” I realize that my participation in this event entails the risk of injury or even death.”

Perhaps, just perhaps, I should have paid closer attention to the Dances with Dirt waiver.

“I realize that the course for the (DWD) presents a number of potential dangers to me and I hereby assume the risk arising from all of them. I realize that I will be running on a variety of surfaces, some of them far less than perfect, including but not limited to roads, unimproved trails, mud, swamps, cliffs, lumpy fields covered with waist high grass and river crossings. The roads are open to motor vehicle traffic that has the right of way. I know that broken bones, reactions to poison ivy, insect bites and bruising are common occurrences in this extreme event and that I will be far into the wilderness away from medical support. I realize that the danger of injury and even death exists as well and I hereby assume all the risks that may be present on the (DWD) course.”

Let’s move on to the race info that was emailed out to participants the week before the race:

• DWD is an adventurous trail run with difficult and stupid sections. Crying is acceptable.
• IF YOU’VE RUN FOR 3 MINUTES WITHOUT SEEING A RIBBON OR FLAG, YOUR DECISION TO CONTINUE FORWARD IS MORONIC.
• 10K Virgin voyage 2011 (first year)

What in the HELL did I get myself into? Read on.

It all started Friday night when Rochelle, Annie, Tracey, Matt, Marty and I drove up to meet Krista and Evan at Devil’s Head Resort in Merrimac. Rochelle, Annie and Tracey headed to the resort to check in and the rest of us set up camp.

Me and Krista, representing Dailymile while beering and camping

We headed into Baraboo for some good ol’ fashioned spaghetti and meatballs. The Mama Mia’s staff were so sweet and stayed open late just for us!

Then it was back to camp for more beer and this awesome campfire:

Why yes, that IS two citronella candles chillin’ on a smokey joe. Don’t judge. You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.

I woke up early enough to see my friends off to their races. Annie, Rochelle, Tracey, Krista and Marty all did the marathon. Evan and Matt did the half marathon… then there was me. The lone 10k-er.

I wasn’t really worried or all that nervous before the race. This was just a fun run on the trails while my friends ran a marathon. I’d finish and head back to camp for beer.

I headed to the start line just before 8 a.m. Then I heard the announcer say, “Oh hey 10k-ers. By the way, you’re going to wish you signed up for the half marathon. This is the most difficult 10k I’ve ever seen.”

Um. No.

What?

Then the race started. So I ran. Then we got to the ski hill. You know, the one we had to RUN UP.

I know. Who in the hell runs up a ski hill?

The race bottle-necked at the base of the hill, which was fine with me. “I’m good with this pace. Carry on,” I proclaimed to much laughter.

After the initial incline, the pack began to thin out. I couldn’t help but wonder what I had gotten myself into. It was HOT.

It doesn’t look steep, but trust me, it’s not fun.

When I reached the top of the hill, I was pretty excited. I was only a little slower than I had planned and it was uphill. Winning! Just do a 5k up here then I get to head back down! Wheeee!

I picked up speed and ran through the woods. I passed two or three people. Hells yeah. I’m doing this. I’m rocking this.

Oh fuck.

Yep. I fell. Hard. Forward.

I cut up my legs, arms and even got a hole in my summer running tights. Oh, and I landed right on my left thumb. But more on that later.

I shook it off and kept going.

Then, I came to what can only be described as a steep steep hill (yes, double steep) with shoulder-high grass where race organizers  probably sent someone the day before to stomp a path down the hill. So there was this tiny itty bitty path on this double steep hill and the only path was slippery grass mixed with fresh mud. You see where this is going, right?

I basically fell down this hill. For more than half a mile. Every few steps I would slip and slide down further on my ass. It got pretty comical. Step step step step BOOM slide. Repeat. I counted seven falls down the hill. I grabbed anything and everything to maintain my balance, including thorny bushes. I even got my hair stuck in a small tree while the rest of my body tried to fall down the hill. I took baby steps, sideways down the hill to maintain balance. I went so slow. Then I reached the bottom. Yay! Water stop! Yay! Catching up with the other slow people.

Confession: I don’t know these ladies or their names. But we commiserated at 3.5 miles into the 10k. Notice the smiles? Those were gone in about 60 seconds.

Why? The colored flags denoting the race path started sneaking…. up. Yes, UP. UP ANOTHER DAMN SKI HILL. This one was so much worse than the first.

The heat and humidity were starting to hit me and my asthma… hard. Every 5-10 steps I had to stop to catch my breath and pray I didn’t die. I sent the ladies pictured above along with a nice man named Mark on ahead. I was overly dramatic and told them to “Save yourselves. Leave me be. I’m gonna puke. It’s not going to be pretty. I’ll catch up later.”

And now we come to the part of the day where I completely lost about 30 minutes of my life. Seriously. Somehow it took me 30  minutes to go half a mile up a hill. And I don’t really remember any of it. I was dizzy. I was hallucinating. I’m pretty sure it was heat exhaustion. I drank some of my water. Took a couple sport beans. I dreamed of laying down and passing out. I know that I never let myself sit down or lay down, but I really don’t know what happened. But then I got to (what I thought was) the top of the ski hill! WINNING! Here’s what the look down was like.

I entered a wooded area. Yay! Shade! Less than a quarter mile later, this is what I saw:

I was only half way up the damn ski hill. I started sobbing. I couldn’t believe what a tease the course was. I thought I was at the top of the hill. I wasn’t even close. Luckily, it wasn’t nearly as steep, but it was still UP.

I struggled to the top and then started to feel a bit better. I did some jogging as I headed back in and out of the wooded areas and down the “easy” ski hill. I didn’t push my speed because I really didn’t want to pass out. I knew I was going to be the last person to finish the 10k so there really wasn’t any type of time goal. Just finish. And, #dontdie.

Eventually, I heard some music. I heard cheering. I knew I was getting close to the finish line. I stumbled through the finish line and was given my medal. No one cheered. I don’t think anyone even knew I was running the race because I looked like a stumbling drunk.

How badass is this? EXTREME 10k indeed!

One of the volunteers gave me an ice cold bottle of water. That water was heaven. She asked how I was doing. I think she could tell something was off. I told her I didn’t know if I was ok. She offered to walk me to the med tent but I said I could do it. I didn’t know if I needed it though. So I kind of wandered like a crazy person at the finish, drinking gatorade, water, whatever I could get my hands on.

I saw Matt. He said he and Evan were worried about me because they thought I was going to finish an hour earlier. Yeah, me too. He offered to get me things. I just sort of mumbled and started throwing down my ipod, garmin, spibelt and kicked off my shoes. I walked straight to the make-shift shower near the finish line and stood under the cool stream of water for 5-10 minutes. That was the most amazing ghetto shower I’ve ever taken. It cooled me off enough I didn’t need to go to the med tent. I washed off all my cuts and scrapes and scrubbed off the mud. Then I stumbled to the food table and sloppily ate half a chocolate muffin. omg. chocolate. muffin.

I changed, grabbed my chair and the beer and chilled at the finish line with Evan and Matt to await our friends’ arrival. Mmmm beer.

No amount of training could have adequately prepared me for this race. Based on previous trail runs, I expected to finish in about 2:05 with an ultimate goal of 1:50. My official time: 2:41:26.

Injuries: countless bruises, cuts, scrapes, thorns, sunburn, a bunch of busted blood vessels and a sprained thumb.

SPLITS: 21:55, 22:03, 19:33, 48:31, 32:10, 17:15*

*NOTE: these are incorrect, as when I practically crawled up the ski hill (2nd) my garmin kept jacking up with the satellites, so it said I did 5.85 mi when it was really 6.2. I’m sure the trees didn’t help, either.

Oh! Look at me! I'm soooo cute! I got new under armour gear! Wheeeee!

Today, my trainer told me to do 30-40 minutes of easy cardio: walk, eliptical, biking. I got to choose. Of course, I chose biking!

I put on my brand new workout gear – soooooo cute! Even the band of the bottoms match the color of the top!

Cool gloves? Check

Cool sunglasses? Check

Red helmet? Checkity check

I head out to the garage, lube up my chain (get yer mind out of the gutter) and head out for a 6-8 mile easy ride.

As I’m nearing the 1 mile mark, I get frustrated. Why is it sooooo hard to pedal? I have it on an easy gear, the road is relatively flat. What the heck?

I attempt to cross the busy intersection of 76th and Lincoln and wonder if I’ve completely lost any semblance of fitness.

Then I look.

My back tire was flat as a pancake.

Sad panda.

So then I got to walk my bike back home.

At least I looked fucking cute doing that, even if I did look absolutely ridiculous walking my bike for a mile.

John: You know, you’re totally making me feel like a rockstar
Me: Why? (laughs)
John: Well, you lost 3.5 lbs this week, running has been going well, I’m doing something right.
Me: (laughing) Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I also went down a pants size.

I was asked out today while I was running at the gym. I’m dripping in sweat and this guy comes over and says “I see you girl” then fist bumps me. I’m like hey ok. Continue running. Then he comes back a few minutes later and asks me if I’m seeing anyone. I say no. He asks my name and puts his hand out to shake. I said “hey I’m Amy. Nice to meet you.” He says something like “I’ve never seen you around here before.” I told him I come all the time. Mind you, I’m STILL RUNNING at this point. I’m dripping in sweat, breathing heavy, etc. He asks for my number. I tell him no. He asks to give me his number and says his name is Donovan. I said, “Well maybe next time you see me we can talk more. I have to finish my run.”

So there’s the story of how Amy got hit on at the gym on Valentine’s Day and turned the guy down cuz she was too focused on her run.

As you may know, The Run into the New Year 5k was supposed to be “Amy’s triumphant return to running.” Earlier this week, I feared it would be “Amy’s not-so-triumphant return to running.” In the end, it became “Amy’s really effed up return to running.”

My wonderful sister Emily K. said she would run this 5k with me, even though I told her she was free to go at her own pace and just find me at the end. She said she wanted to do this with me and that it didn’t matter how long it took, she’d be there with me the whole time. Yeah, I know. *tear*

Em & Me, pre race

We started off near the back of the pack and, well, we stayed there (hello, slow running FTW). My goal was to do intervals, but listen to my foot and lungs to determine how those intervals would be. We ran the first quarter mile in less than 3 min, which was pretty fast for me, especially for the start of a race where I didn’t know how my body would handle it. We did some running, then some walking, then some running… passed the 1 mi marker at just over 14 min, which is a great time for me – normally my run/walk pace is in the 16-17 range. My lungs were burning, my foot was starting to act up but Em kept pushing me on and encouraging me along the way.

My sister, looking too beautiful to be running. WTF

We turned the corner after going around the race track and were headed down the hill toward the start/finish line… and got very confused. The race was a 10k and a 5k and they had the first loop of the course going past the start/finish point around mile 1.2. The fast 10k-ers were coming around at this point and all the course marshalls seemed more focused on directing them than helping us. We asked someone at the water table where we were supposed to go and they blew us off.

No, YOU look crazy when you run.

It sucked because the people who were only running were far enough ahead we couldn’t see them and the walkers were far enough behind we didn’t want to wait for them to find out where to go so we just continued on south just like we did at the start of the race. We started to get worried that we missed a turn or something and I looked over and saw runners about a block away. So we cut across the street to figure out where in the hell we were. Realized we were about a third of a mile from the finish so we looped back with some other runners. Knowing full well that if we finished with this crowd, our time would be a sub-30 (more like a sub-25), we did the same quarter mile loop three times, cutting across the group of runners like a couple of fools. We saw some friends pass us who gave us looks like “how in the HELL did you pass me”… we laughed and said we’d explain later, as we took another walking break.

We got so confused it was laughable. Eventually we started to goof off and take silly pictures. We knew we would be close to the 5k mark, depending on what the last leg of the race was so after the 3rd li’l loop we headed to the finish. As we rounded the corner for the final straightaway, we made sure we were running so everyone would think we had ran the whole time (duh, we’re so smart)… and came down to the finish with a flurry. I heard some friends cheer and I’m sure they couldn’t figure out how we finished in 40 min. After we got the timing chips off our feet my friend Rochelle came and hugged us and congratulated us on an awesome time. I couldn’t stop laughing and shoved my garmin in her face… I said, “look look at the distance!” “2.62 mi? what happened?” And so we had this fun story to share with everyone as we found them post race. It was a Make-your-own 5k… complete with a choose-your-adventure option.

yay! we did it!

Afterwards we had beer and caught up with some friends.

Then we headed over to Paulie’s on Greenfield with a few people for post-race libations… Em and I had the nachos and quesadillas… and a lot of beer.

Photo: Kay

Then, we went home and decided we had to fit in the rest of the 5k we missed earlier… so we ran on a full stomach of beer and nachos a quarter mile from home and back. We had to stop to walk so many times because we thought we were gonna puke… but we did it, even sprinting the last .1 like we were sprinting to the finish line. Then I really almost puked.

Good times, great people. Happy freaking new year.

Splits: 14:10, 16:47*, 14:49 (.62), 14:32 (.48)

*this is where all the race confusion was, as evidenced by the time

Oh and PS: This was a PR for me, even with the disaster of a race!

MSN just published a story about the 10 bizarre side effects of exercise.

“Researchers have been touting the healthy side effects of exercise for years. Regular workouts can help you lose weight, boost mood, and live longer. But your daily workout can also have some strange—and pretty wonderful—side effects. From exercise-induced ear popping to the, uh, pleasures of a core workout, experts explain what’s behind your body’s weirdest physical reactions.”

Here are the top 10:

1. Yawning
2. Farting
3. Runny Nose
4. Coregasm
5. Ear popping
6. hives
7. heartburn
8. cramps
9. headache
10. incontinence

How many of these bizarre side effects have you had? I’ve had five. Thank GOD #10 isn’t one of them.

John: “Do you feel the burn?”
Me: “Yes I feel the burn.”
John: “Do you really feel the burn or are you lying to me?”
Me: “Define burn.”
John: “When you can’t stand anymore.”
Me: “Ok yeah then I don’t feel that kind of burn.”
John: “Then I’m gonna pay you back for lying to me.”

halp.

me: It’s not like I need 4-doors. I don’t have kids to get out of the backseat.

dad: What if in three years you find the man of your dreams and he has a kid. Then what? You’ll want 4 doors.

me: If I find the man of my dreams, I’ll deal with the 2-doors.

Had another great Team Challenge mid-week group run tonight. For the first quarter mile, Jodi and I stuck with Rochelle, Karla and Kevin… but after 5 minutes, we dropped back (they were going between 10:30-12min pace and that was pushing it for me for extended periods of time).

Jodi and I alternated running a quarter mile and walking a quarter mile for the first mile. Our split was 15:20ish. Unfortunately, this is where things went down hill for me.

You see, today I had time to make another batch of homemade tomato sauce with goodies from my garden. I spent more than 2 hours making the amazing sauce (fresh tomatoes, red pepper, garlic, onion, basil, italian sausage… shall I go on?) and couldn’t resist having some for dinner before the group run.

Note to self: NEVER EVER EAT A BIG MEAL BEFORE A RUN, NO MATTER HOW HUNGRY YOU ARE.

During the first mile my stomach started gurgling and its contents sloshed about.

By the 1.25 mi mark I told Jodi to go on without me. I wasn’t gonna be able to keep running. I thought I was going to puke.

About mile 1.6 (just about a tenth of a mile from the Lake Park Bistro stairs), I had a different kind of tummy rumble. You know, the I-don’t-have-to-puke-I-have-to -oh-crap-get-to-a-bathroom tummy rumble. I started running and was honestly worried I would either puke or shit my pants. Or both.

I made it that last tenth of a mile. But then I had the stairs. Those were brutal.

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted a toilet, damnit.

I got to the top of the stairs and luckily made it to the bathroom.

Aren’t you glad I shared this story?

Before the race:

1. Pee. Trust me on this.
2. Drink lots of water all week long, especially the day before and morning of the race. This is why #1 is important.
3. Don’t drink four margaritas 18 hours pre-race, even if you tell yourself it’s okay because you’re getting top-shelf margaritas on the rocks with extra lime and salt on the rim. Margarita salt is not an acceptable substitute for an electrolyte sports drink.
4. Go to the race expo. Pick up your packet. Make some impulse purchases you will later regret because everyone else is buying that balance bracelet. Stare at your race bib. Smack yourself in the head for thinking you could actually do a half marathon.
5. Follow a training plan. There are so many plans out there – find one that works for you and your schedule. Mine included 3 days/week of walking and/or running, 1-2 cross training or strength training days and 1 active recovery/yoga/pilates/easy walk day.
6. Don’t be afraid to modify the plan. I suffered many setbacks due to knee problems and a sprained foot/ankle. I made adjustments (like biking or doing the elliptical instead of walking or running because they were low-impact). I had to cut one long “run” short because my foot hurt so bad.
7. Train with others. I joined Team Challenge, an endurance/half marathon training program that raises money for Crohn’s disease and ulcerative colitis research. You have a team of coaches (like Anne of FitMke) who make sure you cross that finish line at the race. We trained for 16 weeks, meeting every Sunday morning for the Napa to Sonoma Wine Country Half Marathon. Sure, I had to raise a bunch of money, but the support and encouragement from the Team Challenge staff along with the coaches and my teammates were invaluable. Plus, I traveled to California to do a race that took me through vineyards. As in, where they make wine. There was a free wine tasting for participants at the finish. ’nuff said.
   
8. Stock your medicine cabinet with ibuprofen. And ace bandages. And keep some ice packs or frozen peas in the freezer. You will thank me later.
9. Make an appointment with a massage therapist halfway through training. I recommend Stacy Snook if you’re in the Milwaukee or Madison areas. She’s fabulous and will help work out the tight muscles in your legs and lower back.
10. Test out your gear. Everything that you plan to wear/drink/eat on race day, you should be wearing/drinking/eating prior to race day. I found that one particular pair of capris was more comfortable than the others on long run/walks. I also found that I liked wearing a visor rather than a baseball hat and sunglasses because of the sweat that dripped down my face. I found that I preferred the Nathan Quick Draw Water Bottle to a water belt. It was a good fit for my inhaler, too. I also found that I preferred my Garmin on my left arm and my iPod shuffle clipped onto my sports bra, right between my breasts. I liked using my SPI Belt to hold my cell phone and I preferred Honey Stingers and Power Bar Chews to Gu.

During the race:

1. Start out slow. Let’s face it. Chances are you’re not going to win the race, so don’t bother burning all your energy the first couple of miles. Save your energy and wait for the pack to thin out a bit as everyone finds their comfortable pace.
2. Drink water, even if you don’t think you need it. Keep yourself hydrated so you don’t feel faint. I drank a sip from my bottle every half mile or so. I also drank at every water stop and took both water and HEED (sports drink) when the sports drink was offered. You may not think you will need the sports drink, but suck it down anyways. The electrolytes will save you later on.
3. Don’t fall behind on your nutrition. I found I was able to keep my energy at a good level by eating one chew every mile (and two a mile for the last 4 miles). During training, you should have figured out what works for you. I found that on race day itself, this ratio worked wonders. Neither of the chews I had were particularly high in sodium, so I didn’t drown myself or overdo it (in my opinion. And I am not a professional by any means. This is just what worked for me. Please don’t sue).
4. Soak it all in. If you get too focused on your pace or that pebble in your shoe, you’ll lose sight of the amazing thing you’re doing – you’re running or walking a half marathon. Seriously, enjoy the scenery, enjoy laughing at the weird form other runners use. Giggle when you see guys peeing in the bushes so they don’t have to wait for a port-a-potty.
5. Say thanks. Don’t be a jerk. Thank the volunteers handing you water at mile 3. Thank the sentry keeping cars from running you over. Smile and wave at the spectators cheering for you. Don’t be an ungrateful prick.
6. Pass on the left. As much fun as it is to bob and weave through runners, you are bound to piss some people off. Be courteous and pass on the left. You will freak people out if you try passing on the right. Also, if you’re running the race with a partner (or more), don’t hog the whole width of the course.
7. Don’t stop. I am one of those people who, once I start a long run/walk, I try not to stop for anything. I have never had to stop to use the bathroom (knock on wood). I didn’t stop to get the pebbles out of my shoe at mile 8. I knew that if I stopped, I would not keep going. But, be smart about it if you follow this philosophy. Please don’t be one of those people who craps their pants. If your shoes are untied, for goodness’ sake, stop and tie them. If you get a cramp, stop and stretch. But if you’re feeling good, don’t stop. Keep on truckin’.
8. Don’t be afraid to walk. This should fall under both before and during the race. Here’s the dealio. I’m overweight. This whole training for a half marathon is totally new to me. I’ve never run a mile in my life. So, I started training with the intent to run/walk the race… with most of the race falling in the walking category. All in all, I probably ran the equivalent of 3ish miles during the race, never for more than a half mile at a time. Your goal for your first race should be to just simply finish. I had a time goal of 4 hours, with a super-secret time goal of 3:30. I finished the race in 3:49. I walked most of the race. And no one judged me.
9. Save a little burst of energy for that last tenth of a mile. You’re pretty much a rockstar for getting to this point, but if you sprint that last leg, you are officially a badass.

After the race:

1. Wear your medal with pride. I didn’t take mine off for 3 days.
   
2. Have some chocolate milk. It does a body good.
3. Eat whatever the heck you want. Please note: this excuse is only valid the day of the race. Don’t follow the Amy Kant school of thought and drag this out for a week.
4. Visit the med tent (if needed). They’ll wrap you up like Sunday leftovers.
   
5. Smile. You did it. You’re officially an endurance athlete. No one can take that away from you.

Read my novel-length race report at Losing It Without Losing Me.