Flying Pig Marathon Weekend 2013

First, to anyone thinking about running in the Flying Pig in 2014, I say "do it!!" 

• The courses are challenging but diverse and enjoyable with plenty of gorgeous views along the way.  
• The organization is excellent from the layout of the expo, to the entertainment and facilities during the race itself, to the post-race festivities and swag.
• Everyone loves our infamous piggy medals (my mom really wants one now).
• There are plenty of things to do in Cincinnati on both ends of the weekend, and tons of good eats.

Now, my adventure in Flying Pig-land 2013, or "Return of the flying piggly wigglies!"

Cincinnati is extremely proud of The Flying Pig.  Even the storefronts in the mall get in on the pig-citement.

This weekend was the Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon weekend and my mom came into town to cheer me through one of my more stupid ideas.

Back story: I ran the half marathon at the Flying Pig last year and around the half way point I started promising myself I would never ever run this race again.  Ever.  Ever.  That was in May 2012.  The race directors sneakily waited five months before inviting me to sign up for this year's race.  By October my legs no longer remembered the burning that takes place during a 2.5 mile stretch that is all uphill and  I signed up not only for the half marathon I had previously promised myself I would never have to attempt again, but also for the 5K and the 10K the day prior.  Why? Because the race directors promised a special prize (spoiler: it was a five dollar gift card to Skyline Chili) and the prestige of being crazy enough to do such a thing.

Friday afternoon my mom and I drove downtown to pick up my three race packets at the Expo.  

Sweaty Bands haul 2013,
oh yeah!

Despite the fact that the 3-Way (as this crazy endeavor of three races in less than two days was named) was well advertised, the people passing out packets were still confused that they had to hand me everything in triplicate.  (Maybe it's the fact I look sixteen.  Maybe they could tell I had run a total of ten times since February.  I know it's not that I don't look like a crazy lunatic.)

The expo was not all terror at the anticipation of what was to come the next morning: there was a stall selling Sweaty Bands!  In addition to promising I would never run this race again, I had also promised myself I would buy more Sweaty Bands since the three I bought last year had become my favorite hair accessories.  I bought so many they gave me a free pig headband.

Mom signs the poster for Boston

The support for Boston was everywhere and could continue to be seen all weekend: people waved signs reading "Run if you can, walk if you must, but finish for Boston," runners pinned tiny signs on their backs reading "Our hearts are with Boston."  In fact, this year was the first year the Flying Pig has ever sold out, owed largely to the fact that we are one of the first major marathons since the Boston attack and Americans are nothing if not tough stubborn cowboys determined to do exactly the opposite of what someone tells us to do.  Terrorists want us to be too afraid to run a race?  We may not have wanted to run before but dammit if we aren't going to run now!  Apparently the Flying Pig directors had to re-open online registration after the attacks in Boston because so many people were contacting them about signing up to run.  Like they say: Don't mess with someone who runs 26.2 (or 13.1 or 6.2) miles just for fun.

Saturday morning I woke up at 2:30am, too excited and nervous to fall back asleep.  The plan of attack was simple.  I was going to run the 10K at a nice clip, but not an exhaustive all-out race pace, then cool down with the 5K nice and slowly.  Finally I would run-walk the half-marathon.

I was most excited for this first race.  10Ks are my favorite distance to race for three reasons:

1. They're still short enough that I don't feel like dying when I cross the finish line, but they're long enough that I have time to enjoy the run before it ends.  
2. I feel faster.  I'm not a fast runner.  If I'm running more than a mile, I run about the same pace for every distance.  This means that the further I run, the more impressive my time looks.  Yay 10Ks!
3. People who run a 10K are more likely to know race etiquette and therefore less likely to do something that makes you want to kick them like suddenly stop in the middle of the road and bend over to tie their shoe.  (Saw that [again] in the 5K this weekend: poor guy running right behind her almost boned her.  That would've taught her to pull to the side first!)

The Flying Pig 10K was no different.  All of the Flying Pig events are incredibly well organized and supported from the abundance of water stations and port-a-potties, to accurate corral spacing and logical placement of photographers, to the insane number of people willing to get up at early on a weekend to cheer on the runners with witty signs and clever costumes.  This year I can add that security is top notch.  Before the 5K I rounded a corner to find a policeman completely decked out in SWAT gear, holding an assault weapon approximately as long as I am tall, and he was taking his job 150% seriously.

And we're off!  Please note my multiple bibs instead of my poochy belly.  Thanks.

Crossing over the first bridge into Kentucky (there are three legit bridges on the 10K and half-marathon courses) I could see the rising sun shining down onto the Ohio River and casting it's rays onto the bridge we would cross coming back into Ohio.  It was the first reminder that this is supposed to be FUN.  For the majority of runners, the most competition you're going to get is against yourself.  You enter a race with thousands of other people, you know from the beginning you're not going to win.  That's not the point.  The point is to enjoy being surrounded by like-minded people, to prove to yourself that you can do something you thought you weren't capable of, to better yourself by getting a PR or learning something enlightening on a long quiet journey with only your thoughts for company.

Trying to drain the lactic acid between races

While the 10K was difficult, it was enjoyable and I would definitely run it again in the future.  Although I finished just under my fairly lofty goal of one hour (59:50), I didn't have time to celebrate.  I barely had time to rest my legs, eat a banana, and stretch a little before we had to head back to the starting line for the 5K.

Despite my general disdain for 5Ks (I don't really begin enjoying a run until somewhere between the 4th and 6th miles), I found the Flying Pig 5K to be cheery and uplifting.  Not a quarter mile from the starting line I found myself approaching an older woman with a knee brace, briskly walking.  I came up along side her and with a smile I simply said, "You are inspiring."  I meant it.  I find excuses all the time why I can't or shouldn't run that day.  The fact that she was out there anyway, with the socially acceptable excuses of age and injury on her side, told me to get my butt in gear.  She startled, thanked me, and shifted into a slow shuffle-y run.  A second later she called up ahead to me, "At 73 I should hope so!"  Seventy three.  Good God.  If I can have that discipline and spirit at 73, I won't mind still being around.

Interestingly, as we approached the last corner before the final stretch I passed a pair of adorable little girls who looked no older than seven or eight.  "You two are fantastic!" I told them as I caught up (that's right, they were ahead of me) "Never stop running!"  The girls giggled and one of them told me their teacher had assigned it as homework: "She made us run for 28 minutes without stopping!!"  I finished in 31:39 and those little girls weren't far behind, so their homework definitely paid off!

Finally Sunday morning came around.  As much as I wanted a PR, I knew it was impossible.  (My current PR is from flat, sea-level Disney World after a year of careful and dedicated training.)  I only hoped I could finish in less than 3 hours.

Making my way to the corral I felt I no longer deserved, the race organizers had a moment of silence for the Boston runners.  Bagpipes played Amazing Grace and I realized I'd never related to the attacks as a runner.  When I first heard about them I had related as another human being and as a medical professional, but standing in a sea of thousands of runners and knowing there were thousands more people lining the course to cheer for us, made it different.  Thinking of all the dollars and all the hours all these people chose to spend running, cross training, traveling to Cincinnati, making signs, designing costumes.  Time they could have spent watching TV or shopping or -- my personal favorite -- sleeping. Time and money they traded in for this: the opportunity to glimpse what the human body and mind are capable of.

At dawn we RUN!!!!

They fired the guns and sent us off to "Sweet Caroline."  I was far enough back in the corrals that we couldn't start running right away so instead we sang along and pumped our fists to the music.  I thought it was a nice moment, even if maybe it was predictable.

We crossed over that same bridge as the day before but instead of admiring the sunrise, I was surprised to find a half dozen police officers lining my side of the bridge in pairs.  Luckily it didn't occur until much later, after I was off the bridge, that the bridge would have been the ideal place to attack us.  Scary thoughts.  At the time I just thanked them as I ran by and mentally prepared myself for the next twelve miles:

• I would run until running was no longer fun.  
• I would not force myself to walk until I had to (I hate walking, even though it is so often necessary).  
• "It does not matter how slow you go, as long as you are still moving forward."

As we ran back into Ohio a few miles later, I came up behind a couple girls with matching t-shirts that read "You've got what it takes, but it will take everything you got."  I added it to my mantras and realized we were almost four miles in and I was still running.

Mom was waiting at the 4.5 mile "party zone" and I was happy to be able to stop for a quick -- and on my part, stinky -- hug before continuing.

Mile five-ish

Mile 5-6 I alternated my focus between trying to pop a blister that had formed on a toe on my left foot, giggling at signs that were only funny because my brain was deprived of oxygen, and celebrating that I didn't feel like walking yet.

At mile 6 I steeled myself for the 2.5 mile uphill battle through Eden Park and halfway through the park I realized that this race was not as bad as I remembered.  Something I later credited to the weather.

We split from the even crazier people running the full marathon and crossed mile marker 9, where I had given up and began walking the year before.  I paused to stretch a screaming hamstring and text my mom about my progress.

Snagging a banana from a lovely volunteer, I followed the massive herd of runners to the much anticipated downhill portion of the course.  Despite having to do a silly shuffle-y run between miles 10-12.5 as part of a truce I struck with my IT bands, I never had to walk!  I grabbed a small cup of beer a quarter mile from the finish to distract myself from the fact that I was so close and yet still had SO FAR to go.  

And then it was over.
In 2:25:32!  Over half an hour faster than I'd dared to hope, and only 3 minutes and 28 seconds slower than last year (when I hadn't just run two races the day before!)  
The Power of the Pig.

Now I am left with 9 blisters on my feet, burning knees, aching hamstrings to decide what is next.  These are the races "in the running"

Rock 'n' Roll half marathon in Dublin, Ireland 8/5/13

Baxter's Loch Ness Marathon or 10K in Loch Ness, Scotland 9/29/13

Walt Disney World Marathon in Orlando, Florida, USA 1/12/14  (Oh how I need to do the Dopey race at some point...)

and of course the full marathon at the piggy races next year ;)