So I owe the Smurfs an apology.
I was a bitch. You didn't deserve my ire, and I'm sorry I so carelessly flicked it at you without concern. That was mean. I can be mean, but my tirade was maybe even a little meaner than usual for me, and it was also unnecessary.
Here are my excuses:
1. I didn't P.R. and I was feeling bitchy as a result and took it out on the Smurfs.
2. Clearly my daily dosage of Zoloft just isn't enough.
3. I have always had issues with Smurfs. They're so fucking happy and smiley and cute. I even thought this as a kid (and yes I am old enough to have watched the show as a kid). I wish I had caught the running Smurfs in a year in which they were not Smurfs but the running Superfriends. I actually liked the Superfriends.
4. I have jealousy issues. I really do want to be fast enough to hold a 7 minute pace while smothered in blue paint and wearing huge ass diapers as opposed to simply being able to barely hold a seven minute pace while smothered in sunscreen and wearing shorts and a bra.
5. FINAL EXCUSE: Look at my mug. I was in pain. Cut me some slack, Man.
Solobreak! The dude in the white is checking out my shit, too! Snicker.)
Okay. The Smurfs probably still hate my guts, but I just want all Smurfs to know that I am really sorry I made you the target of my excessive bitchiness. I would say I'm not usually a bitch, but that would be a lie, so I'll just keep it at sorry.
On to my race report in which bad karma came to bite me in the ass.
In case you hadn't figured it out, the bad karma of which I speak derives from my thoughtless and self-absorbed tirade against the Smurfs. Papa Smurf had a little chat on the side with Mama Mitochondrion and--poof!--on or about the 3-mile mark I bonked.
This race (the Brew Run) is 5.2 miles long. Who bonks in a race 5.2 miles long? Apparently me--at least when touched by Papa Smurf induced bad karma. I need to say up front that I rarely bonk in any race, let alone one so short. I always take a gel even before dinky little 5ks to insure that I have enough glucose to last me. I almost always race with a gel in my pocket in case I start to feel even slightly bonky. I'm just that kind of girl.
Not this time. Last week I spent on Cape Cod with my family and my in-laws. Saturday was our day to move out of our rented cottage, and because we had to be out of there mid-morning, we spent the afternoon waiting around in the sun for the race to begin at 4 pm. My junk was packed and smushed in the car, but I had left out a little beach/run bag which included my running shoes, shirt, bra, shorts, Garmin. But no gel. I forgot about the gel. We had lunch at noon, and I had a few slices of pizza. I figured the pizza would do. I didn't feel like trying to dig out a gel in the muck that was our stuffed van. And I didn't need one anyway... the race was what--35 minutes long? Whatever.
Oh, silly silly silly me. I had a decent warm up with Andy and then lined up just in front of the seven minute pace sign. I was ready to rock and roll. I looked for Andy, but couldn't find him. I knew Jordan (my daughter) was somewhere there too, with her Uncle Doug, waiting to begin her second ever road race, but I coudln't find her either.
Then we started. I took the first mile out in 6:30 because it was largely a down hill mile. The gentle hills began in mile 2, and I slowed to 6:50, which was my target pace. I was running along, feeling good when it hit. I suddenly felt empty and wobbly--and not just a little wobbly--I felt alotta wobbly. What WAS GOING ON? Well, okay. I didn't wonder what was going on. I knew as soon as it hit. My hands got shaky and I felt light-headed. I was crashing. I needed even just a smidgen of sugar. Gatorade would do the trick...
But then I got to the mile three water stop. There was only water. OF COURSE there was only water! The race was 5.2 miles long! Who needs Gatorade on a course that short? My pace immediately slowed further with this realization. I felt awful. I was shaky and empty. I didn't feel sick, I didn't feel tired. I simply felt weak-- so, so, so weak- and also stupid stupid stupid!
I kept running. What else could I do? This was a good test and a good reminder, I reasoned. Better I feel the ickiness of bonking in this little race than next week at Timberman, right? I had a few moments during which I contemplated just dropping out, but then I remembered that Jordan was running. What would she think of me if I quit? She certainly wasn't going to quit, I knew that. I fought as best I could and picked up my pace just slightly. The last half mile was slightly downhill--and that was such a huge gift. I held on, and finished in just over seven minute pace.
Oh well. I still finished 3rd in my AG (40-49), so that was good. I was the 23rd female. The last time I did this race I was 11th and finished two minutes faster. Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh again.
I saw Andy right at the finish. He finished in under 30 minutes and was 1st AG and 15th overall. That dude never ceases to amaze me. He trains like a quarter the time I train and then whips out a 5:45 pace. Doug and Jordan came in at exactly an hour. She was so proud and gleeful! Doug, apparently, had had to do quite a bit of cajoling to get her to the end. I think it was pretty tough--but she did it! Thank you, Doug! You are the best uncle ever. Jordan finished 2nd in her AG (8 and under).
We drove home last night and I felt pissy the whole way. I should have felt great. Jordan and Andy had both raced awesomely well, and shouldn't I be feeling super for them? Unfortunately, my self-absorption has no limits and I was still feeling shitty. I had made enemies with Maine runners by running my blog mouth and I had bonked big time in a short, short race. To make matters worse, Andy was driving home separately because we had two cars and I was with the kids, and they begged the whole ride to listen to Kiss 108.
The next morning all was well again, though. I hopped onto my faithful steed (mare?) Mrs. Z and we made up for yesterday's poor showing by hauling ass all over Westwood and Dover. I then ran a T run faster than I had run the race yesterday. So there.
And today we went on a trip to visit... our new puppy! We get her ( a little yellow female lab) in four weeks. We are getting a male Boston Terrier pup the same weekend. they are going to be best friends. I absolutely can't wait.