The Midnight 5K

Running has been one continuous learning experience.  What I learned during the Midnight 5K is that Ryan has the smallest bladder in the history of bladders.

When the midnight 5K rolled around, Ryan and Heather had been running together about a month.  I had not joined them on very many runs yet because it was easier for me to run while Cru was in school, and they ran early in the morning.  By the end of May, school was out, and I had started to join them for the morning runs.  Still, the Midnight 5K was one of our first times running all three of us together.  We were still figuring out our pace.  And getting used to talking while we ran.  I had discovered that this was a problem for me.  I found that I couldn't breathe if I was talking while running.  As the weight started to come off, and I got more conditioned, I could finally talk and run at the same time.  But at the time of the 5K, I was still struggling.  So even though it was only a 5K, I was a little nervous.

We picked up our packets and still had an hour before the race.  So we headed to Dairy Queen and got smoothies. We dug through our swag bags and found our glow sticks and glow in the dark shirts.  (though I will say that we were not convinced that our shirts glowed until after we got home.  They certainly didn't show up at night).  They also had some glow mouth pieces that we put in for a picture, and then abandoned, because seriously?  Who is going to run with a mouth piece in?

The Midnight 5K was also my first timed race.  The Color Me Rad had been a "just for fun" race.  The run for Talen was just a small fund raising event.  It was exciting to line up at the start and wait for our turn to cross. As the race started we just tried to stay in the top half of the group. The race went great.  It was hard for my body to get used to the idea of running when normally I would be sleeping, but I felt like we kept a good pace.  It was an interesting people watching experience.  There were people there of all ages, including an 8 year old girl who kept pace with us clear until the end of the race.

And there was pink tank top lady.  I am assuming that pink tank top lady was using the 5K as speed training, because she kept running past us at a sprint, and then slowing to a walk, at which point we would pass her.  This happened over and over again.  All three of us noticed pink tank top lady, but we didn't talk about her until we finished the race. More on her later.

Ryan had to pee.  3.1 miles is not that far; but when you have to pee, it is an eternity.  And Ryan had to pee.  So she was pretty excited when we hit the half way mark and they had porta potties.  And I have to admit that I was happy to have a short break.  After Ryan emerged a new woman from the porta potty, we resumed our pace and finished strong.  As we ran, we tried to guess how many times we had passed pink tank top lady.  And we noticed that the last time we passed pink tank top lady, she did not come sprinting back.  Without ever talking about it, we had all been in competition with pink tank top lady.  She had been our motivation to keep going and keep up our pace.

We finished our race and enjoyed our after-race treats.  They also had pizza at the finish line, which totally grossed me out.  I may be crazy, but pizza is SO not what I wanted to eat after running.  Thankfully, they also had watermelon, which WAS what I wanted to eat after running.  We checked the race results.  We were just ahead of the half way mark for both our age group and in the overall results.  In our regular runs we were averaging about a 12 minute pace.  But at the 5K, we came in at under 11 minutes per mile.





























It was a great feeling, and it made me realize that I was capable of more than I had given myself credit for.  8 months after taking on the challenge to run a 5K, I had finally done it.  Yes, I had run that distance before, but there is nothing quite like the feeling on race day.  And I knew there would be many more races in my future!

5K for Talen

Before we moved, I signed up for a 5K that would happen in February.  I knew that if I didn't sign up for something, then I would not have the motivation to stay running.  This was a win-win opportunity, as the 5K was a fund-raiser.  Talen is the little boy of some friends of ours from when we were first married.  He was born with a condition that doctors have been unable to diagnose, and he is almost completely paralyzed.  His family has huge medical costs, as well as travel costs as they have taken him to various parts of the country for tests in an attempt to find a cause for his condition.  I was excited to be able to put my registration money to a good cause, and to have a reason to keep running, even through the chaos of the move.

This was the first 5K that I ran on my own.  I don't think I pushed myself as much as I should have, but part of the course went across a field filled with holes, and I didn't dare run it for fear of turning an ankle.  Still, I finished faster than I had for the Color Me Rad, coming in at about 40 minutes even.





































I had a wonderful cheering squad at the finish line.


























My kids gave me some high fives and fist bumps as I crossed, and it was fun to see them there.  I also think it's important that my kids have seen me through this process.  I am not quiet about how often I go running, or how far I have run.  It may seem boastful or egotistic, but I want them to see that I am doing something that is hard for me, and I am succeeding.  Even little successes are successes still.  Instead of having the mom who is becoming more and more overweight, they have the mom who is overweight, but working on it.  And I hope they get something out of that. 

I will NEVER run a marathon.

It is funny to me when I think of how many times I said those words.  "I will never run a marathon."  "I am not training for a marathon or anything, I am just running for fun."  "I think it's awesome that people can run marathons, but it's just not what I am looking to do."  etc. etc. etc.

Early in April, three things happened.  First, I stepped on a scale.  It may come as a surprise that I had been running for more than 6 months and had not stepped on a scale, but it's true.  I have already said, my intention was not to lose weight.  I was not in the habit of regularly weighing myself.  (it gets a little old when the number makes you want to cry).  One morning, I noted that my pants were fitting quite differently, and I decided that I should go ahead and try the scale.  To my surprise, I was down nearly 25 pounds!  Suddenly I had a concrete representation of all my hard work!  I was inspired.

Second, I was picking up Cru from preschool after a run, and my friend Heather approached me.  She and our friend Ryan had started running a couple of weeks before, and a little seed had been planted in Heather.  The little marathon seed.  But if she was going to go down that crazy road, she wasn't going down it alone.  So she took us down with her.  Down that road, I mean. When she first proposed the idea, I told her "no".  Straight up "no".  Not a chance.  Not going to happen.  I could never keep up with Ryan and Heather.  Neither of them had an ounce of fat on them, and they were both taller than me.  (I have always had a fear of running with people who are taller than I am).

Then, finally, the Boston Marathon happened. I, like everyone else, was horrified at the tragedy that was the bombing of the Boston Marathon finish line.  But in addition to the sadness at the loss of life, I felt another sense of loss.  I felt for those athletes who had trained and worked to qualify for the Boston.  And then trained and worked to prepare for it.  And then to have your celebration tainted by terror?  Or to have your finish taken from you altogether?  I was so sad for them!  After a couple of days of media coverage, the hero stories started to emerge.  Someone posted a slideshow of the signs of strength and hope in the wake of the Boston bombing.  This slideshow focused on the good things that happened that day...either before the bombing, or because of it.  It focused on the inspirational stories.  One particular photo struck me.

I was humbled.  How could I use my height as a reason for not committing to a marathon?  My pep talk to myself went a little something like this, "Seriously, Megan?  You don't want to run a marathon because it will be too hard?  Suck it up and do something hard, you dork!"

My birthday is at the end of April.  My birthday present to myself was registering for the October St. George Marathon. 

If you want to learn more about the two dwarfs who ran the Boston Marathon, read here and here.

Wake Up. Run. Be Awesome.

I have been thinking about starting this blog for about a month, now.  Pretty much ever since I decided to run the marathon.  The only reason I hadn't started it yet was because I wanted to think of a good title for it.  My main reason for wanting to start the blog is that I am talking the ear off of my poor husband...who is being very patient and kind about it, but is probably SUPER sick of hearing about running.  (nice run-on sentence, eh?)  I feel like I need to share my thoughts and feelings about this whole physical and emotional process, and it's just not fair to him to make him listen to it all the time.  So that's what I will use this blog for.  I will have a more in-depth "how I got here" kind of post soon.  But for now, I will leave you with the story behind the title of this blog. 

Earlier this week I played volleyball for a couple of hours.  I had not played volleyball in years.  I felt great and had a great time, but the next morning, my right knee was hurting something fierce.  I worried that it would mean I had to give up my long run on Saturday.  Thankfully, Friday was my rest day, so I was able to give my knee some relief, but it still hurt all day long.  Then last night (Friday) I was up late attending an anniversary reception and didn't get home and settled in until midnight.  Also, Rick and the boys were gone on the Fathers and Sons campout, and he would not be home to watch the girls.  Those three factors together had me debating whether or not I would run this morning.  But last night, I decided that I would start my run, and then just run as far as I was feeling strong.  (I talked to Hannah about the possibility of my being on my run still when she and Kate got up, and she was fine with that.  She's so big now!)  So I set my alarm on my phone.  I titled the alarm "Wake up. Run. Be Awesome." 

When the alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, I again debated whether or not I should run.  Then I looked at my phone, saw the alarm title, and got out of bed.  Apparently I am highly motivated by the idea of being awesome.  ;)  I ran 7.17 miles this morning, my longest run yet.  I kept my standard long run pace of about 12 and a half minutes (which I will have to improve by the marathon), but I ran the whole thing (except for when I stopped and took a picture of the hot air balloons, and when I got a drink at the park at my half way point). I was proud of myself, and I'm feeling great.  As I was cooling down after my run, I thought about my alarm again.  And it occurred to me that it was the perfect title for this blog.  Wake up. Run. Be awesome.  I know that 7.17 miles is peanuts compared to a lot of people, but for me, it's awesome.  And that makes me happy.