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“I have to pee, bad, which doesn’t make sense, because I just went…. 3 times already and it is not yet 6:30am.”  This was my pressing thought as I waited for my first marathon to start.  Perhaps that is the brain’s way of taking your mind off the fact that you are going to do something totally ridiculous – run for the next 4 hours and 51 minutes, up some pretty steep hills, for over 42 kilometers.

It was early March when I decided that I was going to run a marathon without dying or suffering serious injury. My virtual running team had a face-to-face meet scheduled at the Flying Pig Race Weekend in Cincinnati, Ohio the first weekend in May, and I had intended to run the half marathon (21k).  My training was going really well, and I wondered out loud if I could do a full marathon.  Murray grabbed on that and assured me that I definitely could. So, on March 2^nd I switched races.  Training was going very well, until the day after a long run where I could hardly move. My hip abductors (which you need to climb stairs) apparently were on strike, and also my piriformis (inner butt muscle) was reminding me with every step just how unhappy it was as well.  I was suffering from what I call “Adult Onset Athleticism”.  To make matters worse, a few days later I rolled my ankle, so now I was also black and blue and limping.  I had to modify my training and started physical therapy right away.  I was still determined to “attempt” the full.

Jump forward two blindingly fast months, and here I am, in Cincinnati along with over 35,000 other runners, many of whom are jammed in my corral, waiting for the race to start.  “Why oh why did I think this was a good idea?!  I haven’t trained enough! (even though I finished the program).  I am injured! (I got the all clear from the therapist).”

As I crossed the start, adrenalin taunted me to speed pass the mob of runners, but everything I read told me to fight that urge, so instead I kept pace with those around me and the first 10k was at what I can only describe as a leisurely pace. My team running coach hinted that there “might be some hills” and that I should consider hill training.  Fortunately I took Ron’s advice and was able to continue my pace, while others stopped to walk on some very steep and persistent hills. Personal victory!

I know I had a silly grin on my face for the first 30k, as I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and the crowds cheering us – me on.  When I felt tired, I started singing along with my ipod, out loud, to take my mind off tiredness and pain, and put the focus on the embarrassment of singing where it belonged.  I did get a few looks belting out my tunes.  I got a bad calf cramp with about 5k to go and was ready to stop.  I was running on empty and in pain.  I drew on a comment my sister made to encourage me.  Kelly told me I was the most determined person she knew, so I told myself I had to be at least as determined as the people around me still running. That kept me going for the last 5k.  With the finish line in sight I started fist pumping the air in victory, but my arms were too tired to hold up, so I decided clapping was a better approach for me as I ran across the line.

I think I was the only clapper that day.

Once I received my medal the emotions overtook me and I cried, great heaving sobs, leaning over a fence as even the crying was taking up too much of my remaining energy.  “Pull yourself together, girl!” I regained composure and made my way to the exit, spotted Murray, and burst into tears again.

My sisters got me interested in running and helped me get started.  My husband fully supported me both emotionally, and with every running device known to man.  My virtual running team, who I chat with every day, has provided the advice and community I needed to keep going even when running alone got boring (and cold).  I was successful only because of the support I received from Murray, my family and friends, which allowed me to go from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.

Saturdays used to be rest days, with Murray and I home alone, relaxing, maybe knocking a few minor things off the honey-do list.  It seems lately that our Saturdays have become very busy, and the focal point of our week.  Having adjusted nicely to the empty nest, we have both picked up hobbies that not only keep us entertained, but have become an integral part of our lives.  I have been preparing for my first marathon, and doing longer runs on Saturdays.  Yesterday I completed 29k.  Murray has had a few winter heli fly-ins on the weekends.  Yesterday, he was at an fun-fly at an indoor soccer stadium.  The big helicopter had to stay home, but he was able to take the three others, and had a lot of fun with no crashes.  In February, we hosted “Helis on Ice”, an annual event where RC helicopter pilots get together for a fun day of flying over a frozen lake.  This was out first time hosting.  There was probably 25-30 pilots here throughout the day.  To feed the group, we made a giant pot of chili, and also had hot apple cider and hot chocolate to help keep everyone warm throughout the day.  Kathryn came over and helped me keep everyone fed, while Scott and Murray enjoyed the action outside.  At the end of the day, the chili was all but gone, and a squirrel ran away with the last few rolls. If you ever have a large group of people to feed, here is our chili recipe.  This is a good, standard chili that only tastes better the longer is simmers.

Heli of a Pot of Chili
Feeds 30+

• 4 Large Cans Diced Tomato
• 4 Bottles Classico Spicy Red Pepper Spaghetti Sauce
• 4 Cans Red Kidney Beans
• 2 Cans White Kidney Beans
• 2 Small Cans Tomato Paste
• 1 Cup Chili Powder
• 3 Tablespoons Vinegar
• 3 Tablespoons Sugar (Brown or Splenda)
• Worchestershire Sauce
• Salt, Garlic, Onion Powder (to taste)
• 6 Onions
• 4 Large Sweet Peppers, Variety
• 7 Lbs Ground Beef

In a large stock pot bring the diced tomato, spaghetti sauce, beans and tomato paste to a simmer.  Add all spices.  In a large skillet, dice all vegetables and sauté.  Add to sauce when tender.  Brown the ground beef and drain.  Add to stock pot.  Add additional salt or spices as desired.  You can also add red pepper flakes or hot pepper to give it some zip.

Despite best intentions to maintain this blog, it appears that once again, I am failing at regular updates.  Summer is now over, and Fall certainly is here in all its glory.  Although we did not take a summer vacation, we did make the most out of our weekends, travelling in the 5^th wheel to PEI, Cape Breton, the Valley, and a few trips to Maine as well.  Many weekends were also spent on the lake, enjoying the newly refurbished boat.  Murray has been to a few fly-ins, and isn’t crashing nearly as much now ;-).  I have not run any more races, but have kept running, and get lots of support and motivation from my family to continue.  This weekend we will be back to Maine with Kathryn and Scott, to enjoy Thanksgiving and do a little shopping.  This is typically the girls shopping weekend, but this is a test, to see if the guys have what it takes to endure a weekend of full contact shopping! Jillian is back in Halifax, going to Nursing School at Dalhousie University.  She has an apartment near the school with her good friend from high school. We still don’t see her as much as I would like, but we see her now a lot more than we used to. It is wonderful having the family so close, and having everyone home for Sunday dinner means a lot to me.

Now that it is getting cooler and the days are getting shorter, I am thinking about a fall or winter vacation to some place warmer, maybe even a Christmas vacation again.  I’m getting restless.  Stay tuned 🙂

Today was one of those days where I just didn’t feel like going for a run.  It wasn’t my day off (I already had two this week), but I just couldn’t get motivated to get out and get some exercise.  It is easy to talk yourself out of one day – after all, you worked hard all week.  You just did a race a mere week ago.  It’s cold.  Is that a twinge in your lower back?  Maybe you have a kidney infection.  Better take it easy!  I have said all these things to myself to justify a well-deserved day off.  But, one day turns into two, then a week, and then before you know it, you talk about how you used to be a runner.

Here is my advice. When you don’t feel like running (or walking), put on your sneakers.  That is what I did today.  I put on my sneakers, then I made a strawberry rhubarb custard pie.  It’s a new recipe, and I haven’t tasted it yet, but it looks and smells great.  Once the pie was out of the oven, I decided that to pre-empt the guilt that may come from having a few pieces, I better get out for that run.  I just got back from a 5k and I feel great.  I never get runners high, but now, I am going to enjoy some runner’s Pie!

Runner’s Strawberry Rhubarb Custard Pie

• 3 cups sliced rhubarb
• 1 cup quartered strawberries
• 3 large eggs
• 3 tbsp milk
• 3 tbsp all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups sugar or splenda
• pinch of nutmeg
• pinch of salt
• 1 tbsp butter for “dotting”
• one 9-inch crust

For the glaze:

2 tbsp jam with 1/4 tsp water, warmed in microwave

Slice the rhubarb and strawberries and mix together.  Pour into crust and spread out evenly.  The crust is not the main event here, so I recommend just using a premade-frozen one.  I made one from almond flour, butter and a bit of splenda.

To make the custard, mix the eggs, milk, flour, sugar, nutmeg and salt together until velvety.  It is important that it is smooth with no lumps.

Very slowly, pour the custard over the fruit, coating it evenly.  Then, tap and shake the pie a few times to make sure the custard as filled all the voids.  Dot with bits of butter (optional).

Bake in a 350 degree pre-heated oven for about 1 hour.  Take out and turn after 30 minutes. I recommend using a cookie sheet in case the custard spills over.

As the pie cools, microwave the strawberry jam until runny.  Brush over exposed fruit in the pie.  This keeps the fruit shiny instead of dull and dried out looking.

This pie must be served cold or it will run.  I recommend a dollop of whip cream on top.

One year ago, while visiting my Dad on Father’s Day, my sisters both arrived, flushed with excitement after finishing their Johnny Miles 10k race.  Immediately, I wanted what they had.  It was obviously good stuff!  On that day, I made an impulsive pact with them that I would do the race next year.  With their encouragement, I started the couch to 5k program.  It is a 10 week program.  It took me 16 weeks.  The first day, I could not run the required 60 seconds without stopping.  I was discouraged, but kept at it.  Once I finally finished the 5k program, Kathy took me out for a 6k run, to push me into doing longer runs.  There were times on that run that she actually ran backwards, coaxing me on.  She really needed a slap – if only I could catch up to her!  Kelly has a great understanding of the science of running and introduced me to farklets, which I have a love-hate relationship with today.  Kelly is also a big fat liar!  Well, she is not big or fat, but she kept reassuring me that she is slow, making me feel better about my times.  I ran with Kelly for the 10k, and let me tell you, she is not slow!

As feared, neither sister forgot about my commitment; both were prompt in reminding me to register for the race.  Time flew by, and on Thursday I went to Mom and Dads to relax, and get ready for the big race.  During that time I was pampered, and enjoyed every moment.  Dad cooked his elaborate meals, and Mom and I went shopping, my favorite past time in even the smallest of towns.  It was great to be able to sit down and chat with them alone for a few days.

Race day came, and the flight or fight instinct kicked in.  Apparently, I am on the “flight” end of that spectrum, and absolutely everything wanted to leave my body as quickly as possible, in any way possible.  By the time the race actually started, I was sure I was going to vomit before I got across the start line.  Kathryn and Scott came just to cheer me on, and that meant a lot.  Mom and Dad were there, and Murray surprised me by showing up too.  He was supposed to be away for a fly-in in Cape Breton, but came home early for support.  There was no way I could back out now, feigning a severe but short lived bout of leprosy or something urgent enough to garner sympathy and support for quitting.

Kelly and Kathy were great during the race, and kept me on a consistent pace.  Other than Kathy screaming at me to “DIG IN!” in and “Don’t you dare stop!” on one particularly harrowing hill, I stayed on track.  One hour, 4 minutes and 44 seconds later, I was across the finish line, 2 kilometers past empty.  I had run out of fuel and motivation near the end, but somehow found just enough left to finish.  If there is any fairness in the world, that energy came from belly fat.

I never really knew what people meant when they said they hurt all over, until after the race.  I was in agony.  Sweet agony.  Today I can hardly move.  I think my hair hurts.  My pride and self-esteem have never felt better, however.  Next year, I don’t know whether to try for a better 10k time, or go for the half marathon.  What do you think, sisters?  Are you ready for a throw down?