I have no excuses. At this point, I haven’t run a whole lot in the last couple of weeks.
I’ll do better.
I ran home from work today. It’s the first time I’ve done that in quite a while. It was dark, and everything. Next time, flashy light and headlamp will have to be part of my outfit, methinks.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Race? Or, training run?
I’m heading off to run the Mother’s Day Classic 10k this morning. I wouldn’t hazard a guess to how long it’s going to take me, considering I haven’t really trained at all, and didn’t run at all last week. If I can get in at under 60 minutes, I’ll count it as a win and move on, but it wont be the end of the world if I can’t crack the 60 minute barrier. But... I have done it before. No. Just because I’m on fairly fresh legs right now I shouldn’t be stupid and aim for a PB. Even though the course is certified.
Agh. I don’t know.
I’d better go get ready.
Agh. I don’t know.
I’d better go get ready.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The lazy picture post
This is my reward to myself for a job well done. I gotta say, though, it did hurt a bit more than some of my other tattoos because my ankles are getting so bony.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The Post-Run Rundown
As the time listed officially on the website and the time I got from my Garmin are four minutes apart, I don’t want to even hazard a guess to the ACTUAL time it took me to run the marathon, but I’m going to err on the conservative side and use my gun time of 4:52:50.
I wasn’t aiming for any particular time, and at times during the race I doubted that a finish was even possible, but I’ve gotta say that I’m relieved I got in under 5 hours. That summarises my mental state, ever since i crossed the finish line.
RELIEF.
I am so glad that it’s over. I’ve never encountered anything as difficult or emotional in my entire life.
I started the race nervous and not particularly warmed up, pulling out my iPod pretty much the moment I crossed the start line to provide some necessary distraction. As usual, I found myself pulled along by the crowd for the first couple of kilometres before I reined myself in, realising that a large proportion of the crowd was running at their half marathon pace, not their marathon pace. I settled for a 6:30km pace, as it seemed comfortable to me (but not too comfortable). For the first 21 km, I continued in this manner, pretty strong, pretty confident. I chatted to some other people, surprisingly. I enjoyed the scenery. And then, things got hard.
My left leg started to niggle at me at the halfway point, and I started to feel a little iffy despite having already consumed two gels (one at 10k, another at 18k or thereabouts). I had stopped at a public toilet somewhere along the way, but even that short respite hadn’t perked me up at all. I found myself counting down kilometre to kilometre, which is a bad habit to get into too early. The rain was relentless, and it was cold. More than anything, I wanted to stop and go home. I made it to the 28 km mark, where slower runners would be diverted along the bike paths after 3 hours. I missed the cut-off by less than 2 minutes. I was devastated. On the bike path along the lakeside, with minimal signage and a drastically reduced crowd, I felt like I was the only marathon runner left on the road. It was a dismal and depressing feeling.
At 31 km, I lost all the energy in my legs. My speed had been flagging for a couple of kilometres, increasing from 6:30 to 6:45, to 7:20. I hit the wall. I ran out of energy. I started crying, pulled out my phone. I wailed at Simon that I was done, I couldn’t run anymore, I had failed. He asked me if I was going to finish. I said I would try, but I couldn’t run. He told me he was proud of me, he told me he knew I could do it.
Somehow, I kept going. I had to walk, in short spurts, and when I ran my legs were like lead. But I kept going. When I made it to the final turn-around point, I could barely believe it. Somewhere along the way, another runner going in the other direction told me not to run again if I’d started walking, or at least that’s what it sounded like. But I couldn’t give up. I ran, then I walked, then when I got to the 41 km mark, I just ran.
Nothing can beat the feeling when I approached the finish line and I saw Simon, and my mum, and I knew it was over.
Even now, two days after finishing the race, everything hurts. This is a testament to how much strain my body was under. My legs scream at me every time I stand up, and the pain radiates from my neck, all the way down my body. Mystery bruises are everywhere. My right hip clicks when I move, my left knee does the same.
I’m heading out to get my marathon tattoo tomorrow. Hopefully my legs will be recovered enough by then that it’s not an unpleasant experience.
Then, I need to figure out what to aim for next. A triathlon? Another half? Another full? An ultra? Nah. Not an ultra. I’ll need to give it some thought.
I wasn’t aiming for any particular time, and at times during the race I doubted that a finish was even possible, but I’ve gotta say that I’m relieved I got in under 5 hours. That summarises my mental state, ever since i crossed the finish line.
RELIEF.
I am so glad that it’s over. I’ve never encountered anything as difficult or emotional in my entire life.
I started the race nervous and not particularly warmed up, pulling out my iPod pretty much the moment I crossed the start line to provide some necessary distraction. As usual, I found myself pulled along by the crowd for the first couple of kilometres before I reined myself in, realising that a large proportion of the crowd was running at their half marathon pace, not their marathon pace. I settled for a 6:30km pace, as it seemed comfortable to me (but not too comfortable). For the first 21 km, I continued in this manner, pretty strong, pretty confident. I chatted to some other people, surprisingly. I enjoyed the scenery. And then, things got hard.
My left leg started to niggle at me at the halfway point, and I started to feel a little iffy despite having already consumed two gels (one at 10k, another at 18k or thereabouts). I had stopped at a public toilet somewhere along the way, but even that short respite hadn’t perked me up at all. I found myself counting down kilometre to kilometre, which is a bad habit to get into too early. The rain was relentless, and it was cold. More than anything, I wanted to stop and go home. I made it to the 28 km mark, where slower runners would be diverted along the bike paths after 3 hours. I missed the cut-off by less than 2 minutes. I was devastated. On the bike path along the lakeside, with minimal signage and a drastically reduced crowd, I felt like I was the only marathon runner left on the road. It was a dismal and depressing feeling.
At 31 km, I lost all the energy in my legs. My speed had been flagging for a couple of kilometres, increasing from 6:30 to 6:45, to 7:20. I hit the wall. I ran out of energy. I started crying, pulled out my phone. I wailed at Simon that I was done, I couldn’t run anymore, I had failed. He asked me if I was going to finish. I said I would try, but I couldn’t run. He told me he was proud of me, he told me he knew I could do it.
Somehow, I kept going. I had to walk, in short spurts, and when I ran my legs were like lead. But I kept going. When I made it to the final turn-around point, I could barely believe it. Somewhere along the way, another runner going in the other direction told me not to run again if I’d started walking, or at least that’s what it sounded like. But I couldn’t give up. I ran, then I walked, then when I got to the 41 km mark, I just ran.
Nothing can beat the feeling when I approached the finish line and I saw Simon, and my mum, and I knew it was over.
Even now, two days after finishing the race, everything hurts. This is a testament to how much strain my body was under. My legs scream at me every time I stand up, and the pain radiates from my neck, all the way down my body. Mystery bruises are everywhere. My right hip clicks when I move, my left knee does the same.
I’m heading out to get my marathon tattoo tomorrow. Hopefully my legs will be recovered enough by then that it’s not an unpleasant experience.
Then, I need to figure out what to aim for next. A triathlon? Another half? Another full? An ultra? Nah. Not an ultra. I’ll need to give it some thought.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Final Countdown
So here it is. Just about twelve hours until the marathon. I am shit-scared.
I ran home on Tuesday, even though I wasn’t sure I should, but I was worried that I had undertrained and that I must be losing fitness. Even though I’ve been able to stop thinking about it for most of the week, I’m still afraid that I haven’t trained enough. I feel like I’ve been boring everybody to tears with my worrying and complaining and nerves.
I just made my playlists, got my clothes together, and made sure my electrical devices are charged or charging.
I still feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.
I know I shouldn’t drink, but I really think I need some sort of nerve-calmer. A beer, maybe.
I ran home on Tuesday, even though I wasn’t sure I should, but I was worried that I had undertrained and that I must be losing fitness. Even though I’ve been able to stop thinking about it for most of the week, I’m still afraid that I haven’t trained enough. I feel like I’ve been boring everybody to tears with my worrying and complaining and nerves.
I just made my playlists, got my clothes together, and made sure my electrical devices are charged or charging.
I still feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.
I know I shouldn’t drink, but I really think I need some sort of nerve-calmer. A beer, maybe.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
A momentary wallow in marathon negativity
Ten days. TEN days. I might be a little anxious. Maybe. A lot.
Thoughts:
I’m not sure but I may have misjudged how many weeks I had left, and the weekend I took off due to the combination of balloon ride, long bus trip, cupcakes and mucho booze would probably have been the last chance I had to get in another long run before my taper.
Did I do enough long runs? Were my long runs long enough?
42.2 kilometres is ten whole kilometres longer than my longest long run. Ten. Kilometres. An hour or more.
I only ran home tonight, and my knees hurt. My shins hurt. I may be whinging a little.
I have never done this. I don’t know if I CAN do this. Do I even really want to do this?
Of course I want to do this. I have to want to do this. How could I have gotten so far if I didn’t really want it?
Alright. No more negativity. Regardless of whether I’m actually ready for the big day, it’s coming and I will run it. Even if I have to walk to the finish line. Even if I cry like a whiny little girl at the end, which we all know I will do, and for a number of reasons. Because I’m tired, because I’m in pain, because I can’t believe that I’m actually about to finish the race.
April 10. Bring it on.
Thoughts:
I’m not sure but I may have misjudged how many weeks I had left, and the weekend I took off due to the combination of balloon ride, long bus trip, cupcakes and mucho booze would probably have been the last chance I had to get in another long run before my taper.
Did I do enough long runs? Were my long runs long enough?
42.2 kilometres is ten whole kilometres longer than my longest long run. Ten. Kilometres. An hour or more.
I only ran home tonight, and my knees hurt. My shins hurt. I may be whinging a little.
I have never done this. I don’t know if I CAN do this. Do I even really want to do this?
Of course I want to do this. I have to want to do this. How could I have gotten so far if I didn’t really want it?
Alright. No more negativity. Regardless of whether I’m actually ready for the big day, it’s coming and I will run it. Even if I have to walk to the finish line. Even if I cry like a whiny little girl at the end, which we all know I will do, and for a number of reasons. Because I’m tired, because I’m in pain, because I can’t believe that I’m actually about to finish the race.
April 10. Bring it on.
Friday, March 25, 2011
The Return Email
I received the following email today from Fairfax events, about the iPod issue at the marathon.
Hi Anika,
You will not be disqualified for running with an ipod or receive any penalty. We include it as a guideline because the use of ipods can be a safety hazard. Runners listening to loud music tend to be less aware of other runners and race marshals who may be trying to communicate with them.
Good luck with the event.
WIN!
Okay, so I know I’m supposed to be all rational and adult about it and be all:
“I’m glad they’re being rational, and I’ve reconsidered it, and decided I won’t be needing my iPod in the race after all. I wouldn’t want to cause a safety hazard.”
But I won’t say that. I’ll carry on being inconsiderate (at least in a technical sense), and in doing so will remain just as considerate of others as I always have in a race situation.
Hi Anika,
You will not be disqualified for running with an ipod or receive any penalty. We include it as a guideline because the use of ipods can be a safety hazard. Runners listening to loud music tend to be less aware of other runners and race marshals who may be trying to communicate with them.
Good luck with the event.
WIN!
Okay, so I know I’m supposed to be all rational and adult about it and be all:
“I’m glad they’re being rational, and I’ve reconsidered it, and decided I won’t be needing my iPod in the race after all. I wouldn’t want to cause a safety hazard.”
But I won’t say that. I’ll carry on being inconsiderate (at least in a technical sense), and in doing so will remain just as considerate of others as I always have in a race situation.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The fast run home, and race pack: wtf?
I haven’t been running a lot lately. I feel like I’m making a confession at a Lazy Bitches Anonymous meeting, but I have an excuse, don’t I? I’m tapering. I ran home once last week, and I ran home once this week. No long run, too much on. Last night’s run was fast, though. Really, really fast. I left work late, maybe twenty past five, and I got home early. Five to six, or thereabouts. I know I took a walk break or two during the run so when I was running I must have been running fast.
My race pack for the marathon was here when I got home last night, also. My race number is ’64’, which looks entirely odd on my bib. I’ve never had a race number as low, even in races with two hundred or so participants. There’s these strange hard plastic strips on the back of the bib, and I’m not sure if they have something to do with the timing tag, or what. The runner’s guide doesn’t mention. The runner’s guide does, however, have one of my least favourite sentences written in it, in the ‘Runner’s Etiquette’ section:
Refrain from using iPods or other music devices
Sadface.
I know, I’m a selfish cow. I race with an iPod. There’s a special circle of hell devoted to self-centered freaks just like me. Where we can trip over each other and cut each other off at water stops and ignore the marshals for all eternity.
Look, I’ve already gotten as much criticism of iPods as I can handle from the Coolrunning forum. Because iPods are EVIL. And why can’t you just enjoy the ATMOSPHERE, and make CONVERSATION, and enjoy the SCENERY, and listen to the BIRDS. If you need an iPod, you OBVIOUSLY don’t like running at all. Funnily enough, nobody ever seems to want to make conversation with me in a race, even when I’m not wearing the iPod. I just like music. I like running, but it’s tough. It’s always going to be tough. If the iPod gets me through the toughest spots, then I’m going to keep on using it, even if I get shunned by all the ‘real’ runners.
I wrote an email to Fairfax asking if it’s a ‘ban’ or a ‘guideline’, and whether disqualification will be on the cards if I bring the demonic music machine along. Because if it isn’t? I will bring the iPod. I will listen to it on low low volume (as I always do in races) mostly with one earpiece out (as I always do in races) and if you feel the need to swear, slap, scream at me because you think I’m selfish, then that’s your prerogative.
My race pack for the marathon was here when I got home last night, also. My race number is ’64’, which looks entirely odd on my bib. I’ve never had a race number as low, even in races with two hundred or so participants. There’s these strange hard plastic strips on the back of the bib, and I’m not sure if they have something to do with the timing tag, or what. The runner’s guide doesn’t mention. The runner’s guide does, however, have one of my least favourite sentences written in it, in the ‘Runner’s Etiquette’ section:
Refrain from using iPods or other music devices
Sadface.
I know, I’m a selfish cow. I race with an iPod. There’s a special circle of hell devoted to self-centered freaks just like me. Where we can trip over each other and cut each other off at water stops and ignore the marshals for all eternity.
Look, I’ve already gotten as much criticism of iPods as I can handle from the Coolrunning forum. Because iPods are EVIL. And why can’t you just enjoy the ATMOSPHERE, and make CONVERSATION, and enjoy the SCENERY, and listen to the BIRDS. If you need an iPod, you OBVIOUSLY don’t like running at all. Funnily enough, nobody ever seems to want to make conversation with me in a race, even when I’m not wearing the iPod. I just like music. I like running, but it’s tough. It’s always going to be tough. If the iPod gets me through the toughest spots, then I’m going to keep on using it, even if I get shunned by all the ‘real’ runners.
I wrote an email to Fairfax asking if it’s a ‘ban’ or a ‘guideline’, and whether disqualification will be on the cards if I bring the demonic music machine along. Because if it isn’t? I will bring the iPod. I will listen to it on low low volume (as I always do in races) mostly with one earpiece out (as I always do in races) and if you feel the need to swear, slap, scream at me because you think I’m selfish, then that’s your prerogative.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Alrighty then.
I don’t want to worry unnecessarily about this, but I’ve been getting a warning tenderness in my right leg after running. Here are the two words that fill me with dread:
Shin. Splints.
I don’t think it’s at the point yet to panic, but I’m going to take it easy regardless. Normally I would have run home from work tonight, but after hip hop last night I have a massive bruise on my left knee and I didn’t want to push myself. Right now I’d really like to keep myself uninjured. I’ve started my taper, and the big race is less than a month away. Yay. Exciting.
Shin. Splints.
I don’t think it’s at the point yet to panic, but I’m going to take it easy regardless. Normally I would have run home from work tonight, but after hip hop last night I have a massive bruise on my left knee and I didn’t want to push myself. Right now I’d really like to keep myself uninjured. I’ve started my taper, and the big race is less than a month away. Yay. Exciting.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Malaise
I managed to run 32 km on Saturday, despite my current overwhelming fatigue and growing impatience with long runs. I would love to be energetic and excited about every run, but at the moment it’s simply not happening.
Only three long training runs to go. Maybe one or two of those runs will be 30+ kms, then begins the taper. I’ve been reading blogs and forums, looking up tips and tricks and motivation and reassurances for first time marathoners, and for everything I read that convinces me I’m not ready, there’s something else that fills me with a hopeful (if temporary) confidence. My main worry is that I’m too slow, but even if I am there’s a six and a half hour cutoff.
I bought some gels to try out for fuelling on the weekend, even though my last experiment with gels wasn’t all that successful. Up until now, I’ve brought snacks along for the really long runs, but they’ve been a varied grab bag of stuff, whatever I could grab on the way out the door. Lollies, like those forest berry jelly gummy things with sugar on, also on one memorable occasion a crappy compound chocolate coin (which tasted like the sweetest thing in the world after fifteen or twenty kilometres). Grapes, on my first 30 km run. This last weekend, it was a new low - a little plastic container filled with about a tablespoon and a half of peanut butter. That didn’t really work. So I’ll try gels.
In other news, I ran home really fast tonight. It was awesome, once I got into it. One of those ‘I’m invincible and the world is awesome’ sort of runs. Despite how tired I was before I started running.
Only three long training runs to go. Maybe one or two of those runs will be 30+ kms, then begins the taper. I’ve been reading blogs and forums, looking up tips and tricks and motivation and reassurances for first time marathoners, and for everything I read that convinces me I’m not ready, there’s something else that fills me with a hopeful (if temporary) confidence. My main worry is that I’m too slow, but even if I am there’s a six and a half hour cutoff.
I bought some gels to try out for fuelling on the weekend, even though my last experiment with gels wasn’t all that successful. Up until now, I’ve brought snacks along for the really long runs, but they’ve been a varied grab bag of stuff, whatever I could grab on the way out the door. Lollies, like those forest berry jelly gummy things with sugar on, also on one memorable occasion a crappy compound chocolate coin (which tasted like the sweetest thing in the world after fifteen or twenty kilometres). Grapes, on my first 30 km run. This last weekend, it was a new low - a little plastic container filled with about a tablespoon and a half of peanut butter. That didn’t really work. So I’ll try gels.
In other news, I ran home really fast tonight. It was awesome, once I got into it. One of those ‘I’m invincible and the world is awesome’ sort of runs. Despite how tired I was before I started running.
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