Atalanta's Victory Run 5 Mile

Each year on Mothers' Day, my local running club hosts a women-only race. Similar to the Turkey Trot on Thanksgiving Day, it draws both runners and non-runners alike. Today's event, while technically for girls only, it's not unusual to see a boy in a wig line up next to his mom. He won't show up in the results, but he gets to celebrate the day alongside her.

Families can compete in categories of two, three or four generations. I always feel a little sad that my mom will never be able to share this with me because she's two thousand miles away, but a special race reserved just for all of my favorite club ladies really helps make up for it.

My gal pals and their moms. Rachel's mom adopted me for the day. :) Kristal M, photo.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

I look down at the timing mat spread across the ground at my feet. I've never been this close to the front of the pack in a chip timed race. Never ever. I don't know why, but when I toe a starting line, I have trouble picturing myself ahead of more and more people. Some days, I still think I'm that solid-mid-back pack girl.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

Unlike last weekend's ten kilometer race, I have a decent idea of where my pace should be. Since the McMillan calculator seems to predict my marathon vs. half marathon races well, I've always relied on that for comparison. My 10K time still predicts slower times than my PRs at longer races, but I assume that its predicted time for five miles will be pretty accurate. Goal time: 35:38, 7:08/mi.

The countdown begins and suddenly we're off. With nobody out ahead of me to swerve around, I start off way too fast, keeping pace with some Humboldt Roller Derby girls. Once nearly the entire packs drops off, I survey the competition. Tami and Kristal are up ahead. They always beat me handily. I know I can't hang with them so when I'm still not far behind after the half mile mark, I make sure to slow it down a little bit.

Mile 1: 6:56

Since the very beginning of the race, I've sensed someone tucked in just off my right shoulder. As I round another turn, I look back to see who it is. I'm not surprised at all to see that it's Laura. This year, we've taken turns beating one another. It's been nice having female competition lately, especially someone who is not in my age group, hehe.

Cute calf, taken on Friday afternoon.

The race course makes a few more turns before we reach a long straightaway through farmland. The road is broken and I notice myself weaving around trying to find the best path through the potholes so I don't have to spend as much energy focused on the roadway. Laura is still there.

Mile 2: 7:16

Now that we're out in the open, cattle grazing on both sides in great green pastures, I realize the headwind. Laura mirrors my zigzags. She's so close that I can hear her breathing. I slow to let her take the lead. She slows too. I can feel my lungs tighten up. Wind triggers my asthma and I can feel myself struggling. I try to speed up, angry that she's making me do all the work. She follows.

Arghhh. Interestingly enough, Matt has a guy who does this to him too. Once the guy out-kicked him for the win. He was not pleased. I'm determined to shake Laura. She is not going to beat me today. I round another corner and now the wind is at my back.

Mile 3: 7:16

Suddenly the breathing right behind me stops. I can't tell if it's because of the change in wind direction that I can't hear it or because she's dropped back. Either way, I've just spotted a roller derby skater up ahead. I don't know if they were assigned to help push us along or if she senses my desperate need for company herself, but she drops back to let me catch up.

Mile 3, taken Friday afternoon. Rachel and I wore the same shirt by accident. It's weird how often this happens.

I know that I'll never be able to pass up a roller skater, but I tell myself I can catch her. I pick up the pace, she pulls ahead more. It's a wonderful game of cat and mouse and I'm so very happy to finally have someone up ahead to push me. I fixate on her jersey, amused by her derby name, Peaches N'Scream.

Mile 4: 7:07

The course merges into a large pack of two milers. Just as it is when we lap people in the Turkey Trot, all of them are walking, focusing more on their family outing than the fact that people who are racing for time are behind them. I had mentally prepared myself for this inevitability, but to my surprise, my roller derby escort is parting the pack straight down the middle. "Runner coming through!" she hollers out. We make the same turns as we had in the beginning of the race. I'm still right behind my pacer girl. When we reach the final straightaway, she turns back and engages with me for the first time, "You're doing great! Almost done!" Thanks Peaches!

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

The world existing outside of my head has dropped away. All I see is the finish arch. It's still pretty far away. My lungs and legs are on fire and all I can think about is stopping. You can stop at the arch. Get there soon! There's a frantic sharpness to the voice in my head. Go!

The last hundred yards is uphill and I can feel my form collapsing beneath me. All I can do is hang on.

Mile 5: 6:49

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

35:24
7:04/mi. 
3rd place overall, 1st place F30-34

I pause my watch, doubled over as I catch my breath. A few moments later, I finally get the chance to look down at it. Not only have I knocked ninety seconds from my previous PR (36:52), I've beaten the scary goal McMillan set for me.

Top 3 ladies. Tami B. photo.

As Tami's daughter snaps our picture, it finally dawns on me that I just finished in third place. Over the last year, these two ladies have become so fast it makes me wonder if there really has to be an age-related slowdown. Kristal keeps getting faster and faster and Tami recently broke a marathon PR she set twenty years ago. They're perfect examples of what one can accomplish through hard work and grit. Maybe someday I'll finally be able to keep up with them!

Up next: Summertime goals.

Garden and Found Treasures

Recent rains set our planting back by a week or two, but now we’ve finally got about half a garden. Tomatoes, broccoli, spinach, peas, and radishes are in. Our garlic, parsley, and rogue potatoes everywhere are doing well too. Of course the catnip.

Garlic is lookin' good!

Lesson learned: keep the darn perennials out. Catnip and parsley are errrrywhere.

Each time we root around in the dirt, we find something new. This time it was a child’s barrette. Our house (and presumably the garden too) are only thirty five years old, but I suspect there have been many owners. We learn something new about each of them whenever we open the electric box (there’s one labeled “MJ” that looks like it used to go to the garage), pop open a wall (papers that fell through behind a built-in wardrobe that included a completed “baby’s first year” scrapbook), as well as things in the garden (kid and pet toys). If this property could talk, imagine the stories it would tell.

Do you plant a garden? What do you grow?

I admit that I don't really love gardening. My sinuses swell up pretty fast when I'm actually moving the dirt. Picking the vegetables is the fun part because everything is delicious and my head doesn't swell up to twice its normal size.

Avenue of the Giants 10K Race Report

It's not even light outside when I pull out of the driveway. In exchange for my race entry, I've agreed to volunteer all day both Saturday and Sunday. Since Avenue of the Giants is put on by my moderately-sized running club, it's one of several events each year that is an "all hands on deck" affair. For me, it means I get to run even more races for free. I'm so spoiled. I try to remember that last part as I yawn my way down the highway.

I yawn through packet pickup. The last of the marathoners pick up their bib numbers with sleep in their eyes too as they head to the starting line. I pass out numbers to both over-excited runners and nervous runners alike. Before I know it, Rachel is pulling me away to warm up.

Y. Kim, SRRC photo.

As I pinned my bib number on back home, I couldn't help but notice my confidence. I knew I was going to PR. Not typically so confident in myself, it made me uneasy. Since I have so few 10Ks on my resume, I've been running back to back unofficial 10K PRs in half marathons for awhile. It was time to make it official. I even left my PR singlet at home, opting for the club jersey instead.

This year, the 10K begins with the half marathon. I adjust my starting position accordingly. I'm toeing the line with the lanky speedsters whose fit leg muscles alone are quite intimidating. The race begins and it's less than five seconds before I cross the timing mat. And crap, I'm still stuck behind slower runners. Luckily my speedy takeoff leads me out of the chaos pretty quickly.

Mile 1: 7:17

I've raced and trained on this stretch of road no less than twenty five times. I know all the twists, turns, inclines, and descents. Today, they're going by quickly and in a blur of green. Even this abbreviated version of our redwoods course is breathtaking. My head is so clouded in the fog of discomfort, I try to force myself to enjoy it. For most on the course today, this is a destination race. I get to live in this forest paradise.

Most of the racers nearby are running the half marathon. It's humbling to share a few miles with those who will finish in a time I can only dream of achieving.

Mile 2: 7:03

The course dips in and out of the sunshine. Where is the darn turnaround?! I tuck in behind a guy who has to be running the half because his form and breathing are calm and relaxed. I'm everything but that. I imagine him as the greyhound and myself as the loping bulldog. I'm snorting and wheezing and probably sound like I'm actually dying. I'm sorry you have to listen to this, guy, I think to myself, I'll be gone soon.

Mile 3: 7:06

In addition to this being a familiar course, I'm intimately familiar with the turn around. Most years, I'm the person who spray paints the arrows and mile markers on the road. But today, I'm waiting and waiting and it's slow to arrive. Once I spot the turn around, on one of the steeper downhills, I spot the paint, but no turnaround cone. I make a u-turn on the green paint and begin my return trip.

Once I've resumed my pace, I notice that I've just run a twenty-two minute 5K. I try not to freak out. In fact, my goal for this race was to not freak out. I knew I could beat my previous best of 47:13, but I wasn't sure what time I was capable of running. My 5K time is just thirty seconds faster than my first half split. Do. not. freak. out. Your 5K PR is weak too. No big deal. There are no walls in the 10K. So what if you need to slow down?

Now, I'm facing back into the half marathon pack. I begin hearing cheers. Everyone is shouting my name and that I'm second place woman. All the excitement is exhilarating and I feel like a super hero. My pace increases.

Mile 4: 7:11

Before I know it, I'm back at Weott and running in the full sunshine. Wasn't I just here? When I run the half marathon, it's over an hour between visits to this point on the course. Today, it's less than twenty minutes.

By now, I've glued myself to the only other runner in sight. He's leading, I'm drafting. Then I return the favor. In between labored breaths, I squeeze out a "Thanks for pushing me today. I really a-ppre-ciate it." Words are hard. Especially those with multiple syllables. No more talking.  He's equally breathless in his reply: "You too. Mile 5. Tough part is over."

Mile 5: 7:18

We push one another along until the hill. It's in all my marathon and half marathon reports: that darn bridge over the freeway. It rises just thirty feet but I try to cheer myself up as I stare at it: it feels exactly the same in a marathon or half. Let's see how it is in the 10K? It will be fun!

The bridge. Taken on a rainy hike in November. Return trip is from the top of the photo to bottom.

As I climb, I try not to slow down but WHAM! A WALL! In a 10K?!?! Is this for real? It's as if I'm running through knee-deep mud. Legs. Won't. Move. That's when the girl waiting in the shadows behind me makes her move. She springs into action and bounds over the bridge like a frolicking bambi.

I catch up to my racing buddy again for a moment. Then he turns to me and asks me to tell him when we're one half mile from the end. I reply with "here" right away and clearly that's the wrong thing to say to keep your racing friend because he kicks it up another notch, one I don't currently possess myself and I watch him pull away. I try to pick it up, gaining on him and the second place female but now they're dueling and I'm just trying to keep up. I get one last cheer from Yoon as he snaps my photo.

Mile 6: 7:13

I burst out from the forest and into the sunshine. The arch! It nears! I float over the smaller river bridge and make the final turn just in time to spot the finish clock. Knowing my time is pretty close to gun time, I know I have to hustle. The sting of running a 3:30:01 at Boston still fresh in my mind, I'm determined to make it before the minute ticks by. I'm not having that again!

44:40....:41.....:42.... Augh!!! Pain!! Legs!!! Death!!!

Mile 6-finish: 1:31 (6:11/mi.)

Done!!!!

44:39
7:10/mi.
3rd lady, 1st F30-34

A new PR by almost three minutes. Good job legs! I introduce myself to my racing buddy. His name is Cameron and he's a local too. He'd later ask to be my Strava buddy.

I take a quick cool down, change clothes, and then head back to work. Stuffing my face while manning the t-shirt tent isn't as satisfying as it is when I've just completed the marathon, but the new PR has me smiling the rest of the day.

Over the last few weeks, I've felt my summertime racing plans shift. This 10K has a lot to do with that decision. Maybe I need to scrap the triathlon idea and see what I can do with shorter distances this summer? For now, I'll let the thoughts marinate. I've got a five mile race next weekend to help me decide. :)

After Boston: Eating our way through Maine and New Hampshire

In an effort to make the most of our expensive and exhausting flights east, we once again took a few days to explore before we headed home. Since our trip to Maine last time was so heavily clouded with naps and boxes of tissues as we battled a cold, we decided to go there again.

This time, the weather wasn't so cooperative. Instead of sunshine and spring flowers, it was rainy and foggy. Nevertheless, we live on the perpetually foggy coast where it rains for six months straight. Instead of Maine feeling exotic, it felt like home. We settled right into the fabric of everyday and made our way up and down the coast, stopping to refuel every couple of hours with Dunkin Donuts coffee.

Our first stop was in Freeport. We decided that walking the day after a marathon was the best way to recover, so we hopped from outlet shop to outlet shop, stopping only for snacks. Both of us were bottomless pits on Tuesday, it was kind of ridiculous. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to find a Dairy Queen to celebrate our finishes, but we did happen upon a cupcake place. We split this delicious raspberry chocolate cupcake and it was an acceptable substitute.

The next day, we meandered up the coast, deciding we would check out something that's not common on our foggy coast: lighthouses. I don't remember the name of this one or where it was, but damn, it was about the windiest and coldest place I've ever experienced in just a light fleece and raincoat.

We speed hiked (a relative term given the state of our legs, especially Matt, who was still dragging his right one around behind him) out the trail to the lighthouse, climbed the steps, took a few photos and then quickly retreated to our car.

Instead of spending more time out in the wind, we found a place that served lobster rolls and enjoyed the views from the safe side of a large picture window. Gray spring days are always nicer this way.

That night, we dropped in on one of my favorite bloggers, Sadie. A kindred spirit, we spent the night enjoying dinner, a few ciders, and the company of my east coast friend and her beau. The next morning, she took us on one of her favorite hikes. We climbed to a lookout that promised views of Penobscot Bay and all the little coastal islands. That day though, while not rainy, was very foggy and the view was, um, gone. Then we took a wrong turn and added a couple of bonus miles. It was perfect though as we chatted about all things running, especially the mental trials of marathon training.

Thursday night, we holed up in a town that shares the same moniker as Matt's hometown. Once again, our host apologized for the unusual gloomy weather. We told them it was fine, then went on a hunt for coffee. That would turn out to be the key theme to our first week post-marathon: a constant imbibing of coffee.

On Friday morning, Matt's leg was feeling well enough to coax him out for a couple of miles.

We went for two miles along the waterfront and past some cute homes. Then we checked out of our hotel and headed south once again.

We stopped at one more lighthouse. This time it wasn't as miserable so we lingered a bit. Then we ate lunch at a tiny hole in the wall place that served $5 sandwiches. I didn't expect much given the low price, but it turned out to be on homemade whole wheat bread. Yum!

The last stop on our road trip was just across the border in New Hampshire. My high school friend Jill (different Jill from our last visit to Maine) teaches at the university there. We had dinner with Jill and her fiance and for a few hours, it felt like no time had passed and we were back at home in Michigan.

Saturday, the final morning of our trip, we ran a 5K with Jill. She had signed up well in advance and told us the course was pretty. That was an understatement. It took very little arm twisting to get us to join in. Despite being another foggy, gloomy day, the course was a gorgeous cross country run through the woods, over a few military bunkers, and through the sand next to splashing waves. We wore our Boston shirts in the same way that people wear the little heart sticker after giving blood: "Please be nice to me today, my legs are still broken from the marathon." I wish I had run with a camera because every little turn held another picturesque view. I've never had a 5K pass so quickly and pleasantly! And best of all, we got to say we "raced" in New Hampshire.

Our flight home that afternoon was a pleasant surprise too. We were upgraded to Economy Plus so we got extra leg room. And then as if the universe was cutting our tired selves a break, we experienced no delays and even touched down at our home airport thirty minutes ahead of schedule!