Feeling blue(grass): A race recap

Fitness level. Fueling. Heat.

For whatever reason, the post-baby sub-2:00 half marathon has remained elusive. I've missed it by a matter of seconds to a good stretch of minutes, and the barrier has been one that I've been antsy to break. I was quietly anticipating that Saturday, on the Run the Bluegrass course, would be my chance.

Run the Bluegrass is a half-marathon and rookie race of 7 miles that starts and finishes in Keeneland Race Park in Lexington, Ky. It bills itself as one of the country's most beautiful half marathons but doesn't shy away from the fact that it is a challenging, hilly course.

The race was scheduled to start at 9 a.m. - perfect for the family and me - as it gave us ample time to wake up, eat breakfast, clean the hotel room and head to the race. Traffic was a bear but, as luck would have it, the race was delayed 15 minutes for low-lying fog along the course. I had just the right amount of time to visit the bathroom, say my farewells to Mark and Miles and line up in my corral.

I chatted with a few people in my corral as I listened to the beep-beep-beep of the surrounding Garmins, wondering just what I had gotten myself into. Not only had I not prepared for the hills but I was doing things for the race I had never done before: I wore the race shirt, tried a new flavor of Shot Bloks and I was going naked. As in the numbers queen had decided not to wear her MOTOACTV. I was not going to know my splits nor my time for the entire race.

I know, I know. I am so rogue.

The gun went off promptly at 9:15 and my corral was called to the start line a minute later with me crossing the start line about 9:17.

As we made our way out of Keeneland and up a small hill, I tried to stay conservative. My plan for this race was to stay stay steady on the inclines, pull in my core and not fight the declines and keep my feet under me on the straightaways.

Most importantly, though, my plan was to soak it all in. The first three miles were nearly a blur of white fences and rolling hills. The sun was rising over the green horse pastures, slightly muted by the remaining fog. Every once in a while, a house would rise from the grass or a horse would come toward the course, curiously tipping his head at the spectacle along the rural path.

I felt strong those first three miles. Invincible, even. I passed the 2:00 pacer just before mile 2 and I was shocked to see the 3-mile marker. If this was what the race was going to be like, I thought, it was going to be a good day.

But just as I was letting things brew in my head, the course took a challenging uphill turn.

Though there had been some hills in those early miles, it was a net downhill and the next mile or so was a significant climb with rollers in the mix. My legs though strong from cross training and BODYPUMP were not ready as my hill training suffered significantly the second half of the cycle. I remained stubborn, head down, and took short steps to get to the top.

My pace slowed significantly - or what I can only assume as significant as I was without a watch - and I was passed by the 2:00 pacer and he was out of sight by mile 5. It didn't really bother me, though, as I knew if it was to be that I would catch up. Or not.

While my unofficial time goal might have slipped through, I was determined to stay true to my original hopes for the race - run strong, enjoy the race and not puke at the finish. When the hills felt insurmountable, I buckled down and thought of how lucky I was to run one. When my quads burned on the downhills, I opened my eyes and took in all that was surrounding me. When I wanted to walk, I told myself that I wanted to be a fighter and if I was going to accomplish anything during this race, it was going to be not walking.

The course seemed to offer runners a much welcome reprieve around mile 8, which was relatively flat (thought if you look at the elevation chart you can see that it was never truly flat). I let my stride open up, I pushed my shoulders down and enjoyed the run. The farms dotting the peaks and valleys were gorgeous and the grass - green grass - glowed in the daylight.

But I knew there was still trouble up ahead. A runner mentioned that the fun would start again at mile 9 - and it did for a good two miles. There was a slow and steady climb toward the finish and though I felt strong fitness-wise, my legs were tired. I later told Mark that at the end of most races I feel general fatigue or like it was my cardio that was taxed. The Bluegrass experience was completely different, with the course annihilating my legs.

There was a straightaway of sorts between miles 11 and 12, and I forced myself to shock the legs with a few strides. The muscles burned as I pushed the effort but I felt like I locked down into a stronger pace the last couple miles.

We turned into the main part of Keeneland and a sign marked that we were in the last furlong. I really wished I watched racing at that point because I had no idea how far a furlong was. I was hoping it was a quarter-mile. My legs were praying it was a quarter-mile.

Spectators lined the stretch and the cheers and bells were a deafening contrast to the quiet of the previous 13 miles. Amid the calls of friends and families, I heard a fellow runner announce that we had just a tenth to go and it was time to kick it. I pride myself on my finishing kick and though it may be a faux pas, I dug in and pushed my body faster than it had moved since those early miles.

I crossed the finish line strong and smiling. I was happy to be finished but just as happy to have experienced something so spectacular in beauty.

With no watch to stop and a glitch in the chips, I didn't know my time until almost nine hours after finishing. It was 2:02:42. So close and yet so far. But at least I didn't throw up.

Marathon Monday: I did it

4:26:25 - More details to come. When I can, like, think.

Fast and furious: A race recap

The clock read 7:20. It was time to head to our corral.

We said goodbye to Miles, who would be "walking" the event (his first race!) with Nana and Poppa.

We wandered through the crowd, making a pit stop at the honey buckets for one last "shake out" of nerves.

And then we found ourselves just 10 feet from the starting line, in Corral A.

I've never been in Corral A, and I'm not quite sure I belonged there. I saw some of the race regulars - the girls who run faster than me, the ones who are most accomplished - and took a deep breath. If I was going to put my heart out on the course, this is where I needed to be.

The deep breaths continued as the mayor counted down from 10 to 3 and then the cannon went boom. It was time to move.

As Mark would tell it, I went out like a bat out of hell. I rounded the corner onto a stretch of road that I like to run when I go solo and was ready for the first hill. Not that I remember much of it. I had seen one of the regulars within a few feet after the first quarter mile and I thought, naively for a brief few minutes, that I could hold onto her. I paid attention to her, what she was doing and how she was adjusting her arm warmers. The same arm warmers from the HUFF that were sitting in my drawer at home. They were a reminder that I knew how to run in difficult conditions. I could dig deep.

The first mile marker came up quickly and for good reason. I hit it at 7:35. To the best of my knowledge, that is the fastest mile I have ever ran - besting a mile repeat clocked at 7:37 in 2010.

I was starting to realize at this point that I couldn't hold on like I wanted to and made an effort to find a sustainable pace. Or a pace that didn't make me want to cut Mark. My husband, bless his heart, was doing his best to keep me engaged and check in on me. I wanted him to shut up and stop pointing at people juggling plungers along the course. I also wanted to lie down in my in-laws front yard, which we passed. I did not. I kept running.

Mile 2: 7:54.

"We're half way there, babe," Mark said as we passed the mile 2 marker. Some people might have felt relief, I did not. I was acutely aware that it was going to hurt like hell to do that for 2 more miles. And so I didn't. I walked through a water stop and pulled back under the guise that I would kick it with one mile to go. Thankfully, this difficult stretch was made easier by going through my favorite part of the course, a neighborhood that goes all out for the race. The association draws chalk murals on the street, and residents line and cheer, blare music and offer support. It's awesome, and that quarter-mile makes the race. Every. Single. Year.

Mile 3: 8:29.

As we rounded toward the end, I knew that I wouldn't be satisfied giving in to the fatigue. I needed to fight. I needed to meet my goal of leaving it on the course. I pushed. I cursed. I spit on myself. I ran.

Mile 4: 7:56.

Coming into Parkview Field and finishing on the baseball field is one of the most amazing things you could experience. As I headed for home - literally - I knew I was close to my goal. I tried to lock down the hammer. I couldn't. But a final push came from another runner who repeated "You can be tired when your done."

Truth.

The last little bit (according to the MOTOACTV) was 38 seconds, which need to fit in there somewhere though I'm not sure where. We'll say mile 3.

I finished in 32:31, seventh in my age group, 106 overall and 31 seconds over my goal. While I was initially disappointed (when are we ever good enough?), I am proud.

I looked rather badass in my black camo shorts from Target, a last minute $6 score. I went fast. I shaved more than 6 minutes off last year's time. And, most importantly, I didn't give up.

Setting up Fort

If there was ever a race to be mine, it would be Fort-4-Fitness.

I ran my half-marathon PR there in 2010.

I puked my guts out at the finish last year, running the 4-mile event as my post-partum comeback.

Tomorrow, I will toe the line for a shot at redemption at the 4-miler.

I haven't talked much about the race because, well, it seems like small change when the Columbus Marathon is just 23 days away.

But that's not the only reason.

I signed up for the race under the naive notion that I would regain my speed (I use that term loosely) and maybe even get faster, which would set me up to {maybe} place. And in case I haven't mentioned it before, I'm not running at the paces I used to and the lofty goal I set is realistically out of reach.

Note: If you would like to whine some that I ran a 10K PR at 7 weeks pregnant at a pace I couldn't fathom now,  I can work on a post.

Regardless, Mark and I are planning to run quite aggressively, with my in-laws pushing Miles in the BOB for the same event. (His first race!!!) The goal, instead of a time one, is to leave it all out there on the course. The goal is to abandon fear and embrace the pain. The goal is to not stab Mark when he tells me I can, in fact, run faster.

And to not throw up with my medal on.

{And to finish in a fast enough time to teach BODYPUMP at 9 a.m.}

Looking forward

"After I get through the marathon, I’m looking forward to doing some shorter races and regain some speed I lost since pregnancy. (Sadly, I’m not one of those mothers who has a baby and magically runs 7-minute miles.) I’d love to PR the half-marathon."

I said that. I said that in my "Follow This Mother" interview. And, it's true. I want to run a shorter race and PR the crap out of it.

Now, if I can just pick a race.

With the Columbus Marathon just 47 days away, my attention and focus should be on the 26.2 miles ahead. Yet, I can't help but dream of what's to come. I've been adding race after race to the Pinterest board I've created for my running bucket list. There's Hood to Coast and the Louisville Derby Marathon, as well as the North Country Run trail race and a Napa to Sonoma half. Nike Women's is adding a D.C. location in the spring, and I am curious if Grandma's lives up to the buzz.

Most of these events are racecation worthy and more than likely once in a runtime opportunities that I will have to wait to experience. And that's why I found my conversation with Todd, the director of the Carmel Marathon at the Indianapolis Women's Half Marathon expo so interesting. It goes without saying that he was there to promote his event but he talked about the Carmel race with the same enthusiasm that he did about running. Period. And let me tell you he's got enthusiasm - gunning for Marathon Maniac status and running three of the big five marathons (Berlin, Chicago and Boston - New York and London are waiting).

The Carmel Marathon offers a marathon, half, 8K and a 1-mile event for kids. There's a post-race party in the Center Green, and I even heard talk of an after-party. The best part, though, isn't mentioned on the flier - it's within a two-hour drive of Fort Wayne, and we could go down the day before the race and come back after we relax and grab a bite.

Amen to that.

And that's when I realized that I don't have to pick some big race to PR at. I don't have to compete with other people in terms of the quantity and size of races they are running. I can pick the races that are right for me and not break the bank.

Mark has first dibs on the next training cycle. And he has earned it - I've completed two half marathons, a 50K relay and a handful of other races and he's only had one big outing, an Olympic-distance triathlon last summer.

Regardless, I'm still eyeing some local-ish options for next spring. Here are my best picks for affordable Midwest half-marathons.

Notre Dame Holy Half Marathon, South Bend
March
Organized by Notre Dame students, this is a low-key race with a low entry fee ($55). It winds through campus, and Kim at Girl Evolving ran it in 2012 with a stroller!

Cincinnati Heart Mini, Cincinnati, Ohio
March 17
The Flying Pig Marathon was my first half, and it holds a special place in my heart. It's a big race, though, with a big price tag. I think it was $80 when I wanted to register in 2012 (if you want to do the Pig in 2013 - decide now as the half is currently $65). The Heart Mini gives you some of the same scenic views and peace of mind that you are helping a good cause.

Carmel Marathon, Carmel, Ind.
Saturday, April 20
Entry fee: $50 (until Dec. 31)

Martian Invasion, Dearborn, Mich.
April
Entry fee: $49 (until March)
Boasts a fantastic finisher's medal, fun tech shirt and great crowd support. I ran this race in 2012, and I loved the scenic course that winds through beautiful neighborhoods and Hines Park.

Egg Shell Shuffle, Shaumburg, Ill.
April
Entry fee: $55 (2012)
If you are looking for a novelty medal, this race is it. The finisher's prize is - no shocker - a bright and colorful egg. Enjoy a race in the Chicago 'burbs where hotels are much cheaper and take the train into the city for brunch at Yolk.

What else would you add?

The race on my Sunday

I am a godless woman.

Source

A godless, godless woman who seemingly would run into the arms of Lucifer himself if she could just have one thing: a local race on a Sunday.

We have what I consider to be a thriving running community for the size city and part of the country I am in. You could race every weekend, multiple times, if you wanted to.

And Mark has been dying to do just one. He has increased his mileage this summer (training with me) and wants to test his speed at a 10K, preferably, or a 5K. When he shared this with me, I promised to be his Sherpa and baby wrangler. Miles and I would make signs, cheer and give sweaty kisses (Miles, not me).

Just one thing: It had to work around BODYPUMP.

BODYPUMP, though, is at 8:45 Saturday morning, thus ruling out most races. I have accepted that this new direction in my ... career? ... life? ... fitness? ... would affect my racing schedule but now it's affecting Mark's. And my fitness endeavors more than affect his life - they nearly dominate it the way they do mine. I owe him this 10K.

I am determined to find something for him that doesn't involve selling my soul or becoming a race director. (I'm saving the latter for a race with Team Sparkle skirts and girlfriends.)

The options:

Boring Runner's "Sweat Your Thorns Off" 5K. It is on a Saturday but you do it in your own time, and Mark could easily knock this out at 7 a.m. I've officially "registered" for this as it's free and will make me certifiably cool but it does lack the competitors within reach that drive Mark to run faster.


Put in some miles. Fort Wayne might be the city of churches but there might be some other places that aren't so holy. I found a couple of great races for September that would be a bit of a drive but are in places that we like to visit. I'm totally in love with this Tower Run 8K in Michigan City. It's an affordable race in a pretty area of Indiana, along the lake, and there's outlet shops and a casino to make it worth the trip. Just putting it out there.

Send Miles to Camp Grandma. Mark might have to sherpa himself but he could have his own race and I could do BODYPUMP, pick up Miles and treat my AG winner to breakfast.

Trade BODYPUMP classes. I'm filling in for the instructor next week, and I'm sure he'd be happy to take one for me, too.

RACECATION! While driving an hour or two for a race is one thing, a racecation is a whole other beast. It's more than likely not in the budget - especially as I'm drooling over the idea of running Portland next year - and we would have to do it before school starts. But it is an option. There's a good number of races in the Chicago area, and I would love to do something in Tennessee. (Hi, Michelle!)

Of course, there's always the "Who cares about you? I'm the runner in this family" option.

Hmm. So many choices, which one to choose ...