Race Report: Sinister 7 (extended)

I am elated to say that I have survived my first ultra-marathon! Ragnar and I went down to Crowsnest Pass and participated in the Sinister 7 ultra marathon this past weekend.

A bit of back story on how we got caught up in this crazy idea: my friends and I were out at Wings Night at the bar (it always starts at a bar). I discovered that one friend was expecting, due two months before this race. I didn't want to make assumptions about her fitness and ability to run, if she felt she was really ready, so I just said, "If you don't think you'll feel ready for this, I can take your spot. Sure, I'll totally be ready to run." (I have since learned not to say this because it's inviting disaster)

My friend was more enthusiastic than I expected, and then Ragnar got involved (though this wasn't his first race), then some friends had to back out...

And then the area where the race was to take place got flooded. Southern Alberta flooded with the vengeance of a 100-year flood plain that was doubted. Google 'Alberta Floods 2013' to see how it went. Ragnar was sent down with the army, interrupting any running regime he was doing, and only just made it back in time. We thought the race might be cancelled, but as Alberta is so fond of doing, we made it happen.

In any case, the race was on, and Ragnar and I were up. My boss has done Sinister 7 in the past, so when I brought up the subject of taking Friday off to drive down, he completed my sentence with, "and you'll need to take Friday off." Easy.

The drive through southern Alberta is gorgeous. It's six hours of beauty from Edmonton to Crowsnest Pass... blah blah blah. It's wonderful, and I suggest you do it. Stop in Nanton: the local aviation museum has a Lancaster aeroplane.

Anyways, this is a race report, not a weekend-get-away report.

The race started at 7 a.m. Funny story here: we camped next to a train track. The train went by at 1:30 a.m., 3:30 a.m., and 5:30 a.m. The first time it went by, our tent was so bright that I thought the sparse two hours of sleep was actually longer, so I got up to get ready... only to find the light was a street lamp over us. The extra four hours of sleep were tortured with train whistles, pre-race jitters and too much light.

Finally I gave in to awareness at the last train whistle, made a quick cup of coffee, downed a scone, and got dressed. And over-dressed. Mountain areas are cold first thing in the morning - but they can warm up quick... or they don't.

I was doing Leg 1 of the Sinister 7, 16.5km of which the first 10km is road-work and the last 6km are up into the hills.

With a farewell kiss to Ragnar (my teammates were around, but unfound at that point), I got ready for the gun to go off. Leg 1 runners begin their run along the road, but closer to the train-tracks. The path was a good introduction for what we would see later in the off-road portion of this leg: weeds brushing by our legs, slightly muddy, and we had to pay attention to the track before us.

Next we moved onto the Frank Slide. We ran along a side-road to the main highway, which took us through the awe-inspiring man-sized boulders and gravel that was once a solid piece of rock. The description in the race package says that the boulders could move again at any time (presumably fatally). Thanks for that note of confidence! But really, if you're ever in the Crowsnest Pass area, run around the Frank Slide roads, look up and see the boulders... It's a 'holy ****' moment.

Then the race proceeded through the town of Hillcrest, and while it was geographically the least favourite part of the run, the best part was the people interspersed, cheering us on. They were like the birthday present you don't expect around every other corner - surprise, sucka, we're cheering for you!

We left Hillcrest at around 7 km and started on a remote hill climb to the one water-point of this leg, at the 9km marker. That's when the fun started. We still had some more hill to do... but then there was a turn right and road gave way to four-wheeler track, and we were in the dense foliage of the Rocky Mountains.

Some of my very first impressions of this stage were: Lead cyclist with a raven on his helmet; huge green liquidy puddle of random wild animal poop; oh wow, mud; more mud; more poop; thank goodness this is too steep to run because my knee wouldn't let me.

From there, it was some steep ups, some steep downs, some steep flats even (I really don't know how they managed that). I learned quickly to look ahead quickly to check if I could run on even ground or if I would have to pass someone, whether there was an obstacle or a wash-out to navigate, and to keep my feet very directly on the goat-track before me - a mis-step could lead to a sprained ankle in some places, or a blown knee.

I really don't remember having so much fun while running. We ran through heavy trees and foliage, along a hillside that could send us tumbling to doom, past mocking cows; we got to see some amazing views of hillsides in the mountains that are possibly comparable with sunrises on beaches, but it's debatable. I wasn't allowed to have music with me, but it didn't matter. Once getting into the trees, the distance seemed to melt. When I got to the 15 km mark, I could see the buses at the end of Leg 1, and hoped they were further away than I expected them to be. Up to this point, I had been running when my right knee would allow me, but then my body seemed so very excited because I just wanted to run. The end came in the form of a downward hill which I tried very hard not to trip down. I managed to get the timing chip passed off to our Leg 2 person, and then went for snacks.

The only transportation allowed to that transition point was the shuttle bus and I was lucky to get on the first one I saw... but as I sat, chatting with a fellow Leg 1 runner, I felt disappointed that it was over. It wasn't just the stiffening up that my body was doing - I wanted to run more in the outback and beyond.

The following hours are much more mundane: I got picked up by the boyfriend, we got him ready for Leg 3, to the transition point, and then waited for Leg 2 to come in. She actually arrived while I was looking the other way or something, so I didn't get to watch Ragnar leave on his leg. I did have his car keys, so I drove Leg 2 back to her campsite and had the most welcome six-minute shower I've ever had. Then I went and picked up some pasta, took a lovely nap in our tent, and boiled up some pasta on a large camping Bunsen burner. I took myself over to the transition area where Ragnar would come in, and waited and enjoyed the sun.

Ragnar actually came in better time than when he did the Death Race, and later said that Leg 3 of Sinister 7 was more challenging. He was drained when he arrived; not even tent food or a shower really made him feel better, so I took him to the Tin Roof Bistro which boasts European fare. He ordered a hearty, heavily sauced dish that made him feel much better and then went for a nap in our tent, and I went and spent time with my friends until our Leg 4 runner came in.

Procuring Leg 4 was easier because Leg 2 drove us up there (I'd had an excellent glass of Tokaji wine with dinner and wasn't exactly good for following mountain driving directions). Leg 4 traded off to Leg 5 at 9 p.m. after some confusion involving an out-house, and we went back to the campsite and found Ragnar there. That was the beginning of a very long night.

Getting to the transition point for Leg 5 to 6 was... adventurous. I'm glad I wasn't driving. To call it the middle of nowhere is to actually declare an approximate location for this transition point, but somehow we made it. It was cold, and I was tired, but there were Christmas lights celebrating this hand-over point, and lots of loud music. We saw a lot of runners come in including some soloists (doing the whole 150 km on their own), but finally Leg 5 came in and 6 went out into the darkness... And we all collected in the truck to go back to the Transition point which we'd visited earlier (4->5) which became the point of transfer for Leg 6 to 7.

Things become a bit blurry at this point, because we were napping in the truck. It was approximately 2 a.m. at this point. I know our Leg 6 came in and transferred to Leg 7, but I don't think I was present for that hand-over. Sleep. Sleep is good. Somewhere in here, I had an inner debate about the meaning of 'team' and why I couldn't just say screw it, I'm going to bed: they're my team, and when I'm doing a leg, they'll be there for me. It's my duty to be there for them.

We made it to the finish line for the race - the plan was our racer of Leg 7 would come in at 4 a.m, we would get our photos taken, and then we would lay down and get sleep. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Four o'clock came and went, and there was no sign of our Leg 7. Since I know from personal experience that the track is muddier than hoped or expected I figured he was delayed. No problem. But it was cold and I really didn't want to see the sky getting light, so I went inside to the Sportsplex. I may have started a female revolution at that point because all the women joined me. There was a false alarm at around 4:45 a.m. and there may have been sotto voce threats, but I certainly didn't make any...

Finally, our runner came in... sometime around 5 a.m. At this point, things are a bit blurry in time and crankiness, so I remember: Oh thank god, he's here; let's get our damn photo and go to bed; okay, medals are cool now; can I sleep now; okay, another photo with medals; no, I don't care where I stand, I just want sleep; do I have to smile or can I do this photo with a vacant expression; no more photos, let's sleep.

Why was Leg 7 so late? He took a wrong turn and went racing 5 km through cow fields.

Finally, FINALLY, Ragnar and I picked up the car and crawled into our sleeping bags. I'd had the uncommon sense to set them straight earlier in the day and boy was I thankful.

We got to sleep in to the rosy hour of 9 a.m, wherein the tent got stiflingly hot and I couldn't pretend it was sleeptime anymore. After four hours of sleep, Ragnar and I got up, packed the car, and drove back to Edmonton, even managing to navigate Calgary for a stop at the local games store, Sentry Box.

Anyways, I'm fading and it's 11 p.m. so here are some observations:

• I may have been ruined for road-running. Trails are... like crack. The controlled substance of the running world.
• Sinister 7 needs to solicit more frequent service for port-a-potties. 
• Sinister 7 should not promise a shuttle from a campsite in their race instructions and then not have one.
• Sinister 7's transition points should be marked more clearly, and their late night runs need clearer marking. Maybe with flashing neon lights. Like in Las Vegas.
• Fail to prepare, prepare for your knees to hate you. And when you ignore them, expect them to attempt revenge. I'm still putting down the revolution.
• Get sleep whenever you have more than five minutes to yourself. Make time during the day for naptime because you're not going to be sleeping that night anyways.

This is up for editing, with possible photos.

Race Report: Edmonton Half Marathon

As an introduction, I have to confess that I was both ready and not ready for this race. Ready in that, technically, I had done the runs, worked on my fitness, and was pretty physically prepared as I was going to be. Not ready in that my head was a mess. Yesterday was spent dashing around town, doing this that and the other, and not relaxing and thinking my race through. I generally got stuck on, "Holy crap, I'm racing, it's going to be hot, what if I..." with a general end result that was worse than death, injury, or a bad time. I like to work myself up about the little stuff.

But I hydrated like (almost) a pro, despite the new research that constant hydration is possibly not the best thing for you (just like eggs, innocent last week, are apparently as bad as smoking, but I really don't know how you'd smoke an egg). I got my race kit ready, I set my alarm, I had my boyfriend informed, and all seemed ready to go.

I did get to the race on time, though the gear check signs were a little misleading (an arrow pointed left means left, an arrow pointed up means go through this break in the fence). I got all checked in, tried to find an appropriate start place (which ended up being just behind the 2:30 pace bunny), and all too soon, we were heading out.

The route, I knew, was going to be an out-and-back, from the Northlands Park down to Somewhere in the River Valley. I started off very confident and strong (despite yesterday's emotional upheaval). Despite a frequently patched-and-rutted road (thank you, Edmonton City Council), I was moving strong, and had to remind myself that my pace target was 6:00m/km, not 5:45, or even worse, 5:30. The thing I loved was the very strong Edmonton Police Service presence, and got a high-five from a cop as I went by. I think I may make this a race custom, if I can.  The first five kilometers were not through a necessarily pretty area of Edmonton, despite the River Valley on the left side. After that, we started moving closer to downtown, and the last unprettiness is the unscenic pre-Chinatown area. However, there was no Lilydale packing plant, so Edmonton wins on that.

Since we ran across Chinatown instead of through, I did not say a thing about stopping for dim-sum. I was already starting to feel some wear on my body, but kept on truckin'. Through downtown Edmonton, we raced right by Allison's apartment building (if she weren't racing, I'd have stopped for a break), and through a little arch into Railtown. Starting with the Edmonton Veterinary Emergency Clinic, the place was rife with cheerers-on, applauders, and signs. Many were the usual 'You're Doing Great!' or 'Keep Going', but some were fun, like 'Why Do All the Pretty Girls Run Away From Me?' I shouted over my shoulder, "Because we're hoping you're chasing!"

After Railtown, with all its lovely shade, we passed by the Royal Alberta Museum, and it was about this time, at 8km that my left knee started to make its presence known. Not the usual gentle, "Um, I beg your pardon," but the, "Oi, what the hell do you think you're doing up there?" It was a pain on the outside of the kneecap, so I'm pretty sure it's rejecting the runner lifestyle. Or whatever, I didn't care. I had passed the 2:30 pace bunny and was feeling strong, despite my knee. In fact, I think I passed a fair number of people at this time. Down 102 Ave we went, and suddenly, it seemed like heaven - people were turning! Thank goodness, the turn around point!

I was a little self-delusional at this point. No, the corner was not the turn-around point (as anyone who had really studied the race map would have told me), there was still another kilometer and some in the affluent neighbourhood of People-Who-Don't-Listen-To-Insurance-Companies-Or-Common-Sense. Yes, it's the beautiful neighbourhood along the River Valley where homes have been known to slide into the river below because they were built too close to the edge. Fortunately, no homes fell in today, and we safely made it past the turn-around point and again into shade.

On my way back, around 11km, my right knee was starting to complain too. I would take extra walk breaks, and for a while, Advil helped a bit. However, after leaving downtown, there was little shade. I tried to take my last Advil, and it fell to the ground. To hell with it. Keep going. Once I passed the 18km marker, I realized I really could finish this in a suitable time. My hamstring had felt a bit achey on and off, but I really felt that 3km more was not going to be much of a problem. By then I had my fellow racers who I could not lose against (one of whom turned out to be doing the marathon, bless her), and I made it, and kept it, past them. Walk breaks were a risk, though - every time I took one, it took longer to start up running again. I would do the stiff-knee waddle for a little while before whatever was hurting warmed up (or just resigned itself to a life of servitude and pain). I took one more walk-break at 21km before realizing that, unlike the Calgary 10km, my own home city wouldn't lull me into thinking 0.1km was not that far away. I started to run again, and kept up a powerful (at the time, for me, it was powerful), up around the bend, through the first arch, and up the little hillet to the second arch, and I was done! DONE!

It turns out that I came in at 2 hours, 17 minutes, and 24 seconds, another 10 minutes off my last half marathon time! I'm very happy with this.

Now, it's naptime.

Post-Race: Calgary Marathon 10K

Last month, my sweetie was told, "Thou shalt run a marathon!"

So he signed up for the Calgary marathon and said to me, "Hey, why not run the 10k?"

What a brilliant idea, I said, and signed up. However (sidestory), due to uncertain lodging details, I invited my friend Allison to join us, and got a hotel room.

Anyway, we headed down on sunny Saturday, met with some Running Maniacs for lunch, then went to get our race kits at the Big Four of the Olympic Park.
Now, let me preface this next statement with the acknowledgement that I was spoiled by the Ottawa Race Weekend, and I know this, and it's not fair, but the Calgary Marathon expo was ... disappointing. Getting my race kit was easy, getting my shirt was easy, finding the bathroom was very easy but there were few exhibitors, it wasn't an easy in-and-out process, and what there was to see just wasn't very exciting. It felt like it needed a face lift.

Fast forward to race-day. We all wake up at 5 a.m. Thankfully, we had laid our race kits out the night before, because I swear if we'd had to think this through the morning of, we would have ended up wearing each other's clothes. 
By 6 a.m., we are fed (granola bars) and already heading to the C-train. It is cold outside, at 2C, and it feels colder than we expected (meanwhile, Ottawa's race weekend is enjoying at least 15C). After figuring out the fare payment method, we get the train and arrive, along with the many other racers. How exciting, we're wandering around our first non-hometown race! It's getting close to race-time for Ragnar, and he has to find his regiment buddies. With a send-off and final kiss, Ragnar goes one way and Allison and I head in to check our bags.What marvelous bag-check, there is no line-up for us!

The only thing I might mention at this point is that signs above ankle-reading height would have been nice.

So we wait a bit before braving the cold to get to the start-line. Somehow, Allison and I get in right behind the 50 minute pace-bunny. No matter, though, we'll figure ourselves out. Neither of us are really going for best time.

The gun goes off, and Allison and I move quickly over the starting line. The first two kilometers is pretty hard - the scenery is not very pretty, there are cars trying to make their way through, and I'm really not sure I'll be able to keep this pace up. Into the third kilometer, I'm getting used to the feeling of it. This area is looking a bit nicer, I'm warming up, and my legs are loosening up. By the end of that third kilometer, I've gotten rid of my throw-away sweater, and suddenly, there's a hill. Okay, it's not a huge hill, but it's more hill than I expected! I repeat to myself, "I love hills. I love hills. I love hills. Oh, who am I kidding?" I do actually love hills, but it depends on whether they're thinking kindly of me.
By the fifth kilometer, we're moving into some really nice, trendy areas. A little combination of Bank St. in Ottawa and Whyte Ave. in Edmonton. Allison asks if we want to stop for sushi. For a second, I consider it, but everyone's behind me, so let's keep going. At this point, I have had a stitch which passed, a shin ache that passed, and my knees haven't started yet, so why stop now?
Six and seven pass well, but by eight, my knees have suddenly realized that I wasn't joking, and start to ache a little. This time, the hill starts down, then up, back into the Olympic park. The end must be near, right? Oh no, there's two more kilometers to go. By then, I've seen the Saddledome, and it promises and beckons. The end has got to be around here somewhere.
Back and forth, we go, winding our way to the finish line. Allison and I are saving our breath, but hey, I think to myself, I'm feeling strong, I'm upright, and I can't believe we're already nearly there! The ninth kilometer is through the parking lot, and while I'm amusing myself with mentioning I'm passing the 41st marker in one hour, the joke is kinda getting old. Suddenly, there's a turn, with a big floating arch, so that's the end, right? Oh, I am to laugh!
With 500 meters to go, Allison jets off. I figure I'll get there when I get there by now, and give my knees, who haven't stopped complaining, a little break. As I pass over the timing strip that keeps you honest, I pick it up again. The end is so close! I really can see it! Then I see the time. 1:06:21, and there is no way I'm not beating my first 10k time. I pick up some speed, and make it over as the clock reads something like 1:06:33, and I'm done! Allison and I catch up with each other, congratulations are given on jobs very well done (her, the pacer; me, the amusing but sometimes irreverent side-kick), get our packs, and then go regroup, change, and wait for Ragnar. Pancakes are also devoured.

Three hours later, Ragnar came across the marathon finish line at 4:19:16 (according to my camera). A dash back to the hotel, shower, Starbucks, and leave for lunch. Ragnar was safely ensconced in the back seat with all the room he could get in the back of a four-door Honda Civic.

We are home now, and apart from my previous recounting of the tale, my impressions of Calgary and its running event are:
Calgary's downtown is beautiful. Seriously, Edmonton, WTF.
Starbucks apparently close at 6 p.m. on weekends in DT Calgary. WTF.
Calgary marathon is a fun event, but you go for the run and the Running Maniacs, not for the Expo. 

Here ends my tale.

Oh, and lessons learned: when traveling to an event, check the weather expected, and then bring everything anyways. The end is never as near as you want it to be. Stay at a Westin, you can steal use the soap. Travel with someone, keep your phones on you, and designate a meeting point, even if you insist at waiting at the end line. Always have a warm sweater and windbreaker for after. If there is free food, and you're not allergic to it, take it. Drink water afterwards or your eyeballs do funny things. Run a race with a buddy at least once, to see how it goes. Throw-away sweaters can be purchased for cheap at second-hand stores.

St. Patrick's Day 10K 2011

After not posting in all of February, I will finally write:

Enough, Winter, lay off and bring in Spring! Gawwwwwd!

It's been cold and rainy and snowy and miserable here, and I think everyone who's not an ardent skier will agree that it is time for nicer weather.

The contrast is apparent in photos of this year's race compared to last year. 2010's St. Patrick's Day race was, though overcast and slightly drizzly, verdant. This year's photos show snow, snow, slush, ice, and icy water. No green to be seen!

Having moved much further away than last year, I was a little worried about arrival, but I was able to arrive 30 minutes before race-time anyway. I had decided to do the 10k this year, because I knew I could do the distance, but it was still a challenge.

The race took us from Immaculata High School (who generously lent their gym) up Col. By Drive, up to around Carleton University and back. The first half had more uphill, and the only benefit of that was it meant more downhill on the way back. However, I can still remember after the half-way mark thinking, "What? This was uphill a few minutes ago! It's a physics impossibility to have this route be uphill both ways at the same time!"

I will admit, this race was a struggle. I had been sick two weeks prior, and my lungs felt like they couldn't get full. My legs and knees were wobbly by the end of it, and I took far too many walk-breaks (and one texting break).

I picked up my pace for the last kilometer, and made it in at 1:13, only 6 minutes longer than my first 10k. I was a bit disappointed because I'd really hoped to get under one hour, but I think if I hadn't been sick, my time would have been a lot better.

Post-run, I harassed a friend to wakefulness and dragged him out for brunch. I had a probably-very-unhealthy steak and eggs. Protein, baby!

Lessons learned from this race:
1. Eat something more than cereal before a race. A bowl of cheerios was not cutting it. And of course, experiment with what this meal will be before race day!

2. If you're going to get sick, try to do it after the race. If you can't put off being sick, try to take care of yourself as much as possible so you get healthy faster. This is a legitimate reason to take time off work, and your boss who is hopefully a runner will understand.

3. You still have something at the end! Swing the arms harder, know it's the end, and go for it! See the clock ticking up and tell yourself, "Not gonna finish 1:15 if I can help it!"

4. Don't mouth along to your music. Everyone will think you're strange, and it's very likely you're interrupting your breathing habits. The latter is more dire.

St. Patrick's Day Run - March 12, 2010

For the first time ever, I did a short race for fun.

Author's Note: I was just going through my old posts and noticed this never got posted! So I'll finish it here, in the past tense.

It's been about a year since I did this race, and I will do it again this year, I am sincerely hoping!

Getting to the race, at a local high school was little problem. Parking was a bit more of one. Good thing I took the bus! But the energy once getting my racing kit was high, and the grey sky and drizzle didn't dampen anyone's spirits.

A running friend lent me a green tie with shamrocks all over it for an Irish flair. I still have it and will wear it again for this year's race. I consider it my medal for the race. :) Maybe I'll see her this year and be able to return it!

The race went well, but I decided that I really wanted to try for 5k in 30 minutes. I realized that I hadn't worked up my race pace enough and was pushing myself for it, and came in at 33m45s. Not too bad!

I also had a bit of incentive in this race. Later that day, I headed out to Petawawa to help celebrate my now-boyfriend's birthday and was able to regale them with the tale of my race.

Another way this race was fun: there is absolutely no competitive tone for this race, which encourages a lot of casual runners to join. I saw a lot of friends who were not usually runners in this race, and had a lot of fun comparing times and aches and pains later.

This year will mark one year of doing the St. Patrick's Day run and one year of dating my sweetie, who is encouraging and wonderful and a delight to run with!

Victory is 2:28. So Far

I done it.

I done it ten minutes faster than last time.

To drop the (wherever) accent, I did the race weekend half-marathon in two hours and twenty eight minutes. Let me tell you, nothing is sweeter than thinking you'll never make it to the end line, finding the one thing in your head that will keep you going, and beating your realistic deadline.

As usual, here is what I learned from this race:
1. Run your own race. Don't run it with anyone. I started running the race with three wonderful running buddies from the running room. However, during the first half of the race, I had to depart their company and do my own thing. Why? Because I was achin'. They had done all the work deserving of a 2:15 finish, while I had already admitted that I did not. After 10k, I stopped playing catch-up, and was able to win on my own terms.

2. Find one thought that will keep you going. At around 7km, I struggled and panted and wasn't sure I'd even finish in 2:30, or at all, from how my knee was starting to ache. I reached deep, and thought of one thing past this race to strive for: Army. I had my army bracelet to touch and fondle, and that really kept me thinking that, if I didn't finish this, I couldn't reach far enough in me to even try the army. That, and my boyfriend: What would he think if I fell out half-way through? (realistically, I'm sure he'd know I stopped for good reasons, but my knee was the only thing hurting at that point, and I had tylenol on me)

3. Tylenol, despite what anyone else may say, is your friend while you're running a race like that. Take it with you.

4. No matter how dead you are, how dragging-the-feet you feel, you have enough for the end. Ever since about 8k to the end, I had been picking up my pace - swinging my arms faster, thinking of the sweet beer reward, making smaller goals of getting past the 2:30 bunny, all these tactics played a part in my getting ahead of my previous time. Even when I was dragging my butt at 3km out, I would still pick up my knees and keep moving. I made a conscious decision to save myself between 300m and 100m out, but when I saw that end line, and the time counting down, I decided I would not be ending anywhere after the strike of 2:30, and picked up my aching knees and thighs again to make it in. I may have felt like collapsing after I crossed the line, but damn if it didn't add to the euphoria of finishing before my deadline.

5. Again: have people at the endline. It doesn't even matter who, anymore. Even if your friends are waiting for you outside the running area, look for a familiar face. It's well worth hearing their own endtimes and tribulations and sharing your own.

6. Do the work: For all that I'm patting myself on the back, and knowing I was busy, I know my time would have been better if I'd done more of the work.

That's all for now... If I can think of more, I will add them in.

Post-Half-Marathon

In celebration of finishing the half-marathon in a standing position, I will dispense of some wisdom I have learned:

- Don't stop training two weeks before the half. The distance you haven't run is where your body will file for divorce.

- Have friends at the end-line. Nothing beats that feeling.

- Stay in hotels with treadmills. You may hate them, but you won't need your Garmin to GPS your ass home

- After the race, eat whatever the hell you want. That's part of the reward.

- Even if there's no race on the horizon, think ahead. For me, it's likely the marathon (though I said I wouldn't, apparently I'm going to anyway).

- Remember the feeling of crossing that finish line. It will help you cross many more.

- Tell everyone your next race.

- Take one day of rest or easy exercise per every mile (not kilometer) run. I've exhausted my 13 days, so it's back to the grind.

- Really, really, really, do not use your new shoes outside. I have spent $300 on new shoes in the past three months. Two pairs. Glycerin 7s didn't work out.

- Don't be bashful when people say you're looking good or that you've lost weight. You have, even if the scale is lying to you.

- Keep writing your damn blog because it will at least keep your mind on running.

My new challenge will be getting back into cold weather running - I knew I said I love it, prefer it over hot weather running... but we'll see. Almost time to break out the YakTrax!

Oh, and fall-weather running? Blows.

Success is 1 hour, 7 minutes, and 45 seconds

I ran the 10K yesterday evening, and got in at a very satisfactory 67 minutes and 45 seconds.
I had been hoping for 60 minutes, but due to some oversights, I'm happy that I made it through the whole course still standing.

The race was fun for a lot of reasons. For example, all the people who like to dress up for the race - someone was wearing a pair of shorts with buttocks, advertising a rendition of the Full Monty. Another thing was, as we were passing underneath the Queensway, everyone let out yells to echo through. That was fun.
I am also extremely thankful to everyone who lined up to watch the 10k'ers go by. All the adults with signs, the children with their pots and pans, and the people who would read my name off my race bib and encourage me to keep going. Even if I didn't know them, it was like each of them were cheering at least in part for me.

I did learn a few good lessons from this, though:
1. Keep water with you: I had decided not to bring my water bottle with me, because I dislike wearing it while running. However, the water stations were set so far apart that, from kilometer 4 to kilometer 8, there was nothing. I was reduced to walk two minutes, run two minutes. By the time I got to the 8km water station, I was knocking back about 2.5 cups. The sun was punishing, and I think I would have gotten a much better time had I had a constant source of water. I'm lucky I didn't seize up or faint!

2. They're not joking when they say hydrate before the run: if I had maintained my hydration level on the day of that I had the day before, lesson #1 wouldn't have been quite as much a problem.

3. If you have blisters from another sport, make sure they're cushioned: I took care of them and while they didn't really cause me that much trouble during the race, I did feel them.

And then the two things that I had known before, through common sense: who cares if everyone else is wearing the race day shirt? If it's hot and sunny, wear white; and, ice your knees after.

I do wish John Stanton's book had a bit more detail of post-race recovery. For me, I did what felt natural. I had a steak dinner, drank water, and went to bed.