Wednesday, August 11, 2010


I have no photo, but I wanted to tell you about the 5K I ran on July 31, the day my brother and his wife moved out of their house.

It did not go very well.

I am not a fast runner by any means, but I had been averaging just under 10-minute miles on my 3 mile runs. But on Wednesday, just a few days before my first race ever, I tweaked an old injury. I limped around for the next few days, skipping any running in an attempt to heal. On Friday night I did an hour of yoga and then soaked in a hot bath.

On Saturday morning, I picked my sister up and drove to the racecourse. My injury was tight, but it didn't actually hurt, so I was cautiously optimistic. The first mile went just fine, and I ran at my normal pace. But then my energy just dissipated and my injury started to hurt. Alyx, my sister, was so encouraging, and she kept giving me little pep talks. We walked a lot, at least 1/3 of the race, and my finish time was 43:19. My average pace was 13:59. Yikes!

I was really disappointed that a 5K kicked me that badly. I had been running 3 miles for weeks at that point, after all.

And then it became clear that I had a stomach bug.

I laid in bed all of Saturday and most of Sunday (the girls were with Grandma and Grandpa and Kevin was in Minneapolis with his buddies), clutching my stomach and trying to sleep. By the time my family returned on Sunday night, I was up and about again and had eaten a bowl of soup without suffering stabbing pains for hours afterward.

The lame thing is that, despite the fact that I had an injury and was coming down with the plague, I am still disappointed that I ran that badly.

Anyhow, the half marathon is screaming up on me and I am a little scared about what I've gotten myself into. On the one hand, I am glad that they allow 6 hours for the race, but on the other hand, if I am still out there at hour 6, someone please shoot me.

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