Beware the Wily Road Warrior

So, it almost happened again: I was almost hit by a car. But first, the early week.

Stress and stuff was still irking me on Monday and Tuesday, but I hit the road on Monday for five miles. I decided to ditch the marathon training assignments until after the half because my stress-waddiness and lack of energy haven’t blended at all with the concept of running 30+ miles a week or coming home to run over ten miles after work.

Go with what works, right?

Despite every intention to run again on Tuesday, I fell for the Cleveland sports spell and lay on my living room floor mesmerized by playoffs and Yankee spankings. Lucky for me, my resistance bands, yoga mat and weights lay also on the living room floor near the television.

Cross-training Tuesday it was! I returned to some serious stretching, ab work and lower-back exercises, which will have to become part of my everyday once our relocation is complete.

Wednesday morning seemed really promising. I walked into work around 7 a.m. and almost took a detour into my gym bag. There hasn’t been a more perfect morning this year, and somehow I didn’t run through it.

If you live in NEOhio or love the Weather Channel, you’ll know it was all downhill from there. Clouds, wind, storms, rain. You name it.

When I left work, however, it seemed to brighten up (no, not because of me) outside, and I decided to drive to Hudson, park at the grocery store, run a few and then pick up dinner.

It’s about an hour drive, so you can imagine the weather, my energy and my bladder were completely different versions of themselves by the time I pulled into Heinen’s. Unfortunately, the only bathroom in downtown Hudson I know of is the one at Main Street Cupcakes, and I just can’t visit until after the Half.

Yet on I ran.

I followed a 6-mile triangular double loop that traveled from Main Street down Aurora to North Hayden and up Streetsboro, if you’re familiar with the area.

It had some climbs and I took a few semi-detours up some hills, but encountered the biggest challenges from the wind, rain and automobiles.

On my second trip around the triangle, I was crossing a side street just as a Jaguar was headed for a stop sign. Or so I thought.

There I was, wearing fire-engine red shorts, a sunny yellow T-shirt and a blindly orange baseball cap, crossing the street. I couldn’t have been more noticeable if I had been wearing enflamed, bottomless chaps with a neon arrow sign that said “Look at me.” But alas, the driver missed both the stop sign and the runner.

It didn’t take me long to know I should watch all cars—stationary or rolling—in front of which I am crossing. And it still blows my mind when you’re staring at a car and its driver, and they both keep moving.

The driver finally noticed the glowing beacon of don’t-hit-me crossing in front of her car and stopped. Meanwhile, I was turned halfway toward the car (ready to brace myself and crash into the windshield instead of going under) with a WTF look on my face. Then WHAM!

The ground hit me.

When I turned away from the car, I momentarily lost my orientation, stumbled and totally wiped out. Thankfully, I didn’t fall on my knees again this time (I’m tired of looking like a nine-year-old girl with scraped knees), but crashed onto my left hip and both palms. I’m a little scraped and bumped; I’m OK for now.

My neck whipped when I hit the ground, so I was wholly disorientated when I finally crawled onto my feet. Not to mention the whip of embarrassment.

Unlike the last car incident, this driver didn’t get out and scream at me. She followed me down the street, pulled into a driveway and offered me a ride. Another driver also pulled up to offer a ride along the way. I must have been a pathetic sight. So, two points for Hudson.

Once I collected myself and stopped my whimpering and limpering, I started back into my three-mile loop just as the ran really started to pour. I was just about the start feeling all Eeyore again, but I’m kind of bored with feeling sorry for myself. And off I ran.

My right felt a little tweaky; my head and neck felt a little off; and my left hammy just wasn’t right. Nevertheless, I finished the trek around Hudson and walked into my favorite grocery store, semi-sweaty, rained-on, dirty, a little bloody and really scraped. I can only imagine the meticulous produce boys weren’t digging my digging for good apples today.

All this falling and car-dodging got me thinking, though: how do communities rate for runner courtesy? Obviously singular circumstances with individuals don’t speak to the whole community, but I wonder what a thorough investigation might find.

The two times I had incidents in Stow, for example, I was yelled at when I was hit by a car, ignored when I wiped out near an intersection and beeped at when I slowly crossed the street all bloody and limping.

I wiped out on Babbitt Road in Euclid last summer, and the passers-by couldn’t have been more helpful. All traffic stopped (I was on the sidewalk), two people offered me a ride, another offered to call an ambulance, one person came out of his house to help and another woman parked her car and came to me with a First Aid kit. Impressive.

I’ll give Hudson the benefit of the doubt this time. Besides, they do have some pretty good cupcakes. Have I ever mentioned that? While they don’t seem to have the same stop-at-stop-signs tradition we follow in other parts of the country, I did get two offers of help. And that’s not so bad.

If nothing else, today was perfect training for incidents, injuries and inclement weather. I had a mean stitch miles 1-3 and kind of started praying for a bathroom when I was 2.5 miles out. Diving face-first into the cement, however, totally made me lose the stitch and forget about my bladder. So, next time you’re in a bad running situation… you know what to do ;-)

Nothing Else to Do on a Saturday Morning But Win My Age Group

A couple months ago, I wondered how the hoopla I made of races affected my performance. Race after race I’ve described in gory detail how something in my terrified-of-running subconscious arrests my legs at race time. Salty recommended that I casually enter a race someday—without the mess of countdowns and gear-ups that generally precede race day. Now there’s an idea!

Someday several months later…

I woke up around 7 a.m. this morning, thinking it was a work-week day. What a relief to be wrong! After a couple 5:30 a.m. swim practices, I was actually wide awake. My training plan for today called for a 5K at race pace, so I had a Think Thin chocolate fudge protein bar, hopped in the car and headed to Hudson, where the Vertical Runner email mentioned the Joseph Monastra Refuse to Lose 5K race would kick off at 9 a.m.

For the first time, I took a real pre-race warm-up run. I’ve “warmed up” for races past, but it was typically a 25-yard jaunt that had more to do with leaving the car or finding a bathroom than gearing up my muscles. I wound through the First and Main area, thinking about the race and, of course, some cupcakes…

See: I had just vowed two weeks ago that I was swearing off dessert foods until I ran a race with an 8:00/mile pace or better. It’s been rough. My body just wasn’t feeling up to snuff this morning, so I wasn’t hopeful. Both of my hammies were tight, my lower back was hinting at some future discomfort, and the energy that pushed me to drive to Hudson had subsided. At least I’m sticking with my training plan, I thought.

I had expected to feel a little tight: the past week included the sprints and intervals that I’m not accustomed to doing. Results of good training take time and practice. All I wanted to do this morning was run my assigned 5K at a “race pace.”

Nine o’clock finally rolled around and we shuffled toward the starting line. Somehow, I ended up in the very front. The Hermes starter announced we would begin in about two minutes at the sound of her bell.

Thirty seconds later something like a secret starting gun sounded and we all took off! Hermes woman fumbled for her bell and rang it right away. We started off running down a slight hill and for two whole glorious seconds I was winning the race. Ahh. Good times.

After those first two seconds, the typical surge of people sprinting past me at the beginning washed by, and I tried to start this race a little faster than usual. My legs had cooled down since the warm-up, but I could definitely feel the difference between my typical racing legs and the ones I had today! Was it the "casual" race, the lessened hoopla, the intervals? Maybe the allure of cupakes?

The real obstacle for this current house-hunter: Hudson village. Not only are the houses historic, pristine and gorgeous, some of them are for sale! For the first half-mile, I was trying to stay focused and to keep up a faster-than-usual pace, but there were houses with turrets, curvy trim and for-sale signs! What’s a girl to do?

Well, I remembered what happened last time I got caught up in race-time house-hunting (ahem, finished nearly last in cycling), unglued my eyes from the sideshow and thought about my stride, my extension, my follow-though. I only had 3.1 miles to work with here!

I was only feeling a little bit tight about five minutes into the race, so I took my pace up a few notches—just outside my comfort zone. And then I wondered: was I running faster or was my body just not up to snuff? My thought was that it’s only a 5K—even if I get pooped, I can still jog it home, right? It was the first time I’d raced a 5K (last week’s tri leg was a bit different for me), so tackling it took a little playing.

The group had spread out by the time I could see the 1-mile marker down the road, and I was surrounded by a bunch of kids (not including a nine-year-old girl named Jessica who kicked the race in 21:52!). At first I thought I was running uber slow to be at the kids' table, but I looked down at my watch and then passed the marker at 7:41! That’s a minute off my typical first mile. Woo hoo!

Confidence renewed, I tried to stay focused on my pace. The first two miles were mostly uphill, and I was looking forward to the run back and some down-hills. So, I was pretty disappointed (as were several other people I could hear cursing the course) when we veered away from the downward route back. Darn it! My mind and legs were so surprised by the turn of events that the next uphill was a killer for me. I slowed down way too much and crossed mile two at 15:56 (8:15 mile-two split).

So, I can’t lie: at this point I’m thinking that cupcakes are out of my reach and all I really want is a cup of Gatorade and a nap. I had lost my pacer (she took off on the hill that killed my spirit—it wasn’t even that big!) and I didn’t have the mental energy with which I had started. Lucky for me, I knew that I had the physical energy to finish strong. So, I mentally smacked myself back to reality and just tried to stretch out my legs and keep a strong stride.

Mile three passed without anyone calling out the time, and I didn’t even want to check my watch. With about an eighth of a mile to go, a ten-year-old kid with shaggy hair came flying up from behind me! Greg, who used to work at Kent State and had already finished the race, was cheering us from the sidelines. I looked at him and said, “I’m getting beaten my a little person!” So, the kid turned on the jets! Way to go! I sprinted after him, but he finished two seconds ahead of me (he probably helped me cut a few of my own seconds).

My final time: 24:22 (pace - 7:50/mile; last 1.1 mile - 8:26).

I hadn’t realized it at the time—my mental math was wrong—but I was totally cupcake-worthy! While I knew that my time was in the 24:00 area, I didn’t have a clue how/where I had finished. I talked to a couple of people (including Vince from Vertical Runner—he’s like a celebrity—whom I thanked for hooking me up with a killer pair of shoes) and then headed home.

Once I was home, I checked for results. Nothing. I had some breakfast, did some work, talked to Neil, made lunch, and by noon, still nothing.

Finally around 2 p.m. the results rolled in: I found my time and that I had won my age group! Yeah! I’ve never won my age group, and have never expected to win it… accordingly, I didn’t even stay for the awards! I wonder what I would have received? Anyhow, Neil played “We Are the Champions” for me—changing the lyrics, of course, to “Gina is the Champion… of her age group!”—and that was reward enough. How awesome!

Admittedly it was a small race with a slower pack than most of the events I’ve entered. But I’m still proud… and I still picked up cupcakes! So, there were some additional rewards.

I bought a new-to-me car today (a 1998 VW Jetta GLS, which is the car I drove and loved before I gave up driving for a spell), and once the former owner, Emily, dropped it off, Neil and I packed in for an inaugural drive and for a cupcake run.

The cupcake order: seven chocolate lava cuppies for Neil and "Main Street Chocolate Fluff," wedding white and half-baked cookie dough for me.

What a day! I had two cupcakes and will have to freeze-save the rest for my next goal. What can I say: the cupcake-carrot on a stick works for me!

By the way: it turns out that we all started at the sound of a police-escort motorcycle backfiring instead of a secret starting gun on the grassy knoll. Ahh, Hermes.