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I've shut down comments over here for now, mostly because the spammers were driving me nuts. If I find myself doing a lot of running/training-related writing again, I may start posting over here again. For now, though, just check out my main site and we'll go from there.]]> Deep Thoughts Dawn 2007-12-20T08:08:30-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/11/nyc_marathon_20.html Disclaimer

Before we even get started here, I'll just get this out of the way: No, I did not see Katie Holmes on the course. Yes, I know we ran about the same time, but from the pictures I saw, she was starting in the elite women's corral whereas I was in the back of the green corral. What does that mean? It means that due to the wave start that the green corral had, she started the race a good 35 minutes before I did, so I never would have seen her. Although, knowing me, I could have been standing next to her in the start corral and would have found myself thinking, "Huh, that girl looks sort of like Katie Holmes. Go figure." I'm just on top of things like that.

Getting There

My training for this race, was, shall we say, somewhat inconsistent. Through circumstances that were either entirely under my control or entirely of my own creation, I wound up either skipping or cutting short a lot of my long runs. This meant that by the time the race rolled around, I'd done a bunch of 12-14 mile runs and a 20-mile run. Absolutely nothing in the 16-18 mile range. I had a bad feeling about this, and seriously considered deferring the race until next year when I could go into it better trained. But I was going to be out there anyway, travel and hotel were all set, and my hotel for Saturday and Sunday night had been prepaid so it's not like it would have saved me anything to fly home early. I told myself it would be OK. I kept my fingers crossed that my good looks and charming personality would, combined with my somewhat half-assed training, be enough to at least get me through the race. (And on an easier course, it probably would have been.) As I entered the expo, I took one more serious look at the "cancel" checkbox on my registration confirmation and wondered if I should just bag it. Then I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and traded it in for my number. For better or for worse, I was in.

Race Morning: Getting To The Start

In the weeks before the race, my inbox was filled with messages of increasing urgency from the marathon organization. Construction on the Verazano-Narrows Bridge! Green start corrals will be strictly enforced! Wave start for green runners! Buses may or may not get you there in time! Don't take buses from Midtown! Take the Staten Island ferry! Other buses? Take the ferry! Considering I was spending these weeks counting down to what was going to be a 5-day break from work, I had absolutely no mental capacity to deal with any of this. It all got filed under "things to worry about later," and my official plan for race morning was to wing it. Dealing with the corrals? Once I got to the start area, I'd just go where they told me to go, when they told me to go there. Easy enough. As for getting to the start? Well, I'd think about that later. Like on Saturday night. I knew what I'd have to do if I took the ferry in, and I knew what I'd have to do if I took the bus in. It was all going to be A-OK.

Ultimately, we opted for the buses. Our hotel was running a shuttle across to the Meadowlands, where the buses were picking up from, so we decided that if we got on one of the early shuttles, we'd be good to go. And we were. However, it meant that we were up at 5:30 for a 10:10 race start. Ugh. We were in the "athletes village" on Staten Island by 7 or so, which gave us plenty of time to walk around, pick up a bagel and a PowerBar, eat, relax, use the facilities.... all of the normal pre-race stuff. I spent a lot of time sitting around and relaxing, and I'd really wished that I'd brought a book because I had all sorts of time. Instead, I played with the internets on my new cell phone. Shortly before 9, I stripped off my extra layers that were going to gear-check, made one last visit to the port-o-lets, and then found a spot in my corral. And waited.

The Start

Promptly at 10:10, I heard a cannon go off signaling the start of the race. A few minutes later I heard cheering, and looking up to my left, could see runners on both levels of the bridge. They waved to us and we waved back. And still we waited. Our corral wasn't going anywhere, at least not anytime soon. Finally, around 10:30, we started moving forward.

The good news is that once we started moving, we moved at a pretty steady pace to the start line. Shortly before getting to the start, I took off the long-sleeved cotton tee I'd been wearing (I had both a short-sleeved and long-sleeved tech shirt layered under it) and tossed it aside. Of course, when I tossed it, I was in the middle of the crowd, so I attempted to throw it over everyone's heads into a clear spot. I slightly underestimated how hard I'd have to throw the shirt and it landed squarely on some dude's head. Oops. Sorry! I blended back into the crowd and crossed the chip mat shortly after 10:45.

The good news is that the wait was worth it - the reason they'd done the green runners in the wave start was because construction had half of the lower level of the bridge closed off, and they didn't want us to be too crowded. They certainly succeeded there - the bridge was wide open, all the way across. I settled into a nice easy pace, prepared to take my time to get over the bridge since it looked like a total monster on the elevation chart. (It was only a 150-foot high monster, but it was still the biggest hill on the course by far.) Crossing over the bridge, we had a great view of Manhattan to our left. I thought about stopping for a picture, but I knew there was no way it would turn out on my camera phone. The one thought I kept having was how far away it looked, and how by the end of the day I was going to run all the way over there. The thought I tried to keep myself from having was that we were going to take the long way around.

I crossed the first mile marker shortly after the bridge crested and looked at my watch: 11:30. 11:30? What? I knew I was going to have to bring that way down in the coming miles if I wanted to make it through the day in one piece - that was way, way too fast for a mile that was all uphill. I promised myself I'd slow down, take it even easier than I had been.... as soon as I got to the bottom of the bridge. Hey, it was all downhill, and I am not opposed to picking up a little free speed where I can get it.

Brooklyn

As soon as we came off the bridge, the overpasses were full of people waving, screaming, and holding signs saying "Welcome to Brooklyn!" They were pumped. They were psyched. Having us run through their neighborhood was clearly the highlight of their day, and it was awesome. As we came up off the freeway, the streets were absolutely lined with people cheering, screaming, waving, welcoming us into their little chunk of the city. As I passed the mile 3 marker, I noticed I was still clocking 11:30s. I did a quick check - I felt good, the pace felt really easy, although I was wary of the extra energy that the cheering crowds were giving me. I made another mental note to try and slow it down a bit, at least to something closer to 12:00s than 11:00s, and then we turned onto 4th Avenue.

Words simply cannot describe 4th Avenue. If I thought the crowd support on the streets leading up to that was good, then this can only be described as amazing. Miles and miles of crowds lining both sides of the street. People screaming, kids standing on the side of the course holding their hands out for high-fives, grown-ups clapping and high-fiving the runners. I've never seen anything like it, and the miles just flew by, both figuratively and literally. I was still clocking 11:25-11:30 per mile, and around mile 8, I just gave up. The pace still felt easy enough to be sustainable, even though it was a good 30 seconds per mile faster than I expected. I went with it, promised to not to roll with it if my pace slowed down in the later miles, and figured I was either about to have a really good day, or I was really going to be hating life by mile 20.

As we continued to wind through Brooklyn, I was amazed at how varied and diverse the neighborhoods were. Once we passed through Park Slope and Prospect Heights, we made a few turns and suddenly we were running through parts of town with street signs in just about every language except English. It was also around here that I realized just how far behind the orange and blue runners we were. I hadn't seen any on the course up to this point, but now I was starting to pass some of the slower walkers from the orange group. This bummed me out, since I knew now that I had absolutely no chance of catching up to Mike unless he had one hell of a bad day. Likewise, that explained why I hadn't seen Barb on the course at mile 6, and I knew then that it'd be unlikely for me to catch her at 16.5 She'd probably hang out for a while, assume she missed me and then move on. (Which is exactly what happened.) Oh well. Looks like I was on my own for this one, but I was OK with that.

Just before the bridge into Queens and the halfway point, I took a quick inventory as I stopped for a bathroom break. I felt pretty good, although my legs were starting to get a little hurty. I'd run a good solid first half in 2:37, and I was feeling good about the rest of the race. I stretched as I waited for my turn, then took a deep breath as I headed up the bridge and out of Brooklyn.

Queens

I'll admit, when I came down off the bridge, I was amazed that we were just getting into Queens. I'd looked at the course map, but had somehow failed to notice that the entire first half of the race was in Brooklyn. Here it became obvious that we were pretty far behind the bulk of the pack, since crowd support, while still amazing, had thinned out considerably since those first few ridiculous miles.

We were only in Queens for a few miles, but it was in those few miles that I felt the race turn on me. My legs started to feel sore and crampy, and I was slowing down from the 11:30 pace I'd started out at. That was OK, though. My plan was just to keep trucking along and I'd get to the finish eventually. Everything was fine and dandy until I hit the Queensboro bridge at mile 15. Getting up the bridge was fine. It was slow, my legs were starting to feel tired, and it seemed to take forever, but it was fine. Once I reached the high point of the bridge and started heading down? All of the muscles in my calves and thighs that had been trying to cramp up for the past few miles and were no longer working to pull my ass up the bridge turned to solid, cramping, rock in unison. I couldn't believe how much it hurt, and running it out just wasn't helping since I wasn't engaging those muscles nor was I moving in a way to stretch them out. They should have been nice and relaxed, but they weren't. They hurt. Like a bitch. And the downhill of that bridge was just as long yet infinitely more painful than the uphill. I've never run through pain like that before, and I had tears in my eyes as we wound our way off the bridge and into Manhattan. Shortly before exiting the bridge, we passed a series of signs that made me smile and laugh despite the pain:

"If easier is less than 10 miles to go...."
"...then welcome to easier."

Manhattan

The one good thing about coming off the Queensboro bridge was that it deposited us in a wall of sound. As we wound our way around to 1st Avenue, the streets were once again lined with tons of screaming and clapping people, happy to see us in their neck of the woods. I kept an eye out for Barb even though I wasn't realistically expecting to see her. Unfortunately, the cramping in my legs hadn't really calmed down any after getting off the bridge and back onto flat ground. Once I got through the aid station, I stopped to really stretch my legs out while I sucked down some Gu. I felt a little better and then set out again. My pace had slowed down quite a bit from where it started, but I was still running, and while I was starting to hurt I still felt strong and like I had a ton of energy left.

However, as we made our way north towards the Bronx, the cramping in my legs got to me. I was starting to feel tired. I was hurting. I was wondering what the hell I was doing out there. I was starting to think, did I really need to finish this thing? Couldn't I just go home and take a nap? At mile 18, I stopped at the port-o-lets and was faced with.... well, with a seat I didn't want to sit on. So I hovered. And it was as I was hovering over the Seat That Shall Not Be Discussed, with no problems or pain or shaking, that I realized if my legs had enough strength to keep myself suspended in the port-o-let while I did my thing, then they most certainly had enough strength to run another measly 8 miles. I told myself to stop whining, man up, and just finish this thing. At the next aid station, I stopped at the medical tent to see if they had salt packets because I had to do something about the cramping in my legs, and to my joy and happiness, they did. I grabbed a few plus some extra, washed them down with some water, and kept on running while I waited for it to kick in. A mile after that? Bridge time again.

After the Queensboro bridge I was at the point where I was just done with the damn bridges. It wasn't a particularly big one, but I was tired and cranky so I told myself I was just going to walk up this one. Screw that shit. I wasn't playing their stupid "run over every stinking bridge in town" game anymore. Of course, after walking up it and realizing how small it was, I felt a little ridiculous, but it didn't matter. I'd had my little moment of rebellion and it helped.

The Bronx

As I came down the bridge into the Bronx, all I could think about were pretzels. I'd been searching for pretzels for miles, but no one had any. I'd been living on Gu and Shot Bloks and Gatorade for the past 4 hours, and I was craving something solid that wasn't sweet as I was feeling totally sugared out. I came around the corner and saw a dude with a bag of pretzels on the side of the course. As I made a beeline for him, I realized that the shirt and hat he was wearing looked familiar. By the time I got to him, my brain had put it all together and I yelled out, "Hey, Dr. F!" He let me know he'd seen another member of the running board pass by earlier and that he'd looked good. And then he offered me a beer. I stood there for a few minutes, eating pretzels and drinking beer while he continued to supply pretzels to the other runners passing by. It was just the mental break I needed, and I set off for the last 10K feeling refreshed. The salt packets from mile 19 had kicked in so I no longer had the urge to chop my legs off, and I only had 6.2 miles left to go. 6 miles! This was totally doable. Before I knew it, I was halfway up the last bridge. Since it was a little one and I didn't even realize I was on it until halfway up, I just went ahead and ran over the damn thing. I was pretty sure it was the last bridge since we were heading back into Manhattan, and as far as I knew? There weren't any more major waterways we had to get across. The bridges were finally done. Amen.

Manhattan, Again

The thing about running for hours and hours on end is that you can go from "Woohoo! I feel awesome! Bring it on!" to "Oh dear God please shoot me now" in a matter of seconds. It starts slowly - a twinge here, an ache there - but four steps later everything has locked up again and you are hating life, the universe, and everything. That's what happened to me in Harlem. Coming off the bridge, I was fine. By the time the mile 22 aid station was in sight, I was once again ready to curl up in a little ball on the side of the road. I stopped to stretch my legs out again, and as I was stretching out my hamstrings (always, always stretch your hamstrings before your quads) (also, someone bent over to stretch out their hamstrings apparently looks a lot like someone bent over and ready to lose their lunch, so a lot of people will stop and ask you if you're OK), a woman walking down the street stopped and asked if I was OK. I told her I was, and she asked where we were running to. I told her Central Park. Then she asked where we'd started running from. I told her Staten Island and I could just about see her brain curl up into a little tiny ball as she tried to fit what I'd just said into anything that even remotely resembled here definition of reality. She sort of shook her head and said, "Good luck" as she walked away.

I salted up as I made my way through the next aid station and tried to run, but we were heading up the steady incline of Madison Avenue next to Central Park and I was too tired to keep pushing that hard. So I walked. I walked with purpose, and I moved my butt along like I meant it, but I was walking. I was tired. Everything hurt. I'd been going for close to 5 hours and I was so, so ready to be done. I told myself I'd start running again when I got to mile 23, but when 23 came and went, we were still heading uphill and I was still hurting. So I kept walking. I hated that I was walking, I really, really did, but I knew that as long as I kept moving forward I'd get there eventually. Except eventually wasn't good enough - I'd been hoping for a much better time than I was going to end up with, and here I was, exhausted and sore and walking. What. Ever.

As we turned into Central Park just before mile 24, I told myself I was going to start running. Except I didn't. I jogged a few steps and then decided it hurt too much, and I wasn't ready to be running again yet. Then, as the mile 24 marker came into view, I realized something. I could walk it in to mile 26 and then run in the final .2 miles. I could. Except if I did that, I was looking at another 30-40 minutes of time on my feet. Or, I could take off like a bat out of hell when I hit the mile 24 marker, run the last 2.2 in as fast as I possibly could, and be done a lot faster. Yeah, it was going to hurt like hell, but so would walking, and if I ran I'd be hurting for less time. Clearly, running was the way to go.

I passed the mile marker. I hit up the aid station for one last swig of water and Gatorade. And then I ran. It hurt like hell, but I kept on running. I wanted to lay down and cry, but I kept on running. I cursed the rolling hills of Central Park, but I. kept. running. Nothing was going to stop me. I was weaving in and out of the walkers on the course, cursing them in my head (and probably out loud, too, although I doubt anyone would have understood me) for getting in my way because didn't they realize I was trying to get somewhere? Of course, in their defense, you don't normally have someone barreling along at a sub-10:00/pace 6 hours into a marathon, you know? But I went. I found holes and pockets and wound my way through the crowd, up and down the hills until I found myself making the turn at the southern end of the park.

As I made that turn, my sense of smell was assaulted by one thing and one thing only: horse shit. I was not happy about that. Here I was, running my ass off, trying to catch a breath and keep myself moving forward as fast as I can and all I can smell is horse shit. You have got to be kidding me. Between the smell and the sudden narrowing of the course I was craaaaankyyyy. All I wanted was to be done running and there was horse crap in the air and people in my damn way. AARRRRGH. Then we got to the next turn where there was a big monitor, and people were slowing down and pausing to see themselves on the screen. I didn't want to see it - I knew I looked like ass. I just wanted to keep running so I could be done with this damn thing already. I found my way through the corner and back onto the park path. As I passed the 26 mile marker, I saw a downhill and then, right before the finish, a gentle uphill slope.

An uphill? Right before the damn finish? What the hell? (Except that's the incredibly cleaned up version of what I thought. I was not happy about that uphill.) It was small, but it was there and who were they kidding with that? Were they trying to kill us? Did the universe really hate me that much? I thought all of this as I swore and dragged my ass up that hill, happy to see that it was all downhill from there. I hit the finish mat at a full sprint, not looking at the cameras, not caring what my finish photo looked like, just simply happy to finally be done.

The Finish Chute

As soon as I crossed the finish line and stopped moving, the full realization of how much everything hurt hit me. Every piece of muscle and connective tissue in my legs locked up and the tears I'd been holding back for the past couple of miles burst free. I got my medal and my mylar blanket and just tried to keep moving. Every volunteer I passed asked if I was OK, and I assured them I was. Someone gave me a bottle of water and a bag of food, but all I could think about was getting to my gear check truck, getting my stuff, and getting back to the hotel. I knew I was in baggage truck #72, so I plodded along. After I walked for what felt like forever, I looked up and saw I was next to truck #4. This was going to be a long, ugly trip. I stopped to stretch out my legs, and as I was getting my hamstrings, another runner came up and asked me if I was OK, then told me to stand up straight and keep moving. Apparently bending over to stretch out your legs looks a lot like bending over to lose your lunch. I tried to explain that I felt fine, my stomach was fine, and that I just really needed to stretch, but he was insistent on keeping me moving. So move along I did. He stuck with me for a while, and I found out that he'd flown in from just outside of London for the race and hadn't really been a fan of it, either.

As I kept walking, a sudden and horrible realization came over me: the baggage trucks had been done alphabetically, which meant my stuff was going to be in one of the very last ones. I sat down to stretch while I absorbed this information and mentally renewed my commitment to someday marry up in the alphabet (which, really, wouldn't take much). I called the people I was supposed to meet and let them know I was on my way out, then I continued trudging on. When I got to truck #72 it was, indeed, the very last truck. Of course. Considering I'd been ready to sit down and take a nap as soon as I crossed the finish line, having to walk the extra distance (which had to have been at least a half mile, if not more) was something that could only be described as an unpleasant surprise. But I'd made it, and once I got out of the park (thankfully, the next park exit was just after my truck) I easily met up with everyone.

Getting Back to Jersey

For a number of reasons, I'd elected to stay in Jersey near the Meadowlands complex (where the buses to the start left from) instead of in the city. While it was far cheaper than getting a hotel in Manhattan, it also made the trip home a bit more involved. We hopped on the subway at 86th street, where the MTA attendant at the station was letting marathoners on the train for free. (Thank you, MTA dude!) We then rode the A train all the way down to Wall Street where we transferred to the PATH train at the WTC station. Somewhere during that ride, I realized that I was incredibly well hydrated and needed to get rid of some of that extra water. I figured there'd be a bathroom in the PATH station and I'd just stop in there before hopping the train to Jersey.

Yeah, no such luck. By the time we got off the train in Jersey, we were approaching something of a desperate situation. I thought maybe the station in Jersey would have some sort of facilities, but, again, no such luck. We stopped in the cab dispatchers office to request a cab back to our hotel and, again, no luck. We were looking at a 15-minute wait for a cab and then a 20-minute ride back to the hotel. That was so not going to work. I looked up and down the dark street, hoping to find something that might have some sort of restroom and I spied a gas station down the road. It looked close-ish, and I was pretty sure I could make it there and back within 15 minutes. As I started walking, I realized that while my legs were still sore, they felt a lot better than they had an hour ago. So I made a run for it. I can't even imagine what I must have looked like, sprinting down a dark street in Harrison, NJ with my mylar blanket billowing out behind me like a cape, although I'm guessing it was something along the lines of "crazy person." Of course when I got to the gas station, I realized that gas stations in Jersey? Don't necessarily have a "station" to them. Which meant no bathroom. I cursed the Garden State and then spied a Wendy's across the street, so I made a run for it.

The good thing about jaywalking in the dark while wearing a mylar blanket? Everyone can see you. And they're going to stop for you, because they probably think you're highly unstable and going to run in front of them anyway. It certainly made things easier. I stopped in the Wendy's, took care of things (ahhhh), and then ran back to the station. By the time I got there, the cab was ready to go. Sweeeet.

By the time we got back to the hotel I was feeling a little creaky again, and I'm guessing my 800-yard bathroom dash probably didn't help anything. After cleaning up we headed out to a local diner for dinner (where my medium-rare burger was actually done to medium rare and not at all overcooked - I was impressed) and it was after dinner that I discovered what happened if I sat still for too long: my legs stopped working. It took a lot of upper-body strength to get myself back on my feet, and when we got out to the car? I couldn't lift my foot high enough to step into the car normally, instead needing to sit down first and then get my feet in the car. The car in question? A Civic. Yeah, I was in pretty sad shape.

The Post-Game Analysis

Initially, I was really disappointed in this race. I knew that my training could have been better, and I knew by the 15-mile mark that I'd started out way too fast, but I just wasn't it expecting to hurt as much as it did. I haven't had a race hurt that much since I ran my first marathon two years ago. You'd think I would have made some progress in there. I couldn't even take comfort in the fact that at least I ran this one faster than I ran that one, since I posted pretty much the exact same time for both races (NYC was one second slower than that first one in Detroit).

However, looking back? I'm actually pretty happy with it. Yeah, it hurt. A lot. But I still kept on running through the pain, really only walking 2-3 miles of it towards the end. That first one? I was pretty much walking it in off and on from mile 17. Plus here I was able to grit my teeth and run through the pain for a better finish. That's something that I most definitely couldn't have done two years ago. I think if I'd tried to run this course two years ago it would have chewed me up and spit me out alive. It wouldn't have been pretty, that's for sure. The New York course is tough - it's not especially hilly, but the bridges are killer and there's all sort of long, slow, slight inclines that become total ass-kickers over 26.2 miles. Especially to someone who trains in an area as flat as Chicago is.

The point is, despite the nagging feeling that I could have done better under different circumstances, I feel pretty good about the fact that I ran the best race I could have on that day. Sure, I could have gone out a bit slower, but I had no idea how badly it would come back to bite me by starting out just a wee bit too fast. What it boils down to is this: I'll take the race I ran last weekend, but this is one that I definitely need to go back and do again. I refuse to take that sort of abuse lying down, and someday I'll make it back there and show that course who's boss.

My 5K splits are below - it's obvious that I started out far, far too fast, as my average pace steadily declines until the 35K-40K point where it takes a total nosedive. (You can also tell that I hauled it in over the last couple of miles, as my average pace actually decreases between the 40K mark and the finish. Hee.)

Location/Time/Pace per mile
5 Kilometers/0:34:20/11:03
10 Kilometers/1:09:52/11:14
15 Kilometers/1:48:30/11:38
20 Kilometers/2:26:02/11:45
Half-Marathon/2:37:16/11:59
25 Kilometers/3:07:50/12:05
30 Kilometers/3:51:22/12:24
35 Kilometers/4:34:35/12:37
40 Kilometers/5:23:32/13:01
Finish/5:37:17/12:52
]]> Race Reports Dawn 2007-11-11T10:22:45-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/11/tagged.html Rules:

• Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog
• Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird
• Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs
• Let them know they are TAGGED by leaving a comment on their blog

Karin - a fellow lunatic marathon runner from the UK

Five Random Facts About Me:

1. I am an INFJ. I took two separate Meyers-Briggs inventories, 10 years apart, and they both had the same end result.
2. I was absolutely terrified of down escalators as a child, going so far as to refuse to get on one without holding someone's hand, since I was absolutely convinced I was going to go tumbling down it head-first. I finally got over it when I found myself on a trip to Niagara with the Girl Scouts, and was faced with going down an escalator in a mall there. Since I couldn't exactly ask one of the other girls to hold my hand, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and somehow managed to get on the escalator without killing myself or bursting into tears. I was 11.
3. I have a bizarre knack for remembering schedules, appointments, meetings, etc. Anything that gets marked on a calendar. I've wound up doubling as some sort of administrative assistant for every guy I've ever gone out with, since I usually know when they're supposed to be someplace or do something even if they don't. I may not be able to tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, but I can give you my schedule for the next 6 months off the top of my head without a problem.
4. I've been to Space Camp twice - once during Spring Break in 6th grade, and once over Winter Break my senior year of high school. It still totally kills me that I'm too short to be a pilot (the height requirement is 5'4"... I'm 5'3"), even though I now realize I'm probably horribly suited to it given my complete inability to visualize things in 3 dimensions.
5. The longest I've gone without moving since graduating from college is 18 months. Yes, I've been moving every year (on average) for the past 6 1/2 years. Yes, I'm really good at it now, and, yes, the thought of ever moving again makes me want to dig my eyes out with a spoon. I claim that I'm going to stay in my current apartment until I'm ready to buy something, but I also know that the odds of that actually happening are probably pretty slim.

Leah, Barb, Susan, Catherine, Rachel]]> Deep Thoughts Dawn 2007-11-10T11:46:57-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/11/nyc_done.html Not my best race (and I won't lie, I'm a bit disappointed in my time), but given the tough course and my somewhat inconsistent training, I'll take it. Two days later, I'm still a little sore and developing a whole new appreciation for my building. However, the race itself was awesome and I highly recommend it to everyone.

Full report to come soon.]]> NYC 2007 Dawn 2007-11-06T09:07:32-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/10/this_weeks_impo.html I got lucky and had perfect weather - 60, overcast, and with a wee slight drizzle. Not enough to totally soak me and make me miserable, but just enough to keep things nice and cool. I was a fan. I felt good. I was going to knock this sucker out of the park.

And I did! Things started to get really hurty around miles 13 and 14, so when I got to 15, I stopped and took a few minutes to really stretch out my legs while I refueled. After that, I felt almost as good as new. I'd taken those first 15 miles really easy, so I still had plenty of gas in the tank. I was pleasantly surprised, and decided to pick up the pace for the trip home. Why not? It was only 5 miles. I could totally do that.

So I did, and about a mile into it, my calves started cramping up like nobody's business. It hurt. I was not a fan. But I kept going, drinking the last of my Gatorade as I went. Then the headache came, which surprised me. It was that dull achy sort of headache that normally tells you you're dehydrated. Except there was no way I was that dehydrated. The water fountains were still on, and I'd been drinking a ton of water in addition to my Gatorade. Heck, I'd even stopped to pee at my turnaround point! Then, the brain started working: headache, cramping.... I was low on salt.

I was amazed. I mean, it was only 60 degrees outside! How could I be in need of salt, outside of what I was getting from the Gatorade and Gu? Yet somehow I was. And did I have a sugar-free salt source with me? Of course I didn't. I took one of my extra Gus around mile 17.5, and while it helped a little bit, I needed more than what I was getting. Plus, my stomach was starting to protest all of the extra sugar that was coming its way in my attempt to get some salt into my system. Craaaaaap. Oh well - I had 2.5 miles to go, I wasn't dead yet, and I still had enough gas in the tank to haul ass home, so I did. I was now running on the principle of "the faster I go, the sooner I get done."

My average pace for the last 4 miles of my run? 10:25. Can you say "hauling ass"? Yeah, it hurt, but I was at that point where it would have hurt more to stop and walk than it did to just keep on pushing it. So push it I did, both wanting nothing more than to be home where I could load up on sodium and dreading the end of my run, knowing that as soon as I stopped moving every piece of connective tissue in my legs was going to lock up simultaneously. Which they did, and HOLY MOTHER OF CHRIST did that hurt.

I got home. I chugged down a glass of salt water. I stretched as much as I could, hoping it would make my legs feel better. However, when it came right down to it? It hurrrrt. A lot. I've never really had a major cramping problem before yesterday, and let me tell you that I was NOT a fan. I whined. I stretched. I whined some more as I hauled my sorry self into the shower. Once I was clean, I chugged down another 16 ounces of Gatorade, but I was still feeling incredibly hurty. So I went to bed and took a nap.

When I woke up a half-hour later, I was feeling much better. My legs were no longer achy and crampy, and actually felt pretty good. Heck, they still feel pretty good today. I'm shocked, but pleasantly so. I might not be quite as out of shape as I think I am.

So, important lesson for the week: if the length of your run is better measured in "hours" rather than "minutes", make sure you take salt with you. Even if it's 20 degrees outside. You may not need it, but this most definitely falls under the category of "better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it." Trust me on this one.]]> NYC 2007 Dawn 2007-10-15T06:42:55-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/10/my_brief_unoffi.html regular ol' blog)

A number of people have asked about this, so rather than send out another 47 e-mails over the next few days, I'll just update everyone this way.

First, the important thing: I'm OK, and everyone I knew that was running on Sunday is OK. Some people finished (although about an hour slower than normal), some people got stuck on the rerouted/shortened course when they closed the race down, and some people pulled themselves from the race when they realized they weren't going to make their goal time and it wasn't worth it to them to suffer through the heat.

I wasn't officially running on Sunday - I didn't register for Chicago since my big race is going to be the New York Marathon next month. However, I had to run 18 miles anyway this weekend, so I offered to pace my friend, Barb, that would be running about the same pace that I do my training runs at. We ultimately worked out a plan that had me meeting her husband at mile 8 (which was right near my apartment), running with him through mile 18, then dropping him off there and waiting for Barb and running with her from 18 to the finish. I'd get my miles in, they'd have some company, everyone goes home happy.

On Saturday, I slept in and headed out for a quick 3.5 mile run around 10:30 or so. It was HOT. And humid. And assy. When I got home, I immediately sent an e-mail to Barb that said something like, "HOLY SHIT IT'S HOT OUT THERE, MAKE SURE YOU GUYS CARRY EXTRA WATER BECAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE." I did manage to refrain from adding, "Dude, this is EXACTLY like the weather we had in Madison last year and OH MY GOD DID THAT SUCK." After all, this was the day before the marathon. I was supposed to be supportive. Saying, "DUDE YOU GUYS ARE SOOOO FUCKED" is not exactly supportive. So I kept that to myself, but I was reallllly second-guessing my offer to run with them. Sure, I was glad that I wasn't going to have to get up at 4 a.m. to get my run in before it got hot, but, ugh, it was going to be hoooot. There was much whining, but I knew that if it was going to be that bad out there, they were going to need the moral support, and I wasn't going to leave them hanging.

Sunday morning I got up, ate, and loaded myself up for a long, hot, day. I had a bottle of Gatorade, a bottle of water, and money to buy more (since I hadn't paid to be in the race, I wasn't going to use any of the aid stations). I also had gels, a package of Clif Bloks, and some Nuun. The only thing I was missing were my soy sauce shooters - those little packets of soy sauce you get with take out Chinese. (A pace leader at Madison recommended them for extra salt during the race, and they're absolutely brilliant. For me, it's easier to get down liquid than to crunch on the salt in a salt packet. Yes, it tastes nasty, but it gets the job done and you just wash it down with a bunch of water. I love 'em.) (Yes, marathoners are crazy.) However, I figured I'd be OK since I had the Nuun, which is a sugar-free electrolyte supplement. Note for next time: I need the salt, especially in that sort of heat.

Once I was packed and ready to go, I headed down to the course to watch the wheelchair and elite athletes come through. My plan was to watch and cheer until Mike came by, then I'd jump in with him. I saw some people that looked really good, and a lot of people that already looked awful. I high-fived runners, I clapped, I yelled out the names of those that had them on their shirts... and I was sweating by 10 a.m., just from standing there. When the 4:30 pace group rolled on through, I started looking for Mike, but I didn't see him. I kept watching, and shortly after the 5:30 pace group came by I got a text from him saying he'd missed me. D'oh. I knew Barb's plan was to run with the 5:45 pace group, so I looked for her as they came through. I didn't see her with them, and since she wouldn't be looking for me that early in the course, I hopped in and started making my way to mile 18.

It was HOT. And it sucked. The good thing about carrying two bottles of water was I had to keep one in my hand, since my fuel belt/fanny pack only holds on bottle. With one bottle in my hand, I drank much more regularly than when I'm not holding on to it. I started with Gatorade and then switched to water when I started feeling a little over-sugared. I could tell when we were passing aid stations, because all of a sudden the ground would be absolutely carpeted with empty cups - I've never seen anything like it. The spectators were definitely out in full force, though. I saw a couple in front of a Walgreen's with a couple cases of bottled water handing it out to runners. There was a guy with a bag of ice, and once we turned off Clark Street onto residential side streets people had hoses and sprinklers out and were hosing runners down. About three miles into my run (near mile 11), we passed by an el station and I had the brief thought of just taking the train down to mile 18, because it was hot and awful. However, I had to get my miles in. Besides, if everyone else could run 26 miles in this heat, I could surely battle through 15-18.

By the time I hit mile 12, I noticed that the aid stations were out of Gatorade. They still had some water, but volunteers were either out of cups or couldn't get it into cups fast enough, so they were pouring it directly out of the jugs into water bottles or directly on the runners. It was a mess. I was already out of water, so I stopped in the next CVS to get more. They had 20 oz bottles on sale, so I grabbed two, even though it meant that I would have to carry a bottle in each hand (I hate carrying things while I run, partly because I tend to forget I'm holding on to something and drop it). I was glad I did, because I would go through all of it, and while there are plenty of convenience stores on the route in the first half of the race, there are very few places to stop and buy provisions on the second half of the course.

Somewhere along here I made the decision to cut my run down to 15 miles from 18. I'd run to mile 15 of the course, then cut directly south to 18 rather than going all the way around. Not only would I get a break on the distance, but it would give me some time to rest and rehydrate before I met up with Barb, since I wasn't sure how far behind me she was. As I got to mile 15, a volunteer was walking down the course shouting, "The marathon is over! You can walk!" The split clock at the mile marker read 3:41.

I texted Barb to find out where she was, and kept heading towards 18, just in case. I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by "it's over," so I just kept on going with the plan. After running for a couple of hours, I'm not exactly a nimble thinker. Just as I was getting to the mile 18 marker, Barb called to let me know that they were officially closing the course down, and they were all being rerouted straight down Jackson to the park. She wouldn't be making it to mile 18. Having had a similar experience last year, I knew how much it sucked, and I told her I was sorry. I tried to think if it would be worthwhile to backtrack and find her, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to do so in the crowd. Plus, I was right by an el station, so I headed on home. I'm sort of wishing I'd gone back and found her, but I was hot, sweaty, and tired. And right by the el station.

When I got home, I couldn't believe how tired I was, and I'd only run 8 miles. I felt like a damn wuss, that was for sure. I sucked down as much water and Gatorade as I could, along with a 99-cent bag of sour cream & cheddar potato chips (mmm.... salt....). I felt much better after a nap and met up with everyone for drinks and dinner. The consensus was pretty much universal and was along the lines of "That totally blew, and we never ever have to do it again." I felt bad for the first-time marathoners who had their debut race cut short. There's nothing like crossing that finish line for the first time, and they got robbed. That said, I totally agree with the decision to close the race early - runners were dropping like flies, the race organization couldn't get water and gatorade to them, and ambulance sirens were going off all over the place. It was scary, that's for sure.

Anyone who got out there and ran on Sunday has my full respect. It was an awful day to be out there, yet everyone toughed it out and made it work the best they could. Barb's account of the day is here, and she's planning to get her revenge in a 50K race at the end of the month. Her husband? Is running in New York. As we were telling each other on Sunday night, "It can't possibly be this hot in New York in November. It just can't."

Today? It was 57 degrees when I left for work, and that's about as warm as it's going to get over the next 3 or 4 days. Fall is back in Chicago, just 48 hours too late.]]> NYC 2007 Dawn 2007-10-09T08:16:30-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/10/ouuuuch.html That is a mile and a half, y'all. And 1200 yards of that was speedwork. Which came after about 1000 yards of various pull drills (Right arm only! Left arm only! Both arms only! Swim!)

My shoulders started protesting with about 600 yards to go. But I just had short little sprints and a cool-down left, so I pushed through, 50 yards at a time.

On one hand, I'm all pumped that I made it to the end and hit all the splits where they needed to be and such. On the other? Damn am I tired. And my shoulders are done. Toast. There will be no reaching for the items on the high shelves at home for a few days, my friends.]]> The Two-Year Plan Dawn 2007-10-02T12:20:48-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/bucktown_5k_sur.html way better than your typical t-shirt. This year? A zip-up hoodie and technical hat. Not a bad deal for $30 and 3 miles of running. I figured I'd just ease my way through the course and treat it like a nice stroll through the park. The entire course was on tree-lined residential streets, so it'd be a perfectly enjoyable way to get my run in. Even if it was probably going to be my slowest 5K ever.

Since I wasn't "racing" this, per se, I didn't really do any sort of pre-race prep for it. I had pizza and pop for dinner last night. I stayed up later than I should have given the early wake-up call. And for breakfast this morning? Cold pizza. Not exactly the pre-race meal of champions.

But then I got to the race, and between the chip on my shoe, the number on my shirt, and the thousands of other people, I began to think, "Maybe we'll just go out and see how we feel. Run it easy for a 5K. Maybe." That soon turned into, "Well, I'll run a pretty good effort, but I won't kill myself, and if I get stuck in a slow spot of the crowd, I'll just go with it instead of weaving all over the street to get around it."

I seeded myself at the back of the start corral, and when I crossed the start line I took off at a respectable pace. Not slow and easy, but something i could hold for 3 miles without killing myself. I was passing people steadily, but I wasn't weaving all over the street to do it. When I hit the first mile marker in 9:58, wheels started turning. If I picked up the pace just a wee little bit, I could finish in under 30 minutes. Hmmmm. Considering how slow I've been feeling all summer (since I haven't been doing short races or speedwork), being able to get under the half-hour mark would be a huge confidence booster. My legs felt OK, so I decided to pick it up just a wee little smidge and go for it. I quickly found that if I stuck to the right side, I could get around most of the pack. I was still steadily passing people, and it felt great. When I hit the 2 mile mark in 19:28, I knew that as long as I held my current pace I'd come in under half an hour. So, naturally, I picked it up a bit. As I got ahead of more people, the open spots in the crowd got bigger. I was now weaving my way all over the place to get into free space, and I was running pretty hard. Not all out, but pretty hard. The pizza in my gut was starting to talk back a little bit, but I knew that with less than a mile to go, I'd be just fine. Keep pushing, keep building the speed, but stay relaxed. Just go. Gogogogo.

When I crossed the line, my watch read 29:15 and I couldn't believe it. The day after a long run, with no intention to run fast, and I was only a minute and a half off my PR? A PR that I set when I was doing tons of speed work and feeling super speedy and probably tapered for a few days before the race? I will totally take that.

Now, a lot of people I know don't like to run this race because it's so crowded. And.... it is. 3000 people over 3 miles on residential streets? Unless you're out in front, it's packed. However, I didn't think it was any worse than the Shamrock Shuffle, a race that I keep running despite the crowds, so that didn't bother me too much. I never got fully and completely stuck behind slower people - I could always find a way around, although it did involve some creative cutting and weaving.

That said, I don't think I'll come back to run this race, and here's why: When I get done running a race, be it a 5K or a marathon, the one thing I want right away is water. Most races I've run have had bottles of water either in the finishing chute or with the post-race refreshments. This one? Had one table with cups of water at the entrance to the park where the post-race festivities were. No bottles anywhere to be found. Nothing in the finishing chute. And the post-race refreshments, while plentiful and tasty, included absolutely nothing to drink. I couldn't believe it. I should not have to wait in line and fight a crowd after a race for a cup of water. If you're a big enough race to take in 3,000 runners, then you're a big enough race to get someone to donate a couple thousand cases of bottled water.

Except for that one little hiccup, the race was great. The course was fun- enough turns to keep it interesting, not so many as to really slow you down. Chip and packet pickup was a little weird (you picked up your number and goody bag before the race, but picked up your chip the morning of. Huh?), but it's a system that seems to work for them. Once they find a way to get some (more) water at the finish, they'll have a great fall race going.

Splits: 9:58, 9:30, 8:56, :51 (.1)
Unofficial total: 29:15]]> Race Reports Dawn 2007-09-30T12:32:04-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/looking_ahead.html I also told her about something that, right now, I can only refer to as my Two-Year Plan. If you look at what I'm doing next year, I'm sure you can figure it out. However, I'm not quite ready to say it out loud just yet, mostly because while I'm excited about it, a sizable part of me still thinks it's Completely Fucking Insane. If you had told me two years ago that I would even be pondering this, much less considering it seriously? Especially seriously enough to start building a long-term training plan around it? I would have asked you if you were high.

Now I'm just asking myself if I'm high.]]> Training Dawn 2007-09-28T07:34:14-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/the_price_of_la.html Wrong.

The excuses started early. I was at my parents' house in Michigan and hadn't packed for 55-degree weather, which is what we had early in the morning. (Lesson learned: check the predicted LOWS as well as the highs.) I'd also forgotten my Garmin, so I'd be running totally watchless and HR-monitorless. I figured I could probably pace myself reasonably well, but I wasn't sure if I had the guts to try and find out. I thought about just toughing it out. I thought about waiting until later in the day. Then I decided that in addition to not wanting to spend the first hour of my run freezing and going out too fast, I also didn't want to run for that long and then sit in a car for 5 hours while I drove back to Chicago. So my solution would be to leave Michigan early, drive back to Chicago, and then do my long run in the evening.

Except once I got home, I felt tired. However, I'd gotten home earlier than expected, so I had time for a nap. I took one. When I woke up I was still feeling tired, unmotivated, and on top of it all I was also feeling hungry and dehydrated. I decided to skip the run, and instead had some dinner and a bunch of water.

This was all fine - I got some work done, I sort of watched a football game - until the time when it was Definitely Too Late to start running. Then I felt antsy. Twitchy. Like I really should have gone for the run instead of sitting on my butt all day. On top of that, I didn't sleep well once I got to bed. Clearly my body had the energy stored up to run and now it had nowhere to go.

Lesson for the future: Do your long runs in the morning, no matter what. Also, when going out of town, pack for more types of weather than you think you'll need to.]]> NYC 2007 Dawn 2007-09-24T12:19:11-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/educational.html It's not just because they think it looks cool. It's because a bug in your eye at 20 MPH hurts like a bitch.]]> Deep Thoughts Dawn 2007-09-18T12:10:05-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/the_doubleedged.html Anyhow, in checking today's weather last night, I discovered the high was 60. Immediately I made the decision that I was not going to get up early for today's long run. If 60 was as warm as it was going to get, then there was no need to get up at 5 so I could be out the door by 7. None whatsoever. Ahhhhh.

Around 7 I figured I'd get up for breakfast, and by the time I'd digested and actually gotten out the door it was just before 10. However, the weather was absolutely perfect, the run was good (with the exception of the total hissyfit my Forerunner threw, but, eh, whatever), and I felt incredibly well-rested. There was a down side, though: by the time I got home, stretched and showered, it was after 1. PM. My plans for the day? Were totally shot.

My original plan for the afternoon was to geocache my way up to a local apple festival where I would then purchase a variety of taste appley treats. And, sure, I could have done that if I ran out the door as soon as I got dressed, but that held absolutely no appeal for me, not to mention I had a couple hours worth of work I had to get done before doing anything. Maybe it's just me, but after a long run I need to relax, rehydrate, and just generally hang out and be lazy. If I have somewhere I absolutely have to be, I can do that, but otherwise? An hour or two of slug-time is greatly preferred.

So, instead, I'm hanging out watching the Michigan game and hoping it'll be a lot better than the past couple have. Geocaching has been postponed until tomorrow (when it's supposed to be equally nice, just a bit warmer), but the apple fest, which is today only, will just have to go. Sure, it runs until 5, so technically I could leave now and catch the end of it, but with that sort of thing going right before closing just means you have limited choices and run the risk of some vendors closing up early if they sell out. There's always next year (or taking a field trip out to an orchard) for super-fresh appley goodness.

I will say this, though - next week? I'll be up early, regardless of how cool it is. While there's something empowering about knowing that you've gotten a few hours of running in before 10 a.m., there's something mildly depressing about getting back from a run at 1 p.m. and realizing that half your day is shot, and all you've done is run. I'll happily take the earlier wake-up call.]]> NYC 2007 Dawn 2007-09-15T14:16:25-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/dwd_2007_the_hi.html Dances With Dirt. This year, it would prove to be far more of an adventure than it was last time. Heck, just getting to the race was an adventure: the team I'd originally signed up with pulled out after losing (and being unable to replace) 2 or our 5 members, and the team I joined up with after that had all sorts of personnel problems. Just as we'd get a full team, someone would have to drop out. The Thursday morning before the race, we had a full roster. By Thursday night? Our 5th member lost his babysitter for the day and we were back down to 4. Of course. We held out hope against hope that a runner would magically fall from the sky to refill our team, but Saturday morning found us rearranging legs, trying to find an order that evened out the mileage as much as possible and gave everyone time to rest between legs. Instead of running just under 13 miles for the day, I'd be running a tad over 17. Bring. It. ON.

I was runner #2, so when our first runner came speeding in at the end of her leg I took off. The leg was called "Buttkicker" and is one of the hilliest legs on the course. They were not kidding. A complete lack of any sort of speedwork or hill training this year has left me completely out of shape for this sort of thing, and by the end of the 5.3 miles my butt was on strike, my quads were shot, and I was exhausted. I knew then that a) I might have gone out a little too aggressively and should have started walking the big hills earlier and b) it was going to be a long day.

My next leg, "This Sucks", involves a trip through a swamp and features a "Runner Wash" at the end. I needed it, because I was covered from the waist down in thick, black mud. For about a mile we trudged through mud that threatened to suck off your shoes (helpful hint: stay to the sides!) and crossed waist-deep creeks that required 2 or 3 people to pull you up on to the other bank. Luckily, everyone goes through this chunk of the leg at about the same pace, regardless of how fast they run, so I was in a crowd of about 6-8 people. After the shallow creek crossing each person helped the one behind them out of the mud, and at the end of the deeper crossing, two guys stationed themselves on the bank to yank people out, aided by a guy standing in the creek who was boosting people out. I don't even want to know how far down he sunk into the dirt once we all made our way out, because the ground he was standing on was anything but solid. It definitely takes a special kind of lunatic to enjoy this sort of thing, and I loved it. I mean, when do you get to have that much fun getting dirty and playing in the mud as a grownup?

Those shoes? Went straight to the trash. As did the socks. We are praying for the shorts.

By this point, I was realizing the challenge of running a race like this with only four people. It's not the extra mileage that gets you, it's the reduced recovery time. Even with 5 runners, by the end of the day you're getting that "I have to run again? Already?" feeling. With 4? I got done with my second leg, and it felt like I was heading out for legs 3 & 4 just five minutes later. I was beat, but, hey! I was almost done! I was running two legs back to back, but the second one was only 1.4 miles, so I was looking at it as a single 6-mile leg. It'd be my longest leg of the day, but I could do it. As I trudged off into the woods for the last time, I told myself, "6 miles to freedom!"

Except I just could not get moving. I was exhausted. I was on nice trail, but it was a never-ending gradual uphill. Plus, I really had to pee. Finally, I got to a spot where I was alone and could duck into the trees to take care of that last detail, and I couldn't believe how much better I felt. It was like I had a second wind! I hit the trail as hard as I could, but within 5 minutes I'd hit the swamp. Again. So much for my second wind.

The name of this leg was "Where's The F'n Bridge," and when I got to the big open river crossing, I thought that was what they meant. I waded through the nice clean river, ignored the guy on the boat that told me to watch out for the snake (although based on the scream from the girl behind me, he may not have been kidding about that. Whatever. If I didn't see it? It didn't exist), then skipped through a little bit of swampy mud and said to myself, "Why, that wasn't bad! Heck, after This Sucks, that was a lovely walk in the park!"

The phrase you are looking for is "Famous Last Words." We got back into the woods, and it was all swamp muck, all the time. So much for making up time with my second wind. Then we got to a creek crossing that had ropes across it, tied to trees at either end of the bank. I vaguely remembered the race organizers mentioning something about ropes and to please be using them during the pre-race announcements, and as I was pondering that, I saw the guy ahead of me step into the creek and wind up in mud and muck up to his waist. Clearly, they weren't kidding about the ropes. I grabbed on to the rope and jumped in. It wasn't too bad - I could reach the bottom, but it was nice to have the rope there for balance and to aid the forward motion, and I used it to pull myself out on the other side. Right on. Ropes. Not messing around. Moving on.

Then I came to crossing #2, again with ropes. The guy ahead of me recommended staying to the left, so I grabbed on to the left rope, jumped in, and was suddenly very glad I was hanging on to the rope. My feet were sort of touching something that felt like the bottom, but if I'd tried to stand in it the water would have been over my head. This was not water that you wanted to have over your head, I'll tell you that much. It was certainly the most fragrant swamp of the day, as "ass" was all I could smell as I pulled myself across the rope and up the other side. Everything from my armpits down was coated in a thick layer of swamp goo. Awesome. By the time we got to the third creek crossing (which was thankfully shallow enough to not require ropes), all I could think was, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, another fucking crossing?"

I may have been a little tired, and perhaps a smidge overmucked. Thankfully, I eventually made it out of the swamp and, after a little over an hour in the woods, I could see freedom and the end of the leg. I knew I had another mile and a half to go, but I was really hoping someone else on my team could take it since the thought of doing any more running with a half-inch of swamp dirt in my shoes was less than appealing. At the exchange point, one of my teammates was there and asked me if I wanted her to take the leg. On one hand, I did. On the other, I didn't want to make her run any more than she had to, since we were all busting our respective asses to cover the course with only 4 runners. I told her that if I stopped running now, I was done for the day. If that meant I ran the next leg? So be it. However, she told me that she was fine and that I could stop there if I wanted. I sent her off and then went and sat in the lake. I have never been so happy to see (relatively) clean and clear water in my life. Nor has lake water ever looked so clean and clear.

After my dip in the lake, I headed up to the team truck to change into clean and dry clothes. As I stripped off my shorts, I realized that I had mud in places people should never have mud. Ewwwww. There would certainly be some quality shower time as soon as I got back to the hotel.

At the end of the day, we finished the 60+ mile course in 11:43:45 - not bad for a team of four women. Our adjusted time (taking age/gender handicaps into account) was 9:59:57 - good enough for 247th place (out of about 370 teams).

It was still a fun race this year, but we were all just beat at the end of it. After talking to some of the other people that ran the F'n Bridge leg, I realized that I would have enjoyed it a lot more if I wasn't so tired, and if I hadn't already taken one trip through the swamp. (Another reason not to run both F'n Bridge and This Sucks: if you have sensitive skin, your legs will be angry with you for taking them through the nasty swamp water two separate times, and will demonstrate their anger by feeling burny and itchy for days afterwards.) On the plus side, my state of total exhaustion meant that I headed to bed fairly early in the post-race party, which meant no hangover on Sunday. Bonus! (Alas, I did miss a lot of fun, but perhaps next year I'll hit the happy medium.)

I will say this, though: despite the fact that I was totally untrained for the terrain and ran myself into the ground, it was still an awesome time. Highly, highly recommended.]]> Race Reports Dawn 2007-09-11T13:33:48-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/09/yankz.html

A couple of weeks ago while I was swimming at the lake with my tri group, the head coach asked me if I'd tried Yankz! no-tie shoelaces. She told me I should check them out, and I made a mental note to keep an eye out for them the next time I found myself in a running/multisport store. Fast forward to the tri expo last weekend when I found myself face to face with a pair of them that perfectly matched my running shoes. I was buying a few other things so I went ahead and picked them up.

I didn't get around to putting them on my shoes until the other night, and I'll admit it: I had my doubts. I tend to wear my shoes tied pretty tight to add extra support to my overly pronatey ankles, and I wasn't sure they'd be able to stay tight enough for me. It took me a few tries to lace them up right - the instructions tell you to leave a loop at the top and not to lace your shoes tight, and when I did it that way I wound up with some really loosey-goosey shoes that were not going to work. So I redid it my way - no loop at the top, and I laced them up like regular shoelaces (i.e., a little on the tight side). Once I had one shoe all done, I tried it on and I was amazed. The elastic was stretchy enough that I could get my foot in the shoe easily, but strong enough that the shoe felt tight and secure on my foot. Encouraged, I laced up shoe #2 and then waited for my next chance to test them out.

The test run happened this morning on my long run. I was mildly concerned that they wouldn't stay tight for the entire 2.5 hours, but I figured I could either deal with it or head home to relace with the regular laces. (Had I really been thinking, I would have taken the regular laces with me, but I wasn't so much on top of things this morning.) To my amazement, they stayed tight and secure the entire way. Color me impressed. Not only will these rock for triathlons, but I'll never have to worry about shoelace loops flopping all about ever again! (I switched to Saucony shoes a few months ago, and those things have freaking miles of shoelaces on them. It's mind-boggling.)

You can buy Yankz! from their web site for $7.50/pair and they come in 50 colors, with black or white clips. I paid $7.75/pair for mine at the Urban Tri Gear booth at the expo.]]> Cool Stuff Dawn 2007-09-01T17:30:30-06:00 http://www.breakingthetape.com/run-dawnie-run/archives/2007/08/to_nike_or_not.html Well, through a series of events, I have a chance to get a Nano and Nike+ system at little or no cost to myself. However, I'm wondering if it'll be worth it - what sayeth the existing Nike+ users out there? Some things to consider:

1. I don't normally run with music, although I do occasionally. My biggest objection to it before (outside of safety/awareness) was the heavy bouncing of my iPod. However, now that I've got the Shuffle, that's not an issue.
2. I already have a GPS watch that tells me how far I've run
3. Do I really need to have a regular iPod, a Nano, and a Shuffle? That just seems excessive, you know?

In other news, I had an hour-long tempo run last night, and I totally ran the 10K that I wanted to run on Sunday. On one hand - drat. On the other - well, at least I had a good run. (Although it would have been better if the last 3 miles hadn't been directly into the wind. Alas.)]]> Deep Thoughts Dawn 2007-08-31T12:47:27-06:00