Run, Elise!

I've been swamped with assignments lately (last semester, woohoo!) but I have to steal a few minutes to post this.

The Indigenous Marathon Project selects a squad of 12 amateur runners each year, then gives them nine months of intensive training with the goal of running the Boston or New York Marathon. The IMP holds tryouts in every major city in Australia, and runners are judged not only for their athletic ability but also for their commitment to improving Indigenous health in their communities.

And out of a nationwide pool of over 100 applicants, my running buddy Elise made the cut.

Yeah, that's right. This goober is on the 2013 IMP squad!

Elise has done incredible things since we started C25K together last year, and her determination and encouragement have been nothing short of inspirational. I am so freaking proud I could cry! Aw, hell -- I DID cry a little when she told me she made the squad. I may even be tearing up a little right now.

You GO, Elise!

Run every mountain

This weekend, Elise and I headed to Orange for one of the most intimidating runs on our race calendar this year: The Great Volcanic Mountain Challenge, 11k of trail running, mostly uphill. It seemed like a good idea when we registered for it...what's wrong with me?!

But before I get to the recap - race nails!

Lava for the volcano, naturally.

We checked in at 8.30 the morning of the race, then spent the next half hour taking stupid photos and idly ignoring the stretching exercises the MC was calling out.

We were 24th and 25th to register. Remind me why we were so eager? 

Beauty. Poise. Class. 

When the call came to head to the starting point, we stayed well to the back of the 400+ field - we had no illusions about keeping up with most of the competitors, many of whom did this kind of race regularly and could crush boulders with their thighs.

If it's all this easy, we'll finish in like an hour!

The first few kilometers were on a wide dirt fire road, and the easiest part of the course. We alternately walked and jogged, occasionally pausing to take photos of the gorgeous views.

It's like a sweaty postcard.

That's where we're going!

Elise likes to point at stuff. 

And then the hard part started.

Stolen from here. 

See that huge spike on the running profile? YEAH. Mount Towac will haunt my freaking dreams, people.

By the time we hit the peak, my knee (still not back to full strength) was starting to wobble, but the thrill of making it this far was worth it. Only 4k left!

You can tell Elise is cooler than I am because she wears sunglasses. True story.

At this stage we were off the relatively smooth fire roads and hiking (we'd given up running long ago!) along narrow, uneven trails. And I won't lie - it was HARD.

Perhaps it was naive, but even after seeing the topographical map before the race, I'd expected at least a few semi-flat stretches along the side of the mountain, even if they were short and infrequent. No. That sucker was ALL up or down, and at about 2k from the finish, my knee started telling me in no uncertain terms that it was unhappy about this fact.

At 9.6k, participants were offered a choice by race organizers: turn left and finish in 600 meters, or turn right and finish in 1.4k. Without even looking at each other, Elise and I promptly answered, "Turn right." No way had we come this far to disqualify ourselves by not completing the course!

Another steep hill, and my knee was starting to give me serious problems. It was so fatigued that it was shaking uncontrollably every time I lifted or put weight on it. And then I got hungry.

REALLY hungry.

This was a problem because my body is stupid. When I get very hungry, I get very nauseated. Which makes no sense because when you need to eat the LAST thing your body should be trying to do is vomit up the few crumbs that might be clinging to your stomach walls, but that's what happens.

So I spent the last kilometer wobbling wildly with every step, swallowing back bile, and trying not to just break down in tears on the side of the trail. Elise kept prodding me along, encouraging and steadying me - she really is the best running buddy you could have! 

And then finally - FINALLY! - we saw the finish line flags. I hobbled over them 2 hours, 48 minutes and 52 seconds after we set out, number 368 out of 373 finishers (what happened to the 30+ non-finishers, I don't know - some may have turned left at the crossroads, others may have finished after the 3 hour limit).

The view from the finish line.

I didn't even care about my low placement - I was crazy proud that we'd finished at all, and finished within the time limit! (In case you're wondering, the fastest runner completed the course in a little under 48 minutes - I suspect witchcraft.)

Yeah. We're pretty much awesome.

Ex-best parent in the world

My girl Erica posted this today, leading me to remark, "I was the best parent in the world...until I had kids." Case in point:

Pre-baby
"Balanced, nutritous meals!"

Post-baby
"A whole bowl of white rice and nothing else, but he eats it without a fight? Great!"

Pre-baby
"Cloth diapers are the responsible choice!"

Post-baby
"Give me enough disposables to fill all the landfills!"

Pre-baby
"No TV before the age of two, and no more than 30 minutes a day after that!"

Post-baby
"You will pry the miraculous electronic babysitter that lets me cook dinner uninterrupted out of my cold, dead hands."

Pre-baby
"Educational wooden toys only!"

Post-baby
"Wood? Are you shitting me? Have you ever been hit in the head with a wooden train? Give me the plastic crap - at least when they use it as a weapon it won't split anyone's head open."

Pre-baby
"Only parents with ineffective strategies bribe."

Post-baby

"I will buy you a quad bike, three whole cakes and a pony if you will just put your pants on."

Any other ex-best parents out there?

Orange you glad we had a race today?

Today my running buddy Elise and I hit up the Orange Colour City Running Festival 5k. Although we ran The Color Run earlier this month, Orange was our first "official" race with timing chips and (woohoo!) medals.

Naturally I themed my nails: orange for the festival, complete with go faster racing stripes:

On Saturday we took a mini-roadtrip to Orange to drive the course so we knew what to expect the following day and to pick up our bibs - I was super excited to see my name printed across the bottom. It's the little things in life:

We were both a bit nervous that we'd arrive late in the morning or that the rain that had been pelting down all night had wiped Orange off the map (what? I didn't say they were rational fears) and therefore ended up waiting at the course for an hour and a half before the race started. Oops! Ah well, it gave us plenty of time to take dorky photos:

(Speaking of photos: why yes I HAVE become an Instagram whore, in case you couldn't tell from the sudden change of photo quality.)

And then suddenly it was our turn and the announcer was instructing us to self-seed. I had spent most of the last four days bedridden with the plague and knew I'd be walking some of the race, so I selected a nice leisurely group:

I powered through the first 2.5k, then hit the hills. I knew to expect them from our drive around the course the day before, and immediately slowed to a walk. Call me a wuss, but between my weak knee and plague-ridden lungs, I wasn't going to waste any energy by running my happy ass up a hill, especially when I wouldn't be going much faster than a good walk anyway. I alternately walked and ran the next 2k, slowing on any uphill sections of the course.

The course staff were awesome, constantly calling out encouragement to the runners, and just when I thought my knee couldnt take any more, I heard a staffer shouting that there were only 200 meters left, I dug in and raced toward the finish line as fast as I could.

My final time was a super slow 43:00, but I was pleased that even with as much as I walked, I finished in two minutes less than my self-seeded time. Not to mention the awesomeness of my very first medal!

Show me the color!

Last Sunday, I ran my very first 5k with my good buddy Elise - and not just any 5k. It was the Happiest 5k on the Planet!

On Saturday we drove down to Sydney, where we ate ridiculously fattening burgers and picked up our race packs. Check it out - my very first race bib!

I am totally going to make a scrapbook like this one (bottom of post).  

We lined up bright and early on Sunday morning with 20,000 of our closest friends:

The race was pretty much what I expected: lots of people, lots of fun, and LOTS of color! I learned to keep my mouth shut pretty fast after the first (blue) dye station - that is some seriously nasty tasting powdery shit.

The Olympic Park course was a bit odd - the dye stations are supposed to be stationed every kilometre or so, but there was a massive gap between the second (orange) and third (pink) station, probably because it was largely on a closed public road where they couldn't throw the dye. Ah well, what's a bit of inaccuracy - it's hardly the Boston Marathon, eh?

Like my sparkly nails? 

I wasn't able to run the whole thing - at about 3.5k, my knee (better, but still weak) started twinging badly, and I damn near cried when I told Elise I needed to walk the rest of the course. Probably sounds stupid since it's just a silly fun run that even young kids participate in, but the Color Run was my running goal for months and a big motivator to help me get back in my running shoes after my injury. But as Elise pointed out, I'd only been back running for a couple of weeks, and 3.5k is still a lot further than I'd have run six months ago!

And after we passed the fourth (yellow) station and crossed the finish line? We looked like this:

Elise is such a goober. I love her.

C'est moi. [Side note for those interested in Operation: Fatass: turns out that not exercising for 2.5 months while emotionally eating over a family member's prognosis really packs on the pounds. Who knew?!]

That huge face splotch was my revenge for Elise shoving a fistful of green dye up my nose. Four days later, it still looks like leprechaun snot every time I blow my nose. True story.

Good times, man. SUPER good times!

See you in the spring

Grandfather
Father
Husband
Friend

We miss you so much already.

Run Lisa, run!

Guess what I did today?

After more than two months of taping and strengthening exercises to fix my busted knee, yesterday my physiotherapist cleared me to start running again. So at 5.30 this morning, I hauled my ass out of bed and eased back into the groove with a half hour of walking and running intervals.

I won't lie - it was hard work. Although my knee is healed, the surrounding muscles are still pretty weak and it's going to take a while to completely rebuild its strength.

Still, I'm pretty chuffed since I registered ages ago for The Colour Run in Sydney next month and was worried that I'd have to skip it entirely - so even if I have to putter along instead of really running, it's still pretty awesome as far as I'm concerned!

Incidentally, I just realized that I never posted about the underlying cause of my Baker's cyst - turns out it was a maltracking kneecap, which is why it didn't show up on scans (which obviously require you to hold still, making everything look totally normal). I'm such a special snowflake!