The Rutherfords' International PBR

Today Chris ran his first race, a 5K in Windsor called Run Under the Sun. Boy was it ever, though it really should have been called Run Back and Forth Several Times Under the Sun and in and out of the Wind Along the Noisy Highway. The 5K runners did two "loops" consisting of running out three-quarters of a mile and "looping" around a cone guarded by a man and a motorcycle while the 10K runners had four "loops." I ran the 10K and as far as I know, I counted my "loops" correctly.



The proceeds from the race went to support organ donor awareness in Canada. Our awesome friend Karen, who loves all things cool (like running, travel, wine and charitable events) also ran. Her father was the recipient of a heart some twenty years ago and is still doing great! Though I didn't meet him, it was an honor to meet others who were either organ recipients or families who had donated their loved ones' organs.


Chris ran an impressive 28:32. He's been hitting the triathlon training pretty hard, but has only been out running a half a dozen times. He has perfect running form too, which, of course, I've been working on for the majority of my life and it still causes me angst. I assume that this is probably because he does what feels good rather than scouring decades of running magazines debating the elements of proper running form.


I ran a PR (personal record) of 48:52 (formally 51:40) and even placed third in my age group. Today I decided that my name spoken over the loud speaker has quite a nice ring to it. I received one of those white ribbons you get on Field Day in elementary school. Finally I got my white ribbon! I remember being annoyed in Kindergarten when I earned a blue ribbon but thought the white one was prettier.

Karen congratulated us both on our PBs (personal bests, as Canadians like to say) but we insisted that we both had run a PR. We decided to split the difference and call it a PBR, but since by ribbon was white, it didn't seem quite right to crack open a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon to celebrate...so we didn't.

Things I Always do Before a Race/Training Run That I Didn't Do Before the St. Louis Marathon

Now that I'm two days removed from the St. Louis Marathon, I've had some time to think about what exactly went wrong. I decided to make a list of the things I always do before a long training run or race and realized that I had done none of these things before the St. Louis Marathon! Things that I just thought I did because that's just what I do, unbeknownst to me, was really helping my performance:

1. Eat pizza, usually Italian sausage, feta and spinach (lots of sodium and potassium here, stuff that runners need)

2. Have a cup of coffee in the morning (I'm not completely clear on how this helps me, but I do know that it wakes me up, is part of my morning routine anyway, and since caffeine is a diuretic, it takes water out of my system that, now, I know I drink in excess.)

3. Have an electrolyte drink in the morning (more sodium, potassium, other vitamins)

4. Arrive early for my run/race (The race started at seven, for reasons out of my control, I arrived at 6:30.)

5. Start out conservatively (When I realized that our pacer was running sub-eight minute miles instead of the 8:24 I needed, I should have dropped back.)

6. Bring back my pace if I can't relax (see above)

7. Refrain from taking ibuprofen in the morning (I later read that taking ibuprofen before running can impair a runner's ability to conserve salt)

8. Bring a salty snack (Angela and I are always noshing on pretzels, almonds, and salt & pepper peanuts from Trader Joe's.)

Now that I am enlightened, I need to plan my next race!

The Easiest Marathon I've Ever Run

The St. Louis Marathon was today, the day I've been waiting for. It's was beautiful out. A welcomed sixty-five degrees was quite a change from the zero to twenty degree weather Angela (my fearless training partner) and I had been training in. It was clear, bright and sunny!

We decided to run with the 3:40 pace group, to make it easy on ourselves. We had put in our miles, done the work and were more than ready to go. I gotten the best night's sleep I'd ever had before a race, hydrated the entire day prior, eaten healthy foods and stayed off my feet. Everything was perfect...until we realized that the pacer was one minute ahead of pace at mile two.

I regret not pulling back a bit, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think I ended up running my fasted 10K actually (sub 50 minutes)! Good for a 10K race, not so much for a marathon.

By the seven mile mark I was nauseous. Really nauseous. Nauseous enough to jump off the course and alarm the spectators. Even so, I decided to press on. I was thirsty as hell, yet I noticed my fingers swelling, and not just a little bit. I ate some of my Shot Bloks and drank some Gatorade, hoping to up my sodium levels. I was already having flashbacks from Chicago. Swollen fingers, stomach cramps, the whole bit. UGH. Not again!! I said a little prayer that at least Angela was on her way to a Boston Qualifying time, knowing that I wasn't.

I saw Chris at mile nine, told him to meet me at the half way point, and downed more Shot Bloks. I was pissed. I have gotten up before six each Saturday since January to run 14-22 miles out at Stony Creek, a 45 minute drive from my house, and even more in the snow. I had turned down Friday night plans to go to bed early in preparation. I had wasted my Saturday afternoons napping so that I could at least enjoy the Sunday of my weekend. I'd done tempos runs, speed work, cross training, yoga, weights and now I was about to drop out of a race because of swollen fingers and stomach cramps?!

Yup. That's what happened. I don't know if it was the heat, the ibuprofen I'd taken in the morning, too much water and not enough salt, the ridiculous hills or a combination of all of that, but I couldn't run any more. Every time I got into my groove, I swore I would puke. The thought of coughing up Shot Bloks and GU was all too much. And, I'd completely lost my focus.

I hung out with Chris and our friend Brian, who came to both cheer me on and help Chris drink his famous bloody marys. I changed out of my shirt, shorts and shoes, ate something and walked over to mile 21 to wait for Angela. Chris asked me if I secretly hoped that Angela dropped out too. I was appalled. She worked so hard too, and I honestly hoped that she was having a great race. The events that followed couldn't have worked out more perfectly.

Two of my friends, Kristina and Laura, from my college days, came down to cheer me on. I had seen Kristina briefly the day before, but I'd missed Laura. It was fun to be able to catch up with them for a bit on the course, something I wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. I miss my friends tremendously, and I only get to see them a few times a year, if that. We all waited. The 3:40 pacer went by with three people (there were 20+ when we started). The 3:45 pacer blew by with no runners. The 3:50 pace team passed us. We were worried. Then we saw Angela. All five of use were screaming her name to cheer her on. She stared blankly ahead, not acknowledging us at all. Finally, after about 3o seconds of yelling and screaming at her, she snapped out of her spell and stopped.

She asked me to run the last five with her. I didn't hesitate. In fact, I was thrilled to be invited and glad for the opportunity to support my friend, even though my race was over. Chris and Brian were my pit stop team, helping me out of my post race shoes and back into my running shoes, pinning my number back on my shirt and sending me on my way. I was feeling a lot better by then, and filled the next 5.2 miles with mindless chatter and anything encouraging I could think to say to pass the time. It's amazing how the miles blow by when you're feeling good, something I didn't get to experience at the beginning of the race.

We finished together in 3:59:54. The announcer blasted my name over the loud speaker. Ha. This is the easiest marathon I'd ever run, I thought. With seventeen miles and an hour break, I still broke four hours. Angela told me I'd better get a medal anyway. We got our medals, our snacks, our beer and sat on the lawn to stretch and talk about what a crap race this was.

Even though this wasn't a great run for me, it ended up being a great day in other ways. I am thankful that I have an awesome husband to comes to all my races, cheers me on and shares in my triumphs and disappointments. I am lucky to have such amazing friends who support me, in person and from afar, even when what I do doesn't quite work out the way I want it to. I was happy to learn (albeit the hard way) more about what it is to be a marathoner, what I need to do differently and how I can grow from this experience. I also learned that helping Angela cross the finish line was just as good (if not better) than getting there myself.