Just One Marathon

Discomfort: A Simple Equation

One long run in hot weather + a sleeveless running top = a wicked case of pit burn.

Pit burn is my term for heat rash under the armpits. Don't worry, I won't post pictures. It lasts for days, and while it's certainly not the worst pain in the world, that hasn't stopped me from complaining incessantly and showing my armpits to anyone who will look (and even a few people who won't).

Luckily for the viewing public, I've been on vacation this week, so there haven't been a lot of opportunities to flash my pits. This year we are `stay-cationing` -- just hanging around, doing stuff locally, taking short trips and remembering how much our kitchen reno cost. The stay-cation has been great for my running routine. Tomorrow, The Runner I Married and I will run a 5K race. While I'm not fool-hardy enough to set 25 minutes as my goal, I'm definitely aiming to break 26 minutes. We'll see.

The Real Walk of Shame

So there I was on Sunday morning, in a strange city, slinking home wearing my short shorts, bright pink halter top and shoes that (I hope) make me look like a fast woman.

Yup, I was doing the walk of shame.But not the one you’re thinking of, pervy reader! Get your minds out of the gutter (and away from the hyperlinks)!! Nah, I was doing the runner’s walk of shame – you know, the one where you start out speedy and full of hope on a long run and end up exhausted and beat, walking it in, hoping you don’t run into anyone you know.

I have no one to blame but myself. Our family was in Montreal on the weekend. And even though I knew my Sunday morning run would take me further than I’ve gone in months, I basically spent Saturday carousing -- shopping, eating rich food, drinking wine, neglecting my hydration and staying up late. I didn’t act like a person planning to run 24K the next morning. And guess what? I wasn’t a person who ran 24K the next morning. I ran 12 good kilometres, 10 more slow ones, and then walked the final 2. And I only walked because I couldn’t find a cab. I wasn’t injured -- I just felt tired beyond belief.  

It was very discouraging. The only positive was the enjoyable route I took along the Lachine Canal pathway. I got to see some very cool parts of the beautiful, vibrant, diverse and historical city of Montreal. What an amazing place for a terrible run.  

Yay, me

I haven’t skipped a run since I started training for the Wineglass marathon. That’s quite an accomplishment for someone who skipped close to a third of her scheduled runs leading up her last half-marathon just seven weeks ago.

 

Why? Well, the fact that I’ve got a new, inspiring goal is probably part of it. Having an awesome coach certainly helps, too.

 

But the bottom line is this: the marathon distance terrifies me. I have only run 42.2 kilometres once in my life, and I’ve run more than 30K maybe a handful more times. If I start missing training runs through the week, I worry that my long Sunday runs will become little more than an endless forced march through the land of muscle pain and gastro-intestinal discomfort. That’s not fun. And running should – at least intermittently – be fun.

Grey Matters

We interrupt my regularly scheduled running blog to bring you a discussion on a topic of great significance – at least in my life. My hair.

 

Here’s the thing. My hair started turning grey when I was in my 20s. But for the longest time, the only people who knew were me and my hairdresser. Eventually, though, the white-to-dark ratio shifted significantly enough that I was no longer a brown-haired woman with a sprinkle of grey, but a silver-haired woman with a few strands of brown. After that, maintaining the illusion that my hair was a glossy chestnut brown became an expensive and laborious process.

 

Still, I hesitated to go grey. White-haired people are older, wiser and more mature. And I only meet the first of those three criteria. On the other hand, I’ve definitely gotten cheaper, more time-stressed and less concerned about what people think. So, I took the plunge.

 

I’ve been grey for about six months, and it’s taken a bit of getting used to.  Overall, the response has been extremely positive. People like grey hair – on other people. Friends and colleagues compliment my new look – and then explain why they could never do it themselves. I understand their mixed reaction. I have it, too, every once in a while, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, or when I see a race photo like this:

 

 
  
I think, wow, is that me? What happened?! Didn’t I used to look like this?

 

 
  
On the whole, though, I love the new, white-haired Reluctant Runner. It’s kind of fun to be a little different. It’s very empowering to embrace who I really am. And it’s super cheap and easy. But y’know what would make really me happy? If grey-locks RR could beat some of brunette RR’s race times. Then I’d feel young again.

Sigh.

 Here are three reasons I should not to be depressed that I didn’t even come close to running this morning’s Canada Day 5K in 25 minutes.

1. It’s unpatriotic. Standing at the start line, listening to “O Canada” while watching the maple leaf snap briskly atop the Parliament Buildings, I felt pretty darned lucky to live here.* Our country is peaceful, we have many freedoms (which we vigorously exercised during the G8/G20 summits in Toronto last week ) and Ottawa is beautiful. I’m not a flag-waving kind of person, but you’d have to be made of stone not to feel proud.

2. It's unrealistic. My goal was wildly ambitious. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short running career, it’s that there are no race day miracles – at least for me. Any time I’ve achieved a really outstanding finish time, it was because I worked really hard to achieve it. I’ve been stepping up my effort in the last month, by adding speed training, incorporating some core strength activities in my routine and religiously keeping to my running schedule. And it showed. I just about matched the 5K PR I achieved two years ago after running a marathon and then pursing a “summer of speed” training schedule. I think I can get faster, and I look forward to trying. But obviously, I’m not there yet.

3. It’s boring. Let’s face it. There’s a limit to how long The Runner I Married -- or anyone else -- can listen to me obsess about why I didn’t run 75 seconds faster. And believe me, I can obsess. In fact, for the first time ever, I really psyched myself out at the beginning of a race. For the first few hundred metres, my heart was pounding and I was struck by a case of the jelly-legs. I shot away from the starting line running at  4:25/km,  saw my pace fluctuate wildly all along the hilly course and never really found my stride. Tons of people passed me, a sure sign that I’d started out too fast.

See, there I go, obsessing. (And you’re still reading – thanks!) But it’s a beautiful day, I’m enjoying a four day weekend, and this morning is history. Time to think about tomorrow’s run.

Finish Time: 26:14

Pace: 5:15

Category place: 5/34 (Pretty impressive for moi, although it’s really just a matter of who showed up this morning. Still. Shred of dignity and all that.)

Funny, I thought my previous PR was 26:40, but The Runner I Married reminded me that we both ran a super fast 5K in Prince Edward Island two years ago. My time that day was 26:10.  He also achieved a PR in PEI. His finish time this morning was 21:18 – pretty damned speedy.

 * An interesting footnote: I was the only runner in earshot singing along with the Canadian anthem. On Canada Day. In the Nation’s Capital. With the Canadian flag waving over blue skies. What gives?  Maybe we can’t remember the lyrics if there’s not a hockey team in front of us?