Pride cometh before the fall

I was pretty darn proud of myself for winning my age group in the Lincoln-Douglas 3 Mile race yesterday.

So today, in order to restore balance to the universe, I fell.

Not intentionally, of course. I was just running a 10-miler with some friends, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, the sidewalk jumped up and grabbed my foot, causing me to do what looked like a slide into home base... except that instead of a nice sandy baseball field, I was on a gravely concrete sidewalk . And instead of simply getting my baseball uniform a little dirty around the knees (because I wasn't wearing a baseball uniform), I ended up with bloody knees and scraped-up palms. Yeah, it was a bright and shining moment for me.

As an added bonus, several people saw it happen. I was running with my new marathon training group this morning. If I had been running alone, it would have been no big deal. Anyone who might have saw me wouldn't have known me. I would have gotten up, dusted off my knees and acted like nothing happened. Instead, though, at least three people (who now know me and will run with me many times) witnessed my abundant grace and elegance. This proves the first and second corollaries of the Theory of The Pride Cometh After The Fall, and those are:

• The fall that cometh after pride is much more effective if there are witnesses.
• The fall that cometh after pride is most effective if the witnesses are familiars of the fallen.

Fortunately, my familiars did not tease or taunt me. They were very kind, in fact, stopping to make sure I was okay, and offering words of support and encouragement, such as one woman telling me about the time her husband tripped and fell during a run and ended up having to get stitches in his forehead. He must have had a LOT of pride before that fall!

My fall happened around the 3.5-mile mark of my run. Though my wounds were not deep, they really stung, and I was a bit worried about what chunks of dirt and junk might be lodged in my skin. Fortunately, at the halfway point of my run, I was at the Tower in Peoria Heights, where I could stop in the bathroom and quickly clean out my wounds. It was then that I realized I had blood running down my leg. Nice!

After I cleaned up, I turned around and headed back to the starting point of the run. I finished strong, not letting silly things like surface abrasions slow me down. If anything was going to slow me down this morning, it was the weather. It was a unbelievably muggy, making this "easy 10" anything but easy. To those members of the training group who showed up and ran this morning, whether they ran 10 miles or 6 miles, I give high fives and fist bumps. Well done, team. Well done.


And here's my run graph... I actually felt pretty strong today, even with the humidity and the whole falling-on-my-face incident.

I like this marathon training group a lot. They're really supportive of each other. There's a large mix of different abilities and paces, but everyone encourages everyone. It's a lot like FAST in that sense. Also, they put out water and Gatorade along the planned route, which means I don't have to wear that water bottle belt that I loathe with every fiber of my being. I am a much happier runner when I don't have to carry fluids with me.

So, despite my fall, I had a good run this morning. And shhhhhhh... don't tell anyone, but I'm still proud of placing first in my age group yesterday.

Peace. Love. Train.

Well that's a first... literally!

So, I ran a race this morning. That probably doesn't come as too much of a surprise - I seem to be running a lot of races these days. But my decision to run this race was fairly last-minute. After my not-triple-but-double-race-weekend last weekend, I thought I was done running races until September.

Apparently, I thought wrong.

I found out there was going to be a race right in the town I live in. It's an old race - it's been around longer than Steamboat, I think. But I've never run it before, because it is small and intimidating. Yes, I'm intimidated by small races, because I have always feared finishing last. And for the record, although I never have finished last in a race, I have finished second-to-last. So my fears are not completely unfounded. Of course, that was 4 years ago and there's a story behind it... but I'll save that tale for another time.

These days, with all my recent PR's and whatnot, I don't worry so much about embarrassing myself with my slowness. In fact, I now look at small races as sources of great opportunity. In small races, I have the chance to place fairly high in my age group. Do you all remember that time, a couple months ago, I stumbled across a 5k race (it was a complete coincidence), signed up for it at the very last minute, and then won 2nd place in my age group? Even in the Cherry Festival 5k, which had over 450 runners, I placed 6th in my age group (out of 39). They don't give out awards for 6th place, of course, but I was still pretty proud of that. Never mind the fact that I was less than 1/4 second behind 5th place... grrrrrrr...

Anyway, fast forward to today. I rolled out of the bed this morning and decided that since I needed to run 3 miles anyway (per my training plan), I may as well run 3 miles with a bunch of other people and get a t-shirt and some bananas and cookies out of it. And there was that teeny tiny voice in the back of my mind saying "You could place in your age group too, you know..." I told the teeny tiny voice to shush.

I arrived at the high school, registered for the race, and then jogged down to the starting line. The 3 mile route was a route I'd run many many times, so I knew where the hills were, and how the elevation changed. I knew that it would be mostly uphill for the 2nd half of the race. I knew I would need to start conservatively to save some energy for that uphill battle.

And then I proceeded to do the complete opposite of that.

I may have mentioned this once or twice before, but I'm not so great when it comes to pacing myself during shorter races. I tend to go out too fast and then die off in the middle. Today was no exception. I ran my first mile in 7:31, which, incidentally, is the fastest one mile time I've ever recorded. (Prior to that, it was 7:43, which I ran this past Tuesday at FAST in a one-mile time trial.) So theoretically, I should have finished that first mile and then promptly died. But I am strong-willed when it comes to avoiding death. I pushed on, albeit at a much slower pace. My mile splits, as you will see below, were 7:31, 8:08 and 8:36. So, uh, yeah... that whole starting-off-conservatively-to-save-energy-for-later plan went just swimmingly.

Per my mile splits on the Garmin, I finished in 24:13. Per the official race results, I finished in 24:43. I'm not sure why there was such a large discrepancy, but they were having difficulty with the clocks when they were trying to start the race, so perhaps there was a timing error. And it's possible my Garmin was wrong too, although everything looks to be in order from my map and charts. But I think the strongest theory is that I was running so fast that my time slowed down, while time continued as normal for the race clock because it was stationary (per the Theory of Special Relativity), causing my Garmin to register a lower time than the race clock. I bet elite runners experience that problem a lot. *nods wisely*

Feeling good about my finish time, I stuck around for the awards ceremony, thinking that maybe I had a shot at 3rd or 2nd place. When they got to calling out the awards for my age group, I was on the edge of my seat, tapping my foot and biting my nails nervously. I'm still so new to this whole winning-awards-for-running thing, that it's all very exciting for me. They called out 3rd place... with a time of 30:something. Ooooo, I definitely had finished faster than that! Then they called out 2nd place... with a time of 29:something. Really? I was definitely faster than that too! And then they called out first place from another age group by mistake, and nearly gave me a heart attack. The announcer quickly realized his folly and called out "Sorry about that... First place in Female 30-34 is Emily ***** with a time of 24:43."

Shut.UP!

I did mange to get up and get my trophy without tripping, fainting, or crying. It was close, though. On all three. I felt like I was winning the Miss America pageant. I wondered to myself, Should I fake-cry? Wave to the audience? Wear a tiara and carry roses? And would someone sing to me "Here she is... Miss Female 30 to 34...."?

Okay, so it wasn't the Miss America pageant. But I won a trophy! A trophy! Look at it, all shiny and pretty, with the runner girl on it (who, by the way, I think I could beat in a race, just judging by her stride). And it says right on it "1st Place". That's just plain cool. I feel shocked, awed and damn proud.


So we've looked at the pretty - now it's time to look at the ugly: my run graph. This run graph may have won an age group award, but it's still not a good graph. I went out entirely too fast, and you can see my pace just got slower and slower and slower, until the last half mile, where I started to pick up again. I even took water in the middle of the race, not because I was thirsty (although I was), but because I needed an excuse to slow down for a little bit.


So, if I ever want to become a short-distance specialist, I suppose I'll have to work on my pacing. I have no problem running negative splits in a half-marathon or marathon. I know I have plenty of time to ease into a comfortable pace and then gradually build. But in shorter races, there's not a lot of time for anything gradual, and that makes me nervous. The nerves cause me to take off like a rocket, and then I fizzle out.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still very pleased with the run, and most of all, with my trophy. Maybe I'm not as slow as I think I am...

*puts on tiara and waves to the crowd while fake-crying*

Peace. Love. Train.

Triple Race Weekend Report...

...aka, Why It's Good To Have Backup Races

So yeah, I'm finally getting around to writing up my race reports from this past weekend. Better late than never, right? So here we go, in chronological order:

Steamboat Classic 4-Mile

This was my 5th consecutive year running this particular race. It is a Peoria icon, having been around for over 35 years. The official tagline for Steamboat is "The World's Fastest 4 Mile Race" (and also "Illinois' Toughest 15k", because Steamboat is actually comprised of two races run simultaneously, one of which is short and flat, and one of which is long and hilly). The unofficial tagline, at least as far as I'm concerned, is "It's not Steamboat without the steam!" The weather is always hot and humid for Steamboat, so anyone wanting to run these races should expect nothing less than 70° and 90% humidity at the time of race start. This year, I believe it was 72° and 97% humidity. Awesome!

Given the *begin sarcasm* fabulous weather conditions *end sarcasm* and my difficulty in running my goal pace during FAST training runs, I was pretty sure my super-stretch goal of 36:00 was out of the picture. But I was confident I could break 40:00, and felt reasonably capable of breaking 38:00, so that's where I set my sights.

We arrived at the race start and I lined up a few yards behind the 9:00 pace sign. It felt strange to be there, as I've always placed myself at the 11:00 or 12:00 pace signs. But I am a faster runner now. Not fast... just fastER.

The national anthem was played and before I knew it, we were off. I made a deliberate effort to not go out too fast, as I have done in recent 5k races. I always run better when I ease into my pace. I started out at a conservative pace of about 10:00 and then gradually accelerated over the first half-mile to a comfortably fast pace of about 9:20. After the second mile, it wasn't quite so comfortable anymore, but I was still accelerating ever-so-slightly and was now running sub-9:00. In the final mile, I backed off my pace a little bit because I wanted to have the energy to fly down the hill and sprint to the finish line at the end. From checking my Garmin, I knew that my 36:00 goal was within reach. I just needed to hold on to my pace. I rounded the corner that began the downhill stretch toward the finish line. I let the downhill carry me without forcing a faster pace. I knew I would have just enough left in me for a final kick. I turned the last corner and the finish line was in sight, less than 100m ahead. I shifted gears and ran for my life. I saw the clock over the finish line read 35:57... 35:58... 35:59... I knew the clock was ahead of me because it had taken me at least 30 seconds to cross the starting line. 36:03... 36:04... 36:05... DONE! My chip time would definitely be under 36:00. I could hardly believe it!

At that point, I had to concentrate really hard on not throwing up. Finishing Steamboat always makes me feel nauseated. It's the combination of the final sprint and the heat and humidity. It just doesn't do good things for one's stomach. But I managed to keep my Gatorade down and soon joined my friends. Some had achieved their goals, and others had not... but everyone had run the best race they could on that day. For that, I give high fives all around.

A little while later, I found out my actual chip time. 35:15. That was almost 5 minutes better than my previous best of 40:13. You bet I'm pleased with that! And you bet that next year, I want to be under 35:00!



Skirt Chaser 5k

I would love to write a report on this race... Unfortunately, I never got to run it. Thanks to the wonderful phenomenon of Illinois summer road construction, we simply couldn't make it to the race on time. We left our house at noon, thinking it would be plenty of time (after all, the trip to Chicago usually only takes 3.5 hours), but when the clock struck 5:00pm and we were still sitting in the car, at a standstill on I-90/94, we knew there was no hope of making it.

Instead, we went to Cafe Ba Ba Reeba and enjoyed tapas and sangria in air-conditioned comfort. It was a pretty good consolation. Okay, it was a really good consolation. *burp*

So I guess it was a good thing this wasn't the only race I had planned for the weekend. Doing triple-race weekends definitely has its pluses!


Warrior Dash Midwest

This race cannot be described with mere words. Instead, I will describe it with pictures and video. I ran (climbed, slid, jumped, crawled, slipped, etc) this event with my husband, and our friends Niki and Jeff. You'll see a lot of them in the video.

Emily and Niki, pre-Dash

I would like to point out that the fur was not moisture-wicking Dri-Fit. No, it was very, very hot and heavy. And so about three obstacles into the race, we shed our furry accessories and left them in the woods. People will probably just think they're dead animals. Dead polyester animals... And as a side note, I made those legwarmers myself. Yes, I am that crafty and awesome. I'll be taking your orders now.

And now, for footage from my helmet cam. That's right - for you, my dear readers, I donned a bicycle helmet with a video camera mounted on it in order to capture the true spirit of the Warrior Dash. Now, the camera was aimed a tad low, because I didn't fully take into consideration the fact that I would be looking at the ground a lot to find my footing. So I apologize for the excessive leg and butt shots. I swear it was unintentional. No really, I swear!




After the race, we took full advantage of the "shower area", which consisted of several big water tanker trucks with fire hoses attached, spraying ice-cold water onto the muddy masses. I do wish I had had enough video time left on my camera to capture that scene, but alas, I ran out (my Flip Mino HD camera only holds 60 minutes of video). Rest assured, it was amusing.

Emily and Niki, post-shower

It was almost worth signing up for the Warrior Dash for the awesome furry horned helmet they give all participants. And the finisher's medal was pretty cool too. The post-dash entertainment and food was also excellent, with entertainment consisting of a band on a huge stage, and people mud-wrestling on the ground. It was kind of like Woodstock.... but without the drugs. Although there was probably enough beer flowing to make up for it.

After I got really cleaned up and had a moment to really examine myself, I realized I actually got pretty banged up from this experience. My knees are scraped up all to heck, and I have an enormous bruise on the side of my knee. The scraped knees came from crawling on the ground and in the mud (there were a lot of rocks!). I haven't the foggiest idea where the bruise came from, though. You'd think I'd remember hitting my leg that hard... But then again, true warriors feel no pain during battle. YARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Peace. Love. Train.