tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51155326945282307322024-02-19T19:19:01.290-06:00Feet Move ForwardHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-36086346145236583162018-07-08T14:13:00.003-05:002018-07-08T14:13:54.435-05:00race recap: Freedom Fun Run 5kOn Wednesday (Happy 4th!) I ran my first 5k since Olive was born. The <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2017/08/baby-on-board.html" target="_blank">last 5k I ran</a> was in August last year when I was 20-ish weeks pregnant. My last non-pregnant 5k was <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2016/10/race-report-st-peter-halloween-5k.html" target="_blank">October 2016</a>. It was high time for some guidance on training paces, and I went into the race knowing it would be hard with only three weeks of running after taking time off with my hip injury. Turns out "hard" was like the understatement of the century!<br />
<br />
I went for a shakeout run on Tuesday night at 8pm in very muggy conditions. I felt sluggish and hoped that it would still somehow translate to a fast-ish time for the race, or at least not my slowest 5k ever. <i>Spoiler alert: I ran my slowest 5k ever.</i><br />
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My plan for race morning was to wake up early enough to dream -feed Olive, grab some food, and get to the race start with enough time to run a warm-up and do some dynamic stretching. What really happened: Olive was wide awake, kicking around in bed, before my alarm even went off. When I tried to nurse her, she refused, happy to just be awake and getting attention. I spent so long trying to get her to fall back asleep that I put myself behind schedule. I left Olive awake on the bed while I hurriedly got dressed, then decided to try to pump because my boobs were full. While I was doing that, Olive started crying so I brought her out to play on the floor. Then Ulla woke up. So much for sneaking out!<br />
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I left the house 25 minutes behind schedule. I still needed to register for the race so I parked two blocks away, my run to and from registration my only warm up. I did a few legs swings in the corral to try to loosen my hip but didn't have much time. It was incredibly humid and I was sweating just standing in the corral. I started to think that doing anything besides fun-running was going to be a bad idea.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQDNXOw9Clr2ohMonOGwPAwXXvlIgK-fmYMbo0e_edWnt8M_7JWaeoXNcRDCJMdx_stFEN8ZkGxkU0gTYAYWCUYYviybDPfIHTCQtVo9Dojr8TCCEI6wE-fx76GKxcMf-HnaLAfy2LqQ/s1600/FB_IMG_1530727014793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="432" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQDNXOw9Clr2ohMonOGwPAwXXvlIgK-fmYMbo0e_edWnt8M_7JWaeoXNcRDCJMdx_stFEN8ZkGxkU0gTYAYWCUYYviybDPfIHTCQtVo9Dojr8TCCEI6wE-fx76GKxcMf-HnaLAfy2LqQ/s400/FB_IMG_1530727014793.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">that's me, fluorescent orange shirt, right side</td></tr>
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<br />
Within the first half-mile I knew that my plan of running "comfortably hard" was out the window. Despite a slow, controlled pace, my heart rate was in Zone 5 by the time we went through the first mile. This would probably okay for a 5k in normal conditions, but with the heat it felt like way too much. My legs felt like lead and I couldn't get my breathing under control. I walked through the first water stop. Then the course started to climb.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the course profile. woof.</td></tr>
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Mile 2 was essentially all uphill, a gradual climb that zigzagged up
the side of the river valley. I walked a lot, my first time ever walking
in a 5k. My heart rate was still in Zone 5 or high 4, but my breathing
felt a little more manageable. We went through a second water stop after
mile 2 and I dumped a cup of (lukewarm) water down my back. Despite
being so overheated, I noticed that I was starting to get goosebumps. I
walked a bit more, then picked up a jog again.<br />
<br />
The course ran along the top of the river valley for a bit, then <i>sharply</i>
descended back to the start. What had taken us most of mile two to
climb took us only a quarter-mile to get down. I kept my pace slow, not
wanting to push my luck on weak legs. <br />
<br />
I finished in
27:04, my slowest time for a 5k ever. I grabbed some water and watched
the top 8k finishers come in just a minute or two after I had finished a
5k (!!!) and then walked back to my car to change out of my sweaty
clothes. John got there with the girls, and we unloaded and headed back
to the park for the Toddler Trot, which would be Ulla's first race.<br />
<br />
While
we were waiting, they started to do age group awards, which I didn't
even know were a thing! (Seriously, there was shockingly little online
about the race, despite it being in it's 18th year.) And, lo and behold,
when they called out the top 3 in the 30-39 age group, I finished
third!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">age group award pint glass! (post-race beverage not inlcuded)</td></tr>
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For
Ulla's race, they ran the kids on the grass for a short little out and
back. She wanted me to run with her, and made it about 20 feet before
she said the grass was "too itchy" and refused to run another step. So
that's a big DNF for her first race. But my gosh, didn't she look cute
in her little "running clothes"?<br />
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<br />
The
takeaway: I had hoped to use this race to hone in on some training
paces but I know that a 27 minute 5k is not at all indicative of my
current fitness level. So I'll wait another month for our next local 5k
and try again, hopefully with cooler weather!<br />
<br />
Splits according to Garmin, set to auto-lap: 7:46, 9:53, 8:48, 6:56 (last .1).<br />
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<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-4767587126484400582018-05-17T07:00:00.000-05:002018-05-19T19:15:27.470-05:00race recap: tc 1 mileThis isn't much of a race recap, more of a run report, because I did manage to run a whole mile last Thursday, but that was it. No PRs, no "race", just a fun mile with my family.<br />
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I may have mentioned somewhere that I was using this race in the hopes of being one of the 1000 randomly selected finishers that gets guaranteed entry into the TC 10 Mile this fall. (Otherwise I'll have to enter the lottery in July.) I also talked my dad into running, and with my sister Juli home on leave, she joined us. My half-brother Matt and step-mom came to watch the girls while we ran our mile.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">matt practicing his dad skills with olive</td></tr>
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This would be my first time on the new course that runs by the Guthrie and I really liked it! There are two turns so it's a slower course than the one that ran down Nicollet but I like that you can watch the elites start, then run across the park to watch them finish. We all got there early so we jumped into the first-timers wave and started near the back of the back. I asked my dad before we started when the last time he ran was and he said "oh, about 3 years!" So Juli and I ran on either side of him, just in case. :)<br />
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We ran the whole mile, a very slow jog. We finished in 11:55. My heartrate stayed in Zone 2. I didn't feel my hip at all when I was running but it felt tight when we stopped. This is after 14 days of zero running, mind you. Hip bursitis sucks! <br />
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They had food trucks, a post-race party (which I somehow missed the memo on), and a big inflatable for pictures. My favorite part of the night was watching Ulla take off down a path while telling me she was going to run "for fifty hours." Future ultra runner?! Gosh, I hope so!<br />
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<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-49471842341407874892017-02-03T12:51:00.000-06:002018-05-08T13:40:10.701-05:00race recap: pensacola beach run 10k The baby is napping so I'm going to try to write a brief recap because this is already way late.<br />
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The good: I ran a 10k PR, had pretty even splits, and somehow ended up being first overall female. My time was 44:37, a 7:12 pace, and my splits were 7:10, 7:14, 7:19, 7:14, 7:12, 7:14 (and 7:11 pace for the last .2). <br />
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The bad: I don't feel like I ran the time <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2016/12/6xx-mark-of-beast.html" target="_blank">I was capable</a> of running.<br />
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The 5k and the 10k were run together, and both were out and back courses. I did my best to stay controlled during the first mile, and I hit it exactly on when I went through the first mile in 7:10. I planned to pick it up progressively over the next 2 miles and then drop the hammer at the turnaround but after that first mile, I just couldn't find a rhythm. My breathing felt awkward, my stride felt off... just everything felt awkward. I had read something the night before about letting go of expectations and just enjoying the moment, so that became my mantra. I tried to not focus on my pace and mentally started listing all the things I was grateful for about the day, about running, about my life. I think I got a little bit too off in la-la land because my third mile was especially slow.<br />
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I wasn't really paying attention as I ran through the turnaround but as I started passing the 10k runners still coming through, many were cheering for me and I heard things like "first female!" I had noticed how far behind me the next woman was, and knew with how good I was feeling, the chances of her catching me were slim. I was still running alone and couldn't really muster up the energy to run faster, though I felt like I could've held that pace for longer.<br />
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Once we got closer to the finish line, there were a lot of 5k walkers that I had to dodge and it sort of zapped any energy I had for a finishing kick. Plus, the only 10k runners within striking distance were dudes and I didn't want to be a jerk and chick them in the finishing chute. (haha)<br />
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I felt good when I was done, evidence that I could have run harder. The second place girl found me and congratulated me. She herself was a mom of THREE kids (and about 7 years younger than me!) and had also run a PR. She was so nice and we chatted for a while.<br />
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There were supposed to be awards for top overall finishers but no one could really tell us when that would be happening. We ended up waiting over an hour and a half but I finally got my tumbler medal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my sisters and I waiting for the awards</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my winning mug!</td></tr>
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My plan now is to continue running at my same intensity until there is a reason to tone it down (aka a baby). I have my sights set on a race in March, and there is a 5k or a 10 mile option. I'll probably wait to register <br />
<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-36756376846287710602016-10-31T14:18:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:40:43.510-05:00race recap: St. Peter Halloween 5k<br />
On Saturday I ran my first 5k in 2-1/2 years. In a costume. And I stuck to my race plan. And it wasn't my slowest 5k. In fact, it was faster than the <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2014/05/race-recap-be-match-5k.html" target="_blank">last 5k</a> I ran, pre-baby! Nevermind that my average pace (7:22) was my<a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/05/race-report-new-prague-half-marathon.html" target="_blank"> half marathon PR</a> pace from 2011- any my <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2013/04/race-report-get-in-gear-10k.html" target="_blank">10k PR</a> pace in 2013. Ironic. <br />
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The race is known as the "largest and fastest parade of costumes in southern Minnesota" so I felt it only appropriate to dress up. I Googled costume ideas and settled on the Cookie Monster which seemed easy enough to make at home. I procrastinated on making it until the night before the race, when I discovered that the fabric glue I bought wasn't holding. Enter my savior husband and his suggestion of the construction adhesive Liquid Nails. Worked like a charm.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pxvFP03wCSnBPTXnGNi8hrWUlIayR1VdJhTDt7VJcQC8p5jf1gAezqd8l26HAZu9xRl_dwY55uc9Mn2lR6V9lnJ_exzzHfJkci_wCOhN0XBUZ7PtgoCAMYzA29t4uT4M6FFP1E_jMzw/s1600/5krace_costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pxvFP03wCSnBPTXnGNi8hrWUlIayR1VdJhTDt7VJcQC8p5jf1gAezqd8l26HAZu9xRl_dwY55uc9Mn2lR6V9lnJ_exzzHfJkci_wCOhN0XBUZ7PtgoCAMYzA29t4uT4M6FFP1E_jMzw/s400/5krace_costume.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#nerdalert</td></tr>
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I woke up early on Saturday and snuck out of bed to get ready while Ulla slept. I woke her up at the last minute and loaded her into the car for the trip to my mom's. She never fell back asleep and was happy to be at Oma's.<br />
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I got to packet pick up early, wanting to beat the crowds, and grabbed my race number and t-shirt, then went to my favorite coffee shop for a little pre-race snack. I ran a 2 mile warm up and did a few drills, got costumed up, and lined up in the corral about five minutes before the race started.<br />
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My race plan was to stay slow my first mile, then hammer the next two. I kept checking my watch the first mile because it's so easy to get caught up with everyone and have a fast effort seem easy, and sure enough, I was a running a sub-7 pace when I first checked my watch. I immediately backed off and went through the first mile in 7:27, right where I wanted to be.<br />
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Then we hit hills. And not just a few. There were a lot. I concentrated on maintaining my effort and not my pace as we rolled through a neighborhood. Every time I thought we were to the top, I would see another hill in front of us. My second mile was 7:44.<br />
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What goes up must come down and while my legs were tired from climbing, I focused on staying relaxed and loose, trying to use each downhill for a rest. Mile 3 was 7:06, significantly faster than my first mile and the first time EVER that my first mile was not my fastest in a 5k. I finished with a little left in the tank and felt great.<br />
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My Garmin said 22:42 but my official results (gun time) were 22:50. I'm happy with it. The race served its purpose of honing in training paces for the next few weeks, before I race another 5k in November. Honestly, when I think about the shape I used to be in and how much work it will take to get back there, everything feels way too overwhelming. But all I can do is take it a day at a time and just do what I can. Constant forward progress and all that. <br />
<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-47509281581392594762016-10-14T20:17:00.000-05:002016-10-15T14:20:15.552-05:0014 weeks to run a PR? I've been neglecting this space, mostly for lack of time but more so I just forget how good it feels to write until I do. So here I am, while Ulla unloads four containers of Playdoh on the floor at my feet. <br />
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Let's talk running!<br />
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Running has been happening on a weekly basis but that's the extent of it's consistency. I haven't hit double digit miles for the week since <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2016/06/a-revival.html" target="_blank">running Grandma's Half</a> in June. I've been happy to get out for 30 minutes a couple times a week and haven't worried about it if I can't. It was summer in Minnesota, after all. I don't do hot weather running very well, especially when early morning runs aren't an option (read: a husband that leaves for work by 6:20 a.m. and a baby that still isn't sleeping through the night). <br />
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But now it's Fall, a season made specifically for runners <i>thankyouJesus</i>. It's made me all kinds of motivated and tonight has consisted of a cross-training session at the gym, dinner, <a href="https://www.bellsbeer.com/beer/year-round/two-hearted-ale" target="_blank">my favorite beer</a>, and registering for <a href="https://stpeterhalloweenfunrun.itsyourrace.com/event.aspx?id=640" target="_blank">this 5k</a>. <br />
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Yes, a 5k. I haven't run one since my <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2014/05/race-recap-be-match-5k.html" target="_blank">second slowest 5k</a> a few years ago, but I need to figure out what the heck my training paces should be, ergo, I need to race. I'm eyeing a bigger goal of a half marathon in January and would like to run a PR, not just a post-baby PR but an overall PR. Nevermind that my <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/05/race-report-new-prague-half-marathon.html" target="_blank">current PR is from 2011</a>, when I was single, childless and TWENTY SIX years old. I think it's a crazy goal, probably too crazy for being just 14 weeks out but why not?<br />
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Go big or go home. Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-63017461088152514172016-06-23T21:35:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:41:07.418-05:00race recap: Grandma's Half Marathon (and a revival)I ran Grandma's Half last week, after roughly a dozen training runs spread over two months. That's not a typo, or an understatement. My training was <i>minimal</i>. Going into the race, I thought I'd run around a 9:30 pace, so I was shocked when miles ticked by in the mid 8's. I was even more shocked when it stayed that way, and that I finished feeling (relatively) good in 1:51:24, an 8:31 average pace. If someone would have offered me $100k to run an 8:30 pace for 13.1 miles, I literally don't think I would've been able to do it. And yet I did.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIlLNoFQS-mUmQLcTRrniGktCDgq9IhbE-8cZNvVwvwXPXWlj8qolwTvGo9F8scboQgvQO-ItOIZfaG9iD-hKHUaDkUbGK7klrE2k5Blkuq4P-G8bjWMsT11OXLjgpJ5ERh4cTlgEPI4/s1600/GrandmasHalf2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIlLNoFQS-mUmQLcTRrniGktCDgq9IhbE-8cZNvVwvwXPXWlj8qolwTvGo9F8scboQgvQO-ItOIZfaG9iD-hKHUaDkUbGK7klrE2k5Blkuq4P-G8bjWMsT11OXLjgpJ5ERh4cTlgEPI4/s640/GrandmasHalf2016.jpg" width="352" /></a></div>
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I keep thinking about this little corner of the internet, one that I've occupied for nearly six years, and how much life has changed in that period. Moves. Jobs. Marriage. Baby. Carl. But one thing hasn't changed: my love for running. <br />
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Is it odd to say that I come here often and read my own posts, and that reading them feels like the greatest motivator?<br />
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Is it odd to say that I feel like I have a better shot at being a better runner now as a 31 year old mom than I did when I was single and in my 20's?<br />
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There is an urgency to my running now that I didn't have before. Like I know my biological clock is ticking, but with a baby under my belt, it's a different clock. It's the one that keeps rhythm with my feet on the road, the familiar <i>tick tick tick tick</i> that I hear with every footfall. And the thought that chases me is <i>if not now then when? </i><br />
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I will never be the best runner in the world, but I also very strongly feel that I have yet to hit my limit of being the best runner I can be. So I'm back here at Feet Move Forward, reviving this little running blog and my running life. <br />
<br />Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16131694198722774522noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-79798169377354860202014-05-21T20:13:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:41:49.243-05:00race recap: be the match 5k<div dir="ltr">
Well, this wasn't my worst race ever, but it was my second worst race ever. Splits don't lie. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9mfEv8YQD4LdQ_WgMksakP0qfSD8y71feEP6eWpY-UjQ9JfmV_RNArtlx-SbIAXjOMt2PTqw5wJjqmNBKlUO74z0cF22Ta1MsvJ3v_4R1eBTKoYaoclUI1QY3OB7BsIw6upVwk50tRZF/s1600/IMG_20140517_100003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9mfEv8YQD4LdQ_WgMksakP0qfSD8y71feEP6eWpY-UjQ9JfmV_RNArtlx-SbIAXjOMt2PTqw5wJjqmNBKlUO74z0cF22Ta1MsvJ3v_4R1eBTKoYaoclUI1QY3OB7BsIw6upVwk50tRZF/s640/IMG_20140517_100003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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After parking two miles from the start (for two reasons: 1. So I could run a warm up and 2. so I'd have to run a cool down), I ran the "hard part" of the course to remind myself of the hills, then settled around the start line so I wouldn't get stuck behind walkers. </div>
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Which turned out to be pointless, because I basically should have been walking. I felt decent for the first mile, like I was starting to hurt on the second, and basically like I was crawling for the third. </div>
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In defense of starting too fast, I would like to say that there was a headwind on the third mile, and then an 8 year old passed me, which didn't do much for my mental game. </div>
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The temptation to <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2014/05/a-goal-for-tomorrows-race.html" target="_blank">look at my watch</a> became overwhelming around 2.5 miles, but before I looked, I asked myself if I could be running faster. The answer was no. So I looked at my predicted mile pace, which used to be my "easy run" pace.</div>
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So this race was all kinds of awful, and I haven't run since. I'm seriously having doubts about how much time I want to put toward this thing I used to love so much. But that's for another time. </div>
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In happier news, I'm off to visit my sister at her tech school in Mississippi for the holiday weekend. It's 80+ degrees everyday, with 100% humidity, so running will most likely not be on the docket. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-39510473098435297392014-01-19T22:46:00.002-06:002014-01-19T22:46:33.633-06:00best day ever<div style="text-align: justify;">
We haven't gotten our pictures from our photographer but we've been having a great time looking through the candid shots that friends and family took. This is by far my favorite capture. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2WbuxbYggKhRP3XAsc1xJ-x8dlGaQCOetnn8QR_Dgjq6gWL0qyqkzL7PqBQ-Pxt9qPp0DM1Vo3URLBxnZsOYCjreZcaWo6KV4k-ouPD7psS6kJfRGXkWz7qBF1n5g3I7aws1GCm_ZcQO/s1600/best+day+ever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2WbuxbYggKhRP3XAsc1xJ-x8dlGaQCOetnn8QR_Dgjq6gWL0qyqkzL7PqBQ-Pxt9qPp0DM1Vo3URLBxnZsOYCjreZcaWo6KV4k-ouPD7psS6kJfRGXkWz7qBF1n5g3I7aws1GCm_ZcQO/s1600/best+day+ever.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">love</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-52445134840537834672013-10-28T09:35:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:42:18.093-05:00race recap: team ortho monster dash half marathon<div style="text-align: justify;">
If there ever was a race that I had zero expectations for, this was it. First, I haven't been running that much these past two months, <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/09/psa-when-testing-out-injury.html" target="_blank">due to my Achilles</a>, and just general complacency. I was severely concerned about my ability to even run 13.1 miles, much less do it at a respectable pace. </div>
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Second, this was my first Team Ortho race. Having worked for TCM for a couple years, it's pretty safe to say that I know the good, the bad and the ugly of event planning, and I went in with a complete understanding of how Team Ortho "organizes" their races. Needless to say, my expectations were low, both for myself and the race in general. </div>
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That's probably what saved me. </div>
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I woke up on Saturday morning around 6:45, and didn't feel like eating breakfast, so I didn't. I hadn't charged my Garmin, and hadn't given any thought to race day apparel, so I threw on some tights and double layers on top and prayed for less wind than the forecast was predicting. </div>
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We picked up friends Joy and Frida. Frida was running and Joy was going to navigate/spectate with John. Traffic was terrible, with everyone and their mom trying to get off at Kellog. We zoomed around and got off at the next exit with very little problem. As such, the race start was delayed 10 minutes, so Frida and I got to dance around in the cold. Brrrr. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlqO4g9w8WJ41Jk1wNQGV1z2L2vnBrJQ0e9_VoGcWNvjemMuXbIpd8zrOyNuqkrrc1jnJQ5bisqRHhOfDVc_goIdoBBoZnSDzDyKRjgxySywg9BHUGh5uTmcsRZB-Vz596m1qWbkxJO1-/s1600/monsterdash1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWlqO4g9w8WJ41Jk1wNQGV1z2L2vnBrJQ0e9_VoGcWNvjemMuXbIpd8zrOyNuqkrrc1jnJQ5bisqRHhOfDVc_goIdoBBoZnSDzDyKRjgxySywg9BHUGh5uTmcsRZB-Vz596m1qWbkxJO1-/s400/monsterdash1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we're cold</td></tr>
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My plan was run around 8:30s/9:00s because I didn't think there was any way I could run faster. Frida had said she wanted to run 8:00s and since we were together at the start, I went off with her. Because I wasn't running with a watch, the only way I had to gauge my pace were the pace gourps, and we were right around the 1:45 guy (an 8:01 pace). I figured I would stick with Frida for as long as possible, then drop back when I started to feel crappy. </div>
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Long story short, that crappy feeling never really hit, and I finished in 1:45:15. The last three miles were really painful, when both IT bands and my right hip made it feel like I was running through cement. The course was beautiful, and it turned out to be a lovely, sunny day, though the wind was brutal at times. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFVumOFEsoysYktKoWfjgMHK1ihwu5ZWAgnqjb0-OepiJS1p7iToTQvF1wwPB7Ld1JCxPDecjdBFZiJju9IYi4rVcKTg9H4pPTrpBZwmXwU52zdrCr551-E2PNIu_NpwJOS3LeLT0-Av_/s1600/monsterdash2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFVumOFEsoysYktKoWfjgMHK1ihwu5ZWAgnqjb0-OepiJS1p7iToTQvF1wwPB7Ld1JCxPDecjdBFZiJju9IYi4rVcKTg9H4pPTrpBZwmXwU52zdrCr551-E2PNIu_NpwJOS3LeLT0-Av_/s640/monsterdash2.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we're basically celebrating surviving our walk to the car</td></tr>
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A few thoughts on Team Ortho:</div>
<ul>
<li>They have mile markers every half-mile, which was something I had never seen in a distance race. I kind of liked it, kind of hated it, because it was either, <i>Oh, we've only gone a half mile!? </i>or <i>Sweet, we've already run a half-mile.</i> </li>
<li>They didn't have any splits or timing mats any where on the course, which is super weird. 1. It means you could cheat pretty easily by cutting out most of the course and 2. It's crappy for people who didn't have a chip time due to "human error" at the start. </li>
<li>There was very little food/water at the finish. I saw some volunteers passing out cups of water, and someone handed me a banana, but it's nothing like what I was expecting on a chilly day after 13.1 miles. </li>
<li>Team Ortho is known for their gear, but paying $75 for a sweatshirt and a gaudy medal is not more important than a well-organized race. I would run a Team Ortho event again, but not if I cared in the least about my time/race amenities. </li>
<li>Finally, St. Paul sucks for parking. In case you didn't already know.</li>
</ul>
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To sum it up, I'm pretty impressed with my body's ability to pull off an 8:03 pace, but in the days since, it's let me know it's not happy about it (SO MUCH hip rubbing). Running through St. Paul in the fall reminded me why I love running, and I should probably try to work some back into my crazy wedding-planning, house-renovating, moving, marriage schedule. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-74661822856489993792013-08-19T11:55:00.001-05:002013-08-19T11:55:24.574-05:00how to survive a post-run ice bath<div style="text-align: justify;">
This weekend had two important milestones, the first being I successfully completed my longest training run in over a year- 17 miles! I ran with Brady, who was a doll and agreed to run with me at 6:30 on Sunday morning.</div>
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I only had 45 minutes by the time I got home to get out the door for church but I knew I needed an ice bath, which bring me to my second milestone: my first ice bath in 2+ years! </div>
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Ice baths are like marathons in the way that you forget how much you hate them until you're actually doing it, at which point there's no turning back. But ice baths are said to speed recovery so they're kind of a necessary evil, IMO. Active.com says: </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The general theory behind this cold therapy is that the exposure to
cold helps to combat the microtrauma (small tears) in muscle fibers and
resultant soreness caused by intense or repetitive exercise.</i> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The
ice bath is thought to constrict blood vessels, flush waste products
and reduce swelling and tissue breakdown. Subsequently, as the tissue
warms and the increased blood flow speeds circulation, the healing
process is jump-started. The advantage of an ice bath submersion is that
a large area of intertwined musculature can be treated, rather than
limiting the cold therapy to a concentrated area with a localized ice
pack. </i></blockquote>
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So ice baths = good, or at least generally won't do any harm. Here are my tips on surviving one. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VPHjQeH4sxGwwaZh9nPOGyWAE9nIQpCRYdjbn3AuV4AnK-WiN-b6cbpwTG_mP5n5x_nbG_M-ibDHUrKUvYiXj9riWoa2iyqaMFFdLOgUhnWF1E8dNFARUeVEDYoWD_2QJ-lPFs8Y4U7T/s1600/post-run-ice-bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7VPHjQeH4sxGwwaZh9nPOGyWAE9nIQpCRYdjbn3AuV4AnK-WiN-b6cbpwTG_mP5n5x_nbG_M-ibDHUrKUvYiXj9riWoa2iyqaMFFdLOgUhnWF1E8dNFARUeVEDYoWD_2QJ-lPFs8Y4U7T/s1600/post-run-ice-bath.jpg" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li>Keep your shorts on. Ain't nobody got time for frostbite on their nether regions. Plus, I feel like this counts as laundry.</li>
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<li>Change out of your wet top/sports bra in favor of a long-sleeve shirt. May as well keep your top-half warm.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Brew coffee, tea or other hot beverage of choice and pour yourself a big old mug to be enjoyed while sitting in the tub.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Distraction. A book, magazine, Twitter, Instagram, etc. Bring something that will keep your mind off the cold. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>This is probably the most important step: <i><b>Fill the tub with cold water, get in, then add the ice.</b></i> In my experience, if you add ice before you get in, the amount of discomfort increases by like 1000%. Getting into <i>cold </i>water is bad enough but <i>ice </i>water is agony. </li>
<br />Google research tells me that the water temp should be between 50-59 degrees but short of getting a thermometer out, I don't know how you figure that out. Basically it should be uncomfortable (it's cold water!) but not painful.
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Chill out (total pun intended) for the next 10-20 minutes. </li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I want to know: Do you ice bath? If you do, any tips to share? If you don't, are you going to try? </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-72904499661054843542013-08-06T07:00:00.000-05:002013-08-06T07:00:02.230-05:00slow going<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've just spent a ridiculous amount of time pouring over my training journals from the past few years. Back when I <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/04/run-valley-5k-race-report.html" target="_blank">was running a 5k</a> a good 30 seconds <i>per mile</i> faster than what <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/08/race-report-pine-tree-apple-classic-5k.html" target="_blank">I just ran.</a> Back when I was comfortably running under eight minute miles. Back when I felt like a real runner.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-wQ_3f-4IktXFmsKrBQ7DBFq9V2Q-l3u44rhq9LlroIL_9a5509yD5cPg-21oTXeZL8b9zZ-4-0FvJ-y01YQQX1jQenRJ5dVWbsKbZQ4uVY48YKQ3Qi96ClwmWt_YW4q7NCWjllM4ru-/s1600/running-training-logs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-wQ_3f-4IktXFmsKrBQ7DBFq9V2Q-l3u44rhq9LlroIL_9a5509yD5cPg-21oTXeZL8b9zZ-4-0FvJ-y01YQQX1jQenRJ5dVWbsKbZQ4uVY48YKQ3Qi96ClwmWt_YW4q7NCWjllM4ru-/s1600/running-training-logs.jpg" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know fitness takes time to come back. But here we are in August, nearly two years from when <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/10/down-for-count.html" target="_blank">I was shoved</a> from the running wagon (and my <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2012/03/when-pe-has-nothing-to-do-with-gym.html" target="_blank">subsequent PE)</a>. And I'm looking back thinking <i>what the heck have I been doing? </i>and feeling like I should be farther along. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
It's hard to keep going when results are slow and even harder to see, when all you have to go on is a feeling, and dreams of what could be. So rather than looking at paces or miles, I'm looking at progress: Runs are getting easier. I'm uninjured. I'm happy to be running. <br />
<br />
It's all reason enough to keep moving forward.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Dm_lqArB0kRAm8urBKwWoZWH52e384VUU8RdSwQGkw4ARfwuXL9gz2N2Z4ulKJs8wOXRqK6Jq8cqAVIMqeqMpljh2k5WL4TzGLbMG14shfkuohyphenhyphenL4pUCVTOL_n4UrUgcfAkBEdcmc9GT/s1600/relentless-forward-progress.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Dm_lqArB0kRAm8urBKwWoZWH52e384VUU8RdSwQGkw4ARfwuXL9gz2N2Z4ulKJs8wOXRqK6Jq8cqAVIMqeqMpljh2k5WL4TzGLbMG14shfkuohyphenhyphenL4pUCVTOL_n4UrUgcfAkBEdcmc9GT/s1600/relentless-forward-progress.jpg" height="500" width="500" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-54701447195761026402013-08-05T07:33:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:42:52.189-05:00race recap: pine tree apple classic 5k <div style="text-align: justify;">
I may have forgotten to mention that I ran a <a href="http://ptatc.childrensmn.org/runs" target="_blank">5k</a> yesterday. My original <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/02/2013-race-calendar.html" target="_blank">2013 race plans</a> had me heading to my hometown for a 5k this weekend, but instead I went up to White Bear Lake to raise money for children's cancer research.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Brady and I got up there early to register, and it was a good thing we did! There were tons of people wanting to register, and only a few people there to check us in. It was cold, too, and I found myself shivering while we waited in line, wishing I had brought a sweatshirt! Doesn't MN know it's August?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOyDv_Eod58A72iFgWFPJfM4fuADvxPOggb4hc-7L5nzUS6J9yg-1xFPjG5pTvSu9oA1OwaAvt_KU9tJiZFat_4q5R7R9AJJ-QEN9hL9sYZ7Iiz_FKv3rwUk99MTWmRpXCeqRDLI9m3W8/s1600/pine-tree-apple-classic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOyDv_Eod58A72iFgWFPJfM4fuADvxPOggb4hc-7L5nzUS6J9yg-1xFPjG5pTvSu9oA1OwaAvt_KU9tJiZFat_4q5R7R9AJJ-QEN9hL9sYZ7Iiz_FKv3rwUk99MTWmRpXCeqRDLI9m3W8/s1600/pine-tree-apple-classic.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://twitter.com/ChildrensMN" target="_blank">via @ChildrensMN</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My goal for the race was to run hard and try to maintain an even effort. Story of my life, right? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The race starts at Lifetime Fitness and runs around Birch Lake, staying mostly on the sidewalks. Brady and I ran a warm up to get a preview of the course which was really scenic and relatively flat.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When it was time for the 5k to line up, we tried to position ourselves at the front so we wouldn't get stuck behind a bunch of people, even though the race was chip timed. I started my watch as soon as the horn sounded but then found myself at a standstill as the people in front of me trotted ahead across the timing mats. Apparently they weren't in a hurry. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For the first 100 meters or so, I was stuck behind a few kids and blocked in by spectators. By the time I made it out of the pack, there were six women in front of me, and they had quite the gap. Rather than worry about it, I just stuck to my own race. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The first mile was crowded, with a lot of dodging 5k people that had gone out too fast, and catching up with 10k people. Since we were on sidewalks, it was difficult to maneuver around them and I found myself slowing down more than once to wait for an opportunity to pass. I eventually passed two of the women and was within 10 meters of a third for the majority of the race. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I heard my watch beep mile splits but didn't look at it at all until the third mile. The course seemed to drag on forever and I started to develop a sharp side stitch. I just concentrated on staying relaxed and moving my feet as fast as possible until I crossed the finish line. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My watch read 21:59 with a distance of 3.17 miles, a 6:56 average pace. I knew that my official time would be a little faster than that, since I started my watch prior to crossing the mat but I also knew that they would call the course 3.1 miles, making my average pace slower. Brady's Garmin said 3.27 miles so I'm pretty sure the course was a little long. My mile splits were 6:49, 7:05, 6:56 and 6:49 (for the last .17). My official time turned out to be 21:52. Still, all my mile splits were faster than the "5k" <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/06/race-report-henderson-sauerkraut-days-5k.html" target="_blank">I ran in June. </a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The takeaway: I need to do more speedwork. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-26940630759980778962013-07-21T14:11:00.001-05:002018-05-08T13:43:51.457-05:00race recap: red, white & boom! tc half marathon relay <div style="text-align: justify;">
I can hardly believe that it's July 21! It feels like this race was just last weekend. Anyway, here's my recap for the <a href="https://www.tcmevents.org/events/red_white__boom_tc_half_marathon/" target="_blank">Red, White & Boom! TC Half Marathon Relay</a> (whew!). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A few things about this race: </div>
<ul style="text-align: justify;">
<li>It's on the 4th of July every year, so if you have family in town and are looking to start some sort of healthy tradition, this is it. The relay portion makes it accessible to those that maybe aren't comfortable running the entire half. </li>
<li>That being said, it's really flipping hot. They start the race at 6:30 to try to beat the heat, but it's July in Minnesota, so it's to be expected. I wouldn't really plan this race for a PR or anything.</li>
<li>Because it starts so early, don't expect a lot of spectators. They have course entertainment every so often but you're basically just running by a band for 30 seconds. </li>
<li>It's a quiet course. The first half goes through the more industrial part of Northeast Minneapolis, and the latter half winds through the neighborhoods. Since it's a holiday, and so early, it can feel sort of desolate. (I actually like this about it.)</li>
<li>Regarding the relay, in my opinion, the first leg is the harder one. Yes, the second leg starts with <a href="http://www.minneapolisparks.org/default.asp?PageID=1052" target="_blank">Norwegian Hill</a>, but it's literally all downhill from there. The first leg has three hills, all pretty steep. </li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Okay, on to the race. So I ran with John, who has not run 6.5 miles in probably eight years. He'd only been training a few weeks, and his longest run was five miles. We toured part of the course earlier in the week and decided that he would run the first half, mostly so he could start with a larger group and sort of feed off that energy.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
We drove to the start line and got there a little before 6:00 a.m. There was already a long line for the porta-potties, which was unfortunate for John who was experiencing his first case of "nervous bladder."</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWW4XuxJaFCMwhHlzigKPf4RG48QlWmP8jn3IcLZcQs4yErNiTVciZGwarCCAYMqfwu2CP3zVS9uXwS6A2ugACgXes8awHB_TyB_nYRn0gK3UUgORDiCJ1DzA0JwO96KxW51XFj2dX2Ke2/s1600/runners-porta-pottie-line.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWW4XuxJaFCMwhHlzigKPf4RG48QlWmP8jn3IcLZcQs4yErNiTVciZGwarCCAYMqfwu2CP3zVS9uXwS6A2ugACgXes8awHB_TyB_nYRn0gK3UUgORDiCJ1DzA0JwO96KxW51XFj2dX2Ke2/s400/runners-porta-pottie-line.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">everybody pees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Shortly after John got into the corral and I walked down the course so I could see everyone start.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKOVJ1bKy_bvsJMiOYu7gM2Yq2xR4UFNMwaL7k_44PaQ7hTm9rQ9N96fW53iJAoqBbZl_e1cXqeYXThZnnc3KfL5D1FVrfKoasi6bklvorAzGKkDetuvEFjl379JJ1vkqek9ODsiRlccr/s1600/start-red-white-boom-half-marathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZKOVJ1bKy_bvsJMiOYu7gM2Yq2xR4UFNMwaL7k_44PaQ7hTm9rQ9N96fW53iJAoqBbZl_e1cXqeYXThZnnc3KfL5D1FVrfKoasi6bklvorAzGKkDetuvEFjl379JJ1vkqek9ODsiRlccr/s400/start-red-white-boom-half-marathon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and they're off!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8t1L2T3kM9joOMu6M0ET0N6CQWNg1XUrHMzu_vswHCtfSV0iCnsFKzZqa_6bN2PWI5BP2UpG_gB8IIS2f7M4f45WGI2sqlSdeCmvc1T2o6d4_KTYdFv4mzq37O2tYrehqBb1j8WWvuGY/s1600/johns-first-race.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8t1L2T3kM9joOMu6M0ET0N6CQWNg1XUrHMzu_vswHCtfSV0iCnsFKzZqa_6bN2PWI5BP2UpG_gB8IIS2f7M4f45WGI2sqlSdeCmvc1T2o6d4_KTYdFv4mzq37O2tYrehqBb1j8WWvuGY/s400/johns-first-race.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">blurry john</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Rather than take the bus to the transition area, Colleen and Julie were the best friends ever and gave me a ride there so they could see John finish his first race. We got there with plenty of time to spare but I wasn't really in "race" mode so I chatted instead of warming up. At. All.</div>
<br />
Soon enough I saw John coming and ran up to the transition area. Julie got this picture of him.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjrV_FwkXj5aDXwfrFe_UYvdkwjTHbEPSrmcddfxCsmYtJSVds3vswj7slwWbzNAGBLN7oX3aIyRV_vbJRu8g0UmjAzjfzdjDSd8LlLPAnAreW6pe-ZxFDugpjrqpyidgQnlZ1adHJ9S5/s1600/john-finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKjrV_FwkXj5aDXwfrFe_UYvdkwjTHbEPSrmcddfxCsmYtJSVds3vswj7slwWbzNAGBLN7oX3aIyRV_vbJRu8g0UmjAzjfzdjDSd8LlLPAnAreW6pe-ZxFDugpjrqpyidgQnlZ1adHJ9S5/s400/john-finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sweaty but still smiling</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZO4Op4LWwZ8DEd5KYdjfF90RoPKBN29U3K8bUusP_jKpVnheX1cDQzW_wDH293IfThtxtYY6JB0doqgJ7tgn0Ik93uPyeed14wO_Zi1oO3CIRH38xBd3bOahaKtzGJi3AMlNW3Rmmix5/s1600/red-white-boom-relay-transition.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZO4Op4LWwZ8DEd5KYdjfF90RoPKBN29U3K8bUusP_jKpVnheX1cDQzW_wDH293IfThtxtYY6JB0doqgJ7tgn0Ik93uPyeed14wO_Zi1oO3CIRH38xBd3bOahaKtzGJi3AMlNW3Rmmix5/s400/red-white-boom-relay-transition.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">transitioning!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wanted to make my first mile my slowest because it was the only one that had the gigantic hill but with the excitement of the race, that didn't really happen. Plus, immediately after you get to the top of it, you're rewarded with a long downhill. I didn't really look at my watch and just ran on feel until the last two miles. I was getting pretty warm (but got chills- never a good sign) and just wanted to be done.<br />
<br />
Soon enough, I was.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaKltgxRQ_E8UgzHItafLLxsNxiCsqrAfP9AiZ7wnyL5utZw77Rfhu2eLL7Nbl4z7YAWYaPLkW4nHVWd28PUmorLzeCWEDV0Q50p7WG1l1z2EBGup_0vM0DddpMxhL0I6iHEXCDbXwFcA/s1600/red-white-boom-relay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaKltgxRQ_E8UgzHItafLLxsNxiCsqrAfP9AiZ7wnyL5utZw77Rfhu2eLL7Nbl4z7YAWYaPLkW4nHVWd28PUmorLzeCWEDV0Q50p7WG1l1z2EBGup_0vM0DddpMxhL0I6iHEXCDbXwFcA/s400/red-white-boom-relay.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">great view, horrible form</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The best part of this race: Popsicles. And chocolate milk, hot dogs, and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't bother to eat. Instead, we walked down to Wilde Roast and had an amazing breakfast.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJrAldqo_8_rBrFBcX_RxnDMs97iIN7KCzQi8nUg5FnSb7V2XHN8eqiHZjWe01ntmLLgRC3YVslg9MsDoriGT7vS5yDi5H7AgZJUCWcjGKDbqFZPK_kXRFCxVFcoSrlmFF7VwATC4EIR0/s1600/hannah-john-finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJrAldqo_8_rBrFBcX_RxnDMs97iIN7KCzQi8nUg5FnSb7V2XHN8eqiHZjWe01ntmLLgRC3YVslg9MsDoriGT7vS5yDi5H7AgZJUCWcjGKDbqFZPK_kXRFCxVFcoSrlmFF7VwATC4EIR0/s400/hannah-john-finish.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we love running!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And that's the story of our first race together (though probably not our last).<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-57350988479140733372013-06-30T21:40:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:43:10.949-05:00race recap: henderson sauerkraut days 5k <div style="text-align: justify;">
So I ran a 5k yesterday, the same one I've run in <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2010/06/henderson-sauerkraut-days-5k-race.html" target="_blank">2010 </a>and <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/06/henderson-sauerkraut-day-race-recap.html" target="_blank">2011</a>. Sorry to disappoint, but there will be no <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/06/henderson-sauerkraut-day-race-recap.html" target="_blank">race recap video</a> like there was in 2011. There aren't even any pictures of the actual race, so you visual people can just skip this. But here it is, my race recap from the Henderson Sauerkraut Day's 5k. </div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>In bullets, for easy digestion:</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: justify;">
<li>I hit and killed a squirrel on the way to the race. I have NEVER hit an animal before and it made me really sad. (Not race-related but I thought I should confess.) </li>
<li>This race is actually closer to three miles, since that's what my (and everyone's) Garmin says every single year. </li>
<li>I ran this <b>a minute and a half slower</b> than I did <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/06/henderson-sauerkraut-day-race-recap.html" target="_blank">two years ago</a>. (21:34 according to Garm)</li>
<li>The surrounding high schools have a summer racing series so there were a lot of high school cross country and track girls there...</li>
<li>... so I assumed my secret goal of getting top three was gone. </li>
<li>I realized within a half-mile what a sorry state small town high school running is in when I passed a group of six girls.</li>
<li>I reeled two more in over the next two miles. </li>
<li>Remember how I said the <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2012/06/race-report-livestock-5k.html" target="_blank">Livestock 5k last year</a> was my slowest in years? My average pace for this race was slower than it was for that one. Ugly.</li>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Conclusion</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While I don't feel great about my fitness, or how I paced this race, I do feel great about beating a bunch of girls that are roughly 10-13 years younger than me. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I also got a cute medal and shirt, which is more than enough to please me. Three cheers for small town 5ks! </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczBF8KpwhwFlxT4hSxVLutzmuF_tGQEug5nRcs4sWwZXv8qhz5CpdxtoTTruJ2RvTsibml1kn4qHCGT6wkAV5teko-QNVzB1XL0DFiy738eqsuYU-ECufH4_Nr3v65YNVAwhUkGgTYQMO/s1024/IMG_20130629_133014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgczBF8KpwhwFlxT4hSxVLutzmuF_tGQEug5nRcs4sWwZXv8qhz5CpdxtoTTruJ2RvTsibml1kn4qHCGT6wkAV5teko-QNVzB1XL0DFiy738eqsuYU-ECufH4_Nr3v65YNVAwhUkGgTYQMO/s1024/IMG_20130629_133014.jpg" width="560" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yes, that's a cabbage with a face and legs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-80805284913747313522013-05-22T21:40:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:46:43.209-05:00race recap: medtronic tc 1 mile<div style="text-align: justify;">
This race report is kind of late considering it was nearly two weeks ago- and I just deleted my draft that I had started (on purpose) because it was getting a little wordy for a simple mile race.</div>
<br />
So here's the abridged version, in bullets: <br />
<ul>
<li>I wore spandex shorts because they make me feel fast. It might have been a little early in the season (pale legs + winter weight) for them, a realization that came as I stripped off my sweats in the start corral. <i>Oh well. </i></li>
<li>My only goal was to not go out fast and crash and burn. Therefore, I ran on feeling and didn't look at my watch at all. However...</li>
<li>I caught a glimpse of the clock as I was coming up on the half mile mark and I was well under six minute pace. I freaked out and slowed down. Still not sure why. </li>
<li>I was feeling great and couldn't believe how quickly the race was going by (mentally speaking). Still, I didn't pick up the pace because I was scared that I would poop my tiny spandex shorts at the end. (Do people poop their pants in short races? Or is that typically reserved for longer distances? Either way, it was a very real fear.)</li>
<li>I can tell I didn't run very hard because I was able to smile and wave to a few friends that were spectating along the course. I feel like if I was working harder, I wouldn't have been coherent enough. </li>
<li>Finished. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY17eAeZ4qQwkiI3GOnepsHm_ZQOAQD5_a-QeXntadnUlp12B96c7MYkPEbALrYcZvHfjA6mH0gs1Ccbx0A3aKPYI8tgtgndMZQaZhy2T1QU32cKEKQMygfE_1CnEvJXkd88EyYOVveeG4/s1600/tc1mile13.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY17eAeZ4qQwkiI3GOnepsHm_ZQOAQD5_a-QeXntadnUlp12B96c7MYkPEbALrYcZvHfjA6mH0gs1Ccbx0A3aKPYI8tgtgndMZQaZhy2T1QU32cKEKQMygfE_1CnEvJXkd88EyYOVveeG4/s1600/tc1mile13.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> not great, but i can't complain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li><a href="http://tenaciouslyyours.com/" target="_blank">Kat </a>and I both marveled at how racing a mile is really not damaging to one's appearance the way distance running is. No runny makeup, no rat's nest ponytail... You hardly even break a sweat. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOS8bvoaMIs9ntPb1vFyyGNnkDZumh6SEq_cG1ASZET7eMiHgo059enXnxnoSZRNuKALb1_Ssnngx5WtcZL39TbGQVTxQONzG7Q7di63SqmRA_4V2DdODRxI5oiwd0DIkQaPX8z5hDcfE/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOS8bvoaMIs9ntPb1vFyyGNnkDZumh6SEq_cG1ASZET7eMiHgo059enXnxnoSZRNuKALb1_Ssnngx5WtcZL39TbGQVTxQONzG7Q7di63SqmRA_4V2DdODRxI5oiwd0DIkQaPX8z5hDcfE/s1600/photo.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">post-race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<ul>
<li>This was my favorite Corporate Team Challenge shirt that I saw, again from Ginger Hop. (They had <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2012/05/behind-scenes.html" target="_blank">my favorite last year</a>, too.) Sorry for the pay channel language. </li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTDzRL14iZIdBJ4C7y2zERJ9jPFVNYS727OJf3CRZorKyzN5VtMJRPX8jbIN7A-954kZHhgauT5ffHUMnUUW7qjhT2YaXYvGJRpZZi2L3eYAsHP1-rc3USjkmux-mk3bKybWaOe22IOjB/s1600/20130509_200110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTDzRL14iZIdBJ4C7y2zERJ9jPFVNYS727OJf3CRZorKyzN5VtMJRPX8jbIN7A-954kZHhgauT5ffHUMnUUW7qjhT2YaXYvGJRpZZi2L3eYAsHP1-rc3USjkmux-mk3bKybWaOe22IOjB/s1600/20130509_200110.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Celebratory beers at Brit's. </li>
<li>While drinking aforementioned beer, we watched the elites run and marveled at their speed. I couldn't even take a picture of the men because they were too fast.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQP3YebYM18wiSSp0pNBIFoncZu3aMCI_Bc0b6XT2um1Wspx5Aq353vJ9uupxspGT4JLg6crxeTd5yvzxTEEZS0FZDeC5hlmuCHubc_xy84KQljYvAjllsHKyk8CvvNKFf9pkKPj7xuQP/s400/IMG_20130509_195500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKQP3YebYM18wiSSp0pNBIFoncZu3aMCI_Bc0b6XT2um1Wspx5Aq353vJ9uupxspGT4JLg6crxeTd5yvzxTEEZS0FZDeC5hlmuCHubc_xy84KQljYvAjllsHKyk8CvvNKFf9pkKPj7xuQP/s400/IMG_20130509_195500.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">fast girls run in underwear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Finally, today I received an email telling me that I was one of 1,000 random finishers selected for entry into the Medtronic TC 10 Mile this fall. I've never run it and was so hoping I'd get in. We'll call it my <i><b>2013 Goal Race. </b></i>Cue dramatic music. </div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>PS- It has just occurred to me this has been the fourth consecutive year that I've been present in some way at this race. In <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2010/05/weekend-recap.html" target="_blank">2010 </a>I was there as a spectator, while <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/05/day-i-met-ryan-and-sara-hall-in.html" target="_blank">2011</a> and<a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2012/05/behind-scenes.html" target="_blank"> 2012</a> I was an employee. Go figure.</i>
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As of yesterday, my official 10k PR is <b>45:45</b>, a 7:22 pace, which, incidentallly, happens to be my half marathon PR pace. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/04/race-week-fever-and-some-running-talk.html" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/04/race-week-fever-and-some-running-talk.html" target="_blank">Self-fulfilling prophecy.</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday I woke up feeling the worst I have in days. Without going into too much detail, it was clear my cold had turned bacterial. Lots of nose blowing, phlegm coughing, and water guzzling. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I got to the race around 8, found parking a few blocks away and got the lay of the land. With twenty minutes until the gun, I went out for a warm up jog. When I got back, the corrals were packed and I tried to work my way up to the front but stopped when it got too crowded to move forward without pushing people. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4d2ybNcjQFjaHeKeMtjRW1rcJ-9hApApg5_I4XIeciXXV1fRHGTk_NyqNDXvBqOTC-Y9Uv9-3_VP0OclPJjtNzoi4bfIrDFFmjpHwL7_uKWQdrnVVRTeEX-hAt5GOV15HvGASUB0JeBB/s1600/10k_map_2005_crop.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR4d2ybNcjQFjaHeKeMtjRW1rcJ-9hApApg5_I4XIeciXXV1fRHGTk_NyqNDXvBqOTC-Y9Uv9-3_VP0OclPJjtNzoi4bfIrDFFmjpHwL7_uKWQdrnVVRTeEX-hAt5GOV15HvGASUB0JeBB/s1600/10k_map_2005_crop.gif" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(<a href="http://getingear10k.com/course_maps.html" target="_blank">source</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I spent the first mile bobbing and weaving through a ton of people. (<a href="http://www.mtecresults.com/runner/show?rid=3134&race=1361" target="_blank">My stats</a> show I passed 498 in the first four miles.) I kept telling myself not to panic, that I had the whole race to make up for it. Besides, I wanted my first mile to be my slowest anyway. It was. <b>7:34.</b> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The road began to open up and I got a little over-zealous. I don't think I've ever been this happy to be racing. I forgot how much I loved the camaraderie of runners, and hearing the cheers of spectators. <b>7:07- </b>or "making up for lost time."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After mile 2 (I think) I saw Colleen, Julie and baby Mae and caught a few strides with former TCM coworker Molly, who was running the half. We wished each other luck before I kept moving, settling in to a pace that felt good (without looking at my watch). <b>7:20</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Between miles 3-4, you hit a hillier portion of the course. I did my best to stay relaxed and focused on keeping my stride short and using my arms to propel me. It helped knowing I'd be rewarding with a downhill after I made it up. <b>7:25</b> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Just after mile 4, two guys passed me that were talking about going sub-7, and one said that they'd have to go now to make it. The other replied that he was feeling okay as they were, but the pace they were moving was faster than what I doing. I debated if I should try to move with them but decided to hold where I was. <b>7:17</b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was at that point that I was comfortably tired and began to dread the minimal, though very real, incline up and over the bridge. It's also the point on the course where the half marathon splits off and continues for their additional miles, and I began to think about my experience <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2012/04/race-report-get-in-gear-half-marathon.html" target="_blank">last year</a>. <b>7:20 </b> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I actually don't remember passing the 6 mile mark, or really anything besides seeing Colleen, Julie and Mae and seeing Colleen raise her phone to take a picture of me and knowing that it would probably be pretty terrible. I concentrated on moving my feet as fast as possible, and began counting down from 10 in my head, knowing that when I hit zero, I would be done. <b>6:50</b> (last .2). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenUXI0F9OMJ2WYmtYSuUKdLVg8FaYZu-VSADrp-oFQTIpugaSNDkq89f4i2QLrYCAlhEr18obLikPeuMGJuuqWswRdnaiEUelzyv_HuVwRtEoO-WqWYD90g6x5PujhOcJzfi5ebJkc5kw/s1600/IMG952565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihyphenhyphenUXI0F9OMJ2WYmtYSuUKdLVg8FaYZu-VSADrp-oFQTIpugaSNDkq89f4i2QLrYCAlhEr18obLikPeuMGJuuqWswRdnaiEUelzyv_HuVwRtEoO-WqWYD90g6x5PujhOcJzfi5ebJkc5kw/s1600/IMG952565.jpg" width="476" /></a></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfq01BXE8qm7ZRtU7XITFULNGq0ebOioxFLnQp_KF9RshqigTOv12AMciKnKpB-Zus8ID-5p5-Cy5oTuod1hF4neKFhdYBRYEYQEu51xPBDDKk2JU6mfTJowGJDIwDbnJVOelwMANfXPs/s1600/IMG952566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfq01BXE8qm7ZRtU7XITFULNGq0ebOioxFLnQp_KF9RshqigTOv12AMciKnKpB-Zus8ID-5p5-Cy5oTuod1hF4neKFhdYBRYEYQEu51xPBDDKk2JU6mfTJowGJDIwDbnJVOelwMANfXPs/s1600/IMG952566.jpg" width="478" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">please notice that a 45 yr old is pretty much stride for stride with me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Some thoughts on my first 10k:</div>
<ul>
<li>I thought this distance would be terrible but I really love it. It's not as hard as a 5k and not as draining as a half. </li>
<li>This is the most evenly paced race I've ever run. Aside from my first two miles, and my finishing kick, my miles were all within 8 seconds of each other. </li>
<li>I'm happy with where this puts me at, fitness-wise. With only five weeks of dedicated training under my belt, I feel like this was a solid effort. </li>
</ul>
So there it is, the story of my first- though not last- 10k. <br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-72165732486127788282013-04-11T18:00:00.001-05:002013-04-11T18:00:47.016-05:00throwback thursday Circa 1995. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YtOqc1A6mP9-Zlg4ggJCDusOkbJcgBohNMJJutL_Fs1thtObACZhB5g23Sv7W-2PddTxbsP_X90mdJaSqzR9wNCE6MlWHzJqQLu153c2H2VnO_AGiVhCQkbZ8_jXlLWlNQTmmp-fsObu/s400/20130411_175225-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i specifically got this outfit for track & field day</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I think we can all agree that this picture is the true definition of <i>runnerd</i>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YtOqc1A6mP9-Zlg4ggJCDusOkbJcgBohNMJJutL_Fs1thtObACZhB5g23Sv7W-2PddTxbsP_X90mdJaSqzR9wNCE6MlWHzJqQLu153c2H2VnO_AGiVhCQkbZ8_jXlLWlNQTmmp-fsObu/s1600/20130411_175225-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-37690631545748575022013-02-27T17:42:00.000-06:002013-02-27T17:42:31.144-06:00how to train for the bear run on a treadmilll<div style="text-align: justify;">
One of the races that made its way onto my <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2013/02/2013-race-calendar.html" target="_blank">2013 race calendar</a> is <a href="http://www.hopeformarrow.org/bearinfo.htm" target="_blank">The Bear Run</a> in Linville, NC. The Bear is a five mile run up Grandfather Mountain (here's my <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.com/2011/07/bear-run-race-report.html" target="_blank">2011 race recap</a>).<br />
<br />
The race is near one of my <a href="http://www.blowingrock.com/" target="_blank">favorite cities</a> in America, and it would be a good excuse to sneak in a little vacation. We'll call this my destination race of 2013.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Here's the elevation profile of the 5 mile course:</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiq_L8LoldI8sosbX82IysXUK7Z3ld5a53ubG9kkpL5jkuF_6R4ppgYoWIOtGylgQjtlY4A37dZqJ4GTcIzVzHTJDGfuDI2uEUzeNxEW2U99mGw8eCqX5mG8mcQPxQK1jn3YzdwzEeLsHy/s1600/bearprofile2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiq_L8LoldI8sosbX82IysXUK7Z3ld5a53ubG9kkpL5jkuF_6R4ppgYoWIOtGylgQjtlY4A37dZqJ4GTcIzVzHTJDGfuDI2uEUzeNxEW2U99mGw8eCqX5mG8mcQPxQK1jn3YzdwzEeLsHy/s1600/bearprofile2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So how does one go about training to run up a mountain? Hills. Lots and lots of hills. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Even if you're not training to run The Bear, hills are a totally beneficial part of training. (Stud runners Carrie Tollefson and Matt Gabrielson break down the benefits of hill training in <a href="http://www.ctollerun.com/episode.php?e=37" target="_blank">this video</a>.) </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But what if you live in Minnesota where every hill looks more like a glacier? Two words: treadmill incline.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I was first training to run it, someone much better at math than me figured out a treadmill run that would simulate the elevation profile of the course. I honestly have no idea how one would go about figuring this out so no, I haven't checked the accuracy. If you're the type (<i>cough*nerd*cough</i>) that can figure stuff like that out, feel free to weigh in. </div>
<br />
<b>The Bear Treadmill Simulation Run</b><br />
<b>Mile Incline</b><br />
0-.5: 8.5%<br />
.5-1: 6.3%<br />
1-1.5: 7.5%<br />
1.5-2: 0.5%<br />
2-2.5: 1.0%<br />
2.5-3: 0.4%<br />
3-3.5: 10.3%<br />
3.5-4: 7.5%<br />
4-4.5: 8.0%<br />
4.5-5: 8.3%<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
If you try this, let me know about all the weird looks you get at the gym when you're practically falling off the back because you have the incline so high. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-62498782158196850232012-10-10T09:13:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:46:59.494-05:00race recap: medtronic twin cities marathon<b>Recent runs: </b><br />
<b>Monday</b>, 3.06 miles, 32:19, 10:33 avp (easy, easy run to shake out after Sunday)<br />
<b>Tuesday</b>, 5.1 miles, 41:38, 8:10 avp (slightly faster to remind my legs that I own them)<br />
______________________________________ <br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you pretty much know how this all went down. If you don't, settle in because I'm starting with The Day Before the Marathon.</div>
<br />
<b>Saturday</b><br />
The Day Before the Marathon kicked off with coffee and friends at <a href="http://twelve-in-twelve.com/" target="_blank">Ann</a>'s!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxvCKKB_zvZTbdoYun_XpaAwtFmQUTesG4jSI5En7ZF0u-C_yJiwvEdId94kX-QA3skt9O-VCdW9ZVGvRFl3Ea8GLPRCEVVsa9F67qzNq7-8TM4Weqb-lDa8lr-YMmL_v4VYF7ivfX4yg/s1600/A4iNx9bCYAAYKWY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJxvCKKB_zvZTbdoYun_XpaAwtFmQUTesG4jSI5En7ZF0u-C_yJiwvEdId94kX-QA3skt9O-VCdW9ZVGvRFl3Ea8GLPRCEVVsa9F67qzNq7-8TM4Weqb-lDa8lr-YMmL_v4VYF7ivfX4yg/s400/A4iNx9bCYAAYKWY.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">runners make better friends (and really good <a href="http://www.gfreerunner.com/" target="_blank">gluten-free</a> pumpkin bread!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Jzf1udEuoLa-5KN78VZGQpbcAhtTAMRY9EIc5gof1qkXdRFO0IyrZgSMnQ0ZcD1k0XVCHMUhc6d25H4GKSpHGx9ox7E9Aktnhv4e8JHx5d8BjzteKCDbwZm99Fjence25MwJEPj_zG5i/s1600/IMG_20121006_104442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Jzf1udEuoLa-5KN78VZGQpbcAhtTAMRY9EIc5gof1qkXdRFO0IyrZgSMnQ0ZcD1k0XVCHMUhc6d25H4GKSpHGx9ox7E9Aktnhv4e8JHx5d8BjzteKCDbwZm99Fjence25MwJEPj_zG5i/s320/IMG_20121006_104442.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.painprideperseverance.com/" target="_blank">julia</a>'s dog. i almost put her in my purse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
From Ann's I went to the expo to pick up my packet and peruse the expo. I practiced restraint and only bought one shirt, mostly because it had Minnesota on it. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjqOkDHc2Mgdt_msFli5adwschDLfhWWmahuMLuAAvTJAARWN5zgF6VaBIj0b2OQLOg_DWhF0EpKnTxALphrPA_UNS3zho7imki5tEX4QTNRkSH65OoPNRKdpQ-pYBwGCjNd6_NMw35OH/s1600/IMG_20121010_073302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIjqOkDHc2Mgdt_msFli5adwschDLfhWWmahuMLuAAvTJAARWN5zgF6VaBIj0b2OQLOg_DWhF0EpKnTxALphrPA_UNS3zho7imki5tEX4QTNRkSH65OoPNRKdpQ-pYBwGCjNd6_NMw35OH/s400/IMG_20121010_073302.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>run for it, twin cities '12</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Saturday night is where things get crazy. I went to <a href="http://thebachelorfarmer.com/" target="_blank">The Bachelor Farmer</a> for dinner and decided to carb load with their gimlet (which is seriously the best I've found in this city) and popover with honey butter. Top 10 favorite foods. EVER. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdAeZgclktQo-hTZDNqyhtt8sl_25lHdP7nQBlNPjDcb1EoMHduKESqhbBno_oiPMf1pVNF45tt1JDULp-V737VvpK0aCdZ3s0gHFA7F75ZKtCdCPI_BCOoVixBUz8StH4oiusKp3AyUo/s1600/IMG_20121006_183159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdAeZgclktQo-hTZDNqyhtt8sl_25lHdP7nQBlNPjDcb1EoMHduKESqhbBno_oiPMf1pVNF45tt1JDULp-V737VvpK0aCdZ3s0gHFA7F75ZKtCdCPI_BCOoVixBUz8StH4oiusKp3AyUo/s400/IMG_20121006_183159.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this is one of my favorite places in minneapolis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjasJ_mG5XIUe4ooQGeUKk4qhOAG74DK0iZ0tSJHl3FizoMcaqxcUhWFJGsUwwvZhqb15gWh1ky8QOWDz_aNy2eNfZW7X7ZbOFaBZPdxDlgPk2kjBQUNYaf6LxSGXRIF7wFvYDIgKsYQkf5/s1600/IMG_20121006_192116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjasJ_mG5XIUe4ooQGeUKk4qhOAG74DK0iZ0tSJHl3FizoMcaqxcUhWFJGsUwwvZhqb15gWh1ky8QOWDz_aNy2eNfZW7X7ZbOFaBZPdxDlgPk2kjBQUNYaf6LxSGXRIF7wFvYDIgKsYQkf5/s400/IMG_20121006_192116.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of two</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
From dinner I went to an art party on Harriet Island and continued carb loading with wine and beer. Blame it on the mood of the party- or all the carbs I had- but I felt compelled to take a mirror self-portrait. Savor it, friends, because it doesn't happen often. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz65plL4iK5kasUBjqQJGBxbJkUP-oE9uqh-1BohuJoCHVkrM30rc6g-QMpyM_uw6Sz14a1MyaPAkPve_OBWxj8_VtwhrsyL6KQQSf5jU2qsKyGEscDk4wzIeh1EV6REsPZflx4rQGEiDu/s1600/IMG_20121006_213405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz65plL4iK5kasUBjqQJGBxbJkUP-oE9uqh-1BohuJoCHVkrM30rc6g-QMpyM_uw6Sz14a1MyaPAkPve_OBWxj8_VtwhrsyL6KQQSf5jU2qsKyGEscDk4wzIeh1EV6REsPZflx4rQGEiDu/s400/IMG_20121006_213405.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
I told myself I would stop imbibing at nine but it was probably more like ten. I was in bed by 11.<br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Sunday- RACE DAY! </b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I woke up at 4am in a panic. I literally have never prepared so little for a marathon and the gravity of covering 26.2 miles (with a hangover) freaked me out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I got out of bed, drank a ton of water, took ibuprofen, and started to assemble my race day outfit. Because obviously I wasn't going back to sleep. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I did manage to lay back down and rest but by six my alarm officially went off. Despite having been up mere half hour prior laying out an outfit, I found myself staring at my clothes on the floor, debating what I should actually put on.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qeFtqVm4tIGzR-tCex19A7SjXqCEDPaigcEqC5fAArJ2IkpLMZYlhrYuw1m9hSUn7LJV5B87PZPjFrxgtOonc9__TrpTeO5dAbfsyZRBvbsNXx3QmZM-j2MksrBcvIkM1Cs2PxhCj9wy/s1600/Picture1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="65" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9qeFtqVm4tIGzR-tCex19A7SjXqCEDPaigcEqC5fAArJ2IkpLMZYlhrYuw1m9hSUn7LJV5B87PZPjFrxgtOonc9__TrpTeO5dAbfsyZRBvbsNXx3QmZM-j2MksrBcvIkM1Cs2PxhCj9wy/s400/Picture1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The temp was 29 degrees and my pace was going to be slow. I bought running tights on a whim from Target the night before, but wearing them would be breaking the Cardinal Rule of marathoning: <i>Don't try anything new on race day.</i> Never one for rules, I put them on under my shorts.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
My dad picked me up and we found ourselves in Corral 3 in no time.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskIihQLS4UAHHDOBOgO8pmNbwfUJaeR86TFznlF4UOxDMfwU6VB_-9bMcg2BC63ACKlUuWBWKGMJF9fehYx-5XcSl7_RfgCq2z9wYG15rnR_HiubY7pvya_V-pR5OIqE5L_8dqlGhQ1eP/s1600/IMG_20121007_075358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskIihQLS4UAHHDOBOgO8pmNbwfUJaeR86TFznlF4UOxDMfwU6VB_-9bMcg2BC63ACKlUuWBWKGMJF9fehYx-5XcSl7_RfgCq2z9wYG15rnR_HiubY7pvya_V-pR5OIqE5L_8dqlGhQ1eP/s400/IMG_20121007_075358.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXATUYWgLIDXST3F_Q-m2Wz9QaF3wPbn7697IGIjHso8wabUE0JsSa0CpU82Tf3dmmt1UKX4wMCdHSFos5AsneabFPb4rY_Hrs8xSELYl-Xlv3OdhVN6v6UxwsPl8UJDnAWn8vm1Re-Vt1/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXATUYWgLIDXST3F_Q-m2Wz9QaF3wPbn7697IGIjHso8wabUE0JsSa0CpU82Tf3dmmt1UKX4wMCdHSFos5AsneabFPb4rY_Hrs8xSELYl-Xlv3OdhVN6v6UxwsPl8UJDnAWn8vm1Re-Vt1/s400/008.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hi, we're cold</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Roughly 10 minutes after the gun, we crossed the start line.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKKeREpBs3rbHPDIyH06qNp17Se6MbZtXWC95T-qM0Rr9BLXVfkaxmbHrWQ3dLXC-I0GAueZt92sJuauSYMnbByDvDuK_ankLx3IzXnQIQWqg2sJbR3zGH2wa6yjtBgemCB3uAEXU5fX1/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKKeREpBs3rbHPDIyH06qNp17Se6MbZtXWC95T-qM0Rr9BLXVfkaxmbHrWQ3dLXC-I0GAueZt92sJuauSYMnbByDvDuK_ankLx3IzXnQIQWqg2sJbR3zGH2wa6yjtBgemCB3uAEXU5fX1/s400/011.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">corral 3 is on the move</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The
first miles flew by as we trotted along between a 11:30-12 minute pace.
The course wasn't as crowded as I thought it would be and it gave us
plenty of opportunity to talk (and take pictures). </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4P55jxEJn0ZRIESmLxrAR5vIU47o844dbVLVrIqcoU_g_rV0aBxo6Mv8oRqDmueNL4jdQ4jdhKbsZWAQWH0mvY1XkvJWTpnjmhZb82QG6m5iuux1SqECk7Bi-LCGHnANT0lD_eC-p7CAC/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4P55jxEJn0ZRIESmLxrAR5vIU47o844dbVLVrIqcoU_g_rV0aBxo6Mv8oRqDmueNL4jdQ4jdhKbsZWAQWH0mvY1XkvJWTpnjmhZb82QG6m5iuux1SqECk7Bi-LCGHnANT0lD_eC-p7CAC/s400/012.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dad approaching the walker hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9k0byFmx8lmsBvOkiD0KM7rzpbfaFKJ9hkKLcGWIvG_fUlKuYSQrh_dUgGGPZK-Qz4NPgtUWWDHLH1XC4XSQN8hVuVJDBeeYh2RNDyHqc-4d0Rx5rf6q38mI9Jul2RlYnwN8nkzH8kSSL/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9k0byFmx8lmsBvOkiD0KM7rzpbfaFKJ9hkKLcGWIvG_fUlKuYSQrh_dUgGGPZK-Qz4NPgtUWWDHLH1XC4XSQN8hVuVJDBeeYh2RNDyHqc-4d0Rx5rf6q38mI9Jul2RlYnwN8nkzH8kSSL/s400/013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">full uniform, with a pack. whoa.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYtjb5p4BiqnQnJkVk0EgTibmO713FMO77-HPpIYvT0wjlSzdl66k4PHN8pv69hzc9fV9qfkNAxiABHxtisXeUYT2Qp0ivy7UHVEp__zf08bTI2RnpeQwcGNKpudDgXGWB7gD6YD6bY8r/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYtjb5p4BiqnQnJkVk0EgTibmO713FMO77-HPpIYvT0wjlSzdl66k4PHN8pv69hzc9fV9qfkNAxiABHxtisXeUYT2Qp0ivy7UHVEp__zf08bTI2RnpeQwcGNKpudDgXGWB7gD6YD6bY8r/s400/014.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">water stop at mile 2.5. love those volunteers!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqrRMvvzLuzoZmLnEvNSTUqQDX9LjtQ0dieIvjyUGIZeeMSqWMHf3UhJvsq40C59QBxY-gezZLHfVrn13XacxSYgH3ol-JmTs6YPbHHcKgKRYXjT__j2KazlrvHxgsC7HFvxBm3AR7I39i/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqrRMvvzLuzoZmLnEvNSTUqQDX9LjtQ0dieIvjyUGIZeeMSqWMHf3UhJvsq40C59QBxY-gezZLHfVrn13XacxSYgH3ol-JmTs6YPbHHcKgKRYXjT__j2KazlrvHxgsC7HFvxBm3AR7I39i/s400/015.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lake of the isles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmaDzHhH2qeMhjDqKLTgxm0Yd7q9nHUWgIedak9YV1EJOy0G0P-55FcCzIlvYDtPq0a5Q5WDdS8qTt4ZDHrwKMPCKNgIuAZFBe2RHskbEhGFP2bvGm50wlF_4ISpr9HjsoCN09rtUP-Qs/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYmaDzHhH2qeMhjDqKLTgxm0Yd7q9nHUWgIedak9YV1EJOy0G0P-55FcCzIlvYDtPq0a5Q5WDdS8qTt4ZDHrwKMPCKNgIuAZFBe2RHskbEhGFP2bvGm50wlF_4ISpr9HjsoCN09rtUP-Qs/s400/017.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dad, lake calhoun and the city</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I felt good and was happy to just be running with my dad. We'd chat with people as we passed them- or they passed us. Either way, we were at Mile 10 before we knew it. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My decision to wear my new capris, though, was starting to wear on me. Literally. Chafe city. In the Worst Place possible. I pulled off into a porta potty at Lake Nokomis and took them off, which also involved removing my shoes. It was the fastest I've ever changed. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I caught up with my dad just before the half and we continued moving along. We called my brother and sister and put them on speaker to give them an update on how things were going and I snapped this of my dad to prove he was still alive. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXYYrrJSfd4KzaawoDmwRPDjz83cQ_2Bp1ZFYICGDQwi4QHbXI7Shdd-atYZYyNIZJEiIry17LQNl_Mq5kBnSr6zAAwCO8Zxhh_V4ksyQXkgR0h9bztshYlvxCDVl9NQwyFgkrmSDmW7o/s1600/20121007_104355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXYYrrJSfd4KzaawoDmwRPDjz83cQ_2Bp1ZFYICGDQwi4QHbXI7Shdd-atYZYyNIZJEiIry17LQNl_Mq5kBnSr6zAAwCO8Zxhh_V4ksyQXkgR0h9bztshYlvxCDVl9NQwyFgkrmSDmW7o/s400/20121007_104355.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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We finally saw our family around mile 15. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLl9c5J-i8pkiCiVWD7TW_Nz-UpYBov-fYAvrcKZ536Iyg_CtoN_0PJuGKejaJ_yo2j4j1GDgH8M8pDlWgcn3uzBFK6o14ZODCNBa-TDiZcV5KI6eOYMQ7VB77TUXZY39g9zGm0A0lSR2/s1600/IMG_20121007_111538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLl9c5J-i8pkiCiVWD7TW_Nz-UpYBov-fYAvrcKZ536Iyg_CtoN_0PJuGKejaJ_yo2j4j1GDgH8M8pDlWgcn3uzBFK6o14ZODCNBa-TDiZcV5KI6eOYMQ7VB77TUXZY39g9zGm0A0lSR2/s400/IMG_20121007_111538.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">yay for sisters!</td></tr>
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I was definitely enjoying the fall colors along Minnehaha Parkway....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqzGg5rLGwB9LbVPFxLhvYgwJwMhyf718mOA2oJFcdP419Yxqralkk7rwYDTMAgGPs1ujkYnKwSfuukwE8tL5Q3DmabQ7lTs3V4Cu6aKUrTwq8WMYJYwljybiwOfkWqWooo6Tg39I46XX/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqzGg5rLGwB9LbVPFxLhvYgwJwMhyf718mOA2oJFcdP419Yxqralkk7rwYDTMAgGPs1ujkYnKwSfuukwE8tL5Q3DmabQ7lTs3V4Cu6aKUrTwq8WMYJYwljybiwOfkWqWooo6Tg39I46XX/s400/021.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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But then we came across this!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/NdzhwQBtniI?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>
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The <a href="http://twelve-in-twelve.com/2012/10/dancing-robots-twin-cities-marathon/" target="_blank">BEST SPECTATORS EVER</a>! Ann and Jay were out there for like 2.5 hours dancing their butts off. I had to stop to document this.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAffD3lJg_bl7U2NUZWtQXV1WbOWnoKfylHEETLmKbSYy_iB3IBfv0bjiUwiETCWguRRzXDDTTRLX_4Pat-GrosFrs5k7EQdfWqak1d6JPUiaXD-G-buNls4yyfLWiJ7abh_HDIgYS2-40/s1600/robots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAffD3lJg_bl7U2NUZWtQXV1WbOWnoKfylHEETLmKbSYy_iB3IBfv0bjiUwiETCWguRRzXDDTTRLX_4Pat-GrosFrs5k7EQdfWqak1d6JPUiaXD-G-buNls4yyfLWiJ7abh_HDIgYS2-40/s400/robots.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was shortly after this that our pace started to slow even more and I noticed my dad grimacing. I asked what was up and he told me he had hernia. Furthermore, he's had it since JUNE and didn't want to get surgery because then he wouldn't have been able to run. Hats off, Bill. That takes guts. Literally.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvigfdmRCFk7vp38sW7v97BfdBHUJqYPiz89r8yhBQeHbUDX-uB-VJSvE6V3ZRPQWECAumDoboqDRR3gXkrXrOOeDceXirG162v8JXWfFp-qADsNEbpJ_B_NlTDKW1_x06X3SVDcP7QoHQ/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvigfdmRCFk7vp38sW7v97BfdBHUJqYPiz89r8yhBQeHbUDX-uB-VJSvE6V3ZRPQWECAumDoboqDRR3gXkrXrOOeDceXirG162v8JXWfFp-qADsNEbpJ_B_NlTDKW1_x06X3SVDcP7QoHQ/s400/023.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">we focused on scenery rather than pain. franklin bridge</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWqFJ5y79Y5DuFEGquWaB447gQmbZjYhoU3mhXi_XF0RrQtd9RX-PwXp5V9ta48Ut35OPFunKl1bqd74g9uHyhUw1QBt__Twtb6Vw1H8YSQnn3zC6e-p93niNqOT5Al_2GehipjNdM2ck/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWqFJ5y79Y5DuFEGquWaB447gQmbZjYhoU3mhXi_XF0RrQtd9RX-PwXp5V9ta48Ut35OPFunKl1bqd74g9uHyhUw1QBt__Twtb6Vw1H8YSQnn3zC6e-p93niNqOT5Al_2GehipjNdM2ck/s400/027.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">wall schmall. we went right through it</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqaBdW3UesRlZwPjoBG7KyKFmAHWvvrQ2YGDpLQSHIya9po1YBN83OEksYIsEUwE7-nccCOWYKbJRxQ4N_05vsTMudZV99NHpxtyIoVUMESQvnuBCcQZYzEQmmxM5gXG8oo7tEcZjKFzr/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyqaBdW3UesRlZwPjoBG7KyKFmAHWvvrQ2YGDpLQSHIya9po1YBN83OEksYIsEUwE7-nccCOWYKbJRxQ4N_05vsTMudZV99NHpxtyIoVUMESQvnuBCcQZYzEQmmxM5gXG8oo7tEcZjKFzr/s400/029.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">finally on summit</td></tr>
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Dad was starting to hurt big time and we were definitely doing more walking than running. I tweeted this picture with the caption <i>Dad hates life. 23</i> because seriously, doesn't he look miserable?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz-21YssB3BbM-A1Mr38lrb9Oj_y1YDA4Iv6mVO2p0kVkXHg-HNpP-P4H4TMCLptcjkNAQXTB_UqVY4tZ6FiyULJRH6x-yOJLnWOMaL5Q91G7p-iN0orA6fsCtiL6rbbSTkICA1bWUqEh/s1600/IMG_20121007_130539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaz-21YssB3BbM-A1Mr38lrb9Oj_y1YDA4Iv6mVO2p0kVkXHg-HNpP-P4H4TMCLptcjkNAQXTB_UqVY4tZ6FiyULJRH6x-yOJLnWOMaL5Q91G7p-iN0orA6fsCtiL6rbbSTkICA1bWUqEh/s400/IMG_20121007_130539.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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But then we saw this and morale improved!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDoRqYF0OhEMiiXFYjVnOKlf575l8G2UPa31mVnlOqapZtHOd4LwfCGHelNxyW3UPmrDrOXtut_JiUHYMl85ycldDtXNSCUovih7u7_RpiZV4OO2m3nEbhpL56YSSJQaDluLBkov36pll/s1600/030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDoRqYF0OhEMiiXFYjVnOKlf575l8G2UPa31mVnlOqapZtHOd4LwfCGHelNxyW3UPmrDrOXtut_JiUHYMl85ycldDtXNSCUovih7u7_RpiZV4OO2m3nEbhpL56YSSJQaDluLBkov36pll/s400/030.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmKXMSWbtId8Nhe2xRvk0uG4FCbFVkk8biwq9tcfxtXX2l8qCIUNG51KU2uvHmRUzq-J5vKco6tqk7Rm9naxoVs3U-gWhganyaRGt1n8JkCECUS6rlpSamGw4zj8OTYir59nYzCkszhh8/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDmKXMSWbtId8Nhe2xRvk0uG4FCbFVkk8biwq9tcfxtXX2l8qCIUNG51KU2uvHmRUzq-J5vKco6tqk7Rm9naxoVs3U-gWhganyaRGt1n8JkCECUS6rlpSamGw4zj8OTYir59nYzCkszhh8/s400/031.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dad knocking one back. i already drank mine </td></tr>
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Soon enough, this: <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HJTZoUvtqbUARFt6AHPqTmtqU2HKrxkP3HrfnITNkDK0UhiHzqVdDzV0UDYVj2kNboHIMdm9Ml_NmF6ruheZvrUCQ5bALnBI2TMt2UHMJo2uaxRVJ0yUGlad-Fz6ZEK-3FGj0YB1q-iq/s1600/035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6HJTZoUvtqbUARFt6AHPqTmtqU2HKrxkP3HrfnITNkDK0UhiHzqVdDzV0UDYVj2kNboHIMdm9Ml_NmF6ruheZvrUCQ5bALnBI2TMt2UHMJo2uaxRVJ0yUGlad-Fz6ZEK-3FGj0YB1q-iq/s400/035.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">there's a finish line there somewhere</td></tr>
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And then this happened:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKHepjoj1EIcny9u2br9lrRCAzbHVwAyr36RDiFXdV2k9-Ng0ylp25R4xNxTtM1Bqcib6o725N5kuMF8hxmcWEOoheW0_gOCciAOdgTOeTaAiE2-3bM2UNRFQxwH2CDlPzeP2gVL4d2m7/s1600/dadmarathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKHepjoj1EIcny9u2br9lrRCAzbHVwAyr36RDiFXdV2k9-Ng0ylp25R4xNxTtM1Bqcib6o725N5kuMF8hxmcWEOoheW0_gOCciAOdgTOeTaAiE2-3bM2UNRFQxwH2CDlPzeP2gVL4d2m7/s400/dadmarathon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my new fave picture. thanks, colleen!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCi4WVFukqr7qy8Tk6PFRM8ygoVxUtCNGgvSX9gVEvzHeNPqlkx_yJcjb4xgUxRy21HlyZAwasFeIObsm-6JGjvPhuPRZcOJxFSlY1q3Skmbv0a9Wii_DS6Mrjw97dV3uQRgwyqZ_iJgbL/s1600/IMG_20121008_144116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCi4WVFukqr7qy8Tk6PFRM8ygoVxUtCNGgvSX9gVEvzHeNPqlkx_yJcjb4xgUxRy21HlyZAwasFeIObsm-6JGjvPhuPRZcOJxFSlY1q3Skmbv0a9Wii_DS6Mrjw97dV3uQRgwyqZ_iJgbL/s400/IMG_20121008_144116.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So four years after our first marathon together, we did our last. Dad says he's done with marathons for good. </div>
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We'll see. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-43495143584120634392012-10-07T19:52:00.000-05:002012-10-08T16:34:24.077-05:00finishers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpZZfpUH59u53o4V0FaKAUcyuEa3pd-c94tMycXv3YpoJG_-CMZzAjbV-HsClXWf2zM6V-8NkkeLSa3n3U2NOQhWIi2FhquZiCa-bTFZOZ_ANs8B5TqBVOSCSzLrI9scPFNQdIzpub816/s1600/dadmarathon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpZZfpUH59u53o4V0FaKAUcyuEa3pd-c94tMycXv3YpoJG_-CMZzAjbV-HsClXWf2zM6V-8NkkeLSa3n3U2NOQhWIi2FhquZiCa-bTFZOZ_ANs8B5TqBVOSCSzLrI9scPFNQdIzpub816/s400/dadmarathon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just in time</td></tr>
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It was an amazing day. Full recap (with photos) to come whenever I feel like writing it. Thank you all for your cheers and support, both on the course and from afar. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-88063800126770107652012-10-05T09:17:00.001-05:002012-10-05T09:22:14.630-05:00stalk me when i run (and other marathon things)<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>STALK ME </b><br />
The Twin Cities Marathon is on Sunday and for those of you that are supremely interested in my progress (or lack thereof) you can <a href="http://athletetracker.cloudapp.net/" target="_blank">track me </a>via text messages on your phone. Neat-o, right? You have to register to track me by tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m., so procrastinate on something else and go sign up now!</div>
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<b>RACE PLAN </b><br />
<a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2012/09/so-im-supposed-to-run-marathon.html" target="_blank">I was quite vague</a> about my dad and my race plan but we seriously hadn't discussed anything beyond <i>run until we feel like stopping while staying in front of the sweep bus</i>. Since then, though, we've come up with a plan of a 12 minute pace. That's roughly a 5:15 marathon<b> </b>(and 4 minutes slower per mile than my <a href="http://www.feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2010/11/im-late.html" target="_blank">PR</a>). The course time limit is 6 hours. He has a history of starting too fast and burning out so my goal is to keep him slow through mile 18 and then we can pick it up from there. </div>
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<b>RACE DAY </b><br />
The weather on race day should be phenomenal, albeit cold at race start. Throw-away sweats are being sourced. <b>If you're spectating, please leave a comment about what miles you'll be at. </b></div>
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<b>LINGERING QUESTIONS</b><i> (feel free to weigh in or just ignore these)</i></div>
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1. Should I run with my a) camera (pictures with no immediate social interaction) b) phone (pictures with immediate social interaction) or c) neither? I usually don't run with anything but at this pace, I think I could manage a few photos. Worth it or not? </div>
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2. My dad doesn't think I'll physically be able to run that slow for that long and thinks I'm going to ditch him. I'm not. However, if he drops for whatever reason, should I keep going or stop, too?<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-4988320567875683242012-06-03T21:15:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:47:19.789-05:00race recap: Livestock 5K<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>The short version:</b> I ran a 5K yesterday in 21:59, was somehow the first female (small towns ARE good for something!) and my splits were 6:46, 7:15, 7:20 and 7:03 for the last .1. Additionally, I think I have the stomach flu. <br />
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<b>The long version:</b> Yesterday I ran my slowest 5K in three years. Like I <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2012/05/base-race.html" target="_blank">mentioned</a>, I wanted to use this race as a basis for my training paces in the upcoming months. </div>
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<b>pre-race </b><br />
I decided to stay at my apartment on Friday night instead of driving down to stay at my mom's, mostly so I could run to Yogurt Lab for my <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/04/ugh.html" target="_blank">typical pre-race bribe</a>. Yes, <i>run</i>. I told myself that if I wanted the sweet deliciousness that is frozen yogurt, I'd have to get there on foot, which is roughly .8 miles away from my apartment. I jogged there, paid an ungodly amount of money for what was approximately a pound of sugar, and then walked (while eating it) home. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m6GEKsOG_HmhHsGv2V0qpZ77EvQFb8Ocip2fQciLoeANMFa4H5f4CY1UfSJ5AVOIAW1EBz66QhvZL6BeSzTyEr1PC6KTz3eZlCutZUG1nP_YrJAXtTmrMd0sQ5vLs5ILVpQ-KI6ppfqZ/s1600/20120601_195517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-m6GEKsOG_HmhHsGv2V0qpZ77EvQFb8Ocip2fQciLoeANMFa4H5f4CY1UfSJ5AVOIAW1EBz66QhvZL6BeSzTyEr1PC6KTz3eZlCutZUG1nP_YrJAXtTmrMd0sQ5vLs5ILVpQ-KI6ppfqZ/s400/20120601_195517.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. </i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The next morning I woke up with my stomach in knots. I thought it was just nerves and went to make coffee to encourage a little pre-race cleansing. Turns out I didn't even need coffee and spent the next half hour going over a list of everything I ate the day prior, trying to come up with an answer to what would make me so violently ill. I decided it was frozen yogurt or nerves, and hoped that whatever it was had worked it's way out. </div>
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I grabbed my coffee and a Larabar and hit the road for the hour+ drive to St. Peter. I didn't feel like eating anything but managed to choke down half a Larabar and a few sips of coffee. I just was not feeling well. When I got to the race site, I headed straight for the bathroom in attempt to quiet my rumbling stomach. (My friend <a href="http://tenaciouslyyours.com/" target="_blank">Kat </a>says <i>that it's just a matter of time before every runner poops their pants and we're all just on borrowed time</i>. I sincerely began to worry that my time might be up.)</div>
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<b>the race </b><br />
When the gun went off, I made an effort to not get swept up in the people speeding out and to just run my own race. I checked my watch about a quarter mile in and saw 7:13, which was what I had intended on running. </div>
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The people that had started quickly began to slow and I picked them off, soon coming up on the first girl. I thought briefly about staying behind her but knew that if I slowed, it would defeat the entire purpose of this race, which was to determine where I'm at with my fitness. As I passed her, I could hear that her breathing was really labored. </div>
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When my watch beeped my mile split, I was shocked to see 6:46. I could feel the pain that is 5K agony but told myself to not worry about it and to just keep running. Mile two was 7:15, my old goal marathon pace. </div>
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<br />
At mile 2.5 the course began a long, slow climb and it took every ounce of energy to not walk up it. I knew that once I got to the top, it was pretty much a downhill to the finish. The descent, though, did little except tire out my shaky legs and I just hoped to hold on through the finish. I came through the third mile in 7:20 </div>
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<br />
I crossed the line in 21:59, my slowest 5K in years. I did not feel great at all (though there was no barfing). I ran about a mile cool down, running back up the course to cheer on my mom, her friend Heather, and my siblings. My mom ended up running her fastest 5K! <br />
<br />
<b>post-race </b><br />
I had no idea that they gave awards out so I was pleasantly surprised when they gave me the absolutely cutest medal (a cowbell!), an entry into next year's race and a gift card to a local coffee shop. Very cool!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgBMxnTwdhx6lFfEhd3-dTDCSO_wxKjmeCysaGKjgGkR3f7gXQZrm9ePHeBrS6_YsV2zmHLa-LD2WvP4TyljwCgxzoiGkQDbeDrbSAi1HRoZjrTQ8IZftIxcZ8_gtYKYLyVc5nMHkMiDs/s1600/599604_372446112804110_312427672139288_893150_1296791862_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgBMxnTwdhx6lFfEhd3-dTDCSO_wxKjmeCysaGKjgGkR3f7gXQZrm9ePHeBrS6_YsV2zmHLa-LD2WvP4TyljwCgxzoiGkQDbeDrbSAi1HRoZjrTQ8IZftIxcZ8_gtYKYLyVc5nMHkMiDs/s400/599604_372446112804110_312427672139288_893150_1296791862_n.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>
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Here we all are post-race. My mom (left of me in the photo) is a big fan of pictures. Settle in, friends, I'm going to show them all. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihWsrvj5g1IFVO9N4l0tInmK897Qru0MXUrgFZbgWzwkkK63XJKKmqbulNkqJoXw3qpHTvzXpSSdj9GKC1DzzGtgNH8qtPmYiPtwmeSmjnwzGgk98PU8C6Q84ZNwosUIfiuIlfWRz6Z7lM/s1600/Spring+2011+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihWsrvj5g1IFVO9N4l0tInmK897Qru0MXUrgFZbgWzwkkK63XJKKmqbulNkqJoXw3qpHTvzXpSSdj9GKC1DzzGtgNH8qtPmYiPtwmeSmjnwzGgk98PU8C6Q84ZNwosUIfiuIlfWRz6Z7lM/s400/Spring+2011+010.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">L- R: mom, me, Heather, Jenny, Kyle, Whitney (sister), Johnny (brother)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXEeu1m5siB23OD3hA_PDuVa1MNytAzvX3G8bSG1dWVITH5y1wV_2BKAwjiEbJ1Hb4sR7_FTg6U5kIsAaaTGWtVfLBDbx1PW2h8kmMyPAvJo-xCol1ybhC2DVF_oFmAuhYDvu6_dFP6Dy/s1600/Spring+2011+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikXEeu1m5siB23OD3hA_PDuVa1MNytAzvX3G8bSG1dWVITH5y1wV_2BKAwjiEbJ1Hb4sR7_FTg6U5kIsAaaTGWtVfLBDbx1PW2h8kmMyPAvJo-xCol1ybhC2DVF_oFmAuhYDvu6_dFP6Dy/s400/Spring+2011+011.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and then my mom wanted one that was "closer"</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrtL5jK1W4afpMohLiemdNZC8Y0MwfWDIb-iyBmi_upXRz1vKAt5sOajW8BpOQ0fZG0_njheTJU4X0ukW4qT-H8TEGGN04OFbj2zdZiSN3XvGSPs_4Z5buoAnoEt5yvwP3TkDHMWV4WFG/s1600/Spring+2011+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrtL5jK1W4afpMohLiemdNZC8Y0MwfWDIb-iyBmi_upXRz1vKAt5sOajW8BpOQ0fZG0_njheTJU4X0ukW4qT-H8TEGGN04OFbj2zdZiSN3XvGSPs_4Z5buoAnoEt5yvwP3TkDHMWV4WFG/s400/Spring+2011+013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and then she wanted one of our backs with our <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2010/04/first-friday.html" target="_blank">Joel </a>pics </td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsVV-GtOqCGufSrHPTgChXeEz9y1Jasg91llUlEhYy5-sH1MJvM9RN0q5juZfpAgUjNWBVg31aGYQXcn4Xw2xj0zX0fX11Xym5DMX4fFvxfaftb565xz4O2ckJQ8efkyLqy5flnQdJ5YE/s1600/Spring+2011+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsVV-GtOqCGufSrHPTgChXeEz9y1Jasg91llUlEhYy5-sH1MJvM9RN0q5juZfpAgUjNWBVg31aGYQXcn4Xw2xj0zX0fX11Xym5DMX4fFvxfaftb565xz4O2ckJQ8efkyLqy5flnQdJ5YE/s400/Spring+2011+016.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and then she wanted one of us together</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WnRCrGKQsXlkHntvdsrTHRDL1Rn-zs7DsYiDXD8yDn9o006ALJorAEBcwLp4KrHh4MXGRBwlBQPoGBnUjakzZBsOE5tyGSRNOkbKJojZhXF57PJsZwJPqzJoVlE4XpTnGW0q_KdGWt-h/s1600/Spring+2011+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WnRCrGKQsXlkHntvdsrTHRDL1Rn-zs7DsYiDXD8yDn9o006ALJorAEBcwLp4KrHh4MXGRBwlBQPoGBnUjakzZBsOE5tyGSRNOkbKJojZhXF57PJsZwJPqzJoVlE4XpTnGW0q_KdGWt-h/s400/Spring+2011+020.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's one of the banner they got to put up because they were sponsors</td></tr>
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<br />
After our marathon photo session was over, we went to River Rock and had breakfast. They make something called a Spanish Latte and I have no idea what is in it but it's really good. If you're ever in St. Peter, stop and get one. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3qO1a_7hxPHGB1ZgKlF3GMmNSj6gWr6fgKA-EmcAS9NRYImG3QxIdpkOdI384v6IIH3w_yv1Ityi15L782BQnQx3EtFSrkgjCdjpvc1LnXK_t8P_1x8Ubvmw3ukuCfFS1Pz34gcITKFK/s1600/20120602_094350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3qO1a_7hxPHGB1ZgKlF3GMmNSj6gWr6fgKA-EmcAS9NRYImG3QxIdpkOdI384v6IIH3w_yv1Ityi15L782BQnQx3EtFSrkgjCdjpvc1LnXK_t8P_1x8Ubvmw3ukuCfFS1Pz34gcITKFK/s400/20120602_094350.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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I felt nauseous during breakfast, a feeling that didn't go away all day, even after a two hour nap at my parent's. I got up to try to drive home around 4 p.m. and ended up laying down on the kitchen floor because I was so light-headed. I finally left their house at 7 and fell asleep on my couch when I got home.<br />
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Today has been a little touch and go. I felt sick after eating breakfast and lunch. I just had dinner and I'm feeling okay. Knock on wood it was only a 24 hour thing. Busy week ahead... <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-79204751155927071742012-04-23T22:41:00.000-05:002018-05-08T13:48:11.516-05:00my first race & other weekend activities<div style="text-align: justify;">
Saturday was the first time I've pinned on a race number since <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/09/ragnar-recap.html" target="_blank">Ragnar Relay</a> last August. </div>
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I ran the the Trail Mix race at Hyland and I found three other poor souls to do the 50K relay with me. Relay is misleading because it's not a relay at all, rather a team event where everyone runs the 7.75 mile loop together and then all our times are added up. </div>
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Because I haven't been running much lately, I wanted to run this just for fun and stayed with my brother the whole time. We both crossed the finish line at 1:13:29, roughly a 9:27 pace. Since we had speedy dudes on our team, we ended up finishing 22nd overall (out of 95 teams) and 5th in our division of uneven mixed. Not too shabby. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWKHm4ClrY5dGsmeCxyUodxmB6V4ttdurmC_AFU49PZ2B5xdx5LEt1Y7sHs0cuh1XO12sFGgP_zWiVrl8LhTPTLzGc_4vICatV5ve1wqlsvjhHGhMMbhzmyOBswqXrDPqc33CULNDy6FbV/s1600/trail+mix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWKHm4ClrY5dGsmeCxyUodxmB6V4ttdurmC_AFU49PZ2B5xdx5LEt1Y7sHs0cuh1XO12sFGgP_zWiVrl8LhTPTLzGc_4vICatV5ve1wqlsvjhHGhMMbhzmyOBswqXrDPqc33CULNDy6FbV/s400/trail+mix.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Team "Three Men and a Lady"</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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It was actually a great day for the race weather-wise but by the time I got home, my sweat had cooled me down significantly and I was freezing! I spent a good twenty minutes just trying to warm up in the shower before jetting off to see my two little brothers in a play at their school. </div>
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After watching a wonderful performance- and getting a lesson in morals (it's Catholic school, after all)- I went to one of my favorite places in Northeast MSP, <a href="http://www.psychosuzis.com/" target="_blank">Pyscho Suzi'</a>s for Krisi's birthday. I had a drink called 'one-eyed willy' which is like a coconut version of a Long Island. Warmed me right up. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sth5PMlRHdJfab0xb_V1dmDmOhhZS5BVMh-RVEMCVHR-8qP6_9XFfWf_KlFMTTgKhJhybAoLvvJbqWxOxAsPwemrmePjY1RRLj0WYZmr_Kz7XriEQ03DpUQqlgPjdgolI7R9Fyj6SnsA/s1600/krisiandme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sth5PMlRHdJfab0xb_V1dmDmOhhZS5BVMh-RVEMCVHR-8qP6_9XFfWf_KlFMTTgKhJhybAoLvvJbqWxOxAsPwemrmePjY1RRLj0WYZmr_Kz7XriEQ03DpUQqlgPjdgolI7R9Fyj6SnsA/s400/krisiandme.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">extra points if you noticed my finger in his nose</td></tr>
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The festivities continued as I ventured to Colleen's to "our" housewarming party. (I'm there so much they made me an honorary roommate.) There were burgers. There were drinks. There was magic... like literally magic because I became <i>animated </i>enough to bust out some card tricks and then sing <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3OvJriXYLw&feature=related" target="_blank">this song</a> when they would ask how I did it. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I returned home from my magical evening to discover the Lindsay Lohan had passed away. It's true: I couldn't keep a fish alive for a week. Sad day. She was buried at sea. </div>
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Despite Saturday night's activities, I was still able to make it up and out the door for a short shakeout run at 7:30 the next morning. Church, lunch, a movie with my little sister, and a sushi dinner rounded out my Sunday. </div>
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Right now my biggest struggle is trying to find a balance between running and the rest of my life. I think I'm currently skewing a bit towards the "life" part. This week: Breathing. Refocusing. Moving forward. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-10291936650943703732012-03-11T23:05:00.000-05:002012-03-11T23:05:30.164-05:00when PE has nothing to do with gym classSettle in, friends, this could be a long one. I had started this post on Thursday night when I got home from work. It was originally titled "a running update" and this is as far as I got before I left to go to Julie's house for a little baby QT:<br />
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<br /></div>
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<em>This week is my third full week of following a training schedule and already I'm running into setbacks. </em></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>For starters, I'm 99% sure I have pleurisy again, which is some weirdo Little House on the Prairie disease. It's probably because I'm from Le Sueur (kidding, hicks). Imagine a knife stabbing you under your clavicle and in your back when you take a deep breath. </em><em>It's painful. I started to feel it big time after yoga on Monday night, ignored it on my run on Tuesday and yet again last night as I pounded out a "quick" four miles on treadmill. Today, though, there's no ignoring it. Every laugh, every cough, every deep breath hurts. I could go to the doctor but truthfully there isn't anything they can do for it. It's just pain and it's not going to kill me but it makes me want to punch my lungs in the face. </em></div>
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____________</div>
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<br />
The last line I wrote will seem especially ironic by the end of this post. Continuing...</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
So Thursday night after Julie's, I brought Colleen home and went it for a cocktail and to watch The Office. The pain I was feeling seemed to be getting worse and I joked with Colleen that she'd have to drive me to the Urgent Care. We actually looked up their hours and when we saw they closed at 11 p.m., I decided I would wait it out until they re-opened at 8 a.m. and just go home and try to sleep.</div>
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When I got home, I put a heating pad on my chest and tried to get comfortable (and obviously never finished the post I started). Around 2 a.m. I woke up and was in so much pain I didn't want to move. Around 3:15, I knew I at least needed to get up and take ibuprofen if I had any chance of lasting until 8 a.m. When I tried to climb out of bed, my pain shot through the roof. It started underneath my clavicle on the left side and traveled down through my ribs and wrapped around my back, spasming. I slowly made my way to my kitchen, stopping every couple steps to catch my breath. I knew this wasn't normal and I was freaked out. </div>
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As I made my way back to my bedroom, my only thought was to get back to my cell phone so I could call for help. I called my mom and told her what was going on and she urged me to go to the ER. I called my brother and my sister for a ride, but both calls went unanswered. I was trying to talk myself out of the pain, telling myself that I could wait until morning. Right then <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2012/01/best-big-brother.html" target="_blank">my brother</a> called back and offered to take me to the hospital. </div>
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By the time we got to the ER, the spasming had stopping and it was just a dull ache that would get worse when I took a deep breath, pretty much the same pain I'd been experiencing all week. The ER was crowded and I checked in, then waited for 45 minutes for my vitals to be taken, then another 45 for a blood draw. I was exhausted and feeling stupid that I was even sitting there, certain that it would be nothing again. Finally, after two hours, I was brought to a room to see a doctor. When she came in, we went over my symptoms and I told her my history of having pleurisy. I also told her I recently went to India. She immediately added a screening on to my blood panel to check for blood clots. And so I waited for those results to come back. </div>
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The test came back showing that my levels were elevated, <em>but that doesn't necessarily mean you have a clot,</em> they said. They wanted to do a CT scan to be sure. I was hooked up to an IV for the dye they inject in your body (SUCH a weird feeling!) and had a CT scan.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChjLdtbvuGzVrTd81y3_pgFiWbtjzoGbyu96up5Fg7ZC-GzK0yoCF7aFiGCUchaFpf8mty5jYaBO-EtHtUdb8MhLT_RSDtblKS7l3CMqKpSh60U2ao3LNeH2775GLYJRdo52Xemso1BvK/s1600/20120309_071057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgChjLdtbvuGzVrTd81y3_pgFiWbtjzoGbyu96up5Fg7ZC-GzK0yoCF7aFiGCUchaFpf8mty5jYaBO-EtHtUdb8MhLT_RSDtblKS7l3CMqKpSh60U2ao3LNeH2775GLYJRdo52Xemso1BvK/s400/20120309_071057.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I sent this picture to Colleen pre- CT scan with the caption<br />
"Shit's getting real." (sorry for the cursing)</td></tr>
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Thankfully my step-mom Jackie came right before they were wheeling me off for the CT. When I got back into the room, she and I chatted for a bit before she stepped out of my room to take a phone call. While she was out, two nurses came in with two bags for my IV. I knew what that meant before they even said it: <strong>I had a clot.</strong> </div>
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As they began to hook me up, the nurse asked if my doctor had been in to talk to me yet. I said she hadn't. She then told me that the CT scan showed that I had clots so I would be admitted and they were going to start a heparin drip immediately. <em>Clots?</em> I asked. <em>Clots, like</em> <em>plural?</em> <em>Yes,</em> she said. Y<em>our doctor will tell you more.</em> </div>
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My doctor came in and told me that I had several clots in my left lung and a few in my right, also known as a <strong>pulmonary embolism</strong> or PE. The CT scan also showed that because these clots caused a lack of blood flow to my lung tissue, part of my lower left lung was damaged. She assured me that now that I was hooked up to heparin, I was going to be fine but told me more than once <em>It's a very, very good thing that you came in when you did. </em>I would find out later that day that <strong>one in five people with PE die</strong>. I honestly don't know what would've happened had my brother not called me back. He likes to say that he saved my life. Either way, I'm really glad to be here.</div>
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The rest of my day was filled with more IVs and needle pricks (one that even blew up the vein in my hand) and finaled with me giving myself a shot in the stomach, a task I now have to continue at home for the next seven days. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get in my belly! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8y-Ie2CIXC588FV9OU1neeHMMn5j4UhE92rl9OP-mf-F64sdRm3Zi4hNYjAlg8jMd37sXqCe3ObUy9kOSSBv0DaiARz10ZmLSchFbgJ_yFD0DZZ_IMXnbt52HdAqKaMkbu8lncrC4xHa/s1600/20120309_175917.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8y-Ie2CIXC588FV9OU1neeHMMn5j4UhE92rl9OP-mf-F64sdRm3Zi4hNYjAlg8jMd37sXqCe3ObUy9kOSSBv0DaiARz10ZmLSchFbgJ_yFD0DZZ_IMXnbt52HdAqKaMkbu8lncrC4xHa/s400/20120309_175917.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The aftermath of two IV attempts and a blood draw. <br />
You should see my other arm and both hands!</td></tr>
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In short, this is a pretty big deal. I'll be on blood thinners for the next 6-12 months, which affect everything from my diet (no foods that are high in vitamin k) to running (no running until it's approved by my MD, who I don't see for 1.5 weeks). The pain I was feeling is likely due to the clots pushing on nerves, something that should dissipate as they go away. For now, though, there's vicodin (which has it's own unpleasant side effects). </div>
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They are also trying to figure out why this happened, including the possibility that this may be a hereditary condition. I have many, many questions, most of which will be answered in due time. So for now I get to be patient. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5115532694528230732.post-73917797010012722432011-11-12T22:23:00.000-06:002011-11-12T22:23:29.846-06:00Richmond Marathon- DNSThe Richmond Marathon was run today and I <strong>Did Not Start</strong>. Because I had been posting about my training for <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/search/label/Richmond">twelve or so weeks</a>, it only seems appropriate that I'd have some sort of post to conclude what turned out to be one of the more disappointing points in my running life. <br />
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I had <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/01/timing-is-everything.html">high hopes</a> in January of this being a good running year for me, setting challenging goals and <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/07/richmond-training-week-1-review.html">developing a training plan</a> that I thought would get me there. <em>The road to hell...</em> <br />
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Things were going really well for a while but after several weeks of subpar training, getting sick, then getting <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/10/down-for-count.htmlhttp://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/10/down-for-count.html">tackled by a 15 year-old</a> and <a href="http://feetmoveforward.blogspot.com/2011/10/if-it-aint-broke.html">sustaining an injury</a> that made it difficult to even breathe, my fall marathon dreams disappeared. And while I was disappointed, I was also relieved. <br />
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Today was my first run in 23 days. One single lap around Lake of the Isles without my Garmin, not worrying about pace, just enjoying a 63 degree day in Minnesota on November 12th. <br />
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It was a good run.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1