Carmel Half Marathon Training {Week 4}

I am going to let you in on a secret – one that might surprise you.

I don't want to PR the half marathon.

It sounds weird, right? Many times we go into a training cycle with the hope of getting stronger, faster and nailing a certain time. I want to do those things, of course. I want to get stronger. I want to get faster. And, when I toe the line in Carmel on April 16, I want a certain time. I want to run 1:59.

My PR, though, is 1:54:12. I ran that time 5.5 years ago and came within 1:30 of it in September 2014, when I was 12 weeks pregnant with Si. It was hard work to get that fast (relatively) – I ran 30+ miles a week, my log full of long tempos and intervals. I felt pushed to the limit and like I was breaking barriers. I set PRs in the 5K and 10K that helped me believe a half marathon best was possible. It was a type of training that I was ready for, and it was the only way I could tackle it.

Now, life with two kids, I'm not ready for that and as such, I haven't expected super great things with my running. I've been plugging away albeit picking up a challenge here and there along the way. So color me surprised when I crossed the mats at a local, low-key 5K on Saturday in a time of 25:17 – two seconds off my PR.

Later that night, Mark told me that I was definitely going to PR in Carmel. I wanted to shrug him off but part of me wondered if it would be wrong to call him a nut job and ignore him.

The race was part of a long run sandwich – log miles before the start, run the race and then keep going until you hit your mileage goal. The plan called for 12 miles with the mid-4 at race pace (9:00-9:09), making the long run sandwich an ideal option.

The first 5 miles went great. I ran with the girls for four, hitting about 10 minutes/mile for the first three and then picking it up to 8:50 for miles 4 and 5. I felt good and loose by the time I hit the start and told myself that I just had to run two more fast miles and then I could jog it into the finish. My running partner, Karen, was also participating and thought she'd like to be around 8:30 pace for the race. I figured that I'd keep her in my sights and chug away.

Which is what I did. Except, she ran more like 8:05 and I averaged 8:09 (officially).

I'm not going to give you a blow-by-blow of the race – don't even think I could if I wanted to – but a few notes. It was hard, and I definitely was working. However, I know that there were 3 seconds that could have easily been shaved. The park is known for its hills, and I nearly called "trail hill" on the second go-around. It was windy, and I definitely tried to draft off some of the high school guys who weren't keen on letting me pass them any way.

The course, two loops at a local park, and I know I finished the first lap in less than 12:30. According to my Soleus, my splits were actually pretty consistent between 7:55 and 8:05. But as with most GPS devices, it had me finishing the 5K distance in 24:4X and finishing the race around 3.2 miles. To break 25 in the 5K is a definite goal for the year, and it was rad to think I'm close.

I'm not getting ahead of myself, mind you. I'm going to continue training for Carmel as I have. Goal pace will be 9:00 to 9:09 and training paces will be based on that. But, I'm not going to hold myself back either.

The week, in running:

Tuesday: 5.2 miles, tempo
Thursday: 5.1 miles, hilly
Friday: 5 miles
Saturday: 12 miles total

On the trail with Scott Jurek {Fort Wayne Track Club banquet recap}

Standing on the stage, Scott Jurek was hardly recognizable. The ultramarathoner, who set the Appalachian Trail record last summer, had traded his Brooks shorts and shoes for a button-down shirt, tie and sport coat. The thin, scruffy face that was photographed in Maine was clean shaven and a bit fuller.

But the curly hair and affable smile gave him away.

Jurek was the keynote speaker at the Fort Wayne Track Club banquet on Sunday night, sharing stories from his life and time on the AT, as well as a guide for running success.

It's the fifth year that I've attended the banquet, and I am continually blown away by the caliber of the speakers the club brings in. {2012: Shalane Flanagan; 2013: Dave Wottle; 2014: Bart Yasso; 2015: Lauren Fleshman} Moreover, the club's timing is seemingly impeccable. We heard from Shalane just after she qualified for the Olympic marathon team and this year, we heard from Jurek just after he set the trail record. When the club was booking the speakers, it had no way of anticipating the successes the runners would have before the banquet.

The address began with a featurette about Jurek's time on the AT. If you read any of the criticism about his attempt, you might have heard about a camera crew following him. The crew was part of a larger documentary project, of which he will be a small part. They were with him for about three weeks of his 46 days. Read: It was not "his" crew/entourage.

Anyway, this video ... OMG. I have said it before and I'll say it again: Consuming accounts and information about time on the AT and Pacific Coast Trail goad me. They make me want to abandon my life and take in the trails. To explore. To discover. To live.

And the video was no different. However, I found myself surprised – almost embarrassingly so – by the hardship of life on the trail. There was a shot where Jurek took off during a torrential rain, the wind blowing with such force that the trees seemed to bend. His feet were soaked but calloused and blistered. He was thin and frail looking, his stride less of a run and more of a hobble.

There was such beauty, though. A vibrant green canopy of trees, single-track dirt trails, refreshing creek waters. There was victory and pleasure in the challenge. When I asked him later in the Q&A if he felt like he got to enjoy the breathtaking beauty because of his pace (about 50 miles a day), he said the joy came in pushing himself and the experience.

And push himself he does.

The greater part of Jurek's address was spent talking about he is able to do it – and how we can do it. Sure, we're not all going to win Western States or run Badwater but we can choose goals that are a bit scary. We can work hard. We can be present, focusing on the things that we are doing. We can create a world around us that is bigger than just running.

We can stop saying never.

Because, as Jurek said, "There's a lot of 'nevers' that dot my career."

He not only did the things he said he would never do but he excelled, and we have that in us, too.

Other highlights:

• The track club speaker is brought in for a whole weekend of events, from honoring the top high school runners to meet and greets at the local running stores. In past years, the speaker has run with members of the board and other influentials in the running community. This year, though, the run was opened up to the community.

About 75 folks signed up, and Scott ran with every single person. No joke. He started at the front and worked his way back along the 3.4-mile cross country course. Even when he was finished, he ran in with some of the people who had not yet finished.

He was so kind about it, chatting with everyone. And when I tried to be sly about taking a selfie, he caught me and then told me to take it again so he could smile.

• There was a new venue for the banquet, and the served dinner was replaced with a buffet. I may or may not have given an eye roll to that but was pleasantly surprised. There was a great house salad with dried cherries and nuts, green beans, roasted potatoes and barbecue chicken. The organizers even arranged to have lentil burgers made using Scott Jurek's recipe. And, let me tell you – amazing. I'll be making them again soon.

• Hanging out with my friends. I signed up for the banquet on my own, not thinking to ask anyone whether they were going. I didn't know what table I would be at or with whom I'd sit. Within minutes of walking in, I had seen old friends and familiar faces and could have sat a number of places. I don't say that to be like, "OMG, I'm so popular" but to show that the running group here is so welcoming.

If I take anything away from the banquet, it is that Fort Wayne is truly lucky to have such a community, and I'm blessed to be a part of it.

Short and Sweet: New Haven 10K Race Report

I ran a race on Saturday.

It was a 10K.

In New Haven, Indiana.

There were 272 participants. Some of them were my friends.

Some of those friends had run 9 miles before the race (because they are marathon training) and were going to take it slow.

I lined up with them.

My goal was to start out with a 10-minute mile and slowly drop down from there, logging negative splits. If it was a good day, I would run sub-60.

My first mile was 9:42.

So much for the first idea.

But running a 9:42 was fun. And if you are having fun while running a race, you should toss up some jazz hands.

So I did that.

And I kept cruising. Gunning for my negative splits. 9:37. 9:20.

Oops. I wasn't supposed to run a 9:20 this race, especially not for mile 3. The race is going to get tough from here on out, I thought to myself.

I was right. It did.

I walked through a water stop and it was hard to resume running. But I saw people, like my friends who had ran 9 miles before, and I thought I'd catch up to, well, catch up.

So I did. It was nice. And then I wasn't so nice anymore, passing them to try to pick it up. Because I didn't want to completely punk out just because my negative split race was out.

9:48, 9:38

Somewhere around mile 5, I realized that if I could hold my shit together that I might be able to go sub-60. It would be close but possible.

Time to pick it up.

I promise I was picking it up. I also promise I have two legs. I cannot confirm or deny whether my thighs eat shorts.

But at least my sock(s) look good.

Also, I did manage to eke out a good mile – 9:28 for 6 and an 8:52 average for the homestretch.

Oh, hey! Two legs!

I could let you do the math – time to brush up for back to school – to see whether I got my sub-hour 10K.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Yep, I think math is overrated, too. I finished in 59:40, which was good enough for me ... but not for awards or placing. Them peoples be fast. Seriously, I was 197 out of 272.

But I finished in less than an hour and got to go home and take a bath in an empty house. #winning

The First Race Back: Girls on the Run 5K Recap

"We missed you yesterday!!! Are you doing Girls on the Run?"

Joe couldn't possibly have been texting me. Me, the girl who was 7 weeks post-partum and barely running 3 miles. Of course, I was the girl who missed the Memorial Day run because of a fussy baby (and mama) meltdown. The run just happened to be "yesterday."

D'oh.

I told him no. I hadn't planned on returning tot he starting line so soon after Silas but, more pressing, I had both boys on Saturday as Mark was chaperoning a class trip to Cedar Point. I have a BOB Ironman but it's a single, and I plan on keeping it that way.

But that Joe. He told me his daughter, who just finished her freshman year, could entertain Miles, freeing me up to push Silas.

So it was. I was going to run the weekend 5K.

Pre-race: I don't normally include these details because they are usually rather boring and banal but I was rather proud of my ability to physically get to the race. I had to leave by 7:45 a.m. to get to the start, ensuring enough time to hook up with Joe and top off Si if necessary. On Friday night, I laid out two sets of clothes for everyone (we were going to a friend's after) and packed a lunch box of snacks for Miles. I pumped up the tires on the BOB and put it in my hatchback. On Saturday, Silas woke up just after 6 a.m., and he actually had a good feeding. Happy, I put him in the swing and got breakfast for Miles and me. Silas still chill in the swing, I got everyone dressed and bags in the car. The clock read 7:10. Damn. We were rocking. I picked up Si and tried to nurse him a bit more before heading out the door at 7:30. Fifteen minutes ahead of schedule! How does that even happen with two kids and one adult?!?

#humblebrag over

The race: I was in a sea of pink and green, tiny legs and full hearts. Ponytails full of glitter sparkled in the morning sun and strips of tulle bounced as the excitement built. The race, after all, was really for the girls who spent the spring semester of school preparing for this day.

As for me, I had spent zero time preparing. I had only been running for two weeks and though I'd ran the distance, the outings were not without convenient breaks for traffic and water. My only official goal was to go out and have fun, garnering a time to use as a baseline to see how I improve over the summer. On a dream day, if someone had asked, I thought it would be rad to squeak under 30.

But it wasn't a dream day. And that's OK.

It was hot and humid, with the temperature nearing 70 at 8:30 a.m. The cloudless sky was a relief with rain dominating the forecast but it freed the sun, allowing it to be unrelenting.

I had seeded myself mid-pack, not wanting to get caught up with my friends who had more ambitious goals. The announcer counted down and with a "1 and Go" we were off, a wave of cheers coming from the crowd. The pack began slow and though it would have nice to bolt from the line, I appreciated the more comfortable pace, especially since I was pushing the stroller (with a sleeping Silas! Hooray!), which offers about 50 pounds of resistance.

I managed to find some space by the first mile and pick up the pace but I was by no means flying. The heat was taking its toll –  the sweat had began to drip within the first half mile and pour by the first. When the water stop came at the halfway point, I was happy to stop and walk through. I grabbed a cup and then a second.

After the water stop, we headed into a neighborhood and twisted and turned through the maze of streets. I tried my best to run tangents but maneuvering the BOB, which has a fixed front wheel, proved difficult. But it was fine. Why whine about that when I was running a race and Silas was still sleeping?

Note: Later, Joe asked how I managed to get Si to sleep through 3.1 miles. I have no idea. Magic milk or dark magic? All I can say is someone was looking out for me, especially when I factored in his poor sleeping that week.

One of the fun parts about this race was listening to the run buddies and girls. There was so much encouragement and positive talk that I couldn't help but smile and try my best. One of the girls said that when she gets tired, she just tells herself one foot at a time. You just put one in front of the other.

Amen, sister.

So as I grew more tired at the mile 2 marker (a purple "2" helium balloon), I just made it my mission to put one foot in front of the other. Relentless forward motion, y'all.

As I rounded toward the finish, I tried to pick it up. After all, I used to have a kick. A good one.

Oh, how times have changed ... temporarily.

I was buoyed to see the clock read 31 minutes as I headed toward the balloon arch. I had ran without a watch as my Garmin has been a POS, not finding satellites, and had no idea what my pace had been. I just knew it felt slow.

As I crossed the timing mats, I felt tired. Done. But there were cheers and words of encouragement as I crossed the timing mats. Miles was there with his new friend, as was Joe who finished fifth overall. A Girls on the Run coach, whom I had passed and then passed me, told me I was her mother runner hero.

And I couldn't help but feel 100 percent ecstatic.

Amid sleepless nights and marathon nursing sessions, I had 31 minutes where I rejoined my community and took back myself.

Best Case Scenario? Forget it {New Haven 10K Race Recap}

I needed an accurate 10K time - captain's orders.

And since I always follow directions, I put the New Haven 10K on my calendar. I was hopeful for a strong showing, averaging an 8:20 pace - the 10K pace I've been using in my Fort4Fitness training.

But when I showed up to the starting line, I wasn't so sure I could run that pace. My legs were heavy, coming off a heavy training week and having run 10 miles the day before. My body was tired, as there was commotion outside our house the night before that had prompted Mark to call the police. My planned warm-up of 2 miles was more like a half-mile, and it did nothing to loosen me up. To boot, the normally enthusiastic runners from the group were talking about taking it slow and just getting it done.

But I needed to try. I lined up a bit behind the people with whom I know I cannot hang, and my goal for the first mile was to not run like an asshole and stay behind them.

The gun went off and, as I crossed the timing mat, I pressed start on my Garmin. I fell into a pace that seemed as strong as I was going to get that morning. I tried not to worry about my watch, rather staying behind the people in the group, but every time I glanced down, I saw a current pace in the 9's. A 9-minute average for a 10K was not what I wanted that day but I decided if that's what I had in me, that's what I had.

So I ran.

As I did so, approaching the first mile marker, I noticed something disconcerting. My watch was not reading one mile. Not really close, either. I was in the 0.75 to 0.85 mile range. Either the course was wrong or le Garmin was being finnicky, both things I could not control. I hit lap on le Garmin and decided to not pay it much mind.

It was nearly a blessing that my watch wasn't working as I could feel the fatigue in my legs with each step. I am not sure there was ever a time that I was all, like, "Yay! I'm running a race! I'm doing awesome!" Rather, it was all, "Let's get it done. Let's do it strong. Don't be an asshole."

I ran the entire race not looking at my pace, simply hitting lap at the mile markers. I would look down at my overall time as I passed each sign, trying to do mental math to see if I was on target, but remained calm if the numbers seemed to require too many brain cells.

As I rounded a residential corner and passed the six-mile marker, I knew that despite the things I had against me - heavy legs, tired body, wonky watch - that I had unknowingly hit my goal. If I could run the last 0.2 in 1:45, I would have an 8:20 10K average ... and beat Mark's prediction of 51:44.

I dug deep and tried to pick up the cadence. As I approached the finish, the run clubbers were lining the chute. It seems the perk of being one of the slower members is that everyone is there to cheer you on, giving you the edge to dig and kick.

And kick I did. I finished in 51:29 - a PR by 1 minute and 11 seconds!

Though I am reluctant to trust any le Garmin stats from that day (it read the 10K as 5.84, the only watch among my friends' to read short) ... Shit. I was going to type that my best pace at the end was in the 6's but Garmin Connect said my best pace of the day was 1:33. So I'm an ultra elite on steroids.

Le sigh.

But the moral of the story, or the thought I wanted to share, is that we often run races but qualify our times by saying that we could have done better if "x" hadn't happened of if we had done "x." Had we been able to run under the best case scenario, we would have been so much faster.

Let me tell you, the best case scenario doesn't exist. If you stop waiting for the best day and race for now, you are in for a world of fun and surprise.

Runners on Parade 5K {A race recap}

Thursday night, I had a dream.

I was at the start of the Runners on Parade 5K, anxiously awaiting the race to begin. An employee from the local running store came to get me and ushered me to the start. When the gun off, I went. I started to run. Grass beneath my feet and nylon tape marking the course, I stumbled around nervous and confused. Where was everyone? How could I run hard without the race environment to push me? I tried to persevere but, at some point, resorted to an almost gorilla like run to help me keep speed. It did not work.

When I woke up almost frantic Friday morning, I knew that ROP was not just another local 5K. Not for me, anyway. This race was going to be my first real chance in four years to try to break my PR, which I set at the same race in 2010. The other 5Ks I've ran have either been in cold, icy conditions (HERE and HERE) or hours after a long run or pacing a friend.

This race, it was my time.

I showed up Saturday morning with grand dreams. I knew that I wanted to PR. I knew that it would be nice to come in under 25 minutes. I thought it would be really awesome to see how close I could get to 23:XX. So I tried to do everything right. I ran a very slow warmup of 1.35 miles, did some stretching and dynamic drills.

I found some of the running group, and we began to meander a bit closer to the starting line. This year, there was a bit of corralling with a Saucony tape marking off a section for the fasties - women who anticipated going under 24 minutes and men under the 21-minute mark. I lined up behind the line, as I definitely knew a 23:xx would take a miracle. But, with the tap of the butt and a tug on the arm, I found myself being encouraged to go with the group.

With two minutes to go, I put in my ear buds - something I never do - and tried to get in the zone, shaking out the zoomies.

The gun went off and I bolted. My 5K MO is to go as hard as you can for as long as you can. It's not the smartest, I acknowledge, but I usually I take off and settle in. On Saturday, I took off and kept going. I wasn't sure how fast I was going - a first I had the display on my watch reading just a clock and when I switched it to see current pace, the downtown buildings had me doing sub-5. Because, you know, I'm Kenyan.

But I was going fast - very fast for me - and I was surprised that I was able to see the fasties with whom I had started. I figured they would be long gone by the time we made the first turn but they weren't. Actually, I had them in my sights for more than a mile.

Why? The first clicked off in 7:14. It's the fastest mile I can remember logging and definitely the speediest split I've seen in a long, long time. I knew that I was going to be in for a surprise - I just didn't know whether it would be good or bad.

I tried to hold on through the second mile but by 1.5, I had hit the puke threshold and was more than glad to see the water stop. I quickly walked through and soldiered on but I was fading. I tried to dig and push, embrace the suck and move. Alas, my body had different ideas. I felt like I was crawling as I ran the streets lined with people waiting for the festival parade that started at 10 a.m.

The course, which is flat, features a lot of turns though most in the front half. When the last one came, I was excited and frustrated. The straightaway seemed so long and my body was so tired. I just tried to keep moving forward because after such a stellar start, did not want to lose this race. Not another one.

As I came toward the line, the clock read 25 minutes, and the seconds were in the teens. I knew I had my PR. But, I wanted to beat 25:25 - a time that Mark predicted. Coming in under that would win me a running product of choice in Boulder when we go later this month.

It read exactly 25:25 when I crossed. My watch, which I had started at the gun and no crossing the mat, had 25:24.

Official : 25:15. It was good enough for a 21-second PR and beating Mark by 10 seconds. I did it. I finally did it.

And, the best part, I know I have a faster 5K in me if I don't run like an asshole. I'm not trained to run low 7 splits for a 5K, and it's why the race was so hard. I think with a bit of control, I can come under 25 minutes. It might bum some people out to know that but I got to run fast and hard. I proved to myself that there is still something in me and somewhere to work toward.

Grass roots effort: Hare & Hounds XC recap

I did not run cross country in high school. Heck, I didn't even run in high school. At all.

Evidence: The gym class mile.

I was a freshman, deconditioned and unenthusiastic. I was more so, in terms of the latter, when I knew my finishing time directly correlated with my grade. The whistle blew, and I gave a solid effort for a tenth of a mile before resigning myself to walking. I spent most of that 15 minutes (or more) talking with a sophomore, who had a shared distaste for physical activity. But as we came closer to the finish, she picked up the pace. I did not. Dead last, I was.

And so it was with great unfamiliarity and uncertainty that I found myself at the start of the Hare & Hounds XC 5K on Saturday.

The event, sponsored by Three Rivers Running Company, is in its fourth year and is a points race for the track club. There's an individual option or, in line with its cross-country title, there's a team option with several divisions. I gathered a group of mother runners from the local Moms RUN This Town group, and we tackled the group as "Mom's The Word."

Photos courtesy Fort Wayne Track Club and Three Rivers Running Co.

During the race, I might have used some choice vocabulary rather than "Mom." To sum it up: Running on grass is hard. H-A-R-D hard.

It was a gun start, and the first mile took off at an unbelievable and unsustainable pace. For the first quarter-mile, my watch was reading sub-7:30. I knew I needed to get myself in check and took the opportunity to do so as we rounded the first bend and encountered our first incline (I'm not sure they count as hills outside of Indiana).

I fell in line with my friend Tina and ran most of the race with her. I'm not sure it was intentional but we seemed to be evenly matched, given the day and the course. I would pass her, she would pass me but in the end, we were together.

We clocked nearly even splits in the 8:45 range though I was aided in the second mile to hit some dirt track. I never thought I loved trails as much as I did until I hit that section. The return to grass, though, was like a slap in the face - especially when the course ran parallel to the finish before looping into the woods and back onto the grass. I spent that section willing myself not to walk. Not even through the water stop around mile 2.5.

I finished in 27:14, an average pace of 8:4Xish. I am not sure if there's an algorithm to tell me how much the terrain affected my pace but I know effort > time.

But, of course, it wasn't about time ... yay, running, rah, rah, three claps here. The event was about getting in a points race and, more importantly, finding a reason to run with some wonderful ladies. Most of us had not met (in person) until Saturday, and it was a great chance for us to start what will (hopefully) be a summer filled with fun, running and camaraderie.

Summertime Madness

This morning was crisp. Cool. Breezy. It was a better day to run than bike but after logging miles Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, my legs craved a break.

Thanks to some newly available free time, Mark was kind enough to take my bike off the trainer and change the rear wheel. He pumped up three sets of tires and hooked up the Burley Bee trailer. I filled bottles with Nuun and cups with snacks. We dusted off helmets and adjusted straps.

At 7:45 a.m., nearly an hour later than we'd set off on foot, we put shoe to pedal and headed off.

We rode 2.5 miles to a tucked away play area where Miles could run and swing and slide to his heart's delight. I hovered a bit, still unable to believe that my little baby is not really a baby and is more than capable to scale tall ladders and high steps. There were walkers, runners and cyclists out on the trail, waving as they passed by. I marveled that it could be quiet and busy at the same time.

Quiet and busy, I thought. Such is summer life in our house.

With Mark, a teacher, home for summer, the mornings become relaxed. An extra pair of hands means that I can prep meals or get ready on my own. My list of to-do's gets a bit shorter as Mark volunteers to help a bit more, giving us time to can run or cycle, head out on errands. On the best days, we simply sit in the backyard and sip coffee as Miles plays.

The leisure time, though it seems plentiful now, is limited. In two weeks, exactly, we will kick off one of our busiest summers ever.

• June: Hare & Hounds XC 5K (Saturday); ZOOMA Napa Valley racecation (27-30).
• July: Daycare vacation (7-11); Miles' 3rd birthday + party (7); Runners on Parade 5K (12); road trip to Colorado.
• August: Cincinnati trip/wedding party (3); out-of-town visitors; to-be-scheduled trip to Chicago; return to school.  

If anyone is going to be at ZOOMA Napa or is local to Boulder/Denver ... and wants to hear me tell bad jokes, let me know. I'm hoping to find some run buddies to keep me moving at altitude.

Tell me: What do you have planned for summer?

This and that: Three Things Thursday

1. I was sure my friend's account had been hacked when I got her first email. It had a matter of fact message and referenced claims from Oprah, Dr. Oz and ... me. Beyond my undying love for #carbsforlife, I haven't claimed much lately.

The second email, though, changed things. The alert was not spam.

But the ad was.

It seems my photo - or photo I should say - from the Woman's Day piece is being used in an ad/testimonial for pure garcinia cambogia - the next big "miracle" for weight loss.

At first I thought it was harmless but the more I thought about it, the more I got agitated. I would hate for someone I know to see my image, even with the wrong name and city, and think I not only used something like this but supported it. I reached out to Woman's Day via Twitter and got a fairly prompt response. The magazine is looking into it as using the photo is basically theft, and I'm hoping it disappears into a cyborg.

2. The Fort Wayne Track Club has been really busting a move lately, and they've been having volunteers snap photos at local races. The photos are posted on the group's Facebook page, making it easy to tag yourself or share images with friends.

They seem to make a real effort to get photos of everyone at the start and finish. I find myself anxiously awaiting them, even if I'm not in them. It makes me proud to see my friends and fellow runners working so hard.

3. I don't want to jinx it but I think I might actually get to put away the tights this weekend. I'm meeting Joe tomorrow morning, with a projected forecast of 48 (plus rain). The weekend long run starts at noon, and the high Sunday is 58. There's a few cold mornings sprinkled through next week but nothing capris + Pro Compression socks can't solve.

What are your three things for the day?

Worst Case Scenarios: A race recap

The conversation between my friend and me before the start of the Nutri-Run 20K on Saturday went a little like this:

"I really wish it were colder for this run - like negative 14 degrees - but with rain."

"Well, I really wish there were 45 mph winds."

"I really think there should be 4 inches of snow on the ground and a negative 100 windchill."

"I really hope I get lost on the course so I run 20 miles instead of 20K."

"I really hope they delay the race for an hour at the 10K mark so I can be outside longer."

"I really hope I slip on the course and fall into the waters of an icy culver, where no one will see me."

The conditions for this year's Nutri-Run were far from ideal, with 33 degrees, a wintry mix, 20+ mph winds and slush roads. Not that I'd expect any less this year. Also, a race at the end of March can be a bit precarious, weather-wise, in the Midwest but when I ran it two years ago, I was in shorts and a tank.

BABY MILES!

Just to give you a picture.

So the weather was just one of the things working against me. I also had a bad attitude about the weather, the first 3 miles are fairly hilly and had taught Bodypump at 9 a.m. with the race start at 11 a.m. I didn't think the latter would be an issue but my legs felt heavy from the start.

And the bad thought demon pretty much dominated the race.
 
Miles 1-2.5: Shit. I already can't keep up with my friends. Stupid hills. Stupid downhills. Please God, don't let me slide down this hill and fall.

Miles 2.5-7: Now or never. Must make the 20K turn. Stay with this friend. Stay with this friend. Mmm, Gu. It's a good reason to walk. Hold the pace. Hold the pace. Who the heck cares? Awesome. I just passed the 10-year-old who trained hard for this race.

Miles 7-12: Eff you wind. I HATE YOU. YOU BLOW. This sucks. Sucks, sucks, sucks. Sleet is pelting me in the face. Or is it you snow? Can't look forward. Can't look forward. There's that ditch that I was going to fall into. Good thing the wind is pushing me the other way. Where's my second Gu? Shit. It fell out. Sweet. I just passed the 10-year-old boy's sister. She's 7. Nothing like passing a SEVEN-YEAR-OLD to make you feel good about yourself.

Mile 12 - Finish: Is it over? Now? Is it over now? Oh, look. My friends are finished and walking back to their cars with bread. I can't walk now. Run. Where's the kick? Omph. Not there. Done.

Stats: Positive splits for the win. Sixth out of seven in my age group. My training partner beat me by 11 minutes. The icing on the cake was that I finished this race almost 30 seconds faster two years ago.

Upside: A shitty race and long run in the books before the Athens half on April 13. I figure it got the zoomies out.

BE GONE ZOOMIES!

Firecracker goes boom, boom, boom

I wanted to fly.

I wanted my feet to push off the ground and never touch down.

I wanted to feel the wind in my hair.

But my legs were sore, even after sleeping in compression socks and a good stretch.

My body was tired, firework "displays" taking place long into the night kept me up far past my bed time. Even the Kona Cola nuun didn't seem to wake me up.

Alone, I felt antsy and anxious. Unenthusiastic and unsure.

I showed up at the Firecracker 4-mile with big dreams, though. I wanted to lay it out on the line. I wanted a real race to test my fitness and give myself a boost of confidence going into marathon training. I wanted to dominate. 

In a Team Sparkle skirt, Schwings and a nuun tattoo.

But I think the day had other plans.

I lined up toward the front as this race was gun start with chip finish and when the director said go, I went. Too fast I knew. I had hoped that I'd surge and settle in even though I know this strategy has failed me in the past, especially if I'm racing alone.

The course began at a park pavilion but we were quickly on trails and taking on challenging (at least to me) hills. The grass was wet. Soft. A thin track went down the middle of the course, as if it were forged by fierce mountain bikers. My feet were dancing not so deftly around the track and puddles, my breathing labored.

As I hit the mile 1 marker, I looked up to see the faster runners rounding the corner after making it to the top of a steep hill, one so steep that you could barely run it. Or I could barely run it.

And it was at this point that I realized that it wasn't my race. I had blown my wad. I had ran stupid. Rather than tell myself that I do, in fact, run my body and give myself the choice to finish with some guts, I decided to just get through it. Again. With each passing step, I saw myself get farther and farther behind. The people I had so eagerly and egotistically passed were now passing me. The people who weren't racing were coming from behind, looking strong and steady.

At times, I tried to power through but I wasn't in it and neither were my legs. They were shot by the time I tried to start utilizing the strategy I've so often heard about - picking people off. Picking off quickly became don't let the girl everyone's cheering for pass me.

I rounded the corner to the finish line and was shocked that it read 33:5x. Shocked because I was so far off my PR. Shocked because I was sure that my mental game would cost me a sub-9 pace. I gunned it for a bit and finished in 34:21 - 1 minute and 50 seconds slower than I did the Fort4Fitness race.

While I'm disappointed in myself, more my lack of mental game than physical effort, I am happy that I managed to place third in my age group - and that there were more than 3 in my AG, too.

Golden girl

They love me. They really love me!

Or they at least like me enough not to call me out for being in an age group that, we'll say, is busy - too busy to run in a lot of points races.

On Sunday, the Fort Wayne Track Club held it's annual banquet and my participation (and placement) in three races last year earned me first place in my age group for the points race series during the ceremonies.  There are more than a dozen races in the series and there were 18 members who managed to complete them all. Some of the age groups had winners with 1,400 points. (For reference, I had 230). But I got the plaque all the same.

And the cake.

In addition to the awards, there was also a half marathon clinic, delicious dinner - I opted for beef and, yes, I ate the rich chocolate piece of heaven - and a keynote speaker in 1972 Olympic Gold Medal winner Dave Wottle.

Last year, the track club worked its tail off to lure Shalane Flanagan to our dinner, and I have to admit that my heart sunk just a tiny bit that someone as fresh off competition wouldn't be speaking. How else would I become besties with Lauren Fleshman? (Seriously, call me Lauren.) My feelings changed, though, once I heard that Wottle was a BGSU alumni like me ... and when I saw his stunning 800 meter final that garnered him the Gold medal.

Watch it. It's seriously amazing.

Wottle interwove stories of that day into what turned out to be an engaging, inspiring speech (sshh: it was much better than Shalane's talk last year). He said there were three things that were key to his Olympic success.

Concentration. Confidence. Competitive spirit.

Concentration. Wottle said that during the 1 minute, 45 seconds he was running, he was focused on nothing else but the finish line. He didn't see the crowds. He didn't hear their roars. Not only that but in training, he concentrated on that goal of an Olympic medal. Often times as he ran through Bowling Green, he would visualize the race. And he wasn't winning. He was coming from behind and teaching himself how to maneuver in situations that might fluster other athletes.

Confidence. It was those visualizations helped give him the confidence that he needed to win. A runner who was 20 meters behind in the first 200 meters of an 800-meter event might have worried himself out of the race but Wottle said his training scenarios  showed him that he could come from behind and finish ahead.

Competitive spirit. Yeah, this pretty much doesn't need explanation. Mostly because I was too busy listening and a whole lot not busy taking notes on my iPhone. But let's just say he said you needed a competitor's spirit - not just to beat someone but to better yourself. Sound good?

Of all the things he said, what stuck with me most was what he said about his pre-race ritual. Yes, there was the golf cap and the silence but there was also a prayer. Though I'm not a particularly spiritual person, his words to God really spoke to me.

Allow me to try my best, do my best and accept whatever outcome.

Words to run by. Words to live by.

'Just' a 10K

Let's cut to the chase: It's Saturday night, and I'm watching "Pocahontas" on Netflix.

Wait. Wrong chase.

This afternoon, I ran a 10K and not only did I PR the heck out of that shtuff but I set my first post-baby PR.

Booyah! Official finish time: 52:40.2. PR's aren't pretty but they sure are beautiful.

The JP Jones Just Plain 10K is the final points race for the Fort Wayne Track Club, and it lives up to its name as just a plain 10K. The course is (nearly) three loops of my neighborhood park, with a single, unadvertised aid station and no awards. And for a hefty entry fee of $3 for track club members, you got hot soup, homemade cookies and a honey bear.

Mark and I have been planning to run this race for sometime as a way to keep us motivated during the holidays and as the weather cooled. Mark had initially wanted to run the heck out of the race but had stubbed and badly bruised his fourth toe earlier in the week. He so chivalrously decided to pace me to a PR. Except I wasn't so sure I could PR. I had looked it up, and the last (and fastest) 10K I did was 53:06 (8:36 pace) on Thanksgiving 2010 when I was seven weeks pregnant. I feel like I don't have the base I used to and I'm not doing speedwork consistently so I hoped to finish in under 55.

As the course was three loops, my goal was to go out at a respectable pace and bring it in each loop so that I could finish strong and happy. Yeah. About that. Let's just say those first two miles were the fastest, and the fifth was more than 30 seconds slower.

The course began on the east side of the golf course and at the bottom of a hill. Mean. Just mean.

Loop 1: We started out at a quick pace after cresting the hill and were moving along at what I thought was a comfortably hard tempo pace. The first mile flew by as we passed a number of people, including a spirited woman who wore jingle bells on her shoes. The second mile was even quicker but I knew that we/Mark/I was holding a pace that was no longer comfortably hard. It was just hard.

Loop 2: I knew this was going to be the hardest of the loops. The crowd had thinned out and though the sun was beginning to peak out, the wind was once again at our face. I heard footsteps behind us, and it turned out to be a fellow fitness instructor, who had also taught this morning. We chatted for a minute or so as she admitted to drafting off Mark, and she continued on strong. Once we turned toward the west side of the golf course and the sun shone in full glory, Mark and I both realized that we had dressed too warmly. In an impressive move, Mark managed to remove his middle layer (of 3) mid-stride.

Loop 3: Mark made a stop at the car, which was parked 10 or 20 feet from the course, to drop off his sweater and my phone. And then he decided to drop me. Not in a mean way, I promise. I had given him the option during the second loop to move on as my pace began to slow. The fifth mile, for which I was alone about 2/3, I decided to conserve and slow down. I wanted to be able to push at the end and not have my Subway lunch revisit me. It felt dreadful. Not just going slow but running. I was reaching the point that inevitably comes in any race or hard effort where you just want to say fig it and jog lightly when I was faced with a steep hill coming up from the river to the main trail. I powered up and, as I sighed with relief at the top, I heard someone behind me. I decided that it was time to push and hold off the guy for as long as I could. I checked my watch and with some poorly calculated math, I realized a PR was possible and it gave me even more energy to hold on.

My motivator eventually passed me in the last third of a mile, maybe, just as the finish line was in sight. I kept going and soon began to hear the chants of "Kim" from my gracious husband. The red, glaring numbers on the clock began with a 52. All I had to do was gun it and I would be a PR queen.

I nearly puked at the finish - goodness, I'm classy - and I had to walk a bit before I could think of water much less any of the delicious treats they had. And, yes, I had a cookie. Healthy Holiday Challenge be damned. I needed something and I couldn't stomach hot vegetable soup just yet.

By the way, my lovely husband finished with a 49-something - meaning he dropped a full minute per mile off his pace that last loop. And that's with running 3 miles a few times week. He's incredible. In the I want to kick you in the throat sort of way.

Almost.

Because he placed eighth in his age group and I earned second. Boo-friggin-yah.