Schoorl Half Marathon Race Report

Every great adventure starts as an idea. This was no different. Last fall, I had received an invitation to this race (that is, an advertisement), and was intrigued by the beauty of the course. Schoorl is a seaside community in northern Holland. The course runs through the town and out into the dunes and woods near the North Sea. They offer various distances: 10 km, half marathon, and 30 km. And the race has the reputation of being “spicy.”


Fresh with the enthusiasm that follows your first race, my friend Christel suggested we register for the half marathon distance. As I have been teaching Christel how to run, I set up a training plan for us, with our runs on Sundays runs getting longer and longer.


A February race is tough. A February half marathon is even tougher. The weather in January was cold and wet and unattractive. After a 10K race in Zandvoort in early January, we missed a couple of our first planned longer distance runs. Christel decided not to run the half marathon and switched her registration to the 10K. This was going to be my fifth half marathon and I wobbled whether to do the distance even though I hadn’t run long in training. I really don't like not starting once I've registered. But on Sunday mornings, I had been content to run the distances within Christel’s capacity rather than the traditional long runs that form part of training for a Half.


By the time my bib arrived in the mail, it was too late to change to the shorter race. Just as well. I did fine. I can't decide if the pain that I'm in right now for not having trained sufficiently outweighs the benefits of skipping all those long runs leading up to the start.  As it turned out, Christel decided to go skating with her family instead of race.  I enjoyed spending the day alone with my thoughts and the run.


What I could've done differently: drink more water the day before. Just like I was complacent about training, I didn’t get too worked up the day before and drink water like a fiend. As a result I felt a little dehydrated on the course.


Running in cold weather is difficult because, although my body is sweating, I generally don't feel like drinking cold water when it’s cold. I also think I relaxed a little too much on my food choices to increase my calorie and carbohydrate intake leading up to the race. Next time, I'll stay on the straight and narrow. Or not.


What worked really well: the night before the race, I gathered everything I wanted to wear and put it in a bag. Wool ski socks, my racing flats, my thermal running tights, compression underwear, compression undershirt, thermal shirt, long-sleeved running shirt, running shell, running gloves, wool neck gator, running hat, lanolin-based skin cream to protect against cold weather, lip balm, heart rate monitor strap, fully charged GPS watch with race plan installed and double-checked, identification, ATM card, train pass, cash, race bib, race strap, Gu Gel, iPod, charged and loaded with a great play list, interval timer, disposable plastic bag cut like a warm-up coat, and pink anti-cancer ribbon.

I made the pink anti-cancer ribbon to remember Lynn, a woman I “met” through an internet fitness forum, She died last week of lung cancer at the age of 44. She enjoyed running until sidelined by plantar fasciitis that never seemed to heal. That probably signaled the beginning of the end. News of her death got me thinking about her attention to her health and fitness, and her effort to maintain a healthy body weight. She was a fitness instructor who enjoyed teaching. She was also a wife and mother. 

To be stalked by lung cancer is a tragedy that reinforces my desire to enjoy every day. Although I cannot live on the edge, acting as if today is the last day, I certainly can enjoy every run in the pleasure that I can run.


That sentiment helped me through the difficult part of the race. In the last six weeks, my longest run was about six weeks ago and only 14 km. I also sat out the last 10 days fighting a virus that put me on the couch. I approached to the race as a beautiful Sunday morning run in the snow.


This year I have selected races that I have never done before, rather than simply repeating my race calendar from the year before. It has been really enjoyable to explore new places in the Netherlands. Schoorl is about two hours north of where I live, by train. I planned my trip so that I would arrive just in time for the start. I decided not to check a bag or bring extra clothes. This way I could avoid the 20 minute walk each way, to and from  the sports hall. The bus from the train station would drop me 500 m from the start. And I did not want to spend any more time than necessary outside getting cold while waiting for the start.


I enjoyed the train ride even though it was snowing heavily. The usually green fields were blanketed in white. I saw a lone wild rabbit looking over frozen ice field. I saw scores of people ice skating in the canals. And lots of silent windmills.


The town was filled with runners excited to be warming up before the race. There was a lone Porta potty at the train station where the buses were waiting to take runners to the start. No one had used that one. That's the one I chose. I was lucky. There were lots of lines at the Porta potty’s closer to the start line.


I arrived to the starting line just right - 20 minutes early - and walked and jogged before going into the starting zone. I was wearing warm-up pants that I decided to remove just before the start. Although I was tempted to throw them away, they were too expensive. So I wrapped them around my middle and tucked them into my waistband of my racing types. So what if I looked like the Michelin man.


I had also decided at the last minute not to bring my water bottles and racing belt. My favorite belt has water bottles that leak slightly. That's not a problem in the summer, but I didn't want to carry a dripping water bottle in the snow.


Unlike several previous races, this time I ran with my iPod and play list of running music that I enjoy. I queued up my favorite inspirational pieces and off we went. For quite a bit of the train ride up, I kept thinking that I should quit and go home. That I hadn't trained well enough. Every time that negative thought came up, I told myself I have really good base training and it would be fine. The negative thought persisted for the first 3 km or so as the course wound around the town before heading out into the dunes.


A cloud had settled over the town and we were running through a frozen mist. I found my pace and matched up with some other runners who seemed to be running at my pace as well. Initially I had planned a run-walk-run strategy, but when I matched up well with this other couple, I decided just to keep running with them.


I don't know if skipping the walk breaks made it harder or easier. I always have a lot of head noise about taking a walk break when everybody else is running. Jeff Galloway says that everybody walks in a race at some point, but his runners walk in the beginning. I don’t know if skipping the early walk breaks made much difference, considering my level of training. In retrospect, maybe my initial pace was a little bit too fast for me since I really had to dig deep for the last 5 km. On the other hand the first 17 kilometers flew by quite easily, and I felt terrific. The pace music from Audiofuel was fantastic. And my “designated pacer” set an incredibly even pace that was well within my ability. It was much easier mentally just to follow the person in front of me. So that's what I did: chased the hare. The kilometers ticked by.


I had also decided to go with the water and nutrition on the course. I don't worry anymore that there won't be any for me - I'm not last anymore. It was nice to enjoy hot sweetened black tea. I made sure I drank a glass of water at each aid station. I also sucked on some orange slices. I didn't eat them because I didn't want the fiber.


Then we got to the first hill. It was a long gentle incline. I told the fellow pacing me (in Dutch) that I thought hills were only in the mind. He agreed. I kept going. His partner slowed down quite a bit. I took some walk breaks at this point, and they caught up.

The middle of the race was ecstatic for me. There's a point after about 90 minutes where I get a runner's high. I love it. Colours intensify. Everything seems better, more real. And it is. The music I was listening to intensified the experience. 
And then I got to I would guess about 17 km and knew that my legs were now running on empty. That's when I connected it with Lynn and her death. I could feel my hip flexors begin to complain. I connected with the blister forming on the ball of my right foot. I felt my quadriceps. I embraced all the sensations and imagined running for Lynn. What little I know of her convinces me that she would've run joyously in the cold snow, slipping on the ice, feeling her muscles complain, without voicing a single discomfort. One more day on earth. One more run.  What would I give if I knew this was my last day, my last run? I told my busy little brain to embrace the pain. I remembered Macca's advice that you can have a terrible day and still have a  great race. I remember the “angel” on the Rotterdam marathon course who told me at the end of 41 km to go for broke, that I could put it back together afterwards.


I kept pushing. And I kept running. I started passing people. One at a one. Then the next. Then the next. And I counted down the remaining distance at each sign posting how far we'd gone. I started to choke up with happiness when I realized there was only 2 km left. That made it hard to breathe. 
I don't remember when, but at some point I left behind the couple I had been running with as her pace faded. I thought to look for them at the finish, but I couldn't find them. Another woman I had been running with at the very end congratulated me for finishing - we ran together at the end with me encouraging her to keep going. Like me, she wants to finish at 10 K. in under an hour. It was nice to have her company while we ground out the last bit.


Coming up next I have a 10 k race every month for the next three months. And some great long bike rides. I got a deep tissue massage on my legs today. Hopefully, tomorrow, I won't be leaning on the handrails while going up and down stairs quite as much. And maybe I won't be walking like an old lady. But at least I'm walking.

The Dune Run: Meijendelloop 2011

Meijendelloop race report. Today was a great run. I will have to wait til my buddies share photos, since I decided I didn't want to carry my phone around with me on the course. I didn't do anything in preparation for this race except register. The longest run was 12 km in August.  More recently, 8 or 9 km.  I nearly talked myself out of it, thinking there was no way I could do it blah blah blah. But heck, in July I ran a half marathon after swimming an hour and cycling for five. I can do it, I told myself. I am an ironman.

I think because of my ambivalence about even starting, I stayed up too late futzing around with my Garmin and making a playlist for my iPod (which I reclaimed from my son) (past midnight) and decided I would pull out my race kit in the morning, since of course I know just where everything is. My right shoulder has been bothering me since the last time I was at the gym (remember me boasting about lifting heavy). So the pain in my shoulder woke me at 5 or so . I flopped around until 7. And made my coffee in the dark and enjoyed it in bed. My house is 5 km from the start, and I planned to ride my bike. I decided to see how it went. walking around collecting stuff didn't take too much time, I thought. I had to fish out a race belt to carry water and gatorade, even though I hate drinking when it's cold. Then I had to find my nifty Ironman bib belt, which made me feel strong and proud. Then I had to dig through the dirty gym laundry to find my tights and winter shirt since it was cold. And then find my gym bag to locate the hat and gloves. 

So you won't be surprised that I started six minutes after the 8 a.m. gun went off. I really should not have had that coffee in bed. I stuffed gel packets and a banana into my pocket on the way out and cranked up We Are the Champions on the way out of the house. In the dark, I startled a small red fox with a white spot on its tail. He scampered off with cat-like motion. My friends yelled Chris! hello! as they ran past me on the bike path, me pedalling furiously to the start line.

I used to be more nervous (and more prepared) for races. I figured out my nutrition off the top of my head. In the past, I've spent way too much time planning a pace. This time I just used my GymBoss timer to do a 4:1 run/walk ratio and kept an eye on my heart rate. 1 min walk breaks were too long, so I started running when I felt like it - usually after 40 seconds. One minute and I started to get cold. The walk break let me catch my breath and settle my heart rate and gave me confidence that I could run forever. Which is true.

I checked in at the start line and asked if I was too late. They laughed, I started. I was really happy to be behind the guys in green jackets on bikes who were trailing the pack of runners - I think the race sells out at 500 people. Last year, the bike guys trailed me, picking up the signs and I felt totally irritated by their presence, guilty every time I took a walk break, imagining they were watching me and judging me and hating me for keeping them outdoors on a snowy, sub-zero day. (Last year I was also still feeling sorry for myself for climbing into the meat wagon when I timed out on the bike at my first 70.3 tri the previous month, so I was probably more resentful than most to having a tail.) 

Well, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, running in the gorgeous red-sky dawn, following the markers and sign posts. At one point though the walking trail split from the bike trail, and there were no markers. I couldn't tell which to follow. I looked in vain on the dry ground for indications of the herd of runners I was following, and doubling back to see if I had missed some sign. No. The sign indicated straight ahead. So I stayed on the wider bike path, since surely I would have seen foot prints had they run down the foot path. 

I came up over a hill and around the bend and saw the water table. Wow, I thought. They've added another water table - since according to the race scheme, the water post was at 15 km, and I had just run only 3 km. Wow, they look surprised. Wow, they're still pouring water into empty cups. The herd hasn't been here yet. Then another woman wearing a race bib came running up too. 

Turns out the bike patrol was pulling up the signs, and without any signs to tell us to keep going north, this gal and I had missed 10 km of the race - the whole of the north loop - and had taken the turn that you would see after completing the north loop. (the course kind of resembles a shoe lace bow. not really, but that will give you a vague idea). 

She had gotten very lost trying to drive to the start, and had started after me. She seemed a little upset and told me she had really wanted to do the whole 25. I started joking around with the volunteers that I didn't mind, I would still get the shirt and the apple cake, and told them I was withdrawing from the race (An "out-faller"). We ran a small loop back north and around to the water table again; she was hoping to wait for the herd to catch up. I knew for myself that was rather pointless, since the herd was so much quicker than I that they'd run me down in a stampede. (The guy who won (1:35:22 , 25 km) is a tall, nice looking, incredibly graceful runner. I had the pleasure of watching him run right past me. He was speeding by without any visible effort).

Anyway I thanked the universe for cutting 10 km off the run and making it possible for me to thoroughly enjoy the day and run 15 km and finish. The course passes the path back to the start line on its way out for Loop 2. And it passes the road to my house..... I was tempted to run an even shorter course, but decided I would simply run the rest of the course and enjoy myself, taking the pace as I wanted. Absolutely no anxiety about being too slow, being last, etc. The herd was way behind me. I folded my bib to indicate I wasn't racing and started looking at the gorgeous oak leaves as the course took me into parts of the dunes where I had not run before. 

There is a sweet spot in running where I find pure pleasure. Colours become more intense. I lose a sense of time. Motion is effortless. This sweet spot eludes me when I am doing interval training or other kinds of pace work. Sometime if I don't run hard enough, I can't find the zone either. But today was sweet. 

I haven't run with music in more than a year, after my son borrowed my iPod to replace the one he lost. And after I grew more confident in just going out for a run by myself, without music. But today, the music was great. I have some running tracks that are composed with specific running paces - they sound like trance music and they'd probably kill you if you listened without running. But they melt my mind so my body can run.

Soon the gazelles started passing me. A thing of beauty. These fast men. Tall, lean, some loose, some tight. nearly all the leaders had the same body type. I'd run like that with those legs too. Glide, I told myself. 


I remembered to eat some gel and drink some water and drink some gatorade. My stomach wasn't that interested in too much. And the run wasn't that long. I ended up with 15.5 km. I had a little trouble with temperature control. I really hadn't needed my coat. But did need it sometimes when the wind picked up. So, the gloves came off nearly immediately. Same with the hat. Zip up shirt & coat. Unzip. Take off coat. Put it back on. Zip shirt, unzip coat. The problem was I let myself get sweaty, which made it very easy to feel cold. Most of the race I ran with my coat rolled up and tied around my waist.

I got big cheers at finishing and had to unfold my number, since they kept asking for it. Then I reminded the gal who was recording the finishes that I was an uitvaller. I saw my fast lady friends who had passed me earlier, and some who finished behind me. We cheered on more finishers and then went into the pancake house for baked apple cake and coffee with lots of fresh whipped cream.

The event is really well run. The volunteers are friendly and offer encouragement. The paths are gorgeous. The number of runners make for an intimate race. Perhaps next year, they'll hold the bikes back ten minutes after the official start to let me enjoy having my coffee in bed without losing the signs on the course. Or maybe I'll get out of bed a little earlier, set out my race kit the night before, and run the whole race. Third time's the charm. Til next year!

Antwerp Ironman 70.3 - Run to the Finish Line

I finally made it to the second transition zone.  The cyclist I was “chasing” – more like following –  disappeared ahead of me when the course took a couple turns.  Riding up, I saw so many people wrapped in silver space blankets. They had already finished and gave me big cheers of encouragement. I was excited and a tiny bit discouraged at the same time since they were done and I still faced a half-marathon run.

Then suddenly there was the entrance into T2.  A wonderful volunteer at the entrance asked me my number in order to direct me to the proper rack. I couldn’t remember, so she checked my bib and pointed.  I found my spot very quickly and was pleased to see my blue and black garbage bags –  the one from the lake with my wetsuit and backpack and the other with my running gear. I had read terrible stories about another race (one in Germany) where all the bags were mixed up and athletes had a terrible time finding their stuff.

I racked my bike and took a deep breath. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was surreal. I was so happy to be finished with the bike that I never had another thought of quitting. I did some quick time calculations and told myself that I had enough time to finish even if I had to walk the whole way. Well, on second thought I realized that wasn’t exactly true, since walking takes 10 minutes a kilometer and I didn’t actually have 210 minutes. But it was reassuring to know that even if I took a lot of walk breaks, I’d be able to finish before the course closed.

I have to explain this fixation I have about finishing in time. I learned to run distance only two years ago. In March 2009 I ran my first 10k race, which took something like 76 or 79 minutes.  Before then I had never run more than five kilometers – and then only because I was training for sprint triathlons. I had tried running in the past and had never progressed to the point where I enjoyed it. I found it too difficult. I took a big scary step at New Years 2009 and registered for a learn-to-run course that included a local 10k race. I loved it!  And I wanted to continue to run.

By September, I ran 16k from Paris to Versailles (10 miles) (2:22), and in October, I ran the Amsterdam Half Marathon (2:42).  I enjoyed it so much I set my sights on a marathon, selecting one in December that had a 5 hour time limit. It was quickly apparent to me that the required pace was beyond my ability so I chose instead the Rotterdam Marathon, with a 5:30 limit, the following April 2010.  I wasn’t last, but I was nearly, finishing in 5:30, which was my plan.  

The short course limits here have created a good deal of anxiety for me since I run “slowly” in comparison to others on the course.  In a half-marathon in March 2010 I got behind the sweepers early and got so upset when I was asked to leave the course at 7km that my race fell apart and I didn’t finish within the 2:30 time limit. I felt devastated even though I had cut about 10 minutes off last half-marathon time six months earlier.  Learning to finish last and validate my own finish have been some serious character-building lessons for me, a perennial over-achiever Type A personality.

So when I realized I had met my race plan for both the swim and the bike, I felt like I had already crossed the finish line. But I still had to put on fresh socks and my running shoes. My feet were numb getting off the bike. And my wool socks were wet with you-know-what. I was very glad to have a nice dry pair of running socks to put on my feet. I had planned for rain and “treated” myself to some dry socks  for the run. I was partly right.  The sun had come out. I started chatting and joking around with the race volunteer who had guided me to my spot. I had no sunscreen! But I had a hat.

When your feet are numb, it’s hard to feel whether your socks are on right. I got the right sock all twisted up in the process of putting it on my damp, numb foot, and had to straighten it out. Then I realized there was something in the toe of my left shoe.  I pulled my foot out and checked – and found the two salt capsules I had stashed in my shoe early this morning.

The capsules were part of my nutrition plan. Endurance racing is as much about fueling as it is about pacing. Pre-race planning required a lot of decisions:  how many calories an hour to eat (300), how much water to drink (about 500 ml an hour), and how to get enough electrolytes to avoid cramping (take capsules during the week leading up to the race, then two before the swim, two before the run).  All this I had practiced in earlier races and during training sessions.

I had also decided I was going to run “commando” – naked – that is, without a fuel belt.  In the past, I’ve looked like a running tourist with the amount of stuff I’ve carried (fanny back, hat, coat, camera, dual water bottles).  Once, when I was running home after a race, someone commented that I looked like I had strapped a BBQ on my backside. To be honest, I hadn’t run with that pack! It held my race kit.

The race instructions promised aid stations every two kilometers with water, Isostar (yuck), Powerbar Gel (edible), oranges and Coca Cola. I decided that I would rely on these rather than carrying my own stuff, except for a bottle of Gatorade that I would carry at the beginning of the run and then toss.  I planned to drink coca cola and water and eat gel. (Just the mention of that now makes me shudder. Seven and a half hours of eating pure sugar is gross). So the plan was to run between aid stations and walk through them as a reward.

The run course was three laps winding around the old quarter of Antwerp.  At each lap, runners pick up a wrist bracelet. When you have three, you enter the finish lane.  

When I left T2, the course did not seem clearly marked and I was a little worried I had missed a turn since I didn’t see any runners at first. Then the little road I was on fed into a stream of runners. I joined in and matched up with another woman, Liz, who was running at a similar pace. We started talking. She was running at about 6min/km (10 min/mile), which was faster than I had planned for the first lap, but I could keep up while still being able to talk.  She mistook my yellow Livestrong bracelet for a lap marker and thought that I had, like her, already run a lap. She kept telling me she thought we had already run 7km. I had just gotten onto the course, worried I had missed a part. At some point I realized she was simply a lap ahead of me.  I felt disappointed that she was going to finish sooner. She helped me to run well. I don’t think I could have pushed myself so consistently by myself. Actually, I know I could not have since I cut myself too much slack! And have a mental barrier about running faster than a 10 minute mile (6 min km).

My Garmin was giving me very strange pacing numbers, so I stopped looking at it. Talking with another runner who’s running at the same even pace makes the miles just fly by. It definitely helped me break through a mental barrier. I went from “I don’t think I can run this fast after swimming and biking” to “I’m doing it.” So we just kept going, walking through the aid stations and running to the next one.

I saw my husband and my two boys during the first lap. What a great boost that was. And besides, I could shed the hat I was carrying that ended up being too hot and unnecessary. I looked for them again throughout the rest of the race, and saw them just before the finish.

Next time I will comb my hair or something!

On my second lap, Liz’s third, we took a couple walk breaks. It’s funny how well we were motivating each other without saying a word. It’s as if we were passing silent messages of strength.  We got to the dividing point on the course where I would continue and she would finish. I teased that she should run one more lap to keep me from walking. (Silently in my head I’m thinking I can’t wait to get rid of you so I can walk).  Liz is saying to me, you better not walk or I’ll have to scream at you from the sidelines!  We gave each other a big hug and said goodbye.

I felt really strong. I had clearly reached my goal of finishing before the course closed. I just needed to keep moving, and here I was, one lap away.  I switched to cola at the aid stations and used the water to cool off. I tucked sponges on my neck, beneath my tri-suit. And squeezed water over my head. Shocking, but effective.  The aid stations, by the way, were NOT two km apart. I don’t know how they were organized, but they seemed few and far between.   

Bye Liz, hello Sue.  I continued running by myself and saw another woman, Sue. I paired up with her. She was celebrating her 50^th birthday and was eager to join her husband, who had already finished the race. She seemed a little out of gas and I asked her if she wanted to run the last lap together.  She was walking a lot and I encouraged her to run a little more and run a little faster between walk breaks.  She wasn’t quite running next to me, but just behind. I kept encouraging her. I wasn’t sure how hard to push. I didn’t want her to become discouraged or annoyed, and what do I know about racing anyway. But I thought she needed some cola and encouraged her to give it a try. She was discouraged about how tired she felt. She told me she had run a 2:10 half marathon but felt quite tired after the bike leg.  She kept telling me to go on without her and not to let her slow me down. But I had already met my goal mentally and I was enjoying running together. Helping Sue kept my mind off the blister that was forming in the usual spot on my right foot and the chafe on my inner thighs from my tri-suit that was beginning to bleed.  I liked running an easy last lap.

Me and Sue!

When we got to the finish chute I started to run as fast as I could. I put my hands in the air as I ran across the finish line and yelled as loudly as I could. 

I felt so happy to be done. Now I could sit down. My quads and my glutes were feeling pretty tired. Sue finished about five seconds after me.

 I turned to clap her across the finish line. We did it! 

Then I got my HUGE finishers medal and walked along the end of the course, clapping and cheering for the people behind me.

I met Sue’s husband and congratulated him on his finish. Then I spied my kids and husband and got some great high fives and hugs. 

Then we made the long walk back to T2 to pick up my bike. Ouch Ouch Ouch.  On the way to the bike, I met up with Liz and her husband and congratulated them. I thanked Liz a lot for helping run a good race.

After finishing the race I was suddenly really tired and hungry. I confess we stopped at McDonalds off the highway on the drive home. I liked the burger but the fries had no salt. So I didn’t eat any. Salt is what I was craving. That and coconut. I think the fatty acids in coconut attracted me.

I feel so proud of my effort and so very satisfied.  I raced without any injuries. I kept a patient pace on the bike and pushed myself harder than I thought I could – without blowing up. 

While out walking the dog the next day, I caught myself wondering how much faster could I finish next year. And wondering if there was something wrong with me since I preferred an enjoyable slower lap and running with another athlete to speeding off alone.  No. I’m just fine. My desire to push myself evaporated once I realized my goal (“just finish”) was in hand.   That was enough for this race.  I ran this half in 2:33, after swimming 1.9 km and riding 90 km.  Not so bad for an Athena! 

PS After the race, we went sailing for a couple days. This proved to be the perfect way to recover from the race.  I took a lot of naps - not much moving. Some swimming when I felt ready.  I wrote my friends:

About the half ironman,I learned the most important lesson about myself. I can do the most extraordinary things if I will only reach a little further, push a little more, and believe that it's within my capacity. Throughout the race, I had to control my negative thoughts that were telling me to quit, that the next stage would be too hard. When I focused on just what I needed to do at that moment, and kept myself moving forward, I eventually crossed the finish line. Dozens of people who started didn't finish. I FEEL SO PROUD OF MYSELF.

a great loss to distance running

Samuel Wanjiru died yesterday in Kenya. Pictured above, in 2007, he broke the world record for half marathons in my adopted home town, finishing in 58:33. He was the youngest Olympic gold medalist since 1932.

His death is a tragic loss to the sport of running and to all those who loved him. I wish that his fantastic sporting achievements could have brought him lasting happiness.

Sometimes I wish I were a faster runner. I am lucky though. I am happy whatever my pace. Rest in peace, my brother runner.

CPC - What a great time

Nearly There! - at 20 km

Going into this race I felt nervous about being "under-trained."  I woke Friday from an anxiety dream that I had showed up to start with neither running shoes nor shorts. Unlike previous the HMs I've run, I didn't follow a running plan specific to this race. I simply trained consistently, running mostly three times a week, longer on weekends. Rowing, cycling, swimming, skipping rope, and lifting weights.

My longest run in the last month was 8 km last week, and then at the end of January, I had a 10k run. I have to go back pretty far to find a decent long run - and all of those were races: I had a 15 km race in mid -December.  And then two back to back 15 km races in mid-November.  While I don't necessarily recommend this approach for a half-marathon, I felt pretty confident that my base level of fitness and typical training week would carry me through.  And it did.

Snelheid	8,864 km/uur
5 kilometer	32:40 (32:40)
10 kilometer	1:06:49 (34:09)
15 kilometer	1:41:21 (34:32)
20 kilometer	2:15:45 (34:24)
Bruto tijd	2:25:02
Netto tijd	2:22:49

Nutrition was pretty good in the week leading up to the race. Coming off an Italian ski vacation was a little tough. I had a head cold and was carrying the pasta I enjoyed during the week. No running or training. Just recovery to keep the cold from settling in my lungs.  I increased my carbs the last two days before the race and ran an easy 6 km on Saturday to loosen up.   I had looked at the course and programmed the watch for specific paces, dividing the course into thirds.  While in the start chute, I changed my mind and decided to use the watch to set run/walk intervals of 5:1, without selecting a target pace or heart rate.   I have a good idea of what I can do based on a 5km treadmill run and a lot of base training in my aerobic zone. Plus good race advice from Mark.

I have to compliment the organisers. They had enough porta-lets at the start plus a guy who was repeatedly checking that they were clean and had T.P.  High class operation.

I went out a little faster than I think I should have, looking at the splits now. I was just carried by the sea of people around me, and it was exciting.  I ran with no gear this time. No music, no camera, no fanny pack or hat or coat. I carried a water bottle that I tossed about half way through.  I carried five gel packs. One before the start and then one every half hour. That seemed to work okay, except I got an upset stomach after 15 km and I didn't want to eat anymore. I tossed the water bottle at that point too, realizing that between the aid stations and the bottle itself, I was probably drinking more than I really needed. Given how good I felt at the finish and the consistent pace, I think I made a good choice.

I used the intervals to coax myself to run as hard as I could for that five minute segment and to enjoy the walk break with deep breaths and a smile.  I swear I smiled the whole race.  There's a video compilation and I hammed for the camera.  Mark's advice about heart rate and pacing made me feel confident that I could run at near my max HR for the whole race without a problem, and I felt encouraged to let go of a pre-conceived pace that might have proved too difficult for me.  When the Garmin beeps at me to tell me I'm going too slow, I start to feel discouraged. This time, I just glanced at my watch and felt satisfied that I was running below 7 min/km.  Sometimes the watch said 5:30, sometimes 6, 6:30, but all the time I was giving it my best and encouraging myself to kick it up a bit.

When I realised I was making really good time (again, about 17 km or so), I experienced some difficulty breathing.  That happened again when I was finishing, so I went to the aid tent and got an inhaler with some allbuterol. That took care of the asthmatic wheezing and coughing I was experiencing.

Other than a little breathing issue, I had no complaints from my feet, legs or hips - neither during nor after the race.  hamstrings are fine! Hip flexors Fine!  A long run is hard on the upper body. And I had a sensitive stomach the next day. It felt like I had a stomach bug. Maybe I just don't like eating all that sugary stuff?

I felt positively inspired by and drew strength from the crowds.  I slowed to slap hands with every single kid cheering on the sidelines, even the silly little boys who withdrew their hands at the last moment and crowed in delight at their sneaky victory.  I also felt inspired by the runners who I saw helping each other through some hard spots. The walk breaks kept me fresh throughout. If you look at the last half of the video, I might not be running any faster than the people around me, but I daresay that I look a lot more comfortable.  And the intervals turned a long race in to a completely manageable task. Just five minutes. And I know I can run hard for five minutes!

I still have some personality defects to work through. I felt embarrassed telling people my finish time yesterday. And had to explain myself (new runner, adult onset athletics, used to be quite overweight, blah blah blah). When will I be nicer to myself? I had a great time, a great run. 2:30 is quite a short course limit. Fewer people will turn out with that. I am enough even when I finish last. Which I didn't this time. Almost 20 minutes faster than 2 years ago. Way ahead of the sweepers this time. And smiling and injury-free. Ready to get ready for Antwerp. 70.3. Now that will be fun!

Half Marathon! Ahoy!

I ran an easy 6km early in the day to keep it loose for tomorrow. I felt good and relaxed. My pace was too fast and steady for Odie to feel comfortable running with me on a leash. I was in the Dunes in the daytime, so he needed to stay on the line or I would get a fine and he would be a pain to cyclists etc. When we run on the beach, he's off the leash and can cool off in the water. I think he likes "intervals" better too - poke around sniffing and then gallop to catch up with me. I chose the dunes for some solid ground beneath my feet.

I have my race plan, which is to pace myself early and go hard for the last 5 km. I can run faster than I think I can. Rogier's proved that to me by getting me to run on the treadmill a lot faster & harder than I do outside. So, we'll see how this goes. There's a 2:30 cut-off and last year I just missed an official finish time since I let myself get rattled by the sweepers who start around 8 km telling the back of the pack they're too slow. 

I've eaten well today. potatoes and fruit and veg. looking forward to a good night sleep and a fun day. Two of my mom's sisters are coming tomorrow for a visit and I am so excited to see them. I'll be starting the race just as they're arriving and hopefully they'll get to see part of the race.

Here's the course.CPC

Stories from Rotterdam

Success in Rotterdam. I ran the marathon in 5:30. It was a fabulous experience. I was quite exhausted last night and spent the evening rolled in a blanket on the couch with my kids.


I will write more about the experience and post it. But I'm back at work this morning, hobbling around. Good news is no blisters or black toe nails. My right hip flexors are a little painful, and when standing I can feel a symphony of muscles, tendons and what not that hold my skeleton upright. Quite interesting to become acquainted with the miraculous body.

Running in the memory of Elham Mahdi got me through the most difficult parts of the run. I wondered if she played with dolls, if her mother dressed her for her wedding, what dreams she held - I asked her to see the Rotterdam marathon through my eyes. I thought of the three days of her suffering before she finally died of her injuries. With that in mind, the aches and pains and challenges of running a marathon were greatly diminished. I felt her anguish or what I could imagine of it. And when I had the opportunity for the TV news interviewing the last runners on the course, I explained that I wanted to raise awareness of the danger to children when they are forced into marriage -that was why I was wearing the yellow shoe lace around my neck decorated with a dozen colorful tiny plastic rabbits.

So, there's one of the many stories from Sunday. There are so many more!

Garmin Connect - Activity Details for City Pier City: 2:34

Garmin Connect - Activity Details for Untitled

I ran a personal best for the Half M in my new bra, without ill effects. I did however make a poor choice in running shorts. I couldn't find the shorts I really wanted to wear (they must be put away for the winter or something), and I grabbed an old pair I hadn't used in five years. As I ran out the house to catch the tram to the start, the shorts rolled up my thighs. I now have an awful rub rash and spent half the race hiking the damn things down.

I'm still processing the race and will reflect and write more later. One lesson learned is don't talk to the guy in the sweeper car. They "closed" the course at 14k and at 13K told me I was "te laat" - that my time wasn't going to be recorded. Closing the course meant that they took down the barricades and reopened the roads to traffic. I was only about a minute behind the official pace bikes bringing up the rear. But it took a tremendous toll on my spirit. To make it worse, this part of the course took me within a few blocks of my house. Part of me (a big part) wanted to quit in discouragement. But I pulled it out of my heart, decided that I would record my finish time even if the race officials didn't. And I finished the race. As it turned out, my time was recorded. I got home to find all the SMS messages on my phone. I wasn't too late at all.

I learned a lot about what mental attitude can do to spoil or enhance performance. I felt underprepared going in - I hadn't done any speed work over the winter, missed some long runs, skipped some mid-week runs, and had the problem with my knee. I am grateful to report that my knees felt fabulous throughout the run. Instead, I have a painful blister on my toe. That is NO big deal though.

When I had to decide there and then why I was running that race, I decided it was because I can - a lot of spectators inspired me. Lots of young kids were out cheering on this drab, cold and windy day. I saw a couple double-amputees and many elderly people who cheered me on.

The best part of running the race course behind the janitors was the cheers. There's something special about being tough enough not to quit. The cops held the traffic for me and the small group of die hards who refused to be one of the "Uitvaller", which translates as dropouts. There was a van to pick up the dropouts with that label on the side.

I also thought about the fact that quitting lasts forever. I did it.

ready steady....

I've planned my pace for tomorrow. My goal is to have my time recorded and finish under 2:30.  I picked up my race packet  - the race staging area will be lively and packed tomorrow.

The weather will be cold and windy. I sat with my son during his orchestra practice visualising the race, planning nutrition tonight, tomorrow and  during the race.

I have normal race jitters - which show up as negative self-talk. (haven't trained hard enough etc.). I turned around these thoughts to positive optimism.   This is after all only a training run for the full marathon next month!

I will violate the primary rule of racing - I bought a new running bra which I will wear during the race.  The one I have been using for long runs offer too much compression.  I don't bounce, but I can't breath either. Hopefully this one is a happy compromise.

I spent some time thinking about why I like to race. I only race against myself, mind you. But having a goal organises and motivates my training.  It is not possible to catch up in the  last-minute and "cram" the training  that is needed to adapt and improve over months.  This fact helps me build self-discipline and pride.

I also love the excitement of the fellow athletes and spectators. Mostly I train by myself. So a race is a rare moment to share an activity I love with others. And I love the diversity of participants.  I have learned unique lessons from every race.  Tomorrow I'll tell you all about my second half-marathon.

T-3 City-Pier-City The Hague

T-3 to Sunday's half marathon. I did a little speed work last night for 30 minutes and everything was fine. I wish I was lighter (and faster and .... ) 

October's HM was a Big Deal. Sunday is a celebration of a year of running races for me - this race was my first 10k), and I'm barely nervous. Again, my goal is to have my time registered - that is, to finish before the time limit of 2:30. That would mean a six minute improvement on my HM time from October. The weather will be cooler so I think I can do it "without too much sweat." I'm hoping my knees agree with me. I've been very nice to them, so they aren't "talking" back to me right now.
here's hoping!
Edited to add: I checked my finish time (see the photo above) I need to cut nine minutes!

First Long Training Run 11 April 2009

I ran 13 or 14k Saturday. It was fun. Only thing was I ran 5k on Friday since my mid-week runs got off by a day - so my knees were still a little sore even this morning - just going up the stairs. They were fine when I took a spin with a friend who hadn't been on her bike since Oct. Easy 27k. Earn those chocolates! Odie slept a lot today. He ran both Fri & Saturday and was, well, dog-tired.


Weekend Workout Assigned: 10k
Actual: ~13.5k
Time 1:47 HRM 148 average; 168 max
Pace: ~ 10k/60 min. I took walk breaks when I felt like it. First one after about 15 minutes. More frequent after the first hour. I stopped to chat with my husband and son, who had camped on the beach overnight to get a good storage spot for the Hobie Cat at the sailing club. Stopped at the end to chat goodbye to running buddy. I subtracted chatting time to arrive at the estimate, using a pace of 10k/60min (my last race pace - probably a bit generous); actual time minus ~20 minutes standing around talking. A lot of walking towards the very end.

Comments
I estimated the distance because I ran on the beach, without obvious landmarks. I based my estimate on a comparable pace on other runs where I know the distance. I realized Saturday morning that the GPS I wanted to carry lacked fresh batteries. I commit to better prep & planning for next week.

Weather & Temperature: clear and sunny; 20C - probably cooler when I started out.

Aches & Pains? My knees were a little sore immediately afterwards. They were tender climbing stairs on Sunday morning. Took 200mg advil & extra dose of fish oil. Felt fine during & after my bike ride on Sunday. My mid-week training schedule was off by a day due to family committments. So I ended up running my second mid-week run on Friday morning, rather than on Thursday. Next week I won't run the day before the weekend run.

Questions for the Coach:
1. I do not know how to pace myself using a time/distance metric. I have always trained with a heart rate monitor and by adapting to my current physical condition - perception of effort, breathing, fatigue, etc. Do I need to carry a GPS? Run somewhere else on a pre-measured route?

2. I want to increase my pace. The woman I am running with on Saturdays can run faster, but has been satisfied with my pace so far. I'd like to try to speed up. When/how do I work on this? Once a week on my mid-week run, I have been adding high intensity intervals - short sprints followed by walk recovery.

3. The Paris race features a huge hill. How should I prepare for it, considering I live in "the low country"? I have been running up a hill near my house and running up a long flight of stairs in the Dunes. Is this enough? Add in treadmill with incline?

Next Week's Planned Workouts

Sunday - 26K bike ride (done)
Monday - easy row - weights (when I get done with this post!) (DONE - skipped the weights)
Tuesday - 30 - 45 minute run (at least 5 K) HIIT - Swim laps
Wednesday - easy row & weights
Thursday - 30 - 45 minute run (at least 5 K)
Friday - easy row & sauna (rest before run)
Saturday - assigned training run - 5k

Begin with the end in mind

I've decided to run my first half-marathon. I had so much fun running my first 10k in March, the City-Pier-City in The Hague, that I immediately started looking for my next goal. A half-marathon seemed impossible. So I picked a 16 K race, La Grande Classique in Paris in September. Then some of my colleagues at work talked up the Amsterdam Half-Marathon. So I set a new goal and will use the Paris race as a training tool.

I am using these goals to help me achieve my ideal body weight. I will use this blog to share my training plans, my progress, and my trip across the finish line. To help me meet my goals, I've enrolled in e-coaching with Jeff Galloway.