Bitch, get it in gear! March 25, 2007
Posted by Carolyn Tang Kmet in Running.add a comment
I should be ecstatic now, five miles, averaged a 10:11 mile, with enough energy to hit the driving range after. But that last 11 seconds is driving me nuts. My mind says, “Did you really need that stop behind the bus stop in the 5th mile for water?” My body says, “I’m the one running this race, and yes, I did need that stop.”
Honestly, I probably would’ve been a little slower had I not been cut off in the last quarter mile. Why would you cut off another runner that close to finish? Well sure, I got cut off, I got irritated, and I sprinted less than a quarter mile just to show up that other runner. Selfish and terrible as that is, that’s what I did. Well, I suppose if you think about it, maybe I set her pace the whole way, and maybe that was her way to force me to kick it into gear.
According to training, the perfect race is to run your hardest and collapse in a heap at the end, knowing that you used every last bit of your body’s potential. I don’t know if I can actually get to that point. There is a significant part of me that wants to make sure that I have enough energy to sit down in front of a cheese omelette after a run of any distance.
Truly though, today was a beautiful day for a competitive run, and I don’t know if I would have done as well if it were a standard training run. Today, was my first time in shorts. Today, was the first time that I had someone looking for me at the start, giving me an encouraging hug and believing in me. Today was the first time I ran a run with disciplined training behind me, regardless of the nasty drunken mess I was two nights before. I suppose I learned a lesson. Losing that discipline cost me 11 measley seconds. It wasn’t worth it in the least.
I ran a damn good run, with enough energy left over to hit the driving range. But I didn’t do my best, and that’s what’s eating at me. I set low standards. My original goal was to hit a 10 minute mile on a 5k. Today, I hit a 10:11 mile on an 8K. On the marathon, I want to do sub-5, preferably somewhere close to 4:30. Today, I did 1/5 of that at the right pace and all I want to do is ice the foot and curl up. I had another talk with my sole today. Just get through one more season. But I say the same thing to one body part or another every year. I just want my body to stay in shape long enough to achieve my dreams…is that too much to ask?
I can feel myself getting there March 11, 2007
Posted by Carolyn Tang Kmet in Running.add a comment
What a weekend. A business dinner, friend’s birthday party, freelance deadline and impending 4-mile long run for the second week in a row. (I know in a couple months, four miles is going to be laughable, but right now, it’s still pretty intimidating. Think, Foster to Fullerton. It takes me as long to get home on the bus as it does to run the distance.)
This was the first weekend after committing to the Chicago marathon, so I had a lot of adrenalin built up, and quite a bit of celebratory alcohol in my system. The extra carbs and spring-like weather managed to get me out on the lakefront Saturday, but misjudgement on the whole layering thing slowed me down to a snail’s pace. Two miles at a 10:30 pace, and no extra energy to get me any further. Discouraging, but easily explained when Aunt Flo decided that Sunday was a good day to make an appearance.
After a night of insomnia and some shoddy writing (for the freelance deadline), I literally forced myself out into the sunlight for this week’s long run on Sunday. Not a single cell of my body wanted to be outside. My body wanted to curl up under the covers, whine and catnap. Even at this early stage, I know that none of these activities are conducive to 26.2 miles.
So I pulled out every trick in the book to get me on the path. I clad myself in running gear. I looked at the marathon course map. I weighed myself. I jiggled the bulge that has become my tummy. And when all that failed, I told myself that I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t think I could finish. That did it. There’s no one in this world who can tell me I can’t do something, myself included. Aunt Flo be damned, she was coming along for the ride whether she liked it or not. I was out the door, my ego leading the way.
Surprisingly, as soon as I hit the path, my feet took over. Apparently my feet are Swedish, not willing to take a stand in any controversy, but succeeding at their own thing. Once they felt the dirt, they just kept going, one foot in front of the other, with my unwilling mind and body in tow. By the end of the second mile, the rest of me stopped bitching. I didn’t even need a water break, I just kept going. Stopped a couple times, both times under 30 seconds, once to pick up a dropped iPod, the second to loosen up the laces on my shoes (right foot persists in falling asleep at about the three-mile point, which is great for pacing, but bad for subsequent miles), and ended up averaging a 10:10 pace over four miles. My best time ever. Okay, bring on the Shuffle.
Ready…set…set…set…. March 7, 2007
Posted by Carolyn Tang Kmet in Running.Tags: chicago marathon
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Took a big step today, and commited about $150 and the next seven months of my life, to training for the Chicago marathon. I can honestly say that one month ago, this was a dream. And today, it’s a goal. The question is, how did I get that last step to commitment?
I remembered how five years ago, I was 171lb. Zero physical condition, my diet was shot. And I decided I was going to do the AIDS ride. I’d found this crazy, pewter paperweight that said, “What would you do if you could not fail?” Since then, that paperweight has moved with me, gone through numerous heart-wrenching relationships, and gathered dust among the tsotckes lining my entertainment console. But I still vividly remember the first time I picked it up. I was in Galena, on one of those soul-searching, grounding, solo trips. And in that moment, I knew, I absolutely knew, that I was going to get it done. My fat self was going to get my fat ass on my bike and do 500 miles in 6 days.
In training, I lost 30 pounds, and I’ve kept 20 of it off since then. Today, I look at myself and I’m the same person: stubborn, driven, protective of myself, but I’m also conscious that we don’t live forever. That as we get older, our priorities shift away from ourselves and toward our families. And this is a state I look forward to. Last night, I realized I’m only 32, but I’m not getting any younger. If I don’t do this now, I may never do this. I may never be my own “first priortiy.”
And on the other side, I see how being mentally and physically in my prime impacts my overall awareness. By seeing my own faults and weaknesses, I am more patient with the faults and weaknesses of others. There is absolutely no question about it, I am scared. I am scared of failure, I am afraid of not living up to my own expectations, but there is also comfort in knowing that at least, at the absolute very least, I gave myself the chance. I’ve always said, the way to live is to die with the most stories, so even if my time is lackluster, my feet are shot, my ego burnt, at least I know I tried.
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