Just signed up for two fall races and saved myself $10 before the prices were set to increase. I'm down for the habit-forming Scotiabank half-marathon (third year in a row!), to be followed by the fun Zoo Run (second consecutive year). I'm going to let the spring go as far as races are concerned -- though may be convinced to do one if the timing is right -- but really focus on doing well later this year. My sister isn't likely to avenge the half-distance this year, but I'm sure she'll sign up for the 10K. It's practically family tradition now. I only remembered to sign up for either race because of my cousin (sorry I didn't phone you back today!). So I hope she's committed to it already too.
By the way, I have not unpacked my running shoes from Cincinnati. I kid you not.
Tuesday, May 27
Sunday, May 11
Looking for the next PB
Runners are always striving to achieve the next personal best. It makes us feel good because it's a sign that we're progressing in our training. Who doesn't like to improve?
Cincinnati wasn't about my personal best half-marathon race time, but it was certainly a personal best in sisterly-relationships. I had said I'd immediately thought about my next race shortly after rolling through the finish line.
I targeted Mississaugua, knowing it was a week after Cincinnati. A good local one to jump into, one that I could be ready for right now. Incidentally my buddy E., as well as R-Cane, were running the full distance [Good luck boys!] I thought about signing up for it all the way home during the 10-hour car ride. I consulted Yumke, my cousin, my sister. My sister offered to pay half my entry fee to Miss (I guess she still felt guilty for my sticking with her). I even filled out the online form and almost pressed "submit". But, I couldn't do it. I've been sick this week with a cold. Or maybe it's allergies. Either way, my eyes haven't stopped watering, my nose is raw from all the tissues, and I have been having some intermittent violent coughing fits.
So nevermind.
Then I started to fall in love with the idea of the race weekend at the end of May in the capital city, Ottawa. I've always heard good things about this one. It's only 4 hours away and I'm certain a cousin of mine would be more than thrilled to host me and cheer me on. And then I checked my calendar. D'oh, I'm booked for a convention that weekend.
So.... I'm still looking for another (fairly local) spring half marathon. If it happens, great. If not, it's not the end of the world. But I think I may just wait until the fall and run the Waterfront Half. PB or not, if I get out the door, that is a personal best in my books.
Cincinnati wasn't about my personal best half-marathon race time, but it was certainly a personal best in sisterly-relationships. I had said I'd immediately thought about my next race shortly after rolling through the finish line.
I targeted Mississaugua, knowing it was a week after Cincinnati. A good local one to jump into, one that I could be ready for right now. Incidentally my buddy E., as well as R-Cane, were running the full distance [Good luck boys!] I thought about signing up for it all the way home during the 10-hour car ride. I consulted Yumke, my cousin, my sister. My sister offered to pay half my entry fee to Miss (I guess she still felt guilty for my sticking with her). I even filled out the online form and almost pressed "submit". But, I couldn't do it. I've been sick this week with a cold. Or maybe it's allergies. Either way, my eyes haven't stopped watering, my nose is raw from all the tissues, and I have been having some intermittent violent coughing fits.
So nevermind.
Then I started to fall in love with the idea of the race weekend at the end of May in the capital city, Ottawa. I've always heard good things about this one. It's only 4 hours away and I'm certain a cousin of mine would be more than thrilled to host me and cheer me on. And then I checked my calendar. D'oh, I'm booked for a convention that weekend.
So.... I'm still looking for another (fairly local) spring half marathon. If it happens, great. If not, it's not the end of the world. But I think I may just wait until the fall and run the Waterfront Half. PB or not, if I get out the door, that is a personal best in my books.
Saturday, May 10
Week later post-race thoughts (a quasi-race report)
My sister's guest post was pretty much how it all played out. No need for me to fill in random details, except that, with the exception of our lead speed piggie Yumke, I'm happy we managed to run with all the rest of the Canadian bacon crew in this race. We started the race with Cousin, ran with Grasshopper from Mile 2.5-4, walked with his entourage just past the halfway mark, and finished to the delirious cheers of all our curbside grunts (ie family).
As I hobbled (I was surprised that I was surprised that my legs would feel the way they did since we'd walked most of the course) back to my hotel after all les felicitations from the family, I was already thinking about my next race. It's not that I feel I "wasted" my half-assed winter training, but I did sign up to run this race.
I was never going to abandon my sister during her first-ever half marathon. If I inspired her to lace up in the first place, it's practically my duty to stick with her for this distance. I said from the moment we'd signed up for this race that I'd see her to the finish. And that's what I did. No matter how many times she tried to push me away, I just held firm ("I'm on you like bad B.O., just try to get rid of me") and talked to her. At times I thought to myself, whether we were doing more damage to her leg just by continuing, while simultaneously cursing the non-existent medical help. It didn't seem that my sister thought quitting was an option. As long as she had the power to put one foot in front of another, she was going to get to the finish line. And so we soldiered on. Sometimes running a few hundred meters, but mostly walking. We'd started on a 12-minute mile pace and held it for four miles. Not bad. But when her leg started hurting, the time to cover a mile eventually stretched to 20+-minutes because of the starting and stopping. My sister would freak out about "her time" but I'd say, "sista, we in this for completion. Everything else is gravy. You worry about your 'time' next time. This is a PB before we started."
Somewhere between Miles 8-10, I think she stopped listening to my optimistic chitchat, and just complained. One reason for these outbursts was hunger. Anyone that knows either of us knows that if we start getting cranky, No. 1 resolution is to feed us. We're probably just hungry and our anger is being misplaced. (Aside: last year, my sister and her husband went to Spain and her husband learned to carry a cache of almonds in his pockets for any hint of a hunger-induced rant). All we had were the sportsbeans and by this time, they just weren't that satisfying. What we needed was food. Even I nearly succumbed to the pangs.
But by the time we got to Mile 12, we were ready to finish strong. We didn't stop, not once, on the final 1.1 mile. I kept an eye out along the side of the road for the family. In fact, they were on an upper walkway and I can't believe I could hear them yelling my sister's name above all the din. But I pointed them out to my sister, and whispered with tears welling up in my eyes, that I was so very proud of her.
We raised our arms in triumph. There's nothing like crossing the finish line. And then two bags of ice taped to the knees immediately.
As I hobbled (I was surprised that I was surprised that my legs would feel the way they did since we'd walked most of the course) back to my hotel after all les felicitations from the family, I was already thinking about my next race. It's not that I feel I "wasted" my half-assed winter training, but I did sign up to run this race.
I was never going to abandon my sister during her first-ever half marathon. If I inspired her to lace up in the first place, it's practically my duty to stick with her for this distance. I said from the moment we'd signed up for this race that I'd see her to the finish. And that's what I did. No matter how many times she tried to push me away, I just held firm ("I'm on you like bad B.O., just try to get rid of me") and talked to her. At times I thought to myself, whether we were doing more damage to her leg just by continuing, while simultaneously cursing the non-existent medical help. It didn't seem that my sister thought quitting was an option. As long as she had the power to put one foot in front of another, she was going to get to the finish line. And so we soldiered on. Sometimes running a few hundred meters, but mostly walking. We'd started on a 12-minute mile pace and held it for four miles. Not bad. But when her leg started hurting, the time to cover a mile eventually stretched to 20+-minutes because of the starting and stopping. My sister would freak out about "her time" but I'd say, "sista, we in this for completion. Everything else is gravy. You worry about your 'time' next time. This is a PB before we started."
Somewhere between Miles 8-10, I think she stopped listening to my optimistic chitchat, and just complained. One reason for these outbursts was hunger. Anyone that knows either of us knows that if we start getting cranky, No. 1 resolution is to feed us. We're probably just hungry and our anger is being misplaced. (Aside: last year, my sister and her husband went to Spain and her husband learned to carry a cache of almonds in his pockets for any hint of a hunger-induced rant). All we had were the sportsbeans and by this time, they just weren't that satisfying. What we needed was food. Even I nearly succumbed to the pangs.
But by the time we got to Mile 12, we were ready to finish strong. We didn't stop, not once, on the final 1.1 mile. I kept an eye out along the side of the road for the family. In fact, they were on an upper walkway and I can't believe I could hear them yelling my sister's name above all the din. But I pointed them out to my sister, and whispered with tears welling up in my eyes, that I was so very proud of her.
We raised our arms in triumph. There's nothing like crossing the finish line. And then two bags of ice taped to the knees immediately.
Wednesday, May 7
Guest blogger: Sister's race report
I convinced my sister to guest-blog her thoughts about her first half-marathon experience. Her race was my race. She wrote a first draft on the night we returned to Toronto from Cincinnati, but was reluctant to have me post it. I let her marinate on it overnight (after I teared up a little.... again) so she could edit it down. "It was fun to write -- cathartic -- it felt good to write down how I felt about it because I just wasn't satisfied with the race," she said. She agreed to let me post this... as long as I wrote my own race report as a companion piece -- companion being the key word here -- which I will publish later this week.
"It wasn't really how I imagined The Flying Pig Half Marathon - me, practically dragging my right leg through the finish line, almost 4 hours after the race started.
But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. I mean, my right leg had been hurting since I maxed out at 14 km on April 13th. Since then, I've never been able to run more than 5K. And my physiotherapist was reluctant to even let me run it at all. But he showed me how to tape my ankle anyways, since I was pretty resigned to do it. All the signs were there that I wouldn't be able to run this race fully... but I thought I would try. Weak ankle or no weak ankle - I was going to at least start the race!!
I woke up at 4:45 on Sunday morning. As I stumbled around in the dark and tried to stay awake at the unearthly hour, I started to feel the nerves in my stomach. I had to tape my ankle but wasn't sure how I was going to do it. The night before, I had tried to tape my ankle the way my physiotherapist had showed me. Unfortunately, the tape was generic crap from Walgreens and I couldn't get it to stay put properly. As a result, I had to try my luck at getting my ankle wrapped at the medical tent -- something that would not happen until much later.
My cousin, my sister, and I started walking towards the start of the race around 6:15 am.. I looked around anxiously for the medical tent but there was no sign. I found a guy with a Flying Pig badge on his jacket. I asked him where the tent was and he said he wasn't sure but said we should check the front of the race. Turns out, no one really knew what they were talking about when it came to the medical tents. I realized that I wouldn't have time to get my ankle taped, even with the 15 minute delay in the start of the race due to a fire somewhere along the marathon route. We ended up in a pack of marathoners slated for a 3:30 finish - way too advanced for me but we couldn't get back any further.
Finally, the race started. My first ever half-marathon. My sister told me she wasn't going to leave me - I knew she wouldn't but I didn't push her away anymore either - and we started off really well. I was pretty much loving every minute of it while my wobbly right ankle was still holding up (fyi, I actually don't feel pain in my ankle - the instability in it causes the pain in my knee and calf as they try to compensate for the weakness). We crossed underneath the first bridge and I saw B. and G. standing up there cheering us on. Felt great. Ran across the first bridge into Covington, Kentucky. Felt even more awesome. Mile 1 passes... mile 2 passes... my endurance has definitely been built up since I started training. Soon we're heading back into Ohio and as we approach mile 3, and I know that my knee pain will start at any step now. I could feel it coming on - it starts behind my knee cap. And then my hamstring starts to feel super-tight and a string of pain runs down my calf. I had maxed out at mile 3, which has been my cap for the past two weeks. I started walking. I don't feel pain when I walk.
So we walked and looked for the medical tent that should've been located around mile 3. But I didn't see any - and so we went all the way to mile 5. We asked and waited for a medical person on a bike to come by. I mean, they were summoned. Where were they? Time was ticking by and the part of me that gets frustrated with late people started to come out. I couldn't stand still any longer, I made my sister take off and we walked to Mile 7 where there was a promise of a STATIONARY medical tent. We get to mile 7 and sure enough, there was a medical tent. Only they were only equipped with BAND AIDS. I was about to leave in a huff when one of the attendants came back with tape. Finally. Except, I was taped up rather unprofessionally (probably didn't help that I said to the girl, "Do you know how to tape an ankle?" But it also didn't help that they were all about the band aids either!!) and as soon as I started to walk on it, my circulation was pretty much nonexistent So, as we started up the hill to Eden Park, I had to rip off the bandage again. The theme of my race was starting to become clear - this is RIDICULOUS!! A bike guy asked me if I wanted band aids as he watched me rip off the ankle tape in a fit of "this is ridiculous!" rage and someone was summoned to tape up my ankle again. This time, the med guy was much more proficient as I sat on the side of the road and had my ankle taped up. I did have to get my sis to rip off the heel part and then I was on my way again. I was getting super irritated that we were so behind where we once were when we were running - now there seriously weren't that many people behind us. Apparently 40 minutes had passed since we first tried to get medical attention. You just can't make up that kind of time!
I had to loosen the tape so we walked some more. We walked until I felt semi-confident that I'd be able to run a little bit. So we did. But then we stopped again. And then we started again. Then stopped. The pain in my leg was getting worse. I knew I couldn't do it and I was definitely feeling sorry for myself. I complained. And my sister listened. And this went on from mile 7 to mile 12. And then finally, we went for it and ran. And we ran until the end. My leg was really hurting but I didn't care. I had to run the last mile. I wanted to run across the finish line. My sister stayed with me the whole time. She pointed up and told me our family was watching us from the second level of the staduim. They were jumping up and down and screaming. I waved. We crossed the finish line together. She held me up the whole way even though I was feeling so down (and probably bringing her down too...not probably - definitely!)
We finished the race together. We teared up together. And then we went into the medical tent together and she watched me get giant ice packs taped to my right leg.
I don't regret starting the race. Not for a second. I do regret dragging my sister into my poor performance, but at the same time, there was no way I would have been able to finish without her. She was my rock throughout and I wish I could let her know how much it meant to me. After all, she's the one who inspired me to run in the first place. My cousin did really awesome and I'm so proud of her. Next time sis and I are going to be by her side!!
I'm going to go back to physio and try to get stronger for next time. Yes, there HAS to be a next time because I won't let this race be the only half marathon I've ever finished. My body beat me this time but my mind was ready to do it. So I'll just have to work harder next time. More cross-training and less bronchitis at the beginning of training.
In October 2007, I told everybody that would listen that I was going to run a half marathon. I hadn't even signed up yet. I just wanted to get it out there so then I'd have to do it. I don't like going back on my word.
I'm going to run another half marathon when my leg gets better. I've said it... So now I'll have to do it."
"It wasn't really how I imagined The Flying Pig Half Marathon - me, practically dragging my right leg through the finish line, almost 4 hours after the race started.
But I guess I shouldn't really be surprised. I mean, my right leg had been hurting since I maxed out at 14 km on April 13th. Since then, I've never been able to run more than 5K. And my physiotherapist was reluctant to even let me run it at all. But he showed me how to tape my ankle anyways, since I was pretty resigned to do it. All the signs were there that I wouldn't be able to run this race fully... but I thought I would try. Weak ankle or no weak ankle - I was going to at least start the race!!
I woke up at 4:45 on Sunday morning. As I stumbled around in the dark and tried to stay awake at the unearthly hour, I started to feel the nerves in my stomach. I had to tape my ankle but wasn't sure how I was going to do it. The night before, I had tried to tape my ankle the way my physiotherapist had showed me. Unfortunately, the tape was generic crap from Walgreens and I couldn't get it to stay put properly. As a result, I had to try my luck at getting my ankle wrapped at the medical tent -- something that would not happen until much later.
My cousin, my sister, and I started walking towards the start of the race around 6:15 am.. I looked around anxiously for the medical tent but there was no sign. I found a guy with a Flying Pig badge on his jacket. I asked him where the tent was and he said he wasn't sure but said we should check the front of the race. Turns out, no one really knew what they were talking about when it came to the medical tents. I realized that I wouldn't have time to get my ankle taped, even with the 15 minute delay in the start of the race due to a fire somewhere along the marathon route. We ended up in a pack of marathoners slated for a 3:30 finish - way too advanced for me but we couldn't get back any further.
Finally, the race started. My first ever half-marathon. My sister told me she wasn't going to leave me - I knew she wouldn't but I didn't push her away anymore either - and we started off really well. I was pretty much loving every minute of it while my wobbly right ankle was still holding up (fyi, I actually don't feel pain in my ankle - the instability in it causes the pain in my knee and calf as they try to compensate for the weakness). We crossed underneath the first bridge and I saw B. and G. standing up there cheering us on. Felt great. Ran across the first bridge into Covington, Kentucky. Felt even more awesome. Mile 1 passes... mile 2 passes... my endurance has definitely been built up since I started training. Soon we're heading back into Ohio and as we approach mile 3, and I know that my knee pain will start at any step now. I could feel it coming on - it starts behind my knee cap. And then my hamstring starts to feel super-tight and a string of pain runs down my calf. I had maxed out at mile 3, which has been my cap for the past two weeks. I started walking. I don't feel pain when I walk.
So we walked and looked for the medical tent that should've been located around mile 3. But I didn't see any - and so we went all the way to mile 5. We asked and waited for a medical person on a bike to come by. I mean, they were summoned. Where were they? Time was ticking by and the part of me that gets frustrated with late people started to come out. I couldn't stand still any longer, I made my sister take off and we walked to Mile 7 where there was a promise of a STATIONARY medical tent. We get to mile 7 and sure enough, there was a medical tent. Only they were only equipped with BAND AIDS. I was about to leave in a huff when one of the attendants came back with tape. Finally. Except, I was taped up rather unprofessionally (probably didn't help that I said to the girl, "Do you know how to tape an ankle?" But it also didn't help that they were all about the band aids either!!) and as soon as I started to walk on it, my circulation was pretty much nonexistent So, as we started up the hill to Eden Park, I had to rip off the bandage again. The theme of my race was starting to become clear - this is RIDICULOUS!! A bike guy asked me if I wanted band aids as he watched me rip off the ankle tape in a fit of "this is ridiculous!" rage and someone was summoned to tape up my ankle again. This time, the med guy was much more proficient as I sat on the side of the road and had my ankle taped up. I did have to get my sis to rip off the heel part and then I was on my way again. I was getting super irritated that we were so behind where we once were when we were running - now there seriously weren't that many people behind us. Apparently 40 minutes had passed since we first tried to get medical attention. You just can't make up that kind of time!
I had to loosen the tape so we walked some more. We walked until I felt semi-confident that I'd be able to run a little bit. So we did. But then we stopped again. And then we started again. Then stopped. The pain in my leg was getting worse. I knew I couldn't do it and I was definitely feeling sorry for myself. I complained. And my sister listened. And this went on from mile 7 to mile 12. And then finally, we went for it and ran. And we ran until the end. My leg was really hurting but I didn't care. I had to run the last mile. I wanted to run across the finish line. My sister stayed with me the whole time. She pointed up and told me our family was watching us from the second level of the staduim. They were jumping up and down and screaming. I waved. We crossed the finish line together. She held me up the whole way even though I was feeling so down (and probably bringing her down too...not probably - definitely!)
We finished the race together. We teared up together. And then we went into the medical tent together and she watched me get giant ice packs taped to my right leg.
I don't regret starting the race. Not for a second. I do regret dragging my sister into my poor performance, but at the same time, there was no way I would have been able to finish without her. She was my rock throughout and I wish I could let her know how much it meant to me. After all, she's the one who inspired me to run in the first place. My cousin did really awesome and I'm so proud of her. Next time sis and I are going to be by her side!!
I'm going to go back to physio and try to get stronger for next time. Yes, there HAS to be a next time because I won't let this race be the only half marathon I've ever finished. My body beat me this time but my mind was ready to do it. So I'll just have to work harder next time. More cross-training and less bronchitis at the beginning of training.
In October 2007, I told everybody that would listen that I was going to run a half marathon. I hadn't even signed up yet. I just wanted to get it out there so then I'd have to do it. I don't like going back on my word.
I'm going to run another half marathon when my leg gets better. I've said it... So now I'll have to do it."
Monday, May 5
Flying Pig race report: just the numbers
Saturday, May 3
Kentucky Carb Derby
Race day tomorrow. You wouldn't know it by what I've been eating today. Got up this morning, and the free breakfast at the hotel included things like waffles, pop tarts, and cinnamon buns. Then made our way over to Cincinnati, picked up Yumke and R. and went for a drive along part of the race route, then to the expo to pick up race packets, and then for a light lunch. Some of us indulged in a flight of sampler brew pub beers. Before a race?! Well, there's carbs, aren't there? And they were such little glasses split amongst four girls. Barely five sips to a glass.
Then my family convened at my sister's inlaw's family farm.We were invited for the big pasta feed, but also to take part in tradition: The Kentucky Derby. A whole lot of pregame show for a 2-minute horse race, but what fun. I also did not refuse the mint julep... when in Rome.... We just ate an incredible pasta dinner -- fusilli and penne with choice of veg sauce and/or meat sauce, dollops of amazing homemade pesto, and roasted garden asparagus. And a brownie and coffee to cap it.
Race... race... race.... my sister is adamant that my cousin and I run the race and not worry about her. I haven't decided yet. She says she doesn't want me to "waste" my training on not running, but I also don't want to not see her through. Game time decision tomorrow. Off to bed soon. (Man, the sun is still up. This is just wrong). Weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow. I was worried because it's rained more than I liked it to earlier this weekend.
Then my family convened at my sister's inlaw's family farm.We were invited for the big pasta feed, but also to take part in tradition: The Kentucky Derby. A whole lot of pregame show for a 2-minute horse race, but what fun. I also did not refuse the mint julep... when in Rome.... We just ate an incredible pasta dinner -- fusilli and penne with choice of veg sauce and/or meat sauce, dollops of amazing homemade pesto, and roasted garden asparagus. And a brownie and coffee to cap it.
Race... race... race.... my sister is adamant that my cousin and I run the race and not worry about her. I haven't decided yet. She says she doesn't want me to "waste" my training on not running, but I also don't want to not see her through. Game time decision tomorrow. Off to bed soon. (Man, the sun is still up. This is just wrong). Weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow. I was worried because it's rained more than I liked it to earlier this weekend.
Border vignette
Yesterday at the border on the drive down
Border Guard: Citizenship?
Me: Canadian
Border Guard: Purpose of trip?
Me: Running a half marathon in Cincinnati
Border Guard: Don't they have half marathons in Canada?
Me: Yes... but............. also visiting family.
Border Guard: Okay, go on through.
Border Guard: Citizenship?
Me: Canadian
Border Guard: Purpose of trip?
Me: Running a half marathon in Cincinnati
Border Guard: Don't they have half marathons in Canada?
Me: Yes... but............. also visiting family.
Border Guard: Okay, go on through.
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