I didn't do it.  Well, I kind of did it.  

I've been sick lately with a bad chest cold.  In fact, as of yesterday it had been three weeks since I had gotten out for a run.

This has been driving me right up a wall.  I worry when I don't run.  I especially worry when I know that I've got a race coming up.  I worry even when this race is an unimportant little 5K at a conference I'm attending.  They don't even post the results.  Still.  It bugs me when I can't run.

All the advice about running when you're sick says that you shouldn't run when it's in your chest, but you can get away with it when it's a head cold.  Don't run with a fever.  Yadda yadda.  I was tempted anyway.

Earlier this week I was just about over the not running and I decided that I would dope myself up and run anyway.  Unrelated to this crackheaded notion, I ended up being late for the bus.  Naturally, I ran the last few blocks to get there in time.  Dramatic coughing ensued and persisted the rest of the evening.  The next morning my wife said something about how I had kept her up with my coughing. Right.  No running with a chest cold.

Today I finally got back on the road.  I ran an easy three and had no problems at all.  I'm a little worried about navigating the hills in mountainous ConferenceTown, but I guess I'll be okay.  I don't expect a PR, and I'm going to try not to hurt myself.  I have a bad habit of going too hard in races and then limping around for a month or two because evidently my body is just that fragile.

The nice thing is that it's gotten a lot cooler here in North Carolina in the last three weeks.

While I won't claim to be any kind of expert, I have eight different 5Ks now under my belt, plus a few races at other distances. No marathons, but one half.

In comments, JoyMama asked me something I wish I had known at my first 5K. She's about to do her first one. It got me thinking about how far I've come from those days. I had to go back to my running log to figure out which race we were even talking about.

I'm not sure that any of this actually comes under the heading of things I wish I had known. Maybe one or two.

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I didn't know...

...how often I would go back and look at my old running logs
There's one good thing about being a major geek.  I started keeping running logs right off when I started running.  I refer to them far more often than I ever thought I would.  Thanks to this nerdy habit, I know that my first race was actually 2.75 miles.  I ran it at an 11:05 pace.  My first 5K, I ran at an 11:59 pace, finishing in 37:15.  Two months later, I chopped my time down considerably to 29:35, a 9:31 pace.  

I never expected how useful it can be to go back and see what your times were on a particular running route at a particular phase in your training.

...the "race day" routine
In a funny way, this was the most anxiety producing during my first races.  Heck, it can produce anxiety even now.  Find the right line.  Tell them your name.  Pick up your packet.  Some races will break this process down into multiple steps.  Bag. T-shirt.  Timing chip.  Number. Use four pins (they'll have them there).  Don't pin the bottom part of the number in case they need to rip it off of you when you come through the chute.  Of course, if you have a fancy pants running number holder thingy like Brother Metronome, you don't have to worry about safety pins.

I always worry about what to wear on a particular race day.  What's the weather going to be like?  Am I going to need Body Glide?  Pants or shorts?  Do I wear my beloved running tights?

...that a good strategy is to dress warmly for the start and then dump some of your clothes at the last minute
Of course, this is complicated in the winter by the fact that you usually end up standing around for at least a  half-hour.  I've learned to throw on an extra pair of sweatpants over my tights or shorts, and then dump them.  Larger races will have a formal bag drop.  Smaller races, you can usually just stash them somewhere likely.  I stashed my sweats under my car, once.

...about the differences between small races and larger ones
I remember someone saying something mildly disparaging about my first race.  It was put on by some sorority on campus as a fundraiser.  Looking back on it, it's pretty clear that they didn't know what they were doing.  They didn't have a lot of the amenities that I've come to expect. I didn't care.  I didn't know what I was doing, either.

Big races will have timing chips, although they're going to disposable RFID tags on your number instead of chips you attach to your shoe and have to return.  In a bigger race, your "chip time" counts from when you cross the start line to when you cross the finish.  Larger races have more swag in their bags.  This is generally of dubious value.

Medium sized races won't necessarily have a pad at the start line.  You only get a "gun time," since there's only a pad at the finish.  I don't mind this setup much.  Being computerized helps them keep track of runners and post times more quickly after the race is over.  I can mentally deduct however long it takes me to get from where I started to where the actual start line is.

The smallest races won't post your time at all on the web.  This is important because you need to look up as you get close to the finish line, find the clock, and then actually remember what it said.  This is a task that I find surprisingly hard to manage at the end of a race.

...that slow people start at the back
Embarassingly, I didn't really clue into this until my second or third race.  I mean, I was never right up front or anything.  I just didn't catch on that the fast people go in the front and me, I go in the back.  I usually try to eyeball people and sort myself into being just in front of the walkers.  Guessing wrong about your pace relative to everyone else means that you're either getting in someone's way or someone is getting in your way.  So far, I've only been at one race that had signs up for particular paces.  I wish more of them did that.

...to think about my splits
In some sense, this really doesn't matter for your first 5K.  Just run as fast as you can, right?  Still, it's nice to know how you're doing along the way.  Some races will have someone calling out times as you reach mile markers.  If your race publishes their route ahead of time, you can figure it out yourself and pace yourself with your watch.  Cool running has a nice pace calculator that will also do splits, and tell you how much time it takes to get to particular mile markers at a given pace. 

...nobody could tell that I didn't know what the hell I was doing
I thought sure that everyone could tell that I had never run a race before, but of course that wasn't true.  Even people who look nervous can be veterans.  Hell, I still get nervous before every single race.    

...that there's some sort of cruel conspiracy to always end races uphill
What's up with that?  It's just not right.

Sometimes being a runner means there's something really wrong with you.

At least, that's what I decided on New Year's Day as my brothers and I were "warming up" for our race. The term warming up implies that it is actually possible to get warm. Let's just say I found that difficult.

Now, I've been gone from Chicago for a good long while. I miss the snow sometimes, but I never ever miss the biting wind. I know, intellectually, that 29 degrees and sunny is very nice weather for a race on January 1 in Chicago. I know this. Heck, I run in 29 degree weather here in North Carolina from time to time. What I don't do is run into the teeth of what Wunderground says were gusts between 9 and 25 m.p.h.

Clearly, something is wrong with me.

In spite of my joking attempts to get my older brother to drink more at his New Year's party, the truth is that even on his worst day I can't keep up with his pace. Nor, for that matter, can I give my younger brother a run for his money. In the spirit of family togetherness, we all decided to run at my pace. I guess I would have liked to decide to run at their pace, but if I had that kind of power I think I would decide to win a million dollars in the lottery, first.

The mistake I made was to tell my I-keep-pace-like-a-metronome brother the pace at which I wanted to run this race. So he "helpfully" ran the race at pretty much exactly that pace. This meant that I spent the entire race about two feet behind my brothers, trying to catch up. I feel like I know what greyhounds feel like on the track, trying to catch that damn rabbit. Maybe those PETA people are right. That is cruel.

All of this wouldn't have been so bad if I had only applied earlier lessons to this race. I've got a Garmin Forerunner, and this device has an evil little stick figure.  You can set this stick figure to run at any pace you like. Then when you start running, you can glance down at your Garmin and see whether you're being humiliated by a little stick figure or not.

I actually figured this out.  What you do is you tell the little stick figure to run slower than you.  Then you get the sense of accomplishment when you beat him.  This is a much better strategy than telling the stick figure your overoptimistic expected pace.  
 
Clearly, I should have used this strategy on Brother Metronome.  Then I would have looked like I was tough, running faster than expected in the face of the cold and windy weather.  

I did have a really nice time, and I was glad my brothers decided to run with me. One of the best parts is that I got to run my first race of the year in my new x-mas present!  My sister-in-law, JoyMama, not only got me a great new running hat.  She also embroidered it with RatM, which is the nickname I've got over there because Running at the Mouth is just too darn long.  I made it my profile pic, too.  Isn't it awesome? :)

Flouting any possible notions of good sense, I ran a race on Friday and then another one today.

My (somewhat weak) justification for this was that Friday's race was 1.) Free and 2.) Only two miles long.

Nevermind that I only just graduated to three mile runs in my training.  Or that doing this jumped my mileage significantly.  Or that I'm coming off of a knee injury and anyway running at race pace two days in a row is never a good idea.

Fortunately, my whole life could serve as testament to the fact that you can do completely idiotic things that turn out just fine.  My knee isn't hurting.  My legs are only a little tired.  Life is good.

Friday's race was a "Jingle Bell Jog" on campus.  It was the first one they had ever done, and somewhat amateurish in its execution.  Nevertheless, the weather was fabulous and they drew a decent crowd.  I ran it fast enough that I'm not entirely convinced that they measured it right - 2 miles in 17:30.  

The worst part of the race?  My academic advisor beat the crap out of me.  She started somewhere behind me, and she still smoked me by thirty seconds at least.  Keep in mind that she's 60.  I'm 37.  I already get enough grief from the woman.  I mean, I already know she's smarter than me.  She has just under a billion publications on her CV.  Does she have to beat me in a race, too?  It seems unfair, somehow.  Maybe I should switch my ambitions.  Instead of trying to be a serious academic, I'll just set my sights on beating my grad students in local races.

Fortunately, she has the sense not to do two races in a row.  At least, she wasn't at the Reindeer Run. I was able to chug along in that race without reflecting on my various inadequacies.

I didn't come anywhere near to Shaving my 5K.  This was supposed to be my "smooth" time, taken down from my "stubble" time earlier in the year.  I ran 28:14 at the beginning of the year, and did this race in 29:27.  However, the Reindeer Run was a nice little race.  There were a few hills, but they didn't do that evil trick of finishing uphill.  They used a kind of "chip" timing I've never seen, where they waved a little paddle over your race # in the chute.  That meant you only get the gun time, not the actual running time you get with a regular chip and two pads.  For small races, I don't really mind that.

I did manage to beat the twelve year-old who kept running full out, then dropping to a walk, then passing me again at a full sprint, only to drop into a walk again.  He must have done that six or seven times before he finally dropped back behind me for the last time.  I'm glad I beat him.  I hate losing to small children.
 
Hey, you take the victories you can get.

Amid a flurry of grading at the end of the semester, I skipped one of my runs this week.  However, I also decided to skip ahead a little in the Couch to 5K program.  I've got a 5K race on Saturday, and I didn't want that to be my first 5K run.  So instead of the 25 minute run that my handy schedule called for, I ran 5K in 28:53.   I didn't push it too much, really.  It's just an extra three minutes and 58 seconds.  Right?

There's no way that I'm going to be able to Shave my 5K time of 28:14.  I am competitive enough that this bugs me, but I'll get over it.

I went back to look at my race times, and for whatever reason, this year has been my racing-est.  I have run six 5K's total, but four of them were this year.  My slowest 5K was in 2006, at 37:15.  My fastest race, where I won my age group (ahem), was this year when I ran it in 27:38. However, during my most recent race, I ran 5K in 31:50.

All of this is to say that the problem with the Shave your 5K challenge is that to do well you need to run your slowest 5K in January and then your fastest 5K in December.  I peaked in April - much too early.

That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

You remember my post about how I was planning to keep up my workouts in the face of the crushing amounts of work during my comprehensive exams?   

Oh yeah, sure.  Not at all.  I worked out maybe six times in the whole month.  If I flunk, maybe I can blame the poor blood circulation to my brain due to my inactivity.

I am back at it, finally.  I'm trying not to be bummed about some of the strength I've lost.  My bench press is down from a not-so-impressive 85 lbs. to an even less impressive 75lbs.  

I'm also running, after a fashion.  I decided the hell with this not running crap.  I'm doing the Couch to 5K plan, and just icing my knee after.  I plan to do a Reindeer Run 5K in December.  I can tell you now that I'm not going to be shaving my 5K time from earlier this year, as I had hoped.  Ah, well.

On Sunday I ran a little 5K, the Run for the Wildlife, which benefits the Piedmont Wildlife Center.  I was briefly annoyed when I saw that, although we all had chip timers on our shoes, there was no mat at the start line.  Having read Vanilla's rant about this, I was prepared to feel indignant.  

After today's race, I concluded that I disagree with him, at least for small races.  There were sixty people at the race on Sunday.  The difference between my chip time and my gun time would have been maybe three seconds.  I know we're all working hard, and I certainly would have been happier with a PR that was three seconds faster.  

However, there are other amenities that come with chip timing.  They are less labor intensive, and our results were posted immediately.  That didn't happen at the last race I ran without chips.  Automation means less volunteer time for the organization to find and manage.

For only sixty people, there just doesn't seem to be any justification for the extra expense, although I don't the price differential.  I would rather see more money go to the organization I'm supporting.  I can mentally deduct those three seconds (or not).  

I do think that it becomes less justifiable as races get larger.  In addition, it would probably be helpful if race brochures announced that although chips would be used, participants would receive gun times and not chip times.  

I admit that I may have been swayed by the fact that I WON MY AGE GROUP.  You should have seen my happy dance.  Clearly, following Laura's advice on how to win your age group paid off for me.  There were only six people in the 36-45 age group.  That's right.  I beat five whole people to win this honor.  I'm quite happy about it, though, since I got a PR at 27:38.  I'm slow, but I'm working on it.

If you want, you can take three seconds off of that time.  I've decided not to worry about it.

I finally decided not to be such a chicken and go ahead and enter the shave your 5K challenge from over at Half-Fast. I was really hesitant to do this for several reasons. For one, the 5K that I ran in February was the fastest 5K I've ever run, and I'm really not convinced that I can actually shave anything off of it. Oops. For another, I'm a little nervous about committing to run a race all the way in November or December of this year. That's a long time from now.

Still, I decided I would go ahead and try it. If nothing else, it will serve as a kind of motivator to keep running even after my half marathon. Right?

So, here we go. I'm going to do it. I'm going to run a faster 5K by the end of this year. 




(I hope)