Run to Your (Funnel) Cake and Eat It, Too!

As almost every runner can probably attest, there are times when the need to do a training run conflicts with something else we want to do. You know: “Oh, this really fun-sounding thing has come up! Oh, but I have to run (insert number here) miles today/super early tomorrow morning/etc.!”

So how do we work around a situation like that? We can decide (begrudgingly – let’s be honest here) to log those training miles while foregoing the other plan. Or we can skip the training run – *gasp!* – in favor of said other plan, which most likely has absolutely nothing to do with exercise.

Yeah, sometimes these two options are the only ones we have, and there’s no way to work around it. But what about a third option? This option is about finding a way – no matter how outlandish – to combine running plans and other plans. A happy medium, if you will.

I ran across (pun somewhat intended) such a situation two days ago, and here’s the brief run-down (again, pun somewhat intended) of how it all turned out:

“Hey, I have to do 4 miles of hill training this afternoon.”

“Oh, but the fair is today. And I really want to go to the fair…and eat fair food!”

“Wait a minute. The fair is exactly 4 miles from my house…along a hilly route.”

“I’ve got it! I’ll run to the fair! YESSSSSS!”

And so I did.

Some rural scenery (complete with a hot air balloon) between the house and the fair

Mom did, too.

Woohoo!

And Dad drove to the fair after work so we could hang out, eat that tasty fair food, and then drive home. A most excellent plan.

So you see? It is possible to run to your (funnel) cake and eat it, too.

Another Stellar Mother/Daughter Race

Once upon a time (Aug. 23, to be precise), Mom and I ran a 5K together. Actually, it wasn’t just a 5K; it was a very special occasion.

For Christmas last year, I gave Mom a coupon to run a 5K together (registration fees on me, of course). And I mean together every step of the way, the same way we had run the 2013 Pittsburgh Half Marathon.

So Mom selected the Amos Herr Honey Run 5K as our mother/daughter run. I had run it twice before, and she had run it once. It’s a unique race in that it’s always held on a Sunday evening – and each race packet includes a jar of honey. Win!

I admit, though, that I had an ulterior motive for this race. Yes, of course I wanted to spend 3.1 miles running alongside my mom, but I also wanted to see Mom PR. I had no doubt that she could! So she and I decided to do a practice run or two on the race course in the weeks leading up to the race.

Over the summer, there had been road construction on part of the course, but I figured it would be completed by race day. After all, construction crews had all summer to do whatever they had to do. So Mom and I did one of our practice runs on that route, thinking that it would be completely clear of construction. Well, we ended up running through a pretty in-depth construction site – complete with a few dirt mounds to cross. Oops.

It was after that experience that we got word from the race organizers that the course was to be slightly altered this year. Oh, good to know. Armed with the new map, we tried it out the Wednesday before the race. During that test run, Mom got an unofficial PR with a time of 31:21! Those are always nice, and it made us feel pretty good about the possibility of a repeat – and official – result during the actual Honey Run.

On race day, the weather was beautiful – possibly a little hot, but definitely bearable. Mom and I arrived ready to go at the park that serves as the race’s beginning and ending points. We picked up our race goodies, dropped them off at the car, and got a picture with my co-worker pal Karl and another friend:

A fun bee friend!

The cool thing about this race is that hundreds of people run it each year, but somehow it’s still easy to find others you know in the crowd. Mom and I happened to bump into a group of my dad’s co-workers and a group of people Mom and I know from Dayspring.

Mom and I had plenty of time to get warmed up before taking our place in the cluster of race participants at the starting line. After the Pledge of Allegiance and a prayer, we were off.

My goal for the race was to help Mom keep a pace that was slightly faster than average but that would leave some gas in the tank for a final push at the end. To that end, I was hoping to keep us at just under a 10-minute-mile pace, but we wouldn’t know for sure what our pace was until the 1-mile mark (since I don’t own a Garmin – and am torn about whether or not it’s worth it to have one).

So we were running along pretty early in the race, totally unaware of our actual pace, when another runner remarked to his running buddy, “OK, we hit a half-mile at 4:30.” So that meant we were on pace to run nine-minute miles – much faster than Mom and I were planning! “If that guy is right,” I said to Mom, “then we’d better slow down a bit.” We did, and it was worth it in the long run…literally.

We hit the 1-mile mark at about 9:45. We were on pace for Mom to PR, but it was too early in the race to make any predictions. Plus, the sun was blasting, and it was pretty warm out. There was a water station about a half-mile later, and I asked Mom if she wanted to swing by. We both decided we’d be fine without, so we ran past the water station and continued on in our quest for Mom’s PR.

Other than the water stop conversation and a few other minor chats here and there, we didn’t talk much along the way, but just being together while running was priceless.

When we hit the 2-mile mark at 19:something (I don’t remember the seconds exactly because it was a few weeks ago), I knew that barring any sort of major slowing down, we’d finish with Mom’s fastest 5K time. Yahoo!

Shortly after the 2-mile mark, we crested a small incline, and I said to Mom, “It’s all downhill or flat from here!” I didn’t, however, state the obvious, which was that there was an exception to that statement: The course ends on an uphill. But since we had both run the race before, we knew to expect it.

Running strong, Mom and I re-entered the park and enjoyed a bit of the flat terrain before churning our legs up the final hill. By hill standards, it’s not a huge one, but any sort of incline at the end of a race feels major. But we turned on the jets and sped by a few runners before crossing the finish line together – such an amazing feeling!

My watch read 30:18, and the official results gave us 30:20 (not sure how that happened since I started my watch as we crossed the starting line and stopped it as we stepped on the finish line). But in either case, Mom PR-ed! And she PR-ed by more than a minute! And we got to experience it together! Such a great day.

Yeah! We did it!

As our result sunk in, we grabbed bananas and water and were able to catch up with Dad’s co-workers and our Dayspring group. It seemed like everyone had enjoyed the race.

The Dayspring crew (from left): yours truly, Mom, Becca, Caleb, Lukas, and Noah. (Picture provided by the Snellers)

Caleb was first in his age group(and fifth overall), Noah was third in his age group, and Becca was second in hers! A great day all around!

Caleb, Noah, and Becca displaying their awards. (Picture provided by the Snellers)

With our sweat drying, Mom and I decided to head out…but not before grabbing a celebratory treat: hot fudge sundaes from an on-site food truck!

A proper celebration, to be sure

Congratulations on the personal record, Mom! You earned it, and I’m so blessed to have made another running-related mother/daughter memory with you. I love you!

If at First You Don’t Succeed…

…sign up for your second marathon!

The 2015 Pittsburgh Marathon – my first marathon ever – didn’t exactly go as planned. (See that picture above of me walking? Yeah…never in a million years did I think that would happen.)

Since then, I’ve experienced pretty much the full range of emotions: I’ve been angry, I’ve smiled at fond moments (like people I talked to or the beautiful scenery I saw), I’ve cried (as recently as a few days ago), and I’ve laughed at some of the funny things that happened (like how I dry-heaved to a repulsive extent right before the finish line). I’ve been back and forth (and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth – you get the idea) about whether or not I quit on myself by deciding to walk a good portion of the race.

So did I quit on myself? Did my body quit on me? Did I not really quit? The jury’s still out on that, but I suppose it’s kind of a moot point at the moment because it’s time to look forward. It’s no secret that I’ve been wanting another shot at Pittsburgh. I mean, I’ve really been wanting another shot at it. And so I’ve realized: Quitting doesn’t mean getting knocked down; quitting means staying down.

When I was 2 or 3 years old, my parents bought me a tricycle. I loved that thing half of the time. Pedaling down the driveway was so much fun, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not pedal back up the driveway. It would frustrate me so much. I’d cry. I’d scream for my parents to take the tricycle back. I’d try and fail again…and then scream and cry some more. But I kept at it (much to the dismay of my parents’ eardrums, no doubt). And one day – after much sweat and many tears – I finally made it. It was one of the best days of my young life. Had I quit, I never would have known that incredible feeling of accomplishment.

Perhaps a marathon is my adult version of that tricycle. I didn’t get it the first time. But I am not a quitter. I’ve never been.

So nobody ask me to hang out on May 1, 2016. I already have plans. I’m coming for YOU, 2016 Pittsburgh Marathon!