Category Archives: Races

marathon, half marathon, aqua jogging, pilates, baking

An inspired mom’s day perfection

It has been 214 days since I last ran a race. I haven’t been itching to get out there. Some of my runs have been serious struggles. Mental struggles more than anything. They haven’t been the great fun they once were. In fact, it was only just this week that I had a run I thoroughly enjoyed from tip to tail. The weather was perfect, not too cold, not too hot. The speed wings were soaring. My breathing was heavily laboured. My eyes were focused forward. There was no stopping, just go, go, go.

Both Big Ring and Little Ring have been champing at the bit for me to get back to my racing roots; Little Ring mostly because he remembers the juices he used to get at my races. But personal eagerness hasn’t been there.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I switched roles.

Yesterday, I got up early.

Yesterday, I went to the race start.

Yesterday, I cheered my beautiful niece out of the gates and back to the finish line.

My 25-year-old niece ran the Shoppers Drug Mart Run for Women 10 km race at Westbrook Mall near UBC. She used to be quite active in the running scene back in high school, but after an extended hiatus only began running again two months ago.

I made a sign.

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We got laughs 🙂

I cheered for all the runners: “Have a good run! Run hard! Run fast! Run smiling!”

I nearly peed my pants when I saw my niece pass by, jumping up, clapping so hard, super excited.

Little Ring was cheering too: “Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye! …” He totally sounded like the pelican from Finding Nemo.

When I saw my niece at the race clock’s 57 minutes, I knew she could see the finish. Her face was hard and focused. The muscles in her arms were flexed tight. Her body was perfectly positioned. Her legs rotating with impecable cycle.

So fast.

So strong.

I started jumping. Little Ring was clapping. She was laughing. All of us smiling.

The clock had just ticked over 58 minutes when she crossed; her goal was under an hour. Oh my gosh, the pride this auntie had for one of her first littles, wow, my heart was near bursting!!!

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So, so, so proud!!!

And that, my friends, was the inspiration I needed.

MOTHER’S DAY RUN:
• 10:30 a.m. BG before: 6.4
• Temp. basal: -50% 1.5 hours (started 1/2 hour before)
• Fuel: 4 dried apricots
• Time: 39:54 minutes
• Distance: 6.29 km
• Average pace: 6:20 min/km
• Workout:
– 10 min warmup: 6:20 min/km
– 10 x 1’ fast, 1’ easy: 4:39; 4:34; 4:56; 4:35; 5:26; 5:16; 4:51; 4:48; 4:38; 4:30 min/km (fast)
– 10 min. cool down:
• 11:30 a.m. BG after: 6.1
• Temp. basal: +50% 1.5 hours

To kick off Mother’s Day, Little Ring and I went out for speed intervals this morning; he’s training for a cycle race this summer 🙂 and me for what may come. It was fantastic. Again, I felt my speed was great: Little Ring kept me in line; my fast twitch muscles cycled my feet with optimal turnover; and the rest of me surged with a smiling lightness.

It was Mom’s Day Perfection!

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Instead of celebrating the day in a loud, over-crowded, stuffy, over-priced restaurant, I suggested we have a Parisian-style picnic with supplies for making baguette sandwiches obtained from our local bakery and deli. And because it was cool and grey at the lunch hour, we transformed our living room into a bistro and had the most lovely, tasty, un-stressful, super smile-worthy indoor picnic.

It was Mom’s Day Perfection!

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And then to cap the day, we went into the city for a park adventure and the most tasty afternoon ice cream treat at Earnest Ice Cream. I had my go-to Whiskey Hazelnut (I sample and sample but always go for the same). Little Ring had Seriously Chocolate (and it is!). Big Ring had Blackberry Cheesecake (Super decadent. Super good.)

It was Mom’s Day Perfection!

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The boy’s first with Earnest; he’ll be back again!

This boy makes me want to do everything better: running, schooling, adventuring, ice creaming, everything ❤

And so much of the goodness in me is this woman, which I spent the full day with on Friday.

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Love! Love! Love!

Together, they have made me the best me!

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Huge credit to this man for helping to make this day the full specialness it is ❤

Happy Mama’s Day everyone!

Medtronic: Third Time’s a Charm

They picked me! They picked me! Ohmygawd, they picked me!

Okay folks, I have had this news bottled up inside me, desperately wanting to burst free for over a month now. I have so greatly wanted to share it, but two factors kept me from all out spilling the beans. First, I thought I would wait until it was officially announced, and second, silly me decided to take a two-part, condensed organic chemistry course over the summer, which is taking ALL my time. But with my second to last exam completed as of Friday, and my brain far too mushy to delve straight into finals mode, and procrastinating from finishing the two lab reports due this week, now is the perfect opportunity to gush. Are you ready for it? Like, really ready? Okay……..

Twin Cities in Motion and Medtronic Philanthropy chose me – ME – to represent at this year’s Medtronic Twin Cities 10 mile race as a Global Hero!!!

A Global FREAKING Hero!!!

That means: fully covered airfare for Big Ring and I to Minneapolis in October, hotel covered, race entry covered, (if Big Ring was a runner, he, too, would have been granted a race entry), meals, networking and more – all covered!!! Oh yeah, and a watermelon sized ego with the new label Global FREAKING Hero!!!

Eeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Eeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Every year, since 2006, Medtronic has selected a group of runners from around the world, sporting various medical devices, to run this race. For those of you who don’t know, Medtronic is one of the major insulin pump distributors in North America, among other things.

I first heard about this program when I was on maternity leave two and half years ago and thought, wow, what an incredible opportunity. I’m a runner, I have diabetes, I have an insulin pump, I’m perfect. It took three tries for the judging committee to realize my perfection, mind you, but given recent events, this year is surely the most perfect year of all.

I’ve never really considered myself a hero, and most definitely not a global one. I have diabetes, that’s it. I’ve lived more of my life with diabetes than without, that’s it. I’ve run marathons with diabetes, hiked mountains with diabetes, dragon-boated lakes with diabetes, that’s it. I’ve traveled the world with diabetes, climbed up and down the Eiffel Tower steps with diabetes, dipped my toes in the Mediterranean with diabetes, cycled the Belgian cobbles with diabetes, that’s it. I’ve been pregnant with diabetes, given birth with diabetes, parented with diabetes, that’s it. I’ve had a successful career with diabetes, and have gone back to school in pursuit of a new career with diabetes to help others with diabetes, that’s it.

Because I can.  (L-R-L) Vernazza, Cinque Terre; Paterberg, Belgium; testing BG in Central Park, New York; Police Challenge 10 km, Abbotsford; Little Ring; Little Ring in my belly.

Because I can.
(L-R-L) Vernazza, Cinque Terre; Paterberg, Belgium; testing BG in Central Park, New York; Sibling Show Down, Police Challenge 10 km; Little Ring; Little Ring in my belly.

But the thing is, many of those things my parents were told I would not be able to do because of diabetes.

And while I am so incredibly proud that I have done all that, and intend to do way more, life with Dear Diabetes isn’t like life without. I’d be lying if I didn’t say this disease hasn’t required incredible amounts of preparation and monitoring to make the above possible. And even with the scrutiny I put myself through daily to ensure tip-top control, it’s not always possible. The disease sometimes wins.

Like that time I climbed down the Eiffel Tower steps at about 11 p.m. at night…

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On top of Eiffel Tower

The sky was black dark but for the tower’s glowing yellow lights. My legs were becoming shaky and my vision was skipping a few steps. At first I thought I was just tired, but soon realized that nope, it was Dear Diabetes reminding me she was there.

Always there.

Dear Diabetes: the accessory of my life.

Dear Diabetes: the accessory of my life.

Yet still, she does not define me and she never will. I will continue to push the boundaries of my body with diabetes. I will continue to explore the greatness of this world with diabetes. I will continue to push pass the diabetes naysayers and their annoyingly pitiful eyes. I will do whatever I possibly can to show one of the most important boys of my life that superheroes can have diabetes too.

So yeah, I am kind of a big deal – a Global Hero big deal!

super duper...

Eeeeeeee!!!!!!!

* I’ll be running the Medtronic Twin Cities 10 mile on Oct. 4 with 24 other totally awesome, and I am sure super inspiring too, Global Heroes. This is the 10th anniversary of the Global Heroes program. Stay tuned for more updates!

Mama and Little Ring style… postponed

So where were we? Ah right, I had just conquered a huge 10 km personal best, but still had 400 metres to go…

I’m not going to lie, it was slower. Significantly slower. And that was planned.

You see, I had a little boy waiting for me at the top of the hill, probably about 200 to 300 metres from the finish. Every race this boy has been at the finishing chute cheering for me, clapping, getting all excited to see his mama. But this time was going to be different. In my head, in my heart, (something that was not shared previously) that last 400 metres was to be dedicated to my Little Ring.

More than just a spectator.

More than just a spectator.

Little Ring has been watching me run since before birth (see picture below). He’s attended all of my races, and has accompanied me on a few of my training runs too. And at the First Half, when he spotted me coming down the finishing chute, like the other races, the smile on his face was mega watt excited, but this time it was different. The mood changed the moment I surged past. With my head still turned his way I could see the intense disappointment in him as he reached his arms out to me and started to cry out. He wanted to run. He wanted to run with me. He wanted to be a part of the finishing experience. And it was in that moment that I decided he needed to be more than just the best spectator ever.

The face that keeps me going.

Even in my belly, he was there.

And so, for this race, my plan was to run over and grab his hand and finish the race mama and Little Ring style. That was the plan. But as is the case with most toddlers, things don’t always go as planned. For the first time in Little Ring’s spectating career he was not lined along the finishing chute as I came through; nope, the boy apparently couldn’t be pulled from the playground nearby.

Even dressed in his sweats (and under his jacket, his cycling jersey) ready to run.

Even dressed in his sweats (and under his jacket, his cycling jersey) ready to run.

His racing day will see another day. As for me, it was a solo finish.

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Race recap: They say 10.4, I say 10.0

Wasn’t it just the other day I was shouting to the world PERSONAL BEST! PERSONAL BEST! PERSONAL BEST! Why yes it was, and last Saturday I was singing those glories again.

Some may say this one has a stain of stipulation to it, and this is my response to them:

You say 10.4, I say 10.0. PERSONAL BEST BABY!!!

Seriously

Seriously, who designs a 10.4 km race anyway? Seriously? The 5kers got 5k, I deserve my 10k. I earned that 10k.

Last Saturday I ran the Vancouver Hot Chocolate 10.4 km run at Stanley Park, and wow, what a difference a year can make. When I ran the inaugural run last year it was a miserably cold day; I blew myself out in the beginning of the run; I expended far too much energy early on weaving around other runners; and at about 7 km in I was experiencing that ugly feeling of nausea and was listening to that nasty little chorus of “You might as well quit!” singing Van Halen style in my head.

But this year was different. I wasn’t planning on racing. Sure, I was intending to put a solid effort in, but racing was not top of mind. In fact, I was really only planning to run hard for 10 km; the last 400 metres was meant for something someone special.

And maybe, just maybe, it was that that enabled me the incredible run I had.

Still, at the start line I situated myself closer to the front than last year; I did not want to waste needless energy weaving. I made sure to get a good, solid dynamic warmup in before the go. And when we were unleashed, I made an effort to hold back on my pace. I may not have been intending to race, but really, can you take the race out of this girl???

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The day was so close to the kind of day I had a few weeks ago at the Vancouver First Half. Although there wasn’t the endless rays of god lighting or the spooky fog hovering the path this time, it was such a beautiful morning to be running. The sun was shining warm, but not too warm, over the cool crisp rising up from the ocean. The city’s greens and blues were so clear and so vibrant. Even if I was having a crummy run, I’d be hard pressed not to smile at all the beauty around me.

And because the route covered a portion of the route from the First Half, I was able to find my happy zone pretty quick. Coming off of such a great race, I channeled those endorphins; I pretended my favourites were there with me, all of us being accountable for pace; I pretended it was the first half of a half; I pretended I was the wind just like the daughter of one of my favourites in her first run two weekends ago. And just like that run, I left the music at home, but this time, I had the melody of a three-year-old singing his ABCs while strapped next to his sister in a double stroller with dad at the helm; that was pretty awesome.

And hey, look! That guy shot out of the gate and passed me right off the hop, but look who’s passing him now. And hey now, there’s that chick who was a super speedster too, but is now looking like I did last year struggling even to jog. And oh my greatness, I’m finally gonna pass my pink camo-legged carrot. (Uhmmmm, doesn’t pink camo kinda defeat the purpose of camouflage???)

But wait. Noooooooo! My shoelace is untied. Are you freaking kidding me? I never have shoelace coming undone issues. And mere moments before I’m to pass my carrot, the girl I’d been trailing for the better part of the run, but who I’d been gaining on and was finally ready to pounce over, and my bloody shoe comes untied. Not cool shoes, not cool at all.

So. This could have killed the momentum, it could have slowed me down, it could have sent me spiralling. It didn’t. Yeah I had to stop and retie and nearly took out a couple walkers doing so, but even with my shaky fingers, I was back running again in seconds, pushing my pace, getting back into position, overtaking that carrot of mine.

Nowhere along the way was I feeling any forms of struggle. I had no nausea. I had no pains. I was not overheating. I just kept going, my pace kept solid, I kept smiling. And you know what I am still smiling. Because when I looked at the time on my Garmin for the first time in this race about 500 metres to the 10 km mark, the numbers displayed had my eyes out of their sockets – 49 MINUTES, SOMETHING SECONDS!!! H’oh my gawd!!!!

All hail the run gods!

All hail the run gods!

(I hope I never lose that feeling of that moment of sheer, blissful, proud excitement.)

And when I crossed over 10 km: 52:04!!!!!!!!! PERSONAL BEST! PERSONAL BEST! PERSONAL BEST! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!

RUN FOR HOT CHOCOLATE:
• 9:45 a.m. BG before: 5.6
• Temp. basal: -70 per cent (1 hour)
• Carbs: 3 shot blocks, no bolus
• Distance: 10.0 (10.4 for some)
• Average pace:
• Time: 52:04!!!!!!!!!
• 11 a.m. BG after: 4.9
• Temp. basal: +50 per cent (1.5 hours)

And the diabetes? No issues. The blood sugars started a tad lower than I would have liked, but I had 3 shot blocks at the start (a banana, no bolus, about an hour and a half earlier), reduced my basal down by 70 per cent, and ended with 4.9, and didn’t experience any post-run slap-in-the-face highs.

Perfection.

Post run waffles well deserved.

Post run waffles well deserved.

Stay tuned for a recap of the final 400 metres…

Diabetes and the racing equation

(It’s taken me longer than I intended to post this second part of my Vancouver First Half half marathon recap; again, I blame chemistry.)

So where were we? Oh right, I had just kicked my last personal best out of the park, knocking off a solid four minutes. And oh how I wish I could have started this post with a conquering WAHOO all around, but sadly, frustratingly, Dear Diabetes was having none of that.

Vancouver First Half: Racing strategy win. Diabetes strategy fail.

Dear Diabetes drew me in early on, tantalizing me, teasing me with a good, solid streak of no lows while training. I didn’t dare gloat or boast about it for fear her ugly head would rear, I just kept happily running along, diabetes NOT at the front of my thoughts. But then, it all turned sour. About a month and a half ago, ohhh right about the start of chemistry (see above), my running blood sugars went every which way but the right way to Sunday.

Race day was no exception.

At about 9 p.m. Saturday night, I started feeling pukey. I checked my blood sugars and they were higher than I like. They kept going up and up and up. I checked them multiple times through the night, gave myself insulin at least three times, and still they didn’t come down. I woke up with them at 8.8 (I like them to be 6.0). I knew they’d surge up following breakfast given how they’d been the last month or so for long run Sundays. I increased my basal rate by 80 per cent for the hour following breakfast, hoping that would counteract a major high. By the time I got to the race course an hour before the start, they were 10.1. It was too late to give another dose of insulin or to increase the basal. I hoped, though, also given the Sunday run patterns that they’d soon drop… just not bottom out.

Initially I was planning to take drastic measures with my temporary basal throughout the run. Instead of dropping it down 50-70 per cent has been my normal, I was going to shut it off outright to avoid any kind of low. But something in me just didn’t feel right about that decision, so I was bit more conservative and only dropped it down to 80 per cent.

The second part of my diabetes strategy was to load up on shot blocks and my homemade sports drink throughout the entire run. Again, maybe a little drastic, but I did not want a low, and it seemed for all my long training runs lately, I couldn’t stuff the shot bloks in fast enough to keep my blood sugars level. I popped my first three shot bloks and took a swig of drink about 5 minutes before the start . Every subsequent 20 minutes, I popped two more with a shot. In total, I went through two packages of shot bloks, save two, and two 400 mL bottles of the sports drink.

The third and final diabetes strategy: I was not to test my blood sugars.

So let’s review shall we: I dropped my basal to 80 per cent for the duration of the run; I loaded up on sugar-filled carbs, some might say overdosed; and I did not keep a running track of my blood sugars while doing so. Pretty much, the basics for What Not To Do With Diabetes.

Five minutes after crossing the finish line, my blood sugars were 15.8. Crap. I jacked up my basal rate to 100 per cent for two hours, gave myself an instant bolus correction dose, did not have a thing to eat (no recovery carbs/proteins for me), and shook my head with the injustice of it all. About an hour later, they were at 23.3. Holy freaking crud ugly monkey, what the frick! One hour after that they were 18.8. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. And three hours later they were 3.1.

Bloody freaking hell. Just run me over with a train why don’t you.

Death by highs.

The feeling of high blood sugars, 5,000 times worse than the worst hangover!

No wonder I felt like absolute crud the last 4 or so kilometres of the race.

Diabetes fail.

“Holy freaking hell, I did it!!!!!!!”

Yesterday’s half marathon effort was a personal best in so many ways. Oh my goodness the pride and joy I am still feeling today; seriously, the endorphins are in major overdrive.

Getting ready to race.

Getting ready to race.

Despite spending the last 15 weeks training for a half marathon, I wasn’t planning on running a half marathon. I was still pretty jaded from my last half effort, and had promised my body we’d concentrate more on conquering the 10k than the half… for awhile at least. But then the UBC run study happened. A study that, despite being targeted for “beginner” runners, had a killer training program that, not to gloat or anything, I was killing! How could I not see if the solid training would translate over to a solid race? So, two weeks ago I managed to secure a bib for the Vancouver First Half half marathon.

Days leading up to the half I kept going back and forth on music; do I run with it or don’t I? I had never raced without music, but for the last 15 weeks, I haven’t run with music. Could I survive the push without Eminem telling me to lose myself, or Green Day hitting me with Saint Jimmie, or Lady Gaga assuring me I was born this way?

Could I?

I sure hoped so, because race morning it simply came down to the annoyance of ear buds, the possibility of them falling out, or being uncomfortably jammed in my ears, or my arms getting tangled in the cords. It had been more than 15 weeks of not dealing with that, more than 15 weeks of happy, solid running. I couldn’t risk the music, no matter how many times it’s gotten me through a run, messing with that.

Solid decision.

Standing in the washroom line, for like the umpteenth time, I ran into two of my favourite run study chicks, who happened to be aiming for the same finish time as me. “Hey! We should totally run together?” Yes, yes we should.

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Pre-race pee stops are aplenty.

I have been running for several years now, and as many of you know, I’ve had a few favourites over the years. But never have I ever run a race with any of them. It’s always been all about me. I generally shoot out the start gates and hope to keep going that way right to the end. But you know the thing about “me” when the “me” starts breaking down, as it inevitably does when you’re exerting yourself so far beyond your state of comfort, if there’s no one else around to help you keep that push going, nine times out of 10, if you’re not Ms. Champion Marathoner, or even just made up of the same mental fortitude fabric, slowly that nasty little devil on your shoulder takes over and slows your pace. At least, for me, that’s how it’s generally been. No matter how hard I’ve trained, when the hurt comes, I haven’t been able to dig deep enough to fully battle through it.

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Three pacers are better than one.

But yesterday? Yesterday was different. I had two incredible runners next to me. Each of us taking turns to pace the others. Pushing each other forward when our legs slowed, or voicing reminders to ease up through the start. Checking in every couple kilometres, making sure we were feeling good, or at least not dying. And talking – talking about the sights, the beautiful sights, the endless rays of “god-lighting” greeting us every which way we turned; the fog still hovering across the pathways, and lifting from the Pacific Ocean with the rising sun; the two white swans hanging at the side of the Seawall as we passed, their heads arced together in a perfect heart; and hey, look at that heron over there chilling with the pigeons; and the signs: “How about those nipples?” “Suck it up Princess!” “You paid to do this;” and the people, the cheers, the encouragement. Before we knew it, we were 10 km done, then 15, then just a few more to go.

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One day my running smiles won’t look so pained.

It did not feel like any other half marathon I have done. It was fun. It was social. I was pushing myself. I was maintaining a fantastic pace. And for three quarters, it did not feel like work.

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Smiles AND thumbs up!

But then, at about 1 hour and 17 minutes in, I took my last 2 shot blocks and my stomach revolted. It was two too many. Instantly I felt the nausea. My stomach had a stitch full across the abdomen. I got burpy. The dark cherry was desperately trying to escape back up my esophagus; some of it did. I’ve been here before. Not with shot bloks, but with gels. Previously, my pace slowed, my gumption faltered, my hopes for a fantastic finish dashed.

But this wasn’t previously. I kept going. I wanted to stop. I wanted to slow. But my girls were still there and our plan, if we were all still together in the end, was to run across that finish line, feet charging together, hands clasped in the air together. I had to keep pushing.

Early on in the run we made a plan, that if we were still feeling great, with about 4 km remaining, we were to push the pace up to lactate for the remaining. Unfortunately, I was not feeling great. My girls, however, were. They pushed. I did not. But I also did not back off my half marathon pace. I maintained. THAT was huge.

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Mama’s coming Papsy!

This race, as beautiful and mostly flat as it was, was somewhat evil. There was a hill, about I don’t know 800 metres in the final stretch. That hill, pure, nasty, evil. Pretty much, I cursed it from bottom to top. But as soon as I crested it, I knew I was there, I could hear the people, see the crowds, I was just about done, my eyes started darting from side to side looking for my Rings, as soon as I spotted them, suddenly the nausea was nothing. My pace shot up, as did the smile on my face. And then, I saw the clock.

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EEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY FREAKING HELL, I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!

PERSONAL BEST BABY!!!

OFFICIAL PERSONAL BEST!!!

SIGNIFICANT PERSONAL BEST!!!

NO TRAINS TO TARNISH THIS PERSONAL BEST!!!

1:55:31!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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My own personal pace bunnies.

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And another of my favourite run study chicks who also PB’d. Yep, we rock 🙂

Vancouver First Half half marathon, I love you ❤

Vancouver Eastside: a smile of a race

If my Vancouver Eastside 10k effort is any indication, I could very well be the perfect prototype for reverse psychology

For weeks leading up to this race I went through a range of emotions. I feared it, didn’t want to race it, didn’t think I’d do well. My training had suffered over the last month, I’d missed runs, or had had super crummy runs. And so, the week of, I decided I wouldn’t race it, I’d run it. No expectations. No pressure. (Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself!) Even when Coach NZ told me the day before that I’d “smash” the run, I despondently shook my head. Nah, I said, I don’t think so.

And then, the night before, with that dammed missed insulin issue, it almost solidified in my head, this was not going to be my race. I was sure I’d be spending the evening wrestling my blood sugars; not a good recipe for race-day speed.

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But wait, the blood sugars shockingly didn’t go all super crazy. Yes, they were high when I finally noticed the memory blip, and yes, they required not one, but two insulin corrections to bring them down prior to bed, but they didn’t bottom out. At 3 a.m. they were 4.9 and at 5 a.m. they were 5.6. There were no interventions required; I could work with those digits.

And wait, the run was set under almost perfect conditions. In its second year, there were, I think, 1,500 runners – not over-populated, and not yet over commercialized. The morning was bright and sunny, but still cool. It was a 10 km loop, but because we were running into the blinding sun for the first half, it didn’t feel like a loop. The route had us running through some of the more under-appreciated parts of the city. An area populated with lower income and homeless people, as well as the upper echelon, it was pretty incredible and heart filling to see that mix cheering us on. I’m still blown away by it.

When I crossed over the start line, I’m not going to lie, my head was still filled with bits of misery, questioning my abilities, questioning why I was there, but with all those positives surrounding me, there really was no way those thoughts and feelings could last. The energy of the people running with me, and those watching on the sidelines either purposely or by happenstance, was a drug.

I rarely looked at my watch. I took in the sights, the buildings, the people, the old Woodwards W circulating high above, the bricks, the cobblestones, my music. I was still not intending to race.

But, step by step, the racing engines started to fire. I didn’t stop at any of the water stations, I didn’t take it easy going up the hills, if someone passed me, I didn’t over-react and chase only to burn out seconds later, but rather kept a steady, fast-twitched pace, never forgetting their face. When I approached the finishing chute and saw the bright red emblazoned numbers of 5 followed by 3 on the timing clock, I charged. Coming in, I was the autobus of the group, finishing, I was close to the sprinter’s lead out.

Chip time: 54:18!!!
Female 35-39: 29/114; All females: 198/769; All runners: 607/1731.

Holy wowzers!!! That is the fastest – official – 10 km time I have ever managed. Given the strength my muscles had at the end, I probably could have gone faster, but the thing is, I pushed myself hard enough – for me. I achieved a personal best and by golly I was SMILING doing it!

I needed that race!

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VANCOUVER EASTSIDE 10k:
8 a.m. BG before: 7.6
Carbs: 1/2c applesauce 1T PB, no bolus
Temp. basal: -50% 1 hour
Distance: 10 km
Chip Time: 54:18!!!
Average pace: 5:23 min/km
Average cadence: 88 spm
9:30 a.m. BG after: 11.1
Temp. basal: +50% 1 hour

And I was NOT the only one racing…