Riverfest on the Halifax 5k

Leading up to Saturday, I was anxious. My legs had given me trouble Monday and hadn’t started to really feel better until Thursday. The route for the Riverfest 5k was daunting, with the Dunlawton Bridge making up the entirety of mile 2. I was expecting typical May weather – hot and humid. Basically, I did not have high hopes for this race.

We arrived in Port Orange on Friday night around 8pm. We were staying with Mark and Shane, who were kind enough to host us even though Shane is due to give birth literally any day now. We ordered in Thai and sushi and spent some time catching up before Matt and I headed to bed around 10:30pm.

We were up at 6am and out the door at 6:30. The race venue was a new park – so new that the sod was still lumpy and potholed, which made the start and finish of the race challenging. We found parking without any issues and picked up our bibs. The weather was cool, breezy, and overcast. The humidity wasn’t inconsequential, but with temperatures in the low 70s, it was manageable with the breeze. When I caught sight of the bridge for the first time, my nerves increased.

As soon as we got to the water, I spotted a dolphin. I feel like it was a good omen! The causeway we crossed can be seen over my shoulder.

In fact, I went through a range of emotions in that half hour before the race. It was clear this inaugural race was going to be tiny and most of the participants were walkers, so I thought maybe I’d have a chance to place even if I walked a lot of it. Then I saw the bridge and had my doubts. Then I saw some of the runners who had been out on warmup runs come to the starting line and had more doubts.

My legs felt good, but not totally fresh. I did some lunges and stretched out on the railing along the Halifax River. When it was time to lineup, I started near the front, because why not?

I leap-frogged with the guy in front off me in the gray shirt for the majority of the race. More on that later.

The start was rocky. I struggled to keep my footing and not twist an ankle on the grass; once we got to the pavement, I sped up too much to compensate for the rough start and was running in the 7:40s. I had a moment of panic: I wasn’t sure what the heck was going on with my pace or what I could hold, and I didn’t want to burn out before I even made it to the bridge.

I managed to adjust my pace and completed the first mile in 8:48. My watch dinged just as I began the first ascent on the bridge. I was able to keep a pretty steady pace (sub-10). It was hard; my legs and lungs were burning, but in the typical “I’m running up a steep bridge” kind of way. I kept an eye on all the women already making the return trip, calculating my place in my head. (I realized later that I’m really bad at estimating ages – the women I thought were competition in my age group were out of my age group by a decade.) I let myself recover and kind of lope down the descent. At the bottom, we made a U-turn and immediately began the climb back up the bridge.

Not fun.

This part was harder. I managed not to walk, but it was a close thing. My pace dipped into the 10:50s, and when I hit the top and began the descent, my legs were jelly for longer than I’d have liked. But then the second mile dinged and I realized if I could finish the last 1.1 in less than 10 minutes, I could come in well under 30 minutes. So I shifted gears into a slightly faster pace and settled in.

Mile 2 was all bridge. I'm very pleased with my overall pace there.

It’s an odd feeling when your body engages and finds a good niche when it’s tired. It’s my favorite thing about racing.

The last quarter mile.

The last quarter mile of the race took us around the perimeter of the park, so I had a view of the clock as I entered that last lap. It was in the 26s. I would have let up in the final quarter mile if I hadn’t seen that; I knew I was on track. I gave it everything I had, which wasn’t much at this point. I felt depleted.

I felt like a newborn colt as I crossed the grass to the finish line – all wobbly legs and awkward limbs. That sod was the worst. But I finished in 28:25, 14 seconds faster than the Fast & the Furriest. 

My legs felt totally fine the entire time.

I collapsed (gracefully) behind a trailer. My brain wasn’t working yet. Matt eventually found me and told me they were posting results. He went to read them, and when he came back he told me I’d placed 2^ndin my age group.

To which I responded, “Are you joking?” He assured me he wasn’t. I said, “I might cry.” And when I looked at the photo he’d taken of the results page, I really did tear up.

Final results were 2/14 in my AG and 37/161 overall. When I saw how close behind me the 3rd place finisher had been, I was so glad I hadn't eased off my pace at the end.

The pent-up fear and doubt that had plagued me all week washed away in an overwhelming wave of emotion.

This week and this race were important reminders to me that I am still in recovery; no matter how good I feel most of the time, I need to remember that recovery isn’t linear. There will be hard runs and pain here and there. As I increase my weekly mileage, I need to give my body time to adjust.

The finisher's medals were super adorable. They were designed by a local high school girl! 

As I sat basking in my accomplishment, the man I had been running near the entire race approached me. He’d been in front of me for most of the race, although we bounced back and forth a bit on the bridge, and I finally overtook him in the last mile. He congratulated me on a great race and a consistent pace. I thanked him for pacing me. He said he was recovering from hip surgery and training for a marathon in Savannah, so he needed to practice on hills. I told him about my legs. It was a nice moment of solidarity that left me feeling warm and thankful for the running community.

My AG award was a specialty coaster!

Matt had a 6 mile paddle race after my 5k. He’s been paddling in an OC1 lately and he placed 2^ndin his division, too. After a long morning, we returned to Mark and Shane’s, where I took a nap before we all went out to get some celebratory ice cream.

I am still shocked that I was able to manage a sub-30 finish because my mindset was so messed up going in, and because of the bridge. As my mom pointed out, I was able to meet my original B goal of beating 28:39…even though I completely scrapped my original goals and my back up goals. 

This is another reminder that my mind needs to shut up sometimes and I need to trust my body. It can do hard things, and it is stronger than I think it is.

ABK

A Change of Plans

I am trying not to overreact, but my legs have been sore this week.

It started last Friday. Elizabeth and I completed our first planned week of "training". What I mean by that is that I had known exactly what kinds of runs I wanted to do all week and we successfully met that goal. (And we celebrated after with some ice cream.)

I had sweet cream ice cream, fresh strawberries, and a little drizzle of hot fudge - the perfect treat after a hot run!

Anyway, Friday called for two easy miles to end the week. My legs were noticeably tired, but they still felt pretty okay. They felt like they'd been challenged, but in a good way.

Last week's training runs.

Then on Monday, we did four miles, and my calves were tight. Actually, my left shin was tight and my right calf was sore. I feel like being specific here is important. I was able to run through the discomfort without a problem, which means - logically - that this isn't really a compartment syndrome issue. Also, with the CS, my legs would be so tight and painful I would have to walk, and the pain never lingered after my run, which it has been this week.

Monday's run.

High heat and high humidity have returned, so now I'm all worried my legs are only going to feel awesome in cool weather. But then again, we meant to keep the run slower and purposely slowing my pace always seems to stress my legs; once we started increasing pace at the end of the run, some of the stiffness faded.

It's probably fatigue as a result of increasing my mileage and pace last week. Still, it's hard not to overthink things! I've been on a positive trajectory, getting stronger and feeling better for weeks in a row. I think it makes sense that my legs would be in need of recovery after consecutive weeks of building mileage.

Despite the discomfort, we finished the run feeling strong overall.

I've been massaging my legs nightly all week and won't run again until race day. With a bridge-y 5k coming up Saturday, I really need to just rest and recover as much as possible; that includes getting these negative, fearful thoughts out of my head, too.

If my legs continue to feel sore Thursday and Friday, I'll drastically adjust my plan for the Riverfest 5k. I have a couple days to decide, but it's looking like "finish this race pain-free" is going to be the most important goal I can set...Because if I experience pain on Saturday, I'm not sure what it will do to my head.

ABK

In Which I Talk About My Size

Fair warning: I am writing about clothing sizes and therefore writing about what size I wear in this post. I don't usually talk about that kind of stuff. I'm not making any comment on body sizes in general in this post, but about how sizes in women's fashion are all over the place and my own experience with my body right now. If you don't want to read about what size clothes I wear or my thoughts on how arbitrary American sizing is, skip this post.

Also, this is long. Sorry.

This weekend, for the first time in ages, I went shopping. I had a list of things I'd been wanting for awhile, and took advantage of Matt being out of town for a race to have a girl's afternoon with Elizabeth.

At the top of my list was "holey jeans". I used to hate torn jeans because I don't understand spending a lot of money on clothes that are already destroyed, but the trend has brainwashed me over time and I wanted a pair. Even though I'm too old to shop there, I decided to go to American Eagle because I know their jeans fit me and jean shopping can be traumatic, so I wanted to go somewhere I felt comfortable and "knew my size". Oh, the irony.

At AE, I found jeans in two different styles that looked promising: the jegging and the tomgirl.

Jeggings on the left, tomgirl on the right.

I took one look at the jegging and I grabbed a size 4. I didn't think too much of it, except to realize that I was about to try on a size I'd never bought before. I was sizing up.

I didn't have a problem with fitting into a larger size, but I was wondering how my body had changed so much in a year without my noticing it, especially considering how in-tune with it I've been since surgery. I accepted the change in my size but felt a little thrown off. My other clothes all fit. I am very happy with where my body is right now, especially as I've been able to run again, and I just felt a little baffled. (Of course, I immediately assumed my body had changed, and not the sizing at AE.)

Then, I grabbed the tomgirl, and, in the same way I knew I needed a 4 in the jeggings, I knew I needed a 0 here. In fact, the 0 was bigger than the 4 I had hung over my arm.

Obviously the tomgirl style is more relaxed in the legs, but it makes no sense to me that the actual sizing would be different because even if the style is different, if you're size X in something at a store, you should be that same size across the board, no matter the style. But the waist of the 0 in the tomgirl style jeans was a good inch - maybe even 1.5 inches - bigger than the 4 in the other style. I pointed this out to Elizabeth; we both found it ridiculous. When I tried them on, both styles fit me.

(As I was writing this, I remembered this video I saw a few weeks ago about how sizing is ridiculous and lawless.)

Now, this experience came a week after I measured myself for my groomsmaid's dress for Scott and Robby's wedding. That day, I was a little upset that my waist was bigger than I remembered it being when I last measured it in...well, maybe way back in high school, to be honest. I looked in the mirror and suddenly, for the first time in months, was unhappy with what I saw.

And then I was upset for being upset, because like I said above, I'm very happy with my body and its abilities these days, and I'm confident in how it looks. I should be past being upset over arbitrary things like sizes and inches!

Literally the day after I measured myself I was over it and totally happy with myself again, but it was frustrating that putting a number on my body derailed my self-acceptance so easily, if only for a short time.

Back to jeans shopping. Because we went shopping so soon after the dress experience, I felt kind of inoculated to the shock of picking up a size of jeans larger than I'd ever worn before. Like I said, I was surprised, but I didn't experience the kind of self-hatred spiral that I may have in the past, before I really came to terms with my body. I didn't have a major reaction until I'd compared the two jeans and realized how absolutely and totally bonkers American clothing sizing is when it comes to women's fashion. I mean, I knew this before, but to see it laid out for me so clearly was almost funny.

Here we were, in one store, a single brand of clothing, a single type of clothing, and there was a four-size difference between the two jeans that fit me!

I ended up going with the tomgirl because I had wanted a relaxed, airy, comfortable jean for summer. I also branched out of my comfort zone and bought a lighter wash that I've ever owned. The rest of our shopping trip was uneventful; I found most of the other items on my list and we had Moe's for dinner. But I couldn't stop thinking about how messed up women's sizes are.

The fact that women have to play a guessing game every time we go shopping, and yet shopping is marketed as something women should want to do and have fun doing, is ludicrous. Shopping is stressful. If clothes don't look good we tend to blame ourselves instead of the fit or style. I had to remind myself that I'm not made to fit clothes; they're made to fit me. I'd love to see some kind of standard in sizing for women's clothes. I dealt with fitting into a larger size without an issue, but many women struggle with accepting the number on a tag - even though we know the number doesn't even mean anything.

My point is that I hope I remember this story the next time I go shopping and have to size up. Sizes are totally arbitrary and bodies come in all shapes and sizes. Every body is valid and deserves to be dressed in a way that is comfortable and flattering. What the tag says doesn't matter. Feeling confident, strong, sexy, cute, or whatever feeling you're going for in those jeans? That's what maters.

ABK