Fairview Half Marathon

On Saturday, I ran my fourth half marathon for the year. I have never run the Fairview Half Marathon, but I volunteered for the 5k last year so I got a good price on my registration.

Of course, when I registered I didn’t expect to be battling this foot problem that’s plagued me since the Dallas Marathon. I haven’t talked much about my first running injury, partly I think because I’m in denial, and partly because I’ve still been able to run mostly pain free. I’ve tried to pinpoint what caused it, but more on that next week.

Let’s talk about the Fairview Half.

I started participating in the Active Joe races because the reputation for them is great. Word of mouth, through running groups and the local running community speaks volumes. Also since I live about an hour north of Dallas, to have a half marathon within about a half hour drive is wonderful!

My running friend and I headed out Saturday morning with different goals and expectations, but looking forward to another race together. I read that the course was hilly, but since I run on hills that didn’t concern me. Life also happened the past week when our dryer went out. My weekday miles were lower than usual, which helped control my heel pain, but I felt unprepared. My last double digit run before Saturday was the Rock ‘n Roll Dallas half. I planned to take a week (or two) off after the race to see if I could completely heal my plantar fasciitis. I also want to give my body a break from pushing and see if it helps drop the marathon weight gain and build speed by changing things up.

So basically I went into the race ready to be done. I know that’s not the way to do it, but honestly that was my feeling. But I didn’t let it change my race tactic.

But first, I donated some retired running shoes at packet pickup.

So I have a favorite shoe...

So I have a favorite shoe…and a problem apparently. 

The weather Saturday morning was perfect. I started  just ahead of the 2:00 pace group with an 8:45 first mile. By the end of the 2nd, I had my average down around 8:30, and that’s where I stayed until mile 8. The hills were no joke. There was a tough one at mile 2, and again around 6. But I focused on keeping my effort up. I spotted another monster uphill around 8.5. I willed myself to keep pushing, but as I crested the top I lost over a minute on my time. The wind had been sucked out of my sails. My legs were feeling like jelly and the four mile runs during the week sure weren’t helping me at mile 10.

By mile 10.5, everything was stupid. Stupid hills. Stupid foot. Stupid stomach. Stupid weight gain. The 1:55 group that I passed in the 2nd mile passed me. Somewhere in the 11th mile, I saw a runner down, with an ambulance and other emergency vehicles around. My perspective instantly changed to a prayer. “Please let him be okay, Lord.”

For the final mile, I pushed through with what I had left. My foot let me down and affected my gait for the first time in a race. I began to run/walk/hobble my way through the last ten minutes and was so glad to see the finish.

Not pictured: the chocolate milk I downed as soon as they handed it to me.

Not pictured: the chocolate milk I downed as soon as they handed it to me.

The medal is huge, and a nice windmill spinner as a bonus. Even my kids commented on how big it was. The mini bundt cake was pretty great too! My official time was 1:58:29 (pace 9:02) which was slower than I wanted, but not bad considering my late problems in the race. It further enforced the idea that I need a run-break to heal. I am glad l managed to stay under two hours considering my problems.

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Later that afternoon (after a shower, ice, and compression) we did some shopping.

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Now I’m not limited to boring hours on my stationary bike. And since we spent money, my frugality won’t let it get dusty. An added bonus: Sunday afternoon my husband and I went for a ride together. He helped me build confidence, because it has been a few years since I rode a bike. My foot didn’t hurt after an hour of riding, but boy my seat sure did!

Oh well, it feels good to be moving!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A Goodbye to My First Running Shoes

It is time for me to say goodbye to you, my New Balance 759s, after a two-year relationship.  I thank you  for all the miles you’ve carried me through.  You were my first pair of “real” running shoes bought from a running store.  It was a move to show myself I was serious about running.  I’d say “mission accomplished.”

My First “Real” Running Shoes

I had finished my first two 5K races, and nervously put a half marathon on my radar.  For the long miles in my future, I sought you out – the perfect fit for my long, skinny foot with just the right amount of cushion.

I thank you for getting me through twelve weeks of training for the half marathon.  We even trod out our first trail race together (and discovered we were in over our head) .  For all the aches and pains I had from long runs, at least none of them came from my feet.  Then you carried me through the finish line of that first half marathon in Dallas.

I knew it wouldn’t be long before we would need to part ways, so I bought a replacement pair of 759s to give you rest.  It just wasn’t the same.  When I noticed a new pain in my leg, though, I knew it was time to retire you from the regimen of running.

But I couldn’t bear to part ways, so I moved you over to “comfy shoes to wear with track pants.”

After weeks of continued running, your successor (my replacement pair of 759s) started wearing down.  It had been one year since I made that first trip to the running store, and I searched for another pair.  I checked shoe guides and websites, and I could not find a size 11.  I went back to my running store to discover you were replaced with a new model.

I bought the comparable model, the 880, but there will never be another shoe for me like you.  You had become too worn to wear for everyday use, so I moved you over for a season of gardening.  But, alas, after two years of use, your tread is gone.  It is time to wish you a final farewell.

Rest in peace, my New Balance 759.