Running in the 302- Rehoboth 1/2 marathon race review

Rehoboth girls' weekend is one of my favorite 48 hour time periods of the entire year.  2 days with some of my very favorite people, lots of laughs, enough food to feed a small village, and some running- what could be better? Oh yeah, the fact that we have NO KIDS.  That's the most awesome part- and this year did not disappoint.
As per usual, I was running late (shocker.) to pick up my friend Eileen. Once we eventually got on the road, it was fairly smooth sailing to the beach.  We arrived in nearly record time and didn't get lost, so major bonus.  We tooled around for a bit, then volunteered at the race for a few hours.  We later met up with the rest of our group, did the obligatory dinner at the Pond and had an early evening.
Day 2: Race day.
Eileen and I got up at the ass crack of dawn to head down to the start.  It was FREEZING, but of course in typical Brooke fashion, I was in my classic outfit of shorts and compression socks.  It was certainly a cold start, but after the initial eye watering and nose dripping, I was good to go.  The 3 miles out to Gordon's pond were great.  I was cranking through miles perfectly on pace.  Next 5k I was in good shape as well.  The I hit my typical stomach cramp wall just before jumping on the trail around 6 miles.  I could see port-a-potties just ahead, so I breathed a sigh of relief.  When I went to open the door, no such luck.  The doors were still zip tied. WTF.  Like big time WTF.  I could not have possibly been more pissed.  And like literally, pissed.  Alright.  I can hold it together until the turn around at 9.  It was a pretty miserable 21 minutes, but I made it.  Again, first port-a-potty, freaking zip tied.  Now, I am hurling curse words left and right.  A few feet ahead is another one, thankfully this one was open.  After a minute or two we were back in business.  While this definitely affected my time, it was so worth it.  There's nothing more miserable in the world than the feeling that you want to die due to your bowels.
The last four miles went by like a blur.  From my calculations (which mean nothing as I am no scientist nor math whiz), I was in the top 20 which I was fine with.  I cruised in the last mile or so while being cheered on by my friends and their cowbells.  I walked through the finisher area and called it a day.
In all, I ran a solid 1:35.50-something, finished 17th female, and 6th in my age group.  Nothing to write home about, but for the first time in forever, I didn't tank out or have a miserable race.  There's nothing specific that I can accredit this to, training has not been super lately, but a nice solid race really puts it all in perspective.
Up next, spring marathon training! I have the feeling my treadmill (that I affectionately call 'Tina') will be having a special relationship over the next few months.  Here's to an awesome 2019 and crushing goals.

Running with purpose...and Trader Joe's

WTF Baltimore.  Who the hell would've thought that a city by the bay would be so freaking hilly.  Every time I went up a hill, there was another freaking hill! Holy cannoli.  
So, here's the basics of the race.  This year I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to find an opportunity to raise money for one of my favorite charities, Back on My Feet.  What is BOMF you ask? Here's the deal, it is a charity organization that is based in major cities around the country, including Philadelphia and Baltimore.  BOMF reps go into homeless shelters or transitional living facilities and recruit individuals that want to participate in a running program.  BOMF develops personal relationships with each person and helps them not only complete a running program, but also helps to create an individualized road map for financial independence.  Each member attends financial literacy classes and job skills training provided through partnerships with our corporate partners. Members can earn financial assistance to remove barriers to employment and housing such as work supplies, transportation and security deposits. Members who achieve employment and housing become Alumni Members. Within six months of becoming a Back on My Feet Alumnus, 90% of members maintain their employment, 60% receive a wage increase and 20% achieve a promotion. Many of the participants are folks that are experiencing homelessness due to unfortunate circumstances and really do want to change- running provides them with the confidence to pursue success. Pretty awesome.  

So, that was the why part of my race- here's the how.  For quite a few months I have been dealing with implementing a new job schedule, kid activities, and so much going on with life in general, running has been an uphill battle. My initial plan to run the full marathon had to go on hold for the moment, so I dropped back to the half.  It was a gorgeous fall day to drive down to Bmore, and with a 9:45 start, there was plenty of time to park and saunter over to our staging area.  Luckily, the Raven's stadium parking was totally free to runners and only about 3/4 of a mile walk to the star area of the race.  Baltimore (much like any other city- don't hate) can be intimidating- especially when you are on a time crunch.  Kudos for that.

The race started much like any other.  Me wiggling my way to the front of the starting area, barely paying attention to race announcements, fiddling with my watch, and off goes the cannon. Immediately, there's a four or five person pile up.  Luckily, I got out of that one unscathed.  Miles started clicking away.  I was running with some dude and we were chatting a bit.  'Don't go out too hard.' he said.  Yeah.  Ok.  Sure.  6 miles in and I totally saw what he meant.  Hills upon hills with a side of incline.  At 45 minutes, I knew I could no longer keep beating myself up for not making goal finishing time, so I started doing 2:30/2:30 on/off (for nonrunners, this means 2:30 fast, and 2:30 recovery) but that really didn't even happen because of course I timed it as the 'on' part was always uphill and the 'recovery' was on a blistering downhill.  Everything went out the window around 8 miles and it was just a push to the finish.  At 12 miles, I started having a back spasm, but kept up all the way to the finish, and of course then immediately disappeared.  Awesome.

I wandered aimlessly for a while before returning to our tent to change. I threw on some dry clothing and headed out to the after party.  There was beer! And wine! And food! Annnnddd….the results table.  For whatever reason I was a hot emotional mess, and when I checked my results and found out I placed 3rd in my age group and finished around 26th female overall I literally cried a little.  To finish 26 out of over 4000 with a race that more or less sucked and was pure grit was pretty awesome.  At the very least, it finally gave me the confidence boost that I sooooo needed.  The last few months have sucked, but I am starting to feel like myself again, and it was exactly what I was literally chasing.  

And then I stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home.  It was awesome.  

5ks are not my bag.

How is it humanly possible that a girl who used to cry when assigned to anything over the 800 meter run in track meets now can't finish a 5k without looking like death was about to warm over? Well, yes, friends it is possible.
Over the summer and fall I have competed in 2 5 mile races (one sucked, one not so much) and 3 5ks.  Take a wild guess which sucked wayyyy more? Ding ding.  You got it.  F 5ks.  Here are the things I have recently learned.
Getting old sucks.  At 36 I am definitely in prime shape, but no longer successful long sprint shape.  Anymore a 5k is simply 20 minutes of life just sucking.  For the life of me, I can't even break 20 minutes anymore, which used to be a walk in the park.  While it's disappointing, it has taught me that there are much more important things than winning. Accepting that in my ripe old age, it's time to focus on some different stuff.
I have heard the frustration of many of my mom friends that they simply don't have time to train, I must be so lucky to fit long training into my schedule, etc.  and here's the deal...there's no secret.  While I refuse to wake up at the ass crack of zero-dark-thirty to shove in a miserable (and frankly dangerous) long run, I will head out at 2 pm and squish in some miles.  I will also spend lots of quality time in my basement on the treadmill, binging a random ultra-violent Netflix show (currently, season 10 of the Sopranos) with closed captioning on, while taking 15 minute breaks to make sure my children are not strangling one another.
I see some other runners on social media posting about their amazing last race and how they 'get' to run miles and miles outdoors while their kids are in school, and OF COURSE I am jealous.  It sucks to know that the 'if onlys...' start to creep in.  If only I could get up earlier...if only I was more dedicated....if only my job was different....but guess what.  I am working with what I got.  Maybe that means one race every 6 months or missing out on something I want to do, it is what it is and I have to be happy that I have a supportive family, a great network of running friends, and the ability to put one foot in front of the other.  Maybe I am not in as good of shape as others, maybe I am dying to travel across the country to race, but at this point, none of that matters.
So, 5k PRs might be a thing of the past, or maybe not.  No matter what happens, I will always be thankful I can do what I love to do.  And that's run.

And eat.  Let's not forget about that.  ITS PUMPKIN SPICE SEASON.  Yes, I am that basic.
Cheers friends! Happy Running

I really never need to hear 'Sweet Caroline' again

Did I miss the memo that Sweet Caroline is the official song of Boston? Whelp, according to the folks that braved the terrible elements of the 2018 Boston Marathon...it is.
Let's back track.  My husband and I arrived in Boston on Saturday night.  We are lucky to have a cousin that lives in the burbs, so we were able to shack up at her place for the duration of our stay which was AWESOME.  Sunday, we hit the expo, and weather reports continued to take a downward turn. And by downward, I mean totally shooting to shit.  Like 30 mph wind gusts, pouring rain, potential freezing rain kind of shot to shit.  Sigh.
So, we did what any runner preparing for a HUGE race would do. We went to a micro-brewery.  Unfortunately for me, I was FAR too nervous to enjoy a delicious beer, but there were dogs.  Yes, dogs in the brewery.  It was awesome.
A couple of hours later, we threw down some pasta, and headed to an early bed.
Monday, I woke up to rain.  Lots of rain.  And wind.  My running outfit for the day, a totally sweet new singlet and favorite shorts were totally out of the question.  Being that I am so pale right now I am practically florescent, pants seemed like a good idea anyway.  I layered up, wrapped myself in an old space blanket and topped it all off with a Star Wars plastic poncho.  It was quite a look indeed- very fashion forward.  The hubs dumped me off at the bus pick up location near the finish, and off we were.  After what seemed like YEARS, we finally got to the athlete's village.  Typically, one may assume that this is like Disney World for runners, but on this day, it was a bootleg version with huge puddles of mud, runners laying around on dirty yoga mats, and frankly, it was just depressing.  We all knew that over the course of the next few hours we would be in the rain soaked, freezing cold sixth circle of Hell.  And that was pretty much what it was.
Once the race finally started and I stripped off layer after layer (don't think for one second this was sexy in any way whatsoever.  It was not.), I knew that it was not going to be a day for a PR or anything close to a PR.  I just closed my eyes and planned to gut out every single step and try to run close to even half marathon splits.  Miles clicked away and I ran through the first half in right around 1:43- right where I knew I needed to be to re-BQ.  Around mile 17, we hit the hills, which consequently did not suck nearly as bad as they did last year.  I powered through the inclines and finally at mile 21 they were over.  The rain did not cease for a single second and it was almost comical at times.  By 24, I rounded the bend and finally saw the freaking Citgo sign.  I may have cried a little at this point.  Without much fanfare, I crossed the finish, and it was quickly clear that I was done.  Like put a fork in me, I am so done I don't know if I will make it to the train.  I found my husband, thankfully pretty quickly and we headed out.  I was so desperate to change into semi-dry clothing, I changed in the disgusting train station bathroom.  This may have actually been one of the more difficult parts of race day as the stall was tiny, and at this point in the game, I started cramping.  Do you know how hard it is to put on pants with a leg cramp? Impossible.  Don't try this at home.
So, in closing, running in the cold rain sucks, don't try to put on pants with a leg cramp, but be thankful for finishing and tossing around your bad assery.  That crap may have sucked, but in the end, running a smart race makes you a better runner every damn time.