The allure of a race

I had a nice leisurely morning this morning.  There was no docket to be at so I was able to put on some running clothes and go for a run this morning (alone, without Sam's dog...oh, the joy of running solo without Barni) after the girls went to school.  What a beautiful morning too.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and it was warm (which I am not really a fan of, running while it's warm, but it was wonderful.  

Now, as I sit in my office, working (for the most part) I find myself looking at the racecenter.com race calendar because a couple weekends have gone by and I am ahead of schedule with my training for a half-marathon I was planning to enter May 18, the Keizer Iris Festival Half-Marathon.  I just ran 9 miles two-weekends ago.  Therefore, I am feeling like I could probably enter a half-marathon now and be ready to go.  Granted, that's a bit ahead of schedule, but I don't think it's unmanageable.  Then, when I look at the calendar, it's almost like shopping.  Your palms get a little sweaty at the idea of entering that perfect race (at the right price...that is always a factor).  I think I found one.  The Oregon Spring Half in Aurora, May 3.  You click on the event website and learn as much as you can about that particular race.  Is this really a good idea?  Should I really enter this race?  Am I really prepared to run 13.1 miles this weekend in Aurora?  On one shoulder is a pair of talking running shoes saying "yes, you should do it" and on the other shoulder is your jammies and pillow and bed saying, "ugh, stay here and sleep in, you know you want to".  Both incredibly valid points and both incredibly true.  

Why do you draw me in so, race calendar?  What I really need is a race May 10th, the following weekend.  Of course however, when I look for a race that weekend there is no half-marathon within a reasonable distance from my home on the calendar.  Therefore, I am left to the race I have already slated to enter May 18.  I just wanted to enter another one too (can you hear the sadness and disappointment in my voice...imagine a small whiny child...I hear that sound daily).  The Oregon Spring Half is in Aurora.  The event website said it is a flat course too.  I bet it would have been pretty picturesque.  It's at St. Josef's Winery, not that I am familiar with that, but where wineries are located tend to be beautiful.  Hmm, lets click on registration information...Ouch, the registration fee is $75!  Well, there goes the allure and draw of that half-marathon.  Amazing how those jammies and pillow won out so easily.  I will still go out for a run this weekend.  A FREE, self-directed, 11-mile training run for the half-marathon I have coming up May 18 in Keizer (which, I actually need to enter...mental note to self...do that pronto: $50).  The allure of entering another race was foiled by budgetary concerns.  My palms are no longer sweaty...back to work.

Why does my elbow hurt???

All day today, I kept wondering why my elbow was hurting.  I rubbed my elbow thinking, dang, that really hurts, I can't even think what happened.  In the car on the way home, I was thinking I can't wait to get this jacket off to take a look at my elbow to see if there is a bruise or something.  Then of course, something else comes up and then it slips my mind.  But, eventually, my mom brought my girls home and I was chatting with Eytan who said something about having a bruise somewhere and that reminded me of my bruise.  At that point Sam was home and now as a family, we could compare owwees. I told Sam my elbow had been hurting all day and I couldn't think of why.  Sam asked if I blamed Barni (his dog).  Which, strangely I hadn't even thought to blame Barni --even though I usually do blame her because she grates my nerves and is the source of much angst in my life.  Uh, hmm, let me think this through now that you raise the issue.

This weekend, I did go running with Barni.  Barni, a dane-lab mix, who is not quite a year-old, and full of puppy energy, needs a lot of exercise and time playing to tire her out so she is bearable in the house.  Otherwise there is the constant threat that my foot will be up her tuchus.  All the time when I am about to go for a run Sam says, "are you going take Barni?"  I usually succumb to his request and ultimately take her with me, even though I do not want to.  She is a relatively good running dog, but just not with me.  Every time I have gone running with Barni lately, the B (take it however you so choose, but she is a female dog, so it's not necessarily pejorative to call her a bitch, it is accurate...in multiple ways)...but, Barni has effing tripped me.

Trip #1:  I went running with Barni and we were near the golf course on 28th across from Reed College.  I was looking straight ahead as I generally do, it was a slight uphill.  Barni, following her lab instinct (look a squirrel/duck/goose/bird/leaf, it-moved-I must-go-for-it instinct), or dane goofiness (should I run over here, or over there?) or puppy can't focus on anything, ran in my path causing me to trip and fall forward over her, tripping on my wrist and scraping my knee and palms of my hands.  After I got up, I was so flipping angry at the bitch, I wanted her to die and get run over by a truck.  No such luck.  And, the leash was still around my wrist so I would have had to undo the wrapping of the leash from around my wrist to save myself to sacrifice her, believe me, I could have done it if the opportunity had presented itself.  I was that pissed.  Once I got up, I felt horrible.  I'm not a crier, but I felt like crying it hurt so badly.  I was able to pull it together and a few moments later, managed to run again.  I remember thinking my elbow is killing me for several more miles because after I fell, I had rolled onto my elbow.  I thought I may have seriously injured my elbow.  It wasn't until I got home that I even noticed my wrist was a bloody, road rash mess.  Now, it has healed and looks like some horrible bruise and I am scarred for life courtesy of Sam's bitch.  Sam asked me afterwards if Barni looked remorseful.  Seriously, how does a dog look remorseful?  Oy.

Trip #2:  Once again, about to go for a run, Sam asked me if I was going to take Barni.  Fine, against my better judgment, I will take her.  Really, I take her to spare my kids from Barni acting crazy if she were left at home with them.  We were going on a weekend run along the Springwater Corridor.  This trip, was an incomplete trip.  We were crossing the foot bridge that crosses McGloughlin Boulevard.  Once again, Barni can't look forward and zig-zags when she runs with me and she got tangled up with me feet from behind causing me to lose my balance.  This time I did not trip, but I did lose my balance.  I was able to catch myself, but I could completely envision what could/would have happened if I had fallen.  We were right by all the steel and concrete footings and supports on the bridge.  I kept imagining falling and hitting my teeth or face on the bridge and needing reconstructive surgery.  Damn you dog!  I told Sam when I got home, that this was the last time.  No more, I am done running with that dog.  Barni is intentionally trying to trip me so I am not going to take her running with me again.  Sam, ever the supporter of all things Barni, questioned "do you really think Barni has the ability to intentionally try to trip you?"  Generally speaking, I don't think dogs have that higher brain function to be manipulative or to intentionally cause harm to another, however, after these two trips I am beginning to think that Barni is capable.  Partly because she hears me saying how much I want her gone, she uses the runs I take her on as her opportunity to get back at me.  Crazy sounding, I realize, but I think I am on to something.

Trip #3:  This weekend, my last and final run with the bitch.  As I head out and give the girls kisses, queue up my music and out the door.  On the agenda is 9 miles and I'm planning on heading toward Lloyd Center.  All is going well.  Pace is feeling good.  I do hate having to stop for traffic lights, but other than that, it's feeling pretty good.  I'm almost done and a little over 8 miles down and that's when she decided to stick it to me.  Barni tripped me, once again, and this time I fell onto a parked car.  I did not hit the ground at all but hit the car and rolled over it slightly.  Again, I cursed the dog and everything about her.  But, I also am too uptight about my pace to stop so I continued running for another mile to my house at which point I tell Sam his bitch tripped me and that I am no longer taking her running with me: I'm done!

So when I complain about my elbow hurting, it dons on me that the pain is from rolling on that parked car after Barni tripped me.  Yes, I should have blamed Barni for my elbow pain because she is completely to blame.

When will the misery end?

Oh where to begin?  I've had, what has felt like some really bad, demoralizing runs this week.  They were shorter mid-week runs.  It's amazing after going on a long weekend run which feels great and you feel like there is no place to go but up from there, right?  Then you go on a short mid-week run and for me this past week it felt like I was carrying bags of sand with me.  The entire run just felt heavy and sluggish.  I was pushing myself but just felt like even the first mile was a struggle.  Usually, after the first mile things get into a grove and I feel better and I can really start moving, but I never felt that way.  I found myself contemplating walking the entire way (and I would have if I just didn't take so long...I am impatient).  Then on my second mid-week run, the same thing.  I was planning on going out for five miles.  By the time I had finished the first 1.5 miles I wasn't feeling my grove  yet...grrr.  I thought I had done things right since two days prior.  I had hydrated, I hadn't eaten in several hours, this shouldn't be happening.  I started off at a good pace, not too fast things should have felt great, right?  Well, it wasn't.  I actually started experiencing a tightness in my left calf and shin early on, which was highly unusual for me.  I never experience that type of discomfort.  I decided to ignore it and continue on figuring it would go away and loosen up.  That did get better but the entire run didn't feel good.  I ran through the same neighborhoods that I have run through in the past.  I thought, should I run through that neighborhood where I fell and scraped up my knee and hand?  The spot that has the jacked up street?  The street that makes me angry at our effing Mayor (why can't you fix our damn streets?  Didn't you claim during your campaigning that this was easy ... remember Candidates Gone Wild?  I do.)?  Perhaps not, because a run should be relaxing but that does make me think so that is what a run is for as well, to provoke thoughts.  At any rate, this did ease my discomfort and misery in how I was feeling currently because it shifted my focus, albeit temporarily.  I was running up a slight hill on Clinton which strangely made my tight calf feel better.  It was raining ... or maybe it was showers.  What's the difference between rain and showers?  You're wet for both.  At any rate.  I tend to run on the street and a young woman ran, quite swiftly, past me the opposite direction, on the sidewalk - she appeared to be a teenager.  At any rate, she was not a communicator.  I looked in her direction: nothing.  That's kewl.  I'll keep plugging away, painstakingly, to myself.  Seriously, why can't other runners, especially females offer some form of acknowledgment when you pass them?  Granted if you don't see them that's one thing, but during the day, it's bright and we are on the same side of the road there is no reason to not give some head nod, a two-finger non-verbal 'hey'.  I have better communication with elderly dog walkers.

Eventually, the run of misery was over.  I did my best to do some hack stretching before I went in the house. Which I always feel funny about.  Why?  I feel like my neighbors are looking at my butt when I'm stretching on the sidewalk.  But, I am stretching outside because I my muscles are more lose immediately after the run than when I go in because when I go inside, I'm likely to help get the kiddos ready for bed, read a book and so forth.  By the time a stretch is in order, I'm ready for relaxing on the couch.  Besides, have you tried stretching with an effing dog at your crotch?  Not the easiest thing to do.  So, I risk the neighbors and the sketchy apartment dwellers at the end of the block watching me stretch.  And those apartments are sketch-eee.  The kind of sketch-eee where weird women yell from their porch at kids for playing too loudly.  Uh, go back inside and sleep off your drugs, crazy lady.

So, here's what is in order for tomorrow: I am hopeful I feel good; I'm planning on going for a 9-mile run.  I have picked up some more of my glucosamine chondroitin which I had run out of so I suspect that may have been part of the problem with my challenges with my mid-week runs.  I'm back on the juice so-to-speak.  I am likely to say hello to a fellow runner if I encounter a friendly runner, although I am more likely to pass a friendly dog walker which is cool too.

Route scout

Jane is my running partner.  In all honesty, Jane is my running partner who is taking a running hiatus: she's pregnant.  Very pregnant.  So there is no running happening with Jane.  However, when Jane and I were running together, and we were training and running an ultramarathon we spent a lot of time together.  So, while we ran we chatted about all sorts of things.  We decided on one of our long runs one day, out on the Banks-Vernonia trail that we should organize a three quarter marathon.  We've both run lots of organized runs, we know what runners like in a run and we know that the slowest runner is the runner that needs the most motivation to keep going.  We figured out how many people we knew who were in bands (really, in Portland, you can throw a rock in any direction and hit a band/band-member/soloist, "I'm with the band").   We decided our run would benefit colon cancer because my sister had recently been diagnosed with colon cancer.  So, we were off to begin our planning.  We formed a summit: three of us, Elizabeth, Jane and I.  We doled out tasks and reviewed our binder of How to Plan a Race.  I mapped out a course and recently we met with the City of Portland to discuss permitting issues as it relates to the course we mapped out.  As it turns out we have some kinks that need to be worked out and now we need to do some tinkering with our route and so we are going to scout a new route, further east along the former route.  Fortunately this weekend is supposed to be nice weather so Jane and I will be either walking or riding bikes along the Springwater heading towards Powell Butte/Gresham area with our cameras and pads of paper to see what we see and map the distance.    

Decisions, decisions, decisions

Why when faced with a difficult decision do we punt and do something that is more fun?

The time has come to purchase tickets for the family to travel to the other side of the world (or at least it seems, when really we are travelling from Portland to Birmingham, Alabama) for a family reunion.  I started looking for airline tickets the other night.  When I saw that the ticket price for one round-trip ticket was $550-something, I punted and instead decided, hmm, lets look for a race that's coming up that I could enter instead.  No surprise I found one that is coming up, it costs less than $500 and there are more health benefits for me to enter that than to sit stationary on a plane for several hours with a 3 and 5 year old, and of course my husband too, to help weather the storm (and anything else I can throw in the bag of tricks).  Is it any wonder I punted?

At some point though, I am going to have to bite the bullet and purchase the tickets, likely in the next week or so.  I don't know which I'll do first.  Enter that race I found in Keizer in May or purchase airline tickets.  If it's merely a numbers game, that race has won out, hands down.  I don't know what i'm waiting for.  Oy!  Maybe I'll look for a new running outfit...

Can you drink at 9am?

This weekend I did a 10k, Bridges to Brews.  The course was more hilly than I expected but although I had said I believed beforehand it would be my worst race ever, it actually was not.  So, that's a bonus.  I kept trucking along the entire course, channeling Dory from Finding Nemo, "just keep swimming, just keep swimming" and eventually it was over.  Then when it was over I came upon the wet, muddy field where several beer, hard cider and wine vendors awaited to sample their products.  However, after a run, I can hardly think about booze, especially at early morning hours.

It's funny thinking about it though.  As Sam and I were walking to the park, we overheard someone on the phone, talking loudly about how his friends and he had all gone out drinking the night before and apparently only he was able to pull it together enough to get himself to the race that morning.  Oh, to be young and have no responsibilities.  Sam and I laughed about that guy, thinking perhaps his friends would show up and run and still run faster than both of us because that's what happens when you're in your 20's.  You stay up until all hours of the night/morning drinking, you don't train for running events then you on a lark enter and still out perform better conditioned runners who are not hungover.  A-holes, I hope you lose your booze before the first mile.

The rationale for the booze post-race: hair of the dog for the young participants since they are the ones who can drink and run with booze in the stomachs and don't care so much about pace??  I dunno.  I did taste some wine, but it was so odd that it was hardly memorable.  I can drink a bloody mary or something like that, but not wine post-race.