It's been a couple weeks since the 2017 Pittsburgh Marathon. I did participate in the Half Marathon. I had every reason to have just stayed home. I don't think I put in even 100 miles of training. The miles I did put in were rarely fun; they were painful and slow. Don't get me wrong...fast or slow or somewhere in between--all miles. For me and the pace I was running, it was (and is) slow. It's been tough to accept, yet, expected. I put on a lot of weight, I am about as active as a sloth (actually, that's probably insulting to sloths; they are more active), and I just have not managed to get myself together.
Before this becomes some sort of "woe is me" kind of post, back to the race. It was supposed to be cool (like 40s) with a possibility of some early rain. The weather has been more than a little schizophrenic as late, so it's good I opted to wear a tank under a long sleeve shirt. I opted to do run-walk intervals. It helped the last few weeks of training to not be as sore and I was better able to slog through the miles. As always in a crowd of people, I started out too fast. Throughout, I panicked over being picked up by a sweep crew. The minimum average pace was to be 13:00 meaning, only two hours to finish the half. Given my training pace (14:30 / 15:00), you can certainly appreciate why. Anyway, I made it the first few miles. Heading to the North Side of town is a big hill and it (expectedly) SUCKED. I made it through those miles, remembering those same streets with my training partner.
At one point, a woman tripped and fell into me. I sort of caught her and she seemed really embarrassed and kept apologizing. I wish I'd thought to look at her bib # or name. I really hope she finished and did well. I told her not to apologize since I much rather her fall into me than the ground and I just wanted to be sure she was OK. That very well was my "feel good" moment of the race. I kept someone from getting hurt and we all kept moving forward. Not much after, the sun (yeah...so much for overcast skies) was too much. It took me two walk intervals to transfer the pins from my outer shirt to my tank. But I did it and managed to get my shirt over my head without losing my hat. You know what is awesome about being part of a great running community? Not caring one lick about being overweight in an unflattering orange tank!
Around mile 9, I was over the whole dam thing. Even being mostly downhill, I didn't give a crap. I was still moving, but started to swap my longer run interval with the shorter walk interval. Still moving, still ahead of the sweep. On the South Side, people were handing out beer samples. I have a hard time drinking water when I run; beer was not gonna happen. (Besides, I had flashbacks to the 10-miler where I really thought I was going to be sick on my way home.) There was a wonderfully, saint of a woman who had a box of orange wedges. Oh how I loved that dear, sweet lady. I have no idea what she looked like or who she was, but it was the most delicious piece of fruit. And it had to be magical because oranges do not always agree with me.
I finally made it to the Birmingham Bridge (where the half and full participants split). At that point, there were about three miles to go and I seriously contemplated walking to the finish. Sweep be damned! Along the trek across that God-forsaken bridge there was a runner's wedding taking place. I like to think there is something special about that bridge and running that spurred the couple to choose the time and place for their nuptials. Just past the end of the bridge, my training partner caught me. Oh was I happy to see a familiar and friendly face.
Mile 12 saw a police officer not half a block away from a group handing out beer. Someone must have been questioning if it was OK because I heard the Officer say something to the effect of "You just ran 12 miles, Ladies, you deserve a beer." That gave me chuckle. From there on, my friend pretty much dragged me to the finish. I was (and am) so happy I got to be there as he crossed for a PR. He trained and so deserved it. I do feel bad, though, because I think he could have made it a little faster if he'd just kept going.
I think I walked another two miles just to get to my car. Every step hurt and I had to consciously step off of every curb. Finally made it home and, soreness aside, felt good. I came home to my girls holding up a toilet paper "finish line" for me to cross and signs. I think my favorite is the one my husband drew. He may never figure out why I rum and may get cranky at some of the early mornings, but he cares and shows his support when I need it most.
Thankfully, no soccer games that day, so I only had to make it through a hockey practice. Oh my gosh, sitting in the bleachers with flip-flops at a cold rink was like heaven. Who needs ice baths and such, when you have an hour at a cold rink?! I should have taken the following day off or at least opted to work from home, but, I didn't. It hurt for my feet to touch the ground, let alone real shoes, but I survived and was walking normally after a couple days.
Will I do it again? I'm sure I will, but not sure if it will be 2018. Right now, I'm sort of in a state of chaos and having the awareness that I need to do something to tame it. Until then....I have really got to get some projects done!
Before this becomes some sort of "woe is me" kind of post, back to the race. It was supposed to be cool (like 40s) with a possibility of some early rain. The weather has been more than a little schizophrenic as late, so it's good I opted to wear a tank under a long sleeve shirt. I opted to do run-walk intervals. It helped the last few weeks of training to not be as sore and I was better able to slog through the miles. As always in a crowd of people, I started out too fast. Throughout, I panicked over being picked up by a sweep crew. The minimum average pace was to be 13:00 meaning, only two hours to finish the half. Given my training pace (14:30 / 15:00), you can certainly appreciate why. Anyway, I made it the first few miles. Heading to the North Side of town is a big hill and it (expectedly) SUCKED. I made it through those miles, remembering those same streets with my training partner.
At one point, a woman tripped and fell into me. I sort of caught her and she seemed really embarrassed and kept apologizing. I wish I'd thought to look at her bib # or name. I really hope she finished and did well. I told her not to apologize since I much rather her fall into me than the ground and I just wanted to be sure she was OK. That very well was my "feel good" moment of the race. I kept someone from getting hurt and we all kept moving forward. Not much after, the sun (yeah...so much for overcast skies) was too much. It took me two walk intervals to transfer the pins from my outer shirt to my tank. But I did it and managed to get my shirt over my head without losing my hat. You know what is awesome about being part of a great running community? Not caring one lick about being overweight in an unflattering orange tank!
Around mile 9, I was over the whole dam thing. Even being mostly downhill, I didn't give a crap. I was still moving, but started to swap my longer run interval with the shorter walk interval. Still moving, still ahead of the sweep. On the South Side, people were handing out beer samples. I have a hard time drinking water when I run; beer was not gonna happen. (Besides, I had flashbacks to the 10-miler where I really thought I was going to be sick on my way home.) There was a wonderfully, saint of a woman who had a box of orange wedges. Oh how I loved that dear, sweet lady. I have no idea what she looked like or who she was, but it was the most delicious piece of fruit. And it had to be magical because oranges do not always agree with me.
I finally made it to the Birmingham Bridge (where the half and full participants split). At that point, there were about three miles to go and I seriously contemplated walking to the finish. Sweep be damned! Along the trek across that God-forsaken bridge there was a runner's wedding taking place. I like to think there is something special about that bridge and running that spurred the couple to choose the time and place for their nuptials. Just past the end of the bridge, my training partner caught me. Oh was I happy to see a familiar and friendly face.
Mile 12 saw a police officer not half a block away from a group handing out beer. Someone must have been questioning if it was OK because I heard the Officer say something to the effect of "You just ran 12 miles, Ladies, you deserve a beer." That gave me chuckle. From there on, my friend pretty much dragged me to the finish. I was (and am) so happy I got to be there as he crossed for a PR. He trained and so deserved it. I do feel bad, though, because I think he could have made it a little faster if he'd just kept going.
I think I walked another two miles just to get to my car. Every step hurt and I had to consciously step off of every curb. Finally made it home and, soreness aside, felt good. I came home to my girls holding up a toilet paper "finish line" for me to cross and signs. I think my favorite is the one my husband drew. He may never figure out why I rum and may get cranky at some of the early mornings, but he cares and shows his support when I need it most.
Will I do it again? I'm sure I will, but not sure if it will be 2018. Right now, I'm sort of in a state of chaos and having the awareness that I need to do something to tame it. Until then....I have really got to get some projects done!
