Hydration Station

Well, it happened.  Someone finally talked some sense into my hydration plan.  Truthfully, not just one someone, but many.  So to all of you honest people who sent me hilariously poignant messages such as, "...buck up and join the waterless crowd," thank you!  I needed that swift kick in the shorts to get me thinking like a seasoned marathoner.

For three years, I relied heavily on my Camelbak.  It was big and clunky but I loved it.  My good running friend, Monica, joked it was my purse and she was so right.  I stuck all kinds of crap in that thing.

My husband Randall and I at the Denver Rock 'n Roll Half.  How do I have 40 oz of water and he carried nothing? 

Not only does it hold 6 pounds of water, but I stuffed money, keys, a phone, tampons, tissues, Gu, jelly beans, granola bars, band aids, and whatever else I could stuff into it.
 

Yup, I'm a dork.  I even wore my Camelbak for a 3.1 mile run during my first duathlon...

By the time I was loaded up and ready to run, I weighed an extra 12 pounds!

Finishing the Colfax Marathon last year.  Look how happy I am to take that thing off!

This year I decided to shed the extra weight and train only with a handheld water bottle, hoping it would make me faster.  I never once ran out of water and while I initially worried my arm would get tired of holding it, my arms got stronger.  Win-win.

After a 13 miler with only a hand-held and one Gu.  I survived as always.

However, for some reason the idea of carrying 3-4 Gu's and a full water bottle for 26.2 miles has really started to freak me out.  Plus, I will run out of water, so then what?  I've never used hydration stations at races before because:

1. They are so crowded.
2. It would slow me down.
3. I've heard of horror stories where the race directors didn't use potable sources of water and people got horribly sick after the race.  Gross.
4. Those darn cups are so hard to drink from, even if I pinch off the top, maybe one ounce of water actually makes it to my mouth.  
5. When I decide I'm thirsty, I want water.  NOW.  If I can't get water at that moment I focus on it and I panic.  I also don't want to risk dehydration.  That is an impossible hole to climb out of. 

Knowing I didn't want to use my Camelbak this year, I went to a popular running store here in Denver seeking advice.  They convinced me I needed a larger handheld water bottle and a fuel belt for my Gu.  Essentially a fuel belt is a small fanny pack that isn't supposed to bounce around too much.  But when I ran 12 tempo miles on Thursday, I kept thinking about my floppy new appendage.  Needless to say, I am not used to pendulous things on my mid-section.  While a fanny pack was totally cool in the 80s, I'm not sure I could make it work.  Focusing on that extra load ruined the first few miles of my run. 

So screw the fuel belt.  I can carry Gu in my shorts and the larger pocket of my water bottle.  That water will last me until 15 miles and somewhere along the halfway point-ish I hope to see my husband who can throw me another full bottle and additional Gu if needed.  I will also utilize the water stations, although numerous people warned me against the first 3 as they are often understocked and overcrowded.  Also, if the water bottle becomes too heavy and the water stations work out effectively, I can always toss my husband my water altogether to relieve the weight.

Why do I care about weight?  Well, first of all my arm gets tired holding 20 ounces of water for 4 hours.  And second, a friend of mine, who has run Boston 5 times posed this question, "You plan to BQ at some point right?  Have you ever seen a Boston Qualifier, or elite runner carrying something on their body or in their hands for 26.2 miles?"

"Um, no."  I frowned.

"That's because every little ounce truly matters for your overall time.  Even 5 ounces of weight can adversely effect your time."

"Yeah but I have lost 7 pounds in my training..."

"Think of this.  For every 10 pounds you loose, they say you also loose 8 minutes off your overall time for the same effort.  Sometimes a few ounces are the difference between a 3:35 and a 3:37.  While you may not have intended to loose weight, it will help you during the race.  Why would you load that extra effort back on needlessly?"

I've never given so much thought to weight before. Sure elites talk about their goal racing weight and I might too if I could actually run 4:30-5:00 miles for 26.2.  (Shoot if I could run that pace for a half a mile that would be cool.)  Every little bump in the road matters for them.  While I will never be an elite runner, I have worked really hard the last 5 months.  If I can push myself a little closer to the target with the same effort, I'm willing to try. 


~Roadburner

Mama Penguin

It is 2 days after the Highlands Ranch Half Marathon and I still couldn't run if a bear chased me!  It was a point-to-point downhill race.  With 1,000 feet of total elevation loss, I banked time in the first 6 miles, letting gravity push me down the hill at 7:30-8:00 miles.  Using gravity to push me down those steep grades felt like flying at the time, but getting up the next day made me feel like I jumped off a 10 story building and let gravity do its worst.  My legs, butt, back, arms, shoulders, and stomach all feel like I was hit by a city bus. 

My kids have aptly named me "Mama Penguin," over the last 48 hours.  I waddle like an Emperor Penguin and take nice slow steps wherever I go.

Stairs are my nemesis and I've been reduced to crawling up them slowly, belly down, grunting like an angry bird.  If I could install a slip 'n slide inside my house, I would slam the floor, belly down cruising from room to room, avoiding all contact with my legs for a week!

The idea of an ice bath has never looked so appealing!  I've never had to ice my legs this much after a race.

 
The race itself was a blast.  It was the inaugural year and of course there were some kinks that will need to be worked out: excessive waiting lines at the packet pick up, limited or no water for post two hour finishers, and a 10 minute delayed start, but overall it was very well managed.

I ran with 5 great friends.  We each ran our own race and met at the end for a good beer and constant laughs.

 

If you've never run a race with a group of friends, I highly recommend it!  Monica, my training partner, shopped for all of our race day throwaways at the local Savers and she found some treasures.  The race start alone, made everything worth it.  I haven't laughed that hard before a race, EVER!

Thank you Caitlin, who played volley ball in '05. 

I am not sure why any Grandma would have thrown out this invaluable purple valour jumper, but this women's medium sacrifice made my husband look great on race morning!

Throughout the race, we passed each other, cheered one another on, and took bets on who would bomb out first.  My husband finished first of our group in 1:46:43.

We waited for all 6 of us to cross the finish and each complained equally the next day about our unmatched sore muscles and nasty feet. 

While the race "hangover" left me swearing I would never run that hard again, I woke this morning proud of my new PR (1:53:40), and desperately trying to figure out how I can run the Denver Rock 'n Roll faster than my 8:40 average pace.

Colfax Marathon Mission Accomplished!

I ran 460 miles between January 1, and May 19; all those miles spent preparing for one 26.2 mile race.  Throughout the first 10 miles I smiled at the cameras, glowing ear to ear.  I earned this moment and I wanted to enjoy it. 

Sporting my $3.99 Goodwill "throwaways," which I didn't have the heart to throw away...

For months before the race, everyone asked me whether I had a goal time.  My answer was always simple.  NO.  I wanted to finish upright.  I didn't want to wallow in self-inflicted pain for weeks after the race.  I thought it plausible to finish under 4:30, based on all my training runs, but there would be no regret if that ideal was not reached.
 

My husband, Randall, and me 30 minutes before the start.

Race morning arrived much quicker than I anticipated and while I spent a whole week plagued with fear, questioning if my training would prove me ready, I woke rested.  I didn't want to start too fast, but we were tightly trapped within so many runners on narrow streets.  Adrenaline rushed through my body and I was euphoric. 

After running through the stadium.

By eight miles in, my spirits remained high.  We ran through the middle of Sports Authority Field at Mile High and came out one minute per mile faster than we started.  The energy of that empty stadium was ironic. 

Heading uphill after the stadium.

Two miles later, my knees started to ache and I felt a horrible cramp forming in my calf.  I knew it was from salt depletion and luckily my training partner, Monica, had a salt packet at the ready.  Salt helped, but I knew my knees were going to be sore and I couldn't maintain at the pace Monica wanted.  We were headed uphill and while the overall elevation gain was slight, nothing during a marathon feels slight.

We reached the halfway point and Monica tried to surge ahead.  A man behind me yelled out, "Hey Orange Team!  You guys are going too fast!"  He was obviously joking, but my legs agreed.  I was going too fast to be able to finish strong.  I needed to regroup. 

Ethan drew the two of us at the finish, then told his dad what to write.

Monica and I said all along we would train together and finish together.  At mile 10, I knew that wasn't realistic.  At mile 13, I knew it was impossible.  I pulled back reducing my speed to a 9:50 pace and felt tears welling in my eyes. I felt defeated.  We promised we would run together the entire way but I knew staying with her would only lead to regrets later as I couldn't continue at a 9:00 pace for the next 13.1 miles.  I would end up hurting myself, or holding back my friend's finishing potential.  Either way, I wouldn't be happy. 

At that moment, I learned a powerful lesson.  This was a journey I had to complete independently.  I couldn't worry about other people's pace or goals.  I had to be selfish.  I stopped running, pulled out my phone, sent my husband a Glympse (GPS tracking so he knew where I was on the course), strapped on my headphones and turned on my favorite running music.  I watched runners pass me around a corner and I waited until I couldn't see Monica's bright orange.  Knowing she would be great, I took a few moments to regroup and I started off again. 

By mile 15, we were headed back downhill and my legs felt strong.  Working at a comfortable 10:00 pace, I returned to nose breathing and enjoyed watching the buildings pass by.  Spectators read my name off my green bib and I was so grateful for their energy. 

My kids said our orange shirts and hats looked like tigers. 

I passed the 20 mile marker feeling good.  My legs were tired, but not finished.  I smiled as I ran through the next mile knowing I was actually going to make it.  I ran back through the football stadium and again, my energy was restored.  Miles 21 and 22 were solid.  I wasn't moving fast, but I was moving and proud of every step. 

Somewhere around 21 miles, another marathoner, wearing a bright yellow shirt stopped, looking destitute.  I patted her on the back softly, "Come on, we can do this!  I feel your pain!"  She smiled at me, and we ran together for the next mile and a half. 

As I rounded my way back up 17th Street and headed into the depths of Denver, the hills sadistically reappeared.  Relay runners, who divided the 26.2 mile stretch between 4-5 runners had fresh legs every few miles.  They charged up those hills, passing my exhausted limbs without mercy.  I glared at their gait and gave myself permission to walk up the remainder of the steep hill, about a quarter mile.

Again, spectators cheered me on, "Yes!  Keep moving!  You are doing it!  Go Jennifer, GO!"  I smiled, mouthed a breathy, "Thanks..." and began to run at the summit. 

Transitioning from running to walking and back again hurt.  I felt like my calves were going to explode and bleed out for the first few steps after each transition.  At mile 23, I walked through the water station and when I resumed running, I swore I was riding a bike.  Delirium took over as my arms moved ahead of me, steering my makeshift bicycle.  My legs pedaled in circles, close under my hips and I wondered who graced me with this beautiful machine. 

"HOLY CRAP!  Pull it together!  You are finishing, not loosing your mind!"  I quickly grabbed another Gu from my bag, sucked it back and decided to not walk another step.  If I walked, I wouldn't finish.  "Run, just run. Don't stop. Just run."  My legs were in "go" mode and walking confused them. 

First sight of my husband at the finish line.  All the feelings of pain and exhaustion vanished.

26 miles down, and I could hear the finish line.  I couldn't see it.  But I heard it.  I wanted to stop but that would be pointless.  Once the actual finish line came into view, I charged forward.  My pace increased and I saw Randall and Mark, Monica's husband, standing there smiling and cheering.  Pride ran through my veins.  I threw my arms up in victory and crossed the line in 4:25:17.

"I did it!  I freaking did it!" played through my head like a broken record.

A firefighter put my medal around my neck and I waddled to food.  Monica intercepted me there and the sight of her brought all the emotions that welled inside me for the last 10 miles to the front. 

I was so tired, I forgot to pick up food at the stations along the way.

Relief and exhaustion.  Well earned!

I cried in relief, pain, happiness, and pride.  From mile 17, every spectator that called my name and every time I thought about finishing, my eyes blurred with faint tears.  "Hold it together, Jen.  Hold it together."  Once I finished, I had nothing left.  The race stripped me bare and all that was left was raw emotion. 

Emotions welled at the finish. 

Monica and I hugged for a long time.  I was so proud of us.  We each ran our own race, but worked together to get there.  I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. 

I never drink soda.  But throughout training, I dreamed of an ice cold Pepsi after a long run.  Randall had one waiting for me at the finish line, along with his flannel.

A Year in Review

I've been running for over four years now.  However, this is the first year that I started racing.  I remember cheering my husband on at his first 5K over five years ago thinking, "He is crazy.  Who runs that far to see how fast they can go, and then try to run it faster next time?"  I didn't understand the adrenaline and commitment.  It isn't always about winning, it is about dedicating yourself to an experience and laying everything on the table.  When you pin on that bib, you can't lie about how fast you are or how hard you trained.

March

• Highlands Ranch St. Patty's Day 5K (March 17) - I didn't run this race for time, which I regret.  Had I speed trained, I know I could have posted a better time as the course only has one real hill.  I remember crossing the finish line thinking, "Really, are we done already?"  That was a hallmark sign of not pushing hard enough.  I would love another go at this race to obliterate my previous time. (30:30)

 April

• Highlands Ranch Highland Heritage Adventure 10K (April 7) - I'd never raced 10K before, and honestly never ran any single track trails.  The initial hill climb measuring between 6-9% grades for a mile made me think of walking from the gate.  I didn't walk though, and while I am sure I could run faster if I had the opportunity to run it again today, I was proud of my 62:05 time.  I plan to toe the line next April, as I now run the Backcountry trails weekly.  (62:05) 

May

• Barking Dog Duathlon (May 12) - I heaved my giant Trek Mountain Bike from the back of my husband's Subaru at 5:00 in the morning while I watched other competitors pull their bikes from their cars with one hand.  I felt like a complete underdog and hoped nobody would laugh at my bike.  What astounded me was how friendly the other racers were.  Men with rocket bikes and time trial helmets were just as pleasant and helpful as race volunteers.  Halfway through the bike ride, a man passed me on his time trial bike, weighing 5 pounds at the very most and traveling over 30 mph.  He told me I was in the lead of the other fat tire racers, "keep it up," he said, "you're killing 'em!"  I can't describe the boost that gave my depleted energy.  I took first for the Fat Tire division, beating the men by over 10:00 and the women by 15:00.  The culture at duathlons is unmatched and the friends I made this year kept me coming back for the series. (2K 15K 5K - 1:15:50)

June

• Big Sky Duathlon (June 9) - This was my first race on a triathlon bike.  In fact, I never rode this bike before June 8.  My biking speed went from an average of 14.4 mph on a fairly flat course at Barking Dog, to 17.7 mph of rolling hills at Big Sky.  The bike ride was over 6 miles longer than the previous race and my legs were jelly by the time we were done.  I focus too much of my energy on running when I train for duathlons.  Next year, I need to place more emphasis on biking hills.  Once I I crossed that finish line,  I knew what exhausted felt like.  I wasn't ready to race again for a few weeks, but it felt good to push through a wall and finish 3rd in my division. (4K 25K 4K - 1:35:22)

 July

• Highlands Ranch Independence Day 5K (July 4) - This was the hottest and most unbearable race I ran all year.  I didn't enjoy it.  I was weakened by a horrible stomach flu the week before and the hills were so much harder than I expected.  I started out too fast and sadly, when I saw the finish line 300 meters ahead, I was too exhausted to finish strong and I walked for a few feet.  I finished at 25:03, which wasn't a bad time, but I trained for better.  I have no desire to run this race next year.  Instead, I plan to find a nice place in the shade, cheer on the spirited runners, and enjoy the parade with my boys. (25:03)

September

• Denver Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon (September 22) - I loved this race with all of my heart.  It was by far the most fun I had racing this year.  I will rock Denver next year, not for the music but for the great course and hopefully a new PR. (2:01:49)

• West Side Duathlon (September 30) - One week after running the Denver Half, I took first in my division at West Side.  The bike portion of the course tours a part of HWY 93 between Golden and Boulder.  I've driven this route numerous times while visiting Randall in college and later when I attended CU Boulder, but I gained a new respect for those hills while taking them down on a bike.  (2.4K 15K 5K - 1:15:59)

October

• Boulder Half Marathon (October 21) - I consider this race the worst of the season and I wouldn't accept any amount of money to run this again.  The water and food at the finish line was almost non existent, water stations along the course were under stocked, and the starting line wasn't corralled, which messed up most runner's finishing times.  It took a while to get over the disappointment of this race.  I sounds silly to take a race so personally, but when I run, I put everything into that race.  I want to prove what I can accomplish, and how far I have come through hours and hundreds of miles of training.  If I don't post a good time because of my own failings that is one thing, but to be held back because of poor race direction is truly unacceptable.  (2:01:57)

November

• Highlands Ranch Backcountry Wilderness Half Marathon (November 10) - I need another crack at this race!  I loved the terrain, the challenging hills, the amazing runners, and completing another half with my husband.  Trail running doesn't seem as monotonous as road running.  I find myself 3 miles into the run and not remembering how I got to that point because I was so lost in thought.  That rarely happens for me on the roads.  Since April, I've made trail running a consistent part of my training because it pushes my aerobic capacity to new levels, and it is so much more fun.  I feel like a gazelle bounding over the rollers.  This race was well organized and the runners' energy on a freezing cold morning kept our spirits high.  This trail race was a nice refocusing run after Boulder. (2:07:55)

December

• Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon (December 1) - My mind needed this weekend away from my kids more than I initially thought.  It was freeing to sleep for the first time without a monitor blaring next to my head, and eat some great food while it was still hot.  I didn't have to wait on my kids for a few days or clean up any messes.  It was just a good friend and me taking it easy.  My body, on the other hand, was exhausted from five major races in only 10 weeks.  I came face-to-face with that reality at mile 9.  I will plan out the timing of my half marathons and duathlons better next year.  They were formidable distances that pounded my body.  Each race, I felt slightly less energized at the start and knew I hadn't left ample time to heal. Even though I didn't post a new personal record as I'd hoped, I will always consider Vegas one of my favorite racing venues.  Running the strip at night, with my friend Monica, was an unexpected highlight of 2012. (2:02:05)

From my first 5K, to my fourth half marathon in 2012, I changed as a runner and a competitor.  My training plans became more complicated as my addiction to posting faster times increased.  There are 6 races I would love to try again in 2013: St. Patty's Day 5K, Barking Dog Duathlon, Big Sky Duathlon, West Side Duathlon, Denver Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon, and Wilderness Backcountry Half Marathon.  Maybe some strength and speed training will reduce my times, but more importantly, I am excited to try some new courses, meet new people and see where this sport takes me.