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Greensboro Marathon – DONE

| cheriarmour

I have never been so glad to be done with a race in my entire life.

Following the conclusion of the race, I kept running, and ran directly into the medical tent, where I calmly informed the EMT that I needed fluids.

Here’s how it went down. 

Saturday morning, I woke up around 5 with a stomachache.  SHOOT!  So I ran down to the car, grabbed some Tums and a Prilosec, and waited for them to kick in.  They kinda seemed to, and by the time we’d made our way to a very chilly start line, I decided that I felt okay.  And off we went.

It was cold, but not unbearably so.  I’d dressed perfectly. A thin, long-sleeved Brooks top, a Brooks Nightlife Vest, stuffed to the gills with goodies, gloves, and 3/4ths tights.  On the feet were the Glycerin 11 (an excellent choice of a shoe), and some Smartwool socks.  When it felt like my hands were going to fall off, I palmed my boobs under the vest, and as silly as it seems, the warmth made the ride really comfortable.

I stuck to the plan.  About 6.5 miles in, I started with my first bit of nutrition, and the nagging tummy ache that had been bothering me started to flare up.  I tried everything to push it away.  I breathed the cool, fresh fall air.  I house shopped.  I focused on music.  But it wouldn’t leave.  By the time another 6 had passed, and it was time for more nutrition, I couldn’t do it.  I nibbled at another piece of Clif Shot Bloks, and the stomachache started up, worse than before.

15 Miles.

The stomachache was too real.  Katy Perry came on with ‘Roar’.  And I dissolved into tears.  I’m not sure if I’ve ever shared this, but I get hyper-emotional during races.  It’s an introspective period of time, and the thought of the message of the song, the stomach pain, and the fact that I was over halfway in the race got to me.  Get it together, Cheri.  Someone is going to see you crying and think something is really wrong. 

18.1 Miles.

I literally pulled over in a field, and the stomachache was just too much.  I barfed in a field.  Everything I’d eaten, all the water, and all the nutrition was gone.  A cop looked on, sorrowfully.  But I couldn’t give it up, I was only like 8 miles from the finish!

So I knew that I’d lost all my nutrition and all my water.  And the thought of eating was producing more vomit.  So I kept up with my water, and trudged through the last bit of the marathon.

I did it. 

It was abysmally slow.  I was a little sunburned.  But I did it, run-walking that last 8 miles or so.  Once I finished, I med-tented, explained to them what had happened, and let them check my levels.  I was fine, understandably a little dehydrated, and not feeling like eating ever again.

I finished.  I’m a two-time marathoner!! And upon an appointment with a gastro, I am totally ready for the next running adventure.

Marathon Couple

3 Days. (Question for my running buds.)

| cheriarmour

3 days until the Greensboro marathon.  I suppose it’s time to start making my list, my pyscho list of all the things I need.

But before then, I have a serious question.

It’s really quite horrid.

But last marathon, I wasted almost 10 minutes looking for a bathroom, and then executing the bidness, because port-a-potties horrify me in all sorts of ways.

There are a few precautions I can take to make sure this doesn’t happen. Like caffeine-free gels and Gus, or saving the caffeine for the very end so it barely matters.  But I saw a tip a few issues of Runner’s World back that recommended pounding a shot of Imodium before the big day.

imodium-coupon

For some reason, this really concerns me.  I don’t want to like, stop my body’s natural reaction to all the jostling, the nerves and the nutrition, but is it worth it to spare me a trip to the gross bathrooms and shave a little bit off my time?

 

Bull City Race Fest: A Review

| cheriarmour

I think today actually feels like the first day of fall I’ve felt since fall started almost a month ago.  I write to you from my apartment, zipped into a jacket, toes freezing, with that weird burny smell coming from the heat because I’ve barely used it yet.

Today, I participated in the Bull City Race Fest, Endurance Magazine’s race festival.  It was a fun way to get in a few miles in before next week’s 26.2 (eek) which looms at just about 5 days away now.

I was terrified.  I haven’t raced since the spring, and even though this was a 5-miler, nothing scary, and nothing I haven’ t done before, but getting back into it felt kind of like I was running a first race all over again.

Medal

The race featured a 1-miler, a 5-miler, and a 13.1, all winding through Durham, about 25 minutes from where I live in Raleigh.

  • The Improvements:  I don’t want to say “the bad” because there was really nothing bad about this race, especially for an inaugural year, which usually is a mess.  The only thing that kind of caught me off-guard, which could have been my fault, was that I was not 100% clear that the 5-miler didn’t finish where we started.  So, when I finished, I wasn’t aware to tell friends that I’d finished and I was on Duke University’s campus.  No big deal.
  • The traffic.  Almost 6,000 folks ran, and it created some congestion on the course.  I’m a little concerned for next year, which I’m sure will be bigger, especially if they keep it up with all the food trucks.

The Awesome:

  • The race was extremely well-organized.  The expo, the refreshments, the buses to transport us from the 5-miler line back to the start, everything seemed to come together pretty well.
  • The food trucks.  The race ended with a food truck rodeo that was pretty cool.  By the time we got to the trucks, literally every single truck was out of coffee, which would have been nice, especially considering the cold, but my breakfast biscuit and hash brown patty was tasting so right to my senses.
  • Packet pick-up.  Nice.  No complaints here.

    • And unrelated, it was good to see a ton of friends at the race from Raleigh and Durham, and I felt super lucky to run into some coworkers, one of whom won the whole dang thing, and two of whom were running their first half-marathons. How cool to witness that experience for someone else!

Francine Smith …

Quote | | cheriarmour

Francine Smith • 18 hours ago
The best fashion accessory/beauty aid anyone can get for themselves, bar none, is to keep themselves in the best physical shape that they can. If you can do that, you’ll always look great, no matter what you’re wearing or if you aren’t wearing makeup.

Found this in the comments of an US Weekly Article.  Preach!

Fleas.

| cheriarmour

By now, I’m absolutely sure you’ve met the newest member of the fam.

Marlon
Martin, post-vet to this day, he remains one of the most relaxed animals I’ve ever taken to the vet.

Martin, or Marlon, as he chooses to go by sometimes (Martin is very inspired by the works of the Jackson 5, and assumes the identity of one of the littler brothers,) has been nothing short of an absolute blessing in my home.  He’s cute, he’s sweet, and he’s a great lap cat, so even as I write to you, he’s sitting, watching, and purring in my lap.  But as a stray, he came in with a dirty secret.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Martin came to me as a stray.  Austin’s family got us the hookup, and Austin went and picked him up the weekend I was gone in New York that my grandmother passed.  It was such a sweet surprise to come home from a draining weekend to little Martin.  But!  I discovered Martin’s (Marlon’s) dirty secret.

I was petting him when I kinda noticed he was scratching a good bit.

Like, really good.

I flipped him over, where he was all white?

Fleas!  Left and friggin right, he had fleas everywhere.

I don’t do well with a few things.  NFL.  Fantasy football.  Lice.  Mushrooms.  And fleas, evidently, I have no tolerance for.  And the fleas sent me into a cleaning tailspin.

I tried Frontline.  Wasn’t working.  (Come to find out, fleas are kind of resistant to it). And finally, I called the vet.  Little Martin needed his kitten stuff anyways, so it was time.  And they told me I had to bathe him.  Have you ever tried bathing a cat?  It was really fun, lemme tell ya, and I don’t have vision anymore because he scratched both my eyes out when I dunked him in the sink.  While he ran around, traumatized, post-bath, I salted every soft surface in my home and vacuumed. And finally, I used this disgusting invention called a flea comb to literally comb the little parasites off my dear Little Martin.

I’m still hopelessly in love with my cat, and at the same time, terrified that there’s a nest of fleas in my hair.  At any rate, I think we got his fleas under control with a dose of Revolution, that bath from the depths of hell, and a thorough scrubdown of the home.  Ah, to be a pet owner!

The humble brag.

| cheriarmour

I did this the other day.
Humble Brag

I know guys.  It’s not quite the a humble brag, which is defined as, 
a brag statement artfully planted within a slightly deprecating statement; used in order to conceal pride that would otherwise be apparent by Urban Dictionary, but almost. It’s kinda like when you post a status about that 20-miler, but you do it under the guise of “Ugh omg, annoying Family Guy was totally on when I was running my 20-miler at an 8:47 pace. Gross!” What I did would slightly be considered the humble brag because I was sort of letting folks know I work out.  But it has a place.  As annoying at it is, the humble brag has a valuable place in health and fitness. 

The following morning, my alarm went off at about 5:20 am, and I briefly considered closing my eyes, and going back to sleep. But I remembered that I’d posted that I was going to Yoga, and then the thought of deceiving my friends and family, or not being accountable for what I’d said I’d do really made me feel uncomfortable.  Plus, I wanted to get my Yoga on!

So say what you will about people who post the details of their workouts on social media, and no, we’re not talking about you who posted about tying your shoes too tight, let’s not get into the minutiae of how your workout went, however, posting about your 5k, posting about nailing a pose in yoga, posting about hitting the gym 5 times instead of your usual 3, for example, is okay, and encouraging, both to others, (believe it or not, family and friends may be inspired by your actions), and it holds you accountable to a WHOLE LOT of people.  So keep up the humble brags.  Well, sorta, I don’t care if you’re gonna be douchey about it, but if it keeps you accountable?  Keep it up!

It’s time for another round of…

| cheriarmour

Weird, weird, weird stuff people search for my blog by.

For those of you new to this little game I play, it’s when I make fun of really weird stuff people search my blog by.  I can see it because some search engines will release that info to WordPress, and bless those who do.  Because it’s provided me with hours of endless entertainment.

Look, I’m not trying to embarrass anyone, but this is some good stuff.  Let’s explore!

Search Terms

  • is the way to spell shuga in the south sugar.  Did you seriously just ask that?  You think people spell things differently in the south?
  • carley swanson.  Who, if you’ll remember, guest blogged for me a while back.  Incredible runner.  Does not spell her name Carley.  Hey, Carly, you have a little admirer.
  • rub a chub. Whut? Ew.
  • hey its half off girl. Hey, I guess.
  • floppy boobs medium -huge -big. The boobs make a reappearance.
  • why do white people exercise too much. Lord.

And for the bizarre kicker, the one that kind of makes me question what you folks are into?

  • mel b toes.

    • I love you guys. Keep it up.

I saw the coolest thing yesterday.

| cheriarmour

When I first started teaching Zumba, one particular semester, (I’d started at State when I was in grad school) there was a pregnant woman who would always, always, come to my class.  She would wear this purple shirt, and hold her belly when the moves got a little too nuts for her.  It was almost her way of saying, “Chill out, not everyone in this class is 19, please respect that.”  It was a good reminder for me.  She would take it easy when she had to, she wouldn’t jump or anything crazy like that.  She always wore this purple shirt, and I believe she Zumba-ed til like 8 weeks before her due date.  She was safe, she seemed to know her limitations, and she stayed in awesome shape throughout her pregnancy.

“Isn’t that thing gonna fall out,” a few friends asked, astonished, when I’d mentioned it.

Cause that’s exactly what pregs wants to hear, while she’s afraid of eating fish, taking a sip of wine, and carrying a Birken that’s too big, that her baby is going to fall out of her vagina when she’s on the elliptical.  How else can we make women feel incompetent as mothers, folks, please, let me hear it!

But I digress.  I was driving home, I think from my own workout on Sunday evening, and was cruising down ridge road when I saw her.

The first thing I actually noticed was that she was wearing a cute top, I’m pretty sure from Lululemon, and it was in a cool color.  A kind of lime, and she shared my taste, as she was rocking the 3/4 running tights with it.  And then I realized, this woman who was cruising at a pretty decent pace?  Was a mom-to-be, probably well into her second trimester, and she was tearing up the sidewalk.  I’m inspired.

I now have no excuse to skip out on any of my workouts or any of my runs, if this mom to be can harness her inner goddess, well hell?! When is my excuse ever good enough?