2013 DFW Zombie Run!

Oh wow. Words cannot express how disappointing the DFW Zombie Run was... but don't worry, I'll still use a few thousand words trying. Just think of this miserably long post as a symbolic representation of that miserably long race. 

What is the DFW Zombie Run? It was advertised as a night-time adventure 5k. The website promised obstacles, a mud pit, and awesome swag (well, a t-shirt and a bag). Most importantly, it promised zombies. Each runner would start with 4 flags (flag-football style) and spend the race trying to evade zombies (volunteers) to keep their humanity (flags). If a runner crossed the finish line with at least one flag left, they'd be dubbed as "still-human" and receive a medal for their efforts. Even those unfortunate enough to get infected (lose all their flags) would still get to enjoy an awesome after party (they really kept talking up the amount of free beer they'd have) and get entered into a raffle for the undead (not raffling off the undead... but limiting the participants to only the undead). Sounds awesome, right?

The website even went into detail about what kinds of zombies we'd encounter: 

• Runners - 28 Days Later style zombies that could run after you
• Walkers - Zombies that would move slowly but travel in hoards. If they surrounded you, you were toast. 
• Transition Zombies - Zombies that would actually transform into zombies mid-race (because not every zombie starts out looking like death... they need time to rot and have their instincts kick in). They'd apparently have a loud, twenty second transformation process that would give nearby runners a head start to get away. Also, apparently they'd be missing some essential things that normal runners would have... like maybe a bib or flags or something. 
• Creepers - Zombies that would apparently be really slow (and maybe crawling?), and would be of little concern as long as you weren't in a narrow space.

When reading up on it, I loved the amount of detail they put into everything. They had professional looking commercials and a million rules. It seemed like they really had things figured out. 

Oh how wrong I was. 

My first clue that things wouldn't be as seamless as I hoped should have been the fact that after the automatic e-mail confirming my registration last month, I received no correspondence or information from them about the race. That is, until the day of. They sent out a waiver at 2am the day of the event asking everyone to bring a signed copy of it. Why that waiver wasn't on the website, included with the confirmation, or e-mailed earlier, I don't know. Fortunately, I was planning on stopping by my office to pick up some things anyway (which really didn't help my claims of "oh, I don't work too much, I totally have a life" when I ran into the very same boss that accuses me of the opposite so often), so I was able to print it out no problem and didn't really think anything of it at the time (I can only print things at work, because my home printer is covered with wine from when a bottle of Hobo Hooch (it's actual name) exploded in my trunk mid-move). Jeff thought that maybe they had sent it out last minute because it looked like a terrible storm would be coming in, which was fair.

Still classier than Boone's Farm

In any case, even though I had pretty high hopes for this race, I was also pretty nervous and somewhat terrified for the following reasons:

1) I am a terrible runner. I had upped my training recently by going running before work every morning rather than after work on the evenings I happened to be free (which were few and far between), but I think since my legs weren't used to that, they tired out quickly. I noticed my running capacity decreasing steadily over the course of the week before the run. It didn't help that I was usually sore from my Jazzercise classes (seriously... they love doing non-stop squats and lunges in Jazzercise). 

2) I am somewhat accident prone. While I haven't suffered any terrible injuries, I get a lot of really dumb ones. A coat hanger through the ear, a broken finger while playing kickball, you know. I even broke my foot going to the movies once (not at drill team, not in a kicking fight... but going to the movies). As a result, I was a little nervous about doing an obstacle race in the dark. I just had these terrible visions of me falling into chasms, tripping over zombies, and getting touched by unseen creatures (like fish or bugs) when in the stream and/or mud pit obstacles.

3) As I mentioned, the weather forecast did not bode well. We were under a severe storm warning that predicted thunderstorms, high winds, torrential rain, and the possibility of hail. I'm willing to run in rain (as proven at the Great Taco Run), but I draw the line at pretty much everything else. The hail was really what concerned me. If it started before we ran, that'd be fine. We could camp out under a bridge or stay home or whatever. But what if it started hailing mid-race? What would we do, find cover under a tree? The only person that ever has worked for is Homer Simpson. 

"Sheltering myself with a large piece of sheet metal,
I ran for cover under the tallest tree I could find!"

4) There were going to be zombies. I watch a lot of horror movies, and zombies are terrifying. Even though I knew they'd just be regular people, the terror felt somewhat real. Also, I'm pretty sure there was like a 20% chance of there actually being a zombie apocalypse at the same time that we wouldn't notice until it was too late because the real zombies would blend in so well with the fake zombies. 


Rather than chicken out, though, we decided to keep on with the race and headed out to Fort Worth. We made it there in plenty of time (about an hour before our wave was supposed to start), grabbed our stuff, and headed towards the check-in area.

That's where the trouble first started. 

The check-in zone was basically just a small trailer in the middle of the parking lot. We couldn't even see anything else race-themed from it. With no discernible lines and absolutely no organization, we eventually gave them our confirmation sheets and waivers in return for a random bib number (we were supposed to fill out the bottom with our information so that the timing chip could be linked to us, but only half the people knew that) and a belt with three flags (even though the website clearly said that we'd have four). Because they had run out of safety pins, there was one girl there stapling everyone's bibs to their shirts. Supposedly, they had only planned for 3000 runners, but had 5400 show up instead (according to the somewhat apologetic Facebook posts they made after the fact), which would explain a lot of the chaos. However, they had also said that walk-ups weren't allowed, especially since all of the waves were full, so I don't really see how they didn't plan for the right number of runners... but whatever. 

After getting our bibs, we decided that it would be a good idea to grab our swag and put it in my car with our other belongings (they had been very clear about the fact that we couldn't take anything with us on the course... which makes sense considering that it was supposed to involve a mud pit and wading through a stream). Then, we saw the ridiculous layout of the course and tented party area. In walking to get our shirts from the party tents, we walked right by runners from the first wave heading towards the finish line. Maybe it's just me (and every event planner in the world), but having a race course not just intersect but actually align completely with the casual walking area seems like a bad idea. Keep in mind, this is a race where zombies are chasing runners to steal their flags. We had some runners join our little group and pretend to be walking towards the tents until zombies passed. We also saw some zombies taking flags from people who hadn't even started the race yet... because there was absolutely no way to tell the difference! That was just dumb. 

Eventually, after hitting a lot of check-points and having different people yelling different instructions at us, we made it to the tents. Unfortunately, the lines for t-shirts were really long, and we really wanted to catch the next wave (of runners... not surfing), so we decided to put our stuff up in my car and just get our shirts later. In fact, Jeff, Liz, and I had decided to run with Jane Jetson's* wave, which was about half an hour before the one that we signed up for. It's a good thing we did, because we ended up being the last wave to run (but more on that later). 

We got to the starting line, but not until after passing a guy with a giant tub of medals that was handing them out like candy. He offered me one, but I declined, thinking that I would rather wait until after the race when I would have earned it. It was noble... and I regretted it so hard later. 

Finally, our time had come. The air horn went off and so did we! Everything started out like a normal race, but as we approached the first bridge, we ran into a whole hoard of zombies underneath it (because they're just like trolls, apparently). That's when I learned that I'm really bad at evading things (attention potential muggers: please don't pay any attention to this part). After just the first clump of zombies on this 5k, I had already lost two of my three flags and was panting so hard from the interval sprinting I had done. Jeff, Liz, and Jane hadn't lost any. I felt kind of like a loser. Liz gave me one of her flags, though, which was really sweet. Also, it was kind of funny how one of the zombies took a flag from me. We probably circled each other for a good thirty seconds while he kept grabbing for a flag and missing and I kept flailing and trying fruitlessly to get around him. It did not go well. 

That's when it started to rain. 

Worse than that, the rain made everything really slippery. At this point, we hadn't reached any obstacles yet (or as we'd discover later, we wouldn't reach any obstacles ever), but it was still pretty treacherous just running around. Because we were trying to avoid zombies, we were running kind of all over the place and changing directions constantly. Had we just been running on the sidewalk, it wouldn't have been a problem, but sprinting through mud and grass and jerking around was dangerous stuff. At one point, Liz fell directly on her knee, which I'd imagine was less than pleasant (after regrouping at my apartment, she spent a good portion of the evening icing it). I also watched a zombie lunge for Liz and fall over. She yelled "oh, are you alright?" while sprinting away, which was kind of cute and funny (don't worry, he was fine). 

By the time we hit a mile, the rain was pouring down. All the zombies had gone back to the tents, and all of the runners we had passed (all two of them... if that many... because I'm way slow), had walked back the way we came. With no signs, barricades, or volunteers to guide us (with the exception of one fire truck blocking the way), we followed what we thought to be the course. It can't have been the course, though, because we only went roughly 3k rather than 5k. Apparently, we weren't the only ones that were confused by the course, either. Later, when looking at the facebook page (and all the outraged comments), some people talked about the course being a 7k. Others posted about how they had to dangerously cross the river on shaky/slippery rocks because they were led to believe that was part of the course. I'm guessing that that is why the firetruck was there blocking the path. They probably came out to keep people from crossing the river, especially considering that apparently a girl had drowned at that spot not too long ago (according to facebook). The entire course was just such a disorganized mess. Perhaps they had planned on counting the river as their big obstacle for the race but never cleared it with the city? I mean, there weren't any other obstacles (except for a shoddily built wall thing at the very end), so I'm guessing it would have to be? 

Regardless, we took the only route we could find and headed towards the finish line. After the halfway point, we realized that we didn't see any runners from the next wave. In fact, we didn't see anyone else on the course at all. Apparently, shortly after we started, the police officially cancelled the race. I'm not sure if it was because of the storm, because of people getting hurt on the unmarked course, or a mixture of the two. We didn't have far to go to reach the finish line, though, so we figured we might as well see it through. Unfortunately, they had already started deflating the finish line, so we had to run to get there (I realize it was a race, so running shouldn't have been a big deal, but I had given up running completely about halfway through, and the slippery, uneven grass was more dangerous than ever). We actually had to hold it up a little in order to walk under the arch, but we did it!

I couldn't find a picture from this New Girl episode where the guys are holding up the deflated
finish line so that Zooey Deschanel could finish the race, but trust me, it happened.

After finishing victoriously (because we all totally still had flags on our belts - thanks again for the extra flag, Liz!), we went to the tents to claim our prizes... and found that there was absolutely nothing left. Granted, the race had been cancelled due to rain, but we were told that they were completely out of t-shirts, out of medals, and out of beer (which, I didn't want anyway... but it's the principle of the thing). They did have a couple dog tags and rubber bracelets that they dumped into a pile on the ground to let everyone dig for, which Liz was nice enough to grab for us. 

By the time we left, we were furious. With no swag, no organization, no obstacles, and hardly any zombies after the first leg, we had essentially paid to jog (okay, walk) a couple miles in a public park. 

We weren't the only ones who were furious, either. While we were under a bridge changing into some dry clothes before our drive back (again, just like trolls), Liz overhead some policemen complaining about how terribly planned and dangerous this race was. Then, Jeff and Liz spent the ride back reading us the angry comments from the facebook page. According to the comments, we weren't the only ones that left with nothing (even those in the second wave claimed that they had already run out of medals and shirts by the time they had finished). We also weren't the only ones confused by the course (as described above). Luckily, we weren't among the groups that actually got hit or kicked by the zombies. We also were lucky to not be one of the zombies that got hit or kicked by the runners (seriously... people are crazy and get way too competitive). It was so bad that the local news actually got involved to run stories on how awful this race was. Then, after hundreds of angry comments, the company that put on the race posted a public apology and offered refunds and shirts/medals to any dissatisfied runners who e-mailed them... except that the e-mail address they gave didn't work. Then, they claimed to be affiliated with charities that had apparently never heard of them, so they revised their statement to say that they had planned to donate a portion of the profits to the charities. For the next two weeks, things just kept getting uglier. 

Eventually, I started to really feel bad for this company. I honestly couldn't tell if it was a swindler who was trying to get away with a shoddy race and got caught, or a genuine small company that just got in over their heads and didn't know how to make things right. Either way, everyone was so vicious that I wasn't even upset anymore. Now that more time has passed, and they've started making things right, I'm starting to believe that they are the latter. 

About a week after they race, they put out a revised statement and e-mail address that people could contact if they didn't get a shirt or medal (that remember, were supposed to be included in the cost of registration... it wasn't just people being selfish), and it worked. About a week and a half after e-mailing them my address, I actually received my swag in the mail. Seriously, I did not expect that to happen. 

"I Survived The Hoard!"

Also, they decided to give refunds to all of the waves that were cancelled due to the storm (although seriously... the rain cancelling some of the waves really wasn't the problem, in my book - it was the terrible planning, lack of resources, etc.). 

Now that the whole ordeal is over, I'm really glad that the company made good on their promises. I think this has been a valuable learning experience for them, and I hope that they can fix some of their mistakes before their next event. That being said, there is no way I will ever participate in any of their future events. There were just too many inherent issues.  

Have you ever been part of a race or event that just went terribly awry? Do you think this was a scam company trying to save face or a genuine company trying to make right? Aren't medals the best?!


*Some names have been altered to protect the identity of my friends.

The Great Taco Run

After two months of arduous training (you know, a few trips out jogging each week), it was finally time for the highly anticipated Great Taco Run. I was very excited about this race, because while I am usually kind of nervous before races, I actually felt prepared this time. Thanks to my somewhat success two weeks earlier at the Tour des Fleurs and the fact that for the first time ever I actually made it to week 8 in my Couch-to-5k program, I was actually pretty confident and hopeful about how this race would turn out.

I prepped the night before by eating a bunch of tacos with my family (because it is called the Great Taco Run). Once I got home after dinner, I laid out my clothes for the next morning, along with all of the crap I'd need to bring with me (purse, race bib, granola bar, etc.), and actually got into bed pretty early. I tossed and turned for a long while before starting to finally drift off to sleep...

... and was shaken awake by an earthquake.

I'd never felt an earthquake before, so I was naturally very startled. It was all the more unsettling because I had been in that weird pre-sleep stage where I wasn't sure what had happened and thought I might be either under attack or insane (until I felt the after-shock, that is). But after that ordeal, it took me forever to fall asleep again.

As it turned out, the lack of sleep wasn't going to be my biggest problem during the race. The rain that morning proved to be a much bigger impediment. As Hannah, Jeff, Liz and I headed to the race, there were only a few sprinkles, but by the time we finished the 5k and were heading towards the post-race taco frenzy, it was raining much harder. It never poured down, but we were soaked through regardless. The rain itself didn't really bother me until my socks started to get wet - I cannot stand it when my feet get wet, except in very controlled situations (showers and swimming pools).

Unfortunately, the rain had slowed us down enough that by the time we made it to the post-race taco frenzy, they were almost entirely out of tacos. With only one booth still serving (that had a huge line and was just Taco Bueno) and both Hannah and I shivering because of how cold we were, we decided to leave and get a celebratory brunch. In keeping with the spirit of things, I ordered breakfast tacos.

Results:
Race time - 46:52

Because it was raining, I decided to leave my phone/camera in the car.
Instead, I thought I'd just steal this blurry picture off the internet of
two of the participants who were there dressed as tacos.

The 2012 Warrior Dash - Are You a Warrior?

I think it's needless to say that no one has ever considered me a warrior. I'm pretty obviously wimpy (despite what my kickboxing instructor says in an apparent attempt to placate me) and, as I've said before, scared of basically everything. A couple months ago, however, I participated in the Warrior Dash, and tried my darnedest to be just that, a warrior!

Well... I would have tried my darnedest to be just that had I bothered to do any training whatsoever (I hadn't even been running once since the Firefly Run a few weeks prior). To top it off, I for some reason thought it would be a good idea to get donuts and kolaches for everyone that morning. Turns out that they probably weren't the best pre-run meal.

After eating our nutritious breakfast, we all piled into the car and headed out to the site. We parked, boarded the shuttles (which were some pretty fancy school buses, complete with seat belts and a number of people saying things like "in my day, we rode the school bus with no seat belts uphill through the snow"), and arrived at the event. We checked our bags, carefully avoiding the already muddied participants, and decided to catch a peek at some of the action before our wave started.

Spectators were able to watch the very end of the course, which afforded us a pretty good view of the fire that we would be jumping over and the mud that we would be crawling through later. What surprised me in watching some of the earlier waves finish was how many racers were completely adverse to the idea of submerging themselves in mud. We must have watched half a dozen different people try to walk through it daintily (which is difficult with the barbed wire suspended just above the pit) or try to completely bypass it, apparently hoping that the multitude of bystanders and the announcer just plain wouldn't notice (which we obviously did). I'm not saying that swimming neck deep in mud is my favorite thing in the world (more like top 8), but it was basically the only thing I knew about the Warrior Dash going in. I knew there would be running and obstacles and a mud pit that we'd have to crawl/swim through. They advertise the mud pit extensively. Every promotional picture is of someone covered head to toe in mud. How were these racers so surprised that there would be mud? Also, as I learned later when doing the course myself, it wasn't like this was the first mud they'd encountered in the race. They had already gone through a lot of muddy areas and swam across a lake! But whatever...

After watching those mud-hating pansies for a while, Maddy, Sue and I made our way over to the start corral. After a few pictures with the start line announcer (that he insisted on taking and we never actually saw), a quick performance of the Macarena from Maddy and me (you're welcome, everyone), and a countdown, we were off! Our first obstacle (though not technically an obstacle) was to run up and down a bunch of hills. Hundreds of them (or maybe like 8). It was terrible, and it was not long before I realized just how little training I'd done for the dash (or just how many donuts and kolaches I'd eaten that morning). I ran as far as I could, but had to start walking after the first few hills.

Our first actual obstacle was the planks, where we walked up an angled plank with rungs, walked across a narrower plank, then walked down another angled plank. Piece of cake. Maddy and I started running again afterwards, but I couldn't go too far before having to slow to a walk. I told Maddy that she could go on without me if she wanted, as I suspect that she could have still run more, but she's pretty great, so she walked with me. Next, we came to a series of trenches topped with barbed wire that we had to crawl through. A lot of people just kind of crouched and walked through them, but not realizing that was a viable option, I crawled on my hands and knees. Let me tell you, muddy rocks are very uncomfortable on the knees. Farther down the trail, we arrived at the fire poles. Here, we had to climb up these giant steps (where I kind of felt like my baby nephew when he tries going up normal steps), then slide down the fire pole. This was the first actually frightening obstacle that we encountered, because the pole was very high. I never even used to slide down the fire poles at my elementary school playground, even though I was more than half as tall as they were, because the concept frightened me so. Maddy encouraged me though, assuring me that it was easy and not scary and as long as I held on it would be fine. Eventually, I manned up and slid safely to the ground (but without doing the reverse pinwheel that I had learned in those two pole dancing classes I took), and we continued on our way.

Next up were the over/unders, the climb-up/slide-down, and the horizontal cargo net (I'm really good at naming things). The over/unders were just like they sound. We jumped over a fence, then crawled under a fence, and repeated a bunch of times. Unfortunately, I am not strong enough to do that action movie thing where you jump up and leap over kind of on your side...

thusly...

so instead, I just had to jump up and awkwardly hoist myself over each wall...

... gallantly.

At the climb-up/slide-down, we climbed up some beams, and, you guessed it, slid down the other side. That one was a little scary because it was a very steep slide from a high starting point (but mostly scary because the sliding process pulled up my shirt - good news, because I dress in layers, I was able to avoid flashing everyone). At the horizontal cargo net, we climbed up a net to an elevated, horizontal portion, then made our way across it. Most people crawled on all fours across, making sure to stabilize themselves by keeping their feet on the joints; I, on the other hand, just rolled across. I heard some remarks about it being an easy way out or whatever, but as far as I see it, rolling was an efficient and effective way of reaching the same end without actually cutting any corners.

Then, we waded through some crotch-deep muddy water and nearly fell multiple times on very slippery mud, before arriving at the lake. We waded in and hopped down the drop off so that we were about chest-deep in the water, at which point I realized that I could no longer breathe. Apparently, my body went into mini-shock or something due to the cold temperature of the water (something that happened to a large percentage of the participants I talked to afterwards). It was very unpleasant, but Maddy told me to keep taking slow, easy breaths until I acclimated again. Don't worry, I lived (or did I? ooOOooOOoo - because I would be the lame kind of ghost that spends her time blogging). We crossed the lake, climbed over the weird buoy barriers in the middle, and emerged on the other side to continue on our way. Only 5 more obstacles to go!

Slap an ectoplasmic hair bow on there and this is
basically what I would be like

Next were the vertical cargo net, the repelling wall, and the lava pit (seriously, Maddy, if you can think of any better, more descriptive names for these obstacles, I would really appreciate it). At the vertical cargo net, we climbed up and over the same material that I had rolled across earlier like a ladder. At the repelling wall, we held a rope and used it to help us walk up a wall before climbing down the other side. That obstacle wouldn't have been scary if not for the fact that since everyone had just been through the lake, all of the foot holds were covered in slippery mud, but we made it unscathed and no worse for the wear. The lava pit wall was fun, because while I don't think it was their intent, I pretended there was a lava pit beneath me. It was a wall with a tiny foothold ledge and one rope spanning the distance at the top set above a muddy, swampy pit. The number and location of other people on the wall would determine the tautness and sturdiness of the rope we were holding onto, which made it interesting. We made it across (without being burnt to a crisp by the imaginary lava) and headed towards the finale.

Before we could reach the finish line, however, we had to complete the final two obstacles, the very same ones that I had been watching from the sidelines earlier: the fire jump and mud pit. Although I had been a little nervous that I'd be the first person in the history of the Warrior Dash to trip on a rock or something and fall face first into the fire (classic Jenny), it turns out that my fears were unfounded, as I leaped safely over the flames without any dying at all (yay). Finally, it was time for the mud pit. Unlike most of the other mud we had encountered that day, which was usually a few inches of very slippery mud that would suction your feet in and trap you, this was basically a two feet deep pool of muddy water. As a result, I was able to basically float on the top, using just my arms to pull me the whole way. The only two actual dangers of this obstacle were the barbed wire covering the pit (which was easy to avoid if you just got in the mud normally... it was pretty much only the people that must have forgotten this was a mud run and tried to avoid the mud as much as possible by walking upright that could potentially have gotten hurt) and the rocks and stuff that were at the bottom (which I'm pretty sure we all scraped up our legs on a lot).

We emerged from the mud, covered from neck to toe (because even though I knew it was inevitable to get covered, I still had no intention of submerging my head and face as well), and made it to the finish line to get our medals! Hooray!

We met up with Jeff, Liz, and Sue (Jeff and Liz had been in the wave before ours) and made a bee line to fire hose station to get hosed off. After changing into some relatively mud free clothes and donating our muddy disgusting shoes to their we'll-clean-these-up-and-give-them-to-people-who-need-shoes program (or alternatively, their we-know-you-never-want-to-handle-these-shoes-again-so-we'll-take-them-off-your-hands program), we donned our free warrior hats began the actual main event of the day, eating turkey legs and day drinking.

We enjoyed the live bands (with hilarious backup dancers) and saw a number of costumed competitors.

We also made some friends, Disney princess style.

This is only one of many butterflies that hung out with
us all afternoon. They were very friendly.

After getting sufficiently sunburned to prove to our friends and co-workers that we did actually come here, we started the long drive home. Never had a long shower and nap on the couch been so refreshing.

So how did we do?
It took me 1:03:51 to finish the course, which puts me in the top 84.6%.
It's not as fast as I would have liked, but with no training, a lot of breakfast, and ample amounts of terror, my time was not as terrible as I was expecting.

From left to right: Liz, Sue, Jeff, Maddy, and me

Have you ever done an adventure race? Did you ever watch Danny Phantom? Are you totally jealous of our hats?

P.S. Maddy, thanks for pacing yourself to me when I couldn't run anymore or took forever to finish the obstacles. I know that you could have finished the dash much faster had I not been slowing you down, and I appreciate it.

Running, revisited, and my plans to eat copious amounts of tacos

Good news everybody, I've started running again! And no, you aren't experiencing deja vu; I just make this claim frequently (such as here and here).

After the Hot Chocolate Run, I kind of stopped my running regimen. Granted, I still did 3 races after that (The Color Run, the Firefly Run, and the Warrior Dash (which I promise I will recap some day)), but each with less and less training (and less and less success). In fact, until last night, I had only even attempted to go running thrice since April. My first attempt, which was in May, was actually moderately successful. I tired out, but I didn't give up. Also, I got to explore the neighborhood near my then-new apartment! My second attempt, during the heat of the day in June, resulted in me just walking the entire path and almost passing out from dehydration (well, dehydration and being a drama queen). My third attempt was somehow even less successful, in that I didn't even make it out the front door (I'm trying to set a record for the most links to other equally uninteresting blog posts). And that was that. I was done with running. It was too hot outside and I was far too lazy to keep it up.

Earlier this week, however, I got an e-mail about an upcoming 5k, and while that one looked really boring and just all around awful (why would you have a race that celebrates how ridiculously hot it is outside?), it got me thinking about other 5ks that might be coming up. Finally, after some light googling, I came across one that was too alluring to pass up: the Great Taco Run.

I think their logo could only be better if the taco were
sweating hot sauce.

Just in time for National Taco Day (which I guess is a thing), the Great Taco Run takes place at the end of September. This should give me enough time to reboot my Couch-to-5k program so that I will have a fighting chance of not embarrassing myself. I mean, not embarrassing myself with how poorly I run. I do, however, plan on embarrassing myself with how many tacos (as prepared by a slew of local vendors) I will eat immediately after the race. 9am is the perfect time for tacos, right? Wrong. Every time is the perfect time for tacos.

Anyhoo, on Tuesday, I realized that with the race a mere 7.5 weeks away, it was time to get crackin'. I needed a plan. The Couch-to-5k program is supposed to last 8 weeks, so it wouldn't be that far off target. However, I am going to be out of town and unable to run at all for a few days this week, so I needed to stream line the process. In order to figure this out, I was going to need ingenuity, cunning, and most importantly, ORGANIZATION!

If Twilight Sparkle, inept at everything non-magic as she is,
was able to save the Winter Wrap-Up with nothing more than
a clipboard and her checklist, surely I could figure out a way
to cram an 8 week training program into 6.5 weeks, right?

I grabbed a calendar and starting marking down all the training runs I planned on doing in the next two months. The resulting schedule showed me finishing up the program about a week before the Great Taco Run. The secret to how I was able to trim off so much time? Skipping integral parts entirely. I started the program last night with the designated Week 2 - Day 1 run, bypassing Week 1 altogether, because it's what a rebel does.

Self portrait, basically.

The run itself went well. Although it only involved 2 minutes of running at a time, I was still somewhat challenged after not running for so long. It would have been disheartening, except that when I thought back to where I was about a year and a half ago, when I had barely run at all ever, I was able to see how much I've improved. Before, I wouldn't have been able to run those two minutes without gasping for air, clutching my sides, and giving up (with an extra serving of giving up). Also, because I accidentally got caught up in some TV shows for too long after work yesterday, I happened to not go running until it was already cool and nice outside. It was a win-win!

I've planned to do my Week 2-Day 2 run tonight after my kickboxing class, so let's hope my legs still function afterwards.

Does anyone want to take bets on how many tacos my friends and I will eat? Since it'll be in the morning, do you think they'll have breakfast tacos? Isn't it weird that this will be the first 5k I've signed up for without Maddy (who moved out of state a month or so ago)? Do you like how I felt it necessary to link to the same previous blog post in two separate locations?

Glow the Distance - the 2012 Firefly Run

I will always have soft spot in my heart for the Firefly Run. Taking place last June, it was the first running event I ever voluntarily participated in and might have been the first time I ever felt good about running. I had trained for it (sort of), prepared for it (by making light up tutus with my friends), and beat a couple personal records (like running for 6 minutes without whimpering). I had a genuinely (Jenny-uinely?) good time running with some of my closest friends and left feeling good about myself and what I could accomplish. It gave me the confidence to keep running (albeit sparsely) and the encouragement I needed to sign up for even more races! Since then, I've participated in the Hot Chocolate Run, the Color Run, the Warrior Dash, and, of course, the 3rd Annual Firefly Run!

Why did they use a phoenix for the logo?

I'll be honest, despite the soft spot in my heart, when March 31 (race day) came around, I was less than excited. I had probably done less training and prep for this race than any other running event I've been in (with the exception of the Warrior Dash, but more on that later). I had only been running once since the Color Run, which took place over a month before the Firefly Run. Rather than try to get a full night of sleep, I had stayed out until 4 in the morning the previous night and got up four hours later to attend an Easter egg hunt with my sister and nephew (it was super cute watching the little one-year-old try to figure out how to pick up eggs and put them in a basket). Instead of eating nutritious meals that would be a good source of energy during the race, I ate half a pizza, passed out on my couch, and woke up only when Hannah called to say that she was running late but was on her way to my place so we could ride to the event together. Once we got to the starting area, however, I was pumped and raring to go (I think the plethora of glow sticks we brought with us had something to do with that). Once we waved to the helicopter flying overhead (slow news day, apparently) and finished the countdown, we were off!

Hannah and I ran the first 1.25 miles (roughly - I'm bad at judging distances) before we started walking. We then started running again at the start of the third mile. After about 6 minutes, we broke into a walk again (because that first mile really took it out of me). As we approached the finish line (or so we thought), we started running again. Unfortunately, we had been bamboozled into thinking the race was almost over. Had we studied the course map (does anyone actually do that?), we would have known that the course was going to take us near the finish, only to curve and loop around (like a conniving jerk). Regardless, we kept running until the end to collect our participant bracelets and complimentary bottles of water.

This year, we decided to skip most of the after-party and just head back to my place. This proved to be a good idea because it took us forever to find my car (we might have accidentally re-walked a good portion of the course trying to find the parking garage - it's confusing when the start and finish areas for a race are in different locations).

I forgot my camera, so here is a picture of a bunch of
strangers that I stole from the Firefly Run website.

Even though I trained very little for this race, I think it went very well. In fact, I found it rather promising and encouraging. Up until then, it had always been my lungs that forced me to slow down and stop running. At the Firefly Run, however, it was my legs that were having problems keeping up. Rather than worry that my legs are getting weaker, I'm just going to
assume that my lungs are finally getting stronger, which is awesome.

Results: Time spent running: 24:03 (last year - 12:00ish)
Total race time: 43:14 (last year - 51:00ish)
Placement: 3431 (Hannah) and 3433 (Me) out of 4945 - top 70% (last year - barely top 90%)


Do you ever study course maps before a race so that curves don't come as so much of a surprise? Isn't it upsetting that we saw people who were running the 10k course passing us by the end? Wouldn't "glow the distance" have been a way better motto than "chase the night and win"?

Color Me Happy and Month Old Recaps

If you knew anything about me, you would know that I'm typically very good at finding opportunities to look like an idiot in public. Usually, this is involuntary and cannot be helped. Occasionally, however, I put myself in these situations willingly and with enthusiasm. Such was the case last month when I participated in the Color Run.

Maddy, Hannah, and me before the race

The Color Run, benefiting the American Heart Association, is a 5k that focuses much less on running and much more on being silly (so right up my alley). At each kilometer, runners go through color zones where volunteers throw fistfuls of color powder at passersby. In addition, everyone receives a packet of color with their registration (with the opportunity to purchase more) for use in the Finish Line Color Explosions (I was originally given a red packet, which I successfully traded with a friend for a pink one, because as we all know, pink is way better).

It worked well for me that the Color Run put very little emphasis on actually running, because between running the Hot Chocolate Run eight days before and helping Maddy pack up for her move into Hannah's duplex, I was pretty exhausted. It didn't bother me that everyone started cutting corners (at one point, everyone disregarded the confusingly spaced cones altogether and bypassed part of the route), and I didn't mind that it wasn't event a timed event [I did try timing it myself - according to my watch, we finished the race in 48:12 (that's making the unlikely assumption that I managed to start and stop the timer accurately)]. In fact, I think that everyone was a little relieved that it was a very informal event. Otherwise, keeping seven of us together for a 3.1 mile run would have been a little difficult.

Team: Color Me Happy
From left to right: Liz, Maddy, Hannah, Brian,
Jenny (me), Jeff, and Lauren

  

After making it through the treacherous course (of even pavement), we rewarded ourselves with a delicious and colorful brunch at Ozona's!

I want this picture of Maddy's hand to become next year's ad.

Have you ever participated in any of these color events? Do you also suffer from looking ridiculous in public? Do you also think it strange that they hosted a color-themed event on a Sunday? I mean, it wouldn't be a problem except that there was no way I would have been able to get all the residual color out of my skin/hair before work the next morning.

Will Run for Chocolate: the Hot Chocolate Race and Guilt-Free Fondue

Saturday morning, I woke up at 6am, surprisingly excited. Despite the sudden drop in temperature (it had gone from 70 degrees to 25 degrees in the matter of a couple days), I was raring to go! I got up, ate a breakfast of delicious applesauce (applesauce is always so good when it's chilled), and got dressed in pants, two pairs of knee socks, a tank top, a long sleeve shirt, two jackets, a fuzzy ear piece and gloves (yet, I still felt like I needed more layers). After checking the map and the weather one more time with Maddy (I had stayed on her couch the night before, because I live way too far away for such an early morning commute), we got into her car and headed to Fair Park, where we would be running in the Hot Chocolate 5k.

In spite of terrible logistics regarding traffic conduction and parking, we made it into our corral and waited our turn to start the race. The music selection at the start line was pretty great and the crowd was enthusiastic. Everything was perfect (notwithstanding the fact that I could barely feel parts of my legs and face due to the low temperatures). After a few unsuccessful attempts at starting line pictures and a brief countdown from the announcer, we were off!

Maddy and I attempted navigating through the crowds without getting separated from one another, which had the lovely side effect of forcing us to pace ourselves (even if the pace was a little slower than usual), and everything was going along swimmingly. Almost a mile in, we even ran into (haha! ran!) a few of our friends from kickball! More accurately, they ran up to us (and tickled us, like the athletic jerks they are). Unfortunately, it was just enough distraction that I totally didn't notice the gaping chasm right in front of me (or tiny pothole, whatever) and fell (good thing my cat like reflexes kept me from toppling over completely and enabled me to recover in what I can only assume was an extremely graceful way).

We got through the first mile before slowing to a walk. Seeing as running a mile straight was my goal for the race, I was pretty stoked (albeit tired and somehow overheated and super cold at the same time). We walked the rest of the second mile and took the opportunity to catch our breath, stow away some of our extraneous layers, and re-tie our shoes.

When thanking Maddy for her support,
she simply said "You got me to the race,
so I got you through the race."
Hooray for prepositions!

We started running again at the 2 mile mark and attempted to finish the race without breaking! As we approached the 3 mile mark, however, I had decided that I'd had enough. Gasping for air and complaining of stomach pains, I slowed to a saunter and told Maddy to go on without me. She would have none of that though, and kept shouting encouragement at me until I rejoined her a moment later. We crossed the 3 mile mark then the finish line (at 3.1 miles), and it felt so good (except that I was still gasping for air and wanted nothing more than to sit down... which we then did).

After recovering for a bit, we made our way into the after party where we were handed the most beautiful tray I've ever seen. Well, the tray itself was plastic and boring, but ON the tray were fruit slices, marshmallows, a Rice Krispies treat and a cup of chocolate fondue. It might possibly have been the most delicious chocolate fondue I've ever tasted. However, since chocolate doesn't usually hit the spot at 9am, we left and made our way to a celebratory breakfast. It was the best day.


How did we do? Great!
We ran for 23:40 total and completed the race in 40:55. That's almost 10 minutes faster than last year's Firefly Run! Also, we came in 2985 and 2986 out of 4214, putting us in the top 71%.

I hope we can do as well this Sunday at the Color Run!


What motivates you when you want to give up? Is it strange that the coldest day of the season thus far was the morning of our race, and less than a week later I'm back to wearing short sleeves out? Why do they insist on handing out the grossest flavor of Gatorade at the hydration stations when there are so many delicious options out there?

When taking this picture, all I could think of was that Halloween
episode of the Big Bang Theory, when they all happened to show up
as the Flash. It was suggested that rather than change, they all walk
in a line all night to make it look like it was one Flash going really fast.
I think Maddy, that 2 dimensional stick figure, and I acheive the same effect.



"I never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth!"

What had I said to cause my mom to make such an exclamation? No, it wasn't anything offensive. No, I hadn't been cursing. I had merely stated "well, I'm off for a run, be back soon!"

We were staying with my grandma for the weekend, and I had decided to take advantage of the midafternoon lull by going out to continue my training. While Mom knows that I've been running lately, she has spent the last 22 years (which would have been 23 had I learned to talk earlier) enduring my near-constant complaints about how awful running is and how  much I detest it. Needless to say, even though we are both cognitively aware that I've been running, I think we're both still a little surprised that I'm doing so voluntarily.

With an upcoming onslaught of 5Ks (Maddy and I for some reason thought it would be a good idea to register for four different 5Ks in the next couple months), we figured it was about time to get back into our training, and have been pretty consistently following our Couch-to-5K program since restarting it a couple months ago. Granted, we tend to take slightly longer breaks between running intervals than directed, but I think that when running in the cold, our lungs need that extra minute to thaw a bit.



Firefly Run 2011; Kim, Hannah, Maddy, and me

 You might be wondering, "Jenny, why are you doing so many 5Ks?" Well, the answer is simple; I have no earthly idea. Actually, I'm doing them because they all seem fun. Each upcoming race has its own unique theme that we just couldn't pass up.

• The Hot Chocolate Run, supporting the Ronald McDonald House Charities - One word: Chocolate. A lot more words: Ghirardelli is hosting the after party and will be serving hot chocolate and chocolate fondue. I was hooked from the moment Amanda mentioned it after our kickball game last week! (Side note: we totally made it to round 2 of the kickball playoffs... more info to come)
• The Color Run, supporting the American Heart Association - Jeff brought this to our attention, and I feel like any event that involves people getting hit with wave after wave of color powder is alright by me! Apparently, during the Color Run, you get hit with a new color at every kilometer, only to emerge looking like you've been tie-dyed. Our team name is Color Me Happy; I'm pretty pumped.




That skirt will be
perfect for
St. Patty's Day!


• St. Patty's Day 5k, supporting our food bank - Maddy, being of extremely Irish descent couldn't say no to the opportunity to kick off the St. Patrick's Day Festivities in town with the annual 5K. The race basically starts the entire party, and afterwards, runners can then enjoy the live music, some free beverages, and watch the parade. I think it's going to be awesome, and at the very least will give me the opportunity to wear the skirt I made for Halloween again (I went as Marvin the Martian).
• And finally, the Firefly Run, supporting the Children's Medical Center - This was the first 5K (and despite my illusions of running grandeur, the only 5K) I've ever done. Although the event is taking place long before firefly season this year, it's still held at dusk. We're dusting off our light up tutus now (metaphorically), and getting ready to glow the distance (note: "Glow the distance" is not currently the motto for the Firefly run, but I'm thinking about writing a letter to let the organizers know how clever I am)!

Are there any races you plan on participating in? Do you think I can beat my time from my last 5k (which, at 50:52, probably could have been crab-walked faster)? Is anyone else questioning my sanity right now?

Winter Running and the Dorkiest Thing I've Done All Year

Wow. It has gotten cold! Like, chug-multiple-cups-of-boiling-hot-chocolate-just-so-that-you-can-stop-shivering-even-though-you're-indoors cold (I can't say that the mouth burns and stomach ache were worth it, but it did warm me up). So, perfect time to start running again, right? Right. And no, I refuse to run on a treadmill due to previous unpleasant experiences (it tricked me into thinking I was getting good at running!), so all of my running will be done outside.

I must admit that while I was dreading it, running in the cold isn't all that bad. My face may have gone numb, but at least I don't sweat as much. My lungs may have burned from the cold air, but at least I didn't feel nauseous like I do when I run in the heat. I may have had to use a hair dryer to thaw my legs when I got back, but at least I now have a good excuse to buy pants (my summer running capris just aren't cutting it in the winter... and no amount of knee socks have been able to change that). I think my favorite part about running in the cold (other than the fact that no one else is out running, so less people are there to witness how inept I am) is that I run so much faster! I think this is due to a combination of wanting to finish up and get back inside as fast as possible (which is funny because I base my runs on time rather than distance... so it literally makes no difference how fast I go) and wanting to get moving in general because the increased blood flow warms you up (which is probably the dominant factor).

Another upside to running in the cold? I get to wear a hoodie, and hoodies have pockets. My summer running attire has only one tiny pocket built into the tramp-stamp region of the waist of my capris. This pocket is only large enough to fit a key and possibly, with a lot of jimmying and finessing,  the access card I need to get into my apartment. Also, since it's located on the small of my back, whatever is stored in said pocket inevitably gets as drenched in sweat as I do. My hoodie, on the other hand, has four pockets: two on the outside and two on the inside. When I go running in my hoodie, I could take all of my keys, my phone, my iPod (which I don't actually take because I am a static electricity machine, so running in the cold with ear buds usually results in my ears getting shocked with every stride), and up to 3 novels (for what we like to call "X-treme Night Reading").

Now before you start thinking that I'm lobbying to become the spokesperson for the National Hoodie Council, I should confess that running with a hoodie does have its downside. The long sleeves of the hoodie cover up my watch, and as I base all of my running intervals on lengths of time, watch visibility tends to be a big issue. As a result, I've started wearing my watch on the outside of my sleeve when doing any sort of outdoor training, which, as you can all imagine, is pretty attractive and not super lame at all (it's almost as bad as that one time I wore the anklet my high school boyfriend gave me on the outside of my uniform knee socks because I wanted to show it off to my classmates).

But pockets and speed aside, I think running in the cold will be good practice for the 5k that my kickball team has signed up for in February... at about the time of year that we usually have our annual ice storm. In the meantime, I'll enjoy running by all the houses decorated for the holidays.


Do you prefer running in the summer, winter, or never? Is there anything I can do to mitigate the static shocks while running so that I can finally listen to some music? Want to join my X-treme Night Reading league?