Oh Everest, My Everest

Clock Time: 2:46:00
Chip Time: 2:43:43
Average Pace: 12:30 min/mi

Today was a lot of fun! Despite my adventures in getting to Fredericksburg when the cops decided to shut down southbound 295 six miles before I could get to the beltway and the being completely disoriented in DC, I ran a great race today. As always, it could have been better. The last three miles left something to be desired, and it figures because that was when my merry group of Marines (or former Marines? or Marine Corps base staff?) disbanded as the two nice ladies got a surge of energy and the man with all the moto cadence lost his and dropped back.

My legs hurt something fierce, too. I think the muscles actually hurt more than they did during either of the two full marathons. Luckily, the joints were okay. I've had more knee and hip joint pain during most of last years training runs over 6 miles than I did today, so that's a good sign. I brought my fuel belt with me, too, so I could avoid the swollen hands I got at Frederick. Still, they swelled at around mile 9! I don't know what the heck is going on, but I want to figure it out fast. Ever since I started running a little faster, most of the noticeable changes have been positive (notably the vanishing joint pain), but I don't like where this is headed with the swollen hands. I brought a good amount of water, gatorade and GU that should have taken care of all my needs, but nothing fixed it until I stopped running, chugged so much water that I could barely walk and stretched. It's hard to believe that it was a lack of water since I was toting around a heavy, swooshing belly of it for the last 4 miles. I wonder if swollen hands may just be a signal that my body has had it (since I didn't really train) and any sort of strenuous activity does that as I reach my wall.

The annoying part is that they don't necessarily hurt (not unless I keep stretching out my fingers and squeezing them into fists), but that swelling is usually a sign for something that is wrong. Everything else feels okay to me. I am not doing a very good job of explaining it, but there is something terribly unsettling about having swollen hands. It's even more unsettling because my feet didn't swell today, and they at least matched when my hands swelled up in Columbia, LA, and Frederick. But there was no hint of the tingly feet today and almost no signs on the old tootsies that I did anything special today at all. So what's the deal with my hands?!

I'm hoping that this problem goes away as I become more responsible and start putting the miles in the bank at this new pace. This could all possibly be explained by the fact that I am only running maybe once a week and in long races, no less. But I may bring a packet of salt with me on the next long run to see if that's the issue.

On a separate note, the staff is taking forever to put up the results and I was too busy trying to pass people at the end to look at the race clock. I have NO idea what my time was since I'm still leaving the Garmin at home for all runs that are timed for me. Was it a PR (felt like it)? By how much? Or am I delusional? I'm hopeful I'll know something tomorrow. Sitting here refreshing my browser on the results page isn't going to make them post it sooner.

EDIT: The results are in, just not on the official race site. New PR, by just shy of two minutes!! I hope to match that at Riley's this year and maybe destroy it at Baltimore if nothing goes wrong.

Labels: blue powerade, GU, red gatorade, sport beans, swollen hands

Chip Time: 2:50:08
Average Pace: 12:59 min/mi

After driving 5 hours to a wedding in PA and then driving 3 hours back to MD to crash at a Holiday Inn late Saturday night, I rose reluctantly at 0500 to run in the Frederick Running Festival very early Sunday morning. Didn't sleep a lick, thanks to my vampire schedule, but I've done it before right? It's like what Shackleton used to say to his men during trying times in their Antarctic adventures: what I've done once, I can do a second time with no problem. (It was a lie when he said it, too.)

At this point, I have an apology for all the women to whom I've not shown proper sympathy during a run. I have experienced running during my special woman time before, and I never understood what was so awful about it. Sure, it was a bit uncomfortable, but not enough to complain as much as those other women seemed to do. I sure learned a lesson this week about the difference between it being your special woman time and the day (or first moments and hours) your special woman time begins. I learned because that special time came about 50 yards after I started the race, and I was not happy about it.

After suffering through two miles, I really thought I wasn't going to finish the race. I just did NOT care about anything except for crawling under a rock in the fetal position until my body decided to go back to normal. A Marine passed and encouraged me on sometime in the next mile, and I still didn't care. Well, that's not true. I cared enough to keep running until he disappeared from sight, but not enough to mentally commit to the rest of the race. I could always stop in a little while. My hands were already starting to swell up because the fluids were not staying in my bloodstream but instead having a party in all the tissue surrounding my reproductive system.

Somehow, though a series of distractions and distortions of my face, I made it to mile 6. It started to feel like a shame not to finish after going that far. I trudged through miles 7, 8 and 9. Around mile 10, the awful cramps of death returned and my swollen hands started to really hurt. I started taking extended walk breaks. By mile 12, I figured the HELL with it. I could just walk the rest of the way.

Then of course a very nice lady came up behind me and asked me to help her run the rest of the way. She said I gave her energy and I pretended I did because she was sure doing a great job of distracting me and she was a very nice lady to talk to! Nearing the fairgrounds, she thanked me and sent me off ahead of her to finish strong. Samwise appeared with some typically aggravating words of motivation shortly afterward. I gave him a kind shove and worked up to a sprint to end my suffering.

In the end, I still averaged a 13:00-min mile. It's slightly astounding to me, but I'm just trying not to think of that day too much. I'm just glad it's over. And now that I am done with my race report, I can officially let my brain bury that memory deep, deep down where I never have to think about it again!

Labels: curse of womanhood, Frederick, half marathon, race, swollen hands