100km Medio Fondo (Second Ever Metric Century)

Joy here...Last August I signed up for and completed my very first metric century ride (100kms).  I rode with a group of people out on a cold and windy day as part of the "Share the Road" initiative.

The long line of keen cyclists waiting outside the
registration tent.

This July I signed up for my very second metric century ride (100kms), as part of the 1st annual Ottawa Gran Fondo...a three-distance event organized in the spirit of gran fondo rides in other parts of the world.  There's a SuprFondo (220kms), a GranFondo (170kms), and a MedioFondo (100kms).

We signed in on Friday, and as this is just the first year of the event, there are a few wrinkles still to be ironed out in the execution of the event...I don't want to complain, because I'm super happy that this event exists, but the line ups to register were INSANE.  After our looooooong wait to register and get our kit, we went for a much-needed drink, followed by dinner at the hotel, where one, by one, we texted our other friends who were riding and lured them from the line up to the dinner table.

Post-Registration, Pre-
Ride libation.

Why wait in line when you can
hang out with friends??

Then we got up bright and early on Saturday morning, and my new fast friend, Turbo Tricia, (who I met on Thursday and then rode with on Friday) told us that she opted to ride the 100km distance with me and The Man.  We met up under the blue sky and hot sun for our 9am start time and got right up to the front of the starters.

We thought we'd average around 30km/hr, taking it easy as we rode over the rolling terrain through the countryside to the west of Ottawa, but as soon as the announcer said "Go!" that front group (with us in it) was off like a shot!  We were racing out of there at speeds around 40km/hr.  Soon a tight, but fast group arranged itself around us, with that little Turbo up on the front, and me working in the group, staying on the wheel of the person in front of me.  It was faster than I thought we would be going, but I felt good and strong.  The group was working well together, with some strong riders up front, and the rest of us along for a fast, hard ride through the countryside.

My average speed...just under 33km/hr.

At around the 30km mark, we wheeled into the first water/toilet station.  As is usual for me, I was in the portapotty before the wheels on my bike stopped turning.  When I got back on my bike and headed out with the rest of the group, we were still on our hell-for-leather pace.  I was sweating under the ever warming summer sun, but I was able to hold the wheels of the strong rider in the group; I was able to take my turn on the front pulling the group; I was able to stay strong over the rollers; and I was feeling great...like there was nothing my legs couldn't do.

At around the 60km mark, we had to take a detour for the next water/toilet station.  By that point I was all out of water.  My two 750ml bottles were utterly dry, as I had been sucking on them for the previous hour and a half.  I filled them up with stale (but icy cold) water from the coolers at the feed station, and then our group rolled out.  Unfortunately, a few of us got caught behind traffic trying to pull out of the feed station.  While the stronger riders up front peeled away from us, some of us were stuck watching traffic go by.  Then when our opportunity presented itself, I pulled out and put my head down and just time trialled away on my own to catch up with everyone (including The Man who had made the split).  I was riding at over 40km/hr, and the rest of the group who had been caught behind with me couldn't hold my wheel.  I was on my own, when I saw the group up ahead.  They were just rolling away from a stop light and were slow enough for me to catch them.  I slowed down to the 35km/hr pace that the group was holding, but my legs were tired.  Our group was a lot smaller than it had been before the split at the last feed station.

So with two strong guys up front, Turbo, me, The Man, and a couple of others, we rolled onwards, over a rough gravel section of road and onwards to the last 1/3 of the metric century.

And then my back pain showed up.

Not again!!!!

That back pain first appeared at my first ever bunch fondo ride back in May, and then it showed up with a vengeance when The Man and I rode two loops of the park before the bike race, but it was a real pain in the back during my first ever bike race last Sunday, and now it was here again, at kilometre 79 of this 100km ride.  And with the arrival of the lower back pain, I experienced the departure of any power in my legs.

The group was riding, and my legs were turning, but those riders were getting farther and farther away from me.  I watched my speed go from 38km/hr, to 35km/hr, down to 32km/hr in a matter of seconds, all the while the group was riding away from me into the blue skies and rolling green hills.  The Man soft pedalled back to me, but I couldn't even catch up to him or shout to him to carry on.  I was just in my own, small world filled with pain.  I told him to go on, and he began his own time trial to catch up to the rest of the group.

I looked down to see that I was at kilometre 81, and I had less than 20 kilometres of pure suffering ahead of me.  Well, I figured I could do that.  So I just put my head down and went to a dark, dark hurty place.  I was sure that my back pain was actually renal failure from something in the mystery water I drank.  I saw a long life ahead of me with dialysis; I've seen Steel Magnolias...I know how bad that ends.

So I just put my head down and suffered my own, personal kidney damage, pedalling all by myself and just wallowing in self pity.

But then, at around kilometre 85, suddenly my legs were turning more quickly even through the back pain.  I caught up to another rider and clung to his heel for a while.  He had a sign on his back "I'm riding for Martine" with a link to the Princess Margaret Cancer care centre, ibelieveit.ca, on his back.  I don't know who Martine is, or what that person's battle is or why this guy was out there under a hot sun  by himself suffering through the final leg of a 100km ride, but it sure put my own little back pain into perspective.  After recovering on this guy's wheel for a while, I was feeling better, and I pulled in front of him; "hey, thanks for the tow, I'll take my turn on the front for a while," I said.  So we took turns pulling on the front, and we were joined by another girl who was out there suffering by herself.  The three of us rode together, each taking turns on the front, each making small talk, and each counting down the final kilometres.

And then we hit kilometre 100.

But we were in the middle of the country side.  There was no finish line.  There was no hotel.  There were only trees and rural country roads.

Kilometre 103:  Still nothing familiar.

My well deserved post ride meal & beer.

Kilometre 105:  Finally, we turned into a subdivision that looked familiar from Friday's "loosen the legs" ride.  I put my head down, pedalled, and my speed was back up to 40km/hr before I knew it.  The group of us all gathered together at the red light, and with nearly no time at all, we were turning down the road towards the finish line where The Man was waiting, people were cheering, and there was cold beer waiting for me at the conclusion of my second ever 100km ride.

Ride Stats:
Distance:  108km
Time:  3:17
Average Speed:  33km/hr

Over and out,
Joy

First Ever Road Race: Gatineau Grand Prix (Loops #19 & #20)

Joy here...Earlier this spring I made the decision not to train for a full marathon this summer, even though my co-blogger, Nomi, has now gone on to do TWO full marathons (read about her first one here and her second one here) since we first started this blog as a way to track our training after competing in our first-ever running race (a 10km race in Singapore in May 2010).

Hot on the heels of the decision not to train for a full marathon, was my decision to take my cycling more seriously and throw myself into as many local events on the bike that I could find.

Race kit all set and ready to go!

So in May I competed in my first timed bunch bike ride--the Gatineau MedioFondo--as well as the 10km Time Trials--on three separate weeks in May, finishing in 17:51, then in 17:13, and finally in 16:59--now I'm also competing in the weekly 15km Time Trials--averaging around 25:45 so far--and back in mid-June I began toying with the idea of competing in my first ever real cycling road race, the local Gatineau Grand Prix (which, by the way, is the largest annual bike race in Canada, with over 600 participants in various categories).

Today was race day.

I did it.

It was just before 8am when we loaded the bike and the cooler and the supplies up in the car to head over to the park where the race start was (and where the more competitive categories were already out on the road racing).  It was already 30C by then, and by mid-day the mercury would reach 35C, feeling more like 41C with the humidex.  So it was hot, damn hot.  I rode around for approximately 40 minutes to try to warm up my legs by doing some hard efforts, and then, before I knew it, I was looking down at my clock and realizing it was time to roll my way over to the start line with the rest of my category's racers, the Novice Women.

Many were lined up along the side of the road by the start line, looking nervous and eager.  Most had never raced before, and we wished each other luck, and looked around to figure out the proper kind of start-line etiquette.  Should we be on the front?  Should we find a safe place at the back?  Is it better to be at the side of the group?  Since the Novice Women were starting with the Men 60+ category, there were about 40 of us all gathered in a group to begin.  I was on my bike behind an elderly guy who looked pretty fit, so I figured that he'd know what to do off the start line.  Then the race organizers counted us down, and we were off.

Or rather, some of us were off.

Getting ready to warm up and get started!

My first mistake of the race was getting behind that old guy, who took about a 100 years to clip onto his bike and get pedalling.  I ended up riding around him to make sure that I was in the main group off the start line.

My second mistake was being on the outside right of the group, because as I pedalled my way to try to get closer to the front of the group, I had to pass people on the right-hand side; I shouted that I was "on your right" as I came up beside people, but I know that it was probably disconcerting to be passed on the right.  Oh well.  They should have just pedalled harder.

Then we approached the first climb--Fortune Climb--and already my third mistake was beginning to take its toll.  By not being right at the front of the group when we started the race, I put myself at the mercy of the riders ahead of me.  If they didn't stick to the riders ahead of them, then I, too, would fall back from those front riders.  And that's exactly what happened.  As we started the climb, I looked ahead, and there was already a smaller group part way up the first part of the climb, and I knew I wouldn't be able to catch them while climbing.  So I just settled in with a group of four women riders and rode up with them.

And that's when things started to get good.

One of the riders was more experienced than the rest of us, and she had us taking turns on the front of our little four-person cycling group.  Each of us stayed on the front for no longer than 30 seconds, and then we rotated back.  This way we kept our speed up without taxing ourselves too much.  I felt good and strong.

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen. (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

And then when I was on the front for one of the rollers after the turnaround at the top point of the 21km loop (the whole race was two loops), my back pain from last week showed up, and I began to fall off the pace.  In a matter of seconds, I went from taking my 30second turn on the front of our group of four women and two men who had joined us, to drifting back through the group and off the back.  Then, before I could do anything about it, I could see them slowly pulling away from me.  I tried changing to an easier gear to pedal faster to see if I could catch them...that didn't work; I tried changing to a harder gear to force myself up to them...that didn't work.  I was forced to watch them pull ever-so-slightly away from me, leaving me all on my own, knowing full well that a single rider just can't keep the same high pace as a group of riders working together.

I was deflated.  And to add insult to injury, my back was killing me.

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen. (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

So I entered that sad and dark place where all my insecurities jumped to the fore of my brain with a vengeance.  "What are you doing, cycling, you don't know what you're doing!"  "You're probably causing permanent damage to your back."  "You should just quit now."  "You'll never be able to finish."  "Your time will be embarrassing."  "Just go home."  etc. etc.  So while the sun got hotter and hotter up above, and the sweat was pouring down my face as I struggled through every pedal stroke on an empty stretch of road high in the Gatineau Park I had to contend with those little voices getting louder and louder and more and more insistent.

Then I remembered the motto on my road ID--"pain is temporary"--that got me through last week's painful ride, and I remembered the full quotation from which that little motto is taken:

"Pain is temporary.  It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place.  If I quit, however, it lasts forever."

Lance Armstrong

Now I know that people are of two minds about Lance Armstrong.  One camp sees him as an inspiration, a living legend, while the other camp sees him as an unrepentant doping cheat.  All I can say is that while I was out there ticking off the kilometres all by myself, I sure was happy to think of those words of his.  I used them to shut up my little voices but good.

And then, just as I was able to shut up those voices, I rode past The Man on the side of the road cheering loudly for me and yelling, "you're in the top five, keep going!"  And I thought to myself, "top five?  How is that possible?  He must be wrong."  

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen.  (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

I started that Fortune Climb for the second time, the group no longer visible ahead of me, and all alone in my suffering up the hill.  I tried not to look down at my little computer that tells speed, because each time I did, I was surprised by how slow I was going.  I mean, I've ridden that climb many times before, and I have a rough sense of what kind of speed I can hold as I ride up it.  Let's just say, I was nowhere near my normal speed today.

Then as I hit the rollers after the top of the climb--the very spot where I had been dropped off the group I had been riding so well with--my little cycling guardian angel showed up.  Mr. #476 who was in the Men's 40+ category and doing 4 loops of the park had clearly been dropped off his main group, and was riding alone.  He came up behind me and said, "the two of us suffering can just pull each other home."  And that's exactly what we did.  The two of us began taking turns on the front, keeping our speed up, and somehow with the advent of company, my legs got that extra burst of energy that they needed.  Then as we rode the two of us together, we passed one of the women who had been on that original group that I was riding with.  We blew right past her and she wasn't able to hang on to our wheel.  Then we approached another woman, and I shouted to her to join us, so the three of us made a pretty solid group riding home together.

Maybe next time, I'll be racing in this kit!

As we approached the finishing straight, the other girl and I knew that we were in the same category, so we started sprinting each other.  I didn't have much in my legs for a sprint, but I put my bike into a hard gear and pedalled as hard as I could.  I thought I had her, but the finishing line was about a foot too far away for me, and she was able to pull ahead.  

In the end, she snagged 5th spot, and I took 6th.

But as we rolled over the finish line together, congratulating each other, she looked at me and said, "what team do you ride with?"  And I said, "um, no one, this is my first race."  And she said, "well, you should ride with us!"  So I've been invited to join an actual cycling team (CycleFit Chicks)...after my first ever race!

So in the end, I learned a lot about what mistakes not to make in a bike race, and I learned how to suffer through discomfort.  

And now that it's all over, I couldn't be prouder or happier.

Fabian Cancellara (or what I imagine I look like in
my own mind sometimes).

Fabian Cancellara, one of my favourite professional cyclists (who you should totally follow on twitter, because he's hilarious), said that in a race there are two results:  there's your personal result, i.e. how you felt about your performance on the day, and then there's your result when you compare yourself against others.  That makes a whole lot of sense to me, and I was thinking about that as I huffed and puffed in the hot sun at the finish line, feeling contentment at being sought out for a team (she came up to me numerous times to make sure that I'd join her team).

So here are my race results:

Time:  1:27 (under the 1:30 time that I had set for myself)

Average Pace:  28.6km/hr (better than the 27km/hr I average on my Wednesday rides)

Distance:  42km

Placing:  6th out of 23

Over and out,

Joy

Note:  For more pictures and a video, please see the Ottawa Citizen's coverage of the race, by clicking here.

Beautiful Day......[Nomi's Second Marathon]

Nomi says,

So, Lulu wanted to run her first marathon this year and she wanted to run somewhere with pleasant weather and a very flat route. She suggested Gold Coast, Australia, we badgered our respective families into agreeing and thus, our great adventure began.

As with my previous marathon, i had a training plan all mapped out on a nice big calendar. And as with my training for the previous marathon...I couldn't really follow it. I tried to run at least 3 times in the gym during weekdays and tried to do a long run during weekends with Lulu. About 1 month before race day, we decided to do one long run of at least 30kms. If we could do that much, I was sure that we could finish 42kms. Lulu gave me a pair of CW-X compression tights, and i decided to try those out. Which was not a good idea. I was not used to them, and they compressed in ways that made my right knee and thigh hurt. So, I decided not to run anymore after that. I wanted my knee to recover for the marathon. I would go to the gym and use the various machines there to maintain my fitness, but not strain the joints. It was a compromise of sorts. If i didn't run anymore, my knee would recover. But, I knew that my endurance and strength would be affected to a certain degree. But I guess, as long as i could finish in time, it would do.

The weather in Gold Coast was expected to be in the range of 9 to 20C during the race. I had no idea what to wear. I live in a place with only 2 types of weather. Hot and dry or hot and wet...with haze intermittently.  I thought that I had to wear long sleeves, long tights, a wind cheater, a hat, a balaclava maybe, throw in some gloves, thick socks and make a thorough fool of myself :) ...So, i asked the Guru of Cold Weather -Joy, for her opinion...and she said, a sleeveless T and 3/4 tights would do. 'Cool and clear is the best weather to run in ', Joy said. Honestly, i was a little skeptical, cause she was used to sub-zero temperatures, but she would know cause she ran in similar weather during her first half marathon. So, a T-shirt and tights it would be. It was also raining in the days right up to the race, so i managed to get some plastic rainwear, which kind of looked like a garbage bag with a hood and sleeves. I assumed that the race would be well organized, so left my camelbak at home. I would rely on whatever hydration fluids provided but I did bring my GU gels. I also didn't bring my GPS. I would run with my usual pace and there probably would be pacers and distance markers by the road.
The day of race dawned bight and clear. It was truly a Beautiful Day. The rained had stopped the day before and temperatures were expected to be about 10 to 23 degrees. But to me it was still cold. It was about 14C before the race. It was like going to a big, big party . There were thousands of runners mingling around. Most were in sleeveless T's and shorts. Some were covered from head to toe, with wind cheaters, hand warmers, gloves, full tights, garbage bags with holes for the head and arms. And some were in costume too. There was a Japanese lady with a tutu and a veil, a few with short cotton kimonos over running gear, one dressed as a frog, one as 'Dragonball' , one in a superman costume, and there was an air of festivity and fun. The runners were categorized according to the expected finishing time. Me and Lulu were in wave D, which was 4 hr 30mins and thereafter. We made our way to our category.....and there were so few runners there, maybe less than 75 or so. The majority of them were in groups expecting to finish much earlier.

The gun went off at 7.20 am and it took 5 minutes before i crossed the start line. I think that this race was one of the nicest that i have run. The weather was wonderful. The route was through coastal roads alongside beautiful beaches, through suburbs along the sea and since it was a Sunday, a lot of residents had decided to come out and make an event of it. There were street musicians along the way Some people had barbies in their gardens, many were walking dogs, some stood by the road holding placards for people running the race, some stood in the boot of their pick up trucks with load hailers cheering the runners along and the participation from all these people and observers were fantastic. Strangers clapped, cheered you on, waved, called out your name on your bib, encouraged, told you what a good job you were doing, drivers honked and shouted encouragement from their cars, children stood by the road-side to touch your hand as you passed them and this was truly a novelty for me. These people made you feel welcome running in their neighborhoods.

My knee was fine in the beginning of the race. However, I did wonder if the Australian kilometer was longer than the Malaysian one. It felt like it took forever just to complete a kilometer. 1 hour and 10 minutes into the race, when all i ran was about 11kms or so, the elite runners were returning! There was a wave of Kenyans....soon followed by the elite runners and after another kilometer or so a hoard of A wave and B wave runners thundered pass. And I had only completer about a quarter of what i was supposed to do...The temperature may be moderate but the sunlight is strong. It was hot and blasting in my face for the longest time. Luckily i had a hat and sunglasses. I kept wondering about Lulu who only wore a bandana cause she was not used to hats or sunglasses. We had started of running together initially but we drifted away after a while.

After 25kms or so, i felt the muscles of my legs stiffen, tighten and become mildly uncooperative. However the knee held up and there was no outward discomfort from it. I stopped and drank at every hydration station. But, I think I probably drank too much cause I needed at least 3 toilet stops.The fluids provided were dilute and mildly 'detergent' tasting. But, something was better than nothing. Also, it was hot but quite dry. I could feel my skin baking and drying out in that strong glaring light. Somewhere before the 32km mark, Lulu caught up with me and we progressed together. However she soon started cramping up at 32kms or so. She couldn't move and was in a lot of pain. To cut a long story short, we had to walk after that. Despite hydrating herself and consuming energy gels, she did not get better. She knew that these cramps were from under -training, not electrolyte imbalance. I asked her to rest  by the road, to sit for a while, but she told me, 'Once i sit - i know i won't be able to get up again'. So, limp, hobble and push forward she did. I could see the frustration and pain she was in. She had been doing really well and if she didn't have cramps, she would have finished her first full marathon in very good time. After walking for about 6 kms or so, she told me to go on without her. She said - 'This is not what i wanted for you. You go on'.  By that time we had less than 4 kms left to go and a little more than an hour before cut off time. My legs were really hurting by then and I ran-walked to the finish line at 5 hr 54 mins. Lulu reached 5 minutes later. I am so proud of the both of us :) It was a good race to run I look forward to our next race together, hopefully with Joy too.

First 15km Time Trial: My Inner Lance Armstrong

Joy here...Last week was my final 10km Time Trial of the Ottawa Bicycle Club's annual women-only Time Trial series that runs from May to August.  This week the distance jumps from the manageable 10kms to a frightening 15kms.

Now that might not sound like much of a jump, but, trust me, it is.

At the 10km Time Trial distance, I can be riding, giving my all, feeling like I'm going to puke, but then I can look down and see that I've completed 8kms, and will myself onwards to the final 2kms.  But now for the 15km Time Trial distance, I will be riding, giving my all, feeling like I'm going to puke, and then I will look down and see that I've completed 8kms, and I will want to die, because I'll only be halfway through!  

So as we drove to the new starting line for the longer distance, I was feeling a little apprehensive.  I didn't really ride last week (only Tuesday's 10km Time Trial and then Sunday's ride in the park with the bear), and so I was feeling a bit lazy and out of shape on top of being nervous about the demands of the new distance.

But as I started warming up on my stationary trainer, I began to feel better and better.  I decided that I would just ride this Time Trial like Lance.

What I look like in my head.

Lance Armstrong - 7 time Tour de France winner - at age 40 has just taken up professional triathlons again (he used to be a triathlete in his teens).  He did his first-ever half ironman triathlon in February and placed 2nd.  He's been in the top 10 in the following 4 half ironmans that he's competed in, winning 2 of them.  And how does he win?  He uses his strength on the bike and just powers away from the rest of the field, forcing them to chase him for the final leg of the event - a half marathon finish after riding the bike for 90kms - and for both the Florida and Hawaii events, no one was able to catch him!

So as I rolled my bike over to the start line to get ready with the rest of the women, I just wanted to be like Lance - high cadence, full confidence, impressive results - and didn't let my nervousness about the new 15km distance overwhelm me.

Out there on the course, I got a wobbly start, and then my computer didn't kick in right away, so I knew that my time and my distance would be slightly off, so I couldn't really count on reliable data from my computer.  All I could do was ride by feel - keeping my breathing rhythmic and trying my hardest to keep my legs spinning fast.  I would check my power every now and then to make sure I was riding at around 200watts and that my speed was somewhere in the neighbourhood of 35km/hr.

Me warming up.

I shouted "on your left" each time I had to pass some unsuspecting commuting cyclist out on the course (and, of course, without fail each time I passed a guy, he would try to speed up and race me...can you say fragile male ego???).  And if I was passing someone who was competing in the Time Trial - like this amazing 80 year old who competes each week - I would shout encouragement:  "we're almost done!" and usually give a thumbs-up.  You never know when someone needs just that tiny bit of a boost to keep on going.

As I tore through the finish-line with no idea of my average speed or time because of my little computer mishap off the starting line, I had no idea how I did.  I cooled down amongst the other riders, and when one of the women asked "how did it go?" all I could say was, "15 is much harder than 10!" to which she heartily agreed.

Then we gathered around the time keepers to find out how we did, and I'm happy to report that I finished within the top 10 of my first-ever 15km time trial.  My average speed was 34.97km/hr, and I averaged just under 200watts for the whole duration.  I finished in 25:44...next week let's hope I can get closer to 25 minutes flat.

Or even break 25 minutes.

That's what Lance would do.

Over and out,
Joy

Third Time Trial: The Suitcase of Courage

Joy here...This afternoon the skies opened up, and we were treated to one heck of a thunderstorm - lighting, thunder, pouring rain - but then it all cleared up, and the skies turned blue just in time for this week's time trial.

Phil and Paul

Now let's back up to 2007 when The Man and I were first dating.  He was (and still is) a big cycling fan, and I figured, "okay, if I'm gonna date this guy, I might as well try to learn a thing or two about cycling" (a sport that I knew nothing about; I kinda thought that bike racing was just about pedalling faster or slower, and I sure didn't know that it was a team sport. I mean, there's only one guy on a bike at a time, right?).  So we sat down one weekend and went through his cycling DVDs...all 28 hours worth of 7 Tours de France in which Lance Armstrong was the overall victor.  And slowly but surely, in that weekend's crash course on cycling, I learned a thing or two, and I began to appreciate the sport.  I still didn't ride a bike (or even own one), but at least I understood the sport (in theory).

Getting the engine started (note:  I'm wearing pink in
honour of Ryder Hesjedal's monumental Giro win!)

And I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wouldn't have been able to get into the sport, understand the sport, or even watch more than 5 minutes of it had it not been for the amazing commentary of Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen, or "Phil and Paul" as they're known affectionately in our house.

One of Paul's favourite phrases as he tries hard to express the kind of suffering that a rider is experiencing on the bike is that the rider is "digging deep into the suitcase of courage."

Let me tell you...this afternoon I finally learned what that phrase actually means.

Because of the thundershowers, the day was inordinately humid, and as the sun began to shine in the late afternoon, mist began to rise off the asphalt parking lot where I was warming up for the Time Trial.  I was sweating and feeling like I was back in Malaysia.  I've written before about my pet theory about how it's harder to breathe and be powerful on the bike when the air is thick and humid, and I definitely think that was the case today.

Waiting at the start line to go!

I lined up at the start line, and as the volunteers let go of my bike and I headed out for my last 10km TT (next week we are being bumped up to 15kms), I just couldn't get a good rhythm going.  I felt that I wasn't breathing well, and while I tried to keep my cadence high (turning my pedals faster), every pedal stroke seemed to be a suffer fest.

As this is our last week racing 10kms, and my first time was 17:51 and my second time was 17:13, all I wanted to do this week was break into the 16 minute mark.

As I turned around and started racing hell for leather back for the final 5kms, I told myself to forget about high cadence and breathing, and just pedal my little heart out, and that's what I did.  At the 8km mark, I just clicked my bike into a harder gear (you know how I like the "big ring," hence my nickname), put my head down, and pedalled as hard as I possibly could.  I was digging deep into that suitcase of courage.

I didn't see the finish line.

I didn't see my time.

I didn't even see The Man cheering me on.

I was dead tired, cross-eyed, and utterly spent.  So I noodled along the road until my eyes and legs worked again and I stopped huffing and puffing, and then I turned around and rode my bike back to the car to await the final times.

And guess what?  I placed 3rd overall in the Time Trial and had an average speed of 35.53km/hr, with a final time of 16:59!  Since I made it under 17 minutes...I guess all that digging into the suitcase of courage paid off.

Over and out,
Joy

Second Time Trial: The Pros Came out to Race!

Me warming up on my trainer before
the time trial. (Don't worry, mom, I put
on a helmet when I was actually on the road!)

Joy here...Under a grey sky and a light shower sprinkling rain drops on my sunglasses, I headed out for my second-ever time trial.  But this time, a couple of heavy-hitters showed up to ride as well.  Pro bike racers Tricia Spooner (last year's Ontario Women's Time Trial bronze medallist) and Sophie Matte (featured in a news media write-up as last summer's winner of this series) from the Stevens Cyclery women's team arrived looking weathered, strong, scary, and confident.  Perhaps it's no surprise that they took spots #1 and #2 of this little weekly, Tuesday night women's time trial series!

What is a bit of a surprise is that yours truly jumped from 3rd place in her age category last week to 1st place this week!

20 women showed up in the light rain showers to ride, and I came in 6th overall...and, I mean, if you don't count those pros taking the top two spots, really I came in 4th overall...but that's getting a little bit crazy on technicalities, so I'll enjoy my 6th place.

The funny thing is:  I don't have a time trial bike; I don't have fancy time trialling equipment like an aero helmet or skin suit; I don't actually know exactly how and when I should be changing gears on my bike; and I still don't really know how to stand and pedal.  So I figure that once I get some of the picky details of just how to ride a bike under my belt, I'll just get better and better, which goes a long way to making this little weekly endeavour really fun.  It sort of feels like the sky's the limit, if you know what I mean.

Me at the start line in the rain!

Overall it took me 17:13 to finish 10km (vs 17:51 last week), and my average speed was 34.85km/hr (vs 33.61km/hr last week).  I'm not sure if I'll be able to improve by 40 seconds each week, as that's a pretty big improvement, but I'm just happy that I seem to be moving in the right direction.

Next Tuesday is the final 10km time trial...and then it'll be 15km ones...and who knows how I'll do at that?

Over and out,
Joy

First Bike Race Ever!

Joy here...This blog began on the heels of Nomi and I finishing our first-ever running race.  That was a 10km running race that took place as the sun set on the airport roads in Singapore at the end of May 2010.

Fast forward two years, and it's now May 2012.

I just completed another first.

Snacking on a mint chocolate GU to fuel up before
the start of the time trial!
(See our "favourite things" post for more on sport foods!)

This time it was my first-ever bike race.  It was a 10km time trial.

In May 2010, I finished that 10km running race in 54:48 and was happy to have finished in under 60 minutes, which was my target.  Tonight, I finished a 10km time trial in 17:51 and was happy to have finished in under 18 minutes, which was my target.

Time trialling is a particular kind of bike race where each rider races the clock.  She starts alone, and the next rider starts 30 seconds after her, and the next another 30 seconds later, and the next another 30 seconds later and so on down the ranks.  So you're just out there on the road riding by yourself, looking at your own watch and hoping that no one from behind you is going so fast that she tears through that 30 second head-start you have on her to pass you.  Once everyone has finished the course, the race organizers can tally everyone's results and come up with a ranking.

Me, fourth in line, waiting my turn to start!

There's a local women's time trial series run here in Ottawa out at the Aviation museum (where I've ridden before a few times this season, like this Saturday ride where I practiced going really hard, or when I rode with the Trainer and Professor and another friend and had to battle the winds and a blown tire, or that time when "gym guy" wouldn't let me use the bathroom, or when Cili Padi and I rode for our first outdoor ride of the season back in March).  Since I figured I'm sort of familiar with the road, there'd be no harm in heading out there to try my hand (or feet and legs) at time trialling.

I figured that so long as I didn't come in dead last, I'd be fine.  There are a lot of fit and talented cyclists in this town, so I just didn't want to embarrass myself.

Me just getting started...

The race organizers lined us up in the order of where we figured we would finish, slowest to fastest.  So we gathered together at the side of the road in the proper order, and then each cyclist would get up to the start line, and a volunteer would hold the back of her bike so that she could clip both feet into the pedals (usually if both feet are clipped in, you have to be moving, otherwise you'll just fall over...trust me, I've fallen plenty of times).  As the volunteer counts down from 5 seconds, the rider gets ready to start, and then when the countdown reaches 0 the volunteer holding the bike gives the cyclists a kind of push (ever-so-slight) and off she goes!

I had never experienced this kind of start before, so I was just happy that I didn't fall over into the ditch as soon as the guy let me go!

To compensate, I started pedalling really fast, and before I knew it, I looked down at my computer, and I was riding at 36km/hr.  I knew I couldn't hold that pace for the full 10kms without getting really tired or exploding my legs (both figuratively and literally), so I slowed down to about 33km/hr and tried to hold that.  I could hear my legs pushing--whoomp, whoomp, whoomp--as I willed myself forward.  The road is deceptive.  It looks relatively flat, but it is NOT.  It inclines upwards ever so slightly for quite a while, and then just when I was thinking that I couldn't take it any more, I reached a stretch where there were some wicked winds tearing across these open fields and into me, making each pedal stroke that much harder.  It was like pedalling through molasses...molasses with screaming legs.

Me storming over the finish line.

And then, I was at the turn-around point.  I had to watch for traffic, because the road isn't closed and we just ride on the paved shoulder, the turn-around point can be rather dangerous, because you have to shoulder check and also hope no one's coming from the front, so I slowed down quite a bit and did the turn kind of awkwardly, but then I picked up the pace and went over 40km/hr for a while before the wind picked up again and my legs told me to slow down a bit.  So I just kept my breathing steady and tried to keep my legs steady as they turned over, and then, before I knew it, I was only 300m from the finish line and I pedalled as fast as my little legs could carry me...zooming past the finishing line and shouting out my number so that the time keepers could match my time up with my identity.

In the end, it was a super fun race experience, and when the results were posted, I was happy to find out how I did:

Out of 29 competitors, I came in 14th, and in my category (female age 30-35), I came in 3rd!

Woo hoo! I didn't come in dead last!

Over and out,
Joy

PS-I couldn't have had this amazingly fun race adventure without the help of The Man who came with me (and took the pics), cheered me on, held my food, and was the one who told me to aim for around 18 minutes in the first place.  He also told me how to ride a time trial, so that when I started off a little fast, it was his voice I heard in my head telling me to ride smart and conserve energy.  Just a little shout out to The Man...well deserved! :)

I.....I, Want To Reach For The Stars....[Nomi's First Marathon]

Nomi says,


Well, maybe I'll start with the finishing line of a full marathon first.


Joy had I planned to run a full marathon this year. And I sort if wanted to chicken out. And, if Joy and Lulu did not encourage and support me, I probably would have. I didn't think i would be able to finish one at this point of time. My right knee had been giving me problems for the past 2 months or so. I wasn't in horrific pain or anything, but it would start twinging about 45 minutes into a run, and sometimes it would scream silently even as i got ready for a session at the gym or a road run. I had stopped running significant distances about 3 weeks prior to the race. I mostly went to the gym and used the elliptical trainer or the stationary bike. And i had only run a maximum of 3 hours prior to this. I didn't know if i could run more than that. But, i thought if i didn't do this now, when would i do it then? And I wanted to commemorate 2011, a significant year for me, with a personal event.

I actually planned my training more than 6 months in advance. Did I follow the plan...of course not! Planning and actually following it are 2 different things for me. Towards the deadline of the marathon...i was just thinking that i would be thankful if i could even do the distance. Runner's World  Nov 2011 issue had very good advice regarding running a full marathon and i did try to follow some of the pointers regarding carbo loading,  hydrating well , tapering, getting enough rest, etc, etc.

I remember while driving to the island where the marathon was to be held, i had to cross the bridge where i would actually run later in the night and it was so daunting. It seemed to stretch forever and i didn't know if i could run that far. But, i had already signed up for the run, planned a holiday around it, so i would do it.

This year, there were about 27, 000++ participants, but only a fraction were full marathoners. My run started at 2 am. Luckily , it had rained earlier, so the asphalt was cool...( for tropical standards, cool would be anything that was 26C and below) and the weather was wonderful . There was a refreshing breeze blowing and it made a huge difference to the run. Joy and Lulu were super encouraging, sending messages of support before my run and i really wished that they were there physically with me. I remember voicing that thought to Lulu just before the race and she texted me, telling me that she would be by my side in spirit throughout the run, and that was such a comforting thought. And i know that Joy, was rooting for me from halfway across the world too...

Starting point...from the 'Finish' end...

So there i was , just an insignificant dot amongst the thousands of people around me at 1 am on the day of the race. I sat next to a bunch of elderly gentleman, all who were sporting the race tag of full marathoners. I thought to myself...if they could do it , so could I right? I decided to carry a 1L camelbak, because i didn't know about how well planned this race would be with regards to hydration. I think that there were in total about 5 individuals who decided to bring their own fluids...And i came armed with a handful of gels too.

And with a loud blare, the horn went off for the start for full marathoners at 2 am in the morning. People rushed ahead of me. Me.. i decided to take it slow and easy . Not having run this distance before, i had no idea what i was in for. So , there i went off, feeling a bit a fool venturing into the unknown, the fluids sloshing in my hydration pack feeling like i was going into a trek into the Himalayas. And, about 15 minutes into the run, my right knee started twinging, giving off small niggling pain impulses and I remember thinking....how was I going to do this, if there was going to be this discomfort. Luckily though, the pain stopped about 30 minutes later and the run was comfortable and actually enjoyable.

About 1 hr and 22 minutes into the run, barely one third of the total distance, i saw the front runners passing me on their way back! They were these strong , fast Kenyans and they were sure to cinch the top 5 titles. Also, the half marathoners had also started their race and they literally zoomed ahead of my slow plodding form. This annual race, that i run is generally well planned, but this year, the first water station was approximately at 5km, the next at 10kms and the first isotonic rehydration fluid station was at 15kms into the run !!!! I as so thankful that i decided to lug my camelbak, because the fluids were certainly insufficient for long distance runners. 2 of the stations after the 15km mark too, had run out of water.

The run was comfortable for the first 21/2 hours to 3 hours or so. The weather was wonderful, with a gentle cool breeze blowing, the asphalt wasn't radiating heat and all my body parts were behaving generally well. I had a pack of gels with me and they were so useful. I consumed one every 1 hour and felt energized and not the least tired. ( I think i had consumed enough caffeine in the gels to keep me awake for 72 hours or so) Till about 3 hours into the run, when the pain started creeping insidiously . It started with the right knee...then the left. It was quite tolerable at first. Kind of like whiny toddlers that haven't broken into full fledged yowls. It started with twinges, then dull aches...no loud protests to stop as yet. But it grew steadily and after the 30km mark and it was decidedly uncomfortable. I had mostly run continuously before, just stopping to get fluids or refill my camelbak. Now i had to stop for short breaks to relieve the pain. And i started counting the kms till the end. I couldn't believe that i still had more than 10kms left!!!



For a while the run-walk-run strategy helped....but during the last 5 kms, the pain was continuous. Frankly, it hurt like hell!!!! It didn't make a difference whether one walked or ran. The 'whiny toddler' was screaming in full force now. I remember Joy's Man mentioning that it was better to run fast and finish earlier...than to run slow and drag out the pounding of the joints on the pavement...Both my hips and knees were so painful and  even the back of my neck hurt. Luckily there were stations with volunteers handing put bags of ice and i ran while pressing the ice into hips, knees, legs...and it did help, mostly as a distraction. At the last 3.5km mark, i walked with another runner who told me that this was the 4th full marathon that he had run, in this year. And he said that he thought it would be easier, but after 30kms, the pain didn't lessen at all, during every run...and he questioned why he put himself through this 'torture' every time. But then he said that the feeling of accomplishment that he got when crossing the finishing line was indescribable, and made him plan for this next run....

The last few kms of my run coincided with the10km run, 5km run and the fun run event. It was chaos. There you were just wanting to have the run over and done with, your whole body protesting in pain, ...having to contend with hoards of mostly young runners who were walking, chatting, holding hands and strolling in your path, some sprinting without much sense or direction.....and you just felt this overwhelming" Get out of the way" feeling...

The end approached, it was broad daylight with beautiful sunshine by that time and i crossed the finishing line at 5 hours and 48 minutes. My joints sighed in relief. I was done...finally. Joy and Lulu would be proud of me:) Unfortunately this race was not very well organized. A lot of the full marathoners, did not get their finishing T's or those who got them didn't get them in the right size, no water or hydration fluids were handed out to the exhausted runners at the end of their run, there were no shower bays or changing areas for the runners and they were a total of maybe 10 or 15 porto-potties at the start /finishing area to cater to 27, 000++ runners????? And the most glaring error..the start/finish banner was placed in reverse ie you started at the "Finish "line and ended at the "Stat" line....well...

 It was certainly a memorable event. I couldn't walk properly for about 48 hours after that. I think that this is the longest post that i have put up and i hope that the next time i do something like this, it would be with Joy and Lulu. I certainly couldn't have done this without them.

Run for the Cure: 5km Run

Joy here...Back when I signed up for this year's "Run for the Cure" fundraising run to support my dear friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer this spring, I thought that I'd just treat it like any other run.  I thought to myself, "okay, self, you've been into this whole barefoot running thing, so you can use this 5k run as a chance to try out your barefoot shoes," and I figured "okay, self, you ran last year's 5k Army Run in 23 minutes, so this year you can aim for 20 minutes flat!"  Even though I've spent most of my summer in cycling cleats out on my bike rather than in my little Vibrams hitting the pavement, I was confident that I'd be running ahead of the pack this Sunday.  I had visions of my arms raised wide as I crossed the finish line before the hustle and bustle of slower runners and walkers at the back.  I figured that this would be the day to get my running back on track, redeeming me for all the time spent on the bike this summer in one moment of glory.

And then it hit me:  I couldn't be approaching this Run for the Cure with an attitude farther from the spirit in which is was conceived.

The World Health Organization stats say that there are just over 1 million new cases of breast cancer diagnosed each year, and while millions of people are suffering this disease - my own friend included - here I was thinking about my running and my own fitness goals as the be-all end-all.

Talk about selfish.

Let me tell you...as today approached, my attitude changed 180 degrees.  

I have stood by the sidelines watching my friend wage her own particular battle with cancer - complete with "tours of duty", which is how she's dubbing her chemo treatments - and watched her organize her schedule, her medication, her friends, her family, her support team, and deal with the after affects of her treatments (nausea and hair loss among the most commonly known, but the equally painful sense of depression and vulnerability that no one can really explain to you until you're in it).  I've had it hit home to me that no matter how good the Canadian Health Care system may be, much of the care that cancer sufferers require is in-home care offered by friends and family to be there for you when you need them. Your doctor may be able to prescribe things for you, but it'll be your hair dresser who lets you cry for hours and then cuts your new wig in an awesome and super-hot style so that you don't have to lose every part of yourself in this process.  Your oncologist may see you through chemo, but it'll be your friends who speed-drive you through the city when you have an allergic reaction and need to get to the hospital before your throat swells up and blocks your airways.  Your acupuncturist may help you deal with some of the pain, but it'll be your friends who will bring you laughter, which really is the best medicine.

And the Run for the Cure is about raising money for cancer research, but it's about soooooo much more.  It's about me learning that I have amazing friends and family who helped me raise more than $2,000 this year!  It's about me learning that my health and my ability to run are blessings that I must never take for granted.  It's about me learning that the energy and community that my friend has built around her is worth more than the thousands we raised in her name.  To quote what she says on her Run for the Cure page:  "I will need your energy and support to get me through. I can't think of a better way than a run where we can assemble and achieve something for ourselves, for others, and for a greater good. That's energy I hope to draw from."

Today I learned something about that energy and greater good.  I felt the love that all her friends, family, and students feel for her.  And more than that, I felt all the goodwill that all loved ones feel for their beloveds who suffer from, battle, defeat, and succumb to cancer. And as I ran amongst the 50+ friends and family gathered for this one friend, I took the opportunity to run with a family who are good friends of mine.  The mother and father are dear friends, and I have a significant soft spot for their kids - a boy and a girl - who are really cool, interesting, and smart children.  They just lost their own grandfather (the dad's dad) to cancer this last year, and they were out their running with their mom and dad in the full awareness that they were running to help beat cancer.  At one moment the boy - who ran the entire 5kms!!! - was running along at our side while his mom and I chatted, and he just spontaneously shouted, "I'm running for grandpa!"

That, my friends, means more than any running race time or any amount of funds raised.

The words and emotion of a 9 year old boy out there running under a cold, grey October sky encapsulated that sense of love and hope and faith and excitement that we all feel:  that with the combined energy of thousands of people united behind the goal of eradicating this disease, it really can happen.

Over and out, 

Joy

1/2 Marathon: From Sundown to Sundown

Joy here...On Saturday, May 28, 2011 I ran my second ever half marathon; it was exactly one year from when I ran my first ever running race, both were at Singapore's Sundown Marathon running event.  Last year, for my first ever running race, I ran the Sundown 10km race, and 12 months later, I ran the Sundown Half Marathon 21km race.  In 12 months between May 2010's Sundown race and May 2011's Sundown race, I ran a total of 6 races:  (1) May 2010-10km Sundown Race; (2) September 2010-5km Army Run; (3) October 2010-21km Toronto Half Marathon; (4) November 2010-10km Cookie Run; (5) March 2011-30km Around the Bay; and (6) May 2011-21km Sundown Half Marathon.

6 races in 12 months is a good record by anyone's standard.  For me, who only took up running 4 years ago and was convinced I would die if I ran for more than 10 minutes consecutively, it is an achievement that staggers me.

I write that I am staggered by the achievement of learning to run and race not because I want to be full of myself and be a braggart.  I write that not because I want to toot my own horn.  I write that not because I want to impress you.  I write that not to overblow my meagre achievements in comparison to true and real athletes.  I write that not to expose my swelled-head and monster-ego.  I write that as a way to softly and gently pat myself on my own back.  I follow another blog, Hook & Eye, that is co-authored by one of my colleagues at the university where I am a professor, and she wrote an interesting entry about how difficult we as women find it to boast about ourselves.  Now I don't know if this is a gendered trait or not, but I definitely find it hard to both take a compliment and certainly to give one to myself.  So by starting out today's race report about my second-ever half marathon, I wanted to start in a way that unabashedly pinned my pride to my shoulder.  It's hard work this boasting.  Really it is.

But you know what's even harder?

Running a damn half marathon in the tropics!!!

The starting line...and...we're off!

All along the plan was for Nomi, our friend Lulu, me, and The Man to head to Singapore to run this half marathon event.  At the last minute, The Man was sick and opted to be "support crew" for the three ladies, and not run the event himself.  And in all honesty, that was fine by us.  It was much easier for us to have someone there to hold our bags for us while we ran.

Here's our little race report from my perspective, and I'll get Nomi and Lulu to post their viewpoints as well, because every race is different for every single runner in the race!

The four of us piled into a taxi from our hotel in central Singapore and with nerves starting to take hold, even though each of us felt woefully under-prepared for this race, we arrived at the race site and went to get our race kit (our numbers etc.).  There were over 26,000 racers at this whole event - which included a 10km race, a 21km half marathon, and a 42km full marathon (with the 100km ultra marathon being held on a different weekend) - and the atmosphere at the start was pumped and lively.  There was a band playing on the main stage, and the smell of cotton candy hung sickly sweet in the humid air, giving the racing village the feel of a fair ground.  Everywhere around us we saw sweaty finishers of the 10km race with their finisher's medals around their necks, and we saw other runners gearing up for their own events.  We tried on our race shirts, and Nomi was too shy to wear the size small (although it looked really good on her).  Lulu wouldn't even wear any size of the race shirt as given, and preferred her tried and true pink T-Shirt.  Under the setting sun amidst the scent of popcorn and sweat, I stripped down to my sports bra to change into my new race singlet and pin my number to my stomach so that I could get ready.

Then we took some photos, drank some gatorade, and made a few jokes and some small talk as we could feel ourselves getting a bit nervous.  As the sky changed from a bright shade of pink to a deep indigo and then darker grey we were corralled over to the starting line.  While Lulu and Nomi waited and stood with those runners who thought they'd take more than 2 hours to finish the race, I couldn't contain my growing race excitement and I went up to the start to stand amidst those who figured that they'd be done in 2 hours or less.

Crammed in there, close to the starting line with all the other eager runners, we began to heat up.  The air was still and humid, and with all those bodies crammed in there, we began to sweat.  I could feel it running down my back between my shoulder blades, and already I wished that I was holding a bottle of water rather than gatorade so that I could drench myself, but it wasn't to be.

Sweating and hot, we danced and we jiggled our nervous run energy until the announcers called us to close in on the start line.  I was about 4 rows from the front, jammed in with the rest of the smiling runners, and Lulu and Nomi were somewhere behind me in the crowd.  I looked up at the dark sky one last time before the gun went off and wished my friends well in their own race, and then BANG the gun sounded and we were off!

At first I was feeling good.  I mean, I hadn't really trained for this run, and I had barely put in any time running since arriving in the tropical heat and humidity of Southeast Asia, so I was only planning on running at about a 6:00min/km pace.  I figured that was about as fast as I could pull off for my 30km Around the Bay effort, so I should be able to do that for this one, even with minimal training.

But as I started running, with my eyes scanning the asphalt ahead keenly watching for the first hydration station at kilometre #2, I looked at my Garmin to realize that I was running a 5:30min/km pace.  And while that felt good and felt as though I could keep that pace for the whole time, I knew that such a feeling so early on in the race could be really illusory, and halfway through I would be regretting not reining myself in.  So rein myself in I did.  I kept my pace at around 5:45min/km thinking that wasn't too much quicker than my 6:00min/km plan, and if I could pull of 5:45min/km then finishing this half marathon in under 2 hours would be within my grasp.

That started to be my plan:  finish in under 2 hours.  So as I made it to the first hydration station - one cup of water over my head and one down my gullet - I began to hear that mantra in my head, under two hours, under two hours, under two hours...


And overlaid atop that mantra running through my body with the rhythm of my feet against the hot asphalt of the road were my more conscious thoughts:  thoughts about feeling lucky that I've found running in my thirties; thoughts about what is meaningful in my life; thoughts about where I'm going professionally; thoughts about what I'd like materially out of life; thoughts about my family (um, both the good thoughts and the bad ones about that topic); and generally the things that I like to think about when out for a long run.

I like to just let my mind wander so that running can be like an extended prayer or meditation.  Those ancient Greeks knew what they were up to by holding athletic games to honour the gods; there's something about the connection between the body and the spirit that so often we seem to have lost or squashed in contemporary society where it's so easy to be secular, so easy to be fat, so easy to be disconnected, so easy to be individualistic... but out there on a run with thousands of other runners both together and separate in a hot Singapore night, I couldn't help but feel connected.  And not just connected to the other runners, but connected to something larger than myself.  Now, don't worry, I'm not going to be all artsy fartsy right now and write about some grand plan that links us all one to the other with some Star Wars like "force," but I will say that if you are thinking about running and think that it's just about being fit or being in shape, you are missing the best part about running.  And you'll just have to run and run and run until you find what that best part is that I'm talking about.

So I kept on going...under two hours, under two hours, under two hours...drinking water at every 2kms and dumping another cup over my head each time.  I was drenched.  I could feel sweat and water making my shirt stick to me like a second layer of skin, and my shoes squelched with each step.  But still I was H-O-T.  But then, before I knew it, I had been running for nearly an hour and I was already at the turn around point!

I looked at my Garmin and realized that I had run 10kms in the same amount of time this year as I had run it last year.  Only last year after 10kms I was done and over the finish line, but this year I still had 11kms to go!  But I could do it!  I was feeling good, hot, but good.  Surprisingly good...under two hours, under two hours, under two hours...

The route turned so that I was running along the coast and in the dark, hot night, I could hear the crashing of the surf beside me and could see the low waves rolling against the bulkhead.  I could hear crickets in the trees and my own heavy breathing.  It was going to be okay...under two hours, under two hours, under two hours...

And then I reached kilometre 16 and things started to feel a little less okay.  My feet started aching.  My knees started aching.  My hips started aching.  And then...worst of all, my dreaded running demons showed up.  Those running demons are the thoughts that go through my head that have no business being there, those pesky, little negative voices that undermine me when things start getting tough.  They never fail to show up, those voices in my head.  I hear them with their insistent suggestions undermining my confidence:  "you haven't run enough long training runs, you can't finish;" "you're not used to the heat;" "you're straining your internal organs;" "your pancreas will explode;" "you're giving yourself liver disease;" "you've probably broken your toe;" "your patella has come unattached;" "you're having an apendicitis attack" etc. with each crazy thought more nuts than the first, but nonetheless negative and insistent.  By kilometre 18 I was just concentrating on my breathing and tuning out those negative voices threatening to undermine me.  I knew that I could run 3 more kilometres, I just knew it.  But could I run those 3 more kilometres in just over 15 minutes so that I could finish in under 2 hours?

...now I'm at kilometre 19....only 2 more to go...1:49...in October I was finished at this point...only 10 minutes and I can make it in under 2 hours...

Dammit.

I just couldn't will my body to go any faster without hurting myself over those final two kilometres.  I hung onto my 5:45min/km pace and just couldn't finish within 2 hours.

My final race stats were:
Ran a total of 2:01:45 for a distance of 21kms with an average pace of 5:45min/km.

And here's how those finishing stats place me overall:

Result in Gender (Women) - 52nd place 1977 finishers behind. About 3% of finishers ahead. Result in Division (FEMALE 30-34) - 10th place 371 finishers behind. About 2% of finishers ahead. LEGEND The location of the figure on the line shows your position in the finish order of the race. The closer the figure is to the right, the closer you were to the winner. FACTS Who's who Of the 5549 who finished, 37% were Women and 63% were Men. Opposite Sex For the record, you were ahead of about 94% of men finishers.

In the end, I didn't make it under 2 hours, but one of the important things that I've learned about running races is that most of the time, the goals are important both before and during the event, but afterwards, the accomplishment of finishing and keeping those running demons at bay is more important than any timing, any placing, or any medal.

It's not when you finish the race that counts...it's simply finishing that counts!

Over and out,
Joy