Heather wasn’t wrong when she said I had a couple of issues on our first trail race. Started off ok, feeling good but not long into the run I started to feel off. A quick inventory of things out of the norm led initially to me blaming the sun, after all it’s not like I have had much chance to run in the sun this year. Sweat was pouring out of me and I couldn’t seem to take on any fluids, maybe sunstroke? But then came the burp and then it was a palm full of puke. Incidentally projectile vomit is also a running first for me, before the race was done it was also a running second and by the third time it was pretty passé really. To add to the fun my bowls started to growling in some very very worrying ways thankfully these issues didn’t fully manifest themselves until we were driving back from the race, but that is another story and not one I think even I want to share!! Oddly despite all of this I loved the race, and I actually felt good about being able to mentally tough it out.
Next day got off to a rocky start but eventually got my backside outside to run Heather to the start of her 10km race. After dropping her off at the start I hightailed it to the finish line. A couple of issues, I somehow had to cover 11km to get to the finish line of a 10km race, not a big problem I had a bit of a head start, what I didn’t have was a watch, in my infinite wisdom I decided to use parking meters to time my run. Turns out that there are a lot less parking meters than I expected on my route, I started to panic that I was going to miss the gang cross the finish line. I even contemplated using my emergency TTC token, a quick glance up the street revealed no streetcars in the immediate future. I only had one option turn on the taps and haul ass, as I approached the finish line and saw the race clock I realized that parking meters were not the best pacing aids I had covered the distance way ahead of my normal pace. Then came the stressful bit (I maintain the view that the role of cheerleader is way more stressful than actually running the race) trying to spot the guys crossing the finish line and snapping a few shots of them. I failed miserably there were literally thousands of people crossing the finish line and I wasn’t able to spot any of them. I did eventually find everyone after they got their medals. They looked great and had obviously had a really good run, and there was certainly a twinge of jealousy when I saw them all wearing their medals. I guess I don’t make a good wallflower.