So who else farts around before a summer long run?

Yesterday morning I ran Brett's Run, the very first 5K I ever ran, on my 3rd annversary of being smoke-free.  It's actually the fourth time I've run it, and I love it every time.  It's a flat out-and-back course through a subdivision, and is always very well run.

It also helps that it is only 10 minutes from my house.

It was raining pretty hard when the race started, and I was dressed in my orange sparkle skirt in order to test it out under race conditions (I will be wearing it in my next Ragnar this weekend and wanted to see what it was like at higher speeds).  Since the race t-shirts everyone was wearing were orange, I blended right in.  However, I will never understand why people insist on wearing the cotton race t-shirts they get during the race itself--especially when it is pouring down rain.  The thing becomes like a lead weight on your back while racing.  There's a reason God invented wicking fabrics, people.

Anyhoo, I had a good run.  Since I was not interested in causing any injuries, I was determined to push it, but not go all out.  That's why I set my watch to just tell me my pace after each lap rather than my instantaneous pace, so I wouldn't get all caught up in the numbers. Besides--it's always good to learn how to run by feel than by the dictates of a little black rectangle on your wrist.  Because of that, I ended up running a 26:39, which is about an 8:20 pace.  I negative split this race, starting at about an 8:37 and then speeding up to around 8:15 or so, which I am happy about.

The other thing I can be happy about is that I didn't let some lady pass me in the last 0.1 mile.  I was coming down the home stretch towards the chute, and, out the corner of my right eye, I saw a woman start to book it, trying to pass me.

The only thought going through my head was, "OH, HELL NO."

I really dug deep, and was surprised by how much energy I had.  I schooled her easily, passing her and two other people on my way to the finish line, leaving them in the wake of my sparkly orange skirt.  My last 0.19 of a mile was run at a 6:50 pace, which tells me I had way more gas in the tank than I thought I did.  Somewhere I have become a bit of a mental wimp, and I am going to have to whip myself into shape, realizing I have more energy than I think I do.  This will be something on which to work during my next round of training, which starts tomorrow.  (Twin Cities Marathon, here I come!)

After the race, I checked the results and saw that I had placed third in my age group.  So I sat in the driving rain and waited for my name to be called.

Only my name was never called.  The original results posted were wrong; I came in 4th, not third.  Have to love those kind of screw-ups (not really).  

I came home exhausted, but I fully intended to go for an 11 mile run in the afternoon rather than risk potential injury at my Warrior Dash.  Why 11 miles?  Because my legs for Ragnar Wasatch Back were switched, and now I am runner #9, which has an 11.6 mile night run.  I had every intention of going on that run until I fell asleep for 3 hours in my bean bag chair.  (Note to self: I am too old to fall asleep in bean bag chairs unless I would like to seriously mess up my back.)  After that mega-nap, I was in no mood to do anything but eat dinner and go to bed.  So, that's what I did, intending to do a long run the next day.

I got up this morning at 5 A.M. and was planning on doing my run (I was aiming for 16 miles) at 7 A.M.  It looked vastly different outside than the rainy day before:

Instagrammed for your viewing pleasure.

But because I have this nasty habit of farting around and getting caught up in stupid TV shows, I didn't head out until 9 A.M., when it was much hotter and more humid.  I also chose to run a route that has very little shade, and a lot of it was run with my back to the wind.

Please learn from my mistakes, people.

I was miserable from mile 1.  I was actually very cranky to start with for other reasons, so I was having a hard time finding that awesome running groove I usually slip into by mile 2.  I'm pretty sure I scowled at everything and everyone for the first hour.  My legs were feeling the faster running from the day before, I was wearing thick calf sleeves because a shin splint had started to act up on my left leg.

These were warm in the winter.  And today in the heat.

  

Thankfully that shin splint was quiet on the run.  If it acted up, I probably would have just scowled at it to get it back in line.  Around mile 5 or so I began to feel better, so I decided to do 14 miles, turning around at the 7 mile mark.

It was right after I turned around that I really began to feel the heat.  By that time it was about 10:30, and the heat was really getting obnoxious.  I know the temperature was only about 78 degrees, but when you're running without wind and without shade, it feels like you're burning alive--especially if you haven't really run regularly in the heat yet.  Thankfully, God invented Camelbak hydration backpacks, and I had mine on and was drinking every mile.  I also had 5 gels with me, so I was fueling about every 40 minutes.  Without my water and food, I really would have bit the dust out there and maybe even resorted to calling the hubbs to come get me while I sat in the road and cried.

Even with my water and fuel, I had to start run/walking the last 3 miles.  My legs actually felt OK, but I felt like I had no gas whatsoever.  What I started doing was walking for about 200 meters and then running a half a mile, repeating that sequence until I made it home.  Did I feel like a total wimp for doing this?  Yes.  Was I glad I did so I could make it to where the food and cold water was?  Absolutely.  Am I going to start slower on my next hot run?  You bet.

The most important question, however, is this: Am I actually going to get out the door at 6 or 7 AM to avoid looking like this at the end of my run?

YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES.