And I! Would! Walk! Five! Hun! -Dred! Miles!

Or rather, run. Sorry, that song has been stuck in my head since yesterday and I can’t seem to shake it.

My official time for the marathon yesterday is in, and according to the website I managed to scrape through in 4:46:02. While this didn’t top my goal of sub-4:45, it’s still a personal best and I’m not going to be disappointed about it. I managed it, never hit the wall, and while I took several short walk breaks (of no more than a minute at a time) I’m going to stick to my guns and tell the world with no misgivings that I ran that bitch. I RAN the shit out of that bitch.

The first thirteen or so kilometres of the run were easier than I’d hoped, and even verging on fun. This is for one reason: Distraction. I had my best running buddy along for the ride, running her first half-marathon. It’s amazing how much more awesome things can be with an awesome running buddy to annoy. I feel bad that I fucked up the first couple of minutes of her race with my garmin mishaps, but I’m so proud that she managed to finish her first half in the time she wanted. Two thumbs up, you awesome lady, you!

Yeah, garmin mishaps. So now I’m going to bitch and whine about my reliance on technology and how I’d love to be one of those runners who can just strap on shoes (or not even that, barefoot runners are pretty hardcore) and run out the door of a morning, but I know that any such thing would be at least semi-bullshit. I need my time, my heart rate, my pace. Without that, I’m blind and even stupider than usual. So when we started the race, and my garmin still hadn’t found the freaking satellite, I had no other option (in my mind, at least) than to stop and wait for the little bastard to get a signal. Maybe lost a minute. No big deal, but I freaked the fuck out. And I didn’t get an accurate time for the race. It doesn’t really matter. But in any case, sorry ‘bout that, Dina.

After the half-marathon turn-around point, I plugged in my headphones, cranked some Flock of Seagulls and tried not to focus on the fact that I was already in a bit of pain. My knees weren’t too bad, my right leg had been giving me issues for a couple of days but it wasn’t too bad, however I was still a bit hurty and I can’t put my finger on how. I chugged my first gel at about twelve kms, did a second at about the 20k mark. Don’t recall where I hit the third, but I know I did four in total. Ended up coming home with four gels in my bumbag, and only two of them were ones I’d brought with me.


Here I am, at the halfway point. I love this sign.

Best thing about this whole escapade is that when I hit 31 kms, I was expecting that it was only a matter of time before I fizzled out. But the marker passed, and the next, and the next, and I was still running. Even at the end, I hadn’t walked more than four or five times. I did go blind at one point, at least temporarily. Glycogen depletion is a bitch. My vision greyed out, and my brain wouldn’t interpret the things I was seeing. Things went a little migraine-y. I felt dizzy, drunk. Does this mean that I bonked and don’t even want to acknowledge it? I don’t think so, but some of these symptoms match up with hypoglycaemia, so maybe I did. But I was still running.

The end hurt. My back, my hips. The last two kilometres were pure hell, and I kept wanting to walk it in, maybe dash the last hundred metres, but people who ran by me kept on pushing me forward. Saying that I’d be cheating myself. Come on, you can do it. I ran, even though I was sobbing with pain and the anticipation of relief. I ran, and I finished.

Had to take today off work because when I tried to get out of bed this morning, I just couldn’t. A day of diligent, painful stretching has led to legs that are somewhat functional (although sitting down and standing up still means a little bit of yelping) but my hips are still painful, and my back is a minefield of agony. Those stretchy bandages are a wonder though, for my legs. I wish they had stuff like that for my back.

Maybe I need a massage. I can’t really afford a massage.

Moral to this story: I am an idiot who deserves everything she gets. But hell, I’m an idiot who has run two marathons. So screw you, sensible person!

You really want to know what I listen to in a race?

So, here’s an excerpt of the playlist I’ve set up for tomorrow’s Marathon. I know that there’s at least one song on here that will make every person who reads this, regardless of their musical taste, go “What the ever-living fuck?” but it can’t be helped. I’m a complex person. I listen to embarrassing shit. Haters can hate, but if you hate I will pout. Then I’ll get over it, and I’m the one who’ll be running along tomorrow, getting down to this funky-ass playlist.

It may seem a little short, but like I said, this is just an excerpt. There are songs that even I can’t admit I listen to because they’re so goddamn embarrassing. Think of the daggiest song on this list, times that by ten, and you’re coming close to the audio sewage that I’ll be wading in, somewhat self-consciously.

So for those who’d rather keep their mental picture of me being awesome intact, look away now! Without further ado (and for some reason, in semi-alphabetical order of artist):

A-ha - Take On Me
        (no explanation required, I should think. This song rocks.)
Apocalyptica - Ruska
Barenaked Ladies - Another Postcard
Beck - Girl
Beck - Go it Alone
Beck - Nicotine & Gravy
Beck - Tropicalia
Billy Idol - Mony Mony
        (yes.)
The Black Keys - Tighten Up
The Black Keys - Run Right Back
        (not the only song with a fitting title)
Cake - Comfort Eagle
Cake - Rock ’n’ Roll Lifestyle
Cake - Wheels
Cake - Satan is my Motor
The Chemical Brothers - My Elastic Eye
Childish Gambino - Bonfire
Childish Gambino - Heartbeat
Florence + The Machine - Dog Days are Over
Foo Fighters - Bridge Burning
The Glitch Mob - Drink the Sea
        (the whole album)
Gorillaz - Superfast Jellyfish
Justin Timberlake - What Goes Around...Comes Around...
        (yes, I went there)
Kanye West - All of the Lights
        (and there)
Jackson Five - ABC
Of Monsters and Men - Little Talks
OK Go - Here it Goes Again
Oomph - Beim Ersten Mal Tut’s Immer Weh
Oomph - Revolution
Outkast - Hey Ya
        (shake it! SHAKE IT!)
Pendulum - Propane Nightmares
The Presets - If I Know You
Queen - We are the Champions
Rammstein - Sonne
Rammstein - Ich Tu Dir Weh
Rammstein - Feuer Frei!
Red Hot Chilli Peppers - Can’t Stop
Survivor - Eye of the Tiger
MC Hammer - U Can’t Touch This
The Hives - Go Right Ahead
Vitamin String Quartet - Motion Picture Soundtrack
Weezer - Undone (the Sweater Song)
Weezer - Say It Ain’t So
Why? - The Vowels Part 2
30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
The Mars Volta - L’Via L’Viaquez
Blind Melon - No Rain
Poison - Every Rose Has it’s Thorn
        (this is when we start sliding downhill)
Flock of Seagulls - I Ran
        (yeah. But it’s topical.)
Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere
        (as is this)
The Proclaimers - I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)

And, on that note... :)

Reflections: You've come a long way, baby!

So I had this dream that I was walking down the street on which I used to live. I found my old house, and it looked just the same as it did when I lived there. For some reason, I didn’t have any issues with opening the door and walking right in. The house was quiet, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. I knocked on my old bedroom door, and someone said “What?” in a fairly pissed-off tone. I poked my head in, and there I was, lying on the bed, eating ice-cream.

It was me, and I think I was about 15 years old, or thereabouts. I had terrible hair, I was pale, I looked unhealthy. I was quite chubby.

The dream kind of fell apart at this point, but if the dream continued and I could control it, I know what I would have done. I would have sat down and told the younger version of myself that I’m running my second marathon on Sunday. I would have told her that life isn’t always as shit as it seemed back then. I would have said that there’s more to life than unhealthy food and television. I would have told her that she’d live to the age of 30. She’d actually enjoy running and being strong and she’d actually come to like the way she looked. She’d come to love herself, if only occasionally.

I would tell the 15-year old me that there would be ups and downs throughout her life, that she would get fatter before she got thinner, then she’d only lose 5 kilos before she gave up and got even fatter than before. I would tell her that this was okay, because crash dieting isn’t a sustainable method of weight loss. And one day, she’d lose the weight and she wouldn’t put it back on. I’d tell her that the way she used to say that she would never be a size 10 because of her bone structure was a load of bullshit, and one day she’d be wearing a size 8 in some stuff and she’d still have fairly decent tits.

I would impress upon the 15 year-old me that it is possible to run 42 kilometres without dying, that speed isn’t everything and even though she would be slow, she would always get there in the end.

I would tell her that she would one day kick herself out of her misery spiral, and she would come to realise the beauty in the universe.

And, only after I’d told her all this, and I’d made her promise that she’d cheer the fuck up, only then, I would take her ice-cream and I would eat it, because ice-cream is awesome. And I want some ice-cream. Why don’t I have ice-cream?

I would tell you what the moral behind all this is, but I don’t really think there is one.

Still Alive!

Alright, let’s do this. I’ve had three margaritas so you may have to excuse a lack of coherence. As I’m Little Miss Social Butterfly at the moment, I feel like I need to grab hold of any inspiration that might occur because I probably won’t have time later.

I’m living in my new apartment. It’s big. And, it’s neat. It’s also all the way out in Gungahlin, so a simple run around the lake (any lake, apart from Yerrabi Pond) takes a significant journey just to get there. This is a good thing.

So... Marathon. Less than a month. Scared? Petrified. My race pack arrived at mum’s place this week, so it’s real now. It’s concrete. And I don’t think I’m going to be as ready as I would like to be. But that’s fine. I’m going to aim for a sub-4 hr 45 min finish, and anything beyond that will be a bonus.

Once the race is over, I can start planning my costume for the City2Surf. I have many ideas. The newest idea involves pirates. Stay tuned for updates.

Memories are made of this

So... Things all sort of fell in a heap. I had to move in with mum for the moment, but I managed to find another awesome apartment which I’ll be moving into on Friday. It’ll all pick up. Hopefully. Eventually.

One thing I was a little worried about (which was pointless, and kinda dumb because I had far more important things to worry about) was my marathon training. It’s less than two months away, and up until yesterday I hadn’t even run once in more than two weeks. Yikes. I did sign up for the marathon though, because I need to aim for goals and this is a pretty good goal.

I didn’t expect to run very far yesterday, but I hoped for 25 kilometres so I could say my training was somewhat on track. I managed to do a little better than that. I ran from mum’s place in Wanniassa to Lake Burley Griffin in the city, around the lake and back to mum’s again. 27.78 kilometres, all up. I felt like I even had more in the tank after I’d finished. So I’m satisfied. Legs are a little... Well, I’m not going to lie. Legs hurt like a son of a bitch. My left knee is discoloured, and it makes odd squishy noises sometimes. It swelled up pretty big yesterday, but it’s more normal knee-sized today. My back is really tight as well. I could do with a massage. Maybe I’ll fork out for one in the next couple of weeks. A nice painful deep tissue remedial massage.

In the Hizzouse. Or more to the point, out of the hizzouse.

I’m moving house on the weekend. I know, this seemingly comes out of the blue but it’s a potential reality that I’ve been living with for quite some time now. I’m moving all the way across town, so now for the craziness of the actual move, the purchasing of furniture and the confusing mire of getting electricity, telephone, internet et cetera. Additionally, the fun of trying to figure out an appropriate running route to use for my weekend training. I don’t know of any trails around the Woden area, at least not any that would give me something interesting to look at for the 30 or so kilometres that I’ll be running very soon, every Saturday morning.

Lake Burley Griffin, maybe? I know how to run north. It’s a pretty good run, nice and scenic. I’d definitely have options to increase distance.

I managed 21 kms last Friday morning. I’m painfully aware of how far behind I am in my training, but I’m just going to have to live with it. I dunno. I could get lucky and improve on last year’s time. But does it really matter if I don’t break it by much? A marathon is always a marathon, whether it’s fast or slow. It’s always an achievement. You can’t discount a marathon. It’s fucking hardcore, no matter which way you look at it.

Object lesson

Do you want to hear a story? It’s about stupidity, mainly, but it’s stupidity that comes from a place of good intention.

I was walking home from the bus stop on Wednesday. Marvelously hot day, and I’d managed to overcome my streak of choosing the wrong outfit for the weather. As a result, I was in a sleeveless blouse, a short short skirt and heels. As soon as I got off the bus, I realised that my feet hurt. Not overwhelmingly, but I had the urge to take my shoes off and walk home, at least a portion of the way, barefoot. Like I used to do, when I was a kid and didn’t have a preoccupation with being properly shod at all times. I love feeling the ground underneath my feet as I walk. It was such a lovely day that I decided to give in to my impulse.

The footpath was hot. I realised that at once. It didn’t feel unbearably hot, though, so I walked barefoot for a couple of minutes before spotting a patch of broken glass up ahead. I chickened out and put my shoes back on then. My feet hurt more now, but I attributed it to the shoes. As soon as I got home I took my shoes off again, and as soon as I took a single agonised step, realised what I’d done. The soles of both feet were burned from contact with the hot pavement. Because of the calluses on my soles, I hadn’t put my shoes back on straight away when I should have. My feet were just great big blisters, apart from the curve of my arches.

So anyway, that’s the story. I know it was dumb, but people do dumb things sometimes.

The next day I couldn’t walk at all to begin with. Friday was bearable. This morning my feet were recovered to an extent that I actually decided to get out there and run, because the blisters were all gone. I was hoping to jump right in to the Marathon training and go for 25 kilometres.

Yeah, didn’t quite get there. But I’m happy with the 14 or so kilometres I did manage to run. I kept getting these sharp stabbing pains from the midsole of both feet. I think this might be a lingering reminder of my burned feet, and probably a useful lesson regarding the importance of shoes unless you’re inside. Or at the beach. Or on grass.

I really want to go to the beach now, so I can walk barefoot in the sand.

A little post-race hibernation

It might be a little belated, but I ran the Cadbury Half Marathon on Sunday! Hooray!



And I won!

Nah, not really. Are you kidding? If people like me started winning races, I’d be worried.

Major thoughts? I’ve got to find some way to sunscreen the top of my head. I know I’ve thought about this before. I certainly wasn’t thinking about it the day of the race. The first time it even popped into my head was the morning after the race when I simultaneously stepped under the shower, and into a world of pain. I’m not sure if it’s just a line where the part in my hair was exposed to the treacherous Tasmanian sun (hey, it was raining to begin with. Why do you mock me, sun?) or whether my entire head was burned.. But I’m still feeling it now. As someone who liberally douses themselves in 30+ before even leaving the house, I can’t stand missing a spot. I don’t know how I’m supposed to sunscreen myself on the top of the head. Maybe I should wear a hat that isn’t just a visor. Maybe I should only participate in races that take place in the dark.




The swag from this race was pretty goddamn awesome. They gave me a medal (as seen above, backwards). They gave me chocolate (of the standard Dairy Milk variety) and more chocolate (also Dairy Milk. I’m sensing a theme here). They gave me a shirt. And they gave me a magazine subscription. I tried to queue for a sausage sandwich but failed. I didn’t really mind as I was previously queuing for a free leg massage, and I succeeded in that. And I’d take massages over sausages any day of the week. Except maybe Thursday.

I guess I should say something about the race as well, shouldn’t I? Well, I maybe enjoyed about two thirds of the race. The rest was painful and unpleasant. One minute I’d be thinking about how miserable I was, how I hated everything, how the world was a sucky place. Two minutes later, I’d love everything, I’d love the world and the pain wouldn’t even be there. Endorphins like to mess with my brain chemistry.

In the end I came in at 2 hours, 5 minutes, 44 seconds. About ten and a half minutes (give or take) faster than my half marathon personal best. I only count official results as personal bests, mind you. I know I’ve run faster than my last PB in training. But that doesn’t count. I actually ran this one faster (about 20 seconds, maybe), but they didn’t have a mat at the start, just the end. The result was from gun time. But I don’t mind. The field was small, and it didn’t add much to my time.

I still haven’t registered for the Canberra Mara in April. I know I should, but I’m a little scared. As soon as I register, it’s real. I have to start training. I should have already started training. Yes, I know, I’m up to 20-something kilometres in my long run, but I know I’m going to have to do better than one training run a week to get through this one.

Lazy days, and a new resolution

You would think that a nice long week off work would result in a lot of running and maybe some swimming or cycling or other fun fun outdoor active activities.

Scratch that. I knew what this week would involve. Food, computer games, lots of movies and not a lot of moving at all. And maybe some baking. So I guess this has been a successful holiday, because that’s what I’ve been doing.

I have been intending to get out there and do some running for the last couple of mornings. Sunday was Christmas, so I gave myself the day off. Monday was Boxing Day, a day of dubious purpose to be sure, but I didn’t think it involved running. Tuesday, I think I may have had a late night. Wednesday, pretty much the same. I set my alarm for 5am, but I couldn’t manage to drag myself out of bed until half past, and then I had a stomachache. Thursday morning I only got home at just before 1am, so waking up four hours later didn’t appeal to me.

Today, I got up at 6am. Finally managed to get out there on the road. It was a gorgeous morning, not a cloud in the sky. I didn’t even negotiate with myself the way I usually do, like “Maybe you can just run TO the lake, and if you don’t feel like running around it, you can turn up College Street. At least that’s six kilometres. If you just do one lap around Gininderra, hey, that’s fourteen kilometres. Even better! Maybe if you feel okay after that, you can press on for the half.” I just went for it, and even though it wasn’t an easy one later on (I was really hurting by the 18k mark) I managed to get home in 2 hours, 11 minutes.

This is a massive win, because my half marathon personal best is 2 hours 16 minutes or thereabouts. Five minutes off my PB, and I wasn’t going particularly fast.

Happyface.

I fell asleep as soon as I came home, though. It was pretty warm out there, and I sorta crashed as soon as I came in the door. The tendons at the back of my ankles are really tight right now. I think I should start stretching.

Should I make that one of my new year’s resolutions? I need to stretch more.

You spin me right round baby, right round

Helluva crazy weekend. I really wanted to manage 21 kilometres on Saturday, and I did. So I win. Hooray! These long runs are really starting to screw me around, though. I get low blood sugar, I eat more sugar to literally keep myself awake, I get a headache, I crash, I fall asleep in the middle of the day... After yesterday’s run, I wasn’t much good for the rest of the day. Irritable. Unable to focus. I’m thinking there might be a diet issue, but I have no idea what it is.

So when I was running, I was trying to get Siri to play me some music. Exchange follows:
Me: Play my marathon endurance playlist.
Siri: (long pause) I’m sorry Cupcake, I didn’t catch that.
Me: Play my marathon endurance playlist.
Siri: (even longer pause) You don’t have a playlist named ‘Maritime Insurance’, Cupcake.

See, I made Siri call me Cupcake. It sounds so condescending when she says it in her little robot-y voice. I tried to get her to call me ‘asshat’, but she just paused for a moment and said “Could you please repeat that, Cupcake?”

I got cranky today for a variety of reasons, and rather than sit in my room and wallow in my shitty mood I put some clothes on, strapped on my running shoes and went out for a six kilometre jog. It kind of helped. Apart from the fact that I ate a whole bunch of fruit before I went running, and that didn’t do my stomach any favours.

One more week of work and then we’re shutting down over the Christmas holidays. Looking forward to a bit of a break.