ABF Mud Run Recap

Let me tell you a little story. When I was a little PhillyGirl, we lived in the middle of the woods in south Jersey. (Yes, PhillyGirl is really a JerseyGirl, but I've since transplanted.) In about 1992, my parents - at a loss for what to do with us during the summer, and probably out of a sense of mercy to my grandparents who watched us during the day - started sending my brother and I to day camp, also in the middle of the woods, at a fabulous place in Medford called Camp Ockanickon.

That became my favorite place in the world. I was a camper there through about 1995, and then became a CIT, a counselor and eventually the boating instructor (I can navigate a canoe like nobody's business). During the fall and winter, I volunteered at the camp's haunted hayrides and breakfast with santa. I stopped working there when I went to college, since it paid about $2 an hour, but that camp was everything to me - I made some of my closest friends there, developed some of my most important relationships there, and it gave me an amazing sense of identity as an awkward child.

(Seriously. I had a mole and a moustache, liked to read and wasn't particularly athletic. SOMETHING had to give.)

Anyway - this morning, I headed out to camp to participate in my first-ever mud run - the ABF 10k Mud Run. My cousin, one of my brothers, and a couple of their friends banded together with me to form team "I Thought They Said 'Rum'" (yes, I picked that up off of one of those shirts they sell at race expos. I'm not that creative).

Heading to packet pickup/sign in...still so dry and so clean and so warm. I didn't realize it then, but I was.

Camp's not super-conducive to lots of people arriving and leaving and parking, so we started our morning at Shawnee High school, where we met up, grabbed our race numbers and pinned them to our sweet day-glo green shirts. I downed ten grams of BCAA's while we waited for our bus to transport us to the start.

Quick aside: in the morning, I was really unsure of what to wear. Forecast was 40ish and sunny. If I was running in 40 degree weather, I would have worn a fairly light shirt. This black shirt that I ended up wearing is thicker and brushed/fleecy on the inside, which makes it a bit too warm for anything over 30 or 35 degrees. BUT...my runs don't usually involve a flippin' cold lake, and I knew I'd be wet and soggy. I figured that I'd bring both and make my call there. THIS WAS THE RIGHT CALL.

Pre-race, I gave a little love to CFCC with a one-armed handstand outside Stockwell Lodge.

PhillyGuy came to be our race photographer and our superfan. Unfortunately, the course wasn't set up and/or managed in a way particularly conducive to spectators, and he only got pictures of us at the start...

..and the finish.

In between these amazing shots, here's what happened (besides my shirt stretching out an extra foot in length).

We ran a short distance - less than a quarter mile - to the first obstacle, which they warned us was going to be brutal and involve very cold water over our heads. The actual phrase they used was "you are going to feel like you're going to die, but just keep moving." We slid through a ribbed plastic pipe directly into a fairly narrow portion of the lake, about 20 feet across, and made our way across to the other side, where we turned around and crossed the lake again, balancing between two ropes. THEN we hopped right back in the lake AGAIN, and had to crawl up another length of pipe to reach the top.

THAT was a hell of a way to start. That water was shockingly, shockingly cold. I hit the water and immediately lost all sense of communication with my body. I was trying to swim, but my limbs just wouldn't listen, and my normally-decent freestyle was awkward and splashing.

After that, we went for a fairly long stretch of running (about .75-1 mile, I'd estimate) before our next obstacle, which was...BACK IN THE WATER. This was a short swim, maybe 100 yards? We powered through, even though (i) it is NOT EASY to swim with shoes on, and (ii) IT WAS SO COLD.

We warmed up a bit over the next few obstacles, including a 10' flat wall, a shorter steep ramp backed with a cargo net, and a 10' ramp backed with a cargo net. This is where teamwork really came in.

We had another stretch of running, long enough to warm us up a little, when it was back into the water - this time to wade our way through waist-deep stagnant swampy water. The water was black with dirt, the bottom was mushy with decaying plants, and the entire length was scattered with hidden underwater branches, trunks, roots and logs. YOU SHOULD SEE MY SHINS.

After the swamp came another 10' wall, the "snake pit" with lots of under-log military crawls through the mud and over-chest-high-log clambers. After that, we were treated with a military crawl through mud under barbed wire, more high up-and-overs, and then a nice long stretch of running (about a mile) to our next destination, where we carried tires up and down a giant (for NJ) hill a few times. After the hills, we went for another nice chunk of running, over some submerged logs, balance beam style, and then a few more minutes of running.

Our final deep-water obstacle was another 50 to 100-yard stretch of swimming, this time with logs that we had to pull ourselves over. I had gotten pretty used to the temperature by that point, but found myself beached on one or two of the logs in what I assume was a less-than-flattering butt-up position.

The last couple of miles flew by, with more high walls and climbing obstacles. Our final obstacle was one last stretch of waist-high water, followed by a short (in hindsight) run back to Stockwell Lodge.

We were dirty and soaking wet, but smiling.

I tried to bust out another one-armed handstand, but just couldn't support myself, so I settled for a normal handstand instead.

I got changed (dry sweatpants have NEVER felt so amazing) and then chased my post-race BCAA's with a Sam Adams winter lager.

The sunshine and dry clothes were great, but I was still super-chilled.

I was also STARVING - I decided to run the race in a semi-fasted state, which meant starting my day with some coffee with grassfed cream around 7:30am, and then nothing ('cept BCAAs) until afterwards. Our heat started at 11 and we finished in just over 2 hours and 15 minutes, so by the time I was dried off and changed, I was definitely ready for some food.

Unfortunately, the options at the post-race "party" weren't so great.

With nothing even remotely paleo around, we headed back to the bus and then straight home, where PhillyGuy and I ordered $75 worth of BBQ takeout from Phoebe's (full rack of pork ribs, 1.5lbs of pulled pork, 20 rotisserie chicken wings, a big ass container of spicy collard greens for me and a couple other sides for him). A few ribs, some pork, a bunch of greens and some 77% dark chocolate later, I was ready for a shower and some rest.

This was SO MUCH FUN, guys. SO MUCH FUN. I'm a lot more tired now than I realized I was going to be - the run felt challenging but never too hard. My thighs and shins are COVERED in scrapes and bruises. While the run had a few little hiccups - you could tell this was their first time organizing an event - everything went smoothly and it was a great first mud run. I'm pumped for Tough Mudder in April.

And also for laying in my bed for the next several hours. Go team.

Philly Half Recap

recap time!

In a nutshell, I am so, SO glad I ran this race. I've been hemming and hawing for years about running a half. I bought a bib (gasp) for the Disney half in...wait for it...2005, and trained well for about two months before I found myself wobbling and limping around with an injured right hip in November of that year. I waited it out, let my hip heal, went back to running for a few months, hurt my right knee. Blah blah blah.

It was a full two years later that I finally signed up for and ran Broad Street 2008 as my first long race. I'd done a handful of 5ks by then and was running 15-20mpw, so with six weeks of training and a few long runs, I was in. I met my goal of 1:30 for that race, and then promptly found myself injured a few weeks later. Right knee this time. But that's what gave me the real "long race" bug.

I'm glad I ran this as my first half, instead of the Distance Run back in September. I blew off my training far too much for that, and I'd have been miserable the entire race. This time, I trained - not a lot, but I trained consistently.

More than anything, this race was FUN. Let's recap.

Standing at the starting line, I wasn't even nervous - I had some anticipation, and I was definitely ready to start, but I was just HAPPY to be running. The purple corral crossed the starting line about twenty minutes after the elites, and we were off.



The first two miles were slow - Arch Street is narrow, and there wasn't much room to weave, so Stephanie and I were held back a little bit. Once we made the turn onto Columbus, everything opened up a lot more...and we made the unfortunate mistake of weaving a bunch. Our pace picked up significantly, but this is where we really started to add distance. D'oh.

Once we turned onto Washington, we ran into Melissa! She looked so happy and was keeping a great pace for her first marathon. We ran together for a couple minutes before she took off up ahead.

We saw Lisa just past mile 4 - she was our first familiar face in the crowd and I think we ended up screaming more for her than she did for us - it was so nice to see a friend! I was a little surprised at how few and far between the spectators were for this race.


(photo courtesy of Lisa)

After that, we just cruised for the next few miles. It felt amazing - yes, I was working, but I felt strong and our pace felt sustainable. Our fastest mile was when we crested the hill on Chestnut Street approaching Drexel and the Mile 7 marker.

And then.

See, the entire race...I had to pee. Bad. When we saw the first porta-potties at Mile 2.2, I considered stopping then, but there were already people lined up and I didn't want to break my rhythm so early in the race. So, I sucked it up. Past the next two sets of porta-potties. Finally, though, at Mile 7, I couldn't fathom the idea of running for another hour without a little relief. So, Stephanie agreed to stop with me.

The lines were sort of long, but they were moving quickly - I'm guessing we were stopped for about 3 minutes or so. I was antsy, Steph was antsy - and then it was finally my turn. AND THEN. I walked into the porta potty, shut the door and looked down. I CANNOT EVEN DESCRIBE TO YOU THE HORROR THAT WAS THE SEAT OF THAT TOILET. two words (and they are NOT words for the faint of heart): bloody. poop.

That was it. I turned around and went right back out. Running the next 6.whatever miles with a full bladder was so, so, SO much better than dealing with that nightmare. And that, my friends, is the story of our 13:25 mile.

We saw PhillyGuy just past the awful porta potty station, up around 33rd and Chestnut - poor guy was literally just standing there by himself, no one around at all. The spectator situation was kind of weak, especially compared to Broad Street, where all ten miles are flanked by hundreds of people.

There was a little bit of a hill in the next mile, as we ran past Drexel frat houses and towards the Zoo. And then another little bit of a hill. And then another little bit of a hill. AND THEN THERE WAS THE GRANDADDY OF ALL HILLS, which seemed to last for ALL of mile 10. We made the conscious decision to walk the majority of that hill - I knew that if I tried to run it, I'd use up every once of gas I had left in my tank, and the last three miles would be pure misery.

Which, okay, they sort of were anyway. But whatever.

My favorite "cheer zone" was at the turnaround/switchback onto West River drive. I wish to god I had a picture of that - probably 6 or 8 young-ish kids, decked out in amazing costumes (I may have been hallucinating by then, but I recall a court jester-type outfit and a soft pretzel, among others), BLASTING Snap's "I Got the Power." Ridiculous as it may seem, that actually cheered me WAY up and gave me a good blast of energy.

At this point, I was feeling great mentally and aerobically, but my legs were really starting to get heavy and tired. Stephanie and I stopped once to stretch and then shuffled on. Somewhere in mile 11, both of us turned on our music for the first time in the entire race. I signaled to her a few minutes later that once my Garmin read 12 miles, I was going to take a walking break. And we broke. I could see the actual Mile 12 marker in the distance, so I suggested we walk to that marker and then kill it for the rest of the race.

Seeing my Garmin hit 12.25 miles at that stupid 12-mile marker was sickening. I knew we were getting increasingly over our distance, but I hadn't realized it was by a full quarter mile. But, whatever. It was time to kill it. And before I knew it, we were coming up the (f*#%&ng) hill off of MLK/West River with the museum on our left. I have never in my life felt so completely and totally exhausted. Every muscle in my body and every fiber of my lungs was screaming at me to stop. I screamed, too - I told Stephanie I wasn't sure I could do it. Thankfully, she was there to tell me otherwise - as we sprinted with every once of speed left in us around the Eakins Oval, we passed plenty of walkers, and if I wasn't running with a friend, that may well have been me.

It was insane - "Chariots of Fire" playing, the crowd screaming, the announcer calling out the winners of the MARATHON (gah, people run a marathon in the time it took me to run a half!), and all I could think was "WHY IS THIS FINISH LINE SO FAR AWAY????"

But - we did it. We finished. I ran my first half marathon with an official time of 2:23.50. I got my first medal EVER, a kickass shirt, a 13.1 mug, and a great sense of accomplishment. And maybe I'll run another one of these someday.

Broad Street Recap

Oh, Broad Street.



I think I'll always have a special place in my heart for this race. It was my first distance race, and my first race other than the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5k. I consider it my first "real" race -- and the first time I ran it (in 2008) was the first time I'd ever run 10 miles. I've never "officially" run a longer distance.



This year...well, let's just say another PR wasn't in the cards like I'd originally hoped. After my knee injury flared up again in February -- the same day I registered for the race -- I more or less didn't train, at all. I started P90X and ran about once a week, on average, for about four miles or so at a time.



Even though my doctor told me I could train and still run it, my actual training didn't really put me where I needed to be, and as of a few weeks ago, I'd all but given up on the race. I considered selling my bib, or going to pick up the t-shirt at the expo and just cheering on the sidelines. But, for whatever reason, I got a wild hair up my ass to see what I could do. When I was able to run eight miles somewhat comfortably, without dying, the week before the race, I figured -- what the hell.



Thankfully, Stephanie from The Bright Side answered my plea on Twitter, and welcomed me to run with her and her sister during the race. And good grief, thank GOD for Stephanie.



The morning of the race, as everyone knows, was not exactly ideal conditions. The humidity was bordering on obnoxious, even at 7:15 in the morning when I got off the subway at Olney. At first, it was overcast -- which we all agreed wouldn't be SO bad. Naturally, before the first gun went off for the wheelchair start, the sun came out. How...sweet.



This year, they introduced corrals and a wave start -- as opposed to 2008, for example, when they just had people standing with signs. "9:00 PACE HERE. 8:00 PACE HERE." etc, etc. -- and all 25,000 or so people just started at once, which led to some great bottlenecking.



Although I was assigned to the green corral (with the other 4,499 people who intended to finish between 1:29 and 1:30), I started a corral back with Stephanie and her sister. Our corral didn't cross the starting line until almost 8:50 -- a good 18 minutes after the official start, and, as I pointed out, after the leaders had probably covered four miles already.



I spent the first three miles of the race like I spend the first chunk of any race -- with an excellent negative internal monologue. "WHY did I sign up for this? WHAT am I doing? There is NO WAY I can finish...what was I thinking? I could still be in bed -- in the air conditioning -- with my dogs and my husband. What is WRONG with me? This is no way to spend a Saturday morning!" etc, etc, etc. I even told myself that, if I just made it to South Street, where PhillyGuy would be looking for me -- I could just hang a hard right and the two of us would head home together.


Not shockingly, those were the hardest miles. They were also our fastest. When Stephanie and I stopped to walk through the first water station, we were both starting to feel it. As I told her then, there were times during that first chunk where I was absolutely, positively, one-thousand-percent certain that I was about to die...and then times when I felt GOOD. Like, okay, I can do this.

I finally started to hit my stride as we approached Spring Garden. It was around that time that I took my first (and only) gel. God, I hate that stuff...but it really does work.

The next few miles started to tick by. Although the tightness in my legs and hips was increasing, the miles were going by much faster, and every time we ran through one of the fire-hydrants-turned-sprinklers, I felt downright refreshed and happy (for a GOOD two seconds a time!). We circled City Hall, where a band was rockin' out "Mustang Sally." I was anxiously awaiting South Street, where PhillyGuy was waiting for me -- and this year, with a camera! He even got a great picture of me and Steph:



What? You don't see me? Let me help.



The perils of running a race with your 30,000 closest friends? When your husband has a great shot of you waving and smiling, you can get overtaken in an instant by someone...maybe someone in a blue shirt...juuuuuuust fast enough to step directly into the shot. Oh, and check out the dude running without a bib. BANDIT!

From then on, it was GAME ON. The last half of the race was -- while significantly slower than the first -- by far my better half. Sure, my legs were screamin' and sure, my hips were unbelievably tight. Sure, we walked it out at the remaining water stations, and sure, we walked a little during Mile 7 as well. But for me, the miles were starting to fly by, and as we got further and further south, I was actually believing that I was -- for real! -- going to finish this.

After we walked for a chunk of Mile 7 to stretch out our legs, Steph and I agreed we'd knock out the last two miles without stopping -- and we did. My god, I have never been so happy to see the Naval Shipyard. Although the vast majority of our gas was long since spent, we both managed to pick it up and "sprint" (if you can call it that!) for the last tenth of a mile or so towards the finish line.

My official chip time was 1:47:57, which sounds about right -- I didn't hit the "stop" button on my Garmin until after we'd gone over the finish line -- I was too busy smiling and waving like a toolbox.



Splits:



Not too shabby, considering the absolutely abysmal conditions. I am sunburned like a mofo, and I believe the official reading was 67% humidity. On any other day, this would have been a treadmill workout, no question about it. I cannot even describe how important it was that I had Steph to run with, either -- if it weren't for her there next to me, it's very likely that I'd have stopped to walk sometime during one of those first three negative, painful miles -- and probably would have added an easy 20 or so minutes to my total time.

After PhillyGuy and I managed to find each other at the shipyard, we started to walk (well, he walked -- I sort of waddled) back to the subway. I was tired and sweaty and happy -- but not nearly as happy as I was when we made our way back to the city, and I finally sat down to this:



A post-race burrito. The most delicious meal I have ever eaten.

I spent a big chunk of the afternoon napping in bed with my dogs. Sophie curled up next to my head on a pillow, while Cosmo snuggled next to my leg. I closed my eyes sometime around 1:30pm and did not open them again until 3:30...and my god, was that glorious.

So...let's see. Am I pleasantly surprised to find that I have a base level of fitness that allows me to complete a 10-mile run without any prior training? Definitely. Would I ever do this again without training? Um, no chance. Even though I came in 17 minutes over my 2008 time, this run was about four billion times more difficult than 2008.

HOWEVER...I've learned something. And this might sound really obvious or really stupid, but it's sort of opened up a new world for me. I don't HAVE to do all of my long runs at a 9:00 pace. In fact -- if I just slow it down a little bit -- I can go a whole lot further and not burn out so quickly.

Um. Rocket science? not so much. But maybe, with this epiphany, there might just be a Philly Half in my not-so-distance future.

Pre-Recap-Recap

More detail coming later. In short -- I did NOT die, although there were a few times where I was certain that I was going to, moreso in the first half of the race.

I came in at a whopping 17 minutes slower than my previous Broad Street time -- but considering (1) the 67% humidity (no, really), and (2) my complete lack of training, I am incredibly happy with that. It would have been a much slower time if I didn't have Stephanie to run with and keep me going!

The lululemon Run:Swiftly tank was an absolute lifesaver. It's like running shirtless while still being clothed. Also, props to SPIbelt for allowing my to keep my cell phone with me and avoid the gear check completely.

I'm a little sunburnt and a little sore today, but all in all, I feel remarkably good. I love Broad Street!