You got beat by a pregnant girl

A few weeks ago, I signed me and Hubs up for a 5k. I have been running 3 miles at least twice a week for this whole pregnancy (well, I was running farther and more often before this kid became legit GINORMOUS and decided that I don't really need my full and complete lung function anymore), so it didn't seem like a big deal. I like races, I love love love "free" t-shirts and I was going to miss two races I really loved doing last year (the Drake Half and Dam to Dam), so I decided to treat myself.

Hubs and me, pre-run, complete with giant, swollen preggo face.

The course was pretty flat and it was a super amazing sunny, 60 degree day - perfect for getting all kinds of sweaty and not finishing last.

You see, Hubs and I, we may be just a little competitive. Not with each other, but with all you people. You people with your fancy running shorts and tight abs and normal-sized ankles. And you people who are running with a crazed dog or two cranky toddlers in a stroller. We were not about to let all of you beat us. A few of you, OK. Most of you, yes. But ALL of you? Oh hells to the flippin' no, man.

This is what 37 minutes of running does to a woman who is 37 weeks with child.

I made the mistake of not warming up, so we had to walk the first few minutes. Throngs and throngs of people passed us, because who doesn't start a run by running? Hubs got nervous. I remained confident that we would not literally be the last people to finish.

My race goals: Don't finish dead last, don't pee my pants. Simple as that.

We started running and didn't stop to walk until about mile 2, when my darling bump got a little fiesty. One block later and we were back to running. We spotted a very nice woman who I had chatted up while in line for the bathroom pre-race. She had been sweet and talked to me about her grandkids. 

I decided she was the person I had to beat.

Hubs (who literally could have sped-walked and kept pace with my running), was on board with this plan and we kicked it into high gear (you know, for a lady ready to pop). My frenemy wasn't going down without a fight, though, and we passed each other a few times in the final mile before I went all out while she took a walk break. BOOM.

We beat that lady (and a surprising amount of other people!) by at least two minutes.

Disclaimer: even if I had finished dead last, I would still be proud as heck that I ran. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have had such a healthy pregnancy so far and to be able to still do what I love. It's a great, great thing and not something I take for granted. I just....am a competitive weirdo.

Not too shabby for a girl who (on numerous occasions in elementary school) would fake asthma attacks to get out of the Mile Run. 

In case you were wondering

I did survive my very first half marathon! What up.

I'll admit, while I was slogging through those 11-minute miles (for the record, it is not true what they say about slow and steady winning the race.  Apparently that honor goes to those who take it fast and ridiculous.), running the half sucked. Aside from seeing Hubs and my sister out cheering me on, that shit was not really my idea of a good time. I was slow and sore and cold.

But once I crossed the finish line, all that vanished. I can't wait to do another! Except, you know, faster. Less slow. Not sore. Neutrally temperatured. I'm looking at the next one for October in Mason City and am actively recruiting running pals and adoring fans.

Between this accomplishment and my new shorts with the built-in undies, I think it is safe to say: I am a runner!

High five me!

Gym teachers and lacrosse coaches of the past, take note

I'm the lamest runner of all time. I've been trying my darndest to "be a runner" for the past two summers, but I've been faking it. I've come to love running, but until today I'd never actually, officially run an entire mile without stopping to walk. (I know. This and the fact that I still have Christmas lights up (I KNOW) are my deepest, darkest secrets.)

I'd usually hit about an eighth of a mile before my lungs would just stop. "WE HATE RUNNING!" they'd scream. "HATE. HATE. HATE. We're done." and I'd walk a block, convince the ol' lung-a-roonies to try again and do another few blocks of running. Stop and go for a few miles three times a week. It did not help that Whipping Post had found its way onto my running playlist.


"Good lord, I feel like I'm dyin'" is not the most inspirational song lyric ever penned.

But lately, my legs have been getting tired before my lungs and today I ran possibly the slowest running mile ever recorded. But the point is, I ran it.

And, the first peonies on our street are starting to open up and we're so close to a four day weekend, I can taste it.

No complaints here.

Hot to trot!

We did it in 30 minutes!

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It's not a competition

Last winter, I promised myself that I'd run a 5k this year. This is a big deal because I have been known to get a wee bit melodramatic about running in order to avoid it. As a kid, we had to run the mile twice a year and I plotted ways to get out of the dreaded run (wrong shoes? Bad allergies? No water bottle? These don't work, FYI, kids.). As a competitive person with little to no athletic ability, I always hated finishing next-to-last with a 13-minute mile. I didn't get running, I didn't like running and I didn't like how red my face got when I ran. Why would I want to engage in activity that made my side hurt and made me look like a tomato head? Pass.

(True story: I joined the lacrosse team in high school strictly because I liked the plaid skirt. I had no idea how much running was involved. Turns out, the skirt was not awesome enough to keep me interested in hour-long practices that involved non-stop running.)

At some point, running started to sound less disgusting and more like fun. Now, with the help of Gaga and my running buddy, Hubs (aren't we so cute you could vomit? I know!), I've been putting in 2.5-3.5 miles each day after work. I still look like I've been smacked around and gone bobbing for apples when I'm done, but I don't hate running.

To celebrate this crazy flip of the switch, Hubs, his mom and I are running a Turkey Trot over Thanksgiving. The course is only 2.5 miles, so it's not the 5k goal I'd set for myself, but that's OK. I know I could do a 5k if only I hadn't missed most of the 5k season building a deck and bailing out a basement.

Here's the thing bugging me about my first running event: Thanksgiving is a family holiday and so I imagine lots of babykids and old folks at this run. It's a fun run and not a race, but I'm scared to death that I'll be beat by a gaggle of youngsters or nosed out by a pack of seniors. I picture myself huffing and puffing over the finish line and collapsing in the nearest chair (this is, after all, my post-run ritual at home) while sporty families congratulate grandma on her six minute miles and junior does the course once more for fun, this time backwards.

It's. Not. A Competition.

It's just people having a healthy start to Thanksgiving, but know this, fellow Turkey Trotters, there will be among you a gal who is new to this whole running gig and just doesn't want to finish last, covered in mud and sobbing. Goals are very important, you know.

I guess, what I'm saying is, please try not to look too disturbed when I get all jazzed about an eleven minute mile. I mean jeez, this isn't a competition or anything.

People of Earth, do not be afraid

A while ago, here on this blog, I declared my intentions to run a 5k sometime. I haven't been very good at practicing and I'm just now starting to run regularly. You go build a deck and a patio and work and run everyday, Mr./Ms. Big Shot. Not possible. Maybe possible if you are really organized and ambitious and if that's the case, whoopedydoodah for you.

Here is what running with me is like (if I ever ran with anyone. It's ugly so I like to keep it a solo mission):

• Feeling good. Leading with my chest, bopping along to Lady Gaga, audibly saying hello to people I pass. Smiling.
• (About the half way point) Struggling. Trying not to sink my weight into my rump, getting a tad annoyed at Lady Gaga, smiling at people I pass. Light to moderate ladylike glow going on.
• (Three quarters of the way) Dragging buns. Huffing, puffing. Breathing loudly at people I pass in what should be a "hi" but comes off as nearing some kind of harassment.
• (Home, done) My favorite part. Glowing like a lady of the night in church. Exaggerating my condition loudly to Hubs, the cat, the turtle - anyone who will listen. Flopping on the floor like a dying fish, being a huge wienie.

It will be a miracle if I can lock down these quirks before I run a 5k. Unless....is this socially acceptable? Maybe this is just how people run and I just wouldn't know because I don't hang with runners.

Lahve, lahve, lahve, I want your lahve

Oh, Lady Gaga. You're officially in my head.

As I'm starting to run more, I've found that I need some serious music slamming through my eardrums to get going. Lately, that means playing the three Lady Gaga songs I own at top volume on repeat for a mile or three.

Turns out, I Pavloved myself.

Today, innocently working at my cube, Bad Romance came on Pandora. Instantly, I wanted to run. As in, running sounded fun at that moment and, in fact, for the rest of the afternoon. The need to run continued until I hauled my sorry booty out into the cold and over to the gym where I hopped on a treadmill and busted through a run that had me at my top speed.

Yay science! Yay wigs! Yay sweat and lip-syncing!

Gulp

First, don't laugh. Second, prepare to be amazed.

I'm signing up to do a 5k. As in, I'm planning on r-u-n-n-i-n-g three-ish miles. Without stopping. Without muttering bad words. Without crying.

This, from a girl who refused to run the Mile Run in elementary school and who could (and almost does) survive happily on just cheese and crusty breads.

Luckily, headphones are allowed and my husband agreed to run at my pace, no matter how much it pains him.

We haven't officially signed up yet, but we will. It's kind of why I'm posting this. A promise is a promise!

Anyone have any suggestions for fun 5ks in Des Moines? That are flat?