Running Moms Rock 5K

By the time I picked up my race packet for the Running Moms Rock 5K on Friday night, I had this race report planned out stating the basic fact that I kicked ass. Pre-race jitters had come and gone. I felt ready. Getting my race shirt and bib just excited me even more. Plus having a racing buddy, Casey, running her first race was exciting for me as well. It was destined to be a great race. After chip pickup and warm up in a very humid and sunny late afternoon, I felt fairly confident that Casey and I would finish strong with a PR as well.

The gun went off and we set our pace, easy does it as we found a spot in the crowds. I felt strong and steady at what felt about a 11:00 minute pace, until the hill that happened right after the one mile marker. Now here I could go into a laundry list, or even more like a shopping list for Sam's Club, how the race went wrong. Basically, an old foot injury that hadn't bothered me at all for a minimum of two months flared like an angry dragon overtaking my foot and ankle. I slowed and eventually had to walk. Casey was off. I let her take her own pace forward. After a mental struggle I cannot even describe and a run/walk throughout the rest of the race, I nearly gave up to not injure myself further. I even had the thoughts, "there goes my badass title in the making" and "if I can't do this, there's no way I can keep training for longer races." But I couldn't stop. I kept pushing.

As I rounded the last leg, the 0.14 of the 3.14 mile race, I saw Casey coming back for me. She told me we were going to finish together, limping and all. She yelled at me to push it, and I told her "it hurts". She said it's supposed to! We sprinted in, crossing that line together. I finished with a 41.13 time (13.07 minute pace), even after walking a good mile of it. I felt great, even though my entire right leg felt nothing but pain.

It took me a day of icing and rest to realize this: this race wasn't about me. True, this was my entrance back into the racing scene and my kickoff to training for the elusive 26.2, but other than learning things I need to improve on in my running, this race was not for me. This race was for Casey and for me to share the amazing experience of racing with her. She did fantastic, with a 36:00 finish time. She loved it and can't wait to race again. The best part: I've been a part of her running/racing journey the whole time. That alone makes it worthwhile.

The Tempo Run that Clicked

Even as a fairly avid runner, I never got into the whole "tempo" run or speed work or all these different types of runs. Until last night, that is. I have the Running Moms Rock 5K this Saturday, and last night was my last hard run before the race. Some say to keep my training schedule, but I've learned I need very fresh and rested legs before a race. Therefore, I wanted to make this run count, just as I was running the race already. I aimed for an 11:30 pace. It was realistic and doable, yet still shaving a minimum of 1:30 minutes off my regular, recent pace.

As I set out to run, I checked my mp3 player to glance at the time (8:02 p.m.). I also set my stopwatch on my phone and took off. I just ran. Actually I ran my usual 3+ miler course in reverse, and I know I'll be doing it again. But I meander off point. I knew I was running a faster pace, but I didn't care. All I wanted was to run consistently and beat a 45 minute time. Around the first mile marker, I checked my clock...only 11 minutes passed since my first step. Seeing that added wings to my feet. I kept my pace steady, enjoying the weather, even though humid, and the 'new route'. Just chugged away with only one 20-second stop to retie my shoe.

Soon enough, I realized I was approximately half a mile from my house. I ached to look at the clock, but I refused. One step after another, wind at my neck, sweat dripping down my face and back, loud rock music filling my ears, just running. If you ever read about any of my runs before, I end my runs uphill, yes, up an excruciating hill I do not even like to drive up. I looked at my clock (8:32 p.m.) and started to get discouraged. Ugh, almost 40 minutes, I felt faster than that. I decided I could still shoot for a PR. I sprinted up that hill like I was scrambling from zombies and crashed through my front door.

I checked my time. 8:34 p.m. Wait, that's 32:00 minutes. WHAT?!?!?! I swore I was pushing 40 minutes. Apparently, I looked at my clock wrong or can't do basic math functions while running and tried to make the worst better. I ended up making a PR on my 3.02 mile route at my college-age pace of 10:35 per mile. That means it's been 12, nearly 13, years since I've ran under a 11 minute mile. To top it off, I shaved 3:25 minutes off my pace! I'm so excited I'm still jumping out of my skin. I wish I could tell you what I did to improve so much: hydration, eating enough, weather, you name it. I can't. Everything just clicked for that particular run; it all fell in place, one step at a time.