Race Report: Des Moines Marathon

So, despite the fact that I was severely undertrained, ended up with horrible stomach cramps from the middle of the race onward, and had my worst finish time ever for a marathon, I feel like I can still report on the race itself. Unbiased? I'll try.

Expo/Registration Cost/Value: So, I registered late, and paid the max fee. But, even that fee was still comparable to BIG races regular fees. It was around $120/$125. The expo was perfect. Big enough to purchase last minute items that either don't travel well or that you forgot, but small enough to get in and out of in a hurry, if you like. We received a long-sleeve half zip performance top that was gender sized. Also received a Huma gel in the bag, which was a nice little bonus. Overall, the expo was great and I feel like the registration cost was definitely in line with other races.

Course: The first half was really hilly. The last half was pretty flat, with the exception of a massive hill around mile 24. Thanks Des Moines! I found myself thinking multiple times during the first 13 miles or so... why the hell are there so many hills? This is IOWA, for chrissakes.

One major plus to the course, though, is that the half marathon split from the full around mile 2 or 3. Which, I LOVED.

Highlight of the course: Around mile 8, you actually run onto the Drake University track and run a lap on it. It was very cool.

Around miles 9ish-13ish (it might have been later than this, I'm a little foggy on the exact miles), the course ran through a park. Which, you think... oh, that's nice. But, it was so humid out, there was a lot of mud along the path and wet puddles and everyone ended up with muddy calves and you are just kind of getting to the point in the race, where, the littlest annoyances turn into big fucking deals, so, yeah, I didn't like that. It wasn't just me... that was a general complaint with the other marathoners in our group.

Miles 20-26 were some of the weirdest miles. You start making your way back into Des Moines and so, your legs start thinking... Yesssssss almost done. But then your brain is like... easy, there, we still have to get in 6 more miles somehow. We ran past my hotel at mile 20. LITERALLY RAN PAST IT. I stopped in a porta john right after passing the hotel and was like, as soon as I get out of here, I'm taking off my bib and walking back the hotel. Somehow... I didn't do that, but I wished I had for the next 5.5 miles.

Those miles are the worst of the race. You do an out and back loop, you wind through some neighborhoods, you are just teasingly close to the finish that it annoys you. And then, THEN, you have to climb up what appears to be Mt. Whitney around mile 24.

This picture doesn't do it justice. This is like halfway up the hill.

Ugh.

And as I'm reviewing this before posting, I'm not entirely sure this is actually the 

Des Moines Statehouse, because the Des Moines Statehouse had a gold dome. 

Fuck it, you get the idea.

The Start and Finish lines are downtown, which is convenient. I can't really speak of the finish line festivities, because, by the time my weak ass finished, they were tearing everything down.

Support: Hands down the most well supported marathon I've ever done. They have tons of bike support, I never went a mile without seeing one. They were amazing. One of them gave me flat coke, one of them gave me 3 tums (which ended up screwing me up, in hindsight). Very well supported race.

General: A destination race? Nah. But, if you live in the area or need the state, it's a great race. Des Moines was a really fun town and the race was well managed.

My issues: I fully expected to have to run/jog the last 10 miles of the race. I did not expect to be in a state where I could barely even walk. I had the worst stomach cramps. I think, since it was humid at the start of the race, that I overcompensated at the first few water stops and ended up just getting water logged and a sour stomach. The tums didn't help the pain, but I do think, they kept me from being able to throw up (which is what I needed to feel better). I could barely even stand upright. All I wanted to do was lie down on the side of the road in the fetal position, my stomach hurt so bad. I stopped at every porta john after mile 17. I was absolutely miserable. I've never been so miserable at a race before. 

FINALLY at mile 25.5 I threw up. And I felt like an entirely new person. I was able to start running and ran pretty well to the finish. I feel kind of bad, because all the walkers who passed me the last few miles, I blew past them with a smile in that last half mile while running. But, HEY, I finally felt better!!!! And my legs felt absolutely fine.

At the end of the race, I was actually thrilled. I felt like if I could last through that much discomfort for that long, that I could honestly do anything. Apparently, I'm pretty tough. One of these days, I'd like to finally prove that I'm tough when it comes to pain of pushing hard, and not just the pain of my stomach revolting on me. ONE DAY. (2017 is going to be a good running year).

Anyway, that was Des Moines. SO FREAKING HAPPY that I actually finished and can cross Iowa off the list now. 15 states down!

Tips for Enjoying a Vacation at Elevation

 Drinking high gravity beer is a "Don't" not a "Do".

KoB DGAF.

(Ollllld Chub!)

So, for the 3rd year in a row now, The KoB and I have traveled to the absolutely beautiful and charming town of Leadville, CO.

Home of the Leadville 100 and the National Mining Museum.

Also the place in the US where climbing up a

set of stairs will leave you panting and doubled over for 3 minutes.

HELLO life at 10,200 feet!

So, for some, 10,200 feet of elevation might not be anything. But, for a Nashville/Sea-Level girl, it is a huge deal. The obvious thing is that the lack of oxygen renders you panting and gasping at the most ridiculous of things. Like... taking off a sports bra. It's sad. 

It's exhausting.

But, after my 3rd year in a row, I've come up with a few tips on making the elevation a little less troublesome and less noticeable.

Running/Endurance stuff: So, every year, I get out to the Mineral Belt Trail (an awesome 11+ mile loop around the city) and think, okay, I'm just going to run slow and it will be fine. And then I start running and I have to stop to catch my breath after about 90 seconds. SERIOUSLY. It's humbling and annoying. But, I've found, that if I just give myself those breaks and start and stop and walk, after about 25-30 minutes, I find my pace and I'm able to keep running (even on the uphills). I think it just takes my body more time to understand what the hell is happening and adjust. So, give yourself a break and some time, and you'll be fine.

Headaches: The lack of oxygen can give me a wicked headache. So, from the moment the plane touches down in Denver, until I get on the plane going home, I take a dose of Excedrin every 8 hours. It keeps the headaches away.

Bloat: Along with the Excedrin, I take Gas-X pills the same way. It is crazy how bloated I get and I'm not entirely sure how elevation=bloat. But, it's seriously painful and none of my pants fit unless I'm keeping it all under control with the Gas-X. Trust me, it's a life saver. 

Hydrate: So, I try to make sure I'm staying extra hydrated (this is probably more because Colorado is so much drier than I'm used to). And by the same token, I think it's best to stay away from alcohol as much as possible. Did I do that? Nope. But, the elevation definitely makes a hangover about 13X worse.

 

Highly recommend this local brewery.

Probably should only have one or two if you want to 

feel your best. Do as I say, not as I do.

Because drinking 4 Brown Ales in one sitting wasn't smart.

 Sleep: I haven't quite mastered this one yet. And I find that the mornings are extra hard for me at elevation. Normally, I pop up and am ready to go in the mornings, but I'm always more groggy and still feel tired when I wake up in Leadville. Probably because I don't sleep as well there. But, if anyone has any good sleeping at elevation tips, I'd love to hear them!

Anyway, it's not groundbreaking stuff, but, it's not something I ever considered before my first trip out there, so, maybe it will help someone!

Trip pics and re-caps to come!

Gratuitous Pics and then Actual Running Talk...

So, last week, I spent 4 days with the KoB and Leo at the KoB's river house. It was wonderful.

 I finally caught a fish!

Leo actually jumped in the water and figured out that he knew how to swim!

And he swam ashore, while we were still in the boat in the water.

He took off at a dead sprint. AWAY from us in the water.

Not possible to be mad at that face, though.

We also worked on a puzzle for about a zillion hours.

 

 The KoB's brother caught a massive fish!

No rules against posting pics of the KoB's brother!

Yet, at least.

The KoB with one of his MANY fish.

Hmph.

 

And lest you think we just sat around, fishing all day, putting together puzzles, watching The Wire, drinking coffee and beer, we also ran some. (But mostly we just did that other stuff).

Awesome views for running.

One day as we were running along a dirt road with rows and rows of corn on either side I kept thinking... hey... this should feel awesome. But it didn't. It felt like DEATH. It was hot and sticky, sure... but my legs felt like shit, my body felt like shit and then I realized... Uhhh... all I've had to drink for the past 3 days is coffee and beer. So, I started drinking a little more gatorade over the course of the weekend.

But, this is an ongoing issue. Today I woke up feeling like I had just gone out on a bender the night before. I was groggy with a hangover headache.  I couldn't figure it out. Until I realized I was probably dehydrated. I had only drank coffee and one beer the day before. WTF? I gotta get back to drinking more water. It's one of those things that I just don't ever really think about. UGH. I kinda hate drinking water. The water bottle I bought after the whole BPA scare leaks all over me. And I prefer the taste of water out of plastic... like, my favorite is to refill a powerade bottle with water and drink that. But then I feel kinda ghetto carrying around an old powerade bottle. 

ANYWAY... anyone have any good tips on making sure they're getting enough water to drink? At this point, even one glass a day would probably help.

Race Report: Ann Arbor Marathon

I knew that this race wasn't going to be pretty. Since Eugene, the longest run I'd done was about 11 miles. GOODBYE ENDURANCE. But, the most important thing, was that I'd be crossing a state off the list: Michigan.

Boom! Michigan was the 11th State.

Obvi, States completed are in pink.

I was too lazy to make a map legend.

My main objective was to just run and not die. That's a race strategy that I used to be very familiar with. Old Amy wouldn't have been nervous at all. I wouldn't have cared if it got hard and I had to stop and walk, etc. New Amy didn't want to spend a zillion hours out on the course.

After an evening of watching about 15 episodes of the most ridiculous show on television (Mountain Men),  I woke up feeling pretty good and ready to jog a marathon.

The KoB and I got to the race about an hour early and basically pulled right up to the start line. (NOTE TO RACE DIRECTORS: I don't care how close I get to park to the start line. I wanna be parked close to the FINISH LINE). About 10 minutes before the race started, we ran into Coach and Cheryl. 

Bitches Pre-Race. Smug, awesome, etc...

The race started a little late (NOTE TO RACE DIRECTORS: START THE DAMN THING ON TIME). Initially, I felt like shit. I missed the first mile marker and by the time I got to the 2 mile marker I was pretty much in the 4 hour pace group. That was a problem for me. I was comfortable with running their pace, but I was decidedly uncomfortable with their mindless, non-stop chatter. 

I just don't get it. Maybe I'm a total asshole, but when I'm running a marathon, the last thing I want to do is hear everyone's life story. I don't give two shits where you're from, how many marathons you've ran and a I certainly don't give a rat's ass about how many 22 milers you ran in preparation. I am obviously in the minority though, because the other people in that pace group seemed to be loving it. Particularly in the first few miles of a marathon, I'm all about zoning out, trying to settle into a pace and conserving energy. So, around mile 5, I started to pull away from the 4 hour pace group. 

My strategy was to try to run in between the 4 hour and the 3:55 pace group. And I did, for about a mile or so, but then I caught up to the 3:55 group and they were pretty quiet, so, I settled in. 

Here is the good from the day: This was the best, most comfortable, most awesome pace group I've ever ran with. The pace felt EASY, the pack was tight (which... normally I HATE, but I was loving it on Sunday), the pacer wasn't quizzing everyone on their marital status or their hometowns. He only spoke a little and when he did, it was to tell us our splits or to comment on the race course. I was really enjoying cruising along with them.

Around mile 7 or so, I started taking a cup of gatorade and a cup of water at every fluid station. I'd drink a little of both and then dump the remaining water on my head. The sun was starting to get a little hot for me. 

Everything was hunky dory until about mile 14/15. Around this time, some jackass who had been in the 4 hour pace group had caught up with our group and started chatting it up with the pacer. You know the type... loud, obnoxious, had ran 12 marathons the weekend before, so was just jogging this one and wanted to let everyone know that. He asked the pacer for his resume, only so that he could respond with his and I just started to get antsy and bitchy and decided to surge a little to get that dickwad out of earshot. 

My timing was terrible. This was a particularly sunny part of the race and a little hilly and my surge only lasted about a mile. I was getting HOT. I stopped at a fluid station and made sure I drank enough and slowed a little. By the split around mile 19, the clouds had rolled in and the sun wasn't beating down on me quite as much. BUT, my endurance was slipping. 

Around mile 20 I saw the KoB. We exchanged gestures to let each other know how we felt... 

His: Making a gun gesture with his fingers pointed at his temple.

Mine: head tilted to the side with my tongue out and my hand above me holding an imaginary noose.

GOOD TIMES.

I was walking/running and just generally over the marathon at that point. Around mile 21, I COULD SEE OUR HOTEL. Fuuuuck. If only I'd carried the room key with me. I kept going... around a mall.. trying to run more than walk. 

By the time we reached mile 25, I was like... Okay... practically done now. EXCEPT THERE WAS STILL AN OUT AND BACK LOOP UP A GODDAMN HILL. At mile 26.1 I saw The KoB and he started to run/hobble with me as I made it to the finish line. I ended up finishing with a time of 4:13. 

I grabbed a couple of slices of pizza and reveled in the gluten. Michigan done. AND NO SHIT STOPS!!!!!!

Please note: My beer is the ginormous one.

So big, in fact, that it wouldn't entirely fit in the picture.

In the end, none of us really had good races (although, I'm calling mine a success for hopefully figuring out my shit problems). You should click over to Coach's Blog and read her report. But, the post race festivities of drinking our asses off made it all worth it. Another state off the list.

(EVEN IF The KoB then missed our exit for the airport, then pulled into the wrong rental car company's return lot, then got stopped in security for a full bottle of gatorade. Amateur).

NYC Trip and Long Run Report

It's no secret that I love NYC. I mean LOVE IT. It's my favorite city and I was super excited to tag along with The KoB last week for his work trip. He was probably less excited... I mean, between the 2 weeks leading up to the trip and the actual trip with as much as I talked about OMG NYC, I am pretty sure he was OMG SICK-AS-HELL about hearing about NYC. Sorry.

Anyway, it was a short trip, but I still managed to fit in some of my favorite new york things: The Met and dinner at Blossom. I also ended up with a MUCH heavier suitcase on my way home thanks to some unexpected shopping. But, I couldn't help it... there were DEALS everywhere. I'm making a note to travel to NYC this particular weekend every year to shop. Seriously, it was ridiculous.

 That's 2 sweaters, 2 button up shirts, 2 pairs of pants and 2 dresses.

Grand total? $170. BOOM, BITCHES.

(best deal: $128 wool pants for $12!).

I win.

I also got to do something I've never done in NYC: Run in Central Park. I've never really stayed close enough to the park, so I usually run along the river. This time, our hotel was about a mile away. It was a good mix of city running and park running.

Friday morning, The KoB and I got up and met our friend Jeff in the lobby of the hotel at 6:30am to get a run in. It was cold and dark, but it was so fun to run through the park and see daylight start to sprinkle over us. My favorite thing about running in the park so early: The no leash time. There were dogs everywhere and they were hilarious to watch. 

I made the group detour to run by this fountain.

This picture is from 2010.

Saturday morning, I expected the same type of run. We met in the lobby again (this time at 7:30am, thank god) and I expected to get another 7-8 miles in. My long run for the week was supposed to be a 15 miler at a specific pace and I had just planned on doing it at home on Sunday morning. 

After we ran a loop in the park, Jeff asked if I just wanted to go ahead and get my long run done that morning. I didn't really think much about it and I just kinda rattled off a.. "yeah, sure." So, we started the 6 mile loop for a second time. By the time we had passed the reservoir I started to realize that I was supposed to run my long run at a specific pace and I wasn't wearing a watch and had no idea what pace were running.

Also, I realized that it was one of 3 last long runs left before the race and that I hadn't practiced fueling during any of my runs yet. And I couldn't get that thought out of my head... Last 3 long runs. Only 3 long runs left! OMFG there are only 3 more long runs and THIS IS NOW TURNING INTO ONE OF THEM. I started to freak the fuck out. Now, you may think, if you only know me from the blog, that my freak out would entail some sort of screaming and crying and flopping down on the ground and rolling around while I bang my fists on the ground. Surprisingly, that is not the case. My running freak outs mean I get VERY QUIET (very unusual for me) and I start expending a ton of energy in a fierce scowl.

But, what could I do? We were past the point of return. So, I just continued with the scowling and the freaking out and I guess The KoB must have thought that I had died or something with my silence for 2-3 miles straight, because he asked me how I was. And I kinda rattled off that I had realized that I was supposed to be running my long run at a specific pace, blah blah blah, whiny bitch, blah blah.

And by the time we finished, I had ended up with 14 miles (my fault I was a mile short, because I started heading back the hotel as quick as I could. I didn't know what the time was or what the mileage was and I was still hell-bent on getting my 15 miles in the next day on my own) at about the perfect pace.

It's funny how suddenly not feeling in control can totally fuck you up. In the end, it all worked out perfectly. I got my long run done in my favorite city and I'll just practice my fueling on the last long runs. But, in the moment, I was certain that that run in the park was going to be the DEATH of my Marathon goals. I can be such a drama queen, I swear.

Despite the freaking out, I still really enjoyed the run (except for the hills and the headwind that accompanied us on those hills). Running in Central Park was super fun and it was even more fun sharing it with the KoB and our friend Jeff. Good times.

 I scowl when I'm freaking out on a run.

The KoB scowls when he has to pose for a picture.

Race Report: Tucson Half Marathon

This is the story of how I voluntarily got my picture taken at the end of a race with a goofy ass grin plastered on my face.

1 minute earlier I was puking at the finish line.

30 seconds earlier I was frantically scrolling through my watch...

***SPOILER ALERT***

 I FUCKING PRed!!!!!!!

I KNOW.

YES, I realize that not 6 months ago I was boohooing all over the interwebz about how I'll never just randomly PR a race, etc. Obviously, I was just full of shit and excuses. Because, apparently, I can just pull a PR out of my ass*.

Ok, let's back up. 

So, the KoB and I were in Tucson last weekend and of course there was a Marathon and Half Marathon the same weekend. Whenever the KoB travels... there's always a marathon. TRUST. He ran the full (fuckingshowoff) and I ran the half.

My plan was to run the race as a tempo run. The idea of running 13.1 miles anywhere in the vicinity of 8:00 miles was ludicrous. LUDICROUS. Particularly with no taper and no speedwork near the 8:00 mile mark. I know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but I had no thoughts of a PR. I wasn't even entertaining the idea of running a sub 1:50.

The race is a point-to-point. Which meant that we had to get up at the ass crack o' dawn (3:15am!!!!!!) to get bussed to the start line and then sit there and wait for 2 hours. Awesome. It was also like 35 degrees. I dropped The KoB off at his bus stop and then I continued to mine. For the next two hours I huddled under a heater with a bunch of other runners and tried to avoid any lengthy conversations (chatty runner pre-race talk makes me nervous. Also, I'm a bitch.). It was dark and cold and I had decided that I wasn't even going to worry about the tempo miles till the last half of the race. I just wasn't feeling it. Cold Amy=Cranky Unmotivated Amy.

By the time the race started, my legs were FROZEN. 

Nice of them to take my picture next to the cow crossing sign.

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY MARATHONFOTO?????

Which meant, I ran a little faster than I had figured I would.

But, not that fast.

It was around this time, though, that I noticed that I wasn't breathing hard AT ALL. Hmm... that's weird, I thought.

Kinda interesting.

I felt amazingly good and the pace I was running felt CRAZY easy. So, I thought... well, maybe I can pick it up a little. And when I got to mile 7, I decided that for the rest of the race, my goal was to run a 7:XX split. 

Make way for the RUN BITCH, you sonsabitches.

And then, after 7 glorious miles of easyness... it started to get a little harder. Around mile 8 I felt my breath start to get labored. But, I didn't let myself freak out. It was supposed to be a tempo pace run, so I'm supposed to be a little out of breath.

I have no fucking idea where this shit came from.

Around mile 10, I did the math in my head and I realized that I MIGHT have a chance to PR and I was like.... HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLS!

 Come on ride the train, and ride it... 

Come on ride the train, and ride it...

It's a choo choo train.

(WTF else could I be doing)?

All I could think about was splits and math and OH MY GOD, I HAVE TO KEEP RUNNING FAST. I MIGHT PR!

 And then, we hit like the one fucking hill on the whole course. And to be honest, it wasn't even really a hill. But, good lord, it felt like Mt. Everest. 

Doesn't even show up on the elevation profile. Bitch.

Slowed me down a bit, though. Bitch.

At this point, I was in full Racing Amy Form. The heavy breathing and panting. The grunting like I'm going to die. The throat clearing. The whole bit. 

Fact: my pointy elbows are my skinniest body part.

Somehow though, I managed to run my fastest mile of the day.

And school one last bitch.

When I crossed the finish line, I immediately threw up. No dry heaves this time. REAL throw up. Gross. Luckily, it was just a couple of heaves and I was done and I immediately started messing with my watch. It just said 1:44 on it. I had to go in and figure out the seconds. (As you can see above it said 1:44:08).

AND I REALIZED THAT I HAD PRed! (Turns out, I actually had a chip time of 1:44:04). A PR of 36 seconds. BOOM BITCHES!

Unfuckingbelievable. There is no way I thought I would be able to run that fast and to run that much of a negative split! It was just the perfect day (and of course I immediately started thinking... well, what if I had ran faster for the first 4 miles???!?!?!?!?). 

And when The KoB finished, I could BARELY CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT. YAY! SOMEONE TO TALK TO ABOUT MY PR! BUT, he stood around in the finishers chute with some friends and I patiently waited outside the chute until I couldn't take it any more and crashed the party. I tried not to look like a total freak and be totally chill about my PR, etc. I was waiting to get the KoB alone to make a huge dramatic announcement about how my "tempo run" turned into a PR. But, they were all chatting and I as much as I wanted to just yank him away, I stood there politely and got introduced and asked them how they did. Small talk, small talk, dying, dying... But, then one of them asked me... how'd you do? 

I FUCKING PRed!!!!!!!!!!!

And the KoB gave me a look like... What the hell, bitch? Why did you wait 5 minutes to say anything? (Actually, I think he said exactly that).

Not to worry, KoB, you'll hear about it PLENTY. 

And that's the story of how I pulled a PR out of my ass and let a photographer take my pic with a goofy ass grin.

The end.

Epilogue: Uhhh... Tucson Full Marathon... there's a good chance you'll see me next year.

*To be fair, I HAVE been training hard for the past 13 weeks. So, it's not like the PR was totally pulled out of my ass... Still... was a total shock to me.

Hurricane Run

This post may seem in bad taste, as my experience with Hurricane Sandy was a pretty "cushy" one in comparison to millions of others. But, I want to say that I mean no harm and am not a cold, heartless bitch (well, at least when it comes to my favorite city, NYC. The jury is still out otherwise). If you haven't done so already and can spare anything, please consider donating to a local charity in an area that was affected by Hurricane Sandy. Need some ideas?

Food Bank for NYC
Animal Care and Control of NYC
Tunnel to Towers Hurricane Sandy Relief for Staten Island

So, last weekend, I accompanied the KoB on what we thought was going to be a short trip to Boston. (So quick that I knew I wouldn't really have time to hang out with my BFF, Lauren. But, another trip just for that purpose will be planned soon. Promise). To be completely honest, I am like the worst person with the weather. I grew up in a family that never took cover during tornado warnings or stocked up on bread and milk before a predicted snowpocalypse. My mom, sweet as she is, is like the stoic evolutionist/survival of the fittest/we're only as strong as our weakest link leader of our family. Fall down and are bleeding and oh shit, is that a bone poking out of the skin? Nahhhh.. my mom would say... nothing a little peroxide can't fix. I mean, seriously. I never had a fever growing up. BECAUSE SHE WOULDN'T LET ME. Anyway... all this to say.. I have grown up to think that NOTHING can get me down. No sickness and surely no epic weather system. Hurricane/Smurricane. Weather forecasters always oversell that shit, right?

Uhh... except... they don't. I mean, 95% of the time, they do... but that 5% can be a real bitch. I had heard a little bit about Hurricane Sandy, but I completely wrote it off. A hurricane? No. That's not going to happen.

Anyway... our flight home got cancelled and so we were stuck in Boston for another day. Which, you think... ooooo fun... extra/bonus/vacation day. Except, no. Everything was closed, the satellite was out in the hotel (THE HORROR), and finally, after staring at the KoB for like 3 hours in our room, I dragged him out to walk around in the swirling winds and rain. I AM SUCH A FUN GIRLFRIEND. Full disclosure, we walked like a mile and then saw a cab and took it back to the hotel. PANSIES.

Anyway... let's back up. So, there was supposed to be a 5K that we were running on Monday morning, but in the expectation of the storm, it was cancelled. Yay! We can sleep in, etc. Uh... Wrong. We decided to run the race route anyway.

 

Dumbfucks.

Now, I've ran in monsoons, extreme heat, cold wind, snow, up mountains, down mountains, and everything in between. But, this was unlike anything I've ran in before.

As soon as we stepped outside, I was like... what the hell am I doing? It was windy and misty. And as we got further from the hotel, and closer to the water, it got windier and wetter. Finally we made it to some beach that the race was supposed to take place along and there was a causeway that went out onto the water and... yeah... WE RAN ACROSS IT. WTF? The wind was unbelievable and the water/mist/rain was pelting so hard that I thought the wind had picked up sand and was throwing it at us. I ran with one finger in my ear to protect it from the wind and water (Sorry, Mom! Total wuss move).

To make things MORE fun, the people we were following got LOST (I just assininely assumed that they were trying to run extra. But, WTF? Who runs extra mileage during a hurricane?), they eventually stopped and let us catch up and were all.. "have you seen that statute where we're supposed to turn?" YES YOU DUMBASS, IT WAS ABOUT 1.5 MILES BACK. So... we ended up running about 8 miles in a hurricane.

Survivors. (Still dumbfucks).

Trip: Lexington, KY

I've been to Lexington, KY two previous times in my life. Both times I ended up a crying, drunken mess at the end of the night. This time, I was hoping for a different outcome.

2009

No sleep for 24plus hours+LOTS of bourbon+No Food= Drunken, dancing alone Amy who then turns into drunken, bawling my eyes out alone on a park bench Amy. GOOD TIMES!

2010

Rinse and repeat. Subtract the dancing and the park bench

and Add crying my eyes out to a cab driver.

In short, Lexington+Amy= SHITTY/DRUNKEN/CRYFEST.

This year, I was in Lexington on the same weekend as the Bourbon Chase. BUT, I wasn't there to run, I was there to continue on with the Tour of the SEC Stadiums that my friends and I do every year. I was hopeful that the Gamecocks would not leave me drunk and crying on Saturday night. Well, at least not crying.

Friday night we all got into town and I yelped a burger place for dinner: Sidebar. I am obsessed with veggie burgers, and theirs was only a 6 on a 10 scale. Oh well. Our waitress then sent us to an irish bar down the street.

About 30 seconds after this photo was snapped, we realized we were in a gay irish bar.

And after a dart game that lasted 2 hours it was time to go home. 

BULLSEYE BITCHES! 

I am going to give up running and start playing darts full-time.

Saturday morning arrived way too early, but we got parked and into our tailgating spot by 11am.

First things first:

 The erection of the Cockmaster 3000.

 Technically a beer was cracked first, but whatev.

The Cockmaster 3000 at full staff.

Then we stood/sat/threw a football/hit a shuttlecock around for about 6 hours all the while drinking beer, bourbon and some nasty ass strawberry vodka shots and stuffing our faces with processed foods.

And we took about a bazillion group photos.

Make that bazillion +1.

Finally, it was time to head to the stadium.

I must have been drunk at this point because there was an incident

with a pair of glasses and the concrete and me kicking them

that I didn't remember the next day. Sorry, dude.

I spent the first half of the game grumbling and pissed off.

But thankfully, we turned things around in the second half, and we were able to get our obligatory post game photo in the stadium with legitimate smiles.

This looks like my fake smile, but it wasn't.

I am happy to report that at the end of the night I was NOT crying! Yay!!! (I was however, really pissed off because our friend Brad spilled an entire solo cup full of bourbon in my front seat. Fucking amateur).

I got up Sunday morning and got my 6 mile easy run done and we grabbed breakfast and headed home. Another successful tour stop.

Previous years trips:

2011: Athens, GA

2010: Auburn, AL

2009: Tuscaloosa, AL

2008: Oxford, MS

2007: Baton Rouge, LA

2006: Nashville, TN (not blogged about. Sad).

Race Report: Tin Cup Challenge Marathon

The race started at 6:30, so, after an early wake up call, we walked over to the start line. It was a beautiful morning with overcast skies. The race was small, so there were only a few of us runners milling around and waiting in line for the porta johns. Let it be noted that even though he was getting ready to run a freaking marathon, KoB was helping the race crew set up the finish line. Seriously. While the rest of us were just standing around watching.

With little fanfare, the race started at exactly 6:30. I have few memories of the first 6 miles except that I felt like absolute dog shit. I blamed the altitude, I blamed the slight uphill that we were battling for those first 6 miles, and I blamed the two dudes behind me carrying on a sad conversation. It sucked. I had a slight headache and I felt super fatigued.

Spoiler alert: Pretty much all those bitches behind me ended up schooling me.

For comparison, it looks like KoB was having a good first 6 miles:

Please note that KoB is not even glancing in the direction of the hot chick.

Around the 6 mile marker we turned off the main road and it was like someone flipped a switch. We started to hit some rolling hills and countryside, and I started to feel better and better. It was at this point that I started thinking... hmmm... maybe I have it in me to PR today. (Nevermind the fact that I hadn't trained to PR, that I was running at about 6,000 ft higher elevation that I'm used to, or that the course was pretty grueling).

*****

Now, I interrupt this race report for a little heart-to-heart, dear readers. I read a LOT of running blogs. Some really good ones that I actually enjoy and respect and then some that I kinda "hate read". And the blogs that I "hate read" fall into two categories:

1. Bitches who are apparently just naturally talented at running and who just fucking love running and never have anything bad to say about it, because running is awesome and they are awesome and so they come up with these amazing PRs at like every freaking race. They eat and drink like shit, run all their training runs at race pace and never struggle during races.

2. Bitches who barely train for shit and somehow magically PR at every freaking race.

WTF? I am so insanely jealous of both of these types of bloggers/runners. Who are these people and how do they do it? I can honestly say I have never gone to a race and just "magically PRed," and I've never been able to PR at a race where I didn't have to train hard beforehand and then struggle my ass off during the race. Yet, for whatever reason, I still read these goddamn blogs and I still think during races... ohhhhh.. maybe I'll PR, too! Maybe I'll be just like those runners and just magically bust out a PR or some shit. 

REALITY CHECK: It's not going to happen. Whatever PRs I get, I'm going to have to train and struggle for. Ugh.

*****

Regardless of my PR delusions, I was feeling really good for miles 6-11ish. The course was beautiful and full of lots of little out-n-backs, so I got to see the same damn people every 10 minutes or so. It was looking like I was going to be at the half-way point at around 2:05-7ish. This seemed perfect. I knew that the last 6 miles of the race were a gradual downhill and I knew that I had taken it easy enough so far and had a good enough base, that I should have been able to pick it up and take advantage of those last miles. I was pretty confident that I could break 4:12.

But around mile 12, my stomach started to feel weird. Lucky for me, one of only 2 porta johns on the course was stationed right around mile 12/13. And TMI alert: it was at that porta john that I discovered another reason why I felt like shit for those first 6 miles. I had started my freaking period. DURING the race. This has never, ever happened to me. I've never even started my period during a run before. So then I had a mini-freakout session in the porta john. I mean, obviously, it's not that big of a deal, except that I was uhhh.. a little unprepared for this during a race. But, there wasn't anything I could do about it, so, I just started running again.

Mentally, this whole Period thing kinda fucked with my head a little. I wish I just hadn't realized it, because for the next 3-4 miles all I could think about was... Oh shit. I started my period. Oh shit. Are those cramps? Oh shit. My legs ache. Oh shit. My head hurts. Finally, I just let the whole thing go and stopped worrying about it. 

It was around mile 15 that I got to see KoB on an out and back part of the course. Right around here:

Best Race Pic EVER.

As he got closer, we exchanged pleasantries and I made no mention to him that the 3rd place dude (the bearded, lumberjack fella in the group pic with the hot chick above) was pretty far ahead of him. 

Yaaaaaay Marathons!

While KoB stalked down the number 3 guy, I started taking walk breaks and feeling shitty. I kept watching my time and I was getting frustrated that my miles were getting slower and slower. My PR dreams were slowly fading.

For once in a race pic, I actually look like I'm running.

Courtesy of a sweet downhill.

It was also getting quite sunny and the water stations seemed to be further and further apart. 

Even though my dreams of a PR were LONG gone, I still wanted to try and take advantage of the gradual downhill for the last 6 miles, so I started to pick it up. I took shorter walk breaks and ran faster. I was starting to get really, really thirsty. But, I was feeling much better.

Until mile 24ish, when my stomach started acting up again. At first this was terrible timing, because we were on a main road with NO trees. And then... like a mirage... I saw the only other porta john on the entire course!!!! After a few minutes in there, I popped out feeling like a brand new woman.

The last two miles I ran my ass off. I pushed and ran hard and was feeling decent. And before I knew it, I saw the finish line.

I'm certain I would have PRed had I had #22.

After getting my picture taken, I saw KoB standing there with a cup of water for me. I had a slow ass finish time. But, I didn't give a shit. I had finished a marathon in 2012.

And... guess what? KoB came in 3rd overall!!!
(Maybe the overall winner can now afford clothes that actually fit an adult).

First race of the weekend down. Time to pack up and head to Montana...