It's all fun and games until the tornado sirens go off.

I went on a 17 mile long run this morning.  I thought my pace and splits were pretty good overall, and I am satisfied with the run (even if my calves and knees are not satisfied with me at the moment).

However, the weather during this run can only be described as "completely craptastic."

The weather was grey and rainy when I woke up this morning.  Being a total running pro, I opted to check the weather using a highly technical process of "looking out the window at the current weather and assuming that's the way it would stay for the rest of the day."

That was a dangerous misstep on my part.

I got to my usual trail to do my long run, thinking that the day would stay grey and slightly rainy.  At least that's what I thought until it started pouring at the start of mile 4.

"Just a little rain," I thought.  "No big deal.  It should lighten up in a few minutes."

And it did lighten up to the north of me.

But to the south....

I kept heading east, hoping to dry out somewhat by the time I reached my 8.5 mile turnaround point.  I was at the very end of mile 4 when the tornado sirens went off.  I ran for about a minute, listening to the sirens and wondering what the hell I should do, looking at the sky for crazy cloud rotations as I felt the wind pick up and start blowing me around like a twig.  And then my brain screamed, "CALL YOUR HUSBAND, DUMBASS."

So I did.  And asked him if there was a tornado in my running vicinity.  He said no, and that the sirens were probably just severe weather sirens.  Placated, I got off the phone because it was pouring and continued on my way to my turnaround.

After it stopped pouring, I got out my phone to take this picture of the nicer weather behind me:

And that's when I noticed these little alerts I missed on my phone:

I also saw my husband had left me two voicemails since then, so I called him back while still continuing to run.  He told me to come home.  I told him I was only 1.5 miles from the turnaround, and it looked like it was clearing behind me anyway.  And then he screamed into the phone, "ARE YOU RUNNING WHILE YOU'RE TALKING TO ME?!?  STOP RUNNING AND COME HOME!"

It's hard to explain to a hysterical husband that you are 7 miles away from your car and that "coming home" will require that you run for at least another hour even if you turned around right that second.  The only thing that shot him back into the realm of reason was telling him my only fast option of coming home was to go and hitch a ride with a complete stranger driving down nearby Route 173 who would take pity on a poor runner girl who was soaked to the bone and had a running shirt on that was now slightly see-through because of the rain. 

Even though I reassured him that I would be OK, I pretty much freaked out for the next 5 miles or so, whipping my head around to be completely aware of when the eventual funnel cloud would be bearing down on me.  Expired tornado warnings be damned; a girl has to be prepared.  This is also why I was scouting out potential spots in the ditches that were relatively puddle-free for hiding places if I did spot a funnel cloud.

During that time it had stopped raining, and I was beginning to dry out and feel better.  I was about 3 miles away from my car when the second storm hit--and it was worse than before.  Much worse.  Sideways rain and heavy winds were pelting me from my right.

And then the hail came.  I was forced to run with my head cocked downward and toward the right so my hat would catch the hail, preventing it from poking my eyeballs out (which would make it very hard to run).  While I was busy protecting my eyesight, the hail kept slamming me in that nice soft skin between your thumb and first finger of each hand.

It was out to get me.  But I wouldn't give up.  I gritted my teeth and kept pushing on, thinking that if I could get through this, I could get through anything (including some crazy work stuff that's going on right now).  I also thought that if I could get through this without my iPod electrocuting me, I would be doing pretty damn well too.

I did make it, and was greeted to this sight as I finished my run:

The water was up to my calves, and my feet and shoes were thoroughly soaked--there was no way not to wade through that mess.  I finally made it to my car, where fortunately I had some towels in the back to dry off a little before heading home and hobbling my way into the house.

This, by far, is my most interesting and inclement weather-frought run.  But, like I said before--if I could get through that, I can get through anything.  But next time I'm going to check the weather at an official weather-type site before heading out.

(By the way, my husband has said I am no longer allowed to run after tornado sirens go off.  You'd think it was dangerous or something.)

Today's running forecast: Buh.

Check out today's running outfit awesomeness:

Neon yellow sweatshirt, grey running tights with neon orange stripes on the thighs (can't see those), navy blue running socks, and bright orangey-pink running shoes.  I sure know how to throw together a running outfit that isn't at all easy on the eyes.  But I guess that's the point when you want cars to NOT hit you.  Now if only putting together an obnoxious running outfit would keep dogs from chasing you....

Besides my inability to choose an acceptably matching running outfit, it's also the time of year where I don't really know how to dress for a run.  I will probably will be too warm when the 15 mph winds are at my back, and too cold when I'm running into them.  It's 40 degrees outside, the wind is howling, the day is grey, and even though I have an easy 6 to do today, it just looks like I'm going to wish I were done the entire time.

Time to suck it up, buttercup, and get it done so I can get back home and work the rest of the day.

Advanced half marathon running craziness. And new shoes.

Been running off a lot of work frustrations in these shoes rightcheer:

Brooks PureFlow, they are, and I love the color and I love how they feel.  Lightweight yet with enough cushion to satisfy my feetsies.  Very impressed; other shoes in Brooks' Pure line have simply hurt my arch with their weird arch support thing they have going on.  But these PureFlows...I think we have a permanent connection here.

I ran in these for two of my three running workouts this week.  This advanced half-marathon training plan is kind of kicking my ass all over the place.  Crazy intervals of 400, 1200, then 3200 (!?!?), and then repeat that goodness all over again. With warm-up and cool down that was almost a 9 mile workout.  The next day I had to do a 5 mile tempo run, meaning a speed work day after a speed work day.  Then a 6 mile easy run.

With all this advanced running craziness, I'm surprised this isn't somewhere on the schedule:

"Die from running too much.  Resurrect yourself; Run 4 x 1 mile repeats.  Go forth and work miracles the rest of the day."

Only 2 more weeks.  We'll see how much only 5 weeks of training after a 3-week marathon recovery will do for me on this half marathon.

Goodbye, Green.

Hello, snow.  Goodbye, green.  At least it was nice for my 12 miler yesterday.  I guess the face-freezing sideways-snow blowing days are upon us.

I will tolerate all of the brown.  But I will never accept it.  Circle of life be damned.

Good thing it was a "rest" day today.  I did a Cathe high step circuit DVD that was awesome because it used the barbell.  It was not so awesome because you had to do 32 leg presses at the start of each circuit.  There were 5 circuits. I'll let you do the math.

DAMMIT, CATHE, HOW MANY LEG PRESSES DOES A WOMAN NEED?

Well, I guess this woman needs a lot.  I have to lose 20 pounds.  I got on the scale and had another meltdown this morning, the end result of stress-eating Halloween candy for 2 weeks.  Here we go...time to get lighter, stronger...and faster.

Today's Long Run Recap

I haven't blogged here in a bit.  I think I finally got a handle on my new job so that won't be all-consuming of my time, so I have decided to post more often here, even if it's just a picture with a smarmy caption.

Cue picture:

There won't be a smarmy caption this time.  However, there will be a step-by-step rundown of the key events that occurred on this run, using a magical system called "the numbers below correspond to the numbers on the map above."

1. Around a mile into the run.  I want to stop because I ran 6 miles in 70 minutes the day before on the treadmill in minimalist shoes, and I can feel my right ankle protesting.  But I speed up because two dogs start chasing my ass down the road.

2. Reveling in the joy that is running head-on into cold winds.  Thinking about how much fun it will be to train through the winter again for my next marathon.  Trying not to cry.

3. First encounter with scary pit bull.  This dog doesn't jump over the fence, mainly because there are three strips of barbed wire across the top of it. It's the same dog that escaped one time and almost got me.

4. Encountered another dog, one that I call "carpet dog" because once, when I rode by on my bike, I thought someone had left a big pile of old white shag carpet out in the middle of their yard.  Until it moved and started barking.  Decided to turn around and head back early because I didn't want to find out if the walking carpet also had jaws of steel.

5. To make up some mileage, I headed down a side road that was surprisingly paved.  Nature called along this road, and I answered that call behind a bush with no leaves.  At the exact moment I hung up on the call, a car drove by and spotted me.  Damn-my first sighting.

6. Second encounter with scary pit bull.  This time, as I rounded the corner, he shoved his head and one shoulder through the chicken wire-esque fence as I scampered southward.  SCARY.

7. After doing some math, realized I was going to come up short in my mileage if I didn't do something.  Decided to suck it up and run westward into the wind one last time for the sake of making up a mile.

8. Realized my mental math capabilities totally and completely suck, because after some quick recalculations I now figured I would have about an extra quarter of a mile to run after I hit my target 12 mile mark.  Decided to take a sort of shortcut so I wouldn't have to run past my house and then come back (which is sheer agony, I tell you, to do at the end of a long run).

Even though it was cold, the sun was out, and it was a very nice fall morning.  I better enjoy them while they last-before the face-freezing sideways-snowing running days are upon me.

Twin Cities Marathon 2013: If you don't hurt, you're not getting your money's worth.

Goofing before the marathon.

I have to stop being upset about my finish time for yesterday's Twin Cities Marathon.  4:19:54 official time; 4:15:55 my watch's official time.

I wanted a 4:10.  But I guess I didn't want it bad enough.

Let's do a little review of the miles, shall we?

Thoughts during miles 1-13:

"Yeah!  Alright!  I can do this!  I am so maintaining a 9:30 pace!  I know I said I would start at 9:44, but I am feeling awesome right now!"

Thoughts during miles 14-18:

"OK, not feeling so awesome.  But I can still do it.  I may not hit a 4:10, but a 4:15 would still be doable.  My quads are really starting to feel like blocks of wood, but I've felt this way before.  I can stick it out."

Mile 18.6 or so.

Thoughts during miles 19-21:

"My God I can't feel my quads.  Still busting out a 9:30 pace.  I'm really freaking tired.  I have to pee.  I'll use that port-a-john.  No line-BONUS!  God, it feels good just to sit down.  But gotta keep moving...."

Thoughts during miles 22-26.2:

"AIEEEEEEEEE."  (It's at this point I got sharp stitches in my back right below my rib cage on either side, as if someone were stabbing me with a knife.  It got hard to breathe and I had to stop and walk several times. It's when I stopped to walk that my left foot decided to keep trying to charlie horse on me.)  "Alright, you can run for a little bit before the pain starts again.  Push push push AIEEEEEEEE."


The last 5 miles were pretty much miserable for me.  What made it more miserable was that a lady got in my face when I was walking off a back cramp and told me to "dig deep."  You can imagine my response.

At least I crossed the finish line feeling as if I had nothing left to give.  No more gas in the tank.  It was all I could do to run the last half mile towards the finish.  And when I crossed the line, my legs seized, hurting so bad that I was whimpering slightly as I wound my way through the finishing medals, fruit, photo opportunities, and finisher shirts. The only comfortable position I could find was squatting oh-so-ladylike near the ground, which I did at my earliest convenience by a wall near the State Capitol (St. Paul) lawn.  So there I was, squatting near a wall, keening every now and then like a madwoman.

But, like Frank Shorter says, everyone hurts after a marathon.  "And if you don't hurt, you aren't getting your money's worth."

But I finished.

And my time, while decent for me, isn't what I wanted.  I feel I should have, could have done better. I have been replaying what I did wrong over and over again since I crossed that finish line, and here's what I have come up with:

• Not enough quad strength work.  I focused on upper body tons and did a lot of stuff for calves and hammies, but neglected my quads for the most part.
• My tempos weren't long enough.  6 mile tempos aren't cutting it for teaching me endurance at my race pace. I think I need to do some longer (10-12 mile) tempos at race pace for more specificity in my training.
• I skipped a few long runs.  I could tell.  Next time that will not happen.  Less racing on weekends and more training.
• I was sick all this week-and my lungs weren't 100%.  I was still coughing up multi-colored crap the night before the race.  I think the back-stabbing pains were from breathing heavier and taxing those muscles.  It must have been that or someone had busted out a voodoo doll of me without my knowledge.
• I mentally collapsed at mile 21, knowing that I had a 3 mile uphill ahead of me.  I was tired and freaked out.  Next time more sucking it up and keep on keepin' on.
• I should have stuck to the plan and raced the first half at 9:44 and then sped up to a 9:30 for the second half.  The excitement and adrenaline and the crowds got me all worked up into a "starting too fast" frenzy.  Total rookie mistake.

I just feel shitty that I had to walk.  But I should focus on the positives:

• My official time is 15 minutes better than my first marathon.  If you look at my watch time, it's almost 20 minutes better.  That alone should have me jumping for joy.  If I could jump right now; my quads are a tad sore today.
• I finished.  I didn't give up.  The thought of quitting never crossed my mind.  (The thought of how the hell I was going to make it for 5 more miles did, however.)
• I busted out a freaking awesome nearly 9:30 pace for nearly 21 miles.  Twenty-one miles.  I have never run that far that fast ever in my life. 
• This was only my second marathon.  I must remember it took me 4 half-marathons before I broke the 2 hour mark.

That 4:10 finish is in my sights.  I've signed up for the Glass City Marathon in Toledo again at the end of April, 2014.  It shall be mine.

How to get sick and get well 6 days before your marathon.

I have a marathon in two days (!).  So, of course, I managed to get a sinus infection six days before it.  I am freaking awesome that way.

Here's how to get sick before your marathon:  Race every weekend before it, running an obscene amount of miles.  Also run 20 miles one day and race a 15K the next, forcing yourself to don full-length compression sleeves afterwards.  Then clean your entire house, getting a big whiff of cleaning chemicals and making your sinuses vulnerable to infection.

Here's how to get better in 6 days:

Monday: Wake up feeling like someone took a bristle brush to the inside of your sinuses.  Scream "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" as loud as you can when you get up.  Go cycling in the pitch dark, and then sinus rinse when you get done.  Sinus rinse again before you go to bed.  Don't take any meds because you want your body to handle it.  Find a back-up marathon to run in case you can't run on Sunday.  Cry yourself to sleep.

Tuesday: Wake up with creeping congestion in your sinuses.  Sinus rinse in the morning and before bed.  Take ibuprofen to combat the mounting pressure in your face.  Complain profusely about the fact that you are sick to anyone who will listen.

Wednesday: Congestion hits you full-force.  Sinus rinse in the morning, afternoon, and night even though the package clearly states not to do that when your sinuses are blocked.  Take ibuprofen during the day so you can't feel the pressure in your face rising so much that your teeth feel like they will pop out of the top of your head.  Get called into a 2-hour meeting when your congestion is at its worst and get questions rapid-fired at you.  Seriously consider not running your marathon, actually going so far as to almost cancelling your hotel reservations.  Complain again to anyone who will listen.  Break down and take NyQuil just so you can sleep.

Thursday: Wake up to find your congestion has magically disappeared.  Wonder suspiciously where it went. Sinus rinse in the morning and at night.  Break down and take some DayQuil during the day.  Realize that you may just be able to run your marathon.  Go home and pack.

Friday: Sinus rinse just because you're in the habit of doing it now.  Get up and realize you have parti-colored stuff coming out of openings in your face-and that this is a good thing.  Write a blog post about your sick experiences this week.  Realize that you will definitely be able to run your marathon, although you may have to spit, hack, and blow your nose for 26.2 miles.

 Now that this whole sickness thing is out of the way, I can focus on my marathon goals.My ideal goal is to run this thing in around 4:10.  If I cross the finish line anywhere near that number I will break down and cry immediately afterwards.  On the flip side, if something happens during the race (i.e., spitting and coughing slow me down), I will be happy with a 4:20.  If things go horribly awry (there is a hill that spans 3 entire miles at the end of the course!), then I will settle for crossing the finish line in an upright position.  Other goals I have include: running the entire thing, not having to stop at a port-a-john, and not having to poop at any time during the race.

Oh, and having fun.  And being able to smile whilst in mile 26 at what I have just accomplished.

Crystal Lake Half Marathon Recap: For the fun of it.

Well, I did it for fun, but also as a marathon-pace practice race.  I do think it sad that I sign up for a half marathon these days without batting an eye.  When I was a newer runner, I used to agonize over every longer-distance race, wondering if I had it in me to finish within a decent time.

Now I'm all like, "Half marathon?  When?  I'm in."  Sick.  Sick and wrong, I know.

I ran this half marathon last year.  I was actually training for another half at the time, but got what's known as "sick" with the sinus infection from Hades and ended up not running it.  This is not because I am a wimp; when you spend the night before a race with a fever and a head that feels like a block of wood and wake up surrounded by more used tissues than bed sheets, I would think you would tend to come down on the side of "I would not like this to develop into pneumonia if I run" rather than "I will (literally) suck it up and run even if it means I will spend the next 3 months in the hospital."

So, rather than run sick and get sicker, I decided to bag that race and sign up for the Crystal Lake Half Marathon two weeks later.  I still wasn't totally well by then (that's how bad this infection was), but I managed a 1:57.  Not my best time, but a steep hill at mile 9 got me and then I ended up doing a run/walk for the final miles of the race.  I was disappointed, but glad I snuck in under 2 hours.

This year, since I am training for a marathon, I decided to use this race as a marathon-race pace race (say that 3 times fast) so I could get a feel for running my projected pace for 13 miles.  I knew that my marathon pace (9:30) would put my time for the half at over 2 hours, but that was alright.  I must keep reminding myself that the goal is to get to my marathon starting line uninjured and well-rested.

Plus, it was kind of nice to run a half and not bust a gut the whole time.

The weather was almost perfect-cool (in the 60s) and cloudy, with the sun staying away for the entire race.  The only thing that sucked was the humidity; at the start of the race it was actually misty/rainy.  I was drenched by mile 4, with my shirt sticking to my gut uncomfortably thereafter.

This guy was stretching in front of my car.  Grey skies everywhere.

Drenched by the end.  Shirt is stuck to my ginormous gut.

Since this was a training run, technically, let's review what I learned about my training at this point (4 weeks from my marathon), shall we?

• I have a tendency to speed up.  I caught myself many times running in the 8:30s.  I had to continually force myself to slow the freak down so I could practice my marathon pace.
• Pacing people is a great way to force yourself to slow the freak down.  Then, after you've gotten in some "rest" behind them, pass them. 
• I passed 5 guys wearing Ragnar Chicago shirts.  This gave me all sorts of warm fuzzy feelings inside.  I counted them as "kills."
• I maintained a pretty even average pace for 10 miles (around 9:15). Good to know I can be consistent.
• This race was a great way to practice my hill strategy.  Twin Cites is going to be hilly, and this race had a few good-sized hills up in there.  I had to focus on slowing down and picking up my feet (along with keeping my feet under me and not overstriding).
• I wore my Brooks Glycerin 11s to see how they would feel for 13 miles.  I think these will be my marathon shoes.
• Only in mile 12 did I start to get winded, but that's because I was trying to book it at an 8:30 straight into 12 mph winds.  I saw someone I knew at that point that was walking, and stopped to chit-chat for a bit.  That reset my lungs and I was able to finish strong.  But still....all that speed work is paying off.  I think I can maintain between a 9:30 and 9:45 for this marathon coming up.
• I wanted to quit and walk several times after mile 10.  But my trick is to think about how tired my legs really are--if, after I do a mental check, realize that they are not all that tired, I find that I can push on.
• I still assume everyone is better than me.  While waiting at the starting line, I kept looking at people and thinking, "They're going to beat me."  I am glad to report that I passed around 70% of those people, mostly in the final miles.

So, how did I do overall?  Check it out:

2:02.  Not bad; not bad at all for someone who was actually trying to run slower than that.  I was expecting between 2:00 and 2:05, so this is dead on for me.  I know that a 9:20 pace is actually faster than I should have run, but at least now I know that I can run at least half of that marathon near my projected pace.

I guess this race wasn't just for training--it was also to give me a little confidence in the pace I have chosen, which it did.  I'll see if it that confidence remains four weeks from now when I'm standing in my starting corral at Twin Cities trying not to ball up on the ground and go fetal.

Garmin, Charge Thyself.

Workouts:

Monday: More barbell time.
Tuesday: 5 mile easy run
Wednesday: Track ladder workout (speed work)
Thursday: 12 mile bike ride in the dark

After my 22 mile run Saturday, my legs were a bit tired.  Not just right after the run, but until...oh....Tuesday.  That track ladder workout was on tap for Tuesday, but after the first 400m interval, I knew my legs wouldn't be able to climb up and down the rest of that ladder.  My quads felt like tight little balls of...quad muscle that didn't want to contract in any running sort of way nope nope nope.

So I bagged the workout.  Having already done a mile in the warm-up, I ran 4 more miles easy, and my legs felt much better the next day; they were ready for some track ladder up-and-down climbing.  While the quads were still a bit sluggish, I managed a pretty decent workout overall:

Yes, yes, I know-I walk my recoveries.  Don't judge me.

I did this workout at around 7:15 PM, so what else is a girl in marathon training to do but get up and cross-train at 5:20 A.M.?  I went for a short but very nice bike ride in the dark while testing out my new bike headlight.  It works pretty well (a Blackburn brand), and it managed to startle a group of deer along my route.  I don't know if you know this, but when a group of deer gets all freaked out, it's a free-for-all of deer afterwards.  Deer were running every which way; I think if they could have defied gravity they also would have run straight into the sky. Or at least into a parallel universe and back.  The looks on their faces were all crazy-wild; it looked like my dog does when she is freaked out by a sound she does not recognize:

But the one thing that pissed me off about all of my workouts this week was this:  I could not remember to charge my Garmin.  It's like the neural pathway containing that memory had been obliterated each night while I slept.  Here's how every morning went this week that I needed my Garmin:

1. Get ready for run or bike ride.
2. Put on watch.
3. Turn on watch and hear the angry BEEEEEP that indicates battery is dead.
4. Swear profusely and scare the dogs.
5. Put Garmin on charger.
6. Hope that 15 minutes on the charger will give me enough juice for my workout.
7. Get enough charge to do the workout.
8. Take off Garmin after workout and forget to put it on charger.
9. Repeat steps #1-8 the next morning.

My only hope at this point is they invent wireless electricity so the watch will charge just by absorbing charged particles found in the air.  Or just put my Garmin on the charger after each and every run and not set it down on the desk facing away from me so that I forget that it is on.

Anyhoo, tomorrow is a tempo run, and then a half marathon this weekend as a pseudo-training run.  Let's hope my quads are fully rested and the Garmin is fully charged for those running events.

Sometimes long runs suck. But you learn a lot.

Yesterday I ran a 22 mile long run.  It's the first true long run I have done in 2 weeks, having done a Ragnar two weekends ago and a duathlon last weekend.

My quads are telling me loud and clear today that they are NOT HAPPY.  Not happy at all.  But I'm sure they'll get over it in 2-3 days.

I actually got up early for that run and got my butt out to my favorite long-run trail (the Long Prairie Trail) by 8 A.M.  The day before had been in the upper 90s temperature-wise, and yesterday was much cooler--it was around 70 degrees when I started, and the sky was cloudy, blocking out any additional heat from the sun.  Even if there had been sun, this trail has tons of shade along the way.  In fact, the first 6 miles or so is all under a big tree canopy that looks like this:

I started off the run heading to the east, planning on going 11 miles out to the trail head in Capron and then coming back.  Those first 11 miles were pretty awesome-there was a slight breeze cooling me off, and the majority of the run was slightly downhill.  As I neared the trail head, I did have to get creative when I encountered some downed trees on the trail from the thunderstorms we had the day before:

Had to use my obstacle course skills to get around this one.

Right after this I encountered some cyclists that had passed me about three times already on the trail.  They stopped and asked me how many miles I was doing, and when I told them 22, I thought they were both going to fall off their bikes.  They wished me luck, and then cycled away from me as fast as possible.  I don't blame, them, really--when I stopped to talk to them I got a good whiff of my stinky running self at that point. I would have run away from myself if it were possible within the known laws of our universe.

Eventually I made it to the trail head, and I was feeling pretty awesome.  Legs were feeling good, and I felt like I could run forever.  I felt even awesomer when I realized I would be able to use a real bathroom located there rather than have to duck and cover in the woods along the trail for once.

Better than going in the woods.

I realized at this point that I was about half a mile shy of 11 miles, but decided to make it up by running past my car a bit when I got to the end of my run.  I started back on the trail (scampering over the downed trees a second time), feeling good and excited to be at the halfway point.  Apparently I was so excited that my legs decided to speed up on me, and I started busting out some close to 10-minute miles (my goal pace for each mile was supposed to be around 10:30).

Yeah.  This became a problem in mile 14.  My increased speed plus the fact that it was getting hotter (and now the wind was at my back) really started to take a toll on me, and I was in full blown wall-hitting mental whining by mile 15.  So I made a deal with myself-make it to Poplar Grove (3 miles away) and I would stop and get some cold water at the small convenience store there.

Those were 3 miles of mental torture.  I tried to force myself to slow down, but my legs were having none of it.  But I didn't stop.  I made it to that convenience store and to some cold refreshing water (I do wear a Camelbak on my runs, but after 3 hours the water gets a tad warm).  I tried to make my stop as brief as possible, lingering only to refill my Camelbak. I took off from Poplar Grove, knowing that I "only" had 4 more miles until I got to my car.

And I thought the 3 miles to get to Poplar Grove were tough.  These last 4 miles were pure mental hell.

It was all I could do to keep moving.  This time I actually did slow down (finally), but my legs felt heavy.  I was hot.  A sharp pain had developed in my left side.  My Camelbak was heavy again with water.  The route this time was mostly uphill. My running skirt was soaked with sweat and felt like a lead apron around my waist.  Any minor annoyance that I normally would have brushed aside became magnified in my mind to a major crisis.

But I kept going.    And finally I saw my car.  Too bad that, when I got there, I still had half a mile to go before I reached the 22-mile mark.  So what did I do?  Run back and forth near my car until I did that half mile.  I could have turned around and gone back down the trail the way I came, but at that point I desperately NEEDED to be near my car.  Turning around and running away from it would have probably caused a mental implosion of epic proportions.  So, I endured weird looks from cyclists and finished up the run by scampering back and forth in the parking lot near my car.

When I was done, I just needed to walk for a bit.  After walking around the parking lot a few times while having my recovery shake, I stopped and stretched out a bit by my car.  As I worked out my calves (which were screaming, by the way), I noticed that my skirt was sweating, leaving drops on the ground.

It was my skirt, I swears.

If you think that picture is bad, you should have seen the ground after I wrung out a corner of my skirt.  Ugh.

Apparently I was so soaked that the hubbs insisted on taking a picture of my sweaty self after I returned home:

You can't see it but I am drenched.  Also, while I didn't think I was dressed too crazily for a long run, apparently some cyclists thought my outfit was pretty entertaining and were openly mocking me as I ran.  From their comments, it seems my colors were a tad too bright for them, and the calf sleeves were a little over the top.  People, people, people--can't we all just get along and wear what we want to wear while torturing ourselves with exercise?

Despite this run having sucked the big one for the last 8 miles, I think that these types of runs teach you a LOT.  They teach you that you really should eat more than a bowl of oatmeal before going on a 22-mile run.  They teach you that you should have parked AT the trail head so you could have a downhill run after you turn around into the cool gentle breeze rather than park further down the trail.  They teach you that you will wear whatever you damn well please on a run and let the cyclists in their monochrome black outfits be the ones who are committing an exercise fashion faux pas.  They teach you to put on more deodorant before you leave so you won't gross yourself out with your own stink.

But, more importantly, they teach you how to get tough and finish what you started.  No matter what happened out there on that trail, the important thing is that I got through the rough stuff and finished the run.

The hubbs' dental surgery is way more interesting than my workout today.

This morning's workout was 30 minutes of upper-body weight work along with 10 minutes of abs.  I have diligently been doing core 2 times a week in an effort to strengthen a weak left rectus abdominus that makes running a bit unpleasant at times, especially since it is in the lower lower abdomen, if you catch my drift.

It was an uneventful workout.  What was eventful was the fact that I did it this workout at 4 A.M. This is because I had to get my husband to his oral surgery appointment by 6:50 A.M. so I could be at work on time.  Then I had to leave work by 8:30 to go pick him up and take him home and keep an eye on him all day.

When I got there he was groggy and couldn't speak very well due to all of the bloody gauze in his mouth.  He looked sad, and wouldn't let me take any pictures of him because he was afraid I would post them on Facebook.  And he would have been right.  So, because I don't have any pictures of him, I took the liberty of sketching what he did look like when I saw him:

When we got home, he had to put this crazy ice pack on his face that went under his chin and fastened via velcro on the top of his head.  It had pockets along the sides to put in separate ice packs against each cheek.  Again, he wouldn't let me take pictures, so I drew what he looked like:

I know.  It looks like a bra is wrapped around his face.  That's what it looked like in real life, too. 

But enough talk about bras on people's faces.  Let's talk about this long run I have to do tomorrow.  I have 22 miles to do, and I plan on heading up to a trail I have never run before to do it.  It will be my longest training run to date, and while I will be suffering, it will give me a needed mental boost when I am in the final miles of my marathon.  Going to have to get up early to avoid the heat. 

And speaking of this heat...remember before my last marathon when I expected the weather to warm up and it never did because Mother Nature is a cold and heartless you-know-whatitch?  I am afraid now that the weather won't cool down enough by October for me to have a pleasant 2nd marathon experience.  I think taper madness is hitting me a bit early with all sorts of irrational fears.

If this is what I'm going through now, my actual taper should be FABULOUS.  I think I'll tell my husband to move out during those two weeks to retain his sanity.  And that way I can draw more pictures of him with all my free time.

Another tempo run survived.

My workout today was my dreaded 6 mile tempo run.  I forced myself out the door to do it, stepping into the very foggy darkness with my trusty head lamp, butt light, and reflective vest.

My first thought was all sciencey in nature: "Crap.  It's foggy.  That means the relative humidity is near 100%." (See how I snuck in both biology (crap) and meteorology (relative humidity) in there?)

My second thought was not sciencey at all: "Crap.  This also means I'm going to get drenched."

And drenched I was.  Even my eyelashes were clogging up with precipitation.  But I wasn't going to let that distract me from finishing my hated tempo run.  I was going to run all 6 miles at my target pace if it killed me.

Well, it didn't kill me, but I did manage those 6 miles at an average pace of 8:51.  I kept reminding myself how glad I would be in mile 22 of my marathon that I stuck it out and did all these tempos.  Reminding myself of this kept my mind off the fact that I am absolutely terrified of getting hit by a car while running in the dark.  Add some thick soupy fog like there was this morning and I have full-blown panic attacks at the mere glimmer of oncoming headlights.  I'm all like "Do they see me?  They don't see me.  Do they see my blinking lights and reflective vest?  Maybe?  Probably not." whenever I see a car, and then I scamper far into the ditches on the side of the road when they pass me.  I think I'm going to break my ankle in the ditch before a car hits me.

The other thing I kept reminding myself about was how drenched I was becoming.  At one point I looked down and thought I had peed myself without my knowledge.  But no--it was just all sorts of sweat forming a nice spot on the front of my awesome purple running skirt:

In fact, I was a true running vision in purple this morning:

Now if only I could blog smells.  You'd really get a sense of how hard I worked to run all 6 miles of that tempo run.  Anyhoo, despite the darkness and the fog, it was a pretty good run. Mentally it was a huge victory for me; I think I am developing a thick mental skin (finally).  Let's hope it stays thickened up for the 22-mile run on tap for Saturday morning.

Midweek Workout Wrap-Up

Workouts:

Monday - Cathe's Muscle Endurance with my oh-so-awesome barbell, baby.
Tuesday - 8 x 800m repeats at supposedly 10K pace but really at my mile pace
Wednesday: 15 mile bike ride

I decided on Monday to recover from my duathlon by pumping some iron and leaving my legs alone.  I busted out my barbell for a nice workout that involved a lot of bicep curls using that baby.  Those same bicep curls came back to haunt me the next day, as it hurt to straighten my arms at any point in time.  It's amazing the difference a barbell makes--I was actually lifting less weight that I normally do on the barbell, but holding that bar must work the muscles differently for me to start feeling it so soon afterwards.

Not being able to extend my arms without pain did make for a rough start to Tuesday's workout, when I stepped outside at 4:45 A.M. to run some 800 m repeats and was promptly engulfed by heat and humidity.  I shrugged it off and began my warmup, and ran the first repeat into the wind, which actually wasn't that bad.

It was when I turned around and began to run those repeats with the wind at my back that I ran into some trouble.

At the start of the 5th repeat I was tired.  I was dripping so much sweat off my body I'm sure I could have been classified by a meteorologist as a "rain event" on a weather map.  I began the repeat, but about 10 seconds in I stopped running.  The heat and humidity had gotten to me.  I considered walking back to the house, but then I stopped and stared straight ahead in the direction I had been running.

I thought to myself, "You've done this before.  You can do it again.  Just make it to 6 repeats and we'll see."

I made it to 6.  And then 7.  And finally got to 8 (running back into the wind for that last one...the cooling effect was nice, but it did slow me down a bit).  Funny, I never even thought about quitting or the heat after that slight pause to get my mental act together and suck it up.

This morning was a little better heat-wise, although the humidity was still clinging to everything in sight.  Luckily I had a bike ride planned for this AM, so I scampered downstairs into my bike shoes and helmet, grabbed my bike, and then headed out the door.

And then I went back inside because I had no reflective gear/lights on.  It's dark at 5 A.M. now, peeps.  How depressing.

I threw on my reflective vest and grabbed a flashing red light to slap on the back of the bike.  I strapped on my reflective ankle straps, and then began to fight with my headlamp.  I tried to strap the thing on below my helmet, but it looked and felt weird, like it would slip down onto my face at any time.  Plus, my batteries were dying and I didn't have time to scrounge up new ones--I had to get out the door so I could work out and get to my job (the place that pays me so I can buy all my fancy schmancy gear) early.

I shuffled through my running gear basket, looking for something-anything-that would work better than duct-taping a flashlight to my handlebars.  And I found my knucklelights.

These are some bright brighty-bright lights that go around your knuckles (duh).  They work quite awesomely for running if you don't mind having to clasp something in both hands the entire time.  On the bike...not so awesome, but they solved my problem temporarily.  I clasped one in my left hand, leaving my right hand free to actually hit the brakes and shift gears.  It was an OK fix-and it would have been better if the light hadn't gone off every time I hit a bump.  I had to keep smacking it to get it to come back on.  You can probably tell by now that I did not cycle as fast as I normally did for the first part of the ride.  I couldn't wait for the sun to come up so I could toss the knucklelight in back pocket of my cycling jersey and steer with both hands again.

I think I should just invest in some of these.  Only $500 a wheel:

Or maybe haul my ass to Target and pick up a $20 light for the front of my bike.

Minneapolis Duathlon: Feeding my duathlon monkey

I am really getting to like these duathlon things.  The state of this like is seriously beginning to approach my love of bulleted lists.  You know it's freaking serious then.

Anyway, I just completed my third one, the Minneapolis Duathlon, touted as the "World's Largest Duathlon." I was convinced by a Ragnar buddy of mine who also is addicted to duathlons to do it, and I am totally glad I came up to experience the joy that is this fitness event.  In my usual futile attempt to keep the handful of readers I have, I will summarize this awesome experience into a small series of salient bullet points in a totally inappropriate PowerPoint-esque manner:

• It was hot.  Really hot.  We left at 4:30 A.M to drive to downtown Minneapolis, and we were rudely assaulted by the heat and humidity after we stepped outside the door.  But we weren't going to let that stop us-we had 3.1 miles and then 15.9 miles and then 3.1 miles of duathlon goodness awaiting us.
• After getting all our numbers affixed on ourselves and our bikes, we set up our transition areas and then headed off to a local coffee shop so I could grab a bagel.  We then expressed our displeasure at getting up so damn early:

• This really is a big duathlon.  It seemed that the runner-cyclists were springing forth from the very earth in the transition area and scattering bikes, sports drinks, bike shoes, and energy gels amongst the many rows of bike racks.

• The first run was hot.  Hot hot hot.  I broke down by the water station in mile 2 and walked through it. This run was also long-3.4 instead of 3.1, according to my Garmin.  But you did get to run through the downtown area and over the river; it was a nice course.
• I was extremely glad to get on the bike after that hot run.  There were some serious winds, however, coming in the very direction in which we started biking, so that made it a bit challenging.  On the turn-around, however, I took off and started flying in the last 7.5 miles or so.  Well, whenever people who were going slower than me weren't riding side-by-side and blocking the route.  
• The bike route had more people on bikes than I have ever experienced.  It was a little nerve-wracking for me to ride around so many people on bikes; at first, all I could do was start calculating the probabilities that I would smack into one of them and cause an accident.  After about mile 6 or so I calmed down and chose someone to "race" with.  I have a habit of picking a person at the start of races with whom I am privately competing.  I'll have you know that I won my little race during the bike ride, even if we kept passing each other over and over again in the last 7 miles.  I outpaced her on the last hill right before we got back to the transition area.  Ha!  Take that, person who didn't even know I totally took you down in my own private race with you!  Yeah!
• My transition time totally sucked the big one.  I had the hubbs switch out my clip pedals with my regular pedals for this race so I would have a better transition time (due to not changing shoes).  Little did I know that I would have to pee like nobody's business after my first run and would end up waiting in line for the port-a-john, making my total transition time 3:39.  All that planning just so my bladder could ruin it all. 
• And speaking of those pedals, I hate them.  Give me my clip pedals and bike shoes any day.  I could totally feel the inefficiency of those old clunky pedals--specifically, I felt it in my calves as they were starting to cramp by mile 13. The way my feet were working on the pedals felt very different to me, as if I had to work to keep my foot on the pedal.  Very unnatural and painful towards the end of the ride.
• The second run was called off due to the heat, so I got my finisher medal as soon as I hopped off my bike.  Disappointing, to say the least.  But at least I got in a nice run and a pretty awesome ride before getting my hopes dashed to the ground.  (OK, it wasn't that bad.  But I was sad that I didn't finish.)
• This race had some pretty sweet and copious swag: (plus $5 bike jerseys at the expo!)

And some pretty good company:

And that company includes the cat-dog Lily:

Like I said, I am really getting to like these duathlon things.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go find another one to satisfy the duathlon monkey that's now kicking and screaming on my back.

Ragnar Great River 2013: My Ultra Learnings

As you can probably tell from the title, I ran another Ragnar this weekend.  I have always wanted to do the Great River edition of Ragnar, simply because it is relatively close to my house and it is a Ragnar.

But I never really expected to do it as a part of an ultra team.

If you don't know how a Ragnar ultra team works, here's the low-down in a numbered list because numbered lists are the shiznitz: (Bulleted lists are better, but I'm doing this through the Blogger app on my iPad right now, which doesn't allow me to do that.  Jerks.)

1. You have 6 runners instead of 12

2. You all ride in one van

3. You run 6 times instead of three

4. You have to be asked to do this right after you have run a regular 12-person Ragnar because you are still on a high from that and will say yes to anything involving the word "Ragnar."

I wanted to give you the low down of all six of my runs in this post, but I would also like to keep the 5 or fewer readers I already have.  Therefore, I will boldly use the numbered-list blogging technique twice in one post and just share with you my ultra-good learnings from my ultra Ragnar experience:

1. An equation: (6 runners + 6 runs each) = THE STENCH THAT CANNOT BE QUANTIFIED.

2. Another equation: THE STENCH THAT CANNOT BE QUANTIFIED + 6 dirty running outfits + 2 days in plastic bags = ONE STENCH TO RULE THEM ALL.  The hubbs accidentally wandered into the laundry room when I had all 6 stinky running outfits jammed into the confined space of the washing machine tumbler.  He left that room a changed man, and not for the better.

3. After the 4th run, your legs are no longer speaking to you.  During the 6th run, if you listen carefully, you can hear some talk of secession from your body.

4. You can do more than you think you can.  The 5th and 6th runs are purely mental.  You do what you can to make it to the next exchange.  My 5th run trick was convincing myself that 6 miles really wasn't that far.  My 6th run trick was actually walking for a minute and then running half a mile, and then repeating that over and over again.

5. "You should have pooped when you had the chance."  Wiser words were never spoken at a Ragnar.  Let's just say the last 4 miles of my 6th run were spent literally sucking it up from an opening other than my mouth. 

6. Ultra runners are a calm bunch.  No drama, no whining.  Everyone got out there and got it done.

7. As one of my teammates (Heidi) pointed out, on an ultra team you get to see the entire course. 

8. Maximize your nonrunning time with rest.  Everyone ran as two different runners, so you really had to use your time wisely between runs.  There were about 3-4 hours of rest in-between each run, so you had to make sure to get some shut-eye.  We determined that you could stay awake for at least one runner after you, but after that you slept until it was almost your turn again.  This is why I only have pictures of my teammate Mike (the runner after me) instead of everyone this time.

9. You can take an entire shower in a sink if you want to.  Well, you pretty much have to because there  is NO time to take advantage of any showers offered at exchanges-your ass (and your van) must get to each exchange pronto.  

10. The green ultra bib garners instant respect and Ragnar street cred.

As you can see, I learned a lot, and had a blast. I met and ran with some fantastic people, and I would do an ultra again in a heartbeat (maybe not Great River...my quads are speaking to me now, but they are screaming at me about all those hills).  

At least I have my shiny medal to comfort me.  It even says "ultra runner" on the thingie that helps hang it on your neck:

And a bonus: I got my double medal for doing Chicago & Great River in the same year.

It's making for quite the medal collection.  

Too bad I won't be able to get any more until next summer. Can't wait for Ragnar Chicago to roll around so I can get my relay run on.

My fastest 20 miles yet: One bloody long run.

Workouts:

Monday: 12 mile bike ride
Tuesday: 8 x 800 at 10K pace in the AM; 3 mile easy run on the PM
Wednesday: 15 mile bike ride
Thursday: 6 mile tempo run at HM pace
Friday: Cathe's SuperCuts DVD that left me with glutes and core of soreness.
Saturday: 20 mile long run

I haven't blogged in a while.  My work has suddenly gotten all sorts of crazy, this being our week before school starts, and I have basically spent most of my time in meetings and at back-to-school nights.  This has left very little time for blogging, unfortunately, but I am seeking to remedy that today.

Tuesday's speed work was rough.  Like I've said before, I'm not used to doing eight 800s; six used to be my maximum.  The real workout began in the 5th repeat, and I had to push to finish the workout-but finish I did.  The same thing happened on the tempo run I did on Thursday-by mile 3 I was feeling the burn, but I soldiered onward, making it to the end and happy it was freaking over.

It was a rough week, generally, as far as my workouts went, with a lot of mental pushing and shoving.  So, instead of taking it easy like I should have on Friday and doing upper-body only, I did a workout that caused my glutes to start burning by mid-day.

This did not bode well for the 20 mile run I had to do the next day.

I was supposed to do that 20 miler last weekend.  However, after doing the Rugged Maniac mud obstacle run last Saturday, my ankles were screaming and crying and weeping, so I just didn't have the heart to make them run 20 miles all banged up.  So I skipped it last weekend and decided to do those 20 miles this weekend.

So, after much obligatory farting around, I got dressed in an orange shirt, running shorts, my orange Ragnar compression socks, and my bright blue Glycerin 11s.  (If I'm going for a long run, people are going to get an blast of color in the eyes from me, dammit.)  I drove down to my usual trail and got started at about 1 P.M.  By this point in the day it was hot (around 79 degrees) but it wasn't humid, and there was a nice breeze.  Thankfully large portions of the trail were shaded by trees, so that made for some nice running.

I really wasn't enthused about the run, though.  I kept glancing at my watch, just wanting it to be over.  My legs seemed to be going too fast, speeding up even though I willed them to slow down.  The heat was getting to me after running through a section of the trail that was unshaded, and I was looking forward to the 10-mile turnaround so I could finally be heading back towards my car. Just before that turnaround happened, I developed an itch underneath my right nostril.  As I reached up to scratch the itch with my right index finger, my foot hit an uneven part of the trail, causing my finger to move in a more northward direction than I intended.  As a result, my finger went up my nose a bit, with my fingernail slamming into the nice delicate blood-vessel-rich skin there.

It hurt, but I didn't think anything of it.  Until I felt something running down my nostril and onto my chin.  When I wiped it with my hand, I saw nothing but red.  A river of bright red blood was now carving a valley out of my nose and down my chin, forming a small delta on my shirt.

Panicking, I grabbed the bottom of my bright orange shirt and held it to my nose, thereby drenching it in blood and afterwards looking like I had been stabbed in the lower left abdomen.  Thinking fast, I grabbed the toilet paper I always have with me on long runs out of its plastic bag and shoved a part of it up my nose.  It was also drenched within seconds.  I kept having to tear off a piece, shove it up my nose, and replace it when it got soaked with blood.  Mind you, this is all happening with cyclists and other runners whizzing by me, giving me quizzical looks and/or stopping and asking me if I was alright.

I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't had my trusty TP with me.  Use a leaf?  Knowing me, I would have grabbed some poison ivy rather than some innocuous plant life along the side of the trail.

This went on for about a good mile and a quarter.  Let me tell you, it's hard to apply direct pressure to a wound that is inside your nose.  But finally the bleeding slowed to a trickle, and I could resume my normal running.  Well, actually, I was running the whole time this was happening, just slower than normal.  God forbid I stop for rivers of blood flowing freely out of my snout.

Anyway, after that I began to get hot.  And tired.  And thirsty.  I had water in the ol' Camelbak, but it was warm.  I wanted cold water.  Ice cold water.  I started dreaming about it in mile 13, and was desperately mentally slobbering for it by mile 16.  Thankfully I was running through a small town called Poplar Grove by that time, so I stopped at a small local store to grab some ice cold H2O goodness.  As I stepped into the store, the manager came out from behind the counter and then stopped.  And stared at my shirt.  And then let out a gasp.

The store at which I stopped in Poplar Grove and one of the cyclists that gave me weird looks.

I must have been quite the sight, standing there all sweaty and nasty with blood on my face, neck, and shirt.  But at the time I just thought the clerk was a weirdo, not realizing the bloody mess I was, and I walked back to the coolers full of crystal clear cold water and grabbed two bottles.  After the clerk cautiously handed me my change, I walked outside and promptly downed one bottle on the spot.  It was like drinking the sweat of angels, it tasted so damn good.  I took the other bottle and refilled my Camelbak with its cold delicious angelic goodness, and then ate a bit of a bar I had brought with me.

I did this all in front of some cyclists that had stopped at the same store.  I was again getting stares.  I figured those stares were out of sheer jealousy at the awesomeness of my Camelbak, and then turned and made my way back to the trail to finish out my 4 remaining miles.  Right before I got back to the trail, I saw this written on a picnic table:

Keepin' it classy in Prairie Grove.

It wasn't until I got back to my car that I saw I looked like I had either a) survived a knife attack or b) perpetrated a knife attack on someone and had the victim's blood all over me.  Fantastic.  I guess me wearing bright orange socks paired with bright blue shoes just wasn't enough to make me stand out on the trail that day.

However, despite all the blood and longing for cold drinks, this run was fantastic for another reason-it was the fastest I have ever run 20 miles.  It was a full 10 minutes faster than any 20 mile training run I had ever run before.  My legs just didn't seem to want to slow down at all-I meant to keep the entire run in the 11s the entire time, but ended up in the upper 10s for a lot of those miles.

It's like I'm getting faster or something.  It's making that 9:30 marathon pace seem more and more realistic.  If I can pull that off during my marathon, it will be absolutely amazing.

Oh, and you know what else is amazing?  All that blood washed right out of my orange running shirt-it looks good as new.  Just an FYI for all you crazy people like me who give themselves nosebleeds on 20 mile long runs.

Rugged Maniac 2013: Mud, fun, and possible water-borne diseases.

I do love me a good mud obstacle course. My course of choice this summer was the Rugged Maniac 5K held in Wilmot, Wisconsin.

This race is so badass they make you jump over a wall just to get into the starting corral.

It's also badass because it takes place at a ski resort.  That means hills, people-and lots of them.

Oh I know those hills look all cute and small and stuff in that picture.  But they were beasts, I tell you.  Steep-ass thigh-frying lung-burning BEASTS.

As you come out of the starting corral, you race up the first of those beasts.  Well, maybe not "race;" more like "try and run and then realize you will never make it up the hill running so you stop and walk and hope you don't cause a massive people-pile-up behind you."  After you top that hill, you then run downhill over uneven ground down to your first obstacle- a mud pit.  After that, the race becomes a blur of running over bumpy ground, one obstacle after another (mostly walls and cargo nets), and climbing up those freaking hills.

I would like to talk about a few obstacles worthy of extra verbiage:

1) The water slide in mile 3.  This is perhaps the most fun obstacle (if you can call it an obstacle) that is on the course. Super-slippery, you go down fast and hit the pool of water at the bottom with a ginormous splash that feels fantastic that late in the race.

2) The sand dunes.  I started the race with a small rock in my shoe that bugged me until the sand dunes you had to climb up and down.  After that I had TONS of small rocks in my shoes and I didn't have to worry about the first one anymore.

3) The super-steep hills.  There were two occasions where you had to climb hills so steep they had to put down ropes for you to pull yourself up the hill while you were trying to climb the hill.  What's cruel is that the second hill is much steeper than the first hill.  Oh, the swear words I heard at the top of those hills.

4) The mud pits.  They put real barbed wire over the top of them so you were forced to crawl on your knees and/or belly.  Not that I mind; this was a mud obstacle race, after all.  But I wish I had worn capris that covered my knees, because they were pretty banged up from all the rocks and whatnots through which I was crawling afterwards.  One of those whatnots included a corrugated metal drain pipe I had to slide through head-first towards the end of the race.  Speaking of that pipe obstacle...

5) The pipe obstacle with the pool of nasty smelling water.  After diving head-first through a pipe, you slid straight into a pool of muddy, foul-smelling water.  I managed to keep my head above it, but you still had to swim through the water with your head not scraping the barbed wire strung above you.  This meant the water had to come up to my lips.  Yummo.  I managed to get to the other side without putting any more of my head under the water, where I then had to now go up a huge drain pipe with only a rope to help me.  And a rope without any knots in it, even.

This is where all my upper body weight work paid off.  I could actually pull myself up that pipe this year, unlike last year where some gentlemen kindly offered me a push and then shoved my ass up the pipe.  Mind you, I didn't do it fast and there was plenty of teeth baring and grunting involved, but I did it.  It made every moment of hated shoulder-work worth it.

6) The balance beam.  I'm the first to admit that my balance sucks.  So having to walk on a beam across greenish-nastyish-there is surely some disease lurking in there-water is just asking for trouble.  I got to that obstacle and started to cross....and then stopped.  I didn't really have a strategy for this.  I was trying to ballerina-side-step it across, and it just wasn't happening.  I got about a foot and half out and then decided to back up and try again.  When I backed up and tried again, the volunteer working the obstacle screamed, "GO ON, DON'T BE A QUITTER!  YOU CAN DO IT!"

My response?  "I KNOW I CAN DO IT.  NOW BE QUIET AND LET ME DO IT."

And then I did it by prancing across the beam as lightly and as quickly as I possibly could, cringing at the greenish brackish water in the ditch below the obstacle.  I"m glad that I was in the first wave, because after I was finished that same obstacle looked like this:

Check out those long lines.  There was nothing like that when I went through.  Amazing the difference an hour and a half makes on the course.

I saw those lines again at the final obstacle, a climb over some cargo containers and then up cargo netting (I sense a cargo theme).

When I got there during the race there was no mud at all on the wall.  Looks like a lot of muddy runners had flung themselves on that thing after I did.

I took a lot of other post-race pics because my race photographer decided to stay in bed rather than come with me, so here are some other random pictures I took from the day:

The finish line before anyone had crossed it.

Attack of the mud people.

The last obstacle.

The last of three mud pits.  Barbed wire = bonus.

Obligatory mud run fire jumping.

Before the mud run.....

....after the mud run.  And a rinse.

Despite the water from which I am sure I will contract a fatal disease, I love this race.  It is challenging and fun at the same time, even if there are hills from hell all over it.  I must say that as I write this the next day, my entire body is sore, especially my ankles.

It's going to make my 20 mile training run this afternoon all the more interesting.