Grand Island 10K Results

Yeah! I did it! I accomplished my more humble, revised goal: I ran the trail race without stopping to walk. Despite sporadic training, I even ran up that insane hill! My memory twisted that hill in an odd way: imagining it as a very long, gradual hill. In fact, it was about a mile and a half and very steep. I passed some who walked the hill--esp a father and his daughter, a team that sped before me and then behind me and then next to me and finally behind me at the last part of that wicked hill.

The trail was more beautiful than I remembered--very thick forest on either side and branches that arched over the packed dirt and an occasional glimpse of the lake and the stone formations of Pictured Rocks, the surprise of the narrowing of the trail into a field of flowers and tall weeds and full sun and then back again into the pleasant coolness of the darker forest.



I spent the first mile reminding myself: hold back, hold back, hold back! As cliche as this is, I created a playlist on my Ipod that begins with Chariots of Fire--to both inspire me and to keep me running slower in the beginning of a race. So I ran to this the first few minutes of the race and let the faster runners rush by me in waves and did not allow the pull of their speed to lure me into a mistake that would take the energy I needed for that "gradual, 3 mile hill". After the first mile, I expected the trail to start elevating slightly but it stayed level, even dipped a few times--I was delighted. At mile 2, I realized I had exaggerated the length of the hill in my memory. I knew that by mile 4 the trail was a steady descent.

Around mile 2.5, though, I discovered that my memory had greatly softened the steepness of the hill.

Around this part of the race, the trail forks-- part of it continues straight and rather level and another part veers sharply to the left and up an incline as steep as stairs, full of rocks and branches. You would never believe or want to believe that this was the way to go . . . surely that straight away, that level packed ground is where to go. It must be for this reason that Grand Island race posts volunteers at this point to direct you to the left and, yes, up that impossibly steep incline.

At least I knew it would not last as long as I thought. Here is also where I gained on some that sped so fast at the beginning. The father and his daughter were two such. When I slowly but steadily ran past them, at about a 13 minute pace, the father smiled at me and called out "this hill doesn't end!" Must be his first time in this race, I thought, cause it ends not to far from here. Maybe that knowledge, that around mile 3.8 the hill would become an exhilarating and easy flight down, helped me keep up hope and my legs from slowing to a walk.

I loved the last two miles the most-- all down hill and at times, very steeply downhill, as steep as the uphill. I let gravity pull me without breaks and greatly picked up my pace, sprinting down along the hill's spiral towards the finish line.

I ended up with nearly the same results as last year: 1 hour and 14 minutes and a 12 minute pace. Not close to my original goal of a 10 minute pace--entirely my fault for getting so lazy this summer--but I was happy with this because it was the same result with much less training and I did what I set out to: finish the race without once stopping to walk.

Debbie, a friend from down state, did much better. She finished in about an hour and placed 5th in our age group; I placed 8th. We were giddy when we picked up the ticket w/these results and placement. I learned later that day that there were only 10 total in our age group. So, we came up with a plan for next year: train earlier, faster, and longer so that we could place in the top 3. There were only 10 last year, so we estimate that there will not be many again next year. The top 3 get a beautiful, green, handcrafted glass finishers medal. We plan to be in that top 3--with only 7 to beat, should not be that hard. The number one in our age group this year ran at a 7.4 pace, finishing at 47 and the third was a 9.5 pace finishing at 58. If we aim for 8.5, we should be firmly in one of the top 3 next year. A herculean goal for a marathon, but, with dedication, doable in a 10K--esp one with 2 miles of downhill to the end.


Debbie and I contemplated jumping in Lake Superior but sat on this sand hill just outside the finish line instead.
















We went to a few beaches and drank wine and Debbie helped me collect rocks to bring back and use to make more necklaces.





























































The view from our balcony was amazing.








Debbie shows me her signature "in front of an amazing view" pose on our balcony:
























I try to get the in-front-of-Grand-Island-view-pose right.














Heading out to the Dog Patch to gorge after the race.
















Carefully read the cartoon that hangs just inside the door to this family restaurant:















Only a yupper could combine innuendo and cows . . . only a yupper.

Trail Race

"Do not litter the trail with gel packets – they
attract bears" is the comforting advise given to runners in an email a few days before the race.

I hope my beach running last weekend counts for more than the measely 4 miles. I was so exhausted, but I am hoping one mile of running in lumpy sand is equivalent to two miles on the packed trail. I am the least prepared physically for this race than I have ever been for any race since I started running and I am, therefore, not very mentally prepared. I have not even run 6 miles since around the time of my half-marathon--about three months ago.

There is a gradual but long uphill to this run-- around 3 miles-at least half the race and last year I remember that I got up that hill without walking because I made sure I did a lot of six mile hill work at Pontiac Lake Trail. Ha!!! This year my longest run was barely five and that was during a thunderstorm and on the street.

I'm trying to tell myself right now that this just makes the race even more interesting--it'll show me what I have w/out much training. Arrrrgg. I hope that "mental toughness" my brother talks about just kicks in and mind leads legs to keep up. I'm going on my last run tonight at Heritage park. NO CAMERA--it'll be all running.

Humility and Bliss

So here is the humility part: forgive me legs for it has been very sporadic training at best for this upcoming trail race. Because of this sin of omission, here were my stats for tonight:
3.2 miles
average: 15 minute mile!!
best: 4.2
worst: 35 (stopped lots to take photos--hazard of running a beautiful trail)

Cristina says that the only thing worse than an Irish Catholic is an Italian Catholic.
I always remind her that we are both hamstrung by guilt and duty. So, I began this blog last year as a form of self flagellation, as a public confession, as a place to wear my Scarlet O (zero miles).

Even though I now wonder if I will even finish this trail race because of my gluttonous summer, much more so than last year where discipline and duty ruled, I am never more blissful about having found running than tonight and thinking about the joys of the trail. It helps that, unlike Tony, gnats, mosquitoes, flies, etc. do not find me in the least appealing. If they land on me at all, they tend to jump off right away as if tasting in my flesh some poison or at least nothing to nurture their need for blood. This helps my trail running bliss--meanwhile, poor Tony was running with me getting absolutely dive bombed by every flying and biting insect God created. As such, he looked a bit like a lunatic runner constantly jerking and swatting and waving his hands about his head and ears.

To Tony's credit, though, he seemed to enjoy the trail despite his hosts and, of course, he literally ran circles around me on the River Loop trail. The only time I managed to get in front of him was on the downhills. I love to just fly down those bounding off the ground. He has that road racer's initial fear of falling or killing yourself on a rock, root, branch, log, etc. Of course, the glory was more his as he would then beat me on the up hills! Best thing to do when you first start trail running is a carefully planned fall running down hill. Seriously, I am terrified beyond belief of bees. Why? Never got stung. I have, however, taken a few nose dives as I tried to fly unreservedly down a rather steep trail. Perhaps I am lucky--but I have not had any major injuries from this (construction holes, yes, the trail, no). Just scraped up and super bruised legs and arms and of course that beautiful mud caked look. I actually went to yoga one time right after I ran on a trail mucky from rain and wearing my running shorts only to notice my bruised and mud caked legs in warrior one pose. I swear the other polished yogis must have thought I was some homeless woman just back from a serious cat fight in a swamp where someone was batting on my legs with a heavy branch.

I have since made sure if I do yoga after running that I shower and change--seems a bit ridiculous as you get so sweaty and have to shower again--but, ah, well.

So tonight, we started around 8:00 and I quickly realized as we got deeper into the woods that my eyesight was needed more than my eyeballs, so I took off my trail sunglasses and propped them on my head. We ran the River Trail and the loop a few times and then came to the Estate trail and Tony stopped me. Two deer stomped the ground in front of us down the trail. Amazing sight. As we got closer, one of the deer hopped into the trees and disappeared while the doe stayed and even turned to face us. "It's the mom and I bet she shooed the fawn off the trail and will stay there to protect her. Maybe it's not such a good idea to go right up there."
"We have to get by here anyway," Tony said
As we got close and certainly close enough to pet this doe, we realized she was limping--broken back leg or something.
I ran to my car to get my camera and told Tony to stay with her--as if he could get her to understand-- "listen, I know it's a pain but just stay right here until Laura gets back to get a photo of you."
By the time I was coming back she was already gone. We had just about given up, when I saw another deer on one of the side trails--I told Tony to stop, and I turned my camera to night shot and got a million shots of this deer.



Tony got on the other side of the trail and made noises so the deer would look up while I took photos.








It was so amazing! After a while, she didn't even seem to mind-- almost seemed to be posing--turning her head this way and that--bend down to eat, chew slowly, dart her head up and to the side and straight on then dip down again and tear up some more leaves and continued to her late dinner. God I loved it. I walked a bit into the brush, and she still let me take photos.

Even though my stats are horrible, it was a truly awesome run. It reminded me why I run, and why I don't mind being a back of the pack runner (even though I will train more consistently and get faster). The last two weeks or so--actually, probably almost the last month--I have been super sporadic about running-- getting out to run maybe once or twice a week.

I stopped running consistently and about two weeks later guess what nasty little habit started to crop back? Yeah, smoked cigarettes. After my run tonight you could not pay me to smoke a single cigarette. I begin to want to smoke at nearly the two week mark of not running and then quit immediately upon returning. So odd--cause it's just not that conscious. So I wonder, do I smoke to replace the runner's high? In a few days of no nasty smoke in my body I will be faster from both the discipline of running consistently and the sludge getting out of my lungs.

Also, it seems that when I don't run I do stupid stuff in general and let my emotions get all crazy--I start to focus on the negative too. I wonder if that's why runners, in general, seem to all be pretty balanced and happy people--fun people to hang out with. You run with people but you can never run for people (you run for causes but you can't actually do the running itself for someone else, of course). When I run, I practice something that cannot be taken. Okay-- you might fracture a femur, fall in a construction pit, get bronchitis-- but that's the whims of fate. No person, unless they kidnap you and put you in leg irons, can make you stop running or take it away from you because no one gives it to you--doesn't come with a membership and payment due and nowadays doesn't even need to come with legs--all those articles in Runners World where they explain how the those who run with running prosthetics have an advantage over those who run on two legs.

So, I will carry on at the back of the pack or with Tony running loops around me and continue to love it because it is a joy no one can give or take.

I must now get through those first two miles without stopping-- at the beginning I always feel like I can't break that barrier but once I do, I am set to go--also that's when a bit of the dizzying chemical euphoria sets in.
It's so cool that our body responds to this general pain and depletion of energy with a surge of dopamine--so a few brief moments of pain give way to bliss. A microcosm for life.

My previous yoga teacher, Erin, used to put us in these ridiculously painful poses-- only because we were in them so long. Warrior Two for three songs can make your muscles shake your teeth out of your head.


So we'd be there grimacing through song after song as our thighs shook, and she would just smirk at us and tell us the most important part of the pose was to relax our faces and turn the corners of our mouths up slightly. Ha! But it's a good lesson to learn not to run to or from pain but to sit with it until the pleasure inevitably comes--that wonderful shivasinah that is all the more transcendent the harder the practice.

Now back to the raised Catholic in me. I used to really, really wonder why God would show his love for us all through the intense pain of himself and son. Why not an all powerful being whose symbol was joy instead of the ubiquitous cross of torture? Yoga helped me understand, if not theologically then just logically.
Our bliss is often polished on the whet stone of pain. Our character ground to such beautiful stuff by challenge and triumph. Without challenge (which is momentary pain) there would be nothing heroic in our lives and nothing to celebrate in ourselves. I wish what we wore from our necks and hang in our churches was not the cross--the symbol of a tortured, near naked, mask of pain Jesus--but rather an open, empty tomb-the triumph of his pain. I guess it would be hard to fashion such an icon. Oh my gosh. I just realized my next jewelry project!! How to create a necklace that depicts an empty tomb .
Ok before I start waxing philosophic about my toe nails, I'm just going to sign off with this-
Can't wait to run again!!! Also look forward to my TNR buddies for both the run and the post run, carb loading drinks-- very important for keeping those glycogen stores :)