properly, are not easy to just peel off and go.  I had to fight a little with them, but I finally managed to get them off so I could make my way over to the pool.  I stepped across the start line, lowered myself into the water, and took off.

I did the crawl stroke for the first few lanes, but decided, as I slowed down and struggled, that the backstroke was going to be necessary if I was going to get through this.  I felt like such a newbie, heading down the lane in a full on backstroke, then coming back in the crawl stroke.  But, you do what you have to do to finish as best you can, right?  I kicked, I flailed my hands and arms, I ripped through the water, up and down each lane, until I made it to the final lane.  I knew I was almost there, and all my energy was fading fast.  But I was so close now.  I backstroked down, flipped over, and made my final swim back in to hoist myself out of the water and get across the finish line, stopping my chip time.

I’m not going to lie…this was difficult for me.  The entire experience, from the weather, to the transitions, to the three sports involved all challenged me in different ways.  They challenged my body.  They made me work hard, push hard, and made me understand that proper training is important.

That being said, my overall finish time was 1:04:03.  I was 81/128 overall.  Not bad for a first triathlon.  I finished 2/5 in my age division.  As for the separate events, I as far as age division went, I was 3/5 on the bike portion; 1/5 on the run portion; and I was 4/5 in the swim portion.  About what I expected.  I didn’t come in last in my age division on anything…but if I had, I figured it would have been the swim.  I was close.  LOL!

Would I do another triathlon?  Maybe a longer one?  Maybe another Super Sprint?  Sure.  I’d love to.  I actually had a really good time, despite the aches and pains I put my body through on the bike and swim.  It was a really good time.  And the YMCA did a fantastic job with enthusiastic volunteers and organization.  This was a great way to be introduced to the endurance events of triathlons.  And if I can ever afford a road bike, I’d like to pursue them further.  But I will never again participate on a heavy mountain bike.  Or, if I must, I’ll at least get out on the roads with it more this spring and fall and get to the gear shirts and using it on hills and flat terrain.  If nothing else, the cross training will only help me improve as a runner, right?

As for swimming, I’m vowing now to be better about hitting the pool at the gym.  Weekends, especially Sunday mornings, might be dedicated to that.  In order to get better, I have to get stronger.  And in order to do that, I have to practice, practice, practice.

But hey…I’m officially a triathlete!

Me having just finished the 300 yard swim and completing the Floyd County Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon
Me having just finished the 300 yard swim and completing the Floyd County Tri-At-The-Y Super Sprint Triathlon


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A moment of heartfelt reflection at the Run For Boston event in Louisville, Kentucky

Before the Run For Boston - Louisville, Kentucky
Before the Run For Boston – Louisville, Kentucky

Yesterday marked a full week since the senseless bombing of the Boston Marathon.  I would be lying to you if I sat here and said that I wasn’t affected.  As human beings, all of us were, in some way, touched by what happened near that finish line.

Boston is about 970 miles away from Louisville, Kentucky.  But the instant I heard about those explosions at the marathon, it felt like my own world was falling apart.  It’s hard to explain the wave of emotions that I’ve been feeling over the past week.  This tragic event literally took my legs out from under me.  I couldn’t watch the news, but I wanted to be informed.  I cried so much this past week, fought back tears when I had to, and just couldn’t get the events at Boston off my mind or my heart.  I was heartbroken over what occurred.

I am the granddaughter of a marathoner.  That running bug must have skipped a generation, but I caught it.  And I have never stopped falling in love with the simple act of running.  In fact, if it’s even possible, in the two years I have been running, I might have learned to love this sport more than anything else I have ever done.  More than my art, my photography, and yes…even my cooking.  There is something so primitive, but so empowering about a run.

It’s not to say every run is a good run, but let’s face it…there are more good runs than bad runs.  And a bad run is just another reason to get up the next day and try it again.  It doesn’t stay bad forever.

Neither do life changing events.  The bombing of the Boston Marathon, for me, was life changing.  I know I wasn’t there…but my heart and soul were.  It’s hard to explain what I mean, but as a runner who aspired to one day be fast enough to qualify for this race (my grandpa never had the chance to run it, but he always wanted to), a part of me was there, with the runners, with the crowd.  Cheering the elite.  Cheering those that came after them.  The spirit of a runner is unbridled, and where there is a race, a part of each of us are there…carried in the hearts, minds, and the soles (get it?) of each runner there.  Whether they know it or not…we are with them.  We’re part of this tightly-knit group, and while we don’t know everyone out there who thinks like us and finds joy in the act of running, we know they are out there.  And every race that runs is proof of that.

The Boston Marathon…is the crème de la crème of marathons.  It has a deep tradition to upkeep, and a history that is like no other race out there.  And, on April 15, 2013, at 2:50 p.m., explosions tore through the finish area.  And the Boston Marathon was brought to a halt.  And with it…the world of every runner who was either there, or watching, or following online…stopped with it.

970 miles between Louisville and Boston.

And something great emerges from the ashes.  Something that the running community here in Louisville really, really needed.

You see, the owner of Fleet Feet Louisville, Jeff Wells, was at Boston.  He had crossed the finish line about 30 minutes before the blasts went off.  In fact, he was on his way back to his hotel, near the site of the second explosion, when it all went down.  His story is moving…and inspiring.  And what Jeff did when he returned to Boston was start to share his story.  And from that…a movement grew.

He said it countless times in interviews.  “We are unstoppable.”

Three simple words, that I really needed to hear.  The Boston Marathon might have been stopped…but we, the running community, are unstoppable.

From there, a movement began.  Jeff began to talk to the other four running stores in the area…his competitors in sales…but his brothers on the road.  Blue Mile, Swags, Pacers and Racers, Ken Combs…they all began talking and putting together this idea…of taking their running groups for a run to commemorate the victims of the bombings at the Boston Marathon.  All proceeds raised from the run would benefit Boston’s The One Fund.

It was brilliant.  And the entire Louisville running community was bolstered by the very idea of having such an event.  The initial plan was to meet at Waterfront Park, and for 26.2 minutes, run, pausing at 6:26 p.m. for a moment of silence for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombing.  The run would happen on the newly opened pedestrian bridge.  Any and all levels were welcome.  Runners, walkers…whoever wanted to be a part of the event…and help make a donation toward The One Fund.

The event, however, got too big.  And with Derby season in full swing here in Louisville, the city couldn’t get us a permit for such a large gathering.  Subsequently, the event was cancelled.  The stores still planned to do their memorial runs…but from each respective store…and that would be that.

But Jeff wasn’t giving up.  He talked to the other stores, and what they came up with was the best alternative and what culminated into one of the most moving moments of my life.  The five local running stores all agreed to leave from their respective stores, or from a meeting place for those further away (they chose the bathrooms at Seneca Park) to run into Cherokee Park and come together at Hogan’s Fountain at 6:26 to observe a moment of silence for what happened in Boston.

I met up with my Monday running group at BlueMile…and soon the store was overflowing with runners and walkers who were looking to participate in the event.  Cathy accompanied me…with a cowbell that she tied up with blue and yellow yarn (the colors of the BAA), and a sign that the two of us worked on for her to hold at the event.  Let’s face it…Cathy is one of the best when it comes to crowd support at races…with cowbell and sign always in hand.  She left early to drive up to Hogan’s Fountain and get situated.  She was the first one there.  She had her sign.  And soon…people started finding her.

My group left BlueMile about 15 minutes before the meetup, giving people time to run up the hill to Hogan’s Fountain and catch their breath before the moment of observance for Boston.  A local news crew was out, and the BlueMile group was filmed on their trek up to Cherokee Park.  The climb up the hill felt somewhat easier than usual.  And when we reached the top…when Hogan’s Fountain was in view…there was a sea of humanity gathered around.  Media was there, taking pictures and filming, and runners were mingling and talking.

I spotted Cathy near the fountain and ran over to talk to her and a few other runners nearby.  Soon, Jeff arrived with the Fleet Feet group.  I finally was able to give him a hug.  It was one of the best hugs ever.  I felt…better.  Then, the five running store owners came together to say a few words.  The prelude to the 6:26 moment of silence was given by the man in charge of Team Sweaty Sheep, a Christian group of athletes (runners, walkers, bikers), who said a few words than encouraged everyone to take a moment to reflect on Boston.  And with that…the hundreds of runners, walkers, and bikers…fell silent.  All I could hear was the shutter of a camera nearby.  And that stopped a second later.  Silence.

It’s hard to explain what I felt in that moment.  A wave of emotion just swept over me.  My shoulders shuddered a little as a few silent tears fell.  I drew in a deep breath, and my heart felt…lighter.  And, after a minute passed, we were sent off to do what we do best.  Run.

I felt better.  All last week, my emotions were all over the place.  I would run sad, run angry, run to break away, run to feel…something.  This time…in the cool spring breeze, in the sunshine that was shining down through the trees in Cherokee Park…I smiled.  I hadn’t found joy in my run since the bombings occurred.  I felt like the darkness was leaving.  I felt…lighter.  I ran 3.25 miles that night…back up the hill to Hogan’s Fountain to meet up with Cathy.  I ran them easy.  No need for speed.  I needed to reflect, feel, and more importantly…smile again.

That small moment of time meant the world to me.  I am so proud to have been a part of that gathering.  I needed to be.  Because, I have been scrambling to come to terms with the senseless act of violence at the Boston Marathon.  I said it before…had I been running…my friends, my family, my roommate (and biggest fan), could have been standing right there.  It’s a fact that isn’t lost on me.  It is a fact that I am constantly reminded of whenever a replay of those explosions comes onto the news.

It can be a scary world out there…but we’re runners.  And what Jeff said was true…

We are unstoppable.

When runners get knocked down, they get back up.  They keep going.  When runners can’t get back up…other runners carry them.  It’s what we do.  When we have no strength left…we somehow find it.  Deep inside us.  It’s there.  And it’s that strength that is going to see us through these hard times.  It’s that strength that sends us out to races still.  The organizer of the Super Sprint Triathlon I participated in on Sunday said something else that resonated with me.  He said that our participation and our simple act of being at the event showed that we would not be bullied.  Runners are strong.  They have to be…especially distance runners.  It’s mind over matter.

Some wounds take time to heal.  I’m not saying I’m whole again, but I’m on the mend.  No longer is my spirit broken, because my soul is that of a runner.  And when the road seems long and the miles ahead endless…I just keep going.  I keep pushing.  I find my strong.  I pick up my feet, I set my gaze ahead, and I overcome.

That’s what happened in Louisville on Monday night at 6:26 p.m.  We all came together…for whatever reasons we were drawn there…and we showed Boston our love and hope for the future of their city and the Boston Marathon.  We made donations to their charity.  We put in miles…some of us for the first time in years.  And, we came away from it changed.  Events like this change you…whether you were there or not.  When you are part of such a tightly knit community like the running community…the ties that bind are so much more than the laces on your shoes.

We are runners.  We are unstoppable.

Boston…Louisville stands strong with you.  There may be 970 miles of road between us…but last night…we were at that finish line at Copley Square.  Last night…we remembered what you endured a week ago.  And we were all moved and touched.  Did you feel the love?  If not…listen closely…hundreds of running shoes pounded the pavement for you.  You might still hear the echoes of it.  Because we all did it…together.

Unstoppable.


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Running to Remember – A Tribute to the Victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing

Me and Nikky pinned up and ready for our run for Boston.
Me and Nikky pinned up and ready for our run for Boston.

Today was a good day.

It feels strange to say that, because good days since Monday, April 15, 2013, have been few and far between.  I’ve had good moments, sure…but my overall attitude, my overall emotional state was rocked…perhaps even shattered when those bombs went off at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  I wasn’t there.  But my heart and soul was.  And every image burned itself into my heart.  I cried…a lot.  I felt down.  Depressed.  Angry.  Sad.  I felt lost.  I felt hopeless.  I felt helpless.  I’ve witnessed quite a few life-changing events in my life, but this one rocked me hard.  This one…hit me right in the chest.

Why?

Because…I am a runner.

So, when my friend Nikky asked on her Facebook page if someone wanted to pace her while she went on her last long run before she began her taper for the Kentucky Derby Mini Marathon coming up in a week…I volunteered.  It’s not often I get to go running with others.  There is my fun run group on Monday, of course, but…most times I’m on my own there too.  So, I jumped on the chance to join her for her 10 mile run.  She was worried that she would be too slow…but I told her it was her job to set the pace…and I would go with it.  I never mind running with people.  And if it means I slow my pace down, I’m more than happy to do it.

So often runners focus on their pace, their time.  I am one of these runners.  I always am looking to better myself.  And so often I forget the joy of just going out for a slow, easy run.  It’s amazing what you see, what you feel, what you notice that you might have missed…

Then, on Thursday, it occurred to me that Nikky and I could do something very special on our 10 miler.  We could run…for Boston.  I pitched the idea at her, and she was totally for it.  Dedicating her long run to a cause…and we’d do it together.  I printed up some race bibs for us to wear, to make it official, and eagerly anticipated our run on Saturday afternoon.

I went out on Saturday morning for an easy 5 miler on my own…a warm-up if you will.  And after grabbing a bite to eat at Jason’s Deli (My pre-race lunch was a gluten-free peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Don’t mock…runners love peanut butter!), I headed to our rendezvous spot, ready to help her do her long run.

We met up at the YMCA and had Cathy get us pinned up (she’s an expert after all).  After that, Cathy went off to grocery shop and Nikky and I headed to the park where we would start our run.  We stretched (she is SO flexible!) and then walked up to the road to get started.  I reassured her that I was more than happy to take her pace and she told me it was okay to push her a little now and then.  So, with that understanding, I let her start us off…up a hill.

We had so much fun.  The miles flew by as we ran around a route she runs often enough.  And we did it wearing our special race bibs, throwing our hands up in the air.  Running for Boston.  It felt good to add a cause to purpose for being out on the roads.  The race bibs just sort of made it feel more official.  It felt good.  We kept our conversations on the light side…speaking of happy things.  We’d talk about Boston…but mostly of the relief that just last night the second suspect was taken into custody…alive.  And how we hoped that justice would be played out.  We talked of races, ones we’ve run, ones that we would like to run.  We talked about our families.  We talked about people we know who run.  We talked about our local running stores.  We would throw our hands up in the air when cars drove by, saying, “We’re running for Boston!”  And we never stopped.  It was refreshing.  It was, honestly, just what I needed.

Ten miles, with hills at the start, hills in the middle, and more hills at the end.  She really had this planned out.  The best part was, she did an amazing job on her run.  We hit 10 miles and I hugged her and congratulated her.  She is amazing and she’s going to do a great job on her run next weekend.  I can tell.  And with crowd support down there, oh…I have a feeling she’ll do better than she even expects.  The important thing is to pace herself.  I am so proud of her.  She rocked it.  She knew when to push and when to let up.  She was determined not to get injured before this race this year…and I am so glad she listened to her body.  Those last two miles, though, she gave it her all.  Yeah…very proud of her.

Proudly wearing our race bibs…we headed to The Comfy Cow for celebratory ice cream.  We talked some more about anything and everything.  And finally, we parted ways.

Today’s run was so cleansing.  It was something we both felt we needed to do.  She had the reason and we both had the time.  Dedicating today’s run to Boston was so heartfelt.  We both were affected by what happened.  Anyone who is a runner or was a runner or even just knows runners was affected by the events in Boston on Monday.  But with every step we took today, we put in miles for the victims of those senseless bombings.  Miles for a good cause.  Miles to remember.  Miles that we shared…with Boston in our hearts and proudly displayed on our tech shirts.  This was Nikky’s run…but she and I made it so much more.

This wasn’t just a training run.  That was what got us out there.  This was a run for remembrance.  This was a run for healing.  We accomplished it.  And we did it together.  One foot in front of the other.  The road rose up to meet us…and we left our heartache and tears behind as we climbed our first hill together…and lifted up Boston.

Thank you, Nikky, for this amazing experience.  We may have only been two people…but we carried the whole of the Boston Marathon with us.  Boston Strong!


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Heartbroken over the 2013 Boston Marathon

Kathrine Switzer
Kathrine Switzer

April 15, 2013 – Patriot Day – The Boston Marathon.

As someone who is looking forward to running in her first marathon, the Chicago Marathon in October, I cannot even put into words how I feel about the senseless bombing of the iconic Boston Marathon.  All I can say is…when I heard the news, I started crying…and then…I started running.  And it has been a struggle to make myself stop doing either one.

I wasn’t in Boston for the marathon, but I feel my heart was.  I knew a few people who were running yesterday.  I know a few people who live there.  And I have been told, by countless people, that they believe I can qualify for this historic, amazing, iconic race.

As a runner, the events that unfolded in Boston ripped through my body and soul.  It was so senseless.

I read the news at work, as the first reports came over my Twitter feed.  I got up and hurried over to Cathy’s desk and relayed the news.  From then on, I was a mess of fighting back tears, receiving texts from friends and family, and just doing my best to keep it together.  There is just something about Boston that touches the runner in all of us.

Yesterday started off really amazing.  I had a running feed of the Boston Marathon going.  I was getting a lot of work done.  I was cheering for my US ladies, Shalane Flanagan (finished 4th) and Kara Goucher (finished 6th) as well as the US men, like Jason Hartmann (finished 4th).  My work situation was tense.  I had apparently pissed off my teammate that morning…and instead of telling me…things just got uncomfortable.  I confronted her on it…she finally just told me the issue.  We resolved it…but I was tense.  And then…explosions ripped through the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  And my world just seemed to stop for a moment.

WHY?  JUST WHY?!  That’s what I didn’t understand.  I still don’t understand.  I try to think the best of people and then some senseless act strikes.  What kind of an asshole bombs a marathon?!  I struggled with news reports the rest of the day, fighting back tears at the office, and ultimately failing every time.  With a heavy heart and puffy, tear-soaked eyes, I left the office and headed home.

I wasn’t home long.  My local running store was putting on their usual Monday night fun run.  They aptly put up over Twitter and Facebook that it was now a Boston Solidarity Walk/Run.  My heart was in it…I didn’t just want to go, I needed to go.  So, after eating dinner very quickly, Cathy and I hopped into the car and drove over to Louisville to my running store for the usual Monday night fun run.  The mood was solemn.  For awhile no one really wanted to talk about it.  But we all had it in our hearts and on our minds.  You just had to look us – our posture, our stoic faces.  We left for our run…and I was going to take it easy and stay with the group.

At first, conversation was about marathons…and security now.  The subject slowly changed…to what people did last weekend…Jurassic Park 3D…and then we hit the hills of Cherokee Park.  A friend of the small group I was with in the lead stopped them, but I kept going.  I couldn’t stop.  My feet needed to move.  Easy, without any speed or power behind it.  Me legs just had to be moving.  They had to run.  And it was when I broke away and really thought about the events of the day, that the tears really started to flow.  I cried my eyes out and my heart out on that run through Cherokee Park.  It felt cleansing and good.  And I know people were wondering why this girl was bawling her eyes out as she ran the loop, but I couldn’t stop the emotions just like I couldn’t stop my feet.  It had to happen.  I needed it to happen.

Hal Higdon, an American writer and runner said it best yesterday in his response to the bombings at Boston.  He said:

“When I first offered the link below, it was to let everyone know who were the winners in today’s Boston Marathon. But there were a lot of losers today: all of us who love the sport of long distance running, all who love the Boston Athletic Association Marathon for all it means to our sport. And ironically from early reports, those who seem to have taken the biggest hit from the explosions were those who cheer us, the spectators standing beside the road. God love them all.”

He’s absolutely right.  The brunt of the attacks didn’t so much hit the runners, but tore through the people who lined the course…those who chose to come out and offer support to the tired runners who were making their way in to the finish line.  They were celebrating the accomplishments of others, cheering, clapping, shouting.  Runners need support like that, especially after a grueling race.  These people were innocent bystanders.  They didn’t have to be out on that street offering their support to those out there running – but that was where they chose to be.

Another reason it hit so hard…had I been running Boston, my family, Cathy, even my friends could have been right there waiting for me to come in, perhaps watching me come in.  Perhaps I would have been done by then.  But…this could have been my loved ones.  It hits hard.  It breaks my heart.  And I am still torn to pieces on the inside over the entire situation.

Runners are some of the kindest and most giving people in the world.  I have met so many amazing and wonderful people in the running community.  This senseless act tore through me…because it affected a world that I am a part of.  I am a runner.  And this hurt.  This stung.  This ripped through me and broke my heart.  I had tears in my eyes this morning as I went out for my morning run.

One of my female running idols, Kathrine Switzer, who has huge ties to the Boston Marathon (GO GIRL!), once said, “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.”

I couldn’t agree more.  To all the runners out there…I know.  I feel it too.  For all of you who choose to come out and cheer at any race, no matter the size or distance…thank you.  You are the true heroes…because you are the ones who pull us through when we need it most.

My heart is with Boston today.  My soul is in Boston today.  My mind is on Boston today.  My love goes out to those who helped…the heroes in Boston, the spectators, the victims, the runners, the residents…

Hug a runner today.  Hug a spectator today.  Because, when it all comes down to it…we’re in this race together.

Stay strong, Boston.


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How far I’ve come

Pride. Power. Passion. I love to run!
Pride. Power. Passion. I simply love to run!

People start running for a variety of reasons.  Most of the time it has something to do with weight…or loving beer…or wanting to eat more without the guilt.  And that’s all fine and good.  I don’t begrudge these types of runners…not at all.  At least they are being active.  But, my advice…find a sport or activity you actually love doing.  Do you like to bike?  You burn a ton of calories biking…give that a shot.  Do you like to walk?  You burn as many calories walking a mile as you do running a mile.  One just gets you there faster.  Don’t expect to stick with running if you don’t really love to run.

That being said…for me, running is about passion.  There are very few things I can honestly point to in this world and say…”This defines me.”  But running…running does.  And I think that’s why I get a bit aggravated with the ones who buy into every gimmick…or new running fad that enters the market.  Running doesn’t have to be complicated.  It’s easy.  One foot in front of the other…forward motion. You don’t have to be fast.  Running doesn’t come with a rule book.  But for anyone out there whose head might be spinning from all this newfangled running stuff…here’s simple advise: Wear proper shoes for your feet, get out and run…and don’t worry about how fast or slow you are, and eat your meals and treats without regrets.  Okay?  This is how I live…every day.  You know why?

I simply love to run.

I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed lacing up my shoes, heading outside, cranking out a couple miles, and returning home, sweaty, spent, and feeling better than when I walked out the door in the first place, until I discovered what running meant to me.  The runner’s high is very real…and I love that feeling of complete domination when everything on a run goes right.  I don’t have to run fast or steady.  I just need to feel that pavement under my Nike’s and take in the sights, sounds, and beauty of whatever road I choose to run.

You see…running runs in my family.  Kind of.  It’s not a gift.  Nor is it a talent that is passed down from generation to generation.  If it were, my dad and his sister would be runners…but they aren’t.  However…my grandpa was.  And he picked it up late in life.  I can’t recall a visit with my grandpa that he didn’t head out for hours to run and come back sweaty and ready for a shower.  You see…he found joy in his runs.  He found himself.  He found…solace, space, euphoria, and freedom.  I never understood why he ran.  I just knew that he started to run in his 50s and he didn’t stop until his late 80s.  He’s run marathons in other countries.  He’s competed in countless road races.  And, when he stopped…it was as if I picked up the torch and found out just what it meant to him to run.  Because I can’t imagine a moment without that feeling I get when I run.

One of my favorite races happened in February 2012…in Birmingham, Alabama.  It was the Making Tracks for Celiacs 5K race.  And my brother-in-law, who had just taken up running, our friend Armand, and myself were running in it.  But grandpa was in town and he said he was going to come along to cheer or see if they needed volunteers to help with water stops or whatever.  And then, he ended up signing up to walk the course.  So, I got to be in a race with my road hero.  It meant so much to me.  Especially since Celiac is something I live with and why I have to be gluten-free.  I’ll never forget that race and how much I smiled when grandpa crossed that finish line.  I was there to cheer for him…and it still makes me smile to this day.

Running didn’t come easy.  In fact, it hurt.  It hurt a lot, at first.  Back in 2003, I was in Ireland with one of my best friends and our car was struck head-on by a truck.  Both of my knees dislocated and since then had been giving me problems.  My first attempts at running were done on the smallest track in the world, the one at my gym, where 18 laps gets you a mile.  It took me awhile to work up to 18 laps.  I bought knee braces that hindered me, so I went without.  And soon, I found my knees no longer bothered me.  And 18 laps wasn’t so daunting.

I had heard about an upcoming 5K in Louisville, Kentucky…right in my backyard, at Cherokee Park.  I told my roommate that if I could run 3 miles in under 30 minutes at the gym, I was going to sign up and make it my first race.  I gave it a go…and at the end, I managed.  I was tired.  I was out of breath.  But I managed.

So, on April 9, 2011, I arrived at Cherokee Park, not realizing how hilly it was, ready to pick up my race number, receive my t-shirt, and go for a run.  My roommate and the receptionist at the office I work in came out to cheer me on.  I didn’t know where to line up or where I was going.  I figured I would just follow everyone else.  This, by the way, is still my method when it comes to racing.  I’m not speedy enough to lead the race, so I just go where everyone else does.  I ran that 5K race in 30:28…and it felt like the hardest thing I had ever done.  But…I was ready for more.

Since then, I have run in every sort of weather imaginable.  I have been injured badly twice, once in June 2011 after the Activate America 5 Miler in Frankfort, Kentucky, where I spent the rest of the summer out of running with a stress fracture in my right foot and bad runner’s knee in my right knee, and on July 21, 2012, when I tore my plantar fascia at the Grand Slam 4 Miler race in Louisville, Kentucky.  I truly missed running when I was down with these injuries.  I would cry, and I know I was a terror to live with.  My roommate was very supportive and very, very kind to put up with me.

See…passion.  If I didn’t love to do it…I wouldn’t have been crying because I couldn’t.

I’ve run countless 5Ks, some 4 milers, some 5 milers, a couple of 10Ks, some quarter marathons, a 15K, half-marathons (in fact, I ran a total of 6 last year!), and am now in training for my first marathon, which I will take on in October.  I’ve come a long way from that girl on the track at the gym.

I was spring cleaning the other day and getting some organization done around the apartment.  My roommate was helping me get my running gear and goods in order and when I pulled down the medals I had simply been hanging on a Care Bear on the top of my bookshelf.  She said to organize them and take some pictures.  So…I did.  It’s like looking back almost 2 years in time and seeing what all I managed to accomplish…plus more that I have no awards for, but happy memories.

Below are the pictures we took of the various awards I have been lucky enough to receive during my life on the run.

Participant Awards:

Race Participant Medals: Top Row: Athenaeum Volksmarch (walking), Geist 5K (2011), Indianapolis Women's 5K (2011), Tap N Run Louisville (2011), The Shamrock 2 Miler (2012); Bottom Row: Hope For The Children 5K (2012), Bunny Hop 5K (2012), Geist 5K (2012), The Leprechaun 2 Miler (2013)
Race Participant Medals – Top Row: Athenaeum Volksmarch (walking) (2009), Geist 5K (2011), Indianapolis Women’s 5K (2011), Tap N Run Louisville (2011), The Shamrock 2 Miler (2012); Bottom Row: Hope For The Children 5K (2012), Bunny Hop 5K (2012), Geist 5K (2012), The Leprechaun 2 Miler (2013)

Division Awards:

Top Row: Tomorrow's Children 5K (2011 - 1st in division), Doug's Run 10K (2011 - 1st in division), Tomorrow's Children 5K (2012 - 1st in division), Pro.Active For Life 5K (2012 - 1st in division), Activate America 5 Miler (2012 - 2nd in division), Walk Away From Colon Cancer 5K Run (2012 - 3rd in division), Million Mutt March 5K (2012 - 1st in division); Bottom Row: Reindeer Romp 4K (2012 - 3rd in division), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012 - 3rd in division), Frostbite 5K (2013 - 2nd in division), Snowman Shuffle 4 Miler (2013 - 2nd in division), Polar Bear Grand Prix (2013 - 1st in division overall from 3 races), Run For The Gold 3K (2013 - 1st in division)
Race Division Awards – Top Row: Tomorrow’s Children 5K (2011 – 1st in division), Doug’s Run 10K (2011 – 1st in division), Tomorrow’s Children 5K (2012 – 1st in division), Pro.Active For Life 5K (2012 – 1st in division), Activate America 5 Miler (2012 – 2nd in division), Walk Away From Colon Cancer 5K Run (2012 – 3rd in division), Million Mutt March 5K (2012 – 1st in division); Bottom Row: Reindeer Romp 4K (2012 – 3rd in division), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012 – 3rd in division), Frostbite 5K (2013 – 2nd in division), Snowman Shuffle 4 Miler (2013 – 2nd in division), Polar Bear Grand Prix (2013 – 1st in division overall from 3 races), Run For The Gold 3K (2013 – 1st in division)

Race Medals (10K-Half Marathon):

10K - Half Marathon Medals - Top Row: Chicago Half Marathon (2011), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2011), OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini Marathon (2012), Rock 'N Sole Quarter Marathon (2012), Minneapolis Half Marathon (2012), Indianapolis Women's Half Marathon (2012); Bottom Row: Air Force Marathon 10K (2012), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2012), Hershey Half Marathon (2012), Louisville Sports Commission Half Marathon (2012), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012), Disney Princess Half Marathon
10K – Half Marathon Race Medals – Top Row: Chicago Half Marathon (2011), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2011), OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini Marathon (2012), Rock ‘N Sole Quarter Marathon (2012), Minneapolis Half Marathon (2012), Indianapolis Women’s Half Marathon (2012); Bottom Row: Air Force Marathon 10K (2012), Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2012), Hershey Half Marathon (2012), Louisville Sports Commission Half Marathon (2012), Santa Hustle Half Marathon (2012), Disney Princess Half Marathon (2013)

And, not pictured are the pint glass I received for taking 1st in my division at the Race for the Berries (2012), the Louisville Slugger Bat I received for winning 1st in my division at the Big Hit Quarter Marathon (2012), and the Hot Chocolate 15K (2012) finisher’s cup I picked up in Columbus, Ohio.  It was full of chocolate goodness.  What a great reason to run!

You know…the bling is nice and all…but I never run these races trying to walk away with an award.  I stay and I cheer for those who do.  Sometimes…I get surprised and win one myself.  But the fact is…I run these races because somewhere out there on the road, through my own training runs and through races, I found myself.  I found my smile.  I found something in life I love to do.  I don’t have to be good at it.  I just have to be good enough for me.

And I am.  I’m strong.  And I’m getting stronger and better.  I know this was something I was meant to do.  I wish I had realized that earlier in life.  But here I am in my early 30s and I have some of the best conversations with my grandpa about running.  We compare race shirts.  I listen to his stories about running in Germany and around Minnesota.  My inspiration continues to inspire me to this day.

I have my grandpa to thank for giving me the inspiration and the drive.  I have that little track at the gym for giving me my initial running challenges.  And I have a small, local race on April 9, 2011 to thank for getting me hooked on the sport.  When it comes down to it…if you want to do something for life…make sure it’s something you love.

My life has changed for the better since I took up running.  I can’t picture my world without my time to run…be it on my own or in a race.  It’s soothing.  It’s fun.  And it’s my passion.  These legs have carried me pretty far in two years.  I can’t wait to see where else they take me next!


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Papa John’s 10 Miler – Louisville, KY (April 6, 2013)

Me crossing the finish line of the Papa John's 10 Miler - Cardinal Stadium, Louisville, Kentucky
Me crossing the finish line of the Papa John’s 10 Miler – Cardinal Stadium, Louisville, Kentucky

Race: Papa John’s 10 Miler

Place: Louisville, Kentucky

Date: April 6, 2013

Time: 1:18:52

I hate not being at the top of my game for a race.  It doesn’t happen often.  In fact, this year has marked the first time since I took up running where I have actually run while sick.  It just hasn’t happened to me before.  But these past two races in the Louisville Triple Crown of Running have proven that even when my body is fighting off sickness…it can do amazing things.  Even when I doubt it.

Bronchitis sucks.  It sucks regardless, but it sucks even more when you are a runner.  Breath control is so important when it comes to running…and when each breath is a wheezing gasp, it sort of makes an easy run feel that much harder.  I started to come down with bronchitis on March 17th, just after the Run For The Gold 3K in Frankfort, Kentucky.  Since then, it has been a struggle for me to train for my upcoming races, particularly my half marathon in 27 days up in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  But, I’ve trained through it.  I’ve slowed down…because I don’t like breaking into a coughing fit…and I’ve come to terms with between the end of this bronchitis and the start up of allergy season…this might turn into an interesting spring racing season for me.

Oy vey!

To put it bluntly…on Saturday morning, when I woke up and got dressed to go run in the Papa John’s 10 Miler…I felt off.  I felt very off.  I’d take a step and I’d lose my balance.  This hadn’t happened before.  But, no time to worry with it.  I had cereal to eat, coffee to make and then consume, and a race to get to.

My roommate work up about 45 minutes after I was up.  I usually like to get up over an hour ahead of her so I don’t feel rushed, but she wanted to be down at Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium at 7 a.m., and she is notoriously S-L-O-W in the morning and I really, really, really didn’t want a 4 a.m. wake-up.  So, I set my alarm for 5 a.m., told myself that I would immediately get up and make coffee (she can’t drink hers right from the pot…it has to sit and cool down for like 20 minutes…but, get this, she doesn’t like cold coffee either…) so it would be ready.  I got the coffee pot working and went to go slip into the other uniform my company purchased for me to run in.  NCL representing in Louisville!  WOOT!

This uniform is red…and…as this was Saturday, the Louisville men’s basketball team was attempting to make their way into the Final Four…so I knew red was going to be one popular color.  So that Cathy would be able to spot me at the end of the race, I decided to wear my pink compression socks and a bright orange BondiBand.  This BondiBand just happened to be the exact one I wore to last year’s race…that declares: Beat The Hill!  It seems fitting, given that the 3 middle miles of this race are spent inside one of Louisville’s hilliest parks: Iroquois.

I figured my clashing, but colorful, attire would at least make it a bit easier to see me coming as I rounded into the stadium and headed for that finish line.  Hey…runner’s don’t have to match and I love being, as my co-worker puts it, “Rainbow Brite.”  Which means…the more colors, the better.  And the brighter…the better.  I laugh at people who are afraid of being a riot of color.  Running isn’t about being a fashionista, it’s about being a fastiniesta!

So, when Cathy dragged her hiney out of her room, I handed her a bowl of cereal and sat down with my own and a cup of coffee.  I ate and got my small dose of caffeine then went to clean my dishes.  I was pretty much set to go, except to brush my teeth.  So, I did that, gathered up what I needed and let her pin my bib onto my shirt.  She scrambled around making last minute additions to her packing in her backpack, added my SmartWater and my Arbonne vegan chocolate protein shake.  She grabbed the sign and we headed out to make the drive over the river to Louisville and attempt to find parking around Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium.

Believe it or not, parking was super easy.  So, we were now down there with plenty of time to kill.  Oh well.  We wandered up toward the stadium and I ducked inside to use the bathroom, you know…the kind that has a flushing toilet and running water (I am a princess!).  With that, we went to take the stairs up to the bridge that would then take us over a hill, around a corner, past the busy Starbucks and a line of port-a-potties to about where the start was going to be.  The starting gate was inflated and ready to go…but no one was really up that way yet.  Everyone sort of hung back and did their stretching and whatever pre-race rituals they have.

I moved away from the wafting air of the port-a-potties and began to do my usual pre-race stretches.  I wanted to make sure I got plenty of stretching in because I knew those hills at Iroquois Park were going to be difficult, even on the tale end of bronchitis.  I don’t run Iroquois Park much due to it being way out of the way.  Cherokee, Seneca, and the little park over near where I live…I run those often.  Not Iroquois.  It isn’t in the best part of Louisville for one thing…and it just, as I said, isn’t really convenient for me to run in.  I think I should start doing more of it so I can really work on those hills.

With my muscles stretched, I finally saw some movement of runners up toward the starting line…so Cathy and I made our way up that way as well.  I shed the hoodie I was still wearing, given the air was still a bit chilly at that point.  Just nudging up toward 50 degrees.  It was perfect weather for the run.  I was just going to run what felt comfortable to me.  No sense pushing too hard and throwing myself into a coughing fit.  That was the plan.  The National Anthem was sung and we all stood there, with no flag, but still respectful.  And then…we were told that we had about 10 minutes to the start of the Papa John’s 10 Miler.  So, Cathy gave me a hug and told me to have a great run…and then she disappeared, leaving me standing with my peeps…the other runners who were just as eager to get underway.

The wheelchair racers (there were two of them this year…one in a racing chair and one in a regular chair) were sent off a minute before the rest of the pack was.  The countdown was on.  And soon, we had the “Runners…set.”  And the air horn sent us off on our way once again.

It took about a minute to get up to the starting line.  I hit my Garmin and stepped over the sensor.  And I never heard my Garmin beep, so I hit it again…saw Cathy…waved…and kept on trekking with the group I was with.  I glanced down once at my Garmin and noticed it wasn’t even counting my time…so I restarted it and was now a bit off for the rest of the race.  But…I wasn’t going to utilize the Garmin.  I just wore it because…I always do.

And so, we wennt down Third Street, where Churchill Downs was visible in the early morning light.  The first mile had us winding through neighborhoods and down the streets toward Iroquois Park.  A water stop came up very early and I think most runners chose to bypass it and keep on trekking.  The first three miles of this race are relatively flat, except for a few minor inclines in the road.  Nothing too taxing.  But after you wind down Southern Parkway and over on to New Cut Road…Iroquois Park is straight ahead.  And that means…it’s time to run for the hills.

The route through Iroquois Park was winding and hilly.  We enter the park near a small playground and immediately hit the path that will take us by the beautiful amphitheater and into the wilderness.  Don’t get me wrong, I find Iroquois Park stunning and beautiful.  The races I run there are always challenging and push me to the very brink of my ability.  And I always tell myself to dig deep and find my strong.  But today…I was being zen…this race was just about getting to that finish line.  And that seemed daunting when my legs got their first taste of the hills that awaited me.  Not only did my legs feel the burn, but so did my lungs.  For the first time since starting the run, I was no longer breathing easy.  I had that lingering phlegm in my throat, that no matter how often I cleared it…would come right back.  The lungs were definitely not happy with the additional effort.  But, when I signed up for the Triple Crown of Running, I didn’t count on having bronchitis either.  You just do what you can and hope for the best.

Somehow, I managed those hills and fought the burn in my chest and throat and rocked out those three miles through the park.  I pushed myself just enough to feel the effort on the uphills, and I coasted on the downhills.  I grabbed a water bottle just after Mile 4 and took a sip just to get something wet in my throat.  I tossed the rest of it and continued on.  And that was all it took.  With a great deal of determination, I made the turn out of Iroquois Park and back onto Southern Parkway.  That meant that I was down to the final four miles.  I knew I could do this.  I was suddenly feeling a lot better about the race now that I was through the most challenging part.

There is one thing that I will always applaud this race for, and it is the scattered entertainment along the way.  The various DJs that spun out tunes as we ran past were very much appreciated.  I no longer run with an iPod in races, finding that it is more of a hindrance than a help.  I run better without a pace being set for me.  I know, I used to whine and complain about not being able to wear my headphones…now, I’m happy to leave them behind.  The evolution of a runner.  Anyway, the music was great and some runners, like Fleet Feet Louisville’s very own Jeff Wells, hopped out of the course to go and boogie to Love Shack.  It made me smile and I was having a blast.

Before I knew it, I was coming up on Mile 9, right at the corner of the Starbucks…the very one we started near.  I could see Papa John’s Cardinal Stadium and knew I just had to get up that hill and from there, it was straight on down, into the stadium, and across that finish line.  It was hard.  My legs were not feeling the last hill here…but I was so close.  I pushed, and I fought my way up that hill and when I crested it, I coasted down with other runners and pressed on toward the turn that would take us toward the stadium.

I remembered how difficult it was to go from asphalt to AstroTurf from the previous run, but I still hit that softer surface and had to regather my footing a bit.  That is NOT an easy transition.  That being said, the finish line was a short spin around the football field.  I rounded that first corner…and could hear Cathy yelling at me.  I rounded the next corner and the finish line was ahead.  I attempted to give some kick to my step…whether that worked or not, I don’t know.  I’m still working on that final kick at the end of the race.  And with bronchitis…I wasn’t pushing it.

Me after finishing the Papa John's 10 Miler with a new PR. Feeling good even if I felt off that morning!
Me after finishing the Papa John’s 10 Miler with a new PR. Feeling good even if I felt off that morning!

And I finished.  I finished strong.  And smiling.  And I felt great.  The Brightroom photographer up on the ladder leaned down and said, “Congratulations, Karen!”  No, my name is not on my bib…he notices my sign at every race.  Does that mean you’re famous when the race photographers recognize you and can call you by name?  LOL!

Anyway…the official results of the 2013 Papa John’s 10 Miler were that I finished in 1:18:52 seconds, shaving over 10 minutes off my time from last year.  I couldn’t believe it.  Especially since I felt I ran Iroquois much better last year.  Shaving 10 minutes off of a finishing time is awesome.  And that happened when I was having gluten issues, retaining water, and fighting bronchitis.  ROCK ON!!  I was 525/6108 overall, the 91/3466 female to cross the finish line, and I was 20/600 in my division.  I couldn’t be more proud of myself.

After the race, I made my way out to the recovery area and spotted Cathy with the sign.  I ran up a hill and we celebrated with much screaming and jumping over my new PR for a 10 mile race.  I enjoyed a banana and my Arbonne protein shake.  And then…we made our way out to attempt to get to our car.

If I haven’t said it enough, I am going to say it again…the Louisville Triple Crown of Running is such a great race series.  This is the second year I have participated in all three races and I am very much looking forward to doing it again next year.  Maybe even getting a little faster…a little stronger…and a little bit better on those hills.  But of all the races, I’ve always loved the 10 Miler the most.  Why?  I love distance races so much better than 5Ks and the like.  Which makes this race so ideal for me…not a sprinter…but one who is in it for the long run.

One thing I did notice, though…last year I stated in my blog that at each of the Triple Crown races, I set a new PR.  The same held true this year.  How awesome is that?  Oh yeah, I’m already gearing up for next year!