Rockledge Rumble 30k - 2014

I wish I could tell you what made me want to run the 30k of this race. I think maybe it was actually wanting to run the Big Cedar 50k, but knowing I'm nowhere close to ready for that, but at the same time, realizing I was craving a new challenge.

Northshore is not my favorite trail, but it's fine and it's familiar and pretty consistent and runnable. So it felt pretty natural to attempt my longest race yet on familiar turf.

I calculated that the distance would take me about 5 hours to complete, and the longest I'd ever run/walked was about 3.5 hours stumbling around Isle du Bois. So I had to train. For the most part, my DRC half marathon training was good enough. I tacked on some extra mileage here and there, and did some weekends of back-to-back longer runs on Saturday and Sunday to bump up my mileage and run on tired legs.

Once I felt like I'd done enough of that, I knew I needed to get at least a 4 hour run in, so I set out to loop the lake twice a few weeks prior. I bought Scott Jurek's book Eat and Run from iTunes, and set about my business on a cool October morning with nothing but my hydration pack full of Tailwind and a sense of adventure. Sure, it was just looping the lake, but for me, this was kind of the deal or no deal run.

My hip flexors and pelvis had been getting more and more sore during and after runs, so I knew it was going hurt. But when? And how much? Well, about 3 hours in, they were quite tight and by the time I got back to my car at 4 hours (actually 3:57, so I had to trudge around for 3 more minutes to get my 4 hours), I could barely lift my legs to walk. It was one of those "hurts so bad, you're laughing at how ridiculously immobile you are" things.

I knew then that I needed to get into the PT, pronto. So I set about doing the doctor visits and whatnot to allow that. He showed me a couple of things (rolling hip flexors on a lax ball, and then a good stretch) and I did them religiously until it was time for the Rumble.

Because I'm so slow, even though I had faith in my Tailwind (seriously, if you're running trails and don't use this stuff, you're missing out... I'll have to do a review at some point), I knew I needed to have glycogen stores out the ying yang. So I carbo loaded pretty much all week. It was AWESOME. :)

Then race day came. Rosie drove me to the lake and volunteered at the turnaround aid station while I ran. The 30k route is Rockledge to Murrell and back twice.

Side note: For the life of me, I do not know why they don't just make it a 20 miler and let you run the full length of the Northshore trail once. That would be so much more appealing than being 100 yards from the finish and then having to go back and do it all over again.

The spot I always take a picture when I run Northshore, basically as an excuse to recover from the only rocky climb on the course.

In fact, that midpoint turnaround was totally in my head before the race. I really thought I was going to get there and feel like shit and have to drag myself back out on the course. But it ended up not being an issue. Recognizing it as a potential weak spot prior to the race helped me prepare for it mentally, I think.

I did, however, have to get my drop bag out and put some Aquaphor on the arch of my right foot. I've never had this happen before but a hot spot was rapidly developing there, and it definitely would have gone blister if I hadn't had something to put on it. Yay Aquaphor! Yay throwing Aquaphor in my drop bag on a last minute whim!

Renewed by the discovery that the Aquaphor was indeed going to prevent a pretty gnarly blister, I felt pretty good midway. It wasn't long, though, before I was Over It. I recall at one point, as a gust of wind blew through the forest, that I'd be sorta okay with a tree falling on me because then I could stop moving for a while. I know. Crazy talk, right? Imagine the crazy shit I'd think doing a longer distance! There are several emergency access roads you cross heading out to Murrell, and one is right before the aid station, so every. single. one. I crossed, I was like, "Oh, maybe the aid station is right up he... nope. Ugh. Keep moving."

This was not the best mental state to be in. By the time I got back to Rosie at the Murrell aid station, I was WAY over it and WAY ready to be done. None of the food looked good, though I grabbed an Oreo anyway because I'm an addict. It was too sweet. Bleh. I thankfully had them add water to my hydration pack (but not more Tailwind), because I sucked it dry the minute after I crossed the finish line, so I certainly would have run out without that little top-off.

I asked Rosie if she wanted to run back with me, but she told me to go on and she might catch up with me. So, onward I trudged, grateful to be on the home stretch but also feeling pretty tight and desperate for the signs on the trail that tell me "you're close to home." But of course, it was 4 miles of trail, so those didn't come for a LONG time.

In the meantime, Rosie the Speedster decided to join me. She said she was worried she wasn't going to catch up to me, but she really would have had to loaf it to not catch me. Tina had texted me to "run like a deer!" and I thought, "Yeah, I'm running like a three-legged, blind, and deaf deer, but sure, I'll run like a deer."

I was really happy to see Rosie because I knew it would boost me to have some company and get me out of my negative mindset. And she was SUPER excited for me and proud of me, which was awesome. But in the moment, oh man, I was just not excited about anything and I wasn't having any of it. Pacing a grumpy runner is a thankless task, I tell ya. You're the wind beneath my wings, Rosie!

I thought a lot on that final leg about why I was so grumpy and how worthless it was to spend the whole race wishing I was someplace else. I never understood before why distance runners get into meditation, but now I do. It's hard to be "in the moment" when you're suffering. Here I was, the weather lovely, the trail pleasant and easy, my good running buddy with me, about to accomplish something new and awesome, and all I could think was, "GET ME OFF THIS TRAIL." How silly.

This is why I run though... to learn these life lessons because I never learn anything the easy way. Be in the moment, Heather. I practiced this thought process the whole way back to the finish and I'm looking forward to working on it more. It really is a skill, especially for someone like me who, true to my Taurean roots, craves creature comforts and is stubborn! Sometimes my sense of discomfort just completely overwhelms me and I can't even think straight.

Slightly sunnier view from my picture spot on the second loop.

In the midst of all this, I'm getting texts from Tina asking me if I'm still running ("Well, it's more like walking now") and how close I am to making my 12:30 (5 hour) goal. I get the sneaking suspicion that she is planning a surprise appearance at the finish line, which would be incredibly sweet of her but I don't want to get my hopes up.

Finally, we get back to where we can see the lake, we start hitting my mental "I'm close now" milestones. My energy and positivity come back when we are heading around the cliffs toward the parking lot. I'm still saying, "Fuck it" a lot when my legs just decide they would rather be walking for a spell. We get on the pavement toward the Rockledge aid station, which is just down the hill from the finish, and Rosie says, "There's Tina!"

And I BURST INTO TEARS.

*sobbing* *running* *Rosie wondering what the hell is wrong with me*

I'd been fighting back tears the whole way back. I was just so tired, and so emotionally overwrought, both positive and negative. I'd already told myself that I was just going to let myself cry at the finish line. I never have before, but I am ALWAYS fighting back tears at the finish. This time, I said to myself, just cry. They're all runners. They'll all get it. It will feel good.

Well, all those tears I was saving up came out. Tina was there with the famous jalapeno cheddar biscuits from Whataburger, our post-trail run staple. And she was just so sweet to be there and I was overwhelmed by the support from these great friends who are so proud of me. I gave her a huge sweaty, sobbing hug, got myself together, and then carried on the finish by myself.

On my way to the Pavilion. 

Speaking of the finish, it's cruel to make you trudge up some of the steepest steps ever, but I really didn't care other than a bit of "Are you kidding me with this?" because holy crap it was OVER!

Oh those steps....

Up the stairs and heading for the Pavilion. Thank goodness! Photo credit Shama Sattar 

I stumbled over to an empty table with my new medal and my empty hydration pack. Found some water. Was told there was beer, so Tina helped me figure the keg out. Ate my delicious even though it was a couple of hours old and cold jalapeno cheddar biscuit. The ART guy freed up so I jumped on his table and he worked on my hips, which had no pain beyond what I would expect for a race this distance. I ate some more and soaked it all in for a bit. I even got to see the 50k winners get their plaques. The both beat me by 15-20 minutes, despite doing an additional 20k past what I did. Beasts!

Anyway, it was an amazing experience. I learned a lot and I put my heart into it and I came within 8 minutes of my 5 hour goal, and when I think about the 8 minutes I might have wasted... putting Aquaphor on my foot, spending a moment or two with Tina or with Rosie at the aid station, checking on a hurting runner, etc. I'm okay with that.

Up next?

Plans were to recover from Rockledge, and then use it as a long training run as part of building up to the New Year's Day Marathon in McKinney. I had my training schedule all planned out, I'm doing my PT work like a good girl.

And then... I ran 10 miles with my group yesterday morning and I was dreading it. And it hurt and was hard, and all that not-hurting my hip flexors did last weekend came back with a mighty vengeance. I could barely walk when I got home and for the rest of the day. It still hurts today. I've never had to lag behind my group on a long run but for the final 4 miles, I was having to take walk breaks and drop back. I ended up finishing with them, but while we were out there, I realized... I don't want to spend the rest of the year doing this. I don't want to do 13, 17, and 20 mile training runs. Hell, I don't even want to run this marathon.

So... why do it, then? Well, that was it. I emailed Libby and asked to drop to the half. I don't even care about the medal. I'd mostly just signed up for the cool shirt anyway.

The new goal is a half marathon PR, which, on this flat course, I feel is very doable. And I'm actually excited to aim for that. And that's how races should be. So while I feel like sort of a jerk for being all, "Hey, I'm running a marathon!" and now "Eh, never mind. Too hard" I 100% believe it's the right choice. I'm looking forward to running again.

This weekend, I'll rest my legs and volunteer at Big Cedar 100, which I'm very excited about, and then look forward to some great runs that don't leave me injured and haggard through the end of the year.

Run happy, friends!

Catching up from late Summer...

Between work being busy, a 2.5 month house remodel, and DRC training starting up, I've been busy running but haven't had much time to sit down and write about it. So, I'll do a little chronology since late summer until last weekend's big adventure, which gets its own post.

Half Marathon Training

DRC training has been really fun this season. Debbie had a huge 2:30 pace group all to herself (usually two pace leaders, but this group really could have used 3, as it started out twice the size of a normal group) and since I was a "seasoned vet," I pitched in by being the caboose of our group, checking on stragglers, keeping tabs on who we lost so we could make sure they got back okay, etc.

It was a really rewarding experience to help runners reach new distance milestones, share some of the things I've learned along the way, and just enjoy the group's enthusiasm and hard work. I've considered being a pace leader next season, but I'm not sure I'm committed to the attendance requirements enough to do that. Plus, if I want to run the 20 miler at Whispering Pines in April, maybe it makes more sense to do the marathon training instead? I dunno. Still pondering.

Trails with Rosie

When I wasn't running with DRC, I was running with Rosie on a trail somewhere. We ran Eagle Mountain Lake, which she loved but I was only so-so about for some reason. I guess I like more woodsy trails and the terrain there was more hill country-like... scrubby mesquite trees, limestone, etc. It's very pretty and extremely runnable, but for some reason, I just couldn't get into it. Which make me seem super lame when you look at the pictures. Maybe I was just grumpy that day?

Then we went down to another Endurance Buzz race, the punishing Rough Creek. Rosie and I "only" did the 10k and were extremely grateful after the fact, because "rough" is right. Debbie did the half marathon and it was brutal. I have yet to see a picture that depicts how actually tough the hills were. Here's my best attempt, as I stood at the top and wondered if I could afford a helicopter rescue.

Had to bear crawl down this backwards.

And it's not so much that they were very steep, but that they were made of loose rock that just vanished under your shoes like wet fingers touching cotton candy. Plus, the day warmed up quickly and there was exactly no shade out there. The folks doing the 40 miler... oh man were they troopers.

During the boring part between the hills and the start/finish.

However, Rosie won 3rd overall in the 10k, but cracked her sternum in a fall at the top of the hill pictured above, so there was definitely collateral damage. Especially since the following week, we had plans to run the Lost Loop 12k and camp out at Lake Texoma the night before.

My first camping trip!

At the time, I didn't even realize how much pain she was in, but she was tough and we went ahead with our plans and I'm so grateful we did! It was a beautiful weekend and the Crosstimbers/Lost Loop trail is amazingly fun and diverse and challenging.

I could have done so much more with this weird floating rock formation. Disappointed in my lack of creativity.

Rosie wisely walked the whole thing (much to her chagrin), though I'm so slow and her legs are so long that we actually ended up together for much of the course, which was great because some parts were kinda scary and I would have been nervous to be alone.

So, I'm crushing hard on that trail and can't wait to get out there again. Unfortunately, I have a wedding to attend in Houston the weekend of Crosstimbers, so I'll have to wait a while. *sad face* I think most small races are 100% labor of love, but these two that Teresa puts on are even more so. It's the most low key race environment ever, but still well marked and great food and happy volunteers. Just wonderful in every way.

Somewhere in there, Rosie and I ran an equestrian trail up by Lake Lavon in northeast of Dallas. I hated it. Nothing but getting smacked by spider webs in the face. I spent most of the run shrieking and flailing. Never run trails without a tall, fast person ahead of you, kids! I have no pictures of this one, and I'm okay with that.

Showdown Half

Two weeks later, I got back on the road and did the Showdown Half Marathon (Hook 'em, Horns!) with Tina and Holly, both of whom were in varying stages of a nasty cold, so my time was pretty lousy, but since I was gimping a little bit, it was a good thing to hang back and take it slow. The rolling country course was very pleasant and not nearly as "hilly" as some claim, and the finish line goodies were first rate. Great medal, great shirt, great food, close parking. Can't really ask for more. It was my first Active Joe race and I'm looking forward to more (more on that in my next post).

Holly, Joanna (who I don't actually know), me, and Tina

Rockledge Rumble Tune-Up

Even though it wasn't her favorite trail, Rosie agreed to set out for Cedar Hill State Park with me to get some trail time in two weeks before my longest run ever, the Rockledge Rumble 30k. More on that in my next post, but I felt like mentioning this, because we actually both really enjoyed this trail the second time around. We did it in the spring and apart from some nice wildflower displays, it was rather ho-hum. But we'd only done the 8 mile loop. This time we did the 12 mile loop and it was really lovely! This is still a trail I'd avoid in the summer, though. It's more exposed than I would want and the snakes are aplenty, but it's pleasant, runnable, and nice vistas.

And that gets us up to last weekend...

Rock n' Roll Half Marathon - Dallas 2014

Nothing like a great race to make up for a lousy one. I won't bury the lead: 2:22:14 (and according to Runkeeper, I really ran 13.57, so I totally did 13.1 below my stretch goal of 2:20 -- Woot!)

I ended up running 3/:45 intervals pretty much the whole way. My only mistake was not bringing my ear buds (there was music provided on the course, so I didn't figure I'd need it), but it was a crowded, noisy course and I couldn't always hear the cues to run or walk. Fortunately, I had a pretty good sense for it and was able to fake it pretty accurately when necessary.

I really wanted to try and cut the tangents but man, the course is way too crowded, start to finish, for that. As you can see, you really can add a lot of mileage between that and dodging slower runners. That's the only frustrating thing about run/walk: I'm running a pretty good clip when I run (9:30 min/mile on average), so I'm doing pretty much nothing but passing for 3 minutes. Then *SCREECH* I'm walking for 45 seconds and half of them are passing me again, so I have to wind my way around them all over again.

The course was tough, but tough in the way you'd want a course to be tough. Mostly uphill (with a couple of good downhills) the entire first half, and then pretty much flat/downhill the second half. Or at least that's what I thought looking at the elevation. But really, the downhill/flats don't start until mile 8. So we hit mile 7 and I'm still looking at the crowd ahead of me going uphill. It was not super steep but by then, you're feeling it and my walk breaks were getting longer. It definitely affected me mentally. Lesson learned to be more precise when I look at elevation charts before a race! I think if I'd known it was coming at mile 8, I could have stopped the, "What if it never comes?" negativity in my head.

Does that number seem right? The low elevation was 400 something, peak was 600 something. How did I possibly climb 5000+ feet?

Luckily, 2 things saved me. The first was my beautiful pal Rosie on the side of the course, giving me a hug and cheering me on and generally being her usual encouraging, wonderful self. What a sight for sore eyes and flagging spirits. She'd ridden her bike there, and then rode to another point to see me again. This time, I was already pumped up from an encounter I'd just had, which was "thing that saved me" #2:

I was on a walk break (45 seconds, mind you), and this girl runs past me, turns back to me and says, "Keep at it! Walking only makes it take longer!"

Now, I suspect she thought she was being encouraging or helpful somehow, but I looked her in the eye and said, "I do run/walk. It's fine." Another girl next to me said, "Yeah, me, too." We rolled our eyes at each other in understanding, and the offending girl smiled sheepishly and plodded on.

And a few seconds later, my run prompt sounded and I passed her and never saw her again. But I did see my run/walk friend again, who said, "I guess we left our 'runner' friend behind." Hahahaha!

So, thank you, judgy girl, for lighting a fire under me for the last few miles. If all else failed, I knew I'd still won because I was beating you. xoxo

As far as the race organization and whatnot, it was good. My only beef is that the exit from the post-race festival led you to a parking lot at the opposite end of Fair Park from where the train comes. So I added two miles, during which I called my husband and cried in frustration, as well as stopping twice just to sit down and rest for a minute. But that's my fault for being too out of it to be aware of my surroundings. A sign would have been nice though. Like a really big sign.

It was pretty funny though watching everybody walk to their cars. It was like the Walking Dead... a huge crowd just sort of lurching slowly along.

One more note on my interval strategy: LOVED it. More to the point, the :45 second walk break instead of 1 minute felt great. It was enough to recover, except in a few hilly parts, without feeling like I was leaving any speed on the table unnecessarily. Like, I think :30 would be too little to properly recover and sustain that run pace the full distance.

I also ran the downhills regardless of intervals. There were a few good ones where I knew I could steal some time without putting much extra energy in, so I just kept going through the walk intervals.

What this race does is show me that if I can find a less crowded race so I can cut the tangents and keep the distance down, or a flatter race where the hills don't suck so much energy out of me, I can get that sub 2:20 officially.

But I'll worry about that later, in the fall, most likely. For now,  it's only 3 weeks until the Possum Kingdom 20k, which I have no time aspirations for, other than probably to get it over with at some point. Really looking forward to that and getting back on the trails a bit for something different.

All in all, very happy with my race today. Really couldn't have expected better from any aspect of it. I'm feeling very grounded in my running now. I'm healthier than I've been (THANK YOU, ERIN!!), and while I'm stiff today, I know a good night of rest and I'll be much better tomorrow. I definitely feel better than I expected to after that pace.

The best part? I've done very little other than eat and sit around. And we're going out for milkshakes in a bit. :) Yay running!

DRC Half Marathon 2013

Boy was I nervous about this race. Somehow, on Thursday before the race, I aggravated the old hamgroinstring injury that had plagued me during the Tyler half, and it was far worse than it was before Tyler.

After agonizing and fretting and even considered bailing on the race, I foam rolled and alternated ice and heat trying to get blood flowing and relax the muscles around the injury, which I could tell were having sympathy anger.

That helped a bunch, and the night before the race, I taped it all up really well with KT tape and that seemed to help immediately.

Since this was the DRC half, most of my running group was also running. One lives right by the start, so I parked at her house and we walked over to the race to warm up and meet our group. Our pace leader was going to pace 2:35-2:40, but my goal was 2:30, so I knew I could start with them to avoid going out too fast, and then once I'm warm, let my body tell me what it was up for.

After a couple of miles, another runner, Rachel, who was aiming for 2:30 but working through IT band issues, and I started to pull ahead of the group. I kept tabs on our pace, trying to hold us at 11:25-11:30 average running 3:1 intervals.

Around mile 9, the path narrows a bit, so Rachel got behind me and she was having to stop and stretch occasionally to keep her IT band from getting so angry. It wasn't long before I didn't see her around me anymore, and around the same time, I remembered that courses were never 13.1 on the nose. If you're lucky they're 13.2 or 13.3, but Tyler was 13.6 and I'd done my pace calculation for 13.1.

I was feeling good, other than my usual hip flexor tightness, so I decided I needed to run as fast as I comfortably could while keeping enough energy to finish strong. I had time to make up if I wanted to make sure I hit 2:30 since I had no idea how long the course really was.

You can see by my splits where I had this realization between miles 9 and 10. And where, between 12 and 13, I started to feel a little woozy and had to back off my pace a little. But once the finish line was in sight, I put everything I had into the "sprint" to the end. I just had this feeling if I didn't, I wouldn't make my time, and if I was just seconds from hitting 2:30, I was going to be really, really disappointed to left anything in the tank.

So, I ran and ran. Of course, we were in the third "slow people" corral, so the gun time was well off, but I thought my Runkeeper time was probably pretty accurate and it was 2:30:45. Ended up with my chip time being 2:30:34, so I'm calling that mission accomplished. But imagine if I hadn't stepped up the pace! Man, I'd be SO disappointed to have come so close and not gone for it. It was well worth pounding through the finish with my mouth agape from sucking wind and looking anything but victorious. Who cares? I made my goal time!

There were 5 things I cared about after the race:

1. WATER: In fact, I breathlessly said, "Thank you. Where's water?" to the girl handing me my medal. "Right behind us." "Perfect."
2. FOOD: Oh man, the line for the food tent was so long and I was hurting and couldn't imagine standing still in line for as long as it looked like it would take. 
3. BEER: Dammit, the line for the beer area was even longer than the food line.
4. MASSAGE: Ah! A short line! That 10 minutes felt really luxurious. It wasn't so much massage as skilled, gentle stretching, which felt amazing. Well worth missing beer and food for. 
5. FRIENDS: I saw one of my running group folks while I was in line for massage, and then found the one whose house I parked at just as I got off the massage table. Unfortunately didn't see Rosie (who ran 2:08 for Pete's sake! I heard her yelling for me as I crossed the finish but was too focused to acknowledge her in the moment, but I think she left by the time I got done with massage) or anybody else, but you win some and lose some. 

We walked back to my friend's house and I headed home to an ice bath hubs had drawn for me. Yowza. I have no idea if it helped, though. I still had my usual 2 days of recovery before I even wanted to think about running, and my first run on Wednesday to the gym and back (1.7 miles each way) was not great, but not due to soreness. I was just excited to run and went too fast at the start. And then doing dumbbell squats at the gym didn't help my run back. Plus it's big rolling hills between here and there. Blah blah blah.

As you can see from my splits and the elevation changes, the DRC course was quite flat, so it's a great PR course, with hills only in the middle where you're still feeling good. Good course support and nice familiar terrain since we train on those very streets. But next time, I'd check a bag with chocolate milk and a banana so I wouldn't have to wait in line for sustenance.

Up next is the Turkey Trot 8M on Thanksgiving and then the Isle du Bois 18k trail run on Dec. 6. Rosie and I are running trails on Tuesday (smooth/flat) and Saturdays (technical) until that race and did our first at Cedar Ridge Preserve on Saturday. It was really lovely and took 1:45 to run/hike the 5 miles of trail we pieced together. What a totally different experience trail running is and how much more fun it is with a friend! I feel very fortunate to have found a like-minded runner to have adventures with.

I want to get back to doing MWF at the gym and probably doing very easy runs there (weather permitting) on Monday and Wednesday. Then doing speed work on Thursdays. Very much looking forward to this month of training. Lots of diversity in the cards!

Tyler Rose Half Marathon 2013

So, it might not have been the smartest idea ever to choose, as my first half marathon, the one that makes all the runners in the North Texas area go, "Whoa... HILLS."

But I think I've made it pretty clear by now that I'm just winging it and if it looks like I did something quite smart, I mostly just got lucky. For example, mid-October weather is highly unpredictable weather in north Texas. So, to sign up for the Tyler Rose is to potentially sign up to run non-stop hills in super-humid 80 degree weather.

This very real threat smacked me in the face the morning before the race when I opened my back door in Dallas to let the dogs out. Warm and oppressively humid. Houston humid. I first thought about my poor running group doing 11 training miles that morning, and then thought, "Oh crap, this better blow out by tomorrow."

It was humid and yucky and drizzly all the rest of the day. I kept checking the weather hoping this was the ugly end of a cold front blowing through, but the 5 weather apps on my phone refused to budge off lows in the mid 60s and highs in the high 70s with nearly 100% humidity for Sunday.

"Run? On THESE hills, Doctor?" - Rose Tyler

What have I done?

Fortunately, Saturday's warmth abated, cloud cover kept the sun from being a factor, and the light mist in the air kept me from overheating, despite the sweat dripping off my fingertips as I ran. I might not have felt smart for signing up, but at least I didn't feel dumb for it either.

 I knew when I signed up for the race, I had two main challenges: First is that my longest training run had been 10.5 miles. I was throwing this race in a little ahead of where we were on the schedule. Second, those hills. I read race reports, I asked people who'd run it. I said, "So, what kind of hills were they? Long slow hills? Short steep hills? LONG, STEEP HILLS??"

All the kinds of hills, they said. Okay. I live in a hilly neighborhood with all the kinds of hills, and our training runs included hills (both on our Tuesday night runs where we did a few hill repeat workouts, and on our long runs around White Rock Lake neighborhoods). I figured the best I could do was devote all my Thursday runs to hill work in my own neighborhood. So that's what I did. Dutifully, every Thursday, 3-5 miles of hills.

I didn't know if I'd done enough, but at least I could sleep easy and know that I did as much as I could for where I'm at in my training.

The DRC 15k Loop club race the Saturday before threw another challenge my way, when my overzealous speed, thanks to my determination to beat the pants off the girl in the Pujols shirt, led to me pulling my hamstring. PUJOLS! (I beat her soundly, BTW, so it was worth every painful step.)

So, now I'm running:

• My first half marathon
• It's super hilly
• I'm slightly injured
• It's humid, and
• I'm nowhere close to finishing my half marathon training.

I wasn't sure what my goals were for the race other than to just get through it, but as race day came within reach, it clarified for me.

Three main things:

1. No racing; run training pace and enjoy the journey. Even if Pujols himself lopes past me. Do. Not. Chase.
2. Don't make the injury worse.
3. Finish strong and smiling.

I had a time of 2:45 in my head as respectable, but given all the unknowns, I just couldn't tie any goals to time. I had to listen to my body and do what I needed to do (even if that meant stopping at a port-a-potty midway so I could run a more comfortable race... man, I hate stopping and I hate port-a-potties).

So, when Runkeeper kept telling me at nearly every mile marker that I was clocking an average pace of exactly 12:33, I knew I was meeting goal #1. That's a little faster than my group training pace, but my instinct during races is closer to 11 and I'd had easily beat that into submission. Happy.

I felt my hamstring maybe once the whole race. I'd put KT tape on it and between that and taking it easy and running my natural stride (not too short, not too long), it was a non-issue. Happy.

The final mile and change of the race has two big uphills. As I was approaching the 12 mile marker, my phone gave me the ol' "7% battery" warning. Shit. I was NOT losing this race data! So I decided to ditch my 2:1 intervals and run it in. I felt great and knew I had this final push in me so long as my hamstring stayed quiet.

And so, I ran. And I felt strong. And entered the rose garden and there were my parents cheering me in and the guy announcing my name and the photographers and the finish arch and the people handing out medals and bottles of water and the astroturf or grass or whatever the green under me was, was so soft on my tired feet. I finished strong and smiling. Happy.

I'll admit to a tinge of disappointment in my time, but when you factor in the 5 minute potty stop (3 women ahead of me), I really wasn't that far off the mark with my 2:53 finish.

Once I gathered myself and thought about the race with some clarity, the one goal I was afraid to set was the one I met and am most proud of: Conquering those hills.

Because I never once thought how bad the hills were. I think maybe one time, a fairly short hill was steep enough that I had to swing my arms a little higher to keep my steady pace up it. I passed people by the dozens on those hills, especially late in the race, especially that last mile, when people who'd passed me miles ago were now slowed to a waddle up these final ascents. 

I was READY for those hills. I whooped those hills. I finished saying, "What hills?" and meant it without an ounce of false bravado. I really thought, "What is the fuss?" And yet in the days after the race, I see tons of, "OMG that course nearly killed me!"

I'm here to tell you, there's nothing to be scared of on this course if you've put your work in. And for what it's worth, I'd characterize most of the hilliness as longer slopes of moderate incline but not much break from the ups and downs either. Do your work and you'll eat those hills for breakfast.

After sweatyhugging my parents, I drank my chocolate milk, ate a banana nut muffin I'd brought (apparently you had to walk up stairs to get to the post race pizza, so no thanks) and hit the road for Dallas. My hip flexors are my achilles heel at the moment (just started working on fixing that) so they were screaming when I got home. I took a nice long nap and then went and played hockey that night.

Not surprisingly, the lingering soreness the next couple of days was in my quads. I worked most of it out of my right (dominant) leg at hockey getting up off the ice, but my left was sore for 2 days after that. Go figure. I really don't understand how the human body works sometimes.

But add playing hockey to the list of victories that day. I honestly thought I would make a mess of it, but we actually ended up winning the game and my stiff legs didn't snap off like I was worried they might.

All in all, I'd call my first half marathon a raging success. Maybe not on the clock but in every other way, from training to mental strength, it was an amazingly rewarding day.