I never saw that coming!




Run-streaking, that is. Sorry for getting your hopes up (or, perhaps, terrifying you). I have been trying to complete a 30 day running streak. For many, 30 days of running every day isn’t very long so this personal challenge may seem somewhat insignificant, but for me 30 days, every day, is tough. I’m a teacher – a dance educator, actually- so I am fairly active throughout the day. It’s a real effort some days when my body is tired an aching from tormenting my students to come home and train. So I decided to force myself, to give myself a reason to get off my lazy butt that would much rather sit on the couch drinking wine and cuddling my dogs.

So, here I am, at the half way point. Working my way on the downhill side and here’s where things are at.

Let’s start with the basics:

The “Commandments”

  • Thou shalt run every day
  • Thou shalt run a minimum of 15 minutes every day
    • I figured 10 minutes was just too damned short, I mean even 15 is pretty short but when you’ve already danced for 3 hours in the day, a 15 minute run takes a heck of a lot of effort. I needed a “bailout” point that still made me work at least a little and also didn’t incur the wrath of my athletic therapist who is constantly scolding me for pushing too hard.
  • That shalt not worry about distances/speeds throughout the process
    • This is proving next to impossible, despite my best efforts. The Gazelle gets a daily text with me complaining that my Garmin foot pod is suddenly registering a slower (this is what I tell myself anyway)
  • Thou shalt award thyself with a trip to Thermea at the end of the 30 days.
    • This is the only thing keeping me from saying “Screw it!” and laying on the couch with wine and puppies.

The “Why”

  • I got instantly lazy after the redemption 10k. The couch won the battle for nearly 2 weeks before I even bothered to lift a foot
  • I needed a challenge that wasn’t about beating a time, distance, The Gazelle or trying to keep up with her husband
  • I want my pants to fit despite my incredible love of fried food and chocolate, plus we have an upcoming vacation that requires bathing suits
  • I need to learn to listen to my body and let it just be OK to be a little slower/shorter/less awesome on my run
  • Why not?


Here are my thoughts so far:

Let’s start with the “bad” and just get that out of the way.

  • My legs hurt. They are tired. My right hamstring hates me.
  • It’s really hard to WANT to run every day, especially when I haven’t slept well or work makes me want to eat my body weight in poutine.
  • Laundry. Oh…so very much laundry
  • I totally bail at 3km (about 15 minutes) more often than I should.


The Good so far:

  • My pants fit even with the influx of leftover Halloween candy and the daily dose of “breakfast chocolate”
  • I actually want wine LESS – I even turned it down one evening. I know this makes me sound like an alcoholic but a glass of wine is often part of our dinner/evening routine and with running, I want water more than anything.
  • I’m choosing better foods the longer this goes on. This isn’t an intentional thing and also has to do with the giant box of tomatoes, 12 pumpkins, mountain of carrots, full bag of fresh garlic, etc that we were given. There’s a lot of clean eating in my house and I’m feeling pretty good
    • **except for the one day were I pretty much wanted to eat everything and anything. I probably would have eaten you if you were nearby. I was RUNGRY in ways I’d never been rungry!**
  • I am learning to back off when things are sore or tired. That’s a big challenge for me. It makes me feel less bad about the early bail outs because I justify it as “I’m learning not to push until I injure myself”
  • My dog, Maddy, runs right after me. She loves the treadmill so her short little Puggle legs get a workout after I’m done. It’s a little extra bonding time for just me and her while her two puppy-siblings watch.
    • this is less cute/fun when she tries to jump on while I’ve got the treadmill going at a speed of 7.2)
  • My body responds really well to running and there are noticeable (to me) changes in just 15 days. I feel more comfortable, confident and strong that I did before. I’m excited to take a mid-way point photo tomorrow morning and to take an end of the running streak photo in 2 weeks.


I will save my “would I recommend this” decision until I’m done because there are still 2 weeks to go but so far, I’m really proud of this process and my ability to stick to it. Only 15 runs left to go until I head to the wonderful relaxation of Thermea.






The final two (races of the year)

In theory I have now completed all my races for the year. I say  “in theory” because we all know that I am competitive as hell and am likely to find myself challenged by someone to take part in some unplanned race.  Currently, I am done for the year. So here are the “reports” from the final two.

RMRaces: 10k

I was so excited for this race that I can’t even describe it. It was the very first time the organizers of the Riding Mountain Triathlon were organizing a half marathon/10k run and I couldn’t wait to take part. What could be better than taking part in the inaugural event happening in my favorite place on earth!?! Originally, I had planned to take part in the half marathon with the goal of a personal best, but for the first time ever, realizing that I was seriously under-trained and far too exhausted from starting back to work doing this teaching thing, I made the smart/right choice and registered for the 10k.

Race morning was brutal. It was misty/rainy and cold- an all around “yucky” day  but that’s good, right? I hate running when I am too hot and a cool day means that overheating isn’t a problem! It just means I have to run faster to stay warm.

As the race started I found myself happily giggling and pacing myself towards the front of the pack. The race was “headphone free” so I was stuck listening to the sounds of my own suffering and I tried to distract myself by looking at all the fall colors dancing around the town-site and through the campground. It worked wonders until I hit the first bigger hill at which point the admiration of oranges and golden browns was replaced by subtle cursing under my breath about how much this Prairie Girl hates hills.

I worried about maintaining my pace without music to distract me so I found someone who was running at the pace I wanted to go, positioned myself behind her and just kept muttering “don’t lose sight…don’t lose sight…don’t lose…crap… oh, there she is… don’t lose sight.” Eventually this stopped being effective and I needed some other form of distraction from my labored breath, cold toes and intense desire to hop down one of the side streets and just head back to the comfort of the cabin. So I started counting to ten. First from one and then in reverse…one to ten, ten to one. Repeat. We approached the spot where I believed us to be heading down to the lakefront but there was no indication that the course dropped down. There was no sign and no human there either.  A water table was ahead with volunteers so I did as the other runners did and aimed for that. Grabbed my water, followed the runners and kept on trucking…I mean running.

Something seemed off. I had studied the map. I knew where we were supposed to turn but why had there been no sign or volunteer? In my gut I knew some thing wasn’t right but instead of being smart and trusting that intuition I started to wonder if there had been a course change due to weather, or maybe I had misread the map? And then it all became clear. A group of panicked runners turned around and started yelling “We are on the wrong path!! This is the half marathon’s path!!”

Ugh. Damn.

Around we turn, head back, all of us muttering and grumbling. Nearly 20 runners head back to the water table unhappily telling the volunteers that we could have been directed properly. Suddenly some girl jumps out of the van where she had clearly been keeping warm and directs us frantically while yelling “there’s a sign at the bottom of the hill!!” OH GOOD!! The sign is at the BOTTOM of the hill…where it’s not visible. Well, that’s helpful. At this point, I am cold. I am grumpy. I am on the lakefront path being blown backwards by the strong wind that is cutting through my gear and I am seriously contemplating just heading up the stairs that lead towards the cottage and the warm fireplace within. But, my aunts are both standing out in the cold, waiting for me to run by. I’m now way behind my planned schedule for the race but there’s not much to be done but finish it. I change my mental game from setting a 10k PB to just finishing. I sulk to myself about the loss of my awesome place in the race, keep running and smile for the camera as I go past my aunt.

At the finish line, my very cold husband and shivering dogs are wondering why the heck I’ve taken so long. I run hard to the finish, get my medal and then sigh in frustration.

I’ve gone a very cold extra 2km.

I was poised to win my age category and instead, finish 4th. I find it somewhat amusing in the end. Plus, it was one of the prettiest medals ever.



Win #1 was the fact that I made it to the start line. No hospitalization for me this year. **place happy dance here** Honestly, the memories from last year caused me so much anxiety through the week leading up to the race that I could barely breathe. I actually ended up being prescribed an inhaler because it was so bad.  I actually was wondering if I’d even be able to run courtesy of the breathing difficulties but come race morning, I’m up and bouncing out of bed and happily headed to the bag check.

The nerves, however, didn’t stop and I think I must have used the bathroom about 6 times when I got to the race site, including a frantic last second port-a-potty trip with just a few minutes before the start of the race.  Stupid nervous bladder combined with a little extra coffee and hydration.

Time to go!!!!

The gun fires and we are off. One foot in front of the other. I’d lost my friends when I’d stopped at the port-a-potty so I was on my own. I kept an eye out for them as I danced and dodged my way through the throng of runners.  I waved to my friend Jeff as I ran by and happily continued sneaking through those in my way. The Gazelle was in sight so I ran past her – but not without a smack on the ass as I passed. I had a good pace going and I had set my watch to yell at me if I went out too fast at the start or got too lazy and slow. I given that my watch was tucked away under my gloves, I really had no idea what my pace was but I was passing people, so I was happy.  As I discovered in a previous post- it really is about ego. My ego just happens to be fed by leaving people in my dust.

Sometimes it’s important to remember why we run and more than once throughout the year, when things have been difficult I have reminded myself that I run because I can.  In this race it was true more than ever. I was running because I could. I was so happy to be at the event. For a year I had both anticipated and dreaded this race and for days leading up to the event, flashbacks and memories of hospital stays, the inability to walk, the emotional drain of being often confused and anxious flooded back. Every moment contained a slight fear that this illness would return and it haunted me nonstop. But, here I was. I was running strong and I was running happy. There was a special joy in the event and 8km passed before I knew it. At about 8.1km I realized that I was tired and the fight began over pushing forward or taking a little walk break. My watch buzzed my slowing pace.

In the distance, I could see a runner who resembled the Gazelle’s husband. He and I run a similar pace and he had a lofty 48 minute goal for the race. Could it be that I wasn’t that far behind??? My excitement level increased and I started to pick up my pace again. It turned out it wasn’t the runner I thought it was but that belief gave me an extra push to run to the finish with a smile on my face. Even when my leg got caught in the rope of the start line inflatable which had fallen on to the course and I lost a few seconds shaking it off and cursing slightly (or colorfully, depending on who you ask), I was still ready to cross that finish line with the same gleeful passion I had started with.

I finished this race in the top 8% of the 1030 men and women who ran the 10k and knocked 2 minutes off my time. There was a small flood of emotion crossing the finish line. It was an accomplishment but better yet it was redemption. As one of my co-runners on a Facebook forum said: I kicked life in the face.

On a side note – that was a hell of a fast course. With a pace of 5:04/km I was still 6th in my age category according to chip time. Who are these women who can run a 10k in under 44 minutes??? My short little bulldog legs just don’t move that fast! They must be freaks. The Gazelle tried to convince me that I qualified as one of the freaks but I don’t think I’ve earned that title yet. Maybe next year.



You know what that sound is? It’s me hitting the wall. And not the cool “Game of Thrones” wall where the Watch is on duty and I might get to chase after Jon Snow, but the one that hurts a lot more: the training wall.


Theeeeere it is. The moment where any sort of productive training stops, everything feels like death and you are definitely regressing not PROgressing.


I hit it face first this time. I actually didn’t see it coming which makes it all the more frustrating. But there it is…


The lack of progress, the backwards slide, the wrenching frustration that comes with just  not being able to feel GOOD about any of the training sessions.

Mine hit right after the half marathon a month ago. That race was fan-fricken-tastic. I mean, yeah, the IT band hurt and, yeah, I hobbled through the last two kilometers while seriously considering just sitting down and asking someone to drag me, but I finished in my goal time so that makes it fan-fricken-tastic. And then it all fell apart.

I have fallen spectacularly from grace. THUD!! From 13.1 in under 2 hours to not being able to get through 5k without stopping repeatedly to die a little.  Now, I am accustomed to the first few runs after I move to the lake sucking. I am a prairie girl who runs on the flat flat flat and then I end up in the Canadian Shield trying to make my body heave itself up steep hills, or the long, drawn-out hill that I affectionately call “the hill from hell” because, while it doesn’t seem so steep, it just keeps going forever…and ever…and ever…

This year, however, my body seems to be refusing to adjust. Even when I went to my other family cottage in Riding Mountain National Park, which has less challenging hills, my body just says “nope!” Most years, after a week or so of hauling my sorry ass up the hills (and believe me, half way up those hills,  it is VERY sorry),  I can get the groove going. This year however, the theme of each run is “THUD…ugh….wall”. Today, I decided to mix it up with some sprints, so with 30 second sprints at 1 min/km faster(minimum) than I usually run, hitting the wall made a little more sense– I mean, sprinting uphill is two horrible things combined– but it wasn’t during the sprints where I started to fall apart, it was the cool down. Go figure.

How much is mental? How much is physical? Is one better than the other? I mean, I’m kind of pulling for the mental because then it’s all in my head, not that I am entirely sure how to fix it. And, if it’s physical, how on earth did I crash and burn so quickly??

Either way… I need a solution and quickly because that “THUD” is really starting to hurt!  Plus, I have two Sprints coming up a week apart and if I don’t get my butt in gear (hahaha) they are  not going to go well!

Seeking advice 

I’m stuck. 

I mean– I’m stuck. For the last few years my world has happily involved running and for the last two triathlon training has reigned.  

I’m finding though- that my motivation is failing. Perhaps it was the serious illness that derailed it– I’ve never been able to get back on track since– perhaps it’s something else. I don’t know.

What I know is this: 

I fell in love with running. Then I fell in love with being a tri-girl. Last year, my half marathon goal was front and centre. My body was a machine. I craved the endorphins of a good run, cycle or swim. 

And now I’m lost. 

My body is not the same. I don’t feel like a “machine”. My mind feels weak.  Vestibular Neuronitis derailed me and I just can’t find the passion. I WANT to do my best, I want to compete and keep bettering my times but I’m struggling to move forward.  My half marathon is approaching and I can’t get one foot in front of the other. 

I would love to hear your suggestions. Perhaps to talk. 

How do I fall in love again ? 

Continuing the battle

I got sick in October. It’s now almost Christmas and I’m still dealing with the effects. What a struggle it is to try to get back on track.  I still have bad days with the vertigo and the other things that came along with the virus (the confusion, anxiety and depression) still linger at times.

For the first little while, all I wanted to do was run and cycle and I was so frustrated that my body wouldn’t allow me to be successful doing it. I tried and found some successes but the frustration eventually took over. I moved on to some strength training because it didn’t increase the dizziness as much but the truth is – my energy and motivation are gone. I WANT to get back on track but the energy it takes to train seems to be more than I have. So, I stick to short strength workouts a couple times a week.

I get so frustrated with myself that I’m not training properly and then that frustration leads to a sense of defeat. When the defeat kicks in, I am unmotivated to train. And then I become frustrated with myself for not training properly. What a lovely cycle. When I do train, runs and cycle sessions are usually met with step backwards – less speed and endurance or increased dizziness. I went from running a half marathon and getting ready to set a 10k PB to finding 5k a struggle. It’s heartbreaking and I’m not used to failure.

We have a big trip coming up over Christmas and I was looking forward to going for a run in each place we stopped – Kansas City, Memphis, New Orleans and Galveston- before taking my run to the cruise ship decks but I fear my goal with go unachieved.  Perhaps the ability to run outside without snow might create a little motivation when we get on the road but for now, it seems a challenge.  I’m not usually one to walk away from challenge but this illness seems to be kicking my butt.

I wonder how others with this illness get back on track. At this point, even though I have done it, I’m afraid to run. It honestly scares me. What if I fall over? What if I can’t do what I think I should? What if…


Health and heartbreak 

My body failed me. 

And it failed me in ways I couldn’t even have imagined. It wasn’t an injury that took me down, it was my health. The day of my last planned 10k race of the season I was hospitalized and never got to run.  It has been a frustrating and awful few weeks. I’m recovering now…I’m getting there but I’ve been afraid to really talk about it for a few reasons.  One is that there is this ridiculous idea that we are supposed to suffer in silence. And I ascribed to that for a while…but finally the silence makes the struggle worse and about two days after I admitted to struggling, I started to really improve. The other is the accusations by a very select few that I was exaggerating or faking my illness, or that it was only a matter of over training and my body was just tired. None of which are true.

It was the most terrifying morning of my life. 

I thought I was dying. I couldn’t stand or walk. I couldn’t get to the bathroom on my own. And it was the difference of an hour. At 4 am I woke up thinking I was late for my race and was fine. I went back to sleep and woke up and hour later and everything had changed. I woke my husband for help. He had to lift me, carry me, dress me. I was helpless. I was unable to open my eyes because I would be instantly sick. I couldn’t get myself off the floor. 

I should be at the race
At the hospital, every examination the doctors wanted to do made me ill. I couldn’t move or open my eyes. IV drips of Gravol didn’t stop the spinning or the nausea for a while. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had gone from being strong and ready to set a personal best in the 10k race to having to be lifted out of bed and helped in the bathroom. I was humiliated and scared. It was beyond what I thought I could handle. I felt weaker physically and emotionally than I ever had.  The diagnosis: likely a nasty and ugly viral infection. 

Able to sit up the next day

By the next day I could sit up some but I couldn’t be left to move on my own. Nurses or my husband monitored me as I shuffled my feet along the floor, staring down at the ground because it was the one thing that didn’t move on me. They moved me to a ward where I was the youngest by over 30 years. The woman next to me would scream all night in Italian (which now has an element of hilarity) and I still couldn’t do anything on my own. Out of stubbornness I would try only to get scolded. I wanted to go home.

In my head- home was the golden ticket to recovery. I would get home and all would be well. And then I got home. And I didn’t get better. I was still too dizzy to do much. 

Recovering at home

I was miserable. So miserable, in fact, that I went back to work sooner than I should have. I tried to go back to dance classes, and cycling on my trainer. I was still dizzy and my brain was fuzzy. I just wanted so badly to be “normal” again.  I managed but not as well as I’d like to think. I was afraid to admit that I was struggling because I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak, or lying. There had been select accusations that I was faking. It was crushing. I needed help but was scared to ask. 

I am grateful for those who stepped up and let me vent or cry in frustration. I’m grateful to those who drove me around and made sure I was safe.

I’m on the mend. I’m not 100% but today was a good day. I was able to dance with my classes and when I came home, I was able to drive myself to an appointment. Better yet- I was able to run. It was slow and unsteady. I had to use the handles of the treadmill to steady myself and I pushed perhaps a little too hard but even at a full minute per km slower than usual, today’s run felt like success. 

Slow but at least I could run

I don’t know why my health failed. But I do know that I won’t take for granted my ability to put one foot in front of the other. 

And I will come back stronger. Eventually. 

Kenora Krazy

Last weekend was the Kenora Borealis triathlon. I have never been so happy to be a sprint distance athlete.  THAT HILL! But we will get to that…

Here’s the break down of how things went:

The night before…. my friend Sandra comes out to the cabin so we can go together for the race. We make the decision that I should change the tube on my bike because the patch won’t necessarily hold and after the “land of broken training sessions” I don’t want to risk it.  So, they laugh at me while I struggle and struggle and eventually get it (the next time I had to do this was better…and yes, there was a next time). As we are pumping the tire, things don’t seem right and the tire won’t stay in the rim so my husband takes over and then two minutes later –VOILA– tire ready.  We’ve done this inside because it is, again, raining.  Out goes the bike and 5 minutes later…BANG. The neighbor screams, we jump and the whole community stares at our place. Well, good thing I have another tube to replace the one that just exploded.  We spend the rest of the night waiting for the thing to blow up again. It doesn’t. Thank God. I don’t think I can sheepishly go down and apologize again to the rest of the lake community.

So, we get up the next morning, brave the wall of mosquitoes to load the bikes and we are off for the drive in to Kenora. The whole time I’ve got two thoughts: 1) what have I forgotten? I’ve had nightmares for weeks about things breaking down/falling apart/being stolen (I dreamed that my bike was stolen mid bike course once. Don’t ask me how that happens.) and 2) please don’t rain..please don’t rain.

And then we were there! Got the bike tires checked for pressure, got set up and then spent about 15 minutes debating whether or not I wanted to wear the wet suit. Race time was approaching and I was texting the husband, looking for the husband and not finding the husband. He overslept…… and then we were off!!!


FiNALLY a swim without panic. I took the advice I got from “beginner triathlete” and sang in my head.  A little “Uptown Funk” base line kept me focused and going. I probably could have gone a little harder but the plan for this race was to find a way to swim without freaking out — don’t go out too hard. At one point, I thought I was way behind everyone so I had to mentally keep my game going by reminding myself that the success of this race was not panicking and having a strong swim. I figured I can fix it a bit on the bike and the run. Out of the water, I realized that the person in front of me was my friend and that swim a was a little faster than I thought!

On the way back in to transition I hear my neighbors from the lake screaming out my name. It turns out that they had woken up the husband and they’d come down together.


I got out of transition, forgot my race belt, and then was back out and on the road. The first part of the cycle felt amazing. I passed my friend and was pushing well and then the hill hit.  OH MY GOD THE HILL!!!  Now, remember, I’m a prairie girl. I do get to ride the hills at the cottage but those hills are nothing like this hill…this hill went on and on and on and on….my watch registered the incline at about 100m. It was brutal. I passed a couple people and was like “YES!!! I’VE GOT THIS!!” and then I looked at my speed and started laughing. I might as well have been going backwards.  Don’t ask me how some people managed to fly up that thing. They must have legs of steel and feel zero pain. I yelled at one guy as he came racing by  “you make it look so easy” to which he yelled back “oh hell no”…while moving at double my speed.

The way down that hill was a blast. I wish there wasn’t a head wind because it would have been awesome to figure out just how fast I can go. On the way back in to transition I joked with the volunteers that I wouldn’t forget anything this time.  I can hear the neighbors again screaming and yelling out my number, which they were enjoying way too much (I was “blessed” with number 69…never going to hear the end of it). It made me laugh enough that it pumped me for the final leg.


BARF. At least I thought I was going to for the first 5 minutes. Thank go that passed. The run wasn’t quite where I wanted to be. Mentally, I wanted to go faster…I really did…but my legs were just refusing. I was flip flopping from speeds that I was happy with and speeds where I was like “GOOOOOOOOOO”. Uptown Funk rhythms helped refocus me a bit again. I came across the finish line strong because I didn’t want the lake friends to think I was wimpy and then I was done!


Not going to lie — I was totally disappointed.  I was 6th in my age category and two minutes faster than my sprint last year on an easier course so I should be happy…but I’m competitive and really wanted to place in my age group. That being said — I looked at the times….the women in my age group were just insanely fast!! I was about the same speeds as the men in my age range but those women must feel zero pain to be able to get up that hill at some crazy speeds. But, as my friend reminded me, I was faster than last year and faster than her….and nothing fell apart, unlike the “disastrous race”


The Disastrous Race

There’s always one. Sometimes you see it coming, and sometimes it just sneaks up on you when you’re not looking…the race from HELL.

brrrrrrr!! cold!

In the style of Sophia from Golden Girls….”picture it, Birds Hill Park, Manitoba, June 12, 2016……”

It was a cold, rainy and miserable day. Not what one would expect in June. A chilly 12C, the rain was pounding down, the wind was pulling tents up and over to the point they were being dismantled and put away. The thunder and lightening in the background created an addition enhancement to the atmosphere. And there we were, a group of crazy triathletes, all in our wet suits, huddled together under a tree, trying to escape the torture of the weather and anxiously awaiting information from the race director.”It’s going to be a great day! Just wait! The clouds will be clearing in about 10 minutes!” Came the booming voice over the loudspeaker. I looked at my friend, pointed out that they had said the same thing 30 minutes ago and continued to shiver. The debate was on…could we just do the whole damn race in a wet suit? You could totally cycle and run in it, right? We watched a couple of (smart) people head in to the transition area, grab their stuff and leave. A few minutes later the instructions came that we would be delaying the start and the Olympic and sprint distances would just be starting closer together. In the meantime, we were to go to our cars to warm up. Yup, that’s right. It was miserable enough that we were sent BACK to the cars because it was too damned cold to be outside.My friend and I huddled in the car, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, wondering if, perhaps, we really were insane, drinking coffee and cranking up the heat until we stopped shivering. And then it was time. We wandered down for the pre-race meeting. We figured it was as good a time as any to test the water and see how brutal it was going to be to swim in. Turns out, the water felt wonderful and all the athletes were hiding in it to stay warm. During the meeting, we were dragged out of the water and danced on the sand, our feet freezing to it with every step. As soon as that meeting was over there was a mad rush to get back in to the warmth of the water. The dark cloud and distant thunder loomed in the background, reminding us that we were, indeed, going to do this race soaked, whether we liked it or not.

huddled for warmth

The Olympic athletes were off and our time quickly approached and before I knew it we were off… and I was blind. Anti-fog spray my ass!! I flipped on my back for a bit to try to fix them, breast strokes a few times to get my bearings and then back in to the swim…and then fogged again. Can’t see a thing. No idea where I am on the course. Better fix this…. and then it strikes…

DISASTER 1: The strap lets go. Half way through swim and I no longer have goggles that will stay on my face. CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP. I wear contacts to continuing with my face in the water just doesn’t work. I shove the goggles in my teeth and start breast stroking with my head up through the course, cursing in frustration the whole time. My friend is going to beat me due to goggle failure.  I go racing up in to the transition area just as my friend is leaving. Good, I  can catch her on the bike, it’s not over yet!

Shoes on…jacket on… helmet on…grab bike and GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! I can see her in the distance and I’m gaining on her. My legs are strong, I can do this. Closer and closer…I just need to adjust my gear and…

DISASTER 2: Bike chain drops. CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP. I thought this problem was fixed!!! Hop off the bike, cursing wildly, pop the chain back on. My hands have a coating of grease that matches both the weather and my mood. It’s ok… I can still catch her. PUSH AND GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. She’s still in my view! I can do this!!! and then… well, they say things come in threes….

DISASTER 3: I can feel the twitching in my hamstring…the tightening of the muscle as it fights the cold. The muscle that may not quite be as healed from the tear in October as I would have liked. No, no, no!!! Not today! Not now!! No seizing!! And I can feel it. And… CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP. I’m off the bike, using it as support to get this damn muscle to release. Good enough. I get back on the bike and tell my leg it’s just going to have to suck it up for a while longer. I look up. She’s gone. Defeat sets in.

First loop of the park done and she sees me as she heads for the second loop. She hoots and hollers, celebrates and laughs. I cry. She has no way of knowing the disaster that has been my race. I head out on the second loop a defeated and frustrated athlete. The rain starts a little again, this time, in ice format, pelting me at every turn. The dark clouds and thunder are closer now.  What’s the point? I’m so far behind I must be dead last in the whole race — totally irrational thought as I have CLEARLY been passing people despite everything going wrong. The downfall to the Birds Hill course is that you can end up quite isolated and I assumed I was so far behind. And then I gave up, slowed down and felt a little sorry for myself for a few minutes. And then that passed.

Eff-it. LET’S GO! In to the transition area, I see my friend just heading out on the run. Holy crap. I wasn’t that far behind after all. Damn. I could have caught/passed her if I hadn’t been acting like such a baby (when the results are posted I discover we were a mere 10 seconds apart in cycling time).  Rack the bike and head out on the running course. I’m a fast runner. I can catch her. I’m running, my legs are seizing, it’s freezing, and then the rain dumps. Full out downpour. You have got to be kidding me. At this point, all I can do is laugh. One of the course officials is cycling along side me, also laughing at the ridiculousness that has been my race but giving words of encouragement as I approach my friend. Along side her, I tell her that I don’t know if I can finish. I can feel the twitching in my hamstring again and I think I’m going to seize. But my slow and icky run suddenly shifts. The muscles in my legs loosen a bit as I pass her. WHEEEEE!!! I’m running, I’m moving, I’m going…. there’s the finish line!!!  WOOOT~~~~

And now all I can do is laugh. And when the results are posted, I’m DFL in my group. But I beat the race that wanted to beat me.

(and still snuck past my friend in the last few minutes)

messy and gross post-race

Oh –and on a side note, I ran the relay with my friend in the Manitoba Marathon this weekend and CRAP was it humid. I thought I was going to pass out the whole time. That means I’ve had a race that was so freaking cold that I could barely stand it and one that was so freaking HOT/HUMID that it was making athletes collapse. That means the next one will be perfect, right?

dead effing last

Half Marathon!

Yesterday, I ran my first half marathon. What a crazy experience that was! I’m super proud of the fact that I did it but it made me question my sanity a little! 

For days leading up to it I was panicking and having nightmares that I couldn’t do it. I figured there was no way that I could get through running 21.1 km. Plus, being the overachiever that I am, I set myself this stupid goal — that I wanted to finish in 2 hours. 

For nights I tossed and turned and wondered how this was ever going to happen -especially considering I am just coming off of injury. And then it was race day. Ack!!!
I am amazed that I was not only able to do it but that I was still smiling at the end. I was hurting, my feet and knees were on fire, but time passed faster than I expected.

 I was so happy to run with a friend through most of the race. A high-five from him at the half way mark was a good boost and having someone with me made the nerves settle before the start. 

I spent a portion of the race just admiring the amazing group of people who had taken on this challenge. I was in awe of the amount of people in their 60s full out running this race (and kicking my butt!) and the dude who ran it BAREFOOT (what!?!!)

It was a wild race of emotion. From terror to elation. There were times it felt like I was never going to make it, times where I was flying high and having a great time, times when I just wanted to GOOOOOOOO and times when I wanted my friend to slow down because there was no way I could do that pace. 

I had made the choice to think in miles instead of kilometers because 21.1km seems insane but the smaller number of 13.1 miles seems manageable (plus, I have zero concept of how far a mile is). And, I think that choice helped. On the way out, I noticed where the 12 mile marker was and when I saw it on the way back -what a boost it was!!!

I started to tear up at the 12 mile marker. I couldn’t believe that I had made it that far. And then there were the cheers and the shoutouts from the spectators and I ran faster than I had the whole race, fighting tears the whole time. In the last 100 meters there were kids shouting at another racer (male) “don’t let her beat you!!!” and so he sped up. But so did I. 

And I crossed that line before he did.

And I finished my first half marathon in 2 hours and 26 seconds.

And I may never walk again.

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