Race report: Bix 7

The Bix — and my performance at it — far exceeded my low expectations, I am very happy to report.

Here's how I did with each goal.

* Focus on the experience. My friend Emily's advice, on the eve of the race, was to have fun with it, and that turned out to be a cinch.

I will say that pre-race logistics were a little annoying; parking far away and biking to the closed-off area worked out perfectly, but once I got to the staging area, it seemed like I turned into a pinball, bouncing from volunteer to volunteer who gave sometimes conflicting directions on where I should be and how to get there.

From the minute I got to where I needed to be up until the post-race party, though, I was fully able to soak in the sights and sounds.

The music along the route was as good as advertised (special shout-out to the brass band playing "Barbara Ann" along Brady Street, and the bongo drummers around the turnaround point who invited runners to take a swipe at their instruments as they passed).

The spectators were genuinely enthusiastic about watching, and there was indeed a slip-n-slide that people actually used. I would've felt slightly cheated had I not spotted that ... even though I had no intention of hopping on it myself.

My favorite sign, though, wasn't on a spectator; it was on a participant. The back of one youngster's shirt asked: "Can you run faster than a fifth-grader?" I wish I knew — I spotted him when the race was still fairly crowded, so I don't know whether he shot ahead of me or fell way behind.

* Don't walk. Done!

I started out speedier than I anticipated and thought I felt myself slowing down later in the race, but at most I slowed to an easy jog during the water stops.

Speaking of walking, let me rant one more time about people who line up closer to the front than the back and then proceed to walk right away ... in a race of literally THOUSANDS of people.

Seriously, folks. You spent at least 15 minutes waiting for the race to start and stared at the opening hill the entire time. If you didn't think you could run it, you should've moved farther back before the gun even went off.

* Finish under 1:10:00. SMASHED. Pie in the sky? More like a piece of cake, evidently.

My chip time was 1:03:27 (9:04 pace) — meaning I notched a negative split, because my first-half chip pace was 9:15.

That was a shock to me. I thought I'd gone out too hard given the heat and humidity (not to mention the infamous hills).

So that leads me to my most boastful observation of all: The hills weren't that bad, and/or I trained really freakin' smart.

Yes, I could tell I was putting in an effort, but it felt no different than tackling any of the hills I hate around Des Moines ... you know, the same ones I made sure to run twice a week for the past month or so.

The tl;dr version of this post is: I'd do it again and encourage others to join me. And I'll actually be wearing the T-shirt, because despite it being a unisex small, it fits me decently.

Goals for the Bix 7

I don't have any special excuses for not blogging for almost a month (!), so I'll just acknowledge the silence and move on ...

Yes, I'm still doing the Bix 7. Quite a few pieces of this experience will be different from the past three years' worth of races I've done.

Totally new: racing seven miles; sleeping in a tent the night before (I'm joining my RAGBRAI friends in Coralville just so I can see Cheap Trick!); and coordinating a finish-line viewing with other out-of-towners (my parents are coming in from Rockton to watch my race and then hang out).

Unfamiliar: traveling any farther than a half-hour — and outside my metro area — to a race; racing a distance that isn't 5K or a half marathon; picking a race between Memorial Day and Labor Day; and doing a race where my goals are basically no loftier than "finish."

What are my goals? In a second.

First, let me emphasize how glad I am that they're so underwhelming, because pretty much all conditions will be against me Saturday: hills PLUS 90 percent humidity, with the start-time temperature at 75 degrees. It should, at least, be overcast.

With that said, don't laugh too hard at how lame my aspirations are.

Most attainable: Beat my friend Emily's 2012 time of 1:19:03 (11ish-minute miles).

That summer was awful, so I'm not judging her ... but back when it was still late spring and I was fresh off my half marathon PR, I thought this seemed like a piece of cake.

Midrange goal: Focus on the experience and not the difficulties.

Lofty goal: Don't walk.

Pie-in-the-sky goal: Finish under 1:10:00 (faster than 10-minute miles).

I haven't trained hard — running twice a week — and much of the summer has been mild, but I haven't let myself avoid hills, and I have stayed active. So I'm not really sure what to expect ...

... except beer and ice cream. Bent River, here I come!

What I'm doing instead of the Des Moines Marathon

Most readers of this blog had no idea I was even considering the Des Moines Marathon, so the declaration that I've decided against it doesn't have quite the impact.

After my half marathon success, I began to wonder whether I should take on a new challenge, and the obvious next step seemed to be a marathon.

The even more obvious next step seemed to be the Des Moines Marathon: It takes place in late October; I live near one of the more challenging portions of the race; and I now work from home on flexible hours.

What I didn't account for, though, was the freedom of no longer working nights and weekends. I've been taking full advantage of this new development — it's like summer break for grownups, because there's time to play and income to fund the fun.

There were a few other factors pushing me away from the marathon, but that was the primary one.

Here are the races I'm considering instead:

Bix 7 (July 25). I still have to figure out whether I trust myself to not party too hard during the July 24 Cheap Trick concert in Coralville and then wake up at 5 a.m. to get to Davenport by 6:30 a.m. for day-of packet pickup.

Also, I'll be honest: Racing in Des Moines has spoiled me when it comes to race-day travel. With the exception of RAGBRAI 2014, I've barely given transportation and parking a thought since I left Rockton.

But the outlook looks fairly promising. I'm struggling with motivation to run, and encouraged by the general feasibility of doing this race.

Capital Pursuit (Sept. 20). The website claims it's a fast race, so we'll see whether I can beat my last 10-mile race, which definitely incorporated hills. This will force me to train, but not to suffer: I'd probably start training the last week of July (or early August, if I do the Bix 7).

Sycamore 8 (early December). An off-road race in the Midwest in early winter? If that doesn't say "new challenge," I don't know what does.

Half marathon wild cards: I would consider doing the NewBo half marathon (Sept. 6), the Des Moines half (Oct. 18) or the Hillbilly Hike (Nov. 7).

Friends have expressed vague interest in doing the NewBo half and the Des Moines half, so I offered to run with them should they decide to do so. Also, NewBo and Hillbilly both also host a 10K; I could use those as a baseline, if 10K becomes next year's speed target.

And finally (geez, I ramble), I have two formal bike rides actually planned: this weekend's Bacoon Ride, which we could manage to stretch into a century ride, and more importantly, the Tour de Fur on Aug. 30, which benefits Furry Friends Refuge!

Race report: Woofin' It 5K

Funny that a race I spend so much time talking up to people and eagerly anticipating ends up being a blog post I just never write.

(Turns out starting a brand-new job immediately after the old one finishes, then going out of town every weekend, will put you behind on your personal to-do list.)

Anyways, nearly a month ago now, I did my third straight Woofin' It 5K, which as everyone knows benefits Furry Friends Refuge animal shelter, the place that saved my Dusty cat and has since hired me. Obviously a great cause :)

Other factors that made this Woofin' It especially pleasantly memorable:

The weather was as perfect as weather gets. Cory and I biked out to Campbell Recreation Area in the morning, enjoyed a humidity-free run, then rode to dine outdoors in Waukee, all in total comfort.

We again shared a dog, though we could have each taken one of our own, and she was perfect. She pulled a bit early in the race, but then mellowed out; she didn't bark or lunge at anyone; she had a purple collar on to match my purple T-shirt ...

... and her name was Sadie.

Proudly crossing the finish line!

People came up to me after the race to ask what "my" dog's name was and praise her. I felt pretty proud, even though I'd done absolutely nothing except let her enjoy the outdoors.

(Hey, Des Moines readers, just an FYI that Sadie's still available for adoption. Sadye, on the other hand, is content in her forever home.)

And ... that's about it, I guess. Maybe next time I should blog closer to the actual event, so that I have more stories to share. (Though in my defense, we missed the costume contest because we left late, and during the race I was a bit stressed out by something that had happened at my now-former job.)

Race report: Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon

This won't come as a surprise to anyone who follows me on Instagram, but this year's Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon was the polar opposite of my 2013 experience.

The short version: Race-day weather was perfect, I didn't stop to walk once, and I finished with a milestone personal record that far exceeded my goals.

The numbers: 1:58:59 (9:05 pace) overall; 56:32 (9:08 pace) at 10K; 1:02:27 (9:03 pace) for the final 6.9 miles.

I did Bulldog Hill in 4:19:54, which because I never bothered to time myself during training doesn't mean a whole lot. My preliminary results sheet says that was good for 17th in my division (in comparison, my 10K rank was 38 and my total race rank was 25).

So, to back up, for anyone who cares. Cory and I both decided to keep the 2:00:00 pacers within our sights for as long as it felt OK. That turned out to be the entire race, though how close they were did vary. (We figured out eventually that they went out a bit fast to bank time on the hills.)

I didn't feel fantastic starting out, but by mile 2 it became apparent to me that it was simply a matter of warming up. Everything felt springy and good until close to mile 7.

At that point, we'd changed directions, and we both actually started to get a little too hot. I even had a moment of light-headedness, so I made sure to get some water at the next aid station. That, plus a light breeze and more shade along the route, seemed to do the trick.

Somewhere after mile 8, Cory and I made a friend whose name we forgot to ask and for whom we later wished we'd waited at the finish line. We chatted with Mr. Quad Cities for nearly three miles about beer, pets and careers (as well as running) — a really nice way for us to keep our minds off the hills ahead.

Speaking of hills, the worst one for me was actually up Fleur Drive back to downtown. Not only was it the only one I hadn't practiced, but also it was very exposed to the strongest winds we'd felt yet that day.

After that, Cory and I were feeling much more confident: We'd entered our home turf. Up Grand we went, trying to encourage all the walkers (in an honest, voice-of-experience way), and turned onto 28th ... at which point I got butterflies.

We were so close at that point. I knew I had locked down all my safe goals, but only Cory had a sense for just how well we were doing. But so close didn't mean so easy.

Just as we got to the intersection of 28th and Ingersoll, I glanced at the spectators and saw co-worker Chris, there to cheer on his girlfriend with their beautiful dog. He recognized me too and yelled some encouragement, and I shouted back that I'd practiced on Bulldog Hill, I had it in the bag.

And maybe that was the pep talk I needed — not from him, but from myself — so up I went, passing quite a few walkers on the way. (What a jerk, right?)

Not long after we crested the hill, Cory turned to me and said he was gonna step it up. This came right as I felt the worst, far enough from the hill where we'd both caught our breath, but close enough where the fatigue had suddenly all settled into my left quad.

"Go ahead," I said. "I don't have anything extra." He tried to be encouraging, but I let a little whine creep into my voice as I insisted I really didn't.

I'm sure I slowed up some, yet I never lost sight of Cory. And once I was within sight of University Avenue and had about a mile left, my legs found a second wind.

I have never, ever, felt so strong during mile 12 of a race. Not even during the 2013 Des Moines Half Marathon, when I PR'ed by eight minutes. I did pass a few people and gained some ground on Cory, and my revival was rewarded when I entered the stadium ...

... this year, you barely had to run around the track. Instead of a quarter-mile left, I had not even a quarter of the track!

My spirits went from great to over the moon. I think I yelled "f--- yeah two hours!" as I sprinted that final leg, arms in the air, tossing that monkey off my back with conviction.

Once more: 1:58:59. I cleared 2:00:00 with a whole minute to spare. There is literally nothing I can think of, from my taper week through mile 13.09, that I wish I'd done differently or better.

Time to kick back for a week and bask in my glory before deciding what's next.

Hy-Vee Half Marathon forecasts

We still have a whole week for this to change, but I am optimistic about the weather for this year's Hy-Vee Half Marathon.

A week of temperatures in the low to mid-60s lies ahead, which will be a welcome contrast with 2013's race-day weather. Unlike in 2013, though, I've had a chance to run long in warmer weather, so the system will be less shocked. Probably still angry, but less shocked.

And also unlike 2013, I don't have a slew of ambitious race-day goals. My goal had been to get into shape for a 5K personal record (mission accomplished) and to feel less miserable during this particular race.

Cory and I have discussed, casually, what time range we'd like to see out of ourselves, though. He'd like to beat his 2014 Dam to Dam time (2:08) -- as would I, actually, given that Dam to Dam was my second-best half marathon time.

We haven't timed our long runs, so I don't have anything more specific that I think I can do. Also, I don't want to start building up expectations with the reality of spring weather and late, steep hills.

However, I don't think it would be unrealistic to hope for a 2:05:00 finish, along with ending with a smile. That would pretty decisively wipe out memories of 2014 Dam to Dam and 2013 Hy-Vee Half.

Race report: Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K

When I woke up Sunday, there was no sign of rain to come; there was, however, a weather alert on my phone: "wind advisory."

Great, I thought. But without that wind, I don't know that I'd be able to say the 2015 Friendly Sons of St. Patrick 5K was one of my best races yet.

Not because I notched a personal record (which I did — 23:35!) or because I got an age group award (third place among ladies 20-29), but because it wasn't necessarily an easy day and yet I did not give up.

Toasting our victories: We both finished in under 24:00 and in third place in our respective age groups. 

The first half of the race was the worst part, in terms of the wind. I knew it would give me back what it had taken once we hit the turnaround, so I gritted my teeth and pushed through.

Sure enough, when we hit that turnaround, my pace went from feeling awkward and challenging to smooth ... and still a little challenging, given how much energy had already been used up.

Despite that, I had enough energy and optimism to thank the police at intersections, smile for a photographer and respond to cheering spectators. (Speaking of which: Check me out in this gallery!)

I was more tempted to slow down or stop to catch my breath during the final mile than I was during the first, but I did not yield. Thank God!

As I charged toward the finish line, I had no idea how well or poorly I was doing — I almost immediately had bumped the MapMyRun record-workout screen to an ad and also the friends page, and fiddling with my smartphone hadn't seemed worth it.

So when I saw 23:30 on the race clock, with steps left to go, I couldn't help gasping "oh my God" out of shock as well as fatigue.

It sure felt good to finish seconds after Cory instead of literally minutes. And to know that I focused on what I could control (my own effort) versus what I couldn't (the weather conditions).

The splits: first mile 7:20; second mile 7:36; third mile 7:30; final stretch, at a 6:36 pace (hello, downhill with a tailwind!).

What else can we conclude from this race performance? That every race day must begin with my sister sending photos of our family's tortie cat, Allie, and that my own cats are obligated to repeat this every race-day morning.

OK, so I imposed myself on Dusty, but he didn't flee!

Eating my words, spring half marathon edition

As promised, here comes my explanation for signing up for a spring half marathon, something I declared I wouldn't do again*.

The best explanation I have to offer is that this is a practice half marathon (there I go again, saying things that only "real" runners say).

A half marathon registration forces me to run, and that the training program puts me in optimum 5K shape, which I need in order to redeem myself after last year's Friendly Sons fail.

Yes, I could do these things without spending $60 to wear myself out on my day off work. I could also totally bail out on the financial commitment.

I probably won't do either, though. I'll spend two month being some combination of sore, sleepy and starving, complain about it the entire time, and then (finally) be grateful I did at the end of each race.

Nonrunners and some really intrinsically motivated runners might not understand, but I have full faith that most other runners are nodding their heads emphatically or empathetically.

My choice of race — the Hy-Vee Road Races half marathon — might also have some of you wondering about my sanity. In descending order of importance, my reasons for picking it are:

1. It's a month-plus earlier than Dam to Dam and on my regular day off of work. The timing thus hopefully works better for training and racing weather, and it definitely lines up better with the 5K race date.

2. The horrible hills at the end of this route are very close to where I live, so I can prepare myself — it won't make them that much easier, but it'll help me, mentally.

3. I know the route is a beast, and I know that race-day weather is a total crapshoot. With that in mind, I'm highly unlikely to secretly and/or realistically think about a PR attempt during what's supposed to be a shake-it-out event.

4. Cory and I were able to guilt friends into joining us. (Zach and Emily are totally going down.)

Base-building is in progress right now; full-on training starts Feb. 16-ish. Wish me luck.

* Have you noticed that of my first four posts in 2015, half of them address me retracting previous posts. So much humble pie.

My plan for returning to running

I haven't run in almost three weeks, but I have at least been thinking about it.

Specifically, I've taken time to be my own sports psychiatrist, and I've diagnosed myself as needing to ease back into running and learn to like it again.

So here's what I've come up with.

July 1: Open my mind back up to running. Twice a week at most. With only the expectation that it won't be easy or fast.

July 27-Aug. 3: Relax and rest up after RAGBRAI.

Aug. 4: Start a 10K training plan.

Last year, I started training for a half marathon at the beginning of August, right after I'd done RAGBRAI, and it worked out great. This year, the thought of doing that makes me tired and overheated.

As my hairdresser said when I told her I'd most likely skip the 2014 Des Moines Half Marathon: "Yeah, you wanna have fun during the summer."

Yes, I do. I like having something on the horizon, but the local long races are just too close to the dog days of August and two months of intensive biking.

A 10K seemed better-suited to the conditions. Plus, I've never done a road 10K race — only a nighttime trail one — so it'll be interesting to see what I can do.

Sept. 8: Do the Maffitt Lake five-mile. This should be the right combination of fun and challenging — i.e., exactly the kind of carrot/motivation I need.

Fun, because off-road running is scenic and lets me lower my expectations for myself without feeling like I'm a wimp, and challenging, because Living History Farms is the only off-road running I've done since moving to Des Moines.

Sept. 20 or 21: Do a 10K. Preferably the one on a Sunday, if I can find sign-up info and not just a date on the local sports store's race calendar.

Sept. 28: Do the Brew Mile. I again won't have time to do much mile-specific training, but I'll have more residual strength than I did before the Grand Blue Mile.

I'll have the power of the crowds pulling me along, and because I work Saturdays, I'll have the advantage of sobriety over the participants who have already hit up Oktoberfest.

Oct. 11: Do the Boone County 5K History Walk/Run. I'd better start thinking about a clever costume that also allows for good movement, because this time of year is much better for running.

If my schedule and motivation level allow, I might look for a serious 5K in hopes of breaking my PR, but I'm not going to stress about it. I'd rather be a little lazy the rest of this year than risk ruining my hobby for myself.

At long last, my Dam to Dam numbers

My missing Dam to Dam results have come in.

I did hear back from the results contact person a few days after I posted about being MIA (and of course emailed him).

As he said they would, the official stats — mine included — rolled in over this past weekend.

The good news is, they're not as ugly as my race photos, seven of which show me apparently trying not to cry.

The bad news is, the one silver lining I sought was more like a tin lining.

My five-mile time was 46:05. Remember how I thought I was just flying through the first six or so miles? If "flying" is 9:13 per mile, then I was right.

I mean, it was a good showing for my mental state and the weather conditions. It also wasn't far off the pace I would've needed to break 2:00:00.

My 10-mile time was 1:35:45. If I'm calculating correctly, that means I covered five miles in 49:40 — basically a 10:00-per-mile pace. Seems reasonable, given the amount of walking I began doing.

My overall time was 2:08:08, working out to a final 5K covered at a 10:25 pace. Which isn't bad at all for the limp-walk-cry method.

Absolutely I wish I'd done better and behaved better. Absolutely I'm disappointed.

But at the same time, with the perspective of some time and no running whatsoever, I'm honestly surprised in a good way to compare this to my 2011 then-PR of 2:08:32.

I ran the 2011 half marathon with seriously only one quick walk break, with the exception of water stops, and I still finished 24 seconds slower back then.

There is hope. But not until July.

Reasons to be excited about running again ... later

Every time we've seen a runner since Dam to Dam, Cory and I have said to each other "don't they know running is over now?" and thoroughly enjoyed it.

I have no urge to go on a run right now. (Nor do I have the ability, judging from my failed attempts to hurry while crossing the street.)

Yet I find myself thinking idly about what race to do next. That urge hasn't translated into actual Googling action, but it's slightly more active than dormant.

That's good, because two friends who aren't serious runners have expressed interest in future events:

* Annah, who did the St. Patrick's run, said she and her boyfriend had just been wondering what their next race should be, in response to my post-Dam text of "let's do 5Ks and 10Ks ... in the fall."

* And Chelsea, a fellow Warrior Dasher, sent me a text, seemingly out of nowhere, proposing a ladies' agreement. She wanted a favor from me in exchange for her doing a 5K of my choice.

(The favor involves a good surprise for a friend, so I'm being purposefully vague.)

Chelsea and her hubby own and love pets, so naturally I'm going to call her in for the Woofin' It 5K. The backup plan, if that doesn't work, would be the Boone County Museum 5K History Run/Walk.

Just give me a few weeks to let the bad memories fade, folks, and I'll be sending you links to local races like it's going out of style.

Race report: Dam to Dam Half Marathon

All you need to know about my Dam to Dam experience is that I'm not truly angry about the fact that my official results have yet to materialize.

(I think this is operator error, because my sweat-soaked shirt came off in the last half-mile, and with it went my race-chip-bearing bib. I've got an email query out.)

If it had been a quarter-marathon, I'd be singing a different tune — through mile seven, I'd channeled my negative emotions into strong running — but around mile eight, I melted down physically and mentally.

Because I finished slightly before Cory, I know that I ran faster than 2:08:10, which means I did manage to notch my second-best half marathon time ever, in possibly the most humid conditions I've ever raced in and potentially the warmest weather on record for Dam to Dam.

A few moments of levity I still managed to appreciate:

* A shirtless male runner hanging his bib from his nipple rings. If only I'd had a camera or a smartphone.

* A Christmas tree-costumed person at mile two. No reason for the costume was apparent.

* A Disney singalong around mile nine, begun by a couple of bros who were mangling the lyrics to "I Just Can't Wait To Be King." I couldn't let that continue, so I filled in most of the words for them.

In their defense, they stepped up when it came to "I've been working on my ROAR!"

* A kid offering beer to runners around mile 10. Better yet, I saw a man actually take the can.

* "Never trust a fart" posters. If there's bathroom humor on a sign, I'm almost guaranteed to smile, or at least grimace, at it.

* A T-shirt (or were there several?) that said: "Run? I thought you said RUM."

The only circumstance under which I'd consider doing a Memorial Day half marathon in the Midwest again would be if a newer/less trained runner sought support — but I'd consider the Dam to Dam 5K, only because of the afterparty.

Hands down, it had the best refreshments after a race in my entire running career. I got a grocery bakery cookie as I left the finish line area; found ice cream; finished that en route to Fighting Burrito nachos; and moved right over to Smokehouse Catering's sandwiches.

Not the way I'd hoped to close the book on spring running, but it's confirmation that I'm right to call it quits on spring half marathons and take a mental breather.

Looking ahead to race day

It's Dam to Dam Eve! I've planned my meals, checked the weather, washed all my running gear so I can pick the "luckiest" items, not the cleanest, and drafted a set of goals.

Picture this list as an inverted old-fashioned food pyramid, with the first items being the base (things I can and must do) and the final ones being the top (not critical for survival).

1. Be happy for other runners. 

Cory is running with me, of course, and will likely beat me despite training less; our friend Chris, a natural athlete and known speed demon, will be there, too; and another friend, Anne — a wife, mother and full-time employee — is doing her first half marathon ever.

No matter my race outcome, these folks deserve wholehearted congrats when I see them afterwards.

2. Don't melt down, physically and mentally.

The weather doesn't look fantastic, but it doesn't look terrible, and the route is supposed to be fairly forgiving.

Even if it's not my day, I should be able to keep plodding away — and I'm going to have to, because 13.1 miles is too long to do the start-swear-stop routine when I have other places to be later in the day.

Plus, it's my last run for a month. If that doesn't get me to the end faster, I'm not sure what else will.

3. Record my second-best half marathon time.

There's a HUGE gap between my current and past PRs — almost eight minutes, in fact. Though I may not feel like I'm at the top of my running game right now, I'm certainly in shape enough to beat 2:08:32, set on a hillier course in D.C.-area humidity.

4. Finish in 2:05:00.

That's a 9:32 pace. Seems reasonable in this situation, given that I did train. I'm running by feel, so whether I achieve this might depend on what kind of pace groups are nearby.

5. Finish in 1:59:59 or less.

Can I keep a 9:09 average? We'll find out Saturday.

Exiling "should" from my running vocabulary

Before my recent face-to-face sympathy session with the repair guy, I had another virtual sympathy session, this time with a post from Susan Lacke.

In "There Is No 'Should' In Running," Susan recounts a conversation she had with a friend who'd just completed a half marathon.

This friend, like other runners Susan's talked to, said with some resignation that she guessed she'd have to do a marathon next. To this view, Susan responds: "You don’t have to do anything. Do you want to run a marathon?"

The post goes on to defend all distances as being perfectly acceptable to qualify you as a "real runner." But that part wasn't what spoke to me — it was the line excerpted above.

As you may or may not remember, I decided that this year's goal would be to at least consider running a marathon, and I've explained it as "if I'm going to do it, I should think about doing it now, with a child-free life and a 40-hour workweek."

But while struggling mostly mentally, sometimes physically, this spring, I've thought about how the hurdles are twice as large from a half marathon to a full ... and it's made me 99.5 percent sure I won't be trying a marathon this year, or, honestly, any year.

After reading Susan's column, though, that conclusion seemed less gloomy. The answer to "do you want to run a marathon?" is no.

And man, there is a huge difference between, say, going to a movie you don't actually want to see all that badly, and running a distance twice what you've ever done when you don't want to.

I didn't even fall short on my goal of "think about doing a marathon," because I did think about it. Having the most time and fitness that I'm likely to have just doesn't translate to having the desire.

How runners do Iowa Nice

Yesterday I rode my bike to fetch my car from the mechanic's. It was a minor victory that turned into a major victory.

There were actually two minor — and I mean minor — wins:

1.) I decided to leave in the morning, when there were scattered light showers, instead of waiting for 1:15 p.m., when Weather.com told me the showers would end. It turns out that I am still not made of sugar, because I did not melt.

2.) Rather than tack on extra miles to avoid a hill, I took the more direct route and made it all the way to the top without stopping. Not without swearing, but without stopping.

Because my ride was cool and slightly rainy, I was rocking my fluorescent Des Moines Half Marathon zip-up jacket that morning.

When I returned home and parked, my neon top caught the eye of a repair guy who'd parked near me: "Hey, I have that same shirt! Did you run it, too?" he called to me.

And so, in what seems to be very typical Iowa fashion, we embarked on a five-minute conversation about local half marathons and our successes/failures in training for them.

I told him I'd run it last year but was on the fence about doing it this fall; that depended somewhat on how Dam to Dam went.

"Oh, I'm doing Dam to Dam too! The funny thing is, me and my wife, we're really just not looking forward to it. Not sure why. Maybe that horrible winter just got us down."

There's something so magical about when an outsider expresses the exact negative, possibly unpopular view you've been nursing for a few weeks.

I told him I could empathize, 100 percent, with him. He was relieved to hear he wasn't just being a big baby — another emotion I shared.

It was one of the most cheerful whine-fests I've had in a long time, and certainly a rare occasion on which I appreciated a strange man commenting on my clothes.

I may hate how the past few springs here have turned out, but I sure do love Iowa and Iowa Nice.

Votes for and against tapering

Partly by accident and partly by design, taper time has come in my Dam to Dam training.

And I think the only living creature around here who is sad about it is the local FedEx guy.

My cats aren't fans of anything that keeps me out of the apartment (except maybe my job, because they're fed when I leave for it, when I return from it, and by virtue of that job). Lighter running schedule = more time with them.

Lately, I find myself agreeing with the cats' stance: Apartment time, or commuting by bike, just sounds better than running.

It's not like past half-marathon-training burnouts, where the misery of each run made me want to give up the hobby entirely — most of my efforts have been OK; the anticipation of a long and/or challenging run, however, is consistently terrifying.

My Italian adventure provided a good break from running, and at first I was glad to dive back in, but I think it was only a temporary reprieve.

I'm not sure whether to blame the lack of extended time off (two weeks at a time isn't all that long), the mental fatigue from pushing through the polar vortex that just wouldn't leave, or the timing of Dam to Dam.

As for the local FedEx guy? It seems that my midweek runs have lined up with his midweek deliveries to my apartment building, which has an open-to-the-public lobby but a locked door that leads to actual apartments.

I've returned, sweaty and out of breath, from runs a few times recently just as he's shown up to make deliveries.

I don't know what he does with the packages when I'm not there to let him in, but each time he's thanked me profusely ... and sworn that he's not deliberately showing up on days that I run.

That's good, Mr. FedEx, because soon enough, I'll be doing a LOT less of that.

Race report: Woofin' It 5K 2014

"Are you up for a challenge?"

That was how Furry Friends' director greeted me at Saturday's Woofin' It 5K.

Last year's "borrowed" dog, Sam, had been bursting with energy, but Cory and I had survived. (Taking turns holding the leash helped.) So I laughed and said sure, bring it on.

Enter Rowan, a 6-year-old American Staffordshire terrier mix. As I took the leash of this ball of muscles, the shelter folks warned: "Just so you know, he's a bit of a puller ... "

And we were off! By the time we met up with Cory, who was pinning his bib on and stashing his belongings in the car, I'd already broken a sweat. This didn't bode well for my "costume."

It turns out that cheap eyeliner is NOT waterproof. Should've taken a picture before the race, I guess. Not pictured: Cory's awesome socks, with a cat saying "woof" and a dog saying "meow."

Because we showed up a bit late, we hadn't quite made it to the start line when the race began, but with Rowan towing me, we caught up, no problem.

After we crested the first hill, my legs already complaining about the previous day's 21 bike miles/3.1 run-walk miles, I happened to glance down at my shoe. The keyholder was gone.

CRAP. I handed Rowan off to Cory and fled down that hill, sweat pouring from every pore (oh hi humidity!), to find it at the very start of the race.

How many college grads does it take to secure car keys on a pair of shoes while a feisty dog itches to race? More than two, evidently.

The good news for me, I guess, was that doubling back helped tire Rowan out a bit. Don't get me wrong, that dog was ready to run, but after the first mile or so, I was able to maintain some semblance of form and not spend every other breath shouting fruitlessly "heel! heel!"

Still, Rowan was determined to save face in front of other dogs. He might slow to a trot when it was just Cory and I, but let another human-dog duo pass us, and he'd leap to action.

Or when he needed a break, 8 times out of 10, he would act like he was marking yet another plant. (Though I didn't look closely, I had a hunch that nothing was coming out from under that raised leg.)

On the other hand, he seemed determined to make Cory and I look like bad pet parents. The other race participants chuckled indulgently at our swerving, abrupt stopping/starting, and bathroom breaks; the couple sitting on their porch seemed less amused by Rowan's liquid present on their lawn.

All three of us were glad to see the finish line, I think, but it was a happy tired.

There sure wasn't a dull moment with Rowan at the helm ... though if Furry Friends has an even more energetic dog waiting for me next year, I might ask about hooking him/her up to my bike instead!

For the record: Even with our doubling back, I finished this 5K faster (42:11) than the Girls on the Run one the night before (somewhere around 46 minutes).

Upcoming race: Dam to Dam half marathon

As I mentioned in earlier posts about second-quarter and overall 2014 goals, I've signed up for this year's Dam to Dam race.

I'd been interested in doing it in the past, but its transition this year from a 20K to a half marathon sealed the deal. (OK, and so did the reports of how flat the route is.)

The race is May 31, which also lined up quite well with my two-week hiatus in early April as I prepared for, went on and recovered from vacation.

If the past two years are any indication, the heat and humidity might hold off a few more weeks; if not, the early start time (7 a.m.) could be my savior.

So of course, my goal is to break 2:00:00. I probably should set alternative goals, especially if the weather isn't looking auspicious for me, but I'll do that later.

Right now, hitting or breaking 2:00:00 looks feasible. It's not a slam-dunk, but I'm cautiously optimistic that the polar vortex and my time off won't be insurmountable obstacles.

I'll have to average a 9:09-per-mile pace to do it. Not a guarantee, yet also barely faster than what I averaged at the Des Moines Half (9:11). So how close am I?

During my first long run, an eight-miler, I was only concerned about getting the miles in without suffering. I ended up actually enjoying the whole run, except the buggy parts, so I achieved my only real goal.

I treated my second long run, a nine-miler, as a more important test, which I passed, with a 9:12 pace.

The splits are all over the board, from an 8:30 (flat path, calm weather) to 9:54 (half-mile-long hill into nearly 20 mph winds), but the majority are as fast or faster than goal pace. 

Overall, the run took 1:22:55, leaving 37:04 for the remaining 4.1 miles. Though that's not outside the realm of possibility, I'd like more of a margin -- and, fortunately, I have faith that I can get it.

Race-day adrenaline will likely speed me up and keep me going earlier in the race. It's also safe to say the Dam to Dam route will be flatter and spend less time going west, which seems to be where Iowa winds come from.

So keep your fingers crossed for pleasant weather, and I'll handle the rest. 

Race report: Grand Blue Mile

When I take time off from running, especially during the winter, I have concurrent and conflicting emotions about running.

One part of me never wants to lace up the shoes and feel the burn again. The other part of me becomes wildly optimistic, often just at the thought of mild weather and living plants, and wants to sign up for anything and everything.

My Grand Blue Mile registration was born of that latter urge, and I spent the time between getting off of work and toeing the starting line regretting it with every alternate breath. 

In between, I reminded myself that as miserable as I was during the Friendly Sons 5K, this had to be better — it was only one-third the distance.

These faces do not accurately reflect our pre-race sentiments, though we did agree that it was a perfect day to run.

Cory and his friend Drew weren't particularly sanguine, nor was Stephanie from book club, who ran with me in the competitive women's division. Only veteran athlete Steve, whom we'd only just met a few days ago at the Cumming Tap, seemed to be glad to be here.

My plan was to stay in back to give myself more time to warm up before actually crossing the line; instead, the race organizers corralled the 15 or so of us — seriously! — to the very front, and it was only a few steps before I was sprinting like my life depended on it.

Here's where my biggest victory of the day occurred. In the first quarter-mile, I got passed constantly, despite pushing myself as hard as the speedsters were. The pack in front of me grew so crowded that I started wondering whether I'd be the last to finish.

Suddenly I understood why people worry about that — there were a lot of spectators, and they'd be sticking around to watch the races right after mine. Everyone would see me come in last. Was anyone even behind me? Should I even bother suffering for another three-fourths of a mile?

But no. I didn't pay the registration fee and tell people that I was running it just to give up so early. There was no injury or true pain holding me back. I kept plugging away ... and even started passing a few people, some of whom sounded/looked far more miserable than me.

My second-biggest victory of the day: It was such a short race that I didn't bother wearing contacts or glasses, meaning the finish line was just one giant blue blob. I couldn't even let up at the end if I had wanted to, because I wasn't entirely sure where the end was. (See my game face here.)

But I could read the numbers as I crossed — 6:58.

The mats signal the end. I'm not *quite* there.

I was shocked to see that number, even more shocked to see the printout with "6:11" and then unsurprised to see this morning that I was knocked down to "7:11.88." 

I shrugged it off most of the day, because they're ALL personal records by at least 21 seconds, but I'll admit to much relief when at 5:20 p.m., Cory emailed me to say the database had changed. Official time: 6:57.64, ninth in my division.

For such a short race, I've blathered on a long time, so I'll just end it with this: I'm proud of the results, especially given what little training went into it, and I am even more happy and grateful that I had a cheering section. Thanks, Steph, Regina and Emily, for coming out, watching and photographing!

I race tonight; here are my goals

One week ago today, I returned to Des Moines from my overseas adventure and realized that, oh crap, I was running a mile race in seven days and a half marathon in seven weeks.

And it was with some trepidation that I set out on my first run since the March 30 5K last Wednesday — how much fitness had I lost, and how much of a waste of registration would today's Grand Blue Mile be?

We can look at the result of that run and the subsequent mile test (7:41) in two ways: Either I didn't lose as much fitness as I thought, hooray!; or I didn't have any real fitness to lose, boo.

I've clocked that pace during successful 5Ks, and I finished a test mile in 7:33 before rolling out to Italy, though, so I think it's fair and accurate to interpret 7:41 as not having lost much fitness.

So tonight, I know I can go sub-8:00; I expect to do around 7:45, give or take a few seconds; and I hope I can do around 7:30.

If I break 7:30 this year without training specifically at all, well, first round of beer at the post-race gathering is on me.

And maybe then this fall at the Brew Mile or next spring at the Grand Blue Mile, after making time for race-specific training, I can shatter the automatic personal record I set tonight.