Two years ago this November I tried something new at the time, a "virtual" run. I paid my money and got my bib and shirt in the mail like any other race, and then submitted my time afterwards. There were no medals for that first one, but I still thought it was pretty cool thing to do.
Now these runs are all over the place. There is a popular group on Facebook devoted just to listing the events, and people posting pictures of their finishes. But like anything, there are plus and minuses.
The biggest plus of virtual races for me is that travel expenses can be absolutely zero if you wish (of course, you can race them anywhere you'd like.) I have an elderly car that needs to be babied a bit. So it's great just to run right out the back door and get down to business. When you're in your home area, you know right where the bubblers are (drinking fountains, for those not from Wisconsin) and where potential rest/food stops are located. Also, I know I'll always come in first in my location, and that I don't have to worry about being last and having volunteers wait for me in a half-marathon.
I also like that I can do races for different causes and events that may not be available locally. Many of them are for the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society, and I just did one in honor of my mother who is a two-year lymphoma survivor. I did one for an animal sanctuary in Illinois, and another to send disadvantaged youth to an aquarium, causes that I believe in. I am renowned for my love of Canada, and doing one race in Canada is at the top of my bucket list, but there are not too many Canada Day races in Wisconsin, lol. But I was able to do a virtual 10K for the maple leaf, and it's one of my favorite medals.
Speaking of medals, last but not least of the advantages of virtual racing is the bling. Some are extremely creative, like the Virtual Bacon Challenge medal, where you have to eat 3 pieces of bacon during the run. It features two pigs framed by bacon, with green stained-glass in the middle, adorable!
Another exceptional one was for that lymphoma run, called Christmas in July. It has a patriotic Christmas tree with an eagle instead of a star on top, and instead of visions of sugar plums, the children have visions of a cure dancing through their heads. I prefer these creative ones, as opposed to many that are related to Disney, Harry Potter, etc. I am currently working on earning my medals for the World of Hope series (which I didn't realize had Disney ties.) All the medals feature kids from all over the world, just my kind of thing.
To me, the biggest negative of virtual races is that it feels a little like cheating. Medals are something special, and having so many available for a price and the asking de-values them in my mind a little. I know someone that waited 11 years to get one (I lucked out and got one at my third race!) Many races let you split up mileage. I personally don't believe in that: the half-marathon is 13.1 miles done all at once. Lots of people can do it a mile or two at a time, not everyone can do it in one shot: that's why it's a challenge. However, I understand some people have health issues, and that for them, that is a big accomplishment. So I can't judge. But I prefer the races that hold you accountable, and at least make you submit a time, so it's not just a medal factory. I don't even look at the medal until I've earned it. Then of course, there's the competition and excitement of an actual starting line, but virtual runs can be relaxing.
Another con is that many don't offer shirts, though my favorite virtual series www.fortheloveofthekids.com does. After awhile though you just get too dang many shirts in the closet. In my climate, it's the long-sleeve Dri-Fit shirts you tend to hoard, as you can layer several of those for winter runs. But I'm pretty well stocked up now on those also. With the plain cotton shirts you get at most races, I tend to just wear a few select favorites, either because I had fond memories of the race, it fits just right, or it's a different color than most. So I can deal with the lack of shirts.
I think these races are a great idea for people that might be a little fearful to go to an actual race, or that would like to get their kids involved. I would highly recommend trying at least one for a cause you believe in to all my runner friends.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Loss
I've still been walking/running, doing my thing just like I have the last 4 years of my life. Although my times have been stagnant, I'm hanging in there, even placing in two small races this year. But let's face it, something is missing. In a previous blog I touched on how a friendship I valued very much was taken from me in a way I believe was unfair. Although I'm gradually getting better and moving on with my life, I still can use a little help in that department.
But yesterday, I received news of a loss that never has hope of renewal. He was not a runner (he would have rather been hunting, though he enjoyed hiking in the mountains), but was one of my friends through my love of music. We had met 12 years ago through the craziest of circumstances (my favorite singer did a concert in his backyard!) The story is still one almost too crazy to be true, and I will never forget that day. And I will never forget Jim.
Although we never lived in the same state, we did manage to get together several times in the years he lived in northwest Indiana, and took one very memorable road trip back to his hometown in western Maryland. When we were together (or communicating via phone or IM) you couldn't wipe that smile off my face. Most of the time. But he had this funny habit with all his friends apparently. He'd be your best friend for days at a time, call you, e-mail you every day for weeks then suddenly disappear off the planet. I always suspected he was fighting the demon of alcoholism and most likely was bipolar, and tragically he was found in his apartment after 6 weeks of hardly anyone hearing from him. He lingered in an Atlanta hospital for a few days before succumbing to alcoholism.
When we went to Maryland in 2003, I could still tip them back with the best of them, and one night I even outdrank him (I thought I was Earl Weaver, the former manager of the Baltimore Orioles.) Yet he held down good jobs, and seemed like he didn't have to drink every night, but when he went on one of these binges, look out. When I hugged him and left him in the driveway of his parent's house after that trip, I said "that's the last time I'll ever see Jim."
He moved to Atlanta 5 years ago and he invited me down, but I basically stood him up (I was very broke at the time.) I was still harboring a bit of grudge over $50 for cheese curds that went bad because he didn't tell me he was leaving for two weeks. My family thinks he asked for the curds to be mean and that he was using me, but I honestly think he didn't remember asking for them, as I think the disease was taking its toll even then. After we both got on Facebook, he asked me at least a dozen times to send more, and I blew him off every time. Now I wish I hadn't been so petty.
But aside from that, he was mostly very kind, supportive and generous. When I took up racing he said "I'm so proud of you" and when I got upset on Facebook one day he said "knowing you has always been a pleasure." I think he was very happy that I was (trying) to live a healthier lifestyle. I just wish he had made the same call in his life.
In 2002, we met for a concert in Marinette, Wisconsin, and he pulls this wooden shelf with tin-punch pineapples and wooden hanging pegs out of the bed of his Silverado and says "this is for you." Apparently it was gift he gave an ex that gave it back to him. While it seemed like a random gift at the time, it was very nice and I used it for many years for different things. When I started my medal collection in 2009, those pegs made perfect hangers. Eventually I put all my most treasured half-marathon medals on it. So I have decided that my next half-marathon (perhaps this weekend) will be dedicated to his memory (note: I did the Bear Cupboard Half Marathon in Minocqua one week after his death.) As I can't go to his memorial service (barring a miracle) it will be my own tribute to a dear friend.
I do get discouraged sometimes, when I can't lose weight, or my diabetes acts up. But I know I have to keep up the fight, for Jim, for others that died way too young from any number of demons. And for myself.
But yesterday, I received news of a loss that never has hope of renewal. He was not a runner (he would have rather been hunting, though he enjoyed hiking in the mountains), but was one of my friends through my love of music. We had met 12 years ago through the craziest of circumstances (my favorite singer did a concert in his backyard!) The story is still one almost too crazy to be true, and I will never forget that day. And I will never forget Jim.
Although we never lived in the same state, we did manage to get together several times in the years he lived in northwest Indiana, and took one very memorable road trip back to his hometown in western Maryland. When we were together (or communicating via phone or IM) you couldn't wipe that smile off my face. Most of the time. But he had this funny habit with all his friends apparently. He'd be your best friend for days at a time, call you, e-mail you every day for weeks then suddenly disappear off the planet. I always suspected he was fighting the demon of alcoholism and most likely was bipolar, and tragically he was found in his apartment after 6 weeks of hardly anyone hearing from him. He lingered in an Atlanta hospital for a few days before succumbing to alcoholism.
When we went to Maryland in 2003, I could still tip them back with the best of them, and one night I even outdrank him (I thought I was Earl Weaver, the former manager of the Baltimore Orioles.) Yet he held down good jobs, and seemed like he didn't have to drink every night, but when he went on one of these binges, look out. When I hugged him and left him in the driveway of his parent's house after that trip, I said "that's the last time I'll ever see Jim."
He moved to Atlanta 5 years ago and he invited me down, but I basically stood him up (I was very broke at the time.) I was still harboring a bit of grudge over $50 for cheese curds that went bad because he didn't tell me he was leaving for two weeks. My family thinks he asked for the curds to be mean and that he was using me, but I honestly think he didn't remember asking for them, as I think the disease was taking its toll even then. After we both got on Facebook, he asked me at least a dozen times to send more, and I blew him off every time. Now I wish I hadn't been so petty.
But aside from that, he was mostly very kind, supportive and generous. When I took up racing he said "I'm so proud of you" and when I got upset on Facebook one day he said "knowing you has always been a pleasure." I think he was very happy that I was (trying) to live a healthier lifestyle. I just wish he had made the same call in his life.
In 2002, we met for a concert in Marinette, Wisconsin, and he pulls this wooden shelf with tin-punch pineapples and wooden hanging pegs out of the bed of his Silverado and says "this is for you." Apparently it was gift he gave an ex that gave it back to him. While it seemed like a random gift at the time, it was very nice and I used it for many years for different things. When I started my medal collection in 2009, those pegs made perfect hangers. Eventually I put all my most treasured half-marathon medals on it. So I have decided that my next half-marathon (perhaps this weekend) will be dedicated to his memory (note: I did the Bear Cupboard Half Marathon in Minocqua one week after his death.) As I can't go to his memorial service (barring a miracle) it will be my own tribute to a dear friend.
I do get discouraged sometimes, when I can't lose weight, or my diabetes acts up. But I know I have to keep up the fight, for Jim, for others that died way too young from any number of demons. And for myself.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Madison
Last time I told you how I got my groove back, but not how I got my love back. At the last minute, some dear friends talked me into coming to Madison with them Memorial Day weekend. So I signed up for the Twilight 10K since everything I read kept saying the half marathon had a 3:05 time limit. I was just going to be the cheering section the next day. But I was feeling pretty good so at packet pickup I decided to ask about this supposed limit. They assured me that it had been lifted for this spring race, but would be back in the fall race. I had no problems whatsoever switching over to the half, and in the end, it was a great decision.
After a harrowing night in one of Madison's shadiest motels, we got there with plenty of time to spare. My friends told me to take it easy at first, since there was a large hill near the beginning. It was simply lovely though, going past the frat houses, and seeing 32 new dorms under construction. The bike patrol told those of us at the back, anything you need, just let us know. That was very nice. The "hill" was Observatory Hill, sort of like the dreaded hill back at UW-Eau Claire, only twice. It wasn't easy, but as one of my friends said, it was gradual. The views of the lakes were stunning. Then back down to earth and past Camp Randall, and down Monroe Street, a very colorful area of shops. While it wasn't quite like Green Bay with spectators everywhere, plenty of normal (at least for Madison) citizens were cheering me on. Did not care for the short section however where the leaders were coming at us. Soon, we turned left into this little neighborhood, with a boulevard full of people drinking beer and having a good old time. I asked them to have one for me.
We spent about the next 5 miles in the UW-Arborteum, where I thought I'd be arrested for tossing a banana peel. This was actually the least fascinating part of the course for me, though it was beautiful. Passed a lady who had shorter legs than me! Someone on the road had a totem pole in their yard. I wasn't sure just how we were getting back to the Capitol, but figured these boys must know what they're doing! Next was Lake Wingra, and Vilas Zoo, though we didn't go close to the animals. I was running pretty good, until I saw something concerning at mile 10.. Now I am from hill country, I live on one, so they don't bother me. But I saw this steep monster and thought, surely the course doesn't go that way after we get over this stone bridge.
It did. To make matters worse, I was listening to "This Ole House" at the time, a song about death! I quickly changed to "Billie Jean" I think and encouraged the other ladies up it. A gentleman was high-fiving everyone at the top. After than, things got much simpler, back down Monroe Street and then onto the Southwest Commuter Bike Path towards the Capitol. The volunteers were fabulous: they let me use their chair to tie my shoe, and a lady and her daughter acted as greeters and ran with people for a short time. Then some everyday Joes yelled that I looked great from their balcony. After that it was rather uneventful, except for flipping off Noodles and Company. Nothing personal, I yelled (this was where I had my "last meal" in 1999 before nearly kicking the bucket.) Then I ran past the Capitol Brewhaus, where I whet my whistle the night before, and thanked them for the energy. Dave was waiting at the finish line, and Fay kindly brought my jacket. Aside from the beer tent running out of Fat Tire, it was almost a perfect day. It was just the kind of race I love. Green Bay is wonderful with the crowd involvement, and the run through Lambeau, but aside from that, it is mostly running in neighborhoods two blocks from my house. This one had so many different sights and people, and while it seems counterproductive, I actually race better when I'm not bored!
Alas, Madison wouldn't be so kind to me a few weeks later on my vacation, when I attempted to do the Weenie 5K. Drove all the way down there, paid too much for day-of registration, only to have the race delayed. That I could handle, but then it was called off and nobody told me! That day I got a great beer and a t-shirt for my money. Oh well, win some, lose some. I did however, have what I would choose for my "last meal": real barbequed chicken. Yum! I did however get some mileage in when things cleared up a bit. So I still thank you, Mad City!
After a harrowing night in one of Madison's shadiest motels, we got there with plenty of time to spare. My friends told me to take it easy at first, since there was a large hill near the beginning. It was simply lovely though, going past the frat houses, and seeing 32 new dorms under construction. The bike patrol told those of us at the back, anything you need, just let us know. That was very nice. The "hill" was Observatory Hill, sort of like the dreaded hill back at UW-Eau Claire, only twice. It wasn't easy, but as one of my friends said, it was gradual. The views of the lakes were stunning. Then back down to earth and past Camp Randall, and down Monroe Street, a very colorful area of shops. While it wasn't quite like Green Bay with spectators everywhere, plenty of normal (at least for Madison) citizens were cheering me on. Did not care for the short section however where the leaders were coming at us. Soon, we turned left into this little neighborhood, with a boulevard full of people drinking beer and having a good old time. I asked them to have one for me.
We spent about the next 5 miles in the UW-Arborteum, where I thought I'd be arrested for tossing a banana peel. This was actually the least fascinating part of the course for me, though it was beautiful. Passed a lady who had shorter legs than me! Someone on the road had a totem pole in their yard. I wasn't sure just how we were getting back to the Capitol, but figured these boys must know what they're doing! Next was Lake Wingra, and Vilas Zoo, though we didn't go close to the animals. I was running pretty good, until I saw something concerning at mile 10.. Now I am from hill country, I live on one, so they don't bother me. But I saw this steep monster and thought, surely the course doesn't go that way after we get over this stone bridge.
It did. To make matters worse, I was listening to "This Ole House" at the time, a song about death! I quickly changed to "Billie Jean" I think and encouraged the other ladies up it. A gentleman was high-fiving everyone at the top. After than, things got much simpler, back down Monroe Street and then onto the Southwest Commuter Bike Path towards the Capitol. The volunteers were fabulous: they let me use their chair to tie my shoe, and a lady and her daughter acted as greeters and ran with people for a short time. Then some everyday Joes yelled that I looked great from their balcony. After that it was rather uneventful, except for flipping off Noodles and Company. Nothing personal, I yelled (this was where I had my "last meal" in 1999 before nearly kicking the bucket.) Then I ran past the Capitol Brewhaus, where I whet my whistle the night before, and thanked them for the energy. Dave was waiting at the finish line, and Fay kindly brought my jacket. Aside from the beer tent running out of Fat Tire, it was almost a perfect day. It was just the kind of race I love. Green Bay is wonderful with the crowd involvement, and the run through Lambeau, but aside from that, it is mostly running in neighborhoods two blocks from my house. This one had so many different sights and people, and while it seems counterproductive, I actually race better when I'm not bored!
Alas, Madison wouldn't be so kind to me a few weeks later on my vacation, when I attempted to do the Weenie 5K. Drove all the way down there, paid too much for day-of registration, only to have the race delayed. That I could handle, but then it was called off and nobody told me! That day I got a great beer and a t-shirt for my money. Oh well, win some, lose some. I did however, have what I would choose for my "last meal": real barbequed chicken. Yum! I did however get some mileage in when things cleared up a bit. So I still thank you, Mad City!
Sunday, May 19, 2013
How Patty Got Her Groove Back
After two years of lousy/horrible weather, we finally got a good half marathon in Green Bay today. Wind was the word of the day in 2011, and last year of course was the black flag heat disaster. Today it was exactly as it should be. What makes it such a great race are the ordinary people that sit in their driveways, on street corners, with their boomboxes and even gas grills. And we were back inside Lambeau Field for the last lap, which was not available last year due to construction. I only saw two injuries, and no Penske trucks carting people off the course like last year. Many happy faces, and the grumpy ones were just from normal fatigue. My time was 3:11:36, much better than the 3:28 I did in 2011.
Nice copy, as us writers would say, but it is far from the whole story. Three weeks ago, I did a 3:25 half marathon in Wautoma, Wisconsin, my worst half since Tomahawk in 2011. True, "spring" didn't begin until two days before that race, royally screwing up half the training schedules in the state, going from like 35 to 70 degrees just like that. I had only done a 9.5 mile indoor/outdoor combination just the Monday before. But I had stayed in fairly decent shape over the winter with snowshoeing and Zumba, so it was more getting used to be back on nice ice-free pavement. Also work was extremely hectic that week. But it wasn't my physical condition that was the problem.
Just as the weather was making a turn for the better earlier that week, a personal situation took a turn for the worst. The details are still very painful, and frankly are not important (watching reruns of Jersey Shore might give you some insight!) But I had spent the last two days in tears, and I'm no crybaby. I just couldn't get myself motivated to make the 75 minute drive, but I did it. I slogged up to the packet pickup, and I got all teary again when I saw two very good running buddies familiar with the situation. They knew immediately something was wrong before I told them, and they could've have been more supportive, even after I told them not to wait for me. Still, I wasn't right. It doesn't help that this particular race is in the country, very nice and quiet. A little too quiet. Sure I had Mr. Sinatra, but some songs weren't going down too smooth. There were two ladies 40 minutes in back of me, and a couple just out of sight (normally I would've beaten them) so I had no one to push me. So I was basically alone with my thoughts, a bad idea at that moment in time. Mostly I walked it, with little intervals of running. Still my emotional state must've made me look terrible. Usually people tell me I've got it, but that day they were telling me to hang in there, and trying to hand me Gu. A very nice marathoner came up and started talking, and told me my lesser mileage wasn't a problem. He asked if it was my first half, I said no, it's my 20th, I was just having a bad day (I spared him the drama.) I assured him I'd make it. I slogged on, and finally I made it to the corner of the fairgrounds, where my friends stood waiting anyway. And there was the marathoner telling me to finish strong like I said I would, and I did. I apologized to my friends for making them wait an hour, and one said, do you know what Ohana means, and I said, it means family in Hawaiian. He said we're family and no one is left behind (I almost cried again.) They even waited to eat. That meant an awful lot.
Still, the terrible time left me shaken, and wondering if I should just give it running permanently (I had toyed with it twice before, but I was serious this time.) The thrill was gone, there was no joy left. Then I started thinking I was doing certain things for the wrong reasons, trying to impress certain people, and prove things I shouldn't have to prove. I started thinking of what made ME happy. I went back to my roots, and just picked a random race that a lady in Zumba class recommended. I won a camping set, and had a nice time there. Then I chose to drop from a half marathon in Eagle River that I was doing with a friend, and just do the 5K. Due to weather and logistics, it turned out to be a good decision (even one of the best runners in the area that usually does the marathon only did the shorty!) Again, I had nothing to prove, so I did what felt right for me. My 5K times at least went back to almost normal. I was afraid the "situation" would flare up again last night, and my dad said, forget it and do what you have to do. It turned out to be great advice. My family is just proud of anything I do, but are afraid I overdo it. So again, my running is generally up to me. I kept that in mind this morning, and put some different music on the iPod. Nothing traumatic happened, and I was doing pretty well. Sure I had a few slower miles, but that was more due to my Grave's disease causing heat issues. My friends showed up again on the course, which made me feel good. Today my thoughts were, don't try to keep up with the Joneses, just do what's right for you, and consider that you are 43 and have some health issues. You're not Superwoman, I told myself as a man in a Superman costume passed me.
As I passed through the stadium I felt the joy that had been missing, and crossed the finish line strongly, even though I missed a PR. But the biggest victory of the day was deciding to do things on my own terms, and finally getting my groove back.
Nice copy, as us writers would say, but it is far from the whole story. Three weeks ago, I did a 3:25 half marathon in Wautoma, Wisconsin, my worst half since Tomahawk in 2011. True, "spring" didn't begin until two days before that race, royally screwing up half the training schedules in the state, going from like 35 to 70 degrees just like that. I had only done a 9.5 mile indoor/outdoor combination just the Monday before. But I had stayed in fairly decent shape over the winter with snowshoeing and Zumba, so it was more getting used to be back on nice ice-free pavement. Also work was extremely hectic that week. But it wasn't my physical condition that was the problem.
Just as the weather was making a turn for the better earlier that week, a personal situation took a turn for the worst. The details are still very painful, and frankly are not important (watching reruns of Jersey Shore might give you some insight!) But I had spent the last two days in tears, and I'm no crybaby. I just couldn't get myself motivated to make the 75 minute drive, but I did it. I slogged up to the packet pickup, and I got all teary again when I saw two very good running buddies familiar with the situation. They knew immediately something was wrong before I told them, and they could've have been more supportive, even after I told them not to wait for me. Still, I wasn't right. It doesn't help that this particular race is in the country, very nice and quiet. A little too quiet. Sure I had Mr. Sinatra, but some songs weren't going down too smooth. There were two ladies 40 minutes in back of me, and a couple just out of sight (normally I would've beaten them) so I had no one to push me. So I was basically alone with my thoughts, a bad idea at that moment in time. Mostly I walked it, with little intervals of running. Still my emotional state must've made me look terrible. Usually people tell me I've got it, but that day they were telling me to hang in there, and trying to hand me Gu. A very nice marathoner came up and started talking, and told me my lesser mileage wasn't a problem. He asked if it was my first half, I said no, it's my 20th, I was just having a bad day (I spared him the drama.) I assured him I'd make it. I slogged on, and finally I made it to the corner of the fairgrounds, where my friends stood waiting anyway. And there was the marathoner telling me to finish strong like I said I would, and I did. I apologized to my friends for making them wait an hour, and one said, do you know what Ohana means, and I said, it means family in Hawaiian. He said we're family and no one is left behind (I almost cried again.) They even waited to eat. That meant an awful lot.
Still, the terrible time left me shaken, and wondering if I should just give it running permanently (I had toyed with it twice before, but I was serious this time.) The thrill was gone, there was no joy left. Then I started thinking I was doing certain things for the wrong reasons, trying to impress certain people, and prove things I shouldn't have to prove. I started thinking of what made ME happy. I went back to my roots, and just picked a random race that a lady in Zumba class recommended. I won a camping set, and had a nice time there. Then I chose to drop from a half marathon in Eagle River that I was doing with a friend, and just do the 5K. Due to weather and logistics, it turned out to be a good decision (even one of the best runners in the area that usually does the marathon only did the shorty!) Again, I had nothing to prove, so I did what felt right for me. My 5K times at least went back to almost normal. I was afraid the "situation" would flare up again last night, and my dad said, forget it and do what you have to do. It turned out to be great advice. My family is just proud of anything I do, but are afraid I overdo it. So again, my running is generally up to me. I kept that in mind this morning, and put some different music on the iPod. Nothing traumatic happened, and I was doing pretty well. Sure I had a few slower miles, but that was more due to my Grave's disease causing heat issues. My friends showed up again on the course, which made me feel good. Today my thoughts were, don't try to keep up with the Joneses, just do what's right for you, and consider that you are 43 and have some health issues. You're not Superwoman, I told myself as a man in a Superman costume passed me.
As I passed through the stadium I felt the joy that had been missing, and crossed the finish line strongly, even though I missed a PR. But the biggest victory of the day was deciding to do things on my own terms, and finally getting my groove back.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Uh trail run, er, waddle, maybe snowshoe, or hell, skijor!
There was no way, no way yesterday that I was putting on my longjohns on April 14th. Turns out they were not needed: snowblowers and a wetsuit were, however.
I didn't do the Iola Trail Run last year because, frankly, I don't care for trail runs. But several of my friends were doing it, and since I'm considering going to the National Snowshoe Championships in Vermont next year I figure that I should try to get more comfortable in the woods. Thanks to the weather, it was no Thoreau moment.
In February, I rode along with my friends to Iola for a snowshoe race. The GPS told us to take a series of backroads to the back of the park. The roads were much better then than yesterday! The forecast for Sunday was for rain mixed with a little sleet, starting at 9:30 am. At 9:40 we were sitting in the car and I said don't look now, but it's starting. Only the weather didn't listen to its own forecast: it was pure snow, the whole time we were out there. This course starts with a very large hill, and I'm not sure if it was our hike up Rib Mountain on Saturday or this particular beast, but my calves seized up on me to a point of pain I've never felt in a race. I was starting to wonder if this would be my first ever DNF. After about a mile, through a few easy rolling hills things started to ease up, but I think I was already thrown off. However, there was a St. Bernard at the water station, so at least there was brandy available if I needed it.
To me, trail running is one tree after another, with no real scenery to look at. One of my favorite things about racing is seeing the sights, even if it is just a sewage treatment plant. But this watching flags to make sure you're on the right course is nerve-wracking to me. Still, there was something serene about it, until about the second mile when the snow became an issue. At that point my Garmin said 2.25 miles, and it kept getting more off course, which made me think I took an extra loop onto the 15K course. I started to get weepy, wondering if I'd ever see the car again when I finally saw the photographers in the pines at the sign that said 3 miles (my watch said 3.7.) It was getting awfully hard to see the finish, but I finally got there.
So what happened? I don't know. The gentleman at the finish said it was probably around 3.8, my friend Jody heard the same thing. Someone else said trees can affect a Garmin, personally I thought someone forgot to scoop out the satellite dish upstairs. Regardless, my time stunk. Normally we try to have one person at least to greet our gang at the finish, but no way. Any thoughts of pictures was kaput. I slinked back into the chalet where Brad greeted me with a tounge-in-cheek "you look like you had a good time out there!" I must've looked like hell. And we only did the short race. Our other three pals did the 15k while the snow just got heavier. One came in looking like the mascot from Red Lobster. Meanwhile his wife had so much snow on her head she looked like she was wearing a hat. Michelle had to keep taking her glasses off, as they had no windshield wipers on them. I was so wet that I spilled bean soup on me and didn't even feel it.
After changing clothes, no one hung around terribly long (well five of us anyway) as we all had about an hour drive home. While everyone finished safe and sound, I could tell it took a mental toll. We all handled it in ways that fit our personalities. Several stopped for goodies or groceries on the wicked drive home. I ate the bacon egg and cheese Subway half that wasn't in the fridge when I left (thanks, mom!) and proceeded to fall asleep to tales from the scanner telling who was in the ditch where. Then there was our national champ Michelle, who walked back to her truck, got out her snowshoes, and went right back on the trail we just ran on! Talk about turning lemons into lemonade...
Lemonade, summer, ummmm, will it ever get here???
I didn't do the Iola Trail Run last year because, frankly, I don't care for trail runs. But several of my friends were doing it, and since I'm considering going to the National Snowshoe Championships in Vermont next year I figure that I should try to get more comfortable in the woods. Thanks to the weather, it was no Thoreau moment.
In February, I rode along with my friends to Iola for a snowshoe race. The GPS told us to take a series of backroads to the back of the park. The roads were much better then than yesterday! The forecast for Sunday was for rain mixed with a little sleet, starting at 9:30 am. At 9:40 we were sitting in the car and I said don't look now, but it's starting. Only the weather didn't listen to its own forecast: it was pure snow, the whole time we were out there. This course starts with a very large hill, and I'm not sure if it was our hike up Rib Mountain on Saturday or this particular beast, but my calves seized up on me to a point of pain I've never felt in a race. I was starting to wonder if this would be my first ever DNF. After about a mile, through a few easy rolling hills things started to ease up, but I think I was already thrown off. However, there was a St. Bernard at the water station, so at least there was brandy available if I needed it.
To me, trail running is one tree after another, with no real scenery to look at. One of my favorite things about racing is seeing the sights, even if it is just a sewage treatment plant. But this watching flags to make sure you're on the right course is nerve-wracking to me. Still, there was something serene about it, until about the second mile when the snow became an issue. At that point my Garmin said 2.25 miles, and it kept getting more off course, which made me think I took an extra loop onto the 15K course. I started to get weepy, wondering if I'd ever see the car again when I finally saw the photographers in the pines at the sign that said 3 miles (my watch said 3.7.) It was getting awfully hard to see the finish, but I finally got there.
So what happened? I don't know. The gentleman at the finish said it was probably around 3.8, my friend Jody heard the same thing. Someone else said trees can affect a Garmin, personally I thought someone forgot to scoop out the satellite dish upstairs. Regardless, my time stunk. Normally we try to have one person at least to greet our gang at the finish, but no way. Any thoughts of pictures was kaput. I slinked back into the chalet where Brad greeted me with a tounge-in-cheek "you look like you had a good time out there!" I must've looked like hell. And we only did the short race. Our other three pals did the 15k while the snow just got heavier. One came in looking like the mascot from Red Lobster. Meanwhile his wife had so much snow on her head she looked like she was wearing a hat. Michelle had to keep taking her glasses off, as they had no windshield wipers on them. I was so wet that I spilled bean soup on me and didn't even feel it.
After changing clothes, no one hung around terribly long (well five of us anyway) as we all had about an hour drive home. While everyone finished safe and sound, I could tell it took a mental toll. We all handled it in ways that fit our personalities. Several stopped for goodies or groceries on the wicked drive home. I ate the bacon egg and cheese Subway half that wasn't in the fridge when I left (thanks, mom!) and proceeded to fall asleep to tales from the scanner telling who was in the ditch where. Then there was our national champ Michelle, who walked back to her truck, got out her snowshoes, and went right back on the trail we just ran on! Talk about turning lemons into lemonade...
Lemonade, summer, ummmm, will it ever get here???
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Six week update.
My last blog ended on rather a sour note in February, so thought it was time to show the positives since. I am up to 14 races/events for the year: 4 snowshoe races, 1 snowshoe fundraiser, and the rest in the new running shoes. I did go to the snowshoe race in Edgar, and while I came in last, I was still almost 25 minutes ahead of my time at that terrible Treehaven. I even planned on racing at our own 9 Mile, a place with nothing but bad luck for me during trail runs. Then I got a short but intense case of the flu: there was no way. I must be a fast recoverer though, since I did the 5 mile Point Bock Run the next weekend with a time only 53 seconds slower than last year. The next day I had to decide if I wanted to hit the snowshoes again. By that time I was too far behind on races to win the coveted Braveheart trophy, so I was ready to hang the new 'shoes up. But then I read about a fundraiser for a cross-country ski team out at 9 Mile, which used the same snowshoe loop as the race missed. I actually enjoyed it!
On the other end of the scale, Zumba class has been going pretty well. It did get a little rough at the start of the 2nd session, when we switched instructors from a gym teacher to a Zumba militant, lol. She's a bit younger, so naturally the classes have a bit more of a hip-hop feel, but there's less turning and more strength and toning moves. I did have to skip one week when I had the flu, but otherwise I've been there faithfully. While it may seem sissy, it is a great workout, especially in combination with snowshoeing, oddly enough.
But I was very happy to get back on the road somewhat, with a few fun events. I did a Virtual Bacon 5K run (actually did 5.25 miles) where you had to eat three pieces of bacon (will get my medal in the mail in about 6 weeks.) Didn't do the greatest at Bull Falls Brewery, but one goes to that one mostly for the extracurriculars, and to send out local veterans to Washington D.C. The next (very cold) morning in Kimberly I was only a minute slower while wearing a tight dress, wig, and cape! Sadly, Little Green Running Hood did not win the costume contest, but she was brave in the attempt. Meanwhile in Oregon, two of my friends were off winning medals at the National Snowshoe Championships. I determined next year I'll qualify myself and join...Nah...But I would like to get the series trophy for doing 9 snowshoe races.
Yesterday was certainly no big-time race, but it represents the reasons I run. I have been wondering lately, should I just give it up since I may not get a lot faster, or I'll never be able to afford "destination" races like Disney World. A personal trainer set up this race in honor of her mom, with all proceeds going to the Highground, a wonderful park in Neillsville, Wisconsin, full of memorials for veterans. It was very no-frills, no shirt, but that was fine with me. While the course crossed a U.S. highway (there was nowhere else for it to go) and had some dandy hills, they really appreciated us being there. One gentleman came and paced me in the last 10th of a mile, and whenever a runner crossed the finish line they rang the bell that use for observances at the park. A man from the Highground shook my hand and thanked me for coming. And surprise, we all got a small medal. Very classy, and confirmation that I'm doing the right thing.
On the other end of the scale, Zumba class has been going pretty well. It did get a little rough at the start of the 2nd session, when we switched instructors from a gym teacher to a Zumba militant, lol. She's a bit younger, so naturally the classes have a bit more of a hip-hop feel, but there's less turning and more strength and toning moves. I did have to skip one week when I had the flu, but otherwise I've been there faithfully. While it may seem sissy, it is a great workout, especially in combination with snowshoeing, oddly enough.
But I was very happy to get back on the road somewhat, with a few fun events. I did a Virtual Bacon 5K run (actually did 5.25 miles) where you had to eat three pieces of bacon (will get my medal in the mail in about 6 weeks.) Didn't do the greatest at Bull Falls Brewery, but one goes to that one mostly for the extracurriculars, and to send out local veterans to Washington D.C. The next (very cold) morning in Kimberly I was only a minute slower while wearing a tight dress, wig, and cape! Sadly, Little Green Running Hood did not win the costume contest, but she was brave in the attempt. Meanwhile in Oregon, two of my friends were off winning medals at the National Snowshoe Championships. I determined next year I'll qualify myself and join...Nah...But I would like to get the series trophy for doing 9 snowshoe races.
Yesterday was certainly no big-time race, but it represents the reasons I run. I have been wondering lately, should I just give it up since I may not get a lot faster, or I'll never be able to afford "destination" races like Disney World. A personal trainer set up this race in honor of her mom, with all proceeds going to the Highground, a wonderful park in Neillsville, Wisconsin, full of memorials for veterans. It was very no-frills, no shirt, but that was fine with me. While the course crossed a U.S. highway (there was nowhere else for it to go) and had some dandy hills, they really appreciated us being there. One gentleman came and paced me in the last 10th of a mile, and whenever a runner crossed the finish line they rang the bell that use for observances at the park. A man from the Highground shook my hand and thanked me for coming. And surprise, we all got a small medal. Very classy, and confirmation that I'm doing the right thing.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Snowshoe, noshoe...An embarrassing outing
On my last blog, I told of the good time I was having. Yesterday, not so much, to say the least. For only the second time in 150+ races and 3 1/2 years, I wanted to hang out the snowshoes AND the running shoes.
I am not huge on goals, but my first and foremost priorities in any race are to get my butt home in one piece, and to represent myself and my home area the best I know how, without embarrassing myself. While I did barely manage the first, I don't believe I accomplished the second. I can't say I wasn't warned. My friend Brad e-mailed me and said hard course, be careful. I knew he was concerned.
My first snowshoe race was on a very hard-packed trail, the second had a little more snow, but this one was quite a bit rougher, with very soft snow (everyone was having issues) and with my least favorite thing, tree roots! During my first race in Rib Lake, I was on 25 inch snowshoes, but felt out of control, like I was stepping on them all the time. So when I bought some of Friday I bought the shorter model, which would have been great for those other races, but really sunk in there in Tomahawk. I was also using poles for the first time, and while they can be in the way when you don't need them, they are a godsend when you do, especially going downhill.
It seemed like nearly every step was a chore. One of the things I don't like about trail runs is that you have to be on your toes all the time, vigilant about obstacles. Sure, accidents can happen on the road, especially in bad weather, but most of the time you don't have to constantly worry about injury. I just kept plugging along, but I never even saw another person until nearly 2 miles in. I did pass them without trouble, but then I hit that single-track again (ie the tricky stuff!) and couldn't make up as much time as I would have liked. I didn't even set my watch, I didn't want to know I guess. But then one of the finished racers came down the trail (I think he was seeing how many people were left) and I asked, how much farther? About one minute, right around the corner. Up ahead I could see Brad, Michelle, and Marcia (a lady I usually pass around halfway) all looking worried wondering where the hell I was. Poor, sick Fay (who I rode with) was sitting in the car waiting so I could get my gear out. I yelled out "I'm coming!" and they seemed relieved.
I didn't even get the guts to see my time until last night, I was like 50 minutes in back of Fay who was third place in my age group. A disgrace. Most of the 10k'ers finished ahead of me. A disgrace. I didn't have any business being out there. I told the race official I had just set the course record, for slowest time ever. Then he reminded me of the two ladies I passed. So while I didn't even come in last, it wasn't good. I felt so bad that everyone had to wait. Eventually I got some chili and beer in me and was welcomed into the group with open arms. I don't think they worried so much about injury (the first responders reported no problems), as much as the possibility I got lost.
I started wondering if my fitness level was going to hell. After all my 5K times have been at least 4 minutes off of summer, when I'm really consistent. Then I started thinking of conditions: running in Lake Michigan, below zero windchills, and up big snow bunkers. I also had to remember I owned these snowshoes for about 18 hours. A classic case of being too hard on myself.
After considering giving up all fitness activities for stamp collecting, knitting, or astronomy, I decided I would miss it all too much, especially the friends I've made. I compared their behavior with some "friends" I've had in the past, who would be all embarrassed by this, and leave me to my own devices. That means an awful lot.
So this morning I signed up for a race in Edgar, where I've done trail runs on a similar course. I'm just taking it one at a time. I can't give up snowshoeing now (especially after dropping a chunk of change!) But I will be giddy to be back on the road again.
I am not huge on goals, but my first and foremost priorities in any race are to get my butt home in one piece, and to represent myself and my home area the best I know how, without embarrassing myself. While I did barely manage the first, I don't believe I accomplished the second. I can't say I wasn't warned. My friend Brad e-mailed me and said hard course, be careful. I knew he was concerned.
My first snowshoe race was on a very hard-packed trail, the second had a little more snow, but this one was quite a bit rougher, with very soft snow (everyone was having issues) and with my least favorite thing, tree roots! During my first race in Rib Lake, I was on 25 inch snowshoes, but felt out of control, like I was stepping on them all the time. So when I bought some of Friday I bought the shorter model, which would have been great for those other races, but really sunk in there in Tomahawk. I was also using poles for the first time, and while they can be in the way when you don't need them, they are a godsend when you do, especially going downhill.
It seemed like nearly every step was a chore. One of the things I don't like about trail runs is that you have to be on your toes all the time, vigilant about obstacles. Sure, accidents can happen on the road, especially in bad weather, but most of the time you don't have to constantly worry about injury. I just kept plugging along, but I never even saw another person until nearly 2 miles in. I did pass them without trouble, but then I hit that single-track again (ie the tricky stuff!) and couldn't make up as much time as I would have liked. I didn't even set my watch, I didn't want to know I guess. But then one of the finished racers came down the trail (I think he was seeing how many people were left) and I asked, how much farther? About one minute, right around the corner. Up ahead I could see Brad, Michelle, and Marcia (a lady I usually pass around halfway) all looking worried wondering where the hell I was. Poor, sick Fay (who I rode with) was sitting in the car waiting so I could get my gear out. I yelled out "I'm coming!" and they seemed relieved.
I didn't even get the guts to see my time until last night, I was like 50 minutes in back of Fay who was third place in my age group. A disgrace. Most of the 10k'ers finished ahead of me. A disgrace. I didn't have any business being out there. I told the race official I had just set the course record, for slowest time ever. Then he reminded me of the two ladies I passed. So while I didn't even come in last, it wasn't good. I felt so bad that everyone had to wait. Eventually I got some chili and beer in me and was welcomed into the group with open arms. I don't think they worried so much about injury (the first responders reported no problems), as much as the possibility I got lost.
I started wondering if my fitness level was going to hell. After all my 5K times have been at least 4 minutes off of summer, when I'm really consistent. Then I started thinking of conditions: running in Lake Michigan, below zero windchills, and up big snow bunkers. I also had to remember I owned these snowshoes for about 18 hours. A classic case of being too hard on myself.
After considering giving up all fitness activities for stamp collecting, knitting, or astronomy, I decided I would miss it all too much, especially the friends I've made. I compared their behavior with some "friends" I've had in the past, who would be all embarrassed by this, and leave me to my own devices. That means an awful lot.
So this morning I signed up for a race in Edgar, where I've done trail runs on a similar course. I'm just taking it one at a time. I can't give up snowshoeing now (especially after dropping a chunk of change!) But I will be giddy to be back on the road again.
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