On Running a Half Marathon

Yeah..... I also woke up with a cold this morning. It was coming all week and BAM! Actually I convinced myself that I was fine until 10 km at which point my body went "Like HELL you're fine."

The remaining kilometers consisted of pain, exhaustion and a near melt-down, but I finished the race at 2 hours and 30 minutes. 15 minutes longer than my goal time which quite frankly sucked especially when I knew I could do better and I have done better and... oh well, I'll stop whining.

I will do better next time. And you better believe there will be a next time. So watch out pregnant-looking-forty-something man who beat me. Your ass is mine.

Actually... I don't want anything to do with your ass, I just want to beat you next time.

My feet hurt.

Things I Learned While running 20k

1. After 15km, your feet stop hurting.... well... you stop feeling your feet anyway.

2. Around 14km I get a sudden burst of energy and start singing the Spiderman theme song.

3. Around 16km I don't want to sing anymore; in fact, I get damn cranky and enouraging and supporting comments are no longer welcome.

4. I hate getting passed by old men in spandex shorts for many reasons.

5. Lemon-lime gatorade is actually okay.

6. Strawberry-banana energy gel is what they serve to the worst sinners in hell. No power on this earth will compell me to try one ever again.

7. The runner's wave. That's when an older more experienced runner (you know the type, gaunt and sinewy, shorty-short wearing...) gives you a little wave as they encounter you going in the other direction. It sort of says, "I acknowledge your efforts." It's like being in a club.

8. No gym teacher I ever had would believe I was doing this.

9. After 20 km, it's actually hard to stop your legs from trying to move you forward, like getting off a spinny ride at the fair and feeling like you can't stop spinning. I guess 2hrs of running will do that.

10. I have the best husband ever because he rollerbladed with me the whole way.

A Manifesto from My Feet

We the undersigned do hereby formally announce our desire to separate from Danika's body.

We believe that after months of undue stress and torture we can no longer undure the constant abuse: namely the confinement to running shoes, the blisters, the insufficient "moisture wicking" socks, and the burden of supporting her unwieldy frame for kilometers at a time.

We have been patient and long suffering, but today was the last straw. She forced us to carry her through 14.5 grueling kilometers.

What the hell? Drive a car like a normal freaking human being! You psycho!

-Left foot (the badly blistered one) and Right foot.

Today's Running Stats

Total kilometers: 9
Time: .... well, let's not get competitive
Bugs consumed: 4
Kids on bikes that cut me off because they got distracted by something shiny: 5
People on scooters: 3
Picnicking making out couples: 5467
Cycling couples who decided they owned the entire trail: 6
Pot-smoking kids: 8

Most interesting thing I saw on my run today: cryptic messages about "Banana Kingdom" close to the university.

An old post about training for a half marathon

So a couple weeks ago I got it in my head that I was going to train for a half-marathon, because I'm apparently only half-insane.

Those of you who knew me in high school may find this terribly amusing and slightly disturbing in an "OMG have I entered some bizzaro world" kind of way.

It had been going well for a little while. I bought cool new "magic" shoes that don't hurt my feet like the last ones did (even though I paid a lot for them and they had cool gimmicky shock-absorbing things in the heels), and I have been sticking faithfully to my training schedule. I had a long (okay, a relative term, I know) run on Saturday and it went really well. I actually ran further than expected because I increased my time on the way back. There was a little Rocky moment where I briefly considered and then rejected jumping around and pumping my fists in the air.

And then it happened.

I was tired yesterday. Damn tired. I'd been at the school until 4:30. I was starving and I hadn't consumed the requisite fluids for the day. So I went home and ate and then sat on the couch and wanted to go to sleep so bad it made me want to cry. But Brian (being a good and supportive husband) dragged me off the couch and to the gym and what should I find there? The freaking town crier (PIONEER BABES, ARE YOUR READING THIS?), announcing that it was Goodlife's birthday and there was free cake for all.

Oh, wonderful.

I plowed past the nauseating scents and onto the the evil treadmill of death. I can't take the treadmill anymore. It's just so damn boring. Those evil little red numbers bleeping their time at me mockingly (10:32......10:33.........

......
..........................

.................10:3.....

...........4..............

....) OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDD! So yeah. Ten minutes felt like ten hours. At 20 minutes in my body decided it was time to have a serious talk with my brain. It went like this:

Body: HEY!
Brain: Yes?
Body: What the HELL do you think you're doing?
Brain: Um.... sticking to my training schedule?
Body: Look, we've had just about enough of this uncomfortable, unpleasant, sweaty, moving around. We let you have the first week and a half because we figured you'd give up. Stop it.
Brain: No. Just a little longer.
Body: You know those numbers aren't moving.
Brain: Yes they are.
Body: You can't do this.
Brain: Shut up.
Body: You look stupid in spandex pants.
Brain: SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So yeah. I've officially lost my mind. And my calves hurt.

But I went running today. Even though it was cold and windy. At least there were no beady little teadmill timer numbers to mock me on the running trail.

On the other hand, I feel it is important to remind myself how I looked after I ran a 10K race with my friend Andrea. I didn't really train for that race. This picture reminds me of the importance of training.