A "Finger lickin' good" race report

June.  The month when summer begins, school ends, and drinking takes precedence over running - sort of.  When it gets hot, I get thirsty.  And the only cure is beer.  Or wine, vodka, sangria...

Debauchery and sizzling temperatures aside, I still make time to get my run on at a few local events.  I may not be properly trained or hydrated for any of them, but no need to get serious about running (or anything else for that matter) until the thermometer dips below fifty degrees.

Run #1: Wissahickon Trail Classic

Living in Philly, there are very few hills; until one travels to the outskirts of town to the Wissahickon trails.  On a pleasant Saturday morning, a few friends and I trekked our way outside the city to run 6.2 miles on mountainous-like terrain.  Having ran the race in 2010, I dubbed myself an expert on such nonsense nursed a cocky inner-monologue - for the first mile.  After approaching hill mountain number one, I soon realized just how out-of-shape I was.  I also started breathing like an 85-year-old with an oxygen tank.  As I dodged uprooted branches and shuffled up hills, I became mesmerized in the beauty of nature.  That last sentence is totally bogus; in reality, I was thinking to myself "Is this effing race over with yet?!" while simultaneously enjoying the scenery/trying not to get poked in the eye with a stray tree branch.

When I finally finished the race, glad that I hadn't wiped out on a hill like the guy who beat me at the last second, I basked in the sweat/dirt that encapsulated my body and smiled, for nothing is more satisfying that accomplishing something difficult.  As the sweat in my eye burned, I watched as each of my friends crossed the finish line, all of them grinning, despite the difficult terrain they had just trodden.  Nothing beats camaraderie, challenge and a true sense of accomplishment.  I'll be back in 2012, perhaps with a bit more training under my belt.

Run #2: Fried Chicken Run

Anyone who knows me is aware of my love of meat.  And beer.  And running.  So when the Fishtown Beer Runners decided to combine all three of my passions into one event, you can bet I celebrated - with a beer, of course. 

The Fried Chicken Run was not a race, but a leisurely 5.5 mile run to a bar, where chicken and beer awaited sweaty runners.  Perhaps sweaty is an understatement; more like "drenched" runners.  Thanks to the sweltering Philly humidity, I arrived at the establishment about 2 pounds lighter than when I started the run.  Obviously, I had to replenish all of my lost fluids - with beer. 

If all of my runs ended with the fried chicken/beer combination, then...
Actually, then I'd probably make more bad decisions than I already do...until next year's chicken run!

Race Report - Leprechaun Run

Baby run, cut a path across the blue skies
Straight in a straight line
You can’t get here fast enough

-George Strait, "Run"

From time-to-time, I'll find myself perched at my computer, unable to refrain from purchasing 99 cent country songs.  Sometimes while running, I'll repeatedly play these songs in my head.  And on a particularly spring-like day in March, I did just that. 

Perhaps being born and raised in America's "Heartland" taught me more than just how to navigate unmarked/unpaved roads in the middle of nowhere; it taught me how to cure my boredom with simple tasks.  Like memorizing lyrics to songs.  Only to randomly remember them some 15 years later.

So on a brisk, spring-like Saturday morning in March, I jogged to the start of the Philadelphia Leprechaun Run.  A five-mile race is not a popular distance, but I was eager to see how fast I could run, considering my training has consisted of zero speed work and an average of 20 miles per week.  I clocked the first mile in seven minutes flat, and it didn't feel that fast.  But I always go out entirely too fast in races.  So I focused on remaining consistent.

At the half-way turn-around I silently counted as the leading women passed me on the opposite side of the road.  I was number fifteen.  HOLY SHIT!  At this point, I knew I could break into the top ten. 

Although anxious, I continued to hold my pace.  Instead of focusing on the negative (thoughts like: my entire body hurts or why does that guy next to me keep blowing snot rockets? Ew.), I thought of something calm.  Something I could focus on for the remaining 2.5 miles of agony.  And that something was George Strait. 

Well, that's not entirely accurate.  Strait's song, "Run," for some reason or another, crept into my head.  And I passed one runner.  Then another.  Until, after a 7 minute and 14 second last mile, I crossed the finish line with a personal record of 36:52 and the twelfth woman overall.

As any competitive runner, I've had time to reflect on the race - what I need to improve/what I did well - and although self-satisfaction is sometimes hard accept, I do believe my days of navigating country roads somehow led me to the roads I face today.  Some are bumpy and some are smooth, but instead of running from them, I'm running with them, occasionally taking a beating now and then.  But every once in awhile, coming out on top, cutting my own clear path in the process.

Runnin' old school - a race report

Persevere.  Ask any runner and he/she can probably give you an accurate definition of this word, along with several examples.  And while this may have been an S.A.T. vocabulary word that teachers tried to get students to memorize with some monotonous flash cards, a runner most likely learned the meaning of persevere on the track.  Or a muddy trail.  Or during one of those hellish practices where the coach made the entire team engage in an indian run on a ninety-degree day.

Persevere.  Despite my stellar vocabulary, compliments of Sadlier-Oxford and quality television shows such as "Jersey Shore", I didn't quite grasp the meaning of perseverance until I began running.  Even then, I don't think I could have prepared myself for the obstacles I would endure in my future - running related or not. But looking back, running indeed made all the difference.



Persevere.  If I think back to the first time I was insanely proud of myself for overcoming an obstacle, it would be the New Riegel cross-country meet in eleventh grade.  Being from the country, the course was flat and boring, and of course, included running around a man-made track in the middle of a corn field.  Aside from dodging piles of cow manure during the race, it was an egregiously hot day.  I was not in the mood for a 3.1 mile ass-kicking, which is precisely what happened the year prior. 

However, my dad had showed up for moral/parental support, as he generally did.  Sensing my negative (and bitchy) teenage attitude, dear old dad proposed a challenge - that I run without my watch.  The control-freak in me panicked; how will I know my mile splits?  I can't possibly run a personal record without constantly peeping at my sweat-infused Timex!  As I pondered whether or not I could part with relinquishing control, dad upped the ante and proposed a bet:  If I raced without my watch and improved my time, twenty bucks would be my reward.  To a broke teenager who worked at Hardees, this was all I needed to hear. 

Persevere. As the race began, I remember looking at my wrist several times, only to see a farmer tan where my watch used to be.  After a few panicked moments, I easily settled into a pace and, for the first time, felt a sense of calmness during a run.  Instead of worrying about mile splits, I set my focus on passing as many people as possible.  As I flew by numerous runners, I felt as if a weight had been lifted off of me.  In the end, I crossed the finish line two minutes faster and twenty dollars richer than I had the year before.  Perseverance felt damn good.

Persevere:  It comes in various forms and oftentimes, takes several attempts, as well as some blood, sweat and tears.  But in the end, conquering a goal, in running or life, makes it all worthwhile.

Persevere.

Running in the new year

New Year's resolutions are like jeggings - a good idea in theory, but after awhile, they lose their luster.  Unless you're a runner.



Pre-race mugshot



Although I've never been one to resolude anything on January 1st, beginning 2011 with a positive outlook seemed like something I could latch onto - especially if it involved a frosty midnight run.  So when a friend suggested ringing in the new year running a 5k instead of kissing random strangers, I leaped at the opportunity and thought the following:

Running + friends + new year + open bar = AWESOMENESS!



"Cheers!" to new beginnings

 And awesome it was.  At the stroke of midnight, I "ran" in the new year with a smile, ecstatic that I was entering 2011 doing something I've loved for most of my life.  As I lapped around the Link, it occurred to me that perhaps resolutions are really enjoyable goals that people set out to achieve instead of bothersome tasks on a "To do" list.

As I blazed into the finish shoot, running 22 minutes and some change, I left 2010 in the dust and had a silent epiphany: A new year means letting go, but also, looking forward. 

Champagne in hand, I toasted to a new year and made a resolution to make 2011 the best running year of my life.  As David Gray suggests, it's  "A new day at midnight."  Indeed, it is.