Fat Brackets

Today I went for a run. It was terrible. I honestly think that the stress of my job is wearing on me hard enough to affect my runs. Today, my boss might as well have been actually riding me during my run. Figuratively, he's already there.

Regardless of how my run went today I will be doing the half marathon. I will not, however, be doing the Richmond marathon in November. I need a slight, to very long break from races longer than... well, the distance to the fridge.

I must also admit that I am a bit incensed with a a certain aspect of races which has aided in my decision to skip the November race.

This certain aspect is known as the age bracket.

Most races show you your half way time, your finish time and your rank within your age bracket.

I get it... you're 85, you're running the half marathon and you want to be able to know how well you did within your grave, I mean age group. Well, listen here, Myrtle... you 1) Should not be up this late 2) Have obviously had more experience than I have 3) Will STILL most likely kick my butt, happy?

WHY do races insist on doing age brackets? All of the other 24 year old ladies that are running this race are in their prime! Well, you know what, Age Bracket? I just started running, and I happen to be carrying a little junk. Alright? There I said it. I don't like age brackets because I think they should be replaced by fat brackets.

I am much slower than you because you are skinny. You try strapping on 40 pound cankle weights and then go running. Sound fun? Welcome to hell.

Any way... all I am asking for is to know how much faster I am than the people who weigh the same as me. I know I can't beat Susie Skinny-Jeans (its hyphenated so she didn't loose her identity when she got married) who has been training her whole life and is "naturally thin". I want to know how I did against Carrie Chunkamunk (she's of Eastern European heritage). Give me that ranking! I promise, I would do more races then!

You know what I hear when people say they are Naturally thin? "Unnaturally born from the womb of the dark lord himself." Yeah... you're the spawn of Satan if you have never had a weight issue. Tell me I am wrong. Go ahead....

I don't believe you. Lucifer teaches his offspring to lie.

For those of you who are not naturally skinny and have to try, but are still a size zero, I should admit here and now that I probably have a dimply leg up on you when it comes to races. You see, I have actually eaten the night before the race, and the night before that, thereby fueling me more effectively than the hot water and cucumber gorge fest YOU had the night before the race.

So to close, here is a list of reasons being a fat runner sucks

1) more wind resistance
2) additional friction
3) it's too embarrassing to be seen in running shorts, so I you can bet I am sweating to death wearing my 'sporty capris'
4) it's no where near Christmas, but yet you can't help but think the phrase "bowl full of jelly" when you see me

So give me fat brackets and make me feel better! I want to know how much faster I am than those who are actually my competition.

(Cue the dramatic bag pipes)

Give me weight brackets or give me body glide!


Fiber Baby

Right now I have taco baby. That's right. It's not a human fetus, no no no. Its a love child of another kind. One made of corn tortilla, grade something beef, cheese, lettuce and tomato. Glory of glory.

Don't get it twisted though, food babies are not all pleasant. Most are uncomfortable. They shorten your lung span, and most kick back. Hard. Like watching Avitar in 3D, these babies can also make you nauseous. The best way to avoid unwanted food babies is to abstain from stuffing yourself. No other method other than this is 100% affective.

As I am so obviously on the cusp of non-fetus baby research, I must tell you that there has been a new species spotted. This species similarly wreaks havoc on the body, but there is no glory to be had in the art of consumption. Much like getting pregnant from a toilet seat.

I have named this, the fiber baby.

No joke- I ate ONE fiber bar and I walked around the rest of the day with a waddle and my hand on the small of my back. I have never been so bloated in my life.

So take this warning- if it has more than 8 grams of fiber and is no bigger than an egg, don't do it. Its just not worth it.


The Ten Miler

The big one.

The killer race from Hades.

The whole reason I have been training.

Holy crap.

The day before the race I was a bucket of nerves. How could I run 4 more miles than I did last weekend when I almost had to be dragged over the finish line?

Man, this sounded like a really good idea 6 months ago.

I woke up to my alarm at 4:45am on race day, WIDE awake. This had been my plan, mind you. I figured since I hate morning runs I would wake up as early as possible to make the 7:45 as late in my day as I could. Brilliant? I thought so.

I woke up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, got my running gear on, and headed downstairs. All without waking the husband. I deserve and award.

I ended up doing everything you are not supposed to do on race day. I drank coffee, I had breakfast, I worked out. I am not even kidding you, I was drinking a glass of water and reading a running book about how you should not drink water right before the race. HA. I laugh in the face of convention. Not really, I actually got pretty nervous about the repercussions.

When Lauren and her friend Katie picked me up I was running around my cul-de-sac like a hamster on a wheel. I had already been on my bike and done several sun salutations. AHH! Total freak out mode.

I started to calm down while we were driving there because there was no turning back at that point. Unless I wanted to tuck and roll. And lets be honest, I would end up only messing up my face. The money maker if you will.

When Lauren, Katie and I got to the start line we had only moments before the race started. Some of us are nervous pee-ers. :) When the gun went off we stood there for a while since we were back with the 10 minute mile folks.

I know, I know... I should not have started there. I just wanted to be with the girls for the first part of the race. I was not about to start alone. I would have plenty of alone time during the race. Miles and miles of heavy breathing, leg aching, flubber rubbing loneliness.

Over the bridge and up the first hill I began to lose sight of them. Ohhhh well. I knew this race was for me to finish, not win. In fact, I don't think I will ever run a race with winning as the goal. Unless its a kids race, at which point I will rely of my length of stride and elbows to win.

At mile 4 I passed my guidance councilor from high school yelling out the gun time. I was right on track for an 11 minute mile. I could not have been happier.

Although my ultimate goal was to run the race and finish with breath in my lungs and a beating heart, I really wanted to finish between 2 hours and 2:15:00. 11 minute mile put me ahead of that goal, so overall, I was pleased.

At mile five I ended up walking a bit. And by a bit I really mean it. I only walked for 30 seconds my first stint and after that, only accumulated about 5 minutes of walk time. Go fat girl, go fat girl, GO! :)

Speaking of fat girls... I was expecting to be surrounded by all skinny ho bags and jerks, but there were a few people who were my size. WOOT WOOT! Not all of us chubbers are lazy Cheetos eating sloths. Represent!

The worst part of the race was running down West Main. I seriously felt alone. There was one man that I was keeping pace with, but other than him I did not see many people. I don't know if that was because my vision was becoming tunneled or if I was truly alone. Either way, it was rough.

The bright point was when we were coming back up the corner, passing the chapel, crossing the bridge on McCormick and finally seeing my 'old faithful' course. This was where I hit my stride and starting going a little too fast for my own good, but I did not care.

'Old faithful' was the course that Lauren and I started running way back in October of last year. Unbeknownst to us, it was the first 2 miles and the last mile of the 10 miler. That meant, our finish line for the runs were were doing, was going to be our finish line for the 10 miler. Holy crap, it worked out perfectly.

I knew the last hill and I knew the last bridge, and then I saw it. Unlike the 10k, I could actually see the finish line.

As I was running towards it, I started to get super emotional. There were a ton of people cheering and hanging out. I saw my 'running coach', Jen, and that's when it started. I passed her and I engaged the gazelle. I gazelled the mess out of that finish line.

My gazelle is just super long strides that carry me uber fast. Its my modified sprint. Its ridiculous looking but highly effective.

When I crossed the finish line I saw my family and I just started crying. LAME. I know... but I was just so happy. My husband had even brought me flowers! It was amazing. I had run the 10 miler, only had 5 minutes of walking , had very few doubts along the way, got flowers at the end and had finished in 1:53:07.

But in true ten miler tribulation form, I had a close family friend tell me that she too had trained and run a ten miler, and just didn't feel like it was worth it. Really??? Whatever. It was totally worth it to me.

I just hope the half-marathon follows the pattern of the 10 miler and NOT the 10k.

Well, off to do my long run. :)

Fat Brackets and Fiber Babies
Crystal and Steve's engagement session