Myrtle Beach - Smelly running town

Whoa - Myrtle Beach is certainly a smelly town for runners. It was a zillion degrees, 5 zillion percent humidity, and not many running routes. I checked a couple of those "map your favorite run" websites, and it looked like everyone must be geechy tourists and just run up & down Ocean Blvd. OK - I'll go run up & down Ocean Blvd. 4.5 out, 4.5 back.

WOW. I can only surmise that the cool locals keep the real running routes to themselves, and don't post them on the running websites. That was the nastiest, smelliest run I've ever endured. All the dumpsters are lined up along the edge of the street, house after house, condo after condo, and when the temps are in the mid 90's, the stench is just indescribable.

I got smart, and on the way back, I slipped over a block off of the main drag and ran through the tony areas. Past the zillion dollar houses, past the gated communities, and through the shady streets. There were the people walking their dogs. There's the seniors on their golf carts. And NO dumpsters! (A lot less traffic, too)

After slogging out my 9 miles exactly, of course there was some new nose-hair-melting raw sewage smell outside of our condo. A fitting way to end a hot, stinky, the sweatiest I've EVER been in my life run.

Team Lime Green

Doesn't have a really jazzy sound to it. "Team Lime Green". "Team Carnation Pink" "Team Maize"

BUT

it's a great excuse to hit the NikeTown outlet in Myrtle Beach this weekend and pick up some new running clothes! Any reason to shop is a good reason, right? And when it's outlet pricing, it's like a double word score.

Running 9 miles by yourself in a strange town in the summer isn't particularly appealing, but it is what it is. Looks like the routes in Myrtle Beach appear to just be up & down Ocean Blvd. So 4.5 out, turn around, and 4.5 back it is. Hope there's a Starbucks or something worthwhile within a block of our condo for me to look forward to!

Random Thoughts

Another month of running, and more new experiences. It wasn't a high mileage month -- going on vacation and strep throat took care of that, but it doesn't really matter. Let's get to the good stuff!



I'm signed up for a training team! I get a group! I gots peeps! Every summer, well, last summer, the girls go off and support other people by coaching the Sportsbackers Pink Nation marathon training team. And leave me. It's so unfair! So with some gentle prodding/tazer gun, I signed up for the Patrick Henry Half Marathon training team put on by RRRC.org. This was on Friday at 2:30 pm when I clicked the "submit" button. They had started the week before, and I had no idea if I was going to be able to hook up with them for their Saturday a.m. run at that point. To make a long (and only interesting to me) story short, I did, and now I have a team!

So far, it's been good. I'm learning how to get around Ashland, and I was only last in the first week, when I didn't take my fuel belt. This means I'm signed up for two halves "in a row" -- Patrick Henry and Rock n Roll are two weekends in a row. I'll think about that tomorrow, for tomorrow is another day!

Slackerdom

Wow. Where have I been? Oh - yeah - having a LIFE. But I have been running, and that's a good thing.

Let's see -- what have my loyal reader(s) missed?

Dismal Swamp Stomp Race Report

What a FABULOUS race! If there was ever a half marathon race course designed for a PR, this is it. Imagine -- 6.55 miles straight out, do a u-turn around the designated u-turn sign, then 6.55 miles straight back. No curves, no turns, and no HILLS!

Mingling around before the start (no corrals, which was nice), I spotted a pacer with a 2:15 sign. HMMM. Pacer. That's a thought. I glance back, and there's a pacer with a 2:30 sign. Quickly do the mental math - Rock n Roll was a 2:37 - Disney was 2:49 - maybe I could hang with the 2:30 pacer as long as possible and see what happens?? So I pop over and introduce myself. This is Roy the pacer, soon to be my new BFF. Dee realizes that I'm not coming back, and eventually follows me over to my new crew.

Gun goes off, and we're off! Roy's plan - 11:05 pace and walk the water stops. Ummm, that's a little stomach twisting as I've been in my happy relaxed "I'm still recovering from knee surgery after 5 months" pace, but hey, let's just turn off the brain and run.

First two miles are NOT 11:05. They are 11:20 - 11:30. I nervously point this out to Roy more than once. He eventually tells the group that we'll "pick it up" after the first water stop. So, first water stop, I briefly lose Roy, but then he reappears and we pick it up, alright. To a 10:34. At the end of that mile, we're alone. Me and Roy. Roy and me. And there we'll be for a while.

So, now my personal pacer Roy & I start clicking off the miles, chatting and walking the water stops as planned. Yes, the elites came back along the road as we were at 3.76, which was depressing, but hey, I have a personal pacer! They don't. So take THAT, you silly fast people.

Roy knows EVERYONE apparently. He's naming all the elites as they come towards us, and he even knows a large percentage of the non-elites. "Hey Joe -- we'll be picking you up at the end". Ha ha ha. But I have a personal pacer.

As we come up to the 6.55 mile turnaround point ("remember to wave to the camera so there's a great picture of me and my personal pacer"), we pick up another runner. Karma. Yep. Karma. That's her name. No more of me and my personal pacer Roy, it's now a love triangle. There's another woman in our relationship.

We continue to clip along, the three of us now, and I'm still feeling great. I'm relaxed, I'm not even working hard. I could run like this all day (theoretically). We get to the 10 mile marker, and everyone's pacer Roy does one of his sideways jaunts to tease someone he knows, and I just keep going. I'm not slowing down while he talks, I'm rocking on.

Roy calls to me -- "where are you going?" I replied "you're talking - I'm running" and keep going. He realized that, like a baby bird, it was time for me to leave the nest. "If you feel good - keep going!" With that gentle nudge, I spread my wings/feet and flew/ran. (Sorry - should have warned you about the bad analogy)

I crank out a 10:53 for the next mile, then drop back to 11:04 as I'm not feeling particularly great. I'm entertained by the woman who is having to yank down her shorts literally every 5 steps ("give up - let em ride up at this point - but didn't you try running in them at least once before wearing them in a half marathon??"), but am starting to hit my puke threshold. So I start dwelling on that. "What if I have to puke? I shouldn't have taken that last cup of Gatorade/ impersonating as water. I should have brought my own hydration. This sucks. I don't want to puke in the bushes." I actually had to walk for a few steps to bring the stomach back down where it belonged.

Aha! Mile 12 marker. One (point 1) mile left! I can do ANYTHING for 1 mile! So I swallow hard and chug on. I'll beat riding-up-shorts lady. I'll beat the lady in the bright yellow shirt. There's DEE! WOOO! Seeing my cheering squad and hearing her shouting and encouraging me gets me going for that final sprint to the finish line. She's screaming that I'm gonna beat 2:30 - that it's going to be a 2:26. Well, almost. 2:27:03 chip time! OH MY GOSH! That's a PR by 10 minutes! And there wasn't even a bear chasing me!

Roy the (Personal) Pacer, I love you!

So buoyed by that, I enter what I have titled The Summer of Speed. I'm going to kick butt on all my speed work, and really push on my tempo runs. I'm faster than I think I am, and I've realized that I've been in the easy run tempo pace zone, using my knee as a rather flimsy excuse. There's nothing wrong with it (now), and it's time to get going.

Speed. I am speed.