Last January, my dad made a New Year’s resolution to run (at least) one 5K race each month.  He’s stuck to it diligently and I even got the fun of running with him in the Schenectady Strawberry Fest 5K back in June.  To get in his November race, he suggested that we run together in a race out here in Buffalo – if I felt up for it – when he and my mom visited two weekends ago.  I’m still getting out there, although it’s more of a run-walk for me, and I’m trying to get in a few more events before I hang up the running shoes for the duration of my pregnancy, so I was all in.  The race we chose was a new venture for both of us – our first cross-country 5K!

The race was held at Hoyt Lake, an area where I used to run regularly when I lived in the city (before creepers started targeting female runners – including a family member of mine – and I decided it wasn’t safe to run there anymore).  I was thrilled to get the chance to run there again.  It’s a beautiful park and I wish it was a safer place for women to run.  I knew I’d never have a better opportunity to run there than as part of a race group.  Plus, the idea of running a cross-country 5K, since it was something I’d never done before, was appealing.

We all lined up in the woods near the intersection of Lincoln Parkway and Rumsey Road.  That’s the start line, above – pretty low-key.  The gun fired and we took off running through the fallen leaves.

The course was set by flags.  If you saw a blue flag, you ran straight.  A red flag meant “look left” and a yellow flag meant “look right.”  The course was well-marked and we were always able to see the next flag ahead – although sometimes we had to look around for it before we spotted it.

Hoyt Lake boasts a pretty running path (again, wish it was safer, because it’s so nice there) but we didn’t use it.  Instead, we were running over grass and mulch, and through mud and leaves.  Occasionally we got to pound a gravel trail for a few feet and that felt like luxury.

There’s my dad running strong.  He looks a little mystified, though – he’s probably searching for the next course flag.

There were a few very steep hills on the course, including two beasts that we ran twice each.  (That’s one of them above, and trust me, it looks much more benign than it actually was.)  Dad is faster than me on a good day, but he very nicely stuck with my trudging pregnant pace.  We kept to a pretty tight regimen of four minutes running, one minute walking, but we walked up the tougher hills even if we were otherwise in a running interval.  Even the 4:1 ratio felt tough, and I’m thinking of scaling back to 3:1 for the Turkey Trot this week.  (I may or may not decide to do that.  The Turkey Trot is all on pavement and mostly downhill, so even though it’s almost two miles longer, it should be easier than the cross-country 5K was, with the wet, uneven ground and piles of leaves drifting around the course.  We’ll see how I feel on Trot day.)

I have seriously never been happier to see mile marker 2.  Mile 2!

Finally, at long last and after my slowest time ever, by a long shot (about 45 minutes – ouch!) we saw the finish line.  We ran through a little corral of parking cones, and we were done.  I have never been happier to finish a race.  Even my brutal day running the Biggest Loser Half Marathon at 11 weeks pregnant felt less strenuous.  (Again, pavement.  Oh, and ten fewer weeks of baby growth to lug around.)

Done, and pretty darn happy to not be running anymore!  We stuck around the finish line and chatted with some of the other runners who were milling about.  One lady had run the cross-country 5K as her first race ever!  Major props to her.  If this was my first race, I would have concluded that runners are nuts and I want nothing to do with this sport, ever again.  It was seriously that tough.

And yes, I did wear a “running for two” shirt so that it was perfectly clear to everyone why I was taking walking breaks and plodding along during my run intervals.  Can’t have people thinking I’m always this slow!  But honestly, as miserable as I was during the race, I was so happy that I was still out there doing events, even slowly, at 21 weeks pregnant.  When I was pregnant with Peanut, 21 weeks was the point at which I was placed on activity restrictions for the first time (the bed rest would come later).  This time around, I am lucky enough to have a clean bill of health from the 18 week anatomy scan (fingers crossed things continue to go well) and permission to keep running as long as it is comfortable and enjoyable for me.  I’m just happy to still be out there.

Have you ever done a cross-country 5K?  Did you think it was insanely hard, or am I just a wimp?

I’m a four-time half marathoner!  I’m still kind of in shock that I actually finished this race last weekend.  As you may have noticed by the fact that the marathon training posts disappeared, I have not been running as much as usual.  Between a lot of crime in my old neighborhood – which made me nervous about running there – plus moving, work deadlines, and being under the weather for awhile, I was just not able to train.  I knew that if I did line up for the Biggest Loser half marathon, it would be my slowest yet.  Still, I wanted to at least try.

I almost changed my mind on race morning, though, when I woke up to this forecast. Ewwwwwww.  But I decided to mom up and go for it anyway.  I dug through one of my partially unpacked boxes for a pair of capris that – hopefully – wouldn’t chafe, wrapped my iPhone in a plastic baggie, and steeled myself for 13.1 wet miles.

The start line was dreary with a few drizzles, but not too bad.  (It looks worse than it is because at this point I still had my phone in a plastic baggie and was attempting to take pictures through the plastic.)  You can’t see it because this picture is unfortunately so blurry, but up at the start, motivating the crowd, were Dan and Jackie Evans!  (They’re former Biggest Loser contestants, from Season 5, and they now travel around as the face of the Biggest Loser race series.  I knew they would be there, because they go to every race, but I was still super excited.)

Here I am all blurry and nervous at the start line.  I ran with my Camelbak to make sure I stayed hydrated – after the Fifty Yard Finish aid stations ran out of water I didn’t want to take any risks.  I figured that a huge, well-organized race series would have adequate supplies, especially one like the Biggest Loser race, which markets itself to people of all sorts of abilities and expects all paces, but still, better safe than sorry.

The race started out at Buffalo’s Canalside area and headed out along the waterfront to a turnaround just before mile 1.  It was breezy down by the water – but not raining.  After the waterfront, we headed up Delaware Avenue (uphill, the wrong way!) all the way to Delaware Park.  I ran for a little while with one of the pacers, but she wanted to chat while we ran and I couldn’t keep that up, so I dropped back.  I was disappointed that I couldn’t keep up with her, but I reminded myself that the only goal was to finish this race safely and let the pacer go.  At one point – around Gates Circle – a guy asked me if I thought we were coming to the turnaround soon.  I groaned, “Not even close.”  I ran these roads a lot over the past year and I knew just how far we were from the park, where the map had us turning around.  I saw him a few miles later and he grunted, “Good call on the not-even-close.”  I know, dude.  I know.

We did finally make it, though!  As has become my little tradition, I snapped a picture at the first mile marker past the halfway point.  Mile 7, my old friend, it’s great to see you!

We headed out of the park and back down Delaware Avenue.  I wasn’t too excited about this section, because (1) it’s hillier than you expect Delaware to be, going in that direction – it’s all supposed to be downhill, where are these uphills coming from?! and (2) I knew we were heading for a detour along Lincoln and Chapin Parkways before we settled into the Delaware downhill stretch to the finish line.  I started to really struggle, mentally, at this point.  I knew how far we were from the finish line and I just didn’t want to be there anymore.  I was tired, had fallen well behind the pace I usually keep, breathing was tough, and my hips were starting to ache.  I kept thinking about how nice it would be to just sit down on the side of the road and quit.  Finally, around mile 9, something had to give.  I was walking more than I was running and realized that I had already finished by this time in my last half marathon.  So I decided to run Galloway-style for the rest of the race: four minutes on, one minute off.  I had to run for those four minutes (no matter how slowly) and then I could walk.

The fancy houses on Rumsey, Lincoln and Chapin are always a nice distraction.  Eventually we made it back to Delaware and the road started sloping downhill.  Hurray!  It was basically just the last few miles of the Turkey Trot now (more or less) – I knew I could do that.  Galloway running was helping – I was staring at my phone’s clock half the time, but I was moving a lot faster once I started the 4:1 ratio, and feeling better (both physically and mentally) too.

Howdy, mile 10!  Just a 5K left now!

I fueled with cherry blossom Honey Stingers (my fuel of choice since the 2011 Cherry Blossom 10 Miler) around mile 7 and salted caramel GU (first time I’d tried this flavor of GU, and WOW was it delicious) just after mile 10.  At mile 11, a volunteer was handing out strawberry banana GU and I figured, why not?  It was pretty good, but not as good as the flavor I’d brought with me.

Before I knew it, I was following signs to the finish line!

Here we goooooooooo!  Finishing my fourth half marathon!  And yep, I totally high-fived Pam from Season 14 as I crossed the finish line.  That was pretty cool.

Hard-earned new bling.

Final time: 3:02:01.  I struggled with this race.  It was hard to keep any kind of a consistent pace, between not having been able to train and the humidity.  Breathing was a challenge and I definitely walked a lot more than I wanted to walk.  Still, I was glad that I got out there and finished it.  Not every race can be a PR, or even a good day.  I’m proud of myself for sticking with it and finishing, as hard as it was and as much as I really, really wanted to quit multiple times during the race.  13.1 miles is no joke!

Well, that was a different kind of experience!

This year, I finally got the chance to participate in The Color Run.  I’ve been wanting to do one of these 5K events – either The Color Run or Color Me Rad – for what felt like ages, and was so excited to see The Color Run come to Buffalo.  For those not acquainted with the concept, it’s basically an untimed 5K that you run while volunteers throw colored corn starch at you.  I realize that sounds nuts, but there are plenty of us out there who think it seems like a rocking good time.

The starting line was a whiteout.  Everyone wears white to the run, the better to show off their colors at the finish line.  I briefly considered wearing one of my white workout shirts but decided to wear the race shirt instead.  Normally I would never wear the race shirt to the race – I think it’s nerdy, bad luck, and you haven’t really earned the shirt until you cross the finish line – but this time I broke my usual rule because the white race shirt seemed intended as a color palette.  I wasn’t the only one – it seemed that at least 80% of the participants had the race tee on.  I was in good company.

We started out in waves every few minutes.  I left my watch at home, so I don’t know what time I finally crossed the start line, but the first part of the race took us along Buffalo’s beautiful waterfront area.  I enjoyed checking out the harbor and the boats, and at one point they had a giant bubble machine going, which was pretty hilarious.

At some point after a mile or so, I heard people start wondering aloud when the color would come up.  There was no color at the start line and we hadn’t hit a color station yet, so we were all still immaculate.  I had seen two of the color stations on my way to the start line, but didn’t know how much longer the course would wind around before it took us there.

We did finally make it into the color!  Blue was the first color station, and it was also where my spectators – hubby, Peanut and Nana – were waiting to see me run through.  I was so excited to be getting color that I ran through shouting “Woo-hooooooooo!” and ended up with blue teeth.  Live and learn.

After blue, we had a quick water stop and then made our way through yellow, purple, and pink.  For a little while, I ran with a sweet woman and her daughter-in-law.  The daughter-in-law was pregnant with her first baby, so we chatted about all things pregnancy and parenting.  I rarely talk to people during races, but this wasn’t really a race, I wasn’t looking to set any records, and it was impossible to run fast anyway – there were legions of walkers.

I lost my running buddies somewhere after the pink color and decided to head for the finish line instead of hanging around on the course any longer.  I spotted hubby and Peanut at the finish line before they saw me; hubby later told me they weren’t expecting me for another ten minutes or so.  I guess I was ready for the finish line party!

I’ve been attacked by a rainbow!

The Color Run was a fantastic experience.  I had so much fun taking my time around the course, chatting with other runners, and dancing through the color stations while the volunteers sprayed color at us all.  (There were a few “serious” runners who were complaining about all the walkers but I say, who cares?  There were no timing chips and this isn’t exactly the Olympic trials.  What does it matter if the walkers don’t stay to the right?  We’re all just out to have fun with this silly run.)

Peanut was adorably concerned about me after the run.  She couldn’t understand why Regular Mommy had turned into Rainbow Mommy and thought there must be something wrong with me.  As we walked back to the car she stared at me with a worried expression and kept reassuring me, “It’s okay, Mommy.  It’s okay.”  Even later that day, when I went to get her from her nap, she told me “It’s okay, Mommy got colorful.”  So cute.  I have a feeling she’s going to remember The Color Run… but maybe not quite as fondly as I do.

Final time: AWESOME.  Two blue thumbs up.

Have you ever done a color run?  Did you also forget to close your mouth and end up with blue teeth?

Wow – I can’t believe I’ve got my third half marathon in the books, and what a race it was!  I signed up for the 50 Yard Finish Half Marathon months ago and have been looking forward to crossing a finish line in the middle of a football stadium ever since.  And while this race was not without its hiccups, it was by far the coolest race experience I’ve ever had.

Starting with packet pickup, which was in the Buffalo Bills’ indoor training facility.  I drove out to Orchard Park on Friday evening after work to pick up my race bag and check out the scene.  I don’t know if it got busier, but it was fairly quiet while I was there, and I was able to breeze in and out in just a few minutes.

Race morning dawned hot and sunny, and hubby and I loaded Peanut into her car seat for an early morning drive to the stadium.  We were running late – of course, with a young toddler – and got to the stadium in just enough time for me to stroll up to the starting line.  Before I even had a chance to appreciate the fact that I was about to embark on my third 13.1, they started playing the Bills’ song (“Shout!”) and we were off.

We started out on the roads near the stadium but soon veered into more charming territory as we entered the Village of Orchard Park.

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Somewhere in the Village (this is not my home turf) I encountered these guys:

They were running the half while dribbling soccer balls.  A fun tribute to the World Cup and they were having a fantastic time… but obviously I couldn’t let them beat me.  I snapped a few pictures and pulled away.

More on-course entertainment, for me anyway: this sign advertising papillon puppies for sale!  This wouldn’t amuse everyone, but I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, thinking of Fancy Nancy and the Posh Puppy, one of Peanut’s favorite books, in which Fancy Nancy attempts to convince her family that they should get a papillon, because papillons are “so posh.”  As I ran by the sign I kept hearing Nancy’s voice in my head declaring, “My family will see how happy we’ll be with a papillon puppy.”

Shortly after considering adopting a papillon for myself, I broke into my fuel.  My strategy was to eat half of my Honey Stingers at mile 6 and the other half after mile 10, for a kick to the finish line.  I slurped while I ran and I’m sure I looked utterly graceless, but whatever.  The honey gave me a burst of energy for the long slog through the middle of the race.

As soon as I finished my snack, we approached the dreaded Chestnut Ridge Park.  (It was a little bit warmer than the last time I was there.)  I don’t know if I can really convey how much I was not looking forward to this part of the run.  The entire race already felt uphill – from the starting line onward, it felt as though we were just running straight uphill with occasional breaks to take three or four strides on flat ground before the incline picked up again.  I figured it probably couldn’t get any worse, but if the hills were going to kill me anywhere, it would be in Chestnut Ridge.

Then again, I also had a reason to want to be in Chestnut Ridge… because this face was waiting for me there!  Hubby and Peanut were parked just before mile 7, ready to cheer me on to the second half of the race.  I finally cruised up to the parking lot on Newton Road, hubby stuck his hand out for a high five, Peanut shouted “Mama!” and I was on my way.  Seeing those two gave me a big burst of energy.

Just after I lost sight of hubby and Peanut (they headed into the park to find a steep hill to hike up in preparation for an adventure we have planned for next weekend – details on that soon) I saw mile marker 7, which was almost as welcome a sight as their faces… because it meant I was officially past the halfway point.  And still feeling good.  I started to consider whether I’d be able to meet my ambitious goal of finishing in under 2 hours, 30 minutes.

I wasn’t wearing a Garmin and didn’t have much of a race strategy, other than to run the entire distance (except for water stops at the aid stations) at as consistent a pace as possible.  For awhile near the beginning of the race, I’d been running just behind the 2:20 pacer, but I’d long lost sight of him, which was fine.  I wanted to PR (my previous best half marathon time was 2:37:02) but, given the conditions – the hills and the heat – I would have been happy with any time under 2:40.  I know my normal pace, though, and I knew that I was doing well with my goal of running the entire distance, so I thought a time around 2:30 wasn’t completely out of the question.

We left the park and headed into open countryside.  I buckled in and distracted myself with the scenery, which was beautiful.  I needed the distraction, because I felt a blister starting to develop on one of my feet, and I was starting to chafe a little from the heat.  At mile 8 I grabbed a water and heard the aid station volunteers shouting to hold onto the cup – so, unsure why, I ran with a little plastic cup in my hand for the next two miles.  At mile 10 I realized what had happened – the aid station was out of cups and water.  I scooped a little bit of melted ice and asked the volunteers if mile 12 had water.  They informed me that that aid station had also run out of supplies, but more were on their way.  I said a silent prayer that the water would be there by the time I arrived, then let rage carry me through the next two miles.  (Permit me to vent for a moment?  I might be a mid-to-back-of-packer, but I paid just as much for the race as the guy who won, and running out of water does an inexcusable disservice to runners who have paid good money and have every right to expect the support they were promised.  Especially on a day like Saturday – I saw more than one ambulance on the course, and I ran by one runner who was stretched out on the grass being treated by EMTs.  I made the decision not to carry water with me, as did many other runners, because aid stations were promised every two miles.  There must be water.  To run out is poor planning on the best day and is downright dangerous on a hot, hilly course with little to no shade.  Okay, jumping off the soapbox.) In any event, it turned out okay.  By the time I arrived at mile 12, so had their fresh supplies, and I was able to grab two little cups of water to get me through the final mile and change.

Approaching the stadium, woo to the hooooooooo!  I have never been so excited to see a football field in my life.  We ran down the long drive, around the fieldhouse and…

Headed into the tunnel!  I could hear the finish line party up ahead, and I could see the turf.  I was so gosh darn excited.  As I ran through the tunnel I felt a burst of energy and I kicked up my speed to a full-on sprint.

But I still managed to capture a picture from the endzone as I ran to the finish line!  This was the coolest racing experience ever.  Bar none.

A volunteer hung a medal around my neck, I grabbed a bottle of water, and then staggered off to enjoy the finish line party with hubby and Peanut, who had seen my epic sprint through the finish line (and the embarrassing way I leapt in the air and screamed after crossing).

We chilled in the tent for awhile, then wandered around the endzone.  As cool as an experience as this was for me, I think it was even cooler for hubby.  He’s a life-long Bills fan and he compared the feeling of being out on the field to visiting the Sistine Chapel.  I said, “I don’t know it was as great as all that,” and he solemnly replied, “For me it was.”  I haven’t decided whether I’ll be running this again next year, but hubby will be at that finish line whether I’m crossing it or not.  He’s not missing the opportunity to wander around his favorite team’s field again.

I crossed the line at 2:35:18 by the clock.  I was pretty pleased with that time, given the hills and the heat – just to PR in those conditions felt like an accomplishment.  So you can imagine my surprise when I got word of my official chip time…

Final time 2:24:30.

Under 2:30 – and well under – and almost thirteen minutes shaved off of my last half marathon!  I knew the race had started late, but they must have started running the clock when we were supposed to begin – that’s the only way to account for the difference in my chip and gun times.  To not only beat my goal time, but smash it, on a hilly course in the baking sun… that feels good indeed.

How was your weekend?  Any races run or goals achieved?  Spill!

On Friday I had to travel to Albany for a work meeting.  Since my parents live in the area, I decided to use the opportunity to bring Peanut for a short visit to her grandparents – I dropped her off at their house on the way to the meeting, then we spent Friday night and Saturday morning there before heading back to Buffalo.  For a short visit I managed to cram a lot of fun in – aside from work, I was able to see my high school BFF twice; on Friday night for a ladies only tea date and on Saturday for a lunchtime playdate with our little ones.  And I also got to run a relatively impromptu race with my dad: when I told them that I’d be visiting in a couple of days, he suggested that I register for the Schenectady Strawberry Fest 5K, which he was planning to run.  I’m always up for a spontaneous 5K, so I signed up.

The race started and finished on Upper Union Street.  I’m sure I’ve been in this part of Schenectady before, but I don’t remember it.  It was a really cute area and there was a lovely looking tea shop that I’m now itching to go back and visit.  But anyway – to the business at hand.

We picked up our packets and then stood around for about fifteen minutes.  This was – I think – the smallest race I’ve ever done.  I only registered two days before the race and I had bib number 81.

With two minutes to go before gun time (told you it was a small race) we all meandered out through the finish line and milled about in the street.  Dad and I lined up close to the back of the pack, which put us in the unaccustomed position of passing bunches of runners early in the race.  That never happens to me.

To quote one of Peanut’s favorite expressions, “Ready, Freddie!”  Annnnnnnd, we were off.  Neither Dad nor I had looked at a course map so we had no idea what part of Schenectady we’d be touring.  Dad thought perhaps we’d get to run through Central Park, but instead we turned in the opposite direction and ran through some beautiful neighborhoods I’d never seen before.

I spent most of the run checking out the houses.  After all the time hubby and I have spent looking at houses (still in vain) I feel like I’m living and breathing real estate.  I was trying to work out housing values in my head and thinking about what I’d do with each house.  Not that we’re planning to live in Schenectady.  That would be a five hour commute to work.

We were a little confused about the mileage, starting early on in the race.  We spotted the 1.5 mile marker before the 1 mile marker, but then looped around and saw the 1.5 mile again on our second pass.  The 2 mile marker came up right around the appropriate point (neither of us had a Garmin on – my dad just has a regular watch, and my Garmin was dead – but we estimated that we had done about two miles, based on our pace).  Just about 100 feet later, though, we rounded a corner and saw Upper Union Street ahead.  “Something’s wrong,” I said.  “We’re not a mile from the finish line.”  We wondered aloud whether we’d be making another loop around the neighborhood, but the volunteers directed us onward.  As we rounded the corner onto Upper Union Street and saw the finish line just ahead, I shouted “Is this it?” and a volunteer called back that it was.  Confused, we sprinted through the finish line.

The clock read 22:10 or thereabouts.  Baffled, because we knew there was no way we had run 3.1 miles, we grabbed water bottles and sat down to scratch our heads some more.  Next to me, I heard two men saying that the course was short – only about 2.3 or 2.4 miles.  Dad and I frowned.  We both knew that we had been maintaining a strong pace and if we only had 0.7 miles or so to run to get to a full 5K, there was a good chance we could have broken 30 minutes.  I’ve never done that before, and I was really disappointed to have missed the chance because of a short course.

I have no idea what happened.  I knew that something was wrong, but I don’t know what.  I don’t believe we missed a turn anywhere, because the course was staffed with plenty of volunteers who were directing traffic, and I have to think they’d have told us if we were shorting the course.  And of course, there was plenty of talk at the finish line about the short course – so I know it wasn’t us.  I can only conclude that the race volunteers forgot to mark a part of the course that we were supposed to run.

I’m a little bummed about missing out on a PR – because I really think we would have broken 30 minutes; we were pushing hard on pace – and I hope the race works out the kinks next year.  (I don’t know if I’ll run it again, because this was sort of an impromptu thing, and I was only in town because I happened to have a meeting there.)  Really, though, I just did the run for fun and didn’t even know this race existed until two days before, so I can’t get too worked up.  One thing did come out of this race: a new goal.  As I told my dad, I’ve never had much interest in PRing in the 5K.  I prefer a moderate effort sustained over more miles (say, 13.1 or so) to an all-out 3.1 mile pukefest.  But after knowing that we had a real chance to finish in a time I would never have believed I could do, well, now I want to go for it.  I have so many longer races on the schedule for the summer and fall that I don’t think that 5K PR will be happening anytime soon.  But it’s on my radar, in any event.

What shenanigans did you get up to this weekend?  Any 5Ks-that-weren’t-really-5Ks? Any actual 5Ks?