Broad Street Race Recap Part 4 of 4 The Race

Part 4 of 4 finally, the race recap

Ever have a morning where you wake up 30 seconds before the alarm goes off? That was me. I had my lost luggage finally, slept well, and woke up to no alarm. SCORE.  After getting ready, I snuck downstairs and had a banana and peanut butter. I placed my mother’s ring I gave her on my right hand. She was going with me this time. BIL and hubby awoke, dressed, and we were on our way. I had prepared my GenUCAN chocolate protein mixed with coffee (oh yeah baby).

On the ride to the race I teared up a little. I had a lot of messages of support , “Run for you” and “I (you) can do this”. Those two rang home the loudest.

The weather was perfect. Overcast. Low 50’s. I was wearing something warm to protect my neck (spine surgery site) prior to the start.

I was texting teammate Neeli Mann. We found each other, on opposite street corners. DOH! Thousands of people between us, we decided to try find each other at the finish, just as I was told to get off the fence I had climbed. Hey, I am short, gotta climb to see!

I had plenty of time to hit the sea of porta-johns. I then settled into my corral, very close to start time. Then the rumbling started….

Oh no.

No.

Not “that”.

I don’t do “that” outside of my home or familiar area. But boy was “that” knocking loudly. I had 5 minutes to the start and took off sprinting toward the port-johns. Pre race warm-up, right Coach Rebecca? I fought against the sea of runners like I was swimming upstream back into the sea. I luckily found one with no line and hopped in. Don’t know why but I looked into it. I know, I know, gross, but I laughed SO HARD when I saw the cell phone deep in the belly, ringing. Ain’t no one going in after that!

Back to the coral I go. Spiderman (yes, full costume) was there and stretching. Simone from New York was freezing, I enclosed us both in my hoody. Then when we started moving, I gave my hoody to my husband. It was show time.

I love this race.

I ran, comfortable. Sped up when I should, slowed down when I should. Could NOT WAIT to see cake lady.

There was a veteran, in a wheelchair. We played cat and mouse. I would tease and pass him on the uphill as he laughed at me, and in turn he would scream past me on the downhill, both of us giggling playing our “game”.

Words CANNOT describe when I arrived to the aid station by the Capital and I heard “THERE SHE IS! IT’S HER!” I got THE BEST Kidiot High Fives EVER. I felt like a rock star.  Love my fellow Idiots and Kidiots.

At about mile 7 a woman running in front of me passed out cold. Went face first onto the pavement like a falling tree. I screeched to a halt not to run over her. I stood over her and could see she was rolling over. She looked up at me “what hit me?” I said “the pavement”. She giggled. I helped her up, threw her arm over my shoulder and helped her off to the side. A paramedic on a bike was there in seconds. This race has amazing support. She gave me a high five and a thumb’s up and I was on my way.

The drum lines and local bands were AMAZING, the patients of the Children’s hospital were out in their wheelchairs cheering. And there she was, on the corner, I could hear her. “Y’ALL RUNNIN’ I GOT PIE!!!”

WHAT????!!!!

There she stood in all her Lula lookalike glory. Not with a cake, but a pie. I stopped, put my hands on my hips “WHAT? Where ‘s the cake?” she replied with the BIGGEST smile “Honey, you runnin’ slow, I ate it, I’m eatin’ pie now. Don’t you need to go run or somethin’?” She winked and smiled and waved me on. I cannot tell you how much this woman makes me smile every time I do this race.

Honestly the rest of the race was uneventful. It was just smooth, fun, and I was having fun. I could feel the finish coming and I wanted my pretzel. Did I mention they have fresh, yummy ballpark pretzels at the finish?

At mile 9 I heard my husband and brother in law yelling. I stopped, ran back and gave my husband a kiss. His being there means everything to me. I heard a guy next to me as I started back running “now that’s some motivation right there!”

I waved to the battleship as I passed it.

The finish was in the near distance and I was beaming. I did it, I ran. It was glorious. I crossed the finish and immediately ran into THE BIGGEST HUG from Neeli. She was the first person I saw when I finished.

Going through the finish area, they were out of pretzels.   Bummer.

I found my husband and BIL and we started walking in the parking lot toward the car.   A vendor was on the corner “PRETZELS!!”. My husband buys me one. I smile, the race is now complete.

This is the third time I have run this race, and of the 3 times, this is the only time they captured a race photo of me.

Broad Street, thank you. I’ll be back, and this time, I want cake.

And for those of you following the saga of “Hoppy” the bunny, alas, he was never found. On our layover in Houston, TX on the return home ”Blue” joined the family.

blue

 

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Baggage. Ballpark Pretzels and Broad Street.

Part 3 of 4. I know I said 3 parts, but geez, some times I run long. I talk a lot. Imagine that.

The continuing saga:

My husband takes off with our son to back track through the airport in hopes of finding the lost bunny. I go to stand in the whereismybagpleasetellmeyouhaveit line.

Before anyone says JACK: “You should know better and carry on your essentials” I DID. I carried on my son’s. I am a Mom. His stuff outranks mine. PERIOD. So thanks, but no thanks, for all the unsolicited advice and scolding I received.

I was soon ushered into a closet office by agent “A” I know her name, saw it on the nametag. But I refuse to throw someone under the bus. The monotone “Name”, “Address” questions were asked of me. I said out loud (mind you calmly) trying to wrap my head around a lost bag that had 2 hours to get from Plane A to Plane B, my husband and son’s bags made it, why didn’t mine? I said to A “I know you had nothing to do with this, I am just tired, but I don’t understand why my bag didn’t make it and that there is no tracking information on my bag?”

A gives me the “talk to the hand” body position and eyes wide “Honey, your energy is like whoa. You were not discriminated against. Your bag was one of 100 lost today. We don’t have a computer system that can tell us where your bag is.” * Insert scratching record sound here * Breathe. If I am number 100, 99 before me have probably ripped her a new one. Not her fault. I hear my son behind me bawling over his lost bunny.   I will not fall apart I will not fall apart I will not fall apart….tears in 3…2…1….

I got dizzy; my hearing went into a tunnel. What did she say about my energy? My bag was one of many lost today? Was I told to talk to the hand? I had mentally prepared for “I am sorry for the inconvenience” or “we’ll try to locate your bag” um…anything other than “Honey, your energy is like…whoa ”. A, honey, it’s called taper.

I stood there. In shock as a piece of paper was shoved in my face. “If we find your bag we’ll call you”. I have known a lot of people who have had lost bags on other airlines, including myself. They were given bare minimum toiletry kit to get them through the night and typically some sort of apology for inconvenience. I was given a piece of paper and a “do not call us, we’ll call you”. No apology just a gettheheckoutofmyface.

I try to be positive in social media. I do. There are enough “oh boo hoo’s” out there. I was exhausted and frustrated and said something on Facebook and Twitter.

Screenshot_2014-05-16-16-58-51-1

Well…my Twitter family (especially Mug and CinCin) came out guns blazing to my rescue. So much so a Southwest employee out of Dallas, TX saw the activity and contacted me. He took ownership of my lost bag. Wow. This is the Southwest I know, but geez…he is in TX???? Not even remotely close. But he took it, and ran with it.   I heard from no one locally. The only communication I had was from my new Twitter buddy. Thank you @SouthwestRob.

Luckily we were staying with family, I was able to sponge off them to have enough to be able to take a shower and snag some of my niece’s clothes to sleep in.   I started putting Plan B together in my head for race day. I had my IRC shirt I was wearing and most importantly my shoes. I would need GenUCAN, shorts, a sweatband and socks. I sent a quick text to a friend.   “You do realize if my bag is not found, I will be racing…. in pink.”   For anyone who knows me, they know that my message was met with maniacal laughter. I don’t “do” pink. I like it on other people, love when a bada$$ athlete wears it, but you know, me personally, not so much.

A quick trip to Target, a local running store (YAY for GenUCAN), and the expo, I collected the bare minimum to get me through to race day. Many thanks to my brother and sister in law Bill and Lisa who served as my taxi and nieces Jennifer and Jessica who loaned me their shirts, sweatshirts and PJ’s.

Thank you local teammates Neeli and Kristin who were giving me addresses and locations to find GenUCAN and offering to bring things to me. A huge thank you to Fairmont Running Company for giving me the local running club’s discount.   The running community is something else, a great big huge supportive family. Group hug.

My phone rang around 7pm. My bag had been found and was out for delivery, estimated arrival 10pm.   A humorous text conversation with a highly caffeinated delivery guy by the name of PJ, my bag was delivered, safe and sound shortly after midnight.

TYRBAG

I collapsed face first on the bed, and slept, like a rock.  I want my pretzel.

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Ballpark Pretzels…no wait BAGGAGE. Broad Street.

And so the story continues with part 2 of 3…. 

2012. Breakdowns.

I was late to the race. I wasn’t able to connect with my pacer. I was so focused I missed the cake lady on her corner. I did hear her yelling, people later told me this year it was red velvet cake, and she was sharing. Dang.

I also missed my husband and brother in law at mile 9. I crossed the finish crying. No. I was a sobbing, blubbering mess. I had not PR’d. Had not reached All American. First thing said to me by the first person I talked to after the race was “where did you go wrong?” I was crushed. I had “friends” turn on me saying they wanted no part of someone who could not succeed. One of the most painful days of my running career, ever. However, if you talked to my son, he would tell you I won.

Race recap of 2012 can be read in its entirety:

https://coachkristie.com/2012/05/09/2012-blue-cross-broad-street-run/

Mile9

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2013. Broken Body

We decided not to travel to Philly in 2013. I still entered the race, the first year of the new lottery system, and gained entry. Whew. I was able to defer to 2014. Thank goodness as my body fell APART in 2013.

What happened in 2013:

https://coachkristie.com/2013/10/18/back-into-the-ring/

neckoween

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2014. Ballpark Pretzels will have to wait. BAGGAGE.

So. Here we are. Boobs still in tact. Breakdowns, over. Long gone are my 8 minute miles. Forget All American for right now, it is about rebuilding and being able to run again.

Broken body, recovering? Kinda sorta. Coach Rebecca and I have been rebuilding me slowly and carefully. My body has good weeks and bad weeks with recovery. Thankfully the fatigue and pain is completely gone. In the last few weeks before the race there were a couple set backs.

Set back #1:                       ******BREAKING NEWS*******

Dear friends and family it is with a sad and heavy heart that I announce the passing of my dear trusty treadmill. 7 years and over 11,000 miles, it was given the dreaded “it’ll be cheaper to replace it than fix it” diagnosis. It served me well. BUT RIGHT BEFORE A RACE???? SERIOUSLY? Ok, spoiled me, I have a gym membership. The gym is open 24/7/365. The treadmills there shut off at 60 minutes.   #spoiledtreadmillrunnerproblems.

Yes, I can hear several people saying “Uh, HELLO?! Run outside?”. Hi, let me introduce myself, I am Coach Kristie, we obviously have not met….

Set back #2:

In the 2-3 (?) weeks leading up to the race I was experiencing this crazy thing with my leg.   I could run 30 minutes and then my glute would lock up and make my leg go peg straight. Think Pirate. ARRRGGGGHHHH. Makes for an interesting quick dismount on a moving treadmill. Back up and punt, I could get on an elliptical without this happening.   I was getting nervous. Didn’t tell anyone how nervous I was, but I was at near panic. You see Broad Street is a big, fast, race. You can read on the website, they are not exactly walker friendly.   Strategy was to enjoy the race and finish. Strategy change, it was to finish and not get pulled off the course. New plan: run as long as I could and walk through aid stations.

A visit to my chiropractor in the days before we were to fly out to Philly resulted in a diagnosis and solution to my “peg leg”.   My chiropractor discovered an adhesion in my neck blocking nerve signals to my leg. He taught me a vascular release that I could do while running to stop the peg leg. He also taught me a lymphatic release I could also do while running that would help drain the lactic acid from my psoas. My psoas was causing my glute to lock and my leg to rotate outward. Lots of stretching and yoga was encouraged. Cobra and Pigeon pose are my friends.   He had me practice the releases so he could make sure I had it down. This is what I feel like when I am doing them:

rubheadpattummy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Uneventful travel with on time or early flights and seamless layovers we arrive in Philadelphia. Exhausted, we have been up and traveling since o’dark thirty, mind you, with an energizer bunny of a 7 year old. We were so ready to see family and settle in for the night. As we sit and watch the suitcases circle around baggage claim, an unsettling feeling hits me. My husband and son have their bags. Where is mine? There are only 2 to 3 left going around and around and around.

I will not freak out I will not freak out I will not freak out I will not freak out

At the exact moment I am being flagged into the “lost baggage” reporting zone my son completely starts crying and freaking out as he has somewhere from plane to here, he dropped “hoppy” his stuffed bunny he received from the Easter bunny.

Long travel day + lost bag + taper madness + freaking out child = Mommy is about to lose her sh&t. It is all I can do to keep it together. I can feel myself falling apart at the seams. I tell myself. It is Southwest Airlines. They are KNOWN for fantastic customer service. It will be ok.   It will. Breathe……..

Boob. Breakdowns. Broken Body. Ballpark Pretzels. Broad Street.

Broad Street 10 Miler Race Recap- Part I of 3

2011: 1:24:05          Div. 163          Overall 5334

2012:   1:26:02        Div. 284          Overall 8977

2013:   Deferred

2014: 2:00:46          Div. 1657        Overall 30,950

2011. Boob

The untold story of 2011 Broad Street.

Yep. You heard me right. For those who know and those who don’t, I am a breast cancer survivor. I was lucky for it to be caught very early. After a successful lumpectomy, I was left, well…looking like a shark took a hunk out of me. I lived with it for years. Finally had reconstruction in 2010.

The day before leaving for Broad Street to run this race for the first time, I woke up with something missing. HOLY CRAP where did my boob go!!!!????? Yep. There she blows, GONE. Imagine adding this into the mix with taper madness. Fun huh? Not so much.

I have a “sockerstition”. I run with a new pair of experia socks every race day. This day, I wore 2. Thank you Thorlos for protecting my feet, and yes, filling in (literally) for one of the “girls” who decided to back out of this race last minute.

The course is alive with spectators, musicians. My favorite memory was of a woman (if you read the Janet Evanovich Stephanie Plum novels, picture Lula) standing on the side of the road holding a GIGANTIC chocolate cake and a fork. She was screaming at the runners “Y’ALL RUNNIN’!!!! I GOT CAKE!!!!” The next fond memory was of my husband and brother in law cheering for me at mile 9.

Had a blast running this. It was instantly my favorite race. It wasn’t until I returned home from the race and someone sent me a message telling me “DUDE, you were almost a USATF All American, you should go for it!” . So. I decided to go for it.

Picture below is just before the start of the 2011 race. Stay tuned for Race Recap Part 2 of 3.

QUIT STARING AT MY SOCKS!!!!!

 

Beat It!

The Comeback Coach

I have had a lot of sincere inquiries as to my progress on rebuilding myself. So here you go.

For those who know, and who don’t, 2013 was quite possibly one of the most challenging years I have ever had. I lost my Mom and best friend to Lung Cancer, I had a mass removed from my sinus cavity and unexpected emergency spine surgery. The whole year tried me emotionally and physically well beyond my limits. Physically my sacrifice was my most cherished gift, my gift of the run.

Let me translate. I can run again, finally. But it used to be easy, really easy. Now, most days it is a fight. It is hard.   Some days, my legs just don’t work and I just, well, can’t. I have had to start over as if I just started running.

At first it hurt. I cried. A lot. I threw things. I used to look at a 1 hour run and in my head and I would say “easy peasy 6 mile or more run in zone 2”. Now, I am thrilled for close to 4-5, or even being able to run the full hour without walking.

My favorite race is the Philadelphia Blue Cross Broad Street 10 Mile Run. I have a lot of family there, the Rocky soundtrack blares and the spectators are just second to none, and hello there is a soft, huge, ballpark Phillies special pretzel at the finish. I have run it twice. My best time was 1:24:00. I will be toeing the start line for the third time in a couple weeks. My run is not what it once was. It will get there again, but the healing process is slow.   I hope to finish before the cutoff of 2:30:00.   That is a far cry from 1:24:00. Shoot, my ½ Marathon PR is 2:03.

I am 10lbs from my “normal” weight, thank you surgery, 15lbs from “game face” weight. I keep getting snide remarks and have had a few people ask me “when are you due?”. The best one “You’re a Coach? Shouldn’t you be thinner?” People are mean. Some thrive on other’s setbacks. If I have been that for someone to keep them from bullying someone else, I am happy. But you know where I am right now? To be bluntly honest, I am happier than I have been in years. YEARS.

I am healthy. Pain free. I am in remission from cancer since Aug of 2009. My son is growing like a weed and thriving in school. He is my mini me and I love him more than is humanly possible. My husband is handsome, brave, and (TMI) flat sexy. I am a LUCKY woman.   I am a Coach of and a member of a badass team of coaches and athletes at Team PRS FIT.   How many people can incorporate their passion into their career? Only the lucky ones for sure, and I am one of them.

As a Coach, I trust the process. So as an athlete, I trust the process. Coach Rebecca is rebuilding me slowly and carefully. I have to listen to my body very carefully. Some times it whispers, some times it screams, but I listen.

People ask me when I am planning my “comeback”.   I don’t know, my body will tell me. But I will tell you this. There is one thing that has made a comeback, my love of running.