Three weeks after Portland, I found myself greeted with another race already. This time I had my trusty best friend of 18 years, Caitlin, riding shotgun for the weekend. Traffic out of Chicago on a Friday afternoon was predictable. What wasn't predictable were the Wisconsin drivers magnetized to the left lane driving right below the speed limit. Caitlin came to the fond conclusion that once she's done with grad school, she'll start a non-profit organization to educate Wisconsin drivers on proper left lane usage. And basic driving skills in general. I think if she brings a platter of cheese to the organization's meetings, she'll really be effective. Wisconsin drivers practically self-inflict pain and if it wasn't for the company Caitlin kept to my right, I would've gone mad and just gotten off at one of the 18 water parks we passed.
So after about 6.5 hours of road rage and 6 inches of a Subway sandwich, Caitlin and I arrived at Ms. Alissa Revak's place in Edina, MN nearing 9:30PM. We were welcomed with the expected excitement that Alissa always seems to never run short on. It's the type of excitement that is best exemplified by 17 year olds who call into the radio and win tickets to see Joe Jonas (He's coming to the House of Blues soon, in case anyone's wondering. No, I'm not going and if you were actually wondering that, we can't be friends.) As she gave us a quick tour of her apartment, as it was my first time visiting Alissa up in Minnesota (I went to school with her and we met through our book slangin' days), we came to her bedroom where I found a hilarious poster she was in the midst of crafting for me. As an avid scrapbooker myself, I appreciated the glue-stick art including pictures of me at my previous races and a strange man running in a Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup costume. Why I haven't sported that look at a race yet is unbenounced to me. Caitlin's main squeeze, Brad (her boyfriend who lived about 45 min. outside of Minneapolis) came to collect his sugarlips and Alissa and I caught up on life as we got ready to hit the town. As we got ready, Alissa's roommate came home to also prepare for our evening out. She also brought her 14-year old dog, Snickers, who I still to this day think is blind. I love dogs and I feel most dogs sense that intense love and typically flock to me. Snickers, on the other hand, blatantly ignored my puppy hollers and kept nearly running into the walls instead. Snickers also had that white cotton glaze over his/her (let's pretend it's gender neutral) eyes which either meant it was drunk, wearing creepy contact lenses, or blind. Thus, my conclusion that Snickers is the four legged version of Stevie Wonder remains true.
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| My lovely hostess and her artwork for me :) |
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| My momma is the best. |
Binge drinking is never on my agenda the weekend of a race so some classic H20 was my drink of choice at the bar. One of Alissa's friends was moving to Boston for grad school so for them it was a "going away gathering" and for me it was a "meet & greet, hi & bye" ordeal. Lucky for me, her friends and roommates were super cool and welcoming to my sober self. Exhausted, we called it a night and Alissa and I found ourselves sleeping in later than I ever imagined. You see, my place in the city involves a symphony of car horns and crazy blues beats that jam from Kingston Mines across the street, combined with blinding sunlight that beams into my 4 bay windows. This is also topped with the rambles of questionable human beings that hang out at the pay phone and Cash Station across the street. Yes, I think we found the only corner with a pay phone/Cash Station combo to still be in existence post 1998. Alas, sleeping in doesn't really happen in my bedroom in Chicago. Alissa, on the other hand, lives in a peaceful apartment complex filled with some elderly and random grocery shopping carts in the hallways. With one window, her bedroom resembles a dark cave, probably very similar to the home of Big Foot that allows slumber to overcome the sleep-deprived.
Eventually ready to take on the day early Saturday afternoon, Alissa and I headed to downtown Minneapolis to pick up my race packet and explore my Minneapolis virginity. Visiting naturally expressive and excited people like Alissa is great because they instantly become a tour guide as you stroll past just about any building. And, even if it's not the coolest building, you think it is because of their voice inflection while describing it. Alissa's wide eyes and cheery tone aside, Minneapolis is a really cool city. The city skyline seemed to be composed of skyscrapers with short man's syndrome: a seemingly low cityscape. But to the right, St. Paul, towered with the tall buildings I was used to see in a big city. One of the coolest facts my little tour guide shared with me definitely had to be the 8 miles of skyways Minneapolis had. You could essentially walk through the whole downtown area without ever having to take a foot outside. Very logical for a place opposite of paradise come November. Come on Chicago Mayor Emanuel, make a name for yourself and implement this shit in the windy city.
Minneapolis appears to be a fairly young city and the vibe coming from the bars and restaurants we passed was pretty hoppin'. We retrieved my race packet from the Millenium Hotel. It was a quick stop as it wasn't a large, typical race expo and we wanted to peace out after being asked 20 questions by the doorman. From there, we passed the Target Corporate building, home to beautiful people according to Alissa; we passed the Mary Tyler Moore statue which was a fun reminder of my avid Nick@Nite following from my childhood. We later passed the apartment building that was used as Mary Tyler Moore's home in the show. Now it's apparently home to crackwhores in da hood. Good thing ya got outta there, Mary. We spent the rest of the day casually perusing through the city; it was refreshing to be able to stand on a street corner while trying to figure out which direction we wanted to head without being trampled over or sneered at-I bet the prostitutes love having the extra room on their corners. We kept ourselves busy until dinner time.
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| Minneapolis, obvi. |
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| Just a section of the 8 miles of skyways! |
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| Mary Tyler Moore statue |
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| RIP Regal |
Alissa, the little planner she is, made reservations for us and her roommates at Bar LaGrassa, fine pasta dining with the most unique dishes. Between her, her roommate Masha and myself, we managed to order 6 half portions and devour most of it. I don't know much Italian... okay, any Italian...so I really have no idea what the hell I ate, but in English it'd be what we deem as "absolutelyfuckingdelicious". One of my dishes involved lamb meatballs and the other had really spirally noodles that reminded me of T. Swift's blonde locks (Not that it tasted like hair, because it didn't). Post fine-dining, Alissa and I planned to head to Mall of America just so I could see it. I really didn't care if I did because I can imagine it's Woodfield on steroids and much like most malls: stores and food courts. I've also heard there's an amusement park plotted amidst the shops but seeing that when I was 7 I threw up on a tire swing signifying my horrible motion sickness, I knew I wouldn't be too "amused". And good thing I didn't care about it much because we didn't actually make it there. Alissa's beaut of a vehicle (a forest green 2000 Buick Regal) wouldn't start. Those fine four wheels weren't going anywhere. So a tow from her cousin and a ride from her roommate later, we were back at Alissa's apartment for bed.
For the couple of trips that I've stayed with friends, I always feel bad about hitting the sack at the bedtime of a 6 year old. It's always a Saturday night and I feel like I'm totally cockblocking my host from having a crazy Saturday night, which isn't what I'd classify as a proper "thank you for letting me stay with you". Lucky for me, Alissa was wiped from her busy week at work and was happy to crash at the early hour. I didn't sleep much though. Fearing that I'd be seduced by the darkness of her blackhole of a room again and sleep through my race, I slept on edge and awoke every hour. It's that feeling you get in college when you know you have an exam in your 8AM class. I hopped out of bed as 5:15AM alarmed. Halfway through my race morning routine and 15 minutes before we'd have to leave, Alissa was still hibernating like a polar bear. With a loud whisper and a quick time threat, she was up. Amazingly, we only left her apartment five minutes later than I originally wanted; this is amazing if you've ever seen Alissa get ready.
A quick trafficless drive later, we were at the start line. Alissa studied the course map and marked the miles at which she was going to attempt to see me while I frequented the port-a-potties per usual. Alissa was utterly disgusted by the long lineup of moveable johns, but as I always mention, these puppies are hot commodities before the race. As the other 2,000 runners neared the start line I made my way to the corral between the 1:40 and 1:50 flags. I set my iPod to my playlist and relaxed waiting for the gun. Meanwhile, Alissa played paparazzi. It was actually really sweet of her because she remembered how I had asked my mom to document EVERYTHING for my first full marathon (which of course Mary e even took pictures of nearby grass) so Alissa made sure she took lots of pics for me to remember my Minneapolis experience. Standing near me was a hippie-like girl wardrobed in purple: purple "buns" (underwear-like running bottoms, for those of you who didn't get the pure joy of wearing them on a high school cross country team), purple sports bra, purple shoelaces, purple heart-shaped earrings, purple socks and purple barettes held the two braids she had pinned to the top of her head, similar to if Princess Lea's head was to be flattened by a steamroller. I'm going to guess this girl also had purple underwear on, but that could be a really far off assumption. It's people like my nearby purple princess that makes me LOVE people-watching. For example, just the other week I was third-wheeling it with my roommate Sarah and her boyfriend through the streets of Lincoln Park and we were behind a girl who had the Chicago "El" system tattooed on her upper right shoulder. At first it looked cool, but then I pictured that girl trying to explain the sentimentality of public transportation permanently engraved in her skin to her children and I thought "what an oddball".
Back to the race: With the number of runners being much less than what I expected (but obviously 20x that in Portland for my last race), a fog horn cued the start rather than a gun. And we were off! The start line was tucked along an array of little bars and restaurants and below our feet lay an old brick road giving the area a bit of an Oliver Twist character. Beyond the first mile or so, it was onto normal paved streets. We even ran across the road bridge that collapsed a few years back so I made sure I scampered across that real fast in case the bridge thought I was a fatass and didn't want to hold me up. I eased into the first five miles, remaining a few strides behind the 1:45 pace group (running 8 minute miles consistently). At mile 3 I looked for Alissa who had met up with Caitlin and her boyfriend Brad at this point to cheer me on. No friends in sight, I continued the flat course that was one thin row of trees and a narrow running path to the right of the lake. I ran beneath a bridge tattooed with the gold and maroon University of Minnesota "M" which looked more like an upside down "W" if you ask me. Yes, I realize a W is practically an upside down M but it's not the same and the Minnesota M has some pretty wide "legs" so it looks like a squatting "M". Yeah, that's it.
Anywhooooo, beyond mile 5 I decided to pick up my pace ever so slightly. The next three miles involved me running 7:50-7:55 paces. When mile 8 came (still no signs of friends), I realized I felt awesome and made up my mind it was time for a new PR. I always know that I'll be tired at the end of my race regardless if I run slow or if I run fast and I had it in me to just book it from here on out. The weather was perfect; the course was flat and fast with a surprise of a large downhill that never returned upward; I had run first with my head and then with my heart and it was time to go. Mind made up and smiling the entire way, I chased every person in sight.
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| We make 6AM look good. |
The last two miles wrapped around Lake Nokomis. This portion became slightly daunting because you ran a mile and then pivoted around a cone and headed back the same direction you came from. Intelligently, the race had one of the timers that clocked your chip at the cone so runners couldn't "cheat" the course. My legs had begun to grow weary around mile 10.5 but I just kept my mind positive, set on running my best time. The greatest feeling is crossing the finish line with your legs like jello knowing you gave it every last ounce. I can honestly say I did that this race because my last two miles, as my legs felt as mushy as mashed potatoes, were my fastest, clocking about 7:10 paces. I had negative split my race (meaning my second half was faster than my first half), which is every runner's goal. 100 yards from the finish line, I saw Alissa, Caitlin and Brad screaming and waving the homemade poster for the first time my whole race. I gave a disgusting open-mouthed grin and threw my hands in the air as I passed them anticipating my personal best time.
I was the happiest girl on the face of the earth at 8:43AM Central Standard Time on Sunday, August 21st crossing the finish line with my FASTEST TIME EVER! I ran a 1:40:32, which is a 7:40 per mile pace having dropped over 4 minutes from my previous fastest time of 1:44:50. Not only did this race mark my fastest but it was the first time in these past 7 months that I had improved since my very first race. The line up of free food was fairly unorganized but that was the last thing on my mind. With my head stuck in cloud 9, I was so out of it I thought the Michelob Ultra packet handed to me at the line was a packet of beer. It turned out to be a damp towel, which obviously makes a lot more sense than beer in a plastic pouch. Within minutes I spotted my 3 supporters and practically skipped to them with a smile smeared across my face. I still could not believe that I ran
that fast. I know I'm acting like I just qualified for the Olympics and I know some people can run that in their sleep, but I can't and I
did. Alissa, Caitlin and Brad were equally as excited for me and joined me in the beer tent as I wiggled my bottom like a dog wagging its tail and called Mary E to tell her the exciting news.
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| Happiest girl in the world |
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| Finish line |
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| HOLY SHIT I JUST RAN MY BEST TIME |
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| Race #7 complete: 1:40:32 |
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| Thanks for cheering me on :) |
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| Celebrating with a 9AM beer |
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| But I don't wannnaaaa leaveeee you |
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| Time to head home |
We hung out in the post-race area for a little bit before we made our way back to Alissa's where I would take great refreshment in a shower. From there the 4 of us went to restock on all the carbs I had just burned at a pancake house. For the first time in my life I experienced pumpkin pancakes. And it will most definitely not be my last. Imagine the taste of pumpkin pie without the funky texture, topped with warm maple syrup and a dollop (okay a stupid large helping of) whipped cream. Now picture eating that while being on ecstasy. Okay I don't actually know what that's like but I'm assuming people who take x feel as good as I did that day. Drugs aside, the pumpkin pancakes were the heatttt. During breakfast, Brad decided to ask me if I ever ran a race with the intention of winning it. I explained no for the simple sake that there are freaks of nature who can run half marathons in about 65 minutes (I clearly call them freaks out of pure envy). He seemingly ignored my response and told me next time I should just try to win it. I'm gonna guess he packed these crazy answers with him in his suitcase from Jamaica, his homeland.
After breakfast, it was time to bid adieu to my lovely hostess. Alissa spent a good amount of time listing the reasons why I should move to Minneapolis. It was a decent effort, but Chicago is north and cold enough for me my darling; if I move, I'm goosin' it south to San Diego. Caitlin offered to drive the entire way back as I played damsel in distress from my legs being too sore to drive. She didn't seem to mind since I had chauffeured her the entire way there, but she did share the same road rage towards Wisconsin drivers as I. They really do just suck. Caitlin also made it a point that my singing sucks, especially when I don't know the words. Okay, it does. Needless to say, it was a fun ride home and when we arrived, it felt
good to be home.
As I reflect on my race in Minneapolis, a surge of joy and satisfaction still rushes through me. While it's great, I always have to do a self-check and remind myself not to have really high high's and really low lows. I also need to remind myself that my success in that race does not determine the success or failure of my next 6 races. But, I can relish in the fact that at least know I'm capable of it. A large group of friends and I actually "relished" in it the following Friday with a drinking event we deemed "The Amazing Race" in honor of my PR. I can't say I did anything differently for Minneapolis, besides tapering my training a bit the week of. (However rather than that being intentional, I think it was more a direct effect of a weekend at my friend's lakehouse the week prior.)
Regardless of what happened 3 weeks ago, this weekend I'll be taking on my home stomping grounds in Chicago. Three days away, I'm super excited to run this bad boy on my training turf. My older sister Lauren will be running this as her first half marathon, so I'm equally as excited for her. My best friends will all be in attendance and guess who else? Bob and Mary E, of course. With such an awesome support system, I am going into this race feeling entirely too blessed; I'm feeling ready to take on another race; I'm feeling ready to break 1:40.
It's go time baby. 7 races in the bag, I'm more than half way done. Talk to you after #8. Time for you to DONATE:
http://donate.breastcancermarathon.com/2012Marathon/JennaDunkleRuns
